#i think i’ve blocked most of the active ones so i should be good but

[mars-ipan]

every time one of my posts shitting on terfs gets notes outta nowhere my fight or flight is triggered

[byoldervine]

Why You Should ‘Make Yourself’ Write (And How To Do It)

Most people who write for a hobby - especially the neurodivergent crowd - will write whenever they’re inspired, and many will be able to get an insane amount of writing done in one go, but then there’s a good while of writer’s block and low motivation/inspiration in between those bursts of creativity. You can see forcing yourself to write as something irrelevant to you; it’s just a hobby, so why burn yourself out forcing yourself to do it until it’s no longer fun?

The reason people say this, even for hobbyists, is so that you have some level of consistent progress; relying on random spikes in creativity or convenient hyperfocus isn’t a sustainable plan when it can either leave you burnt out after or leave you at a creative dead end for weeks or months between actual writing sessions

If you write consistently, you make progress consistently, so it’s good practice to make a habit out of using writing goals to keep you on track. Maybe you work best writing X amount of words, or maybe you prefer to write for X amount of time. Maybe you want to meet this goal every day, or maybe every few days, or maybe every week, or so on. I’m personally on 1000 words per week, and despite my autistic brain that thought I’d never be able to set and keep a consistent goal, I’ve been able to stick to it for nearly six months now. I also know people who are on 10 minutes per day, 100 words per week, 500 words every three days, 5000 words per month, etc

For me, being able to keep track of this not only means I get to see consistent progress being made, but it’s actually been really encouraging to see that word count go up so often and I’ve found that it motivates me to keep up with it. I’ve really enjoyed getting to work on this and having a minimum amount of progress per week really helps me feel like this is something real and something that’s slowly but surely going to be complete soon enough

Give it a try; say to yourself “if I want to achieve this goal, how long do I reasonably need to give myself to do it?” and have a go. After a few cycles it starts to register in your brain that, hey, you’re actually getting something done and being productive and watching that word count going up every day/week/etc! And don’t be afraid to change up your goal and your deadline if you think you’re not being challenged enough or if you’re starting to get burnt out on it - I’d consider it burning out when it’s consistently feeling less like a fun activity and more like a chore you have to do. It should still be fun!

[tepkunset]

Representation vs. Appropriation

When I made a tumblr blog post pointing out that the character creator in Baldur’s Gate 3 included culturally appropriative face tattoos, lot of people decided to bend over backwards to defend this. Excuses I have found while giving my blocking finger a routine work-out thus far have ranged from “Larian Studios is European so they don’t know any better”, to a classic “it’s just a fantasy game, stop being so oversensitive”. But by far the most common poor reaction was, “what if it’s representation?”

Now, two Māori people were quick to jump into this post and say themselves, clear as day, that this is not representation, it is appropriation. That should be enough right there—settlers do not get to decide what is and isn’t representation for us Indigenous folks. But white people not listening to Indigenous voices is nothing new. I’ve been forced to learn that if you want to be taken seriously by settlers, your best chance is to coddle and appease their poor little delicate feelings. So, let’s pretend for a second that these “what if it’s representation?” questions are actually asked in good, albeit ignorant faith, and not just a pathetic gut-reaction to avoid having to critically think about a beloved game. (Which, by the way, I still overall adore myself, mind you.) Let’s pretend they actually want an answer, and give it to them.

It’s very easy to list the examples of positive Indigenous representation I’ve personally experienced in video games, not made by Indigenous folks ourselves, because there’s only one game that comes to mind: Assassin’s Creed 3. The protagonist of AC3 is Ratonhnhaké:ton of the Kanienʼkehá꞉ka people. Ubisoft is a terrible company for other reasons, but they did one thing right in the development of this game: They hired a cultural consultant, Thomas Deer. Deer was able to guide them through avoiding offensiveness and stereotypes, and include proper cultural touchstones that Indigenous players, especially Mohawk players, would want to see. For example, Ubisoft originally wanted to include sacred ceremonial masks in the game, but Deer told them that depictions of these masks would be taboo. He also helped them choose what clothing and jewellery was authentic to the Nation. This, among much more, helped create a truly representative experience. What makes it representation is that it features an Indigenous character in a positive way, without crossing lines into what should not be touched by outsiders. But had Ubisoft decided to ignore Deer’s consultation and go ahead with using those sacred masks… that would have been cultural appropriation.

Cultural appropriation is taking a closed cultural practice and using it yourself, despite not belonging to the culture it comes from. The key word there is closed, as in, something not for outsiders to touch. Eating frybread is not cultural appropriation, because it’s something freely shared by Natives to others. But wearing a fake headdress to your local musical festival is cultural appropriation, because headdresses are sacred regalia not freely shared by Natives to others. It really is that simple: just listen to boundaries set by the People.

“But my fake headdress is just clothing.” “But a fake kakiniit is just ink.” “But my fake totem pole is just decoration.” Except not, and the very fact that you have no respect for the history and meaning behind these things is the perfect example as to why they are not for you. But being told something isn’t for them has always been a hard a pill for settlers to swallow.

The phrase “nothing about us without us” is often used when advocating for rights and respect of minorities. It was first brought into English vocabulary by South Africa’s disability activism in the 1990’s, and has since been adapted across the world as a slogan to mean uplifting voices of the people you claim to want to help, instead of speaking over them. I personally first heard it through EDIRA work (Equity, Diversity, Inclusion, Reconciliation and Accessibility) at my job, and I feel like it can be applied in many different ways, this being one of them. The best representation comes from listening to the people you want to represent. Had Larian done that, they would have known that imitating those tattoos was off limits. But since they didn’t, they took what wasn’t theirs to take. And that’s appropriation.

[spacelazarwolf]

I feel like I’ve had to unfollow all the leftist blogs that aren’t Jewish in order to avoid being drowned in Israel bad = hamas good takes. Maybe just taking an internet break in general. This sucks. My family is hiding in bomb shelters but apparently they deserve it for being Israeli civilians.

rules of engagement: israel is still an off limits topic for this blog. i am allowing good faith asks about it for the next day or so, but me posting things or responding to asks is not an invitation to interrogate me or blame me for the government of a country i don’t have citizenship in. i should be able to process my feelings on my own blog without people using that as an excuse for antisemitism. if you immediately jump in to call me a zionist or screenshot my posts as “proof” i’m a zionist despite me making numerous posts saying i’m not, it’s an immediate block. get a hobby.

yeah it’s going to be a rerun of 2021. i’ve already seen much of the same rhetoric, the same people who never post about i/p suddenly flooding their blog with misinformation and reactionary bullshit, the same holocaust and nazi comparisons, the same palestinian activists having to take time out of their activism to teach western gentiles the basics of not being antisemitic in their advocacy for palestinians, the same complete and utter disregard for jewish life and history. i just saw someone make the argument that because military service is compulsory for all israelis that “no israeli is innocent” and therefore any israeli deaths are justified. from someone i used to respect.

but i think one of the things that always concerns me the most about the way gentiles talk about i/p is the way they talk about indigenaity. inevitably, when the topic of jewish indigenaity comes up, or someone does the stupid “go back to poland” thing, people always excuse it because “you haven’t lived there for 2000 years, it’s not yours anymore” (not true, there’s been a continuous jewish presence there for thousands of years) and it honestly blows my mind to see leftists and progressives talk like that because they don’t seem to understand the ramifications of arguments like that. because putting a timeline on indigenaity, and also asserting that only one group can be indigenous to a place, is so wildly dangerous. but all sense of logic and decency seem to go out the window when western gentiles see the word “israel” so i’m not surprised.

[anitalianfrie]

exctract from the "Passa dal BSMT" podcast episode with Marco Bezzecchi

minutes 9.17-12.44 on Spotify

minutes 8.47-12.14 on Youtube

I: what do you think in that moment, before the race? 

Bez: well, that’s a hard moment, maybe the moment when I personally suffer a bit more, obviously suffer so to speak, it’s when I’m a bit more tense. I try to visualize a bit the race, try to think back about all the work we’ve done during the weekend, think about the details for the start we studied together before starting the race, and I try to remain calm, to take big breaths, to not let the agitation take over. Obviously it’s not easy because around you there are six billion people, cameras, people who maybe pose next to you to take a picture, this kind of things 

I: I mean, I’ve seen selfies with you behind obviously serious, motionless, like a statue from Madame Tussauds 

Bez: yes, I look at the clock, because we have a big clock under the lights, maybe i have my specific times when i know i have to do certain things but I try as I said to remain cold and to think mainly about the start, because it’s a very important part and it’s difficult to make big plans for after it. But i try to stay there, to remain calm, maybe I whisper a bit to the bike 

I: you talk to her 

Bez: I talk to her, and- 

I: what do you tell your bike? 

Bez: I have a great relationship with the bike, I am very- I mean, I am convinced she can hear me. I try to speak to her, to make her calm too, and to encourage her to do a good job with me 

I: and you call her by name 

Bez: yes because I gave her a name- well I’ve always done it, but since I’ve been in motogp and i have two bikes – because I've always made the connection as if the bike was a bit like my girlfriend and, diobo’, you can’t have two girlfriends theoretically 

I: yes it’s a bit of a mess 

Bez: so i tried to give her a name composed by two names. I chose Marianna, since I've been in the motogp team, and one is Maria and the other is Anna 

I: you united those two things 

Bez: I've united those two things 

I: and what do you tell her, do you pet her, do you tell her to stay calm? 

Bez: yes i always try to keep my hands in the same places, I always do the same things, and... because they help me to remain calm and I know that if I do them – this is a big trip, I’m telling you, it’s a big mental trip I have – but if I do everything well and in the same way I always do, if maybe i make an error or if something doesn’t go as it should I know it hasn’t been one of those things  

I: ah, so you remove the blame, let’s say 

Bez: I remove the blame, yes 

I: so you know it wasn’t that 

Bez: and also it helps me to concentrate, to find the concentration for the race and for the start which is as I said the most difficult thing 

I: but if you had to describe the start, technically, what do you do? 

Bez: technically? Well, we arrive from the warm-up lap which is to warm the tyres, the brakes, and... I engage the front holeshot, that you engage braking, lowering the front suspension to a certain point, it blocks them there, so the bike is a bit lower in the front. I stop in my place on the grid, I lower the back, because there’s also a holeshot in the back, I activate the starting procedure because we have a control that limits the engine speed because otherwise the engine might break, I do a couple of my usual rituals, I kiss the bike, and after that there’s the lights and I go. 

[ur-loser-pet]

My intro!!!!!!!

hewo!!! im ur loser gf who asks way too many stupid questions:3

(i looked up online where a place like this is and tumblr showed up! im new to it but i did my research and i do hope i can make a new home here:) i heard thats lots of young girls go here to get attention so im sorry if im not welcome!

also imSOO sorry my into is so long im new to this! i tried to make it pretty though!

‼️this account is SH mostly with very little actual kink involved. i do this because i deserve it, because i need to, not coz i wanna‼️

me - 🌸

this account - 🌺

rules - 🌹

Me!

🌸 name: worthless excuses like me don’t get names:(

🌸 age: biologically 18 but i haven’t been keeping track and i’m stupider than a 9 year old >~<

🌸 location: im from the west but i belong in my room where no one can see me!

🌸 pronouns/gender: im female but im not good enough to be an actual woman, stupid things like me don’t have genders, so it/it’s pronouns are fitting and the best for me!:)

🌸 my sexuality: i don’t deserve to be with anyone but im open to anyone of any gender!

🌸 my physical description:

- blondish brown hair

- blue eyes (not the pretty kind, the dead kind)

- white and extremely pale coz i never go outside

- a bit chubby (130 pounds last time i checked) but im on a diet and doing my best to lose weight (tho im still and always will be gross)

- im also 5’5

- i have big boobs but i hate them

- idk how big my ass is but nothing special

- my thighs are pretty thick but not in a good way

🌸 my mental description

- im really stupid and rightfully hate myself for it

- im psychotic, i have anger issues, and borderline personality disorder

- im super obsessive and the more i like someone the more i let them do whatever they want to me

- but also it can be difficult to earn my trust (think of me like a bunny, weak, fragile, and frightened, only im not cute)

- i have an ed and i sh but i don’t like starving anymore because im incredibly malnourished, i also don’t have a way to cut :(

- i have no friends (wonder why lmao) but when i was younger older men online would always be so kind to me! so now i kinda depend on them:P

- i hate me and everyone else (you) should also!

This Account!

🌺 this accounts purpose: this blog is self harm first and lust second! most stuff doesn’t turn me on and i just use it as a way to hurt myself (by either making me uncomfortable or it hurting my feelings, etc)

🌺 purple text: self harm, vents, or anything along that nature that doesn’t involve my lust:)

🌺 pink text: me horny posting, meaning it’s something that actually does turn me on!

🌺all activity is welcome: dms, asks, anons are and always will be open to anything! go off and do whatever you want! just don’t break the rules hehe! but unsolicited dick pics and stuff like that are okay!

🌺 my interests on this account: im open to all kinks! this is just because while i have personal kinks, what i want doesn’t matter and my pain is good! so i have no sexual limits besides maybe a serious form of pain that hurts *other people* that isn’t me, like a misogyny kink for example, im not okay with, only because im not the only one hurt by misogyny! i don’t want anyone else to hurt:( only me, only i deserve to hurt.

🌺 my activity: im active the most after 6 pm, i gotta try n act like im sane, normal, human, and like a girl or else i’ll be found out! (well i rarely go out or talk to ppl but just in case.. im like batman teehee) and i log off at 10 pm (est)

🌺 when i post: my posts are queued! n post every 30 minutes or so!:3

Rules!

🌹 Ima have to put on a serious face for this but i feel i need to now because im generally bad at boundaries. absolutely NO rule breaking, under any circumstances. i am the holder of this account and i will block you if i deem it absolutely necessary. i don’t have many rules but im EXTREMELY strict when it comes to them (and i’ve tried but there’s no way i’ll be getting rid of them) so best case scenario, rule breakers will only receive a block, thank you for those who abide by the rules i love you:)

🌹 no racism, transphobia, homophobia, xenophobia, or sexism of any kind on my blog, this is a safe place for everyone. an extremely important thing to note is that i hate myself, degrade myself, hurt myself, let others use me, etc *not* because i’m female, but because of who i am as a creature. my sex and gender have nothing to do with it. please respect that simple fact.

🌹i don’t send. i can imagine that if i were to get close to someone i’ll send them any pictures they want (it’s certainly a possibility but it’s hard to gain my trust). so regardless of your reasons, i will not be posting or sending any pictures of myself that include my face or nudity. my body belongs to my future lover (deity) anyway.

🌹i don’t give out other socials. this one is simple, if i want to i’ll give you my discord but it’s highly rare so please don’t ask:)

🌹NO KIDS NO EXCEPTIONS. anyone under 18 is not welcome here it isn’t good for you, it isn’t even good for me.

🌹if you get triggered by any dark topics (drugs, rape, pedophilia, grooming, ed’s, sh, or anything really) please block me, the idea of hurting someone because of this account hurts me genuinely:(

🌹i will likely add more rules in the future but i’ll make sure to blog about it!

🌹 sorry for all the strictness n stuff i don’t like being firm or anything like that but i believe it’s necessary unless i get so overwhelmed and end up deleting my account within days:(

i’ll likely revise my intro in the future!:) please give me tips on how to make it or me better if you have any!<3

[lacewise]

Hey. I’m still seeing near daily hate speech on my timeline, especially to Jewish and Israeli people (minding their own business!!!). Stop it. Get over yourselves. People other than you also have a right to live.

Hate speech, bigotry, and threats are never acceptable behaviour. There should especially never be a time when intersectionally marginalized people don’t feel safe in communities meant for them on the basis of one of their other identities. I thought we went over this. That includes Jewish people. That includes, explicitly, every group that you think “deserves” it, because discrimination against them is “for a reason” (the only reason is discrimination). If it doesn’t, you have biases you need to unpack and grapple with… yourself. A good start is a lot of listening to Jewish people who explain how it’s discriminatory (which they shouldn’t have to do). No arguing. Just listening.

I’ve seen this about Black people, I’ve seen this about Romani people, I’ve seen this about Muslim people, I’ve seen this about Latine people, I’ve seen this about trans men, non-binary people, ace people, aro people, he/him lesbians—and I could go on. Right now, most often, I’m seeing it about Jewish and Israeli people (which are not interchangeable groups). It needs to stop. It needs to never have begun. You need to deal with this, now.

Unfortunately, I think I need to include some examples of antisemitism: sending Jewish people unfounded conspiracy theories and allegations is harassment. That includes using tags meant for in-Jewish community use.

Spreading the unfounded conspiracy theories because they “sound like” what you think about Jewish people is antisemitic discrimination.

Making Jewish people “prove” to you they have the “right opinions” before you’ll let them into spaces they have a right to access is antisemitic discrimination. Which you’d think a group of people who just learned collective punishment is bad would know.

Saying things like, (and I really hate quoting discriminatory language, so I won’t forgive anyone who made this necessary) “But so-and-so is Jewish” or “Did you know so-and-so is… Jewish…?” is monstrous. It’s antisemitic discrimination, and it’s pretty actively trying to cause harassment campaigns (or worse) against specific Jewish individuals. If you see that, you need to report and block whoever is doing it. I really don’t care what the current euphemism they’re using for Jewish people is, euphemisms have a history in discriminatory practices going back hundreds of years.

Trying to dox Israeli people, trying to mass report them off the internet, telling them to “Go back to their country” (really?), are all active and organized harassment campaigns I have witnessed. Which, after October 7th, strikes me as both violent threats and a support for terrorist attacks.

Some of you were platforming people who are clearly calling for progroms for months and then demanding to know why any Jewish person deserves to live in Israel.

This cannot keep happening. This cannot happen.

Don’t harass Jewish people. Don’t harass Israeli people, especially using antisemitic conspiracy theories. Not every Israeli person is Jewish, and every Israeli person cannot be constantly and individually held responsible for the failures and violence of the Israeli government. If people are committing crimes, you need to focus on the individuals and groups directly and provably responsible, and the government itself. And you still shouldn’t engage in hate speech or harassment campaigns. I shouldn’t have to debunk multiple conspiracy theories at once to say, “Don’t harass Israeli citizens.” You just… shouldn’t be doing it.

Don’t spread hate speech. Don’t engage in hate speech. Don’t engage in harassment campaigns. Don’t justify or defend other people doing it.

[wyattjohnston]

breaking all my rules - adam lowry

summary: jasmine's first night in winnipeg becomes one she cannot get out of her mind.

word count: 3.4k

warning: smut, do not read if you are under 18.

note: hello @cellythefloshie! this is your fic for the winter fic exchange 2k24. i very much hope you enjoy it, even if the smut isn't as filthy as you deserve <3 thank you to @offside-the-lines for pestering me when i needed it and for being my editor, and to @matthewtkachuk as always for being my sounding board.

The drink in front of Jasmine was half empty, though it would soon be finished, and she watched the screen behind the bar where the Bucks were playing the Trail Blazers even though she had to dodge the bartender’s head occasionally when it blocked the only screen she was interested in.

There was no shortage of people in the bar. Most were watching any of the seemingly million screens airing hockey, and all were intently and enthusiastically doing so. Jasmine assumed that the Jets were playing but wouldn’t put any money on that.

Jasmine lifted her drink to her mouth, the sweet taste of her strawberry daiquiri coating her tongue and sliding down her throat effortlessly. Before she was able to put it back onto the bar, almost entirely empty, a new drink was placed down in front of her.

“From Adam,” the bartender said, pointing to the table of rowdy men who weren’t far behind her.

Jasmine looked over her shoulder to see one of the men raising his hand barely off the table. Not really a wave, but enough to let her know that he was the one who had bought her the drink. She nodded at him, letting a smile transform her face. His own smile followed suit.

“He plays hockey,” the bartender revealed, as though it was the hottest piece of gossip in Winnipeg. “You should cash in on that.”

She turned back to the bartender, a wry smile forming on her face as she said, “That sounds like a fucking good reason to stay away if ever I’ve heard one.”

She was left alone to drink her new cocktail and watch her basketball game, while intermittently glancing over her shoulder back at Adam. With every look back, he seemed bigger than the last, he was noticeably the tallest out of everyone he was with, and Jasmine couldn’t help but drink him in from head to toe.

He noticed.

She didn’t know if it had always been his intention to walk over to her at that moment, but he was moving toward her regardless. Jasmine turned back to the bar but kept the stool in just the right position to know that his presence wouldn’t be unwelcome. She only knew he had reached her when she felt a heavy hand on the back of the stool, turning her towards him.

He stepped into her personal space with ease, one of his legs pressing in between hers ever so slightly. It took all her willpower to not react, to not lean forward as she so suddenly and so desperately wanted to.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his hand brushing against hers on the bar.

Jasmine smiled up at him, watching as his eyes darted back and forth between her mouth and her cleavage.

“Tomorrow morning,” Jasmine asked, “are you going to tell me that you’ll call me?”

Adam nodded easily, quickly, without any thought. “Yeah, of course.”

Her eye roll was involuntary. “Are you really going to call me?”

He laughed unabashedly at being caught out, “Probably not, no.”

“My name’s Minnie.”

“That’s not your real name.”

“It’s close enough.”

There was a silence, Adam’s hand still brushing against hers. His smile was infectious now that she was no longer actively fighting it.

“I’m Adam,” he said, lifting his hand and taking a step back, away from her, “but you knew that already.”

“I was told.”

He took her hand, guiding her off the barstool. He was already leading her out of the bar when he asked, “Your place?”

“It’s a hotel room.”

“We can go to mine then. I’m not going to a hotel room in a city where everyone knows who I am.”

Jasmine couldn’t contain her snort, “Everyone in the city? A bit arrogant, don’t you think?”

Adam was smiling and shrugging silently. It was as easy as anything to follow him out of the bar and into a cab, not worrying about the light snow that had started to fall. The cab driver instantly recognised Adam, starting a conversation about hockey that Jasmine could barely follow. Adam was sending her looks throughout the entire drive—apologetic with a lingering arrogance that Jasmine was loath to admit she found attractive.

It was worth it for one night.

The exterior of the house they pulled up to was nothing as extravagant as she’d been expecting for a professional athlete. It was undoubtedly a nice house—much nicer than anything Jasmine ever hoped to be able to afford—just less than what she’d imagined. Not that she’d been imagining much more than what it would feel like to have his hands all over her.

“Do you want anything to drink, or…?” Adam asked when they were standing inside his front door and, rather awkwardly, removing their coats.

“Why waste time?”

Reaching up to grab him by the collar of his shirt was the easiest decision Jasmine had made in a while. He was so tall, and, while it had been part of everything she’d had until that moment t, it was certainly more noticeable when he was leaning over her to press his mouth against hers.

She had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck to draw him closer, to give herself leverage. The shock of his hands on her thighs wrapping her legs around his waist was enough to elicit a squeal and a giggle.

He smirked against her mouth.

When he pressed her up against the wall behind her, Jasmine used it as leverage to push their bodies together while she chased his mouth and the taste of whiskey within it. His hair was the perfect length to play with, the perfect length to wrap her fingers in and tug; his own little gasp gave him away.

They were moving before Jasmine even realised, though it wasn’t for long, as Adam set her down on the staircase. Her head tilted, a silent question about what she was supposed to do next, when his hands—his very big hands—were on her waist again to spin her around. There was no missing the glint in his eyes.

The very second her back was to him, there was a playful tap on her ass that had her running up the stairs with an unexpected giggle. She heard something hit the floor and looked quickly over her shoulder to see that Adam’s sweater was gone so she pulled hers off with no thought given to making it look sexy and threw it somewhere near the top of the stairs. She had plans she did not want to delay.

His bedroom was close, his body hot behind hers as he guided her to it with his lips pressed to her neck and his hands pulling at her shirt to pull it from her jeans. When his fingertips met the skin of her stomach, the electricity that ran through her was enough for her to know the night was going to be something she would remember for a while.

Jasmine’s eyes fluttered shut as Adam pulled her shirt over her head and wasted no time by removing her bra. His mouth moved up her spine, hitting spots she had never known could feel so good with such precision and eagerness that she reached behind her, clawing at his own shirt desperate for the skin-on-skin that would come with it.

Adam got the message. He kissed the nape of her neck one last time and turned her around. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, desperation filling every part of her body and only getting stronger when he effortlessly lifted her and dropped her onto the bed.

His shirt quickly disappeared, leaving Jasmine even more speechless than she already was as she scanned every inch of newly bare skin for the first time. She reached out, fingers brushing gently over his skin until she reached his belt.

Looking at Adam’s face was too much, the want in his eyes was more than she could handle, so she focused on unbuckling his belt and helping him remove his pants. The memory of his muscles clenching under her lips as she kissed the skin just about the buckle would be burnt into her brain forever, There was no time to waste, it seemed, because the second Adam’s pants were off he was pulling hers down her legs in one swift motion before he was prowling on the bed leaning over her.

The next time their mouths met, Jasmine arched off the mattress, the skin-on-skin everything she had been hoping for. It made her even more aware of him surrounding her, his aura taking up the entire room and encompassing even more of her headspace than just the feel of his mouth against hers. 

The kiss lasted nowhere near as long as she wanted, with Adam moving to start kissing down her chest, between her breasts, nipping at her skin as he went. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him as close as she could, just to relieve some of the pressure between her thighs that was only building more when he cupped her breast and his thumb brushed over her nipple so lightly she barely felt it, and yet she couldn’t feel anything else when he did it again.

He was possessed, leaving no part of her unkissed, no part of her untouched. She could see–feel—how hard he was, and she could imagine he could feel how wet she was with how close she was pulling him.

An involuntary whine left Jasmine’s mouth when Adam’s hand moved away from her breast, she instantly missed the electric shocks that ran through her every time he touched her nipple. She arched her back to chase the feeling, the sensation,, completely unable to form words, but forgot what she was aiming for when his fingers brushed the hair out of her face and his mouth drew closer to hers.

The gasp that left her was met with an appreciative grunt from Adam, as the kiss deepened and his hand moved, pushing her body back from where she’d arched up so that he could finally touch her where she so desperately wanted—needed—to be touched.

Jasmine woke first the next morning and had to forcibly extricate herself from Adam’s sleep-tight grip.

She stared into the bathroom and wondered how strange it would be to use his shower while he slept. She decided against it, if only to avoid the awkwardness of him waking and her still being there. She wanted to be gone before he had any opportunities to pretend he actually was going to call her, despite their conversation the night before. It was always easier to just leave before she had to talk.

Being careful not to rustle the bed, Jasmine inhaled deep into her stomach before she planted her feet on the floor and searched the room for her clothes. She definitely had some clothes littering his hallway—her coat and sweater were nowhere in sight—but she grabbed what she could, cradling them to her chest so that she could change in the hallway with less risk of waking him up.

The bedroom door creaked ever so slightly as she pulled it open just enough to slip through, and she held her breath when there was movement behind her. Adam didn’t rouse, though, and she relaxed enough to find the remainder of her clothes and get dressed standing in his living room.

She couldn’t help but take a look around while standing there, taking in the little things that showed he was rich—namely that nothing looked like it was falling apart. Nothing even looked second-hand. Her bank account was shrieking.

Jasmine stopped in the kitchen on her way to the front door, desperate for a glass of water. She pondered, longingly, what it must be like to cook in such a large space with appliances that looked like they’d rarely been used.

“D’ya want breakfast?”

An unholy shriek left her at the sudden interruption, and she spun around with a heaving chest and one hand still brushing over the stove. Adam hadn’t made a noise until he spoke. Unless she’d been so caught up in dreaming about her dream house that she hadn’t heard him. Both were equally as plausible.

One of his hands patted the kitchen counter loudly, and Jasmine’s attention was drawn to it, images of their night involuntarily filling her mind and making her catch her breath.

“No,” she said breathlessly. “I’m going. It was nice to—thank you for—Goodbye.”

“It was nice to. And you’re welcome. Goodbye, Minnie.”

Jasmine nodded, short and stiff, before she had to squeeze past the small space he’d left between himself and the counter. Her breathing was already laboured when his very large, very experienced hand caught her wrist.

“You should give me your number.”

Taking a moment to control herself, to remind herself that she didn’t give out her phone number to one-night stands for the express purpose of keeping them as one-night stands no matter how good said one night stand was. She gently pulled her hand out of his grip and to her side and was able to keep her resolve even if she didn’t truly want to.

Two things were true: Jasmine didn’t like repeat performances with guys she met in bars, and Jasmine could not stop thinking about Adam.

Even as she flew home to Baltimore to pack her life into a U-Haul, even as she drove 1,500 miles to Winnipeg, even as she started her new job, he was all she could think about.

It certainly didn’t help that ice hockey was slowly but surely taking over her life, as much as she had tried to prevent that from happening. She was coming to learn that the Winnipeg Jets were a religion in the city—a cult, even—and that meant seeing the face of their captain almost everywhere she looked.

As it turned out he didn’t just play hockey. If the Jets were a religion, he may well have been their God.

Their God who was, despite being everywhere, was also exactly nowhere.

“So, which one is it?” Elyse asked, her head tilted towards the group of Jets players huddled around a pool table.

“What do you mean?” Jasmine played coy; her eyes fixed squarely on Elyse.

“We’ve been to this stupid bar every weekend for two months—but only on weekends the Jets are home—and you all but stare at them the entire time we’re here. Which one do you want to take you home? Because I will go ask him for you right now so we can go anywhere else in this fucking city.”

Jasmine faltered, took a look at the group, and shook her head. “You can’t.”

“Is it one of the married ones?” asked Taylor, interjecting suddenly and very loudly from where she’d been leaning back in her chair and watching the conversation. “Because if it is, we’re definitely going somewhere else next week.”

“It’s not. You just can’t.”

Elyse and Taylor both rolled their eyes; Elyse left to get another drink and left Taylor to judge Jasmine alone.

Jasmine knew it was ridiculous to insist that they keep coming back in the hopes that Adam would return. Especially when she had put on such a show of not seeing him again. She just couldn’t work out for the life of her why he wasn’t showing up when so many of his teammates were there every weekend.

She had already decided it would be the last night; Taylor’s words just solidified it.

The conversation moved on, an easy and natural shift into complaining about clients they’d dealt with that day. Jasmine participated as much as she could while her head was still very much in Adam’s bedroom.

She didn’t even wait for a break in the conversation to tell Elyse, “We’ve been coming back because he’s never been here.”

“Huh?” Elyse mumbled into her drink.

“Adam Lowry. Walking this way,” Taylor said as she pretended to be doing anything but watching him.

Elyse’s face immediately morphed into a delighted and devious expression that Jasmine never wanted to see again, especially directed at her. The situation was undoubtedly made worse by the fact that Adam was there, that he’d finally shown up and, even more so, was allegedly walking towards her.

She braced herself for him, holding her breath as she waited. She didn’t want to give anything away to her friends, lest they use it against her, but she also couldn’t predict what Adam would say or do.

If he was even walking her way.

It really didn’t feel like he was. She had to inhale before she passed out.

“He went to the bar,” Taylor said, her eyes moving rapidly between Jasmine and the bar. “It is him, though. Isn’t it?”

Jasmine shook her head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“God, you’re a horrible liar.”

It wasn’t any use denying it. She could only imagine what her face looked like in that moment.

The girls talked around her, waiting her out as she tried to shake off the strange feeling in her stomach. Hurt? Not really. Disappointment? More likely.

She was startled when a drink was placed in front of her. A strawberry daiquiri.

“I heard you’ve been attempting to stalk me, Minnie.”

Jasmine couldn’t be certain if her cheeks paled or went red. She could, however, be certain that a shiver ran down her spine due to the cool hand that brushed against her neck before it settled on her shoulder.

“Oh, good,” Elyse beamed. “So, they did notice that we’re always here. It wasn’t for nothing.”

“You should have just given me your number when I asked,” Adam said.

Jasmine was just thankful he wasn’t responding to Elyse. Or trying to get any information he could from her. Jasmine knew she would readily give it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see he was watching her carefully, his hand a steady weight on her shoulder. She should have given him her number, but she already felt pathetic enough for having dragged her friends to the same bar for weeks on end in the hopes that she would see him again. From what she could tell by his expression, he didn’t seem put off by the idea even if he had called it “attempted stalking.”

Then, just before he disappeared, he asked her to find him when she was ready to leave.

Well.

Ignoring her friends at that point was useless, Elyse and Taylor had never looked so interested or so devious. They didn’t let up until Jasmine’s daiquiri was emptied and she was psyching herself up to head over to Adam; at that point, they managed to control themselves and focused on boosting her confidence. It was much needed to quell the nerves that were running through her body.

Not looking at him and his table was crucial to maintaining her nerves. She was desperate to know if he was looking at her, but if she caught him looking back she’d melt into the chair she was sitting on.

Jasmine didn’t need to be looking, though. Not when Elyse and Taylor were giving her a play-by-play of everything they were seeing.

One more daiquiri later, Jasmine made her decision. She felt good; she felt loose. Without a single word to her friends, she rose to her feet and crossed the room to Adam.

The table of men fell quiet when she got close, their silence noticeable compared to the once raucous noise. Adam was, in fact, staring right at her, and he hadn’t stopped since she started moving; Jasmine felt the weight of his attention right in her core.

She didn’t stop at the table—didn’t stop at all—just made eye contact with Adam long enough to wink before she headed straight for the door. He was standing next to her before she even stepped foot outside.

His hollering teammates echoed in her mind even with the door shut behind them.

As they stood outside in the chilly March air, she said, “Jasmine. My name’s Jasmine.”

Adam put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close.

“Can I call you Minnie?”

“Nobody else does, really.”

“Sounds great, then. It’s just for me.” 

if you made it this far, i would very much like to hear what you thought about this fic

[nightmarevore]

Craving — The Hike

Luke invites his new roommate, Rowan, on a hike. The two get lost, and Rowan's hunger gets the better of him....

Contains: Soft vore, safe vore, same size, inexperienced prey, male pred, male prey, minor injuries.

Words: 7,075

Ao3 Link.

The prequel to "I Get a Craving and I Wake Up For You"

Luke’s new roommate was such a strange one. He had a habit of keeping to himself, though Luke hadn’t the damndest clue why. Luke had just moved in and needed a roommate to help pay the rent, and this Rowan guy seemed like the better applicant than all of the other ones he got. He promised Luke quiet time during most hours and rent paid on time. Which was good! A loud, obnoxious roommate was one of the last things Luke needed in his new apartment. 

What he didn’t expect though, was someone so… distant. Rowan hardly came out of his room. The only time he did so was to grab food or scribble something into a notebook in the living room. He at least wanted to get to know the person he would be living with. Especially since he was relatively nice looking. Handsome, even. It wasn’t hard to admit that the boy had a bit of a crush on the other. 

Something something something you have a type, and it’s jocks.

After some time of giving Rowan some time to settle in, Luke knocked on his door inviting him to go on a hike with him. It’d be good for exercise, and though Rowan looked like he didn’t need it, it was at least a nice bonding activity. They could talk on the trail and get to know one another. It was a sound plan. 

“This is one of my favorite trails.” Luke begins, stepping a foot forward. He holds a hand over his eyes, blocking the sunlight. There’s a long walk ahead of them, but they can make it. 

“…Mhm.” Rowan responds from behind him, taking a few steps forward to walk closely behind the other. 

Luke thinks about how mysterious Rowan is. Even now, he’s mysterious. Distant. What kind of person is he? He works out, that much is clear. They spoke before in the past, but nothing like full conversations. It made the boy a bit sad. 

This is going to fix that, though. He knows it will. 

With determination in his eyes, Luke removes the hair tie from his wrist and pulls his hair back into a messy bun. He turns to Rowan, motioning forward, and then taking off with a fast walk. 

“What do you do for a living anyway, Rowan? I feel like you’re some kind of cryptid.” Luke speaks up with a cheeky smile on his face. 

Rowan snorts, trailing behind his roommate. Luke wants to play small talk? Best to play along for now. 

“I’m in between jobs.” He states bluntly. Best not to get anymore deep than that, right? He has no business knowing more about him. It’s best if he keeps to himself. For Luke and for himself. 

Despite how nice his new roommate seems. 

Rowan isn’t one for conversation, is he? He expected that to sort of go on for a bit longer, but it didn’t. He’s not much for conversation, is he? He’d be able to get something out of him, right? They are living in the same space after all. They should at least know a little bit about each other.

“So… Cryptid. Alright! That’s fine, don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” Luke’s smile remains, and Rowan scoffs.

This is just a ploy to get him talking, isn’t it? Luke doesn’t… need to be close to him. He doesn’t hate Luke, he just…. His condition makes things hard. He just needs someone to pay rent with and move on. 

“You’re not much of a talker, huh?” Luke asks, shrugging. “Anyway, you go hiking before?” 

Rowan’s eyes gaze along the trees they walk past. This place is beautiful. He has to wonder just how Luke found this place. He glances back over to the shorter man, making sure he hadn’t fallen behind. Maybe cryptid wasn’t far from the truth. 

“Once or twice, when I was younger.” Rowan answers. 

“Did you have any good paths here? I think I got a bit lucky, finding this one for us. I’ve walked this trail, but never this path. It’s quite beautiful.” 

“Don’t remember.” Rowan lies. He doesn’t need to tell Luke he never lived here before. Luke doesn’t need to know he’s from out of town. Luke doesn’t need to know his past or his childhood. Why’s he being so pushy, anyway?

Rolling his eyes to himself, Rowan continues to admire the nature that surrounds them. The environment sort of seems to blend together. Between the trees and the rubble, it all looks the same. There’s more trees. More dirt. Maybe a giant rock. In fact, there’s even a bridge over a large pit up ahead. That one is a bit new. 

“You’re fun at parties.” The shifter offhandedly comments as they walk across the bridge. Luke looks down, raising an eyebrow and watching the height. More trees down there. Maybe wildlife? 

Regardless, this is a lot harder than he thought it was going to be. Rowan isn’t really… engaging in conversation. Maybe something, but three or more words isn’t really enough to go somewhere. Swallowing his anxiety, as they make it across, Luke turns on the path’s fork, going off on where he thinks the path might lead to. Looking behind, he sees Rowan still following him. He looks like he’s off in his own world. 

Luke places his hands in his pockets as his eyes trail to the ground. He didn’t know what to say at the moment. What could he even say that Rowan might not shoot down? 

“You play any games?” He chimes in. 

“Eh… sort of.” Rowan responds. 

“Yeah? What kind?” 

“Whatever looks good.” 

“Yeah? what’s that?” Luke raises an eyebrow, turning to walk backwards as he faces his roommate. 

Rowan chuckles, shaking his head. This trick of Luke’s—He’s going to hurt himself. 

“I dunno, I—… I dunno, man. Whatever. You’re gonna get yourself hurt if you don’t walk forward.” Rowan attempts to avoid the question. Maybe coming on this hike with him was a bad idea. 

“What? Nuh-uh, this is fine. Look, I’m totally and completely f—Wuh…!!” Luke’s foot slips, and suddenly he’s falling off the trail and down a hill. His hand reaches out, but he falls too quickly. 

“Luke!” Rowan calls after him, jumping forward. It looks like a steep drop, and Luke is still falling. 

Holy shit, Rowan thinks to himself. He has to go after him. Because he’s dumb, he does. He jumps off the trail and digs his heels into the dirt and slides down, following the path that his roommate made on the way down. 

“Luke!!” Rowan calls out, looking down. It looks like he disappeared along some shrubs at the bottom. 

“I’m okay! I’m alive!” Luke responds, clearly winded. He huffs, terrified. His hand clutches the fabric of his shirt in his hand, and his eyes stare straight up at the line of trees above. 

Rowan arrives at the bottom, skidding against debris of rock, soil, and leaves. 

“Jesus Christ, man! You’re gonna give me a heart attack. I literally just said you were gonna hurt yourself.” Rowan’s voice is filled with worry. Luke smiles at this, thinking that Rowan does, in fact, care. 

“Awww… you’re worried about me.” The man on the ground attempts to push himself up, but he hasn’t fully recovered from all the flips and tumbling that just happened. There’s definitely gonna be a few bruises.

“Shut up.” The other stands by Luke’s side, holding his arm and helping him up. “Can you stand?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little confused. Nothing’s broken.” Luke smiles. 

“Good. No idea where we are, though.” Rowan checks over his roommate one more time. He just has a few scratches here and there. Which is good, really. Things could’ve ended a lot worse. A slight pang hits the back of Rowan’s mind. He thinks that Luke smells quite sweet, actually. Maybe even delicious. 

The pang hits his stomach. 

Oh, dear god, no.

Rowan pulls his hands away from Luke. He fucking forgot to eat before they left. He forgot to eat this week. He thought he didn’t need it, so it wasn’t on his list of priorities. Maybe he can fix it when they get back? The only issue now is getting back. They’re far beyond any sort of trail now. If they end up being out longer than expected…. 

Rowan bites his lip, holding his breath. 

“I think we need to get home. A-and get you, um… Y’know, taken care of.” Rowan spits out. 

“Oh! Right, of course.” The size shifter looks down to the ground, getting a feel for his feet again. No more walking backwards. Got it. “I sort of know this trail. I think we’ll be back on track if we go this way.” 

Pointing in a direction, Luke motions for Rowan to follow. 

He’s not sure how Luke can just tell where they’re going, especially now. Each mini tower of tree just kind of looks the same. They all do. Same enough to blend together. 

He just has to bite the bullet and follow him. To trust him. 

. . . 

“Not to be a dick, Luke, but when do you think we’ll get back?” Rowan raises his voice, speaking up. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since they last made a turn. Trees, shrubs, and the occasional log mix together in one bland pallet. Rowan thinks his stomach is beginning to hurt. 

“I-I dunno…. I kind of…. I dunno.” Luke mumbles, lost in his thoughts. He’s beginning to regret this, wondering if this was a good idea at all. Between Rowan refusing to really engage and Luke falling and hurting himself, this was starting to be a disaster. “Why?” 

Rowan tenses up, eyes widening. 

“N-no reason.” The man places his hand over his stomach, wincing at the sudden sharp pain that shoots through his stomach so quickly. 

Everything is fine. Things are fine. Rowan hopes they’re not too far away from the correct trail so they can get back on track and home. The pain dissipates, but he knows it’s not for long. He knows it’ll get worse the longer this goes on. 

Luke turns to look at his estranged roommate, raising an eyebrow. His expression speaks louder than his words. ‘No reason,’ he says while he looks like he’s annoyed to hell and back. Is he making that bad of an impression? Maybe it’s the fact they’re lost. 

Lost…. He hadn’t thought that until just now. 

“I need you to not be mad, but I think we’re lost. Like, maybe we took a wrong turn.” 

Rowan chews at his lip, grumbling. Fuck.

“Awesome.” Sarcasm seeps from the predator’s words, and it’s then he knows agreeing to this was a bad idea. He thought maybe giving Luke this one interaction would satisfy his curiosity, but now he knows he shouldn’t even have done that. Now, Rowan finds himself needing to keep his mouth shut. His sharpened teeth are beginning to show in full force; a display of the man’s gnawing hunger. He can’t even hold them back correctly. 

Shit, he didn’t think this would happen so fast. His hunger has never hit him this hard before. Could it be the moment? His nervousness and anxiety? His hand’s grip on his middle tightens. The ache in his belly trembles in and out in waves far more aggressive than before. Luke’s smell…. it’s enough to make him drool. God, he hopes he doesn’t. 

“Listen, I-I’m sorry, I know this sucks. But we can find our way back. I know we can. It’s not all bad, yeah? This trail isn’t too big.” Luke motions for Rowan to follow him, huffing and biting his lip. This is fine. Everything is fine. They’ll be able to get back on a decent trail. To get back home. Luke can just… pretend he didn’t fuck everything up. “Let me know if you recognize anything? It can help get us back on track. If you were paying attention.” 

“Uh, yeah… Sure. Will do.” 

Just keep walking, Rowan. Ignore the pain. Just keep walking. Walking behind Luke. If he can just stay out of Luke’s line of sight, he wouldn’t have to notice how awful he looks right now. The two trek aimlessly forward. 

This isn’t getting any easier. In fact, it’s getting worse. Every step led to more, intense pain. Longer pangs of starving hunger. His stomach fighting his body—Demanding a meal. And that horrifies him. In fact, as Rowan’s eyes land on Luke’s back, watching his hair bounce in his bun, watching his arms move as he walks, he begins salivating. 

No, absolutely not. This isn’t a fugue. Rowan still has his mind. He’s not about to ruin what’s supposed to be a fresh start with his stupid Predator bullshit. If he just holds on a bit longer, then he can make it and just pay off some random in the town to sit in his stomach for a while…. 

Rowan’s arms both wrap around his core, hoping it’d somehow stop the pain. Which doesn’t work, because of course it doesn’t. Rowan’s stomach lets out a pained, hollow empty cry. He’s doomed.

“Whoa, someone’s hungry.” Luke chimes in, keeping his eyes forward. Did Rowan not eat before they left? The thought almost makes Luke feel even worse. He’s so clumsy, his fall got them in so much trouble. With how distant Rowan is, he wouldn’t be surprised if he hated the man. Luke would hate him if he was in Rowan’s shoes. 

He huffs, shaking the thought. Focus on the surrounding nature and push through. 

With another sound coming from Rowan’s stomach, even louder this time, Luke’s brows furrow and he stops to turn around and look at him. 

“Did you skip breakfast or something? Dude, we could’ve gotten something for you on the way here, you know!” The size shifter speaks, placing his hands on his hips. 

Luke suddenly turning around startles Rowan. This isn’t good. 

“No, no, it’s…. It’s fine, I just—… Uh, I didn’t—“ The predator’s mind blanks. The churning and full on punches in his gut are nearly unbearable. Fuck, Rowan is hungry. He fails to hold back a subtle hiss at a particularly large pang of hunger. He breathes through his teeth, his lips curling back lightly and showing off his sharpened canines mindlessly. 

He really can’t hold this back any longer, can he? Rowan’s focus lands on Luke’s somewhat surprised and terrified expression. 

Rowan really is a monster. 

Luke thinks Rowan looks absolutely terrible. He looks pale. He’s hugging his stomach, and his teeth…. Were they always sharp? 

“Uh….” Not knowing how to respond to the situation, all Luke can do is laugh pathetically as he rubs his arm. “What’s… uh, are you… okay…?” 

Fuck, Rowan thinks. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

There really is no going back from this. He didn’t want to resort to this, but if he held out any longer, something was going to happen. Something bad. His mind would fog and he wouldn’t be all there. He didn’t want to scare Luke more than he already has. 

Hopefully Luke isn’t claustrophobic. 

“Ah… Luke, um… have you heard of preds? Predators?” Rowan finally asks, biting the bullet. 

Green hues stare at the other man in silence. It feels like gears are turning in his head. He keeps rubbing at his arm. 

“I dunno, a little? They… need to eat people, I think. Right? They’re rare.” 

Rowan nods in response. Good, this isn’t going to be a complete shock. 

“Yeah, well… That’s me, that’s what I am. A pred.” He sounds words through another wince, feeling awkward and vulnerable. “And, well, uh…. I made a mistake, and I need to eat. Like, Right now.” 

Luke completely freezes, trying to read his roommate’s face. Is he trying to play a joke? He’s not acting like this is a joke. His mysterious, handsome, jockey roommate is secretly a predator and needs to eat people. Rowan used to be so quiet, and now…. 

Luke’s breath hitches, and his face flushes as he realizes the situation. 

“You… Wait, you… need to eat me? Like right now?” This is genuinely something you don’t hear everyday. Luke is a size shifter, it might be easy to shrink down, but is he even safe? “How does that work? Would it hurt? Would I be okay?” 

Luke’s mind is racing, and that’s understandable, but Rowan literally cannot wait anymore. 

“No! Um, at least, I don’t think so.” Rowan hates this. This is so weird. “I mean, nobody’s ever… Nobody I’ve ever… you know, has been hurt from it.” 

His stomach is screaming at him now. The sight of Luke nearly has saliva slipping out of his mouth. 

“Well…. What do you say?” 

“Uh….” Luke hesitates. His face is bright red. This situation is something he couldn’t have imagined in a million years. He had never been eaten before. Even so, how were they going to navigate with Luke inside the other’s stomach? Even that thought alone sounds ridiculous. He’s thinking about being eaten right now, how insane is that? “I… guess so? I-I can… shrink down, or something, to—“ 

Rowan’s hands reach over for Luke’s shoulders quickly, not hearing anything else after being given the okay. He’s so hungry he needs someone down his throat now. He surges forward, mouth wide open and his fangs on full display as Luke’s eyes widen at the sight. He doesn’t have much time to react as Rowan’s mouth engulf’s Luke’s entire head, shoving him headfirst. The predator immediately swallows at feeling his meal press against the back of his throat. 

Each swallow is quick, loud, and aggressive. Luke couldn’t even finish his sentence before being eaten. All the size shifter can do is keep his eyes shut as he’s continually and forcefully shoved down his roommate’s throat. The fact this is even happening is enough to make Luke dizzy. His body is constricted by the powerful organ, and any attempt to move or shift fails as he’s trapped in place. 

Rowan’s heartbeat approaches the man’s ears, and the predator himself gently closes his eyes. He purrs as he takes in the man’s flavor. He feels the other’s head descend from his throat and into his chest, making him desperate. Rowan grabs at Luke’s arms, sliding his body further down within him with a few thick swallows. 

Luke’s head slips into the desperate stomach, and they both feel it. Luke hears nothing but the sounds of Rowan’s body around him. His swallows, his breathing, his heartbeat, and even his stomach as he enters the empty chamber. It groans at his presence, and he can’t tell if it was out of hunger, or because it now has food in it. 

Food? 

Did Luke just refer to himself as food? 

This entire situation is overwhelming for the size shifter. Five seconds ago, being eaten was a brand new concept to him. Now, he’s being stuffed and swallowed down. Pushed further and further down his roommate’s body. He even feels his feet lift off the ground as Rowan continues to loudly swallow his entire body. His face flushes, and Luke finally opens his eyes. The inside of the stomach is just as dark as Rowan’s mouth and throat. His breathing is hitched as he swallows more and more of his body, and his heartbeat is racing. It’s wild how much of his body he can hear…. It’s kind of enjoyable.

A chill runs down Luke’s spine. The warm air of the other man’s insides coupled with the cold air of the outside made for a strange, body temperature difference. Not only that, but the fact that Rowan is so much more stronger than he looks. This should be impossible, lifting someone up like this. 

With an aggressive exhale out of Rowan’s nose, the predator groans as he feels Luke finally filling his empty stomach. He should be filling him up and rounding out his middle. Determined to get the rest of him down, he grabs Luke’s legs and lifts them up as he pulls his head back. All that remains now are his roommate’s waist and legs, this shouldn’t be too hard to finish now. A muffled, surprised yelp can be heard through the flesh of his center. Luke shifts, feeling the weight and gravity shift to pull him downwards. Thankfully, said gravity would allow him to get his meal down with a few more hearty gulps. 

One swallow sends the rest of his waist down. Luke’s arms press against the stomach walls, trying to keep himself from being pressed up against the flesh in front of him uncomfortably. 

Another swallow pulls Luke’s thighs past his lips and down his throat. The powerful organ grumbles at the presence of such a filling meal. Satisfaction, perhaps?

Rowan lets go of the man’s legs, believing they’ll sit still and slide down. Downwards, sliding ever closer down the tight confines of his throat. 

With how powerful and strong each swallow felt and sounded, it’s almost like Rowan has eaten people like this so many times before. Has he? Luke tumbles around inside, trying to get more comfortable and in a better position as more of his body slips through the esophagus and into the fleshy organ. It’s tight in here, that’s for sure. 

In response to feeling the other shift within him, the predator swallows, getting past his knees. He feels Luke’s hands press all around the walls inside. His back even leans up against what feels like the front of his belly. 

Luke isn’t sure what he thinks about this situation. Maybe one more swallow would seal him within another human being. Something he never even thought of in the past. But he’s here now, being eaten. Being swallowed down and hearing the powerful swallows, the powerful heartbeat of someone else. Seeing the body from where one would never usually see it. 

Why… did this feel nice? 

Luke feels so satisfyingly comfortable to the predator. The way he moves about and the way he sits inside him just feels right. His mind craves this; the feeling of another person moving within his gullet. Within his stomach. He knows he’s going to regret this. He always does. Despite this, right now, he needs this, and he is going to allow himself to bask in the moment. 

Gllk—!

“Ah, Rowan?” Luke’s muffled voice chimes in again. 

Rowan doesn’t hear it. He closes his eyes, leaning his head back once again. His lips ring around his prey’s ankles.

One more swallow.

One of Rowan’s hands press against his expanding, distended belly. It feels wonderful. His free hand lifts, pressing down on the other’s feet to force them past his lips, into his mouth, and down his throat. A  powerful swallow seals them, sending the man’s entire body into his stomach with pride. Finally. Completely encompassed by flesh, Luke is entirely within him. He takes his hand back, straightening his head. His throat massages at his prey’s body, but it’s this final, powerful, loud swallow that sends them down quickly to meet the rest of him. 

Rowan exhales with relief. 

With all of Luke finally stuffed within the organ, the size shifter curls up, trying to keep himself steady. Rowan’s breathing picks up, and he can feel Rowan shift around outside as he moves around himself. This… this is strange. 

Pressing down into the flesh under him, the consumed man attempts to prop himself up and squeeze himself through the flesh that hugs him into a comfortable position. Saliva presses his clothes into his skin, as well as his hair. The walls gently knead at him, and he finally feels like he’s in a somewhat better position. But he keeps his hands steady, to keep himself in an upright position. 

Rowan’s fingers guide themselves down the curve of his middle. Hunger and pain are replaced with fullness and contentment. Luke’s movements as he tries to get comfortable even feel amazing. Like an internal massage. He feels as though he hadn’t focused on the feeling of his meals this much before. His stomach gurgles loudly, perhaps happy to finally be fed. It’s even nice, no, wonderful, to watch Luke move and shift under the skin. To have Luke under his skin…. 

All his. 

Mesmerized by the sight, he thinks of how much of an idiot he was for not doing this sooner. Why would he go this long without feeding himself? Not with how nice this feels. God, he’s an idiot. Gently pressing over the bump that he thinks are one of his meal’s hands, a burp forces its way through his chest and out. 

He covers his mouth, though his worry isn’t here. He’s finally full.

“I…. Do you feel better?” Luke’s voice is quiet, and calm. Definitely hides the fact that Luke’s cheeks are bright red. 

The muffled voice of his roommate through his skin jolts the predator out of his haze. 

Oh, right. He just… ate his roommate. He basically just met this guy. This guy didn’t even know anything about his monstrous side. His hunger for people. Living people. Now, he’s curled up within his gut. God, how does he even feel? Rowan’s been so focused on himself he didn’t even bother to ask how Luke felt. Is he terrified?

“Shit, yeah… Much better.” Green eyes fall to his middle, attempting to make out the man’s orientation under all those layers of flesh and organs. Rowan swallows nervously, dropping his hands underneath in an attempt to support the weight of his stomach and asks in a small voice, “Um… You okay in there?” 

Luke falls silent, looking up. Is he okay? Fuck, he doesn’t know. Rowan is so mysterious. He’s a predator and needs to eat people alive, for God’s sake. The burp from earlier pushed all of the walls against him and made his cheeks hot. What did the burp even mean? 

He feels as Rowan’s hands brush the outside and support his weight. Rowan enjoys this? Did he act like this with everyone he eats? Maybe… Maybe he was a good meal? Eugh, it feels weird calling himself that. But that is what he is, right? Rowan ate him. He’s inside the predator’s stomach. 

He thinks that he’s lucky Rowan can’t see his face. He swears, his face must be so red it’s embarrassing. So many conflicting feelings. 

“Y-yes!” Luke nods and closes his eyes. Maybe he can just focus on the sounds that surround him. The feelings that surround him. It’s soft, yet tight. Definitely not as tight and constricting as the throat, though. Opening his eyes, Luke presses his hands back into the fleshy walls to keep himself steady. “I’m a bit thrown off, though. I thought you would wait for me to change my size, or something! I didn’t expect you to eat me at full size.” 

“Y’know, I… probably should have.” Taking a heavy step backwards, Rowan aims to rest his back against a tree behind him. Luke shifts inside him in response to the change of weight. The predator exhales. He’s so dumb. Potentially, this can ruin his new apartment situation. All because he couldn’t get a goddamn meal at the right time. “I couldn’t stop myself, I guess. It got pretty bad there for a sec.” 

Fuck, this is embarrassing.

“Look, Luke, uh….” Rubbing at his wrist, Rowan looks away from his stomach. “I-I’m sorry… about this shit. I kinda was planning on not mentioning this to you at all. It’s not something for you to deal with.” 

The idea that Rowan felt horrible for not eating is strange. If it felt bad, why would he hide it? Luke looks up to where Rowan’s voice booms down from above. Rowan looked awful before. Sick and the color had nearly left his face. He should’ve at least known in case of an emergency…

Luke huffs. 

“It’s fine, yeah? I got us lost in the first place with that fall. Plus I’ve heard a little bit about preds before. It’s not all bad, okay?” Exhaling again, Luke looks around before looking back at his hands resting against the fleshy walls of Rowan’s stomach. Out of curiosity, he presses them outwards, letting his hands sink in. He wonders what it looks like from the outside. “I’m glad you told me, but this was a helluva way to tell me, huh?” 

Huffing, Rowan lets out a small laugh. 

“Heh. Yeah…” His eyes drag themselves to his stomach. They watch curiously as Luke presses out. His hands move instinctively to press back at the bumps. It’s strange, the predator can feel the shape of Luke’s hands through the layers of flesh. It’s so strange, but something about the way he’s settled within him feels… right. Perhaps even better than any prey he’s had in the past. “… Thanks. Though…” 

Rowan realizes his anxiety about this whole thing is still pretty high. Why wouldn’t it be? This new person in his life is guaranteed to see him as a total freak now. Even so, the presence in his stomach; the weight of the other so perfectly filling up his insides and moving against the walls, has him feeling so very comfortable. 

“I’ll get you out eventually,” The man finally finishes. “We don’t have to acknowledge this happened afterwards. It must be pretty weird.” 

“It’s not something I’m used to! That’s for sure. I don’t really know how to describe it, but I guess I can cross ‘Get eaten by the guy I took on a hike and got lost with’ off my bucket list, right?” Luke laughs to himself, albeit awkwardly. Rowan laughs softly in response.

It’s flustering to feel Rowan move around him. To push at him. To breathe. To speak. To live. Rowan is already pretty attractive as it was, but this is different. Intimate. Indirectly, their hands are pressing against each other. They’re close, in the sense that Luke is literally inside of the predator. Under his skin. Swallowed down and consumed, tucked away. Closer to Rowan’s heart than he would’ve been outside… 

Luke wonders if his face can get anymore red. 

“Um… How does it… feel? To… have someone in your stomach, like this?” The shifter spits out. 

Hm. What an awkward question, Rowan thinks. 

“… I’m not sure how to describe it super well. Perhaps like this… little weighted warmth right inside of you. I can feel you move around and brush against the inside of my stomach. I can see you push out and roll… It’s a strange sensation, but… It’s nice. Comforting, in a way. And…. and you feel really nice in there.” Rowan’s hands mindlessly massage against his distended belly. His eyes gently drift shut, and he focuses on the feeling of Luke within him. Between the weight, the warmth, and the rising and falling of his breath, the near perfect sense of fullness is breathtaking. This sensation his roommate gives him feels like he was made to fit perfectly inside his stomach. Inside his core. 

Rowan jolts, realizing the words he just said. The thoughts dancing around his mind. He blinks as his eyes quickly widen and his face flushes. Dread overtakes him. 

“I-I mean, like— It’s like… like you being in there stops the hunger, right? I-It’s nice to, uh, not be in pain and all that!” The man chokes out in a cough, once again forcing himself to look away from his stomach. Luke shifts as the cough squishes him within. He can feel his face heating up. What the fuck, Rowan! What the fuck?!

Luke stays silent in an attempt to sort his thoughts. He curls up, leaning further into the stomach wall behind him. It wraps around him and he feels himself sink. Rowan’s breath hitches around him as he feels the sensation. Rowan definitely has his weight leaning against something, though the shifter doesn’t know what. Focusing on the sounds that surround him, his face flushes as he’s described as ‘nice.’ It’s a simple thing, really. Such a small, insignificant comment, as he’s surrounded by and hugged by Rowan’s flesh. The organ that gently kneads at and squishes him. That groans and gurgles around him. Rowan’s heart as it beats. His lungs that inhale and exhale—Luke subconsciously met his breathing with his predator’s. 

Rowan really, really likes this, doesn’t he? Maybe… Maybe Luke likes this, too. However, he shifts to shove his face into his hands, burying himself into the nearest stomach wall. 

“Um… I—I see. It’s not, um… as tight as I expected, you know? Your stomach really stretched out. I can’t even begin to think what it looks like from the outside.” Luke finally exhales, accidentally kicking his foot into one of the stomach walls.

“Huh? Yeah? Oh, yeah. That is pretty weird, isn’t it? But I think it’s a predator thing. Stretchy insides, I think? Something a doctor told me as a kid, I dunno. I’ve never had much trouble getting bigger things down. That’s—pretty fucking weird to say, isn’t it?” A finger traces gently along the curves of Luke’s body tucked away within him. He chuckles. “You have made me a bit bigger, though. If I look hard enough, I think I can make out the position you’re in?”

Luke feels thankful that Rowan can’t see his expression, especially at the last comment. He might not have let him live it down, if he did. Probably. Would he think he’s weird for getting so flustered? Being inside here was a lot nicer than he expected. Squishy and a bit wet, but nice. Honestly, he can see himself getting tired enough and falling asleep. 

Luke shakes his head. He has to stay awake. How weird would it be to fall asleep inside the man who just ate you? … Well, probably not as weird as eating someone. Still. 

He thinks to himself for a moment; the cogs turn within his brain. Luke moves his body curiously, using his legs to press down and force his head up against whatever wall was above him. He knows he’s not upside down since his head isn’t being pulled down by gravity, but whatever orientation he’s at within Rowan’s belly is unknown to him.

It’s a tight push, but he forces himself to go as far as possible, trying and failing to hold back laughter.

“Whoa—hey!!” Rowan yelps as he watches the skin of his middle strain against the shape pushing out from his torso. There’s a prominent bump. It stretches out, vibrating with the other’s laughter. “What the fuck, dude! That is not an invitation to test it out!”

He shoves back into his stomach with his open palms, feigning anger and annoyance but failing to hold back the laughter that bubbles within him and forces itself out in response. Honestly, the squirming and pushing feels genuinely and strangely nice. He can’t place it, but having Luke inside and moving around like this has him more relaxed, significantly more compared to the start of their hike. Luke laughing in there is soothing. Perhaps even ebbing away some of the awkwardness from before. 

“Yeah, Sorry! Sorry, I wanted to try it. I couldn’t help myself.” Feeling the push back, he falls back into his previous position. Rowan massages the skin around him, and it’s soothing. This isn’t so bad. He also noticed his roommate became more talkative, too. Is this a way to get him to speak? To be eaten…?

“Pretty sure you’re right side up, in case you wanted to know, by the way.” Rowan chimes through his thoughts.

“Oh! Okay, cool. I wasn’t sure. It’s hard to tell what’s up and down in here.” The shifter responds, burrowing into the predator’s insides and closing his eyes. Man, he really is getting tired. Incredibly tired. He didn’t expect this to be so.. relaxing. Is it the warmth? The organ wrapping around him and holding him in place? 

Wait, aren’t they lost? 

Luke’s eyes shoot open. 

“So… um… How are we going to get home?” 

“How are we—?” Fuck, right’s right. They’re lost. That’s what’s happening. And now Luke is stuck inside his belly, unable to see anything outside of him, which means…. “I guess I gotta get us back now, huh?”

Rowan groans in annoyance, wishing he paid attention to literally anything around them earlier. With a huff, he removes his hands from his bloated belly and pushes himself off of the tree he was leaning on. He has to accommodate for the new weight now, too. He’s used to having bigger prey, but not… moving around like this. 

“I guess I’ll just start walking? Hope for the best?” The predator looks down to his stomach as he talks to it and begins walking. 

“I guess? Maybe try and turn around? I dunno…” So much changes around the size shifter. The change in weight as Rowan stands up and begins to walk. He can feel every step he takes and his breathing and heartbeat pickup at the sudden action taking place. This is all too weird. Luke brings his hands up once again to press against the walls on either side of him to steady himself. Maybe he should try and break the silence in the meantime. So, Luke takes a breath and says, “How often do you need to do this, if you don’t mind me asking? Eat people, I mean.”

“Oh, well, uh… Maybe every few—” Rowan cuts himself off. This isn’t Luke’s problem to deal with. Rowan isn’t a child, he’s just a really weird hungry adult. This is a one time thing. It has to be. He can’t subject Luke to more of this shit than is necessary… No matter how much he enjoys his sweet taste or the shape of him inside of his gut. “No, no. You sure you even want to deal with that? After we get back. Somehow. Like, this shit will be over and I can spit you back out and we don’t have to ever talk about this again.” 

As a form of punishment for himself, Rowan removes his hands from his engorged stomach and shoves them into his jacket’s pockets. He wants to touch it and feel more of Luke’s form, but he won’t allow himself to.

“I dunno, I just want to know. We live together, so I wanted to know…. I wanted to take this hike to get to know you…” Did Luke mess this up already? They were talking before he mentioned getting back home. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned it at all. Maybe it would’ve been better for Rowan to stay leaned up against whatever and they could just talk. “If this is a part of you, I’d like to get to know more about it.”

Rowan sucks in a breath. His pace slows down as he listens to the muffled voice of his roommate. His meal. He seems so sincere about wanting to get to know him. Rowan isn’t sure how to react to that. He figured Luke would want to try talking to him. It was expected, but to go this far? To continue with his curiosity, even after Rowan fucking ate him? … A strange sense of warmth blossoms within his chest at the idea of Luke accepting even this part of him. 

“You—You really don’t mind this? Me being like this? You’re okay with it? I mean, look, I’d totally get it if all of this had you wanting to back out and find a new place or kick me out or whatever.”

“I don’t…. mind it, Rowan. I’ve heard a little bit about predators before,y’know?” Lyke swallows nervously, his face flushing again. At this point, his face will never be a normal color while inside Rowan. This is going to be fine. “I’m fine with it. I wouldn’t move out over something like this. I’m just… glad I could help you, in some way.”

Vague crush on the predator notwithstanding, that is.

“Oh, well… Thanks, I guess.” Rowan picks up the pace, trying his best to follow a vague trail that he manages to pick up. Trees and grass and trees and more grass and dirt… “I… Usually go once every two weeks or so. Maybe even a bit more if I’m dealing with, uh… cravings.”

As he spits out the final sentence, Rowan hesitantly removes a hand from his pocket and lets it simply rest upon the top of his engorged belly as he walks.

The faster pace shifts the stomach again. Luke holds the walls to keep himself steady. Who knows how long this’ll take. But man, did he want to fall asleep right now.

“You get cravings? Is that what the pain was about earlier? You looked like you were so uncomfortable. It must really suck having to deal with all this.” Luke replies.

“Yeah… It’s consistent, for the most part. Just gotta feed myself every now and then. Sometimes my stomach gets a mind of its own and I get cravings. It’s a pain in the ass.” In retrospect, thank god his cravings didn’t spiral into a full on mind fog. He never feels like himself like that. Like the predator within him shoves itself into the front of his mind and doesn’t stop until it gets what it wants. Hopefully, Luke wouldn’t have to see that. “You’re right though. If I can’t eat like this every now and then, it gets really bad. I start to feel woozy and it hurts like a bitch the longer I wait. Can’t say I’d recommend being a pred…”

“That sounds so rough… I’m really sorry I got us lost. I feel so bad about that.” Finally, Luke lets out a yawn. He sinks fully into the wall behind him. It’s… nice, despite what Rowan describes. Would he be doing this more often? Would he even let Rowan eat him again? Would he ask? He didn’t think he’d mind doing this again. The process of getting down was weird, but overall, it’s pretty nice. Despite the bile that causes his hair and clothes to stick to his skin. “If it’s any consolation, it’s nice in here.”

Shit.

“Heh…. don’t apologize, and…. Thanks.” Rowan smiles, patting the top of his belly. He looks down, green hues looking over the skin. Feeling Luke relax inside. 

However long it takes to get back on track, maybe it’s not all bad. 

[forfluxsake]

a personal slash solitary blog where i publish my doodles, have hobbies, and do anything typical of the average person

utmv server ad

before i write anything else, i’m promoting my utmv (undertale multiverse) server. JOIN PARTYCHROMA TODAY! FOREVER LINK: https://discord.gg/sATaZ8WZDh

if you aren’t sensitive to bold text, fonts, weird symbols, and eyestrainy gradient rainbow themes, join partychroma. it’s a neverending party for people who’re into undertale or deltarune aus and the like. it’s quiet for the time being, which is why i’m hoping people find this post

we are welcoming of anybody who’s willing to have a good time. the server provides funny roleplay channels, a place to showcase your creations, roles, incredible people, and more. i put effort into it and stuff so that’s great

…a better, less half-hearted advertisement can be found on disboard. hope to see you there!

about me

if you’re wondering who i am, hi

i’m flux.

i am a male and i use he/him/she/her pronouns. that’s all you need to know to respect my existence. if you have any questions direct them to the asks feature i just enabled

what do i like doing? doodling, writing, listening to some funky tunes; learning… i’m not picky about creative activities, but i do tend to procrastinate. my hyperfixations are seasonal and i suffer from being unable to let go of past phases. the list of my interests is infinite. if you care, i enjoy a variety of indie rpgs, object shows, args slash creepypastas, webcomics, and television shows.

cartoon series pique my interest the most.

boundaries

(be my friend)

i’m a minor. this much information is self explanatory as to how you should approach me. obviously don’t interact with me if you are a nsfw age-restricted page, but also don’t attempt to send me weird asks

i don’t talk about politics.

i think being friends with me requires a lot of patience. sure, you may friend me on my discord, o5fo, but understand that i’m terrible at one on one conversation. if you don’t get straight to the point, i will most likely not respond.

preferably keep contact with me through our shared communities or mutual servers and not direct messages.

if i’ve crossed a line, i encourage people to express their discomfort. nothing is gained from radio silence. (it’s not like i’m not anxious as well LOL don’t be shy to contact me [on dis] if it’s important)

what to expect

this blog is sfw, though it’s prone to having violent and dangerous content, mostly because i’ve drawn a fair amount of works with blood or upsetting themes. be wary of who you follow, always, and take steps to protect yourself online. take advantage of the filter tool to block tags that trigger you.

i will occasionally open art requests. but i won’t do too many at a time.

i might touch on some uncomfortable topics while i’m maintaining this nostalgia-seeking blog, especially about past controversies in the communities i was in since i was a child. and depending on the post, i will treat the flaws in said communities seriously or jokingly. please do not take it the wrong way if i redraw those memories.

assume everything i say is light-hearted for the sake of everybody; spare yourself the trouble of thinking i’m trying to invalidate people’s experiences. i never want to come off that way

fanart. expect a handful of art in general. uncolored/whiteboard doodles are abundant. i have ocs- but i’m anything but organized.

that’s a wrap

i wasn’t prepared to end this post

[croc-odette]

the way it took less episodes for tng to begin to humanize the borg the most inhuman trek villains who were actively built up as literally like faceless drones there wasnt much of an ethical implication about killing but literally their second appearance in best of both worlds already trying to imagine what it would be like to be a borg drone from picards perspective and next they show up in i borg where its like ok we take the normal star trek approach of seeing every living being as worthwhile and not inherently monstrous and so on that was fewer episodes than what theyre doing with the gorn its like crazy

Even just from a style perspective, the borg spent a few episodes like ‘oh no, scary!’ And then bc that would have been boring to just keep doing, they started to do eps like ‘what if we captured a borg, could we ethically send it back with a disease to kill all of them’ or even just some pure drama of ‘what if captain picard…. BECAME a borg???’ And then an episode following up on the guilt of that. And even then, I was surprised how few tng episodes were about the borg. Snw is hamstrung by having half the eps in a season, but instead of really packing new stuff in, they keep wasting time on ‘what if we had cool guns to kill gorn monsters with’. Which while fun or silly in its own self-aware genre, feels really out of place and boring in Star Trek.

I think it also is just an incoherent view of the gorn as a species. They’re instinct-driven violent predators with no intelligence; but they’re also smart enough to build ships and space suits? They’re cannibalistic, but they’re also able to work together to command ships. They’re animals who are just trying to eat; but actually they’re intelligent enough to be ‘pure evil’. It’s whatever is convenient in the moment to justify unexamined thrill in murdering them.

If they were animals with instinctive behavior, then I think the Star Trek precedent would be: let’s defend ourselves and get the fuck out of here, but also these are just animals trying to survive and reproduce (ie: picard wouldn’t develop a bloodthirsty vengeful hatred against all bears if a bear killed a crew member). There is no ethical behavior behind animals eating and surviving. A wasp is kind of gross when it reproduces by injecting its eggs into another insect, but it’s not ‘evil’.

But that would mean the gorn wouldn’t be intelligent enough to have spaceships, which creates the convenient problem that our brave heroes HAVE to keep killing them without debate bc the gorn are able to pursue them! So somehow the gorn are smart enough to build spaceships capable of pursuing starfleet ships. They are smart enough for their actions to be considered ‘evil’. But not smart enough to be considered a race with a culture or intellect.

I’ve already talked about how the ep where they say the gorn block telepathy, meaning spock can’t talk to them, is a deliberate way of writing off diplomacy as a possibility. Those nasty gorn are just so mean and violent (and capable enough) that they block telepathy! It’s their fault! Which prevents a devil in the dark Horta solution, and allows the show to shrug and keep using guns as a solution.

I say all of this crap not because I really care about the integrity of the gorn. Who cares, it’s a fun alien. But in a franchise that wants to claim political awareness and goodness, its unsettling to dissect repeated writing choices over and over again (not just about the gorn) that support classic conservative and jingoistic talking points. “The enemy isn’t human or even intelligent, it’s an animal operating on base instincts; except when it’s so smart it can outwit our brave soldiers. And when you kill them, you can ENJOY killing them, because it’s one more dead enemy.”

The borg, changelings, jem hedar, Klingons, romulans— they were handled, some more than others, in ways that should invite criticism and skepticism about the intentions of the show. But they were humanized and explored further than ‘excuse to hand everyone an assault rifle and swat armor.’ A new show would ideally be improving or challenging past shows’ failures or missteps, not taking a huge step back. The gorn problem is even more glaring because it’s a sharp and bleak turn from the themes of trek shows that precede SNW, and from the actual episode the gorn come from.

[roboticonography]

it's getting really upsetting to see certain corners of the fandom demonize peggy. do you have any thoughts on the matter?

Oh, if only this were a new thing, anon!

I’ve been in the MCU fandom since before there was an MCU to speak of. Shitting on women characters and the actors who play them has been going on forever. People posted about how they hated Pepper Potts, saying she wasn’t a good partner to Tony because she didn’t constantly enable his erratic behaviour, or sacrifice her safety to accommodate his trauma. They posted about how Pepper should have died in Iron Man 2, for the good of Tony’s story, and when Iron Man 3 came out, they said the same thing. It was fucking exhausting.

People also posted about how they hated Natasha Romanoff, how they hated Jane Foster, how they hated Wanda Maximoff, how they hated Sharon Carter. 

And yes, there were Peggy-haters then too. They called her a “karate-kicking fucktoy” and a “vengeful feminazi” and those are the most polite terms I can recall. They complained that she was too powerful, they complained that she was too feminine, they complained that she was pointless without Steve, they complained that she talked about Steve too much. And so on, and so forth, ad infinitum.

Now, to be clear, I am not talking about some of the very valid criticisms people had about the Agent Carter series - its writing, its casting, etc. I am also not talking about the very valid criticisms people have about the larger MCU related to representation, or lack thereof, across multiple fronts. I believe it’s possible to enjoy a piece of media and still have issues with some (or even many) aspects of it, and I enjoy reading posts that grapple with those issues. I’m not even talking about venting about a popular character you can’t stand: that has its place, though I’d argue that the place is probably not in the tag for that character. (I guarantee you, your “unpopular opinion” is never as unpopular as you think.)

I’m talking about misogyny. The same tired, rehashed, played out bullshit woman-hating that has existed in fandoms, so many fandoms, for at least the 25+ years that I’ve been active in them.

And that’s still what’s happening.

Many of the posts I’ve seen that fall under this category are expressing anger that one character or relationship or storyline or interpretation of canon is getting airtime, while another one, one they like better, is not. I’m not going to argue with anyone about that. You like what you like, and you're entitled to be annoyed if you don't get it. But if your argument is sound, you should be able to make your point effectively without calling the character the grossest euphemism for vagina you can find, or speculating on the exact sex acts an actor had to do to keep her character popular.

Other posts I’ve seen are just absolute buckwild conspiracy theory nonsense. The only thing I have to say about that is, yikes. Get well soon.

Tumblr, like other social media platforms, recognizes that they get more engagement if people are forced to play in the same sandbox, which is why it probably feels like you're seeing a disproportionate number of hate posts. And anyone who writes for money on the internet knows that hate clicks are often the juiciest clicks, and so they will write articles and listicles and polls with titles and subjects designed to get your blood up. It’s become increasingly difficult to avoid seeing other people’s ridiculous opinions. But that’s still the strategy that I find best helps me enjoy fandom. 

So if “certain corners” of the fandom are not to your taste, anon, then my advice is this: block, blacklist, and just don’t engage. Don’t feed the trolls. Instead, put that energy into positive interactions. Make art. Comment on things you liked. Find your friends, and have conversations that inspire you and amuse you, instead of ones that make you angry and tired.

Thanks for the ask! Take care.

[heroloverangel]

Good Morning

Ingenium remains #1 on the list of characters who deserve more screentime.

You’ve never been a morning person, but this is ridiculous. For weeks now, you’ve woken up every day feeling nauseous beyond belief. Every meal has become a 50/50 chance of your stomach rebelling and sending you running for the nearest bathroom and you’re rapidly getting tired of it. You knew pregnancy wasn’t going to be easy, but you assumed you’d get to enjoy at least a little bit of those wacky cravings instead of gagging at the sight of most normal foods.

You stagger out of bed this morning, just like every other morning this week, into the kitchen and drop heavily into a chair at the table. Tensei’s been awake for awhile; coffee is just the latest item on the list of smells that make you queasy, and he’s been great about drinking it as far away from you as possible. “Hey,” he smiles over at you from his place at the stove and you groan back weakly. “You having another rough morning?”

You give a dismissive shrug. “I still feel like garbage, but it’s better than yesterday.”

He nods and reaches for a pan. “At least that’s something. Think you can handle some breakfast?” You weren’t hungry a minute ago, but your stomach rumbles at the suggestion and he laughs. “I take it you want your usual?”

Your usual at this point is just plain eggs with no seasoning. There aren’t many foods you’re able to reliably keep down when you wake up, but a boring plate of eggs is certainly the most convenient. You’re not unreasonable enough to demand freshly grilled salmon every morning, and you’d just feel bad sending him out for those chocolate-stuffed croissants from the cafe a few blocks away that always has a line out the door in the mornings. You’re more than happy enough with your bland scramble made with love by your adoring husband.

Or at least you would be, if your stomach didn’t choose today to betray you yet again. One moment you’re sitting peacefully at the table watching Tensei stir a spatula around the pan, and the next moment you catch the scent of the frying eggs and have to actively fight your gag reflex. Without a word you lurch out of your chair and rush for the bathroom, illness rising higher in your throat with every second. “This sucks,” you wail to him across the house between heaves; you know he’s busy with the fire hazard on the stove and only vaguely hear him yell back a sympathetic response.

After twenty minutes you pry yourself away from the anchor that is your toilet, gargle half a bottle of mouthwash, and then collapse back into your bed. Tensei reappears soon enough with a tray for you, only toast and ginger ale, and you sulk as you pick at your new breakfast while he rubs your back soothingly. “I wish I could do something to help.”

You relax into his touch and sigh. “I wish there was anything you could do. The doctor said it should pass in a couple more weeks and we’ve just got to wait it out.”

He runs a hand through your disheveled hair. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a great job handling this. I know it can’t be easy.”

You smile faintly and cuddle closer against him. “Oh no, it’s awful. But I’ve got the best hero in the world giving me plenty of support.”

“Best hero, huh?” His grin matches your own, and you can feel his stubble when he leans over to kiss your cheek. “If you’re already that impressed, I guess I didn’t need to call the cafe and order some of those croissants.”

You force yourself to swallow the bite of toast you just put in your mouth. “Hey now, I didn’t say that.”

You’ve always loved his laugh. “Think you can wait about thirty minutes for them?”

“That’s a big ask,” you tease and take a small sip of your ginger ale. You know it’s supposed to help with nausea, but you drink so much of it you’re starting to hate the taste. “I’m guessing your brother wouldn’t be willing to speedrun them over, huh?”

Tensei’s eyes crinkle with happiness at your joke, “You know that sense of humor is just one of the many reasons I married you.”

“Oh really? You know we’ve got thirty minutes, we’ve got time for you to tell me all the other reasons.”

You’ll be the first to admit that this morning didn’t exactly get off to a great start. Now though, as you curl up in your husband’s arms with his pipes positioned safely out of your way, your mood’s improved significantly. There’s a cool breeze coming in from the window with the morning sunshine, and you get the feeling you’ll doze off before the food arrives. You don’t mind that idea, you know your precious croissants will be waiting for you when you wake up.

You let out a yawn and blink up at him. “Love you, Ten.”

“I love you too. Go ahead and get some rest, you two need it.” His voice is soft, and the last thought you have before you fall back asleep is that no one else in the world could ever make you this happy.

[atths--twice]

The First Halloween

It's William's first Halloween. Who is more excited?

Season 9 never happened. As far as we're concerned, the story faded out with two people celebrating the birth of their son. They have moved on in many ways, together, as it should have been. This year, William celebrates his first Halloween as an active participant and it's hard to tell who is more excited.

Fictober Day 2 prompt: Just in case this doesn't work

October 31, 2002

“Oh my goodness. He looks so adorable,” her mother said to Scully, smiling at William in his puffy pumpkin costume. “I don't think that little hat will last too long, though.”

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t,” Scully said with a laugh. “Although we have been putting it on him every day for the past couple of weeks to get him used to it. He’s better about it, but I’m not too hopeful it will stay on all night.”

“It does complete the pumpkin outfit, but he’s still cute without it.” Her mother knelt down beside him, touching his costume. “So cute.”

“Gamma,” William said, handing Maggie a colorful block. He looked up at Scully and touched his hat. “Off. No.”

“You don’t want to wear it?” she asked and William shook his head, tugging at the strap of the hat. “Okay. You don’t have to wear it.” She helped him take it off and then kissed his rosy cheeks. “I love you, little pumpkin.”

“Puh-in,” he said, patting his costume and smiling. “Puh-in, Mama.”

“Yeah. You’re my sweet pumpkin.” She kissed him again and caught her mother staring at her. “What?”

“I’m happy to see you happy. To have him. To have…” She broke off as tears filled her eyes and Scully reached over to hug her. “I’m just so happy for you, Dana.”

“I know, Mom,” she said, closing her eyes as she held her tightly. “I am too.”

Little hands patted against both of them and they laughed as they separated and turned their attention to William who looked at them curiously.

“William, my love, what do we say when we knock on the door?” Scully asked, smoothing back his light brown hair. “Knock, knock.”

“Tick teet,” he responded, grinning at her.

“Oh my God,” her mother said, laughing and crying at the same time.

“That’s right. Such a clever little pumpkin,” Scully said to him, kissing and hugging him as he repeated himself over and over.

“Hey hey,” Mulder called out as he walked in the front door, home from work at last. “It has been a day. Oh, hi Mrs. Scully… sorry, Maggie.” He smiled at her as she rose to greet him.

“Hello, Fox,” she said, kissing his cheek. “I’ve come to join the stroll through the neighborhood this fine Halloween evening.”

“Good,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and looking at Scully and William with a smile. “Speaking of which, I saw some kids out when I was driving in. Is the candy ready?”

“In the bowl on the table. Oh! I forgot to light the pumpkins.”

“I got it,” he said, giving Maggie a quick squeeze before stepping away to pick up William who was running to him as quickly as he could in his costume.

“Dada! Dada!”

“Hey, little pumpkin man. You are so adorable.” He kissed William’s forehead as William patted his cheeks and giggled. “Hat didn’t make it, huh?”

“As we predicted,” Scully laughed as she joined them, putting one hand on Mulder’s back and the other on William’s. “Did you not have a good day, hon?”

“Eh, it was fine. But it’s better now.” He smiled at her and she raised up, kissing him softly. “How about we wait on lighting the pumpkins and giving out the candy and we head out now?”

“No, we can wait. My mom brought dinner with her and I’m sure you're hungry.” She gave him a pointed look, knowing he most likely missed lunch as he was wont to do, his focus on teaching becoming all consuming.

“I can-” he started to say and she stopped him with a shake of her head.

“We’ll eat first. Go change.”

“Was she always so bossy?” he asked Maggie, handing William off to her. “Or has it just been since I’ve known her?”

“Little bit of both, I’d say,” Maggie said, smiling as she looked at Scully.

Ding dong.

“Saved by the bell,” Scully told him, raising her eyebrows at him as she went to grab the bowl of candy. “Go. Change.”

“Alright. Alright,” he said, sharing a look with Maggie as he began to untie his tie.

Thirty minutes later, the dishes soaking in the sink for their return, they were heading out for William’s first Halloween.

Scully blew out the candles in the pumpkins and a sound to her left made her look up to see Mulder pushing the stroller.

“Just in case this doesn’t work with him walking the whole time. He’s small yet, but still, he gets heavy.”

“I was going to suggest it, actually. For the exact same reason.”

“Great minds,” he said, grinning at her and stealing a kiss as he passed.

Children of all ages ran past or walked at a slower pace, the streets empty of vehicle traffic. William stopped to watch them, waving excitedly and clapping his hands.

Two little girls dressed as angels stopped and told him he was a cute pumpkin.

“Puh-in!” he exclaimed, touching his costume. “Puh-in!”

“Yes. You’re a pumpkin. We’re angels. See our wings?” They turned around and he gently touched the delicate silver and white wings.

“Pity,” he said softly and Scully exhaled a shaky breath while her mother gasped and put a hand to her mouth.

“Thank you, little pumpkin,” the older girl said, smiling at him when she turned back around. “Happy Halloween. Have fun!” And then they were off, with William waving goodbye.

They all walked to the first door, but let him go the last few steps on his own.

“Knock on the door, honey,” Scully said. “Knock, knock.”

“Tick teet!” William called back to her and they all laughed.

Mulder walked up and rapped on the door twice before stepping back to rejoin Scully and Maggie.

The door opened and an older woman drew in a deep breath at the sight of him. Squatting down, she smiled at William.

“Did you knock on my door, little pumpkin?”

“Knot. Tick teet. Knot.”

“Trick or treat, yes. Would you like some candy?”

William nodded and then noticed a cat that was behind the woman.

“Oh! Cat. Hi, cat!” He waved and the woman chuckled softly.

“Come here, Blue. You have an admirer.”

The snow white cat chirped and wound itself around the woman’s legs, staring up at William with big blue eyes. William placed a hand on the woman’s knee and lowered himself onto his own knees to get closer to the cat.

“Mulder,” Scully whispered, shaking her head, thinking they should stop him.

“He’s okay,” he whispered back as they watched him pet the cat and then press his forehead to the top of the cat's head.

“He likes you,” the woman said as the cat dropped to the ground and started rolling around.

A group of kids ran up, pushing past the three adults and startling the cat. He ran back inside the house and Scully hurried forward to collect William.

“Hold on now,” the woman said firmly to the other children. “This little pumpkin was here already, he gets his candy first.” She handed William a bag of m&m’s and he took them, looking around for the cat.

“Cat?” he asked as Scully picked him up.

“Thank you,” she said to the woman and she nodded as she began handing out candy to the other children. “Come on, sweetie. We’ll see the cat later. Do you want to go to the next house?”

“Cat,” he said, looking back at the house sadly. “See cat.”

“I know,” Scully sympathized, kissing his head and holding him close.

“Maybe we need to have another discussion about getting a pet,” Mulder said hopefully as they walked to the next house and William continued to look over Scully’s shoulder.

“Maybe,” she agreed.

“You heard that right, Mrs. Scully- I mean Maggie? You heard that she agreed to have a pet?” he asked, turning to look at Maggie, who was pushing the stroller.

“I heard an agreement to a discussion,” she answered, smiling mischievously as she met Scully’s eyes. “But if I get a vote, I’m definitely pro pet.”

“Yes! You definitely get a vote,” Mulder said, nodding enthusiastically.

“Mulder,” Scully laughed, shaking her head.

Four more houses and William lost interest, not knowing or caring about getting candy. They walked around the neighborhood looking at decorations instead, William now in the stroller. When he began to yawn, they headed home.

Pajamas on, stories read and lullabies sung, he was down for the night.

The dishes washed and put away, they answered the door for a few more children before turning off the porch light and joining Maggie, who had been persuaded to stay the night, in the living room for a glass of wine.

“So about that pet discussion,” Mulder said, taking a drink and winking at Maggie. “I say we skip right past it and just vote yay or nay to getting said pet. Mrs… Maggie?”

“Mulder,” Scully admonished him with a laugh.

“I vote wholeheartedly in favor of getting a pet. Do I need to remind you about Mr. Buttons, Dana?”

“Mom,” Scully said, her mouth dropping open in disbelief.

“Ohhh, who’s Mr. Buttons?” Mulder asked.

“He’s the cat we had when I was younger. He looked similar to the one we saw tonight, but he was more of a soft gray color,” Scully explained, shaking her head at her mother.

“And you loved him,” Maggie stated, before taking a sip of wine.

“I did. Very much,” Scully agreed softly, thinking of the sweet, soft cat who used to sleep at the foot of her bed.

Mulder and Maggie looked at each other and Scully sighed.

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes affectionately, knowing she had been outvoted. “Let’s get a pet.”

Expecting a whoop of happiness from Mulder, she was surprised when his celebration was quiet.

Leaning forward, he tapped his wine glass to Maggie’s and grinned at her.

“I thank you, Maggie. Wholeheartedly.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, Fox. More than welcome.”

[workingforitallthetime]

I would be super interested in hearing more of your thoughts on the bedard athletic article... i read it just now and. hmm.

OK we’re back for Part II, the Bedard/Fantilli parenting part! (Part I here.)

I previously squawked about being jarred by the subhead in the Star: “But Connor Bedard’s story was always more about raising a happy and grounded child than a star.” But now that I’ve processed both articles, it’s not necessarily off-base. The Bedards clearly do very much care about raising a happy and grounded child. It’s just that their philosophy about how to accomplish that outcome seems to be focused around making sure Connor has everything that Connor thinks he needs.

There’s presumably a difference between everything that Connor thinks that he needs and everything Connor actually needs, just like there is with any teenager. So what really stands out to me in both of these articles is the many examples of how the Bedard parents seemingly do not ever go against Connor’s decisions around hockey, even when they’ve had (or arguably should have had) legitimate misgivings. Some examples from the Toronto Star article:

Melanie didn’t think Connor should apply for exceptional status, to the point where she was losing sleep over it. Connor “told her how upset he’d be if she blocked his goals,” and she caved. (The quote is from The Athletic but Melanie’s emotions get more attention in the Star.)

This quote from dad about little kid Connor going to open ice: “He’d stay there eight hours at a time,” says Tom. “More, sometimes. He’d come off, eat, go back on. His feet would be literally bleeding. I would go on once in a while, but normally I would just let him do his thing.” Like… maybe it’s time to make your kid take a break if his feet are literally bleeding????

Ah, the Hawaiian vacation, the trip that Connor refused to go on unless he could take his hockey gear and keep practicing. There’s a series of choices there as a parent. Not only are you acceding to your kid’s demands to play hockey in the midst of your one and only family vacation ever, you’re actively facilitating his demands by paying to check his goddamned gear bag and leaving your own relaxing lounge by the pool/on the beach to drive him to the only rink on the island (which I’m fairly confident was not walking distance from any resort they may have been staying at.) Like!!! That is such a series of choices!!! All made in the service of allowing your hockey-obsessed kid to have exactly what he wants, rather than deciding that perhaps it would be good for him and for your whole family to have a tiny little vacation from his life’s obsession!!! (Much of the information in this paragraph is based on the TSN spot, which has the most detail about this trip.)

I think it’s super interesting that the coach of the Pats says he’s tried to dial Connor back (making him take days off, against Connor’s wishes) but apparently his family never has.

This is not the Fantilli family shared decisonmaking model, where all four of them talk about collectively making every decision about what Adam’s path has been. (And also extol the importance of family vacations.) In the Bedard family, Connor is driving the bus and his parents have decided that their role is to support him as he decides how best to follow his dreams.

I was absolutely gobsmacked by this quote:

Melanie moved to Regina to be Connor’s billet the past two seasons, because nobody knew what it would be like for a kid of his calibre, and as Paddock puts it, “His whole preparations are based around perfection, and she’s the only one that knows it.” 

Moving because you don’t want your 15-year-old to live with strangers would be completely understandable. Moving because you are the only person who can possibly live up to your 15-year-old’s standards of perfection and you don’t want him to have to live a life where everything is not exactly perfect for him is FUCKING BANANAS.

Of course, there’s a Fantilli contrast here too. I’m thinking of the interview where Adam said his performance coach therapist helped him “turn rituals into routines.” Learning how to cope when it is not possible to have everything run exactly according to your standards of perfection seems like a fairly important life lesson for your kid to learn if you want him to be happy and grounded. (Most parents start teaching that around the time their two-year-old throws a tantrum because the purple cup is in the dishwasher so they have to drink their apple juice from the green cup.) But maybe it’s less important if your version of “happy” is that your kid gets everything he wants.

It’s interesting that there’s a common thread between the Bedards and Fantillis of some distaste for the minor hockey scene. (“Melanie had already started staying away from the games after experiencing the fierce currents of youth hockey on the moneyed North Shore.”) The Fantillis dealt with that by finding a different path that took their kids out of that system entirely, and the Bedards don’t even seem to have considered that option. Connor wanted exceptional status in the CHL and that’s what Connor got.

And maybe that’s connected to another interesting Bedard/Fantilli contrast. The Fantills, in describing their shared decisionmaking model, always seem to radiate confidence that they’ve made the right decisions, even when those decisions have been hard or haven’t been popular. See, e.g., Julia emphasizing in Adam’s TSN spot that “it was about making the right decision for each son,” or Giuliano evangelizing the prep school route in the Gulo Gulo article, or Adam explaining, “It’s probably about a week-long process for every decision that we make and I don’t think we’ve made a wrong decision so far.” But the Bedards, apparently, have some self-doubt about letting Connor drive the bus:

Bedard’s parents still worry. Melanie worries about school taking a relative back seat — in the room at the Brandt Centre, a chart of Hamlet’s characters is the only real indication it’s a classroom. Tom thinks about the kids of the people he works with, and how they’re growing up.

“Their kids play hockey, but they hunt, they fish, they motorcycle, they snowmobile and they’re good at all of them,” he says. “But they’re not great at any of them. But is that better in the long run? Maybe it is.”

sources: The Athletic, the Toronto Star, TSN, Gulo Gulo,

[9w1ft]

Hi 9. I hope you are well. Your blog has been a balm for my soul in dark times, read your comments full of confidence it's like fresh air.

I would like to ask if recently or in the past, you have received unpleasant comments saying that we are wrong in what we believe in addition to adding insults, etc. How have you learned to deal with it and if at any point have they hurt you emotionally?

aw heyy thanks for saying that!

oh yeah over the years i’ve had my share of flack and insults in my inbox or maybe i’ve had an altercation here or there, and sometimes you can put a bandaid on and go about your day but usually it’s still a cut you can feel. i guess the tl;dr: would be, i think that over the years ive learned to find the right blend of environment and outlook that sets me up to have it hurt less. also i think being able to contextualize hate dismantles its power greatly.

the big thing that youve got to have the ability to laugh at yourself. this is such a wild situation to be in! embrace it. a little self deprecation goes a long way. if you let go of the need to be understood by everyone and you recognize how wild of a situation it is that we are in, and if you can laugh about it, it cures most things imo.

next you have to keep the context of the hate in mind. a lot of things i’ve had said to me just dont hurt because i know the people saying them just don’t understand what they’re talking about 😆 maybe this comes with time.. like maybe if you hang around long enough it will click, but people from different parts of the fandom are speaking from completely different languages of meaning and beliefs and so i’ll see a comment and just be like wow that’s so fascinating how this person got compelled to compose that and say it with their whole chest. couldn’t be me!

another thing is just, it has a lot to do with where we are at and what i believe or what other like minded people do. to us, we have kiiinda already reached a kaylor win condition. i know people would disagree and i get why, but to me, in the grand scheme of things, i don’t feel the need to argue or defend because we’re already there. we’ve already made it! all the rest is a bonus to me. and so what this outlook does is it makes any hate seem really really quaint. like don’t care if rude people don’t understand. why would they deserved to? 😆 they should stay right where they are.

i think hate can hurt more when you at a point where you are less confident of what you think or if you want to listen to everyone and make sense of everyone as a way to uphold ‘fairness’ or a sense of a greater community but, when you are around long enough and get a better sense of each groups’ different motivations, you come to realize that your good intentions to involve and convince everyone is a bit of a fool’s errand because at the tops of each group is a core that will never move from their position. in the end it’s just more about a personal journey, i think. and i think usually you pick a lane or a group and just stick to it and most of the drama feels different because when you stop feeling the need to litigate, hate becomes confrontation for confrontation’s sake, and then the hate stops being about you, and you can see it as a part of a bigger thing.

also one key thing… i think it’s eons easier to avoid everyday conflict on places like tumblr than on twitter. it’s easier to curate what you have on your blog and its not a very public facing platform so things are more quiet and don’t spread to the general public. this filters out a ton. and there’s less eyes on your stuff and like people can screenshot and bitch on their own space but it’s not a quote tweet so you don’t really have this sense if you’re being talked about. you can block and even block individual IP’s, or on the flip side you can monitor activity on statcounter and see patterns of where messages come from and it kind of dismantles the mystique of them. tumblr makes it a lot easier to just do your thing. it’s not always in your face. and i would have a different persona and talk differently if i was on a different platform.

and i think people in general are better at staying in their lane here than on other platforms. over the years we have all sort of found our pockets and in general we stay in them, i think! so the stuff i do get is just always worded and delivered in the same way so i know its from the same people so it’s a little bit like kramer popping in on any given episode of seinfeld. it’s just part of the routine at this point 😆