#just now writing the previous post i was like

[whimsyfinny]

He's a Winchester

Chapter 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It's been a long time since (Y/n) and Dean's paths have crossed. Last time they saw each other it was ‘98 and they were young and living in the moment. Nine years down the Line, their paths cross again, but (Y/n)s longest kept secret is about to become Deans reality.

Slow burn (ish), mom!reader

Warnings: language, mention of toxic parenting/custody battle, angst, alcohol,

Chapter Word Count: 3471

MDNI 18+

A/N: here it is! I’m not gonna lie, this is going to be very slow burn at first, but don’t worry, you know me and you know how much juicy content I write so it’s definitely coming hahaha. I’m also trying to figure out a schedule for posting this, so hopefully I can upload two chapters a week.

A/N2: GUYS IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING but PLEEEEASE provide your age if you want to be added to the taglist and it isn’t in your blog. This story is tame now but it’s gonna get spicy, and my blog is strictly 18+. So pleeeeease save be a very long job and help a gal out. 

Photos from Pinterest

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I reached for the bottle of wine for the third time in the last hour and a half. I was sitting with Kat, pyjamas adorned, in the living room of mine and Levi's modest two bedroom house. For financial (and personal) reasons, our little house didn't follow current trends and looked more like something out of a popular 90s sitcom. The couch was comfy, the blankets were fuzzy, and a fresh pot of coffee was always brewing. Pictures embellished the walls of every milestone Levi had achieved; every birthday party, every new dirt bike, every new hairstyle. There were a few of Kat and I from over the years, going way back to when we first met back in ‘99 and both decided to rock platform heels on at the turn of the millennium - having tiny babies at the time didn't seem to stop us. Every single moment on these walls was a happy memory - something that I would treasure forever, yet there was something missing. There were no photos - or perhaps a scarce few - of my own parents, or of them with Levi, or of any extended family for that matter. The price I paid when I decided to have my son out of wedlock, at barely twenty years old, with a man who my family saw as a total stranger, is a price I'd pay every time in a heartbeat. Kat and Toby were our family now, and that was more than I could ever ask for. That was why the sheer possibility of Levi getting to meet his dad for the first time in, well, ever… it had my mind spinning. It was a scenario I'd dreamt of, late at night when I couldn't sleep and the burdens of life weighed me down. I conjured false memories in my minds eye of the pair of them fixing his bike on the drive or driving to school in the impala. I pictured us having breakfast together as a family and taking trips to the movies. Being together. Because no matter how many dates I went on, or how many frogs I’d kissed over the years, none of them were Levi's father.

None of them were Dean Winchester.

“Girl you have to reach out to him,” Kat walked in from the adjacent kitchen before slumping on the couch next to me, wine glass elevated to reduce spillage.

“Kat I could barely look at him today without feeling like I was going to have a heart attack - how the fuck am I supposed to talk to him?” I glanced at her with wide eyes, every nerve in my body on edge despite the wine and scented candles. Kat sighed. 

“You might never get this opportunity again, and we both know that if you don’t give Levi the opportunity to meet his father then you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.” I held my breath, urging the raging storm in my mind to quiet down before letting the air gush from my lungs.

“Yeah I know. I just…I just never thought that this would actually happen, you know? I never thought that Dean would show up here. I figured Levi would eventually track him down when he was old enough to make that decision on his own. I have no idea how to even approach this.”

“Sure you do!” Kat beamed, a wicked glint in her eye, “you sit him down and say, ‘Hey Dean! Remember when we had sex in the back of that amazing car of yours nine years ago? Well, actions have consequences, and yours in eight years old and sitting in his science class right now.’”

I couldn't stop the grin from spreading across my face and I cackled when the bit of popcorn I threw landed in her wine glass.

“Bitch.”

I blew her a kiss in response to her insult. It didn’t take long though for the distraction to run its course and for my mind to return to its state of panic.

“But seriously, what am I going to say to him? What if I tell him, and he rejects us too, like my family did?”

Her smile softened.

“From everything that you’ve told me about that man, I highly doubt he’s going to reject you. Sure, he might not stick around permanently, but he sounds like the kind of guy that would stay in touch,” her softened smile turned to a stern stare, “but he’s only going to do that if he knows. He deserves to know he has a son.”

I took a long gulp of my wine. 

“Yeah, I’m going to tell him…” I paused, gnawing my bottom lip as I drew my knees to my chest, “it’s Saturday tomorrow so I’m not at work and Levi has two hours at the track. I can try to do it tomorrow, but I’m not sure if I’ll even be able to track Dean down in that time - I have no idea where he could be.”

“Hey, I’ll pick up Levi from Motocross - it’s been a few days since him and Toby have spent any proper time together anyway, just them two. Tobes’ has been dying to show him those brand new boots of his.”

We shared a smile. That’s the thing about Kat; she always had my back, no matter the situation.

“Thanks babes, I owe you one.”

She shook her head.

“No way - this is me returning the favour from when Toby’s dad decided to show an interest in his own child. I’m pretty sure my kid thought you were adopting him at one point from how much he stayed here,” I laughed, remembering the camp bed I bought especially for Toby, along with all the extra duvet sets and boxes of cereal I’d had to purchase for the best part of half a year.

“He’s a good kid, and honestly he and Levi entertained themselves for most of it.”

There was another pause in the conversation as I recounted how difficult it had been for Kat when David had shown up, insisting on being a part of Tobys life despite zero contact since his son was born. They’d argued over custody, over which school he went to, the clubs he attended. Even his hobbies were on the line, with David wanting him to play football despite Toby already being involved down at the track with the bikes. The stress caused Kat to lose weight and sleep, and she nearly lost her job over it all when she kept falling asleep at her desk. I’d lost count of how many times she’d cried in my arms. Cried over a man who thought that practically owning his son was his God given right despite being an absent father, and I think that is what scared me the most. That I would feel the same wretched things that she felt, and the waves of disappointment that crashed over her time and time again when false promises were made. It took her months to settle on an agreement due to David's behaviour, and Toby finally sees his father, albeit only for one weekend a month. It's better than nothing, but certainly not worth the fight that was fought with blood, sweat and tears. 

I hope from the bottom of my heart that Dean takes the news well, and doesn't leave us in the dust like he does in my worst nightmares.

It had taken me around thirty minutes to track down Dean. Well, to at least find the impala. It's common knowledge that if you find that car, Dean isn't far away. I’d parked my truck two spaces down, and luckily we were within walking distance of my favourite café, Jolenes’. It was my safe space. The place that I would finally tell him about Levi.

I pulled the sleeves of my soft cardigan down over my hands to stop myself from chewing nervously on my nails. Leaving the safety of my truck, I paced over to the black Chevy and stood by it, determined to speak to Dean as soon as possible. I knew that if I had stayed sitting behind my own wheel, there was a huge chance that I'd chicken out and just drive away. As I waited I checked over the car in front of me, admiring how he still kept it spotless after all these years. Unable to stop myself, I let my gaze drift over to the backseat, the events that unfurled on the soft leather racing to mind. I pulled my lip between my teeth, unable to resist the replay of memories.

“You have good taste in cars.”

I practically launched out my skin as the voice came from behind me. I could hear the amusement in his voice from a few feet away. I spun on my heel and our eyes locked, the charming grin slipping slightly from Deans’ lips when he realised it was me. The playfulness in his features quickly softened, a true, genuine smile now gracing his lips.

“Dean…” I suddenly felt breathless, but despite my nerves I returned his smile in kind.

“It's good to see you (Y/n),” he stepped forward and pulled me into his arms, enveloping me in his entirety. I closed my eyes as I hugged him back, wrapping my arms around his neck and taking a deep breath, my brain tingling at his familiar scent.

“You too, Dean. It's been too long.”

After a moment we released each other and Dean stood up straight, smiling at me again with a soft twinkle in his eye. We both flinched slightly when someone cleared their throat and he took a step back. 

“Oh, uh, (Y/n), this is Sam, my younger brother,” he patted the shoulder of the young man standing beside him, and I instantly recognised him from the dessert parlour. He was tall, taller than Dean even, which was one hell of an accomplishment, and his face held a similar boyish charm to Deans. Yet he looked softer around the edges, like he hadn't been hardened by life too much yet.

“It's a pleasure, I'm (Y/n). I've known you're brother for a while,” I smiled as I shook his hand, taking note of the rough calluses beginning to form on his palms. “He used to talk about you all the time, apparently you're the smart one of the family,” with a grin and a quick glance at Dean, I tested the waters with humour. If he laughed or took the blow like a champ, now was a good time to talk to him. Sam chuckled, squeezing my hand slightly in his before letting it go. 

“Ouch… (Y/n), sweetheart, aren't you supposed to be on my side here? Y’know, with our history and all…?” he feigned hurt with a hand on his chest before his lips twitched up and he shot me a wink.

“I mean… she's not wrong,” Sam laughed, dropping his hands lazily into his pockets.

“Hey, I'm just going on what you told me, Dean. Don't hold that against me,” I grinned at them both, unsure of what to do with my hands so I crossed them across my chest.

A small breath of silence passed between us, Deans’ gaze holding mine with an intensity that made me want to look away. I didn't. Sam cleared his throat again, clapping his hand to Deans’ shoulder before taking a step back.

“I'll, uh, give you guys a few minutes,” and with an appreciative nod from Dean, Sam gave us some space. With his younger brother gone, my heart began to flutter in my chest. The time to break the news was getting closer, and my nerves were on edge. On fire.

“So,” he started, taking a step closer with a deep breath, “how's it going? How long has it been?”

“Nine years,” I was almost too hot on the mark, my words coming out faster than I'd intended and Dean blinked slightly. I sighed, looking down. “There's been a lot going on, and honestly, I've really needed you at times. You're a hard man to find Dean Winchester.” 

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” his brows pinched apologetically and he reached for my hand, tracing my knuckles with his thumb. I took a deep breath and met his gaze again.

“Do you… do you have some time? I need to talk to you. It's important, and if I don't do it now, I don't know if I'll get another chance.” 

He nodded slowly, giving my hand a squeeze, releasing it hesitantly with a slight wince to his features.

“Uh oh,” he said, “am I in trouble?”

I laughed, the sound light off my chest.

“Oh Dean,” I reached up to touch his face, and his instinctive reaction was to lean into my palm, “you don't know the half of it.” 

The walk to the café had been pleasant. We chatted about what we'd been up to since we last met - Dean revealing he was still in the same line of work and had travelled around a lot, never really settling down. There was something about that nugget of information that made my stomach twist in knots. He learnt I was still a receptionist, this time at the local garage  instead of the large dealership I had scored before. He asked why I'd changed, to go to something smaller, lesser, and my silence urged him to wait until we were at our destination. He knew I was anxious, and he did his best to keep conversation light and breezy until the time was right. To an untrained eye he was unphased, yet I could tell from the lip nibbling and flitting gaze that he was nervous too.

Do you think he's already guessed it?

The bell jingled as we walked in, the two baristas looking up and instantly greeting me with a wave and a smile.

“Hey (Y/n)! Your couch is free,” the first barista, a young man around my age with soft blond curls waved to me across the counter, his brilliant grin making me smile with a comforting familiarity. “Your usual?”

“Yes please! Thanks, Jake,” I returned the friendliness, stepping around the tables until we arrived at my favourite spot.

“And for your… date?” He gestured to Dean, who was now shrugging off his leather jacket, “what can I get for you pal?” 

Dean hesitated, before just holding his hands up.

“Uhhh, I don't know, I guess I'll have what she's having.”

With our hot beverages on their way, I sat down in my usual nook in the corner whilst Dean sat down opposite, in that same plush armchair that Kat had sat in yesterday. Where Kat had been swallowed by the chair and its all-consuming cushions, Dean had the opposite effect. He made the chair look small under his broad form, like it was made for a child. There were a few moments of silence, neither of us really knowing where to start. So I bit the bullet.

“Dean… before I tell you anything, just know that I've been trying to get hold of you on and off for years. Your number always seemed to go to voicemail and I never got a call back. So please just… know I tried.” 

I looked up and he was totally engaged, already hanging off every word I said as he leant forward, his elbows on his knees. Our attention pulled away from each other briefly as our coffees arrived, hand delivered by the second barista - a woman a few years older than myself with a jet black pixie cut.

“Thanks Emily, you're an angel,” I grasped the mug before she even had a chance to put it on the table and clutched it in my lap, letting the warmth seep through my palms to help soothe my nerves. 

“No worries babes, you two have fun,” she looked between Dean and me with a playful smirk, throwing me a wink before she turned around. 

Great, the gossip starts now.

I turned back to Dean who was now sitting on the edge of his seat. I took a deep breath.

Do it now.

“Dean, I have a son.”

I watched his face twitch slightly, almost like it dropped in disappointment, however it was so fleeting across his features that it was hard to tell. He pulled a strained smile onto his lips.

“(Y/n) that's great, I'm happy for you,” he looked down at his boots briefly, choosing his next words, “I guess this is you telling me to stay away, huh? Now that you have a family and all. It's ok, I get it.”

I shook my head, placing my cup on the table so I could pull myself to sit on the edge of the couch, almost mirroring Dean.

“No, no Dean, that's not- look, what I'm saying is…” another deep breath, “you, have a son.”

I watched his eyes go wide, unsure if he heard me correctly.

“What?” His voice was breathy.

I looked down into my mug for a second, choosing my words. 

“I have a little boy; he's eight, his name is Levi…and he's yours, Dean. He's your son.”

I dared to look up at him, watching his eyes go wider and his mind empty of thoughts. Either that, or his mind is racing so fast that it's left his body on standby. I gave him a few minutes to process the news. Or at least process it the best he could as it would likely be days or weeks before this fully sunk in. Nervousness prickled at my own skin, my worst fears of rejection bubbling to the surface again at his silence. I sighed.

“It’s ok, Dean, I’m not expecting you to-”

He stood abruptly, stepped over the coffee table and pulled me to my feet, wrapping his strong arms around me in a crushing grip. His arms were so tight that it almost winded me, yet I returned his embrace. The feeling of his lips on the top of my head surprised me as he kissed my hair, the sensation warm and comforting. He placed one, two more kisses before he cupped my face in his large hands, his rough palms gentle against my cheeks as I locked eyes with him. The sight was beautiful. The annoyance and exasperation that I expected to be met with was nowhere to be seen, and I saw no shadow of negativity within those evergreen eyes. All I saw was love. Pride. Joy. Excitement. The relief washing over me felt the same as climbing into your nice, warm comfy bed when on the brink of exhaustion. 

“I’m a dad?” his voice cracked slightly whilst his eyes shimmered.

I nodded as a grin erupted across his face, followed by an airy, almost unbelieving chuckle.

“Holy fuck, (Y/n)-”

“You’re not mad?” my voice was quiet.

“What?” Dean looked at me as though I’d grown a second head, “of course not. Why would I be mad?”

“Because it’s been nine years since we last saw each other, and suddenly this woman who you’ve not spoken to in nearly a decade drops the biggest truth bomb on you. A truth bomb  that I know you definitely weren’t expecting,” I try to step back but he pulls me in for another hug, squeezing the air out of me a second time.

“(Y/n), sweetheart, this is the best bit of news I’ve had in a long, long time.”

I smiled into his chest, freeing my arms to wrap them around his neck and pull him down into a hug of my own. We stood for a moment in our embrace as the coffee shop busied around us. I knew this shop and I knew this town and people would soon start to talk, start to try and figure out Dean: like who is he? How does he know (Y/n)? Why are they acting so familiar? Is he trouble? But that was all unimportant rubbish that I would deal with later. Right now, Levis father was here, and he knew. For the first time in my adult life I felt like I wasn’t keeping some devastating secret from an incredible man, and it was like I could breathe again. 

Pulling away from Deans’ bear hug, I tucked the wisps of hair away that had come loose from my claw grip and grinned up at him, reaching for his hand. I held it in mine as I swayed slightly on the spot, like an excited schoolgirl who’d just been asked on her first date. Dean smiled down at me, the sort of smile that shone on top of the world.

“So…” I started, biting my lip slightly.

“Do you want to meet your son?”

Taglist: @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @megara0224 @libby99hb @roseblue373 @hobby27 @calibootsgirl @lyarr24 @autistic-gothic @wattpaduser200 @spndeanwinchesterlvr @mxtansy @magssteenkamp @redmaro86 @slut-for-evans-stan @spookyysinsanity @localjisung @king-of-milf-lovers @xshortputax @jerksbitch @multifandoms-saidwhat @deans-baby-momma @writersxxx @rox2008 @jeysbae @ladykitana90 @proudbisexual @ladysparkles78 @elenasalvatore1 @bxtchboy69 @saemiau @lilithlunastark @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @riah1606 @impala67rollingthroughtown

[listleven]

Simple guide on manifesting ✨

Choosing what you want to manifest. This is genuinely the hardest part. Especially if you are a beginner and you think you choose something a bit out of reach for you.... no. Anything is possible. This is classic but even the word impossible has Im possible in it. The thing with this is if you are trying for the first time and have had bad experiences or are expecting bad you are going to try and go for something more attainable or completely over consume. AND THATS OK. Practice is great. Go for what you think is smaller if it helps you ease. But you can manifest even with doubts bc despite the misinformation you don't need to "feel" like you have it. What happens a lot is people give up and stop persisting when they don't see it in the 3d. So they have "backup options". And then they create this cycle of fear that if they didn't manifest this, will this work?? RELAX!! It will.

Persisting. Of course you've heard a dozen times before but why do you think its so popular. Now here you're going to persist until your desires materialize in the 3d. AKA when your subconscious mind has been impressed. Even in doubt you will persist bc it does not make a difference. You will THINK like the person who has it not feel if you can't. Thats literally it.

TIPS:

In order to think like the person living in the end you can write a story from that POV, affirm, meditate, guided meditations to help you relax, I use subs that use present tense, affirmation tapes, SATs, and sm more.

A little tidbit of my own is affirming that the 3d is no more real than a dream. Im going to make a separate posts in all the ways dreaming and the 3d are so similar. That way you can say stuff like "ah this doesn't matter its just a dream in the true reality I have everything I want." This can also induce lucid dreams because I do reality checks and confirm to myself that im dreaming and immediately start meditating to "ground myself" for 5 seconds by doing this Ive done it in my dreams.

Refocus to the 4d if you're ever in doubt. Everything right now, isn't real not time, or physical objects. Go back to the imagination. Its kind of funny right how everyone gaslighted us into believing imagination is not the reality and we had to "come back to the real world" LMOA its literally vice versa

If you are persisting and don't see it in the 3d, don't you dare give up to manifest something more "attainable" this creates a loop where you go back to number 1 over and over. Remember you already have it. How do you know? Because this is no more real than a dream and you are the validation.

Accept the 4d as the only real reality

If you have had "failed attempts" Revise. Bc in the 4d no you didn't??? Ex. all those failed pure conscious attempts are not real , you actually have induced them in the 4d. If you keep persisting and accept that all those "attempts" worked, the 3d will conform.

Reminding yourself you have something and reality checks are the same thing. The most biggest similarity in the 3d and dreaming is you can control both using the 4d. We all know how reality checks work right. Persisting works the same way. I mentioned this in a previous tip above. I’ll do many reality checks confirming the 3d is a dream (bc it’s not real and stuff) and I’ll “ground myself” this allows me to trigger lucid dreams when I sleep AND I’ll add in something like “ofc I’m dreaming in the true reality I have —-“. That’s literally how manifestation works. If something “ fails” NO IT DIDNT. If you got a bad grade after manifesting in a good one, what? But you did get a good grade. In your 4d the real reality. Remember. Remind yourself that none of this is real. You did get that A. You are dreaming. None of this is real.

There are no such things as failed attempts. That did happen. You did shift. Let’s do a “which reality am I in” check right now. Oh and would u look at that you are in your dr.

I’m definitely going to post more about the last two bullet points to give more clarification.

~ with love, Jyspire

[genericpuff]

Was your Kore/Persephone portrayal inspired by dissociative disorders? I interpreted it more as her dark internal monologue that she was suppressing. Like when you have dark thoughts of know things inherently, but try to rationalize your way out of thinking them. I figured it was just a more dramatic way of portraying intrusive thoughts.

Ahh this isn't really a question I can answer with a simple "yes" or "no". Especially when considering everything you just listed are often inherently symptoms of many interlinked mental disorders like DID and BPD haha (especially when it comes to the suppressing).

As I mentioned in my previous post I've been writing these types of characters for years. Uzuki is a big one that comes to mind. I love writing conflicts of the self, mind vs. reality, identity vs. instinct, past vs. present, etc.

CW: BLOOD/GORE, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, DEPICTION OF TRAUMATIC BREAKDOWNS AND DISSOCIATION AHEAD!!!

(note the black and grey pages are read right to left like a manga, this was from my weeb days LOL)

It wasn't until years later after I was diagnosed with ADHD and autism that I realized my love for those tropes was rooted in something far more internal. Sure, sometimes a trope is just a trope, but now I fully understand why I've found myself pulled back to that trope time and time again, because I myself have struggled with a lot of the same internal conflicts that characters like Uzuki and Kore have struggled with. It wasn't just me loving a trope, it was me finding solidarity and representation in characters who shared my experiences, even if they were largely hypothetical or for the sake of creative expression.

That realization came long before Rekindled, of course, but it hit me like a sack of bricks when it did, as any realization of an undiagnosed disorder tends to do after years of thinking you're just "broken". That said, it's allowed me to explore these topics with even more nuance and understanding, while also pointing out my own weaknesses and blind spots in the pre-conceived notions I had about myself that I was then able to challenge once I knew what was really going on. It was still challenging as it was so personal, but it ultimately made me a stronger person and a stronger writer.

Skip to the future though with Rekindled, everything I just explained is why I was so interested in LO's AoW plotline to begin with, because a lot of it played to my own interests in those sorts of characterizations - consequently, it was one of the plotlines I wanted to overhaul the most when I started coming up with the basis for Rekindled, as I was disappointed that it was forgotten about over the course of S2 and completely retconned by the trial arc. In a weird way, it almost feels like all the time I spent working with characters like Uzuki was preparing me for a character like Kore/Persephone. And conversely, writing about Kore/Persephone has helped me harness my skills more which I can take back with me when it comes time to continue Uzuki's story.

All that said, mental disorders and neurodiversity were never "inspiration" to me when I was learning how to write and/or designing these characters, but that didn't make them any less intersectional. It was more like something that just came naturally to me as someone who is neurotypical and has diagnosed mental disorders (I am my own worst inspirations LOL) and I wanted more characters like that who weren't just automatically "villains". I try to always treat them with care to ensure that I'm being kind to both the characters as well as myself as someone who heavily relates to these experiences, but I'm also not really afraid to express the more "ugly" sides of those experiences either. Especially with characters like Uzuki who are largely problematic to their core in their actions - much of those actions, as I would learn about myself in my own healing journey as well, are often spurred on by a lack of care, empathy, and understanding in their unique struggles.

There is so much I'd love to say about Kore and Persephone's characterizations and what led them to this point, but I got about a paragraph in before realizing that it would be WAY too massive of a spoiler LOL I'm really, really excited to get into it - though nervous too - but I hope that, at the very least, readers can have patience for her as she goes through everything that's on the horizon. There are times it may get ugly, even outright bleak, but that is simply one side of the coin that represents her duality as a goddess - the dreaded Bringer of Destruction, and the merciful Goddess of Spring.

[discountdyke]

i love (hate) my scrupulosity brain bc it is a huge reason i dont talk that much on here bc i type things out and then keep typing more and more disclaimers and explanations until ive completely lost the plot and just delete the whole thing

[kaisollisto]

based off of this

Today is frigid and windy, she feels it unforgivingly on her cheeks. Clouds part around her, clinging to her jagged features. They are wet and stifling, a brushing reminder of what she cannot have. It is the only thing claimed from the earth she can touch.

She passes above skylines and craggy mountains and watches. The earth is still cold and unyielding and she yearns for it in a reckless way. A silly wish to feel all that it has to offer in her mouth. She wants to touch, to feel the grainy sands between her fingers and find sand in horrible unbefitting places. The encapsulating experience of teetering the fine line of tasting the sun and burning herself. She wants to be down there.  

She’s heard many names weaved in between her. There are many she’s been called but one that has truly stuck with her, Ava. 

A soft sound pressed between lips, a gentle thing for a large entity like her. She likes to believe that’s who she was before this, a force too big to contain that she had to become this. A mangled thing of roots and chunks of dirt. 

It’s better this way, someone tells her in a foggy haze, she’s fighting them, a sloppy sluggish battle of desperation. Ava doesn’t know why but the memory lingers like a prolonged goodbye. A sort of awkward suspension holding her rooted to the spot like there’s more to it, a truth sitting in plain sight. 

[dandelion-wings]

just read a delightful OT3 story in another fandom involving hot baths and massages, and now I am directly yoinking a bunch of its beats so I can tell myself a bedtime story about Lisa and Kaeya bullying Jean into a hot bath and massages. 10/10, do recommend

[quatregats]

Went back and reread some of Master and Commander again and goddamn is that book rich with detail...truly I did not know how to appreciate it on the first (or second) read-through...

[kyouka-supremacy]

(´･ᴗ･ ` )

[chiropteracupola]

sometimes you start to wonder what the historical record for the guys you made up looks like in the fictional world where they existed. and then you make some fake documents about it.

[moth and compass is a collaboration with @natdrinkstea!!!]

[araneitela]

So, on the topic of female muses. Right, I’ve changed my mind, I want to separate these two topics as this one is really on the forefront of my mind. Man, not once have I ever thought that I'd write a post in which I would genuinely ever use 'as a woman' as part of enforcing my argument, but here I am: May 2nd of 2024 marks the day.

So, here's the band-aid that I'm ripping off: if you follow me for the sole purpose of showing support because I write a female character: don't. As a woman, I actively don't want that mindset anywhere remotely near me. I don't want that kind of support from you, I don't want that kind of pity from anyone, I don't want the 'sisterhood' to rally around me, I don't want 'our girls can be besties' on the simple and mere premise that they're both women. Get out of here, I don't want anything to do with it. If you follow me, I want it to be because I've piqued your curiosity with my analyses, and that I've earned your interest (yes, just like you earn everything in life, including someone's attention and respect), and that I've made you want to approach and interact with me because the character that I write appeals to you on the premise of being a good presentation of a character, regardless of whether she's a woman or not. Do not think for even a moment, that you are under any obligation of interacting with me because I write a female character, because you're not. And honestly, on top of that, I don't deserve any sort of special recognition for writing a woman, I don't face any kind of daily struggles in life for writing a woman on Tumblr.com. I do not and have never felt 'lesser' or 'prejudiced against' for writing a woman throughout all of my years of writing them off and on across so many different fandoms, both canonical and original alike; nor have I ever needed to work harder to get them any sort of interaction(s).

I genuinely hate reading so many posts that tell me to 'hang in there', and to 'stay strong, girlfriend' as if I'm fighting some war: I'm not. I don't want to be associated with this kind of mindset and/or behavior, I rebel against it and would shout it from the highest rooftops if my lungs permitted me to do so. I do not write a woman because I want to 'represent women', I do not write a woman because I'm 'fighting against discrimination', I do not write a woman to get respect from other women, I do not write a woman because I love women more than anything else in this world, I do not write a woman to help carry any sort of torch for my sex, and I certainly don't write a woman to say 'fuck you' to men. Honestly, and I say this as a woman: it would be pretty devastating to know that you, a (most likely) fellow woman on this platform, would reduce a female writer to wanting to write a female character for those reasons, and nothing else. My rage then, would be aimed in one direction, and one direction alone. And quite honestly, it's already there; my respect is more than halfway out the door.

I write the female characters that I do, because they're amazing characters that happen to be women, and I've written amazing characters that happened to be men. And guess what, many of those amazing female characters that so many of us love so desperately? Have been written by men, just like women, too, have written incredible male characters. I wish that were a reality that many of you could look at and realize, instead of pointing fingers at 'cishet men', as if they are the huge majority within this RPC.

Any way, I'm getting a little off-topic so let me get back to my point, because I sure as hell want to be sure that it's read, understood and that it's taken at face value: every single follower is appreciated more than they realize. However, be here because you appreciate what I do because I do it well, that I've earned your attention and am deserving of it, and not because I'm a woman or because I write one, because that would be one hell of a disappointment (and quite frankly: an insult) to come to terms with.

[rinhaler]

welllll that's two attempts i have no idea why the new wusyaname chapter doesnt wanna show in the tags but im close to tears so im giving up LMAO it's just not meant to be??? maybe it'll be okay in a few weeks? i rly dunno what the issue is

[essektheylyss]

Oh hey! Do you like stories about wlw and weird, convoluted forms of time travel? Do you like supporting queer folks making cool art? Did River Song rewire your brain as a teenager?

I wrote a short story called "A Practical Study of Time" for Baffling Magazine, a queer speculative fiction mag! It's published on Patreon, if you're interested in becoming a patron of a super neat lit mag—or it'll be on their site when their eleventh issue is published in April!

[kozzax]

The thing about carrying old characters with you for years and years and years is that they don't just carry your current creative spirit. They carry hints of you from when you created them, and from every bit of time you spent working on them. Sometimes they carry hints of the people who have come in and out of your life, or echoes of parts of you that you thought long forgotten. They hold within them the shards of a you that has long ceased to exist, but that you're still connected to through them.

The thing about carrying old characters with you as you grow up is that they grow up too. But they have room in their hearts for every part of you that goes into them, and they'll hold onto them until the day you leave them behind.

The thing about carrying old characters with you as you develop your skills is that you're iterating on them and developing them into who you wanted them to be. Every iteration you go through with them is a love letter to yourself. Every time you draw them is a way to reach out to a you from a time long gone. Every time you write about them is a reminder that you haven't forgotten the yous that became you.

The thing about carrying old characters along with you through everything is that they remember everything you've put into them. You may not remember the bad day that led you to add to their story to relieve yourself, but they do. They do, and they remember how to comfort you. They remember how to offer you love and comfort and safety in the way only art you create can.

The thing about carrying old characters along with you is that they have always been there for you. They will always be there for you. They remember the friends you've loved. They remember the people you've hated. They remember you, and every version of yourself that you put into them. They hold the tiny pieces of you that you left behind, buried in their stories and personalities without even thinking about it.

The thing about carrying old characters along with you is that they love you just as much as you love them. How could they not, when they're the culminations of every experience and comfort that you've poured into them? They love you, because they are made of love.

The thing about carrying old characters with you is that you don't have to leave them behind, and that is beautiful.

[chloecherrysip]

Absolutely nothing can stop Mario now. He's fought his way through the airship, he's found Luigi in the middle of a jailbreak, and he's finally about to reunite with his brother. What could go wrong?

Bowser happens to be nearby, though. And he's just had an epiphany about his new foe's biggest weakness.

(Alternatively: A Hypothetical Version of Mario & Luigi's Reunion in the Mario Movie That Would Cause Me Irreparable Psychic Damage.)

(I decided to clean this up a little and post it on AO3 too! A slightly rougher version is still available here on tumblr, but if you'd prefer this format, here you go!)

[mishy-mashy]

Hi! I noticed you bring up fanfiction every once in a while, so do you have an ao3?

I DO

But the stuff I post here isn't actually written out and posted anywhere else, and my ao3 (posted stories) is pretty bare. Like, I only touch it to read other people's stuff at this point

Everything I do write is OC stuff though, and that's not everyone's jam

The stuff I do post here all comes from my notes for said fic ideas. They're all fleshed out enough that I can write them into proper stories. Like, the whole plot is figured out, I know where to end, character perspectives, all that jazz. I just don't write them out, since I don't have that motivation, and the stories would end up huge

I don't like posting the actual stories either. People have asked for updates on the new chapters I just put down, and I've run into a lot of copy-pasters. Even the few things I have on ao3 is having a mimic somewhere. So I otherwise keep everything to myself, or post little things here

I've been going through my past stuff lately to reorganize. It's fun. Even if they're old (some are over 5 years old), I find little gems that surprise me like these

(Unordinary; Re:Zero; BNHA)

Like- they aren't that bad. That's surprising. How old are these things???