#someone who is a doctor reblog this so I am not a liar

[joehills]

Audible gasp

I don't want folks who receive the HermitCraft TCG Collector's Edition cards this week to open the package and stare at the surprise without breathing indefinitely...

It's not only okay to gasp audibly—in fact, Doctors recommend it!

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

[bxnnxrxd]

Mun and Rules Post!

Hello, my name is Castor and I am transmasc/enby. My pronouns are he/they.

I had a very elaborate fancy blog which you can still access but I run things mostly from mobile now, which is why I felt the need to write this updated information.

This is a semi-selective, independent Doctor Robert Bruce Banner/Hulk blog. I have multiple verses and timelines, some based off MCU, some based off Earth 616, and alternate Earths from the Marvel comics. Also, I have a lot of AUs, and am always open for more. This is the oldest Bruce Banner RP blog on tumblr, that is still consistent.

Mun has over 25 years of RP experience. Mun is neurodivergent. Basic rules apply as does any blog. No god modding, etc. I do not own any rights to these characters and have no connection to Marvel personally.

I hate that I have to add this, but as stated I am neurodivergent. Due to a recent incident of someone on tumblr, I’m adding this to my information. I never bug anyone for threads, I hate when it’s done to me. But I like to say hi and check in on people. Now, if I say anything or do anything that might have offended you, rather than blocking me outright I’d appreciate you being an adult and telling me the issue. If you just block, I’ll never know what exactly happened that maybe I can take into advisement for future behavior and conversations. Recently, I’ve become more afraid to talk to muns, afraid my divergence is bothering people, afraid I’m a terrible person. I went down a bad spiral because of what happened. So please be mindful I am neurodivergent. Let me know if I’m annoying or coming off a certain way, and maybe I can fix it. ^^

This blog will contain many NSFW prompts. I do not put anything under read more. I try to tag nsfw if I remember. There will be no trigger warnings. This blog will contain things like self harm, alcoholism, severe depression, and suicide. As far as smut I will not write any that is not of age. Bruce is pansexual and demisexual.

Shipping: I like to ship chemistry but everyone has their favorites. Mine are in no particular order: Tony Stark/Bruce Banner. James Bucky Barnes/Bruce Banner. Howard Stark/Bruce Banner. Steve Rogers/Bruce Banner. Thor/Bruce Banner. Doctor Strange/Bruce Banner. Emil Blonsky/Bruce Banner. Loki/Bruce Banner. Yondu/Bruce. Betty Ross and Caiera should be a given. These are just off the top of my head, as I welcome Chemistry ships. I will not ship Bruce/Natasha. In my opinion it wasn’t believable and was Joss Whedon’s fan fiction come to life. My Bruce blames Nat for Ragnarok, and he knows she’s been a liar and a manipulative person since day one. You throw your Nat at me in a sexual way, you will be blocked.

I also welcome non ships, like platonic friendships, and even children, adopted children, family although it depends on who.

I do like writing open starters, I’m always reblogging memes, and feel free to attack both my inbox with messages and maybe a few words to just RP and plot. If you end up reblogging a starter and I miss it feel free to let me know! And with that, flood my inbox with goodies!

I also have a Phil Coulson blog @iwatchedyouwhileyouslept , and I have an Israel “Izzy” Hands blog from Our Flag Means Death @izzyeffinhands as well as my new blog, which is a multi-muse blog for Black Sails @fornassau .

*NEW* @talostheuntamed for Talos from Marvel.

[darksides-dutchess]

And now the sides as thing my friends and I have said

Virgil:*sends a long and felt message on how he cares about his friends*

Janus: Are you being held at gunpoint?

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Everyone: *baking a cake*

Remus: Let's write dilf on the cake.

Virgil: WHY?!?!

Remus: cause Patton said to write something you like on your cake.

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Logan: I have never felt more joy since I was in high school and the teacher said that my work was the best among everyone and that was the confidence boost I needed to realise I am the baddest bitch ever.

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Remus: I want a spicy chicken sandwich actually two with no fries and plain water.

Janus: I will strangle you

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Patton: From now on I will now be known as the Frog King bow down to your new ruler and hold fear in your hearts about the power I withhold.

Everyone: ALL HAIL THE FROG KING!!!

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Virgil: WHO THE FUCK MADE ME A FLOWER CROWN IM ALLERGIC TO POLLEN.

Janus: I did.

Virgil: Of course you fucking would.

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Roman: *watching a movie* what is this platonic or romantic? I genuinely can't tell the difference.

Remus: Honestly who cares. We can't let some guy for old England tell us the difference.

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Janus: All in saying is that we should at least fuck our friends once just to understand the feel of it.

Logan: I'm not having sex with you.

Janus: >:(

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Roman: if there is one thing you need to know about me is that I am a sad queer kid that romanticises everything in his life but has never been held in the arms of anyone who genuinely loves me.

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Patton: Is it just me or does the Khan Academy guy actually sounds kinda hot?

Remus: FINALLY SOMEONE FUCKING SAID IT. IM NOT ALONE ANYMORE!!

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Virgil: WOULD YOU STOP PLAYING NOBODY BY MITSKI ON REPEAT!!

Janus,through tears: I've bEeN BiG anD sMalL, AnD bIG aNd SmAll aGAin......

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Logan: It's times like these where I wish you could just shut the fuck up.

Remus: What I just said that doctors can perform brain surgery while the patient is awake.

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Virgil: Remus we aren't friends anymore, you're going in the DNI section of my tumblr bio.

Remus: SHAWTY IS GIVING ME A FREE SHOUT OUT!!

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Janus: Okay patton you had your turn with the kitten now its our turn.

Patton: NO!

Logan: Give her to us Patton.

Patton: If any of you dare to take Luna (the cats name) I will not hesitate to place a lego peice after ever step you take.

Everyone:*slowly backs away*

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Roman: if you ever met a straight guy and he says he does musical theatre, that man it the biggest liar known to our generation and is living in a closet made of glass.

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Virgil: I feel like you were a lesbian in your past life.

Patton: Oh definitely 100% agree.

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Remus: The reason I am so disappointed in myself is that I am a whore living in a virgins body. I have been fucked 78 times in my head but never in reality.

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Logan: I would rather get stabbed 54 times in the chest by a toothpick and pour lemon juice into my eyeballs than to share a bed with you.

Roman, who snores way too loud: Understandable, have a good night, hope you sleep with one eye open.

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Janus: OMG!! I love the look you are going today, the eyes bags from crying yourself to sleep over a boy that doesn't care about really compliments the I didn't get enough attention as a child and now I get overly attached to people way too quickly, you're killing it!!

Virgil: 🖕😐🖕

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Remus: I would eat the communist manifesto.

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Virgil: I'm not saying I wanna die but if I was in a dark alley and someone just stabbed and left me there to die............. I wouldn't be disappointed.

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Comment if you wnat to see more of the weird shit my friends and I say

Reblogs appreciated

[softboywriting]

Ready | Shawn Mendes

Summary: Shawn is the love of your life, and it’s about time you told him. [anxiety talk] [fluff] [friends to lovers] [non-au] [inspired by Joy by Bastille]

Word Count: 1.7k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Shawn has always been your light. He's the one person who can change your mood instantly. Everything about him is warm, inviting, cozy. His aura is so strong with love it's intoxicating. For this you are lucky, because you don't have that sort of presence, at least you don't think so.

It's morning, early judging by the light coming through the kitchen window. You stare at the tile across from you, eyes aching from the night before. Never thought you'd be here, this low, this down. You don't know when you decided to give up, not sure how you ended up on the kitchen floor. But here you are.

Your dog Bumble waddles into the kitchen, his nails tip tapping on the cold tile. He's a chunky little pug, always happy to see you, even happier when you're at his level as you are now. He walks over and plops down in the bend of your waist where your knees are pulled up.

"Hey Bum, what're you doing up so early?" You scratch under his collar and he lolls his tongue out. "You don't ever-" The sound of your phone ringing cuts you off and you look into the living room through the open doorway. Bumble being awake makes sense now. Your phone is still on the charger from last night and it's probably been ringing all morning. There is no doubt in your mind who's calling, because there is only one person who it could be.

You push up off the floor, body protesting as you do so. Tile does not make a great bed. Bumble follows after you as you head to the small living area and grab your phone off the arm of the sofa. Sure enough, two missed calls, both from Shawn.

"How do you always know?" You ask when Shawn answers your redial.

A chuckle. Such a sweet sound. "Because I know what you're like when you have an anxiety attack. You don't answer the phone and you disappear from your social media. Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I'm stiff, but otherwise okay."

"Where'd you end up?"

You glance over to the kitchen and shake your head. "Kitchen floor. I must have laid down with Bumble. I don't really remember."

"That's not good. Have you been to the doctor recently?"

"No. It's been fine lately, I just...I just got overwhelmed last night."

Shawn sighs and you know he doesn't mean to sound disappointed. He knows the struggle of anxiety, he's been there and back. You have the same doctor as him and for good reason, she's the best and Shawn recommended her to you. "Can I come over?"

"You're home?"

"Yes. Can I?"

"Please."

"I'll be there in ten minutes. Coffee?"

"Decaf." You stand and wander into the kitchen where Bumble is sitting by his food bowl. "Can you get a treat for Bum? I'm out."

"Absolutely. I'll be there soon."

"Thank you, Shawn."

"Always."

______________________

Opening the door to your apartment and seeing Shawn is a relief like no other. The rush of seeing someone you love is unmatchable. He's smiling, those gorgeous perfect teeth showing themselves to the world behind his way too pink lips. His little scar and dimples are beautiful, highlighted by the bright hall light. Gods above he is truly the most perfectly imperfect man you've laid eyes on. You're so lucky to have him in your life.  

"I mean this in the nicest way but, you look like hell." Shawn says softly, handing you a red paper cup of coffee. "You should have called me."

"I couldn't. You know how it is."

"I know." He tucks your hair back and cups your cheek. "I remember how it felt, hopeless, exhausting. I'm here now okay?"

You wrap your arms around him, careful with the cup in your hand and he holds your head to his chest. "I didn't even know you were in town. You've been in LA so much I was sure you were gone."

"I've been recording at Teddy's place. We've been doing so much it's crazy. The album is coming along so quickly, I decided to step away, come home and slow down a little."

You take a deep breath and relax into him, losing yourself in the familiar scent. He's like home. Warm, spicy, just Shawn. That's all there is to it. He just smells like him, like he always has. "Do you have plans while you're home?"

"Nope, nothing yet."

"No plans with your parents or um...the girl?"

Shawn pulls back and looks down at you. He tilts your head up and you stare at him. "What girl?"

"The one you were seeing. The one in LA? She didn't come back with you?"

"There is no girl." He chuckles softly. "What tabloids are you reading?"

"But you were seen out with someone, I saw pictures of you at a bar with Niall and some girl."

Shawn shakes his head. "Oh, you mean Brit? She's one of the ladies I work with in LA. A friend of Teddy's. We were not going out together, no, she's uh not interested in me."

"Oh but you're interested in her?"

"I mean she's cute and I might have been, until I found out she's got a girlfriend." Shawn smiles sweetly. "You're jealous."

You pull away, gripping your cup with both hands as you cross the living room toward the kitchen. "I am not."

"Liar." He says, following after you and cutting you off just as you walk through the archway to the kitchen. "You are, or you wouldn't have mentioned her."

"I was curious."

"Curious, jealous, same thing."

"Is not."

Shawn let's out a heavy sigh and sets his cup on the small dining table. "Was this about me?"

"What?"

"This," he gestures to you as a whole. "The anxiety attack. Was it about me? Because you knew I was in LA. You thought I was seeing someone. You asked about her as soon as I get here. It seems a little coincidental that it would be unrelated."

You swallow hard and bite the inside of your cheek. Fuck him. Fuck him for seeing right through you. You want to tell him he's wrong, that it was nothing, that it was just an anxiety attack from the stress of work and life. You want to shout at him, angry because he's calling you out. Tears sting your eyes, threatening to spill over and then they do.

"Hey," Shawn says quietly, taking the cup from your hands as they begin to shake. "Talk to me."

"I can't." You whimper, voice broken as you fight back tears.

"Am I wrong about my speculation?"

You shake your head.

"You know that you and I can be together. You know you hold the power to change this from a friendship to a relationship, I gave you that decision ages ago."

"But-"

"No buts." Shawn wipes your cheeks with his thumbs as he cup your face. "Are you ready to do this?"

"I don't know."

"What's your hesitations?"

"Distance. Fans." You sniff and he nods for you to go on. "Insecurity."

"What makes you insecure?"

"I'm not...like...y'know."

"No, I don't know." Shawn walks you back into the living room and pulls you down on to the couch with him. "Tell me."

"I'm not good enough. I'm not like a model or pretty or talented like Hailee or Taylor. I'm just...I'm me."

"You think I want them?" He slides his hand over yours, lifting it and putting your palms together. "I want a woman who knows me. Whose hand has always fit in mine. Someone who understands what it's like when I'm down and who makes me laugh without even trying." He slides his fingers over so he can curl them between yours. "I want the one who makes me feel like I'm home every time I hear her voice, and makes me think about her every time I see something she likes."

"Shawn."

"I'm not done." He brings your joined hands up to his lips and kisses your knuckles. "I want the one who says I love you by putting socks on my feet before bed when I stay the night because she knows they'll get cold. The one who makes my favorite pancakes whenever she knows I'm going to come home." He smiles to himself and shakes his head. "The one who reminds me of who I am and where I came from and grounds me faster than anything in the world when I'm stressed and spinning out of control. I want you. I've always wanted you."

You stare at him, eyes fixed on his. It's no secret that he's in love with you. It never has been, but you've never believed it. You thought one day he would find someone better, someone without occasional anxiety problems, someone beautiful and smart and funny. You never thought that it would be you, that he would actually mean the words he said time and time again. He knows this. It's why he gave you the power to decide what you want from him. Yet here he is, reading you like a book, knowing your thoughts as if they were his own. It's time you decide what to do.

"I know I've said it before, time and time again, but I'm saying it again. I love you, I always have and I always will."

You take a deep breath and look away. This is the part where you usually stay quiet. When you choke down the words he needs to hear. The words that will change everything. You clench your jaw, tears coming once more and you let out a soft sob. Say it. You have to. It's time. It's time to make him yours.

"I love you too." You say in nothing more than a broken whisper, eyes darting across his chest, looking everywhere but his face.

"Louder."

"I love you." You lift your head and stare him dead in the eye. He's crying. Your heart aches, hands shaking. "I love you Shawn. I always have."

"It's about time." He grins and cradles your face, leaning in to kiss you. "This is the beginning then?"

"Yes. Finally." You smile and he just smiles back, head against yours. "I took my time I suppose."

"You did." He kisses you softly. "But you're worth it."

End.

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Thank you so much for reading. Please reblog if you enjoyed, want to save it, or just b/c you read it. Thank you again! -A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

[girlmounter]

URGENT QUESTION TO ALL MY FOLLOWERS, I NEED YOUR FEEBACK!

Okay so here's the situation. I am asking you all to please please read this through and like, maybe tell me if I made the right decision... because I feel terrible about this. I would love it if someone told me if this is correct or wrong and I should've done something else. I'm not a popular blog, so whoever this post might reach (which is not going to be a lot of people) please please take some time out to read this through. I know it's a really long post, but I really really need your opinion on this. If you don't have the time right now, maybe just reblog it and save it for later. It would also help this post reach more people. Also please check the tags for the trigger warnings.

I have been going to a therapist for about 5 months now. My mom, as you probably know by now, is narcissistic and my dad enables her, along with my mom's parents who we live with. I have no siblings, and I just turned 17. Since we live in Asia, all you desi people know how hard society is on us when we go against our parents, who are supposed to be godly figures.

So all along, my therapist, (for confidentiality's sake we'll call him Sam, 21), has been bent on making me talk to them. I dont know why. I've tried explaining so many times that talking to my mom is not an option because 1) NARCISSISTIC PEOPLE DON'T EVER CHANGE and 2) my mom WILL use all my words against me and twist them into whatever she wants and later bring them up to bring me down. You guys with narcissistic parents know this shit too well.

It's not like I haven't ever even tried talking to them, I have! I've done it so many times, with a calm tone, in the most diplomatic way possible. There were times I tried to get the point across by crying and being desperate too. There were also times where I thought anger might work out.

It never did. It doesn't. It won't, because she is not looking for solutions or for mending the bond between us. All she wants is to infantilize me and keep me under her control forever. Mom and dad both want this. They don't ever want to let me out of their sights. They don't let me out of their sights.

A very long story short, I am supervised 24/7, I don't have much of a phone, I don't have friends, I don't have any family members who would support me, I don't have much of a family either tbh. I am monitored like crazy, gaslighted every single day, lied to, manipulated like hell, and babied to the point where it's just narcissistic infantilization and not concern anymore. To them, I'm a baby when it suits them, and I'm an adult when it suits them better that way. She doesn't care about what I think because apparently I'm a liar and to all those people out there who know the smear campaigning and the flying monkeys and the triangulation....yeah. All of that happens on a regular basis. I know I'm not providing any concrete proof and situations but please believe me. Please believe me. My memory is so shot I can't remember anything and i know it doesn't work out in my favor but please please believe me I'm telling the truth...

I have made three suicide attempts, I used to cut and was very badly addicted to it, and now I don't cut, but yeah I'll be sharing the reason in a little bit. Please hold on, this means a huge deal to me. Please don't scroll past this.

So Sam never really even had a smidge of doubt that my mom might be narcissistic, and I wasn't given the benefit of doubt either. After months of research when I myself figured that it might be narcissism, I told him and he went along with it. He does believe me now. But somehow I don't feel very understood. I dont feel better after I talk to him. I feel like my problems are trivial and that I'm just not working hard enough. I feel misunderstood and I never feel satisfied. I asked him for tips to deal with crushing loneliness and panic attacks and stuff like that, but I never receive real answers. When I asked for help with my suicidal thoughts, he just said that it's never an option and that's it. That's the only answer I got. When I asked for help with cutting, the only answer I got was that if I even tried to cut again, I'd lose him.

Like. Is that really how therapy is supposed to work?

Half of the time we just while time away, talking as if we're friends and I mean, it's a paid session. We're not very financially well off right now, what with the pandemic and everything, and we're paying him 2000 INR a week. It's a lot for us because we ain't exactly rich. That's like 10,000 INR a month.

I try to talk, I'm told that I don't stop talking and don't let him speak. When I don't speak, I'm not speaking enough. I dont feel comfortable anymore in a way that I think I should be with a therapist. I have recieved more helpful advice from actual PhD psychologists who are making videos on dealing with narcissism on YouTube. I feel more understood by them than I ever have with him. So many times I have left the session crying and hours later I'd still be stifling tears. So many times I don't feel heard and I feel like if I told him something he'd be angry. Sometimes he snaps and is like way too straightforward and it just doesn't do well with me. He doesn't support a lot of stuff that I support, like anti body shaming, especially for overweight people and stuff like LGBTQIA+ too, really. I'm mocked in an underhand way if I express that I support stuff that he doesn't really like. It's not straightforward but... I can't shake the feeling.

I do sometimes look forward to the sessions, if only because I'll have someone to talk to...but that's pretty much it. I'm not getting anything out of this. He claims that no one will understand me the way he does, and he keeps comparing my life to his, which I don't like. He says that in a way he and I both very similar and he relates to me and then proceeds to tell me about events in his life. He says that I'm his favorite client and now a good friend too, but I feel like that's not how it should be. And I do make an effort to listen to him tell me stuff about his life but...shouldn't it be the other way round?

Now I'm not saying that he is a bad person. I have loads of my own issues too; severe depression, crippling anxiety, overthinking every freaking thing, I'm like 100% sure I have complex PTSD from this childhood trauma, constant pain everywhere, crazy headaches, flashbacks, nightmares, hallucinations sometimes, and major emotion repression. I'm dealing with a million and one things right now and yes that might be causing me to feel worse about this situation than I should. I admit that I'm not exactly thinking about this in a diplomatic way...but somehow it doesn't feel right, and hence this really long post.

If you're still here, thank you so much. Your reading this is doing something that means a lot to me. Truly.

He exercises a lot, and he gave me a whole schedule to follow with the meals I should eat and the exercise I should do and somehow I never feel like I'm doing enough. If I miss out I can't tell him because he always reprimands me for messing up. I dont feel comfortable about opening up and then he forces me to do that and then when I do I don't feel better.

Lately, we'd been talking about how I need to tell my parents to their face what I feel is wrong with their actions, and how without that happening there's no point to our sessions anymore. Straight up went that if I don't talk to them on this Sunday, then we're not going to have sessions anymore.

I tried explaining to him many times how my mom will never change, how I don't want to enrage them further, how I don't want to give her more information on my life that she can use against me again...but no use.

He insisted over and over again on how she has no idea what she's doing to me, and if we just talked it out, my whole situation will be fine. This is just a huge misunderstanding.

I tried so hard to make him understand that that's not how it works for her, she doesn't want to resolve things and she'll just jump at the first chance she gets to use all my information against me, but no. I tried telling him that I have talked to her before and that I also used to think that if I just told her what they were doing wrong, then they would understand and mend their ways, I mean it took me YEARS to convince myself that it was never gonna happen! I tried it so many times and everytime I fell for this trap and everytime I regretted it but he doesn't get that! At all! That they're never gonna change!

Instead of helping me get over them, instead of telling me how to move on, instead of helping me grieve over my entire childhood... he was forcing me to talk things out with them, because if I didn't tell them I would be keeping it inside me and letting that fester would be bad.

I agree that it's not healthy for me to keep things to myself, which is why I talked to him right? And the things which are troubling me cannot be resolved with them because they refuse to change their ways!

The only thing that would come out of that family discussion is me at a disadvantage and them at an advantage by having all the latest scoop on my life and then have my mom (who is a doctor who has also done a course on CBT) psychoanalyse me even more than she does now. I'd be tailed harder. It will get worse and I know it. I've seen it and I promised myself that I would never make the same mistake of opening up to them honestly ever again. And here Sam wanted me to that very thing.

And I agreed initially, I tried convincing myself that maybe it'll work out and after all, Sam will be defending me and everything (even though he did say he would support them if he found them correct) but I didn't feel good about it. I remembered that a therapist is supposed to make you feel more at ease and let you take your own time to process through things and never force a client to do something if they had doubts about it.

And so I texted him today, and I refused. He said we won't have any more sessions, but I said it's fine. Because I don't want to go to him anymore anyway. I think I would rather have no one to talk to, than have someone belittle my experiences and just overall make me feel worse than I did when I first entered the session.

There's more stuff that was related to this, and if you guys want to know something before making your judgement of this situation, please please please ask me, message me, but please just have a bird's eye view on this whole thing and tell me if I made the right decision...please.

I would really appreciate some feedback right now.

Thank you so,so much for sticking with me till the end of this post. It means the world to me, honestly. I couldn't thank you more.

[ltbroccoli]

Warning: Tony/brashir is a bully.

EDIT: Tony has had the callout doc taken down twice. Please see the post linked here to access a new version of it.

Anyone who knows me knows that I despise getting myself involved in drama. However, there are times when it's necessary, and one such time is to defend a friend. This post is rather long, but I ask you to please read it in its entirety. This is a summary of a full length callout, which you can read here.

Some of you may have seen the post by Tony (brashir) calling out Serena (empathicstars) -- if you haven't, I'll link to it here. It's pretty shocking, and horrifying to read. There's just one problem: none of it is true.

Tony had a bad breakup with his fiance, Ray, back in August of 2019 (some of you may remember him as seamworn). Tony claims that Ray was abusive towards him. This is a lie. Ray has made mistakes, certainly, and their relationship was not a healthy one. But all of Tony's claims of abuse simply don't line up, and most of the evidence points to Tony as the abusive one. The same is true for Tony's other claims -- that Ray is racist, that he fakes his triggers, that he's stolen money, that he forces survivors to write r*pe with him, etc. -- all are untrue.

After their breakup, Serena chose to remain friends with both Tony and Ray. She was extremely upfront about this decision, and Tony told her repeatedly, for months, that this was fine. He did try to manipulate her into dropping Ray, but she never did so, as Ray had actually apologized for his actions and was working hard to become the best person he could be away from Tony's influence.

In regards to Tony's claim that Serena is best friends with a racist white person: this is referring to me. About a year and a half ago, someone in the Doctor Who RPC added the character Krasko, who is canonically a racially motivated mass murder, to their multimuse. Tony and others in the RPC burst into action, calling this person out and harassing them over their choice of muse. I am someone who is very open about separation of IC and OOC -- it's featured prominently in my rules that I do not believe writing something is the same as supporting it -- and felt very uncomfortable watching this go down.

I did not address the situation directly, but I did reblog a rather targeted PSA post. Ray (still together with Tony at the time) messaged me to confront me about it. I then blocked him at his request, and took the chance to cut off Tony and several others in the RPC that I had been growing more and more uncomfortable with. In hindsight, I was not as open to conversation as I could have been, and I don't think I would defend that person's writing today, not unless I actually knew them and could personally vouch for the respectfulness of their portrayal. However, I would still defend them from harassment, as that is never an appropriate response under any circumstances.

Serena and I did discuss this at the time, and she made it clear that she did not agree with my stance. However, we still remained friends. Serena was again upfront about this, and no one ever told her to drop me. The claim that Serena is ignoring BIPOC voices is untrue. The BIPOC voices he's referring to are only him and his friends, and those voices have lied to her face. Serena was told clearly, directly, and repeatedly that it was okay to be friends with Ray, that it was okay to be friends with me. Then a few months ago, Tony dug up the incident I had with Ray so he could turn on a dime and attack Serena for it, triggering her and driving her out of their friend group for good.

Additionally, since this has happened, Serena has been directly harassed and most recently doxxed. A friend still in Tony's server gave Joel (Serena's husband) a warning that Serena's phone number had been shared in the group, and that they were signing her up for spam. Since then, Serena has received various Trump and Republican propaganda texts, as well as explicit imagery and videos. The group has also evaded blocks to harass her on Tumblr. Ray has been dealing with similar forms of harassment for over a year now, and I've even had a small taste of it myself when one of Tony's group made an alt Discord account in an effort to sneak into one of my servers.

At this point, I frankly don't care what Serena or Ray supposedly did or did not do. This behavior is unacceptable. This behavior is illegal. Both Serena and Ray have tried to apologize, tried to ignore everything and move on, but Tony keeps dragging the same issues up, over and over, refusing to let anyone let it go.

And this is not motivated by racism, whatever Tony claims. If racism were the root of the problem, I would be the target, not Serena. Yet I have received almost nothing about this, while Serena has been doxxed and harassed. The root of the problem is that Serena did not cut Ray off like Tony wanted, and he lost his control over her. He's masked his anger as social justice to rally his friend group against her.

I cannot stress the following statement enough: Tony is a bully. He is a liar, an abuser, a manipulator, and so much more. This has reached the point where legal action is being seriously considered, and that is not a decision any of us have made lightly. We have also been reporting this to Discord and to Tumblr, in hopes that something will force this to come to an end; this process is ongoing.

Over the past several months, I have been working on a callout to bring all of this to light, in the hopes that others will see how bad the situation has been and hopefully take measures to protect themselves from being targeted in the way that we have. That document is now complete, and it's linked here. It's quite long, but it debunks Tony's many false claims and provides evidence for everything I've stated above. It also namedrops everyone in Tony's friend group that has been directly involved in his harassment and doxxing, for awareness.

If you feel that Serena, Ray, or I have done something unforgivable -- I understand. If you feel you must cut us off, we will miss you, but we will not fight you on it. But please, please do not trust Tony, and be extremely wary if you choose to keep him in your life.

And if you feel so inclined, please reblog this post so that others can see Tony and his friends for the bullies that they truly are. If you have any questions or concerns, please contact me or Joel directly and off-anon (he can be reached on @solitaryskies or @themekets). Serena has requested not to be contacted about this, for her own mental health; please respect this.

[flutteringphalanges]

                                  Caught in a Riptide

Summary: After the infamous Count Dracula is discovered and taken into custody by the Jonathan Harker Foundation, former nun and now guardian to her young niece, Zoe, Agatha Van Helsing is tasked with keeping tabs on the vampire after a mishap leads to his release into modern day society. Can Agatha remain levelheaded, or will fate turn her onto a new path?

Pairing: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rated: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Alright, my dear readers, as promised! Thank you so much for your support as usual! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated whether it be comments/kudos/reblogs/etc... I adore hearing your thoughts! Anyway, onward to chapter four!

                                             Chapter Four

Hawkins and Wentworth Law Firm. Established in the late 1800's, representing Count Dracula since September 12, 1896. A partnership that led to the purchase of some property for the vampire along with an arrangement for his resettlement. The vampire had thought of everything. For well over a century, the man had continuous tricks up his sleeve and today the Foundation had served as his willing assistant. That damn tablet. Whoever gave it to him in the first place should be fired on the spot.

"So you see, by holding him here, you are encroaching on Count Dracula's rights."

Frank Renfield was a rather scrawny man. Nervous, the epitome of someone walking on eggshells. His outfit was rather washed out, almost a little too baggy to fit his body properly. Agatha lost count of how many times he pushed his glasses back up to the brim of his nose. He certainly wasn't the ideal lawyer she would've pictured, but she reluctantly gave him credit for how prepared he was.

"He's a murderer!" She tried to argue, gesturing at Dracula who merely grinned in response. "You do realize what he is?!"

"Oh yes, of course!" Frank nodded vigorously, clearing his throat. "But my point stands. He is being held against his will and if he isn't released by tonight, my client is willing to take legal actions. And," the lawyer gave an awkward smile. "I'm not sure if all of England is ready to learn that a vampire is among the population."

"In other words, we're supposed to set him free and just trust that his actions remain civil?" Bloxham countered, folding her arms. "I think not."

"Actually, we did speak on that over Skype." The attorney responded looking over to the vampire as he spoke. "Based on Dracula's prior cases, there is a deal we are willing to make with you. A compromise if you will."

"What makes you think you have the upper hand in deciding this?!" The scientist frowned, eyes fixated on Frank's. "Why do you get to make the decisions?"

"No matter how you look at it, Dr. Bloxham, Count Dracula will be freed tonight." Renfield said firmly, pushing his glasses up again. "We thought it only fair to make some sort of offer to appease the Foundation. Are you interested in listening?" Neither of the women interjected so he continued. "Count Dracula will be freed but he is more than happy to be occasionally checked in on. Think of it as a parole of sorts."

"He's willing for someone to keep tabs on him? Agatha questioned, finally reentering into the conversation. "What's the catch?"

"There is no catch, I assure you," the lawyer explained. "Well...it's interesting actually." His nervous chuckle didn't settle well with the former nun. "He'll agree to these terms IF you are the one to supervise him."

It only happened every so often, but Agatha Van Helsing found herself at a loss for words. She stared dumbfounded at the lawyer who sheepishly smiled through thin lips. There was no arguing. No chance of being heard. Before she could even utter a single word in, Bloxham answered for her.

"Agatha would be more than happy to accept those terms."

Bloxham stared at her as if almost daring her to say otherwise. Frank beamed, opening up his briefcase. "Brilliant!" He expressed, looking from one woman to the other. "Now that we are all on the same track, if we could just fill out some documents. Just some formalities really. You know, just because this is a legal case and we like to keep records on file."

As the scientist led the lawyer away, Agatha finally turned to meet Dracula's gaze. He was smirking at her, obviously delighted by it all. A part of her wanted to race over and open the ceiling, but somehow she refrained despite how marvelous it sounded. He had played her like a fiddle and he knew it. Oh if she could just stake him in the heart...what a satisfying thought.

"I'd like to think of this as a beautiful start to our friendship," Dracula commented. "I had a feeling the Harker Foundation would be breathing down my back because of this, but what better way to soothe this fine institution's concerns than to allow you to be my figurative probation officer?"

"Just because you like to assume that you're very clever doesn't mean you are all that you give yourself credit for." Agatha countered, folding her arms over her chest. "I'm not playing into your game, Count Dracula."

"Oh, but I think that you already are." And his low tone sent a shiver up her spine. "I know your kind, Agatha Van Helsing. And I may not know you fully yet, but I will. I have my ways. And when I do…" His smirk broadened. "I expect we'll be sharing quite the exhilarating experience."

"Go to Hell." It was the best insult that came into her mind at the time.

"My chariot is a two seater," the Count replied. "I'll make sure to keep a spot open for you."

                                                        XXX

"Eugene says his big brother said that if you make a face long enough, it'll get stuck like that!" Zoe informed her aunt as she kicked her legs, sending her higher on the swing set. "Why do you look so grumpy?"

Agatha looked up from the book she was attempting to read on the bench. After picking Zoe up from school, she took the little girl to the park. At least there maybe she could clear her head. Setting the novel down in her lap, she looked towards the orange horizon. The sun was beginning to set. Only a few hours now.

"First, Eugene's brother is wrong. Faces don't get stuck," she stated. "And I'm not grumpy, I just had a hard day at work. I'm a little tired, that's all."

"Oh." And Zoe fell silent for a moment, still pumping her legs hard. She was flying so high, Agatha was beginning to grow concern about the chains breaking. "Was Dracula there? Did you talk to him?" The woman visibly stiffened at the name but the girl didn't seem to notice. "I told my friends I met a real vampire, but they didn't believe me. Evan said I was a liar. But I'm not lying, am I?"

Thank God Zoe was only seven with a wild imagination. No one took kids really seriously at that age. Still, perhaps it wasn't good for her to mention him. Quite frankly, she didn't even want to hear his name right now. Grabbing her book, she stood up. It was getting late anyway.

"Let's not talk about him anymore, Zoe." Agatha replied. "How about we finish up here and get some ice cream, hm? I'm in the mood for some." It wasn't exactly the truth, but she knew how to quickly change her niece's train of thought. "What do you say?"

"Two scoops?!" The girl asked with excitement, leaping off the swing.

"One, and you can get it with sprinkles." Agatha said, reaching to take a hold of the little girl's hand. "I think both need it after today." Though a tall glass of something alcohol sounded more appealing. "Let's go."

It wasn't a long drive to the parlor and after getting their cones, they were back on the road. Through the rear view mirror, Agatha watched in dismay as vanilla ice cream dribbled down Zoe's coated mouth onto her shirt and seat belt. Perhaps she should've grabbed a handful of napkins when she had the chance.

"Can we watch a movie tonight?" The little girl asked in between licks. "I promise I'll go to bed right afterwards!"

Well, considering she was already hyped up on sugar, getting her to sleep now would be near impossible. Agatha looked through the mirror again and towards the sky. Nearly dark. His freedom was drawing nearer. Trying not to think about it, she gave into Zoe's demand.

"We can watch a movie," she agreed. "But then you have to go to sleep without arguing."

"Yes, ma'am!" Zoe exclaimed, giving her aunt a salute. "I promise!"

Agatha made a point of locking the door as she and a very sticky Zoe entered the house. As her niece went to wash up, the former nun retrieved her phone from her purse. She hadn't exactly discussed what had happened with Jack. When their lunch was interrupted earlier, Bloxham seemed more concerned with her than the doctor. Dialing his number, she held the device to her ear. It immediately went to voicemail. Frowning, she set it down. She'd try again later when Zoe was asleep.

"All clean!" The little girl called out causing Agatha to snap back into reality. "And in my jammies! C'mon, Aunt Aggie, let's watch something…" She seemed to think about it. "How about something spooky?!"

"How about something that doesn't give you nightmares?" Her aunt chuckled, moving over to sit beside the little girl. "How about one of those princess movies you like?"

"Princesses are boring." Zoe exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

"But you love princesses," Agatha said with a small frown. "You wanted one for your birthday this year."

"I like vampires now." The young girl proclaimed.

Her aunt was about to interject when the sound of her doorbell going off stopped her. Furrowing her brow, Agatha rose from the couch and made her way towards the door. Was it Jack? An odd hour to be making a house call. As she turned the knob to open it, she immediately regretted her decision. For there, standing nonchalantly in front of her was none other than the Devil himself. Count Dracula.

Speechless. Completely, utterly dumbfounded. She must've looked ridiculous, standing there gawking at the man she'd seen locked up only hours before. Agatha's mouth was so dry that even if she wanted to say something, she couldn't. Silence.

"Well? You know how this works, don't you?" The moonlight glinted off of Dracula's smile as he stood at Agatha's doorstep patiently. "Are you going to invite me in?"

So many questions. An entire novel's worth. She began to rifle through them, trying to decide which of the several were the most important to bring up first. Agatha blocked the doorway, her eyes narrowing as she stared daggers at the vampire.

"How the Hell did you find my house?!" It seemed like a logical inquiry all things considered.

"Googled it." He shrugged, looking as if he was very proud of himself. "You'd be surprised by the lack of Van Helsings in the area. Oh." He held up one finger before shoving a hand into his pocket. "And this helped too." It was Jack's phone.

"You..." Agatha stumbled, struggling between insulting or going off completely. "You stole Jack's phone and then decided it was okay to stalk me to my home?!" "I didn't stalk you." The vampire corrected. "I merely followed your address." He inhaled, still seeming unfazed by Agatha's aggravation. "Are you going to let me in?" "I..." She began before the sound of small feet came bounding in her direction. Zoe. Christ.

"Aunt Aggie!" The girl chirped. "You gotta put a movie in! You're..." Her blue eyes widen at the sight of Dracula. "Mr. Dracula!"

"Zoe, go to your room." Agatha said coolly, trying to block the little girl's view. "Dracula was just leaving-"

"Wanna come in and watch the movie with us?!"

Agatha was unsure whether to face palm, cry out in frustration, or just go dig a hole and bury herself in it as Dracula grinned widely and stepped into her home. All thanks to Zoe's innocent invitation inside. How thoughtful.

"Thank you for the generous offer, Zoe." Dracula said kneeling down to the girl's eye level. "But I'm here to actually talk to your Aunt Aggie."

Agatha swept in front of the two glowering at the vampire as he straightened up. Zoe peered from behind her aunt, looking curiously at the towering Count. His expression, still friendly, was no longer focused on her, but now met her aunt's gaze.

"Get out," Agatha growled. "I rescind your invitation."

"Ah, as much as I'm sure you'd like that, it doesn't work that way." His smile turned into a smirk as he leaned against the wall. "You see, it was dear Zoe who invited me in. Not you. And while this is your house, she lives here too. So unless your niece wants me to leave, I think I'll stay for a bit." His eyes flickered down to the little girl again. "Can I stay, Zoe?"

"Zoe," Agatha said through her teeth. "Tell him to leave. Now."

"How about a little incentive. Say...five pounds?" Dracula whipped the money from his pocket and dangled it in front of her like a dog. "It's yours if I can stay."

The little girl smiled and, without a word, snatched the money and hurried off to put it in her piggy bank. Dracula grinned, delighted by his accomplishment as he turned back to face an enraged Agatha. What a cheat. The woman's arms folded tightly over her chest as she watched with fury as he made his way over to the kitchen table.

"You're a real prick." She hissed as he sat down. "You have no right to even talk to her-or bribe her for that matter! She's seven!"

"She's smart," Dracula sighed contentedly, leaning back. "Won't you join me? Take a seat, Agatha, I merely came here to talk." He laced his fingers together, hands resting on the table. "We've both had quite a day today, haven't we?"

Agatha didn't sit down. Instead, she just stared at him. Hard. As if maybe, if she concentrated hard enough, he'd just poof away. Or explode. That would've been better. He, of course, waited patiently for her reply and soon the former nun realized that, unless she addressed him, he wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

"Why are you here?" It was a repetitive question and she knew it.

"To talk," he replied. "You practically stormed out the moment my dear lawyer and that boss of yours discussed everything over with you. You can be quite difficult, I'm learning. But we can work on that," he smiled. "Could I trouble you for a piece of paper and a pen?"

"Why?" Agatha asked curtly.

"So I can write down my address for you," the Count rolled his eyes. "Goodness, Agatha, for a Van Helsing, I thought you would be more dedicated in wanting to locate me. Do you know how hard your grandfather tried? I am literally giving you directions to my home. You should be more appreciative."

Offering his address. Such a cordial act. What his motive was behind it, she wasn't sure. But Agatha remembered Bloxham's request-or rather, mandatory instructions, and she begrudgingly got what he asked for. Tossing them roughly onto the table, the former nun watched as he scribbled his information down in a surprising elegant font.

"I included my number as well." Dracula exclaimed, holding the paper out to her. "Go on, take it. I don't bite." And there was a glint of mischievousness in his eyes as he spoke the last bit. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of copying down your own cell number from your friend's phone." With that, he neatly slid Jack's device across the table. "Apologize to him, will you? I'm sure he's frantically looking for it."

Agatha immediately snatched it up and shoved it into her pocket. Hopefully he hadn't tampered with it to the point of it being useless. As for the paper, she hesitantly took it, eyes studying the words scrawled across. Almost instantly she recognized the street. Even the name of the complex. Nostrils flared, she gazed up at the Count wide eyed.

"There must be some mistake." She snapped, looking from him back down to the paper. "This is only a few blocks from where I live!"

"It seemed only appropriate seeing as you are supposed to be keeping an eye on me." Dracula said in a hair tearingly calm voice. "It was an added bonus that it sits at the perfect location. How coincidences can be rather humorous." He continued to smile, the same look that had yet to leave his face. "You should come by some time. Perhaps for dinner?"

If she was to kill him now, right on the spot, would anyone really mind? Jack certainly wouldn't tell. Bloxham might be rather annoyed, but all things considered, she could kiss Agatha's ass. Then there was his lawyer-Frank. She could figure something out. But then deep down, way deep down at this point, the Van Helsing side of her wanted to learn more. Desired to know more. And by destroying the vampire where he currently stood would take away from that.

"I prefer not to partake in the slaughtering of innocent human life." The woman replied coldly. "And I intend to make sure you do the same." For a brief moment, the amusement faltered from Dracula's face. "You're in the modern world, Count Dracula. Drinking people dry is frowned upon by society. I assure you, whatever it takes, your last victim will have been in 1897. I swear upon my great, great grandfather's name."

"He's dead," the vampire said with a cocked eyebrow. "I believe you are supposed to swear on the live's of the living…say that darling Zoe of yours?"

He struck a major pressure point and Dracula very well knew it. Agatha's gaze darkened and she leaned dangerous close to his face. If he wanted, the Count could've easily snapped her neck within a second. Instead, he merely eyed her with curiosity.

"If you ever lay one of your clawed fingers on a single hair on her head, I will destroy you where you stand." Agatha hissed with such ferocity even she was a little taken aback. "Don't threaten my child."

"I have no intention to," Dracula said, holding up a hand. "But your aggressive protectiveness is a rather charming quality if I do say so myself."

"As charming as a crucifix burned into your bare flesh," she shot back.

"Kinky," Dracula chuckled. "My, you are quite an anomaly, Agatha Van Helsing."

"What's kinky?"

Both adults turned to see Zoe standing there eyeing them with great interest. Her head was tilted ever so slightly and in her arms she hugged one of her stuffed animals. Jesus Christ, not again. He'd been awake for a day. ONE day. And he already was corrupting her niece's mind with such vulgar language.

"Nothing." She said, eyes locked on Dracula's as she spoke. "And I don't want to hear you repeating it."

"Oh, a bad word." Zoe nodded thoughtfully. "Are we going to watch a movie now?"

"Actually," Dracula began as he stood up. "I suppose I should be leaving now. It's getting rather late-or, I should say, becoming too close to early for my comfort." He strode towards the door as Agatha remained at the table, Zoe by her side. "I'll be seeing you soon, Agatha." He grinned, his eyes flickering down to the little girl. "And thank you for inviting me in, Zoe. I much appreciated that."

Agatha said nothing as the vampire opened the door and slipped outside. After she was sure he was gone, she hurried over and locked the dead bolt. Running a hand through her hair, she let out a long, hard exhale. Zoe walked over to her, an ever present happy expression on her young face.

"I like him!" She stated cheerfully.

That only made one of them.

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Falling for the Holidays Ch. 28

Title: Falling for the Holidays Ch. 28

Pairing: Dean x Reader AU

Word Count: 1629

Series Summary: With October ending and the holidays underway, that only meant one thing for Dean Winchester. It meant returning to his childhood home and spending time with his family. It meant listening to his parents, especially his mom, ramble on and on about when he was going to find himself a nice girl, bring her home for the holidays, and then eventually get married and have children.  However, Dean wasn’t ready for that sort of commitment, so in order to get his family off his back, he comes up with an elaborate scheme! But like the saying goes, “sometimes lies become truths.”

Warnings: Smidge of angst (like it’s barely there), and Fluff!

A/N: Holy smokes, I am so sorry it’s taken me five-ever to get the new chapter out! Please forgive me and please enjoy the chapter!! Happy Reading!! xx

The next day, you slowly swam to consciousness as Dean’s scent swarmed around you. There was no hint of Clorox or rubbing alcohol, just Dean entirely. It provided a type of calmness and safety that you’d never felt before other than when around the green-eyed man. You reached over to his side, needy for some physical contact, but instead was greeted with cold empty sheets. Groaning, you lazily pushed yourself up into a seated position, bleary eyes scanning the room. Seconds later, with clear vision, you noticed that everything looked the same as always, nothing out of the ordinary.

Getting up from bed, you shuffled your way to the bathroom, locking the door behind you and emptying your bladder, then brushing your teeth, followed by twirling your hair into a sloppy bun atop your head, disregarding brushing your sleep-tangled locks. As you placed the hair tie in place, your eyes caught glimpse of the beige bandage on your forehead. At that moment, everything that happened came flooding back to the forefront of your mind.

It wasn’t a dream!

Overcome with panic, you rushed out of the bathroom and into the hallway, spinning on your heels as you took in your surrounding. Your eyes widened once you realized that you weren’t at the hospital. You were back at the Winchester home! Why? How? Dean?!

From where you stood in the hallway, just outside of Dean’s childhood bedroom, you could see the blinking red numbers of his old alarm clock. It was a little past noon and your sanity could barely keep up with what was going on. This was definitely not dream! If it were, you wouldn’t have the bandage on your head. Or maybe it was, and you got the injury while you fainted… or something?

Without a care of what you looked like, drowning in one of Dean’s flannel shirt and short sleeping shorts that hid beneath your top, you dashed down stairs, preparing to brace yourself for whatever you were going to be greeted with.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, everything just kind of hit you all at once, as if your brain was finally able to function properly. The smell of cookies filled the house, the lights on the Christmas tree was on, but there was no one around except for one person sitting in John’s allocated armchair… but it wasn’t John. You knew who it was the instant you laid eyes on them. You could recognize the back of his head anywhere, and the shape of his broad shoulders. There was no doubt in your mind.

“Dean?”

Dean’s head turned slightly at the call of his name, a smile stretching across his cheeks. “Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.”

Tears filled your eyes and quickly cascaded down your cheeks. You didn’t know where everyone was, but that didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was that Dean was here. He was home. He wasn’t in that hospital; he was here with you.

“Y-You’re here…” you muttered, hastily stopping right in front of him.

“Yeah,” he whispered, eyes following your movements. “The doctors said that I should stay at the hospital for another day, but said since it was Christmas, spending time with the family and my best girl would be a better environment for healing. I just gotta take it easy,” he smiled, “really easy,” he bit his bottom lip, eying you up and down, “so no sex for a while,” he grumbled with a pout, grabbing hold of your hand and tugging you a step closer, so that you were standing between his legs.

“I’m glad your feeling better,” you giggled, rolling your eyes at his joke. Leave it to him to make a sex joke during a serious moment.

Silence ensued and you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of being in the same room as him and not at the hospital. With an affectionate smile on your lips, you took the time to watch and observe him, making sure that this was all real. You reached out your hand, cupping his cheek as you used your thumb to brush over the stubble that had grown over the days. He was handsome. Always so handsome.

Dean leaned into your touch, relishing in the warmth your hand provided. He’d missed you. He wished he could hold you and love you properly, show you low much you mean to him. God, he was in love with you, and he couldn’t recall if it was a dream or not, but he could have sworn there was talk about marriage back at the hospital. He remembered someone saying that he needed to wake up if he wanted to marry you, and damn… not marrying you would be the biggest regret in his entire life. If waking up meant you’d spend the rest of your life with him, then he had no other choice… he had to wake up.

A smiled spread on your delicate features, admiration exuding in your expression for the man sitting in front of you. He was real. This was real. He was right there, nuzzling his scruffy face into your unscathed palm. Having Dean here with you, by you side, was the best Christmas gift you could have ever hoped for. He was the best gift in your entire life that you could have hoped for. You were convinced that God had made him for you and you for him. He brought the both of you through multiple trials of hell, only to prove that this thing between you and Dean was the real deal. He’s your soulmate.

“I love you,” you blurted, eyes still misty with adoration.

Dean’s green orbs locked with yours and he grinned. “I love you too.” He pulled at your hand again, pulling you even closer towards him, but you hastily and regretfully stopped, standing your ground as your shin hit the soft cushions of the armchair. “Baby…” he protested.

“The Doc said you had to take it easy.”

“Sitting on my lap isn’t going to kill me,” he dragged at your hand again.

“As much as I want to, I’m not taking that chance,” you jerked your hand away, “you’re still healing and I’m not looking to make things worse.”

“Please.” His voice was soft and his eyes even softer. “I just want to hold you. I need you in my arms. Please…”

How could you possibly resist him? There was no way you could say no, especially when he asked so tenderly. “Brat,” you hissed, the corner of your lips tipping upwards.

“You love me,” Dean cooed, happy to get his way.

Carefully, you sat on his lap, eyes scanning his every feature. His hair is mostly tamed, eyes greener than usual, nose a little red from the cold of winter, lips frosty pink, and the only freckles on his face that you can see are dusting across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. The scruff clinging to his jaw only added to his handsomeness. If there was one word to describe the man that held your heart, it would be beautiful… inside and out.

“More than you can imagine,” you grinned, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on his lips.

Dean let out a content sigh, not realizing how much he needed that. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. This was his heaven.

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted the moment, and you couldn’t help but giggle as you pulled away from a disappointed Dean. “I thought the Doctor said to take it easy?” Sam teased, arms crossed and leaning on the entry way of the kitchen and common room.

“Sammy, you always have the worst timing,” Dean groaned.

“Well, mom is getting antsy—”

“Liar,” Jess popped out of no where. “Don’t blame your mother,” she chides, lightly slapping Sam on his arm. “This guy is the one getting antsy. He wants to open presents,” she reveals as Sam’s face grew red.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Some things never change, huh Sammy?”

“Shut up. You’re lucky your injured, otherwise I’d have to show you up and kick your ass,” Sam groused.

“Alright you two, stop your bickering,” Mary appeared, a large tray of cookies in her hands. Behind her, came John with a few glasses of milk in his hands, and much to your surprise, everyone else started filtering into the living room from behind him.

“Everyone is still here!” You chirped, excitedly and heart filled with fluttering warmth.

“Well, duh. It’s Christmas,” Jo beamed. “Besides, we’re already here. And… Aunt Mary’s cookies are too good to resist!”

“She’s not wrong!” Benny appeared, shoving a cookie into his already stuffed mouth.

A chorus of laughs filled the room before Mary instructed everyone to take a seat in the living room. As time went by, and presents were opened, you couldn’t help but feel thoroughly content. If someone were to ask you what Christmas joy sounded and looked like, it would be everything in this moment. The laughter, chattering, and all the bright smiles surrounding you.

“Did you like your gifts?” You twisted in your seat on the floor, between Dean’s legs.

“Yeah, but none of them compares to the one sitting in front of me,” he admits with a smirk.

You roll your eyes in response, giggling at his cheesiness. “Wow, you’re such a sap.”

“Only for you Sweetheart.” He winks.

Hopping onto your feet, you carefully resume your seat on Dean’s lap. “I love you,” you say, leaning in and giving him a quick peck.

“I love you.”

A chorus of protests and moaning and groaning interrupts the moment once again, but this time you and Dean can’t help but laugh.

--

Like it? Please reblog and share with your friends. I would also really appreciate the feedback!

Say Something Nice Here!

[ask-de-writer]

DARING DO and the ADVENTURE of the X'IBIAN VASE! : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 1 of 21

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DARING DO and the

ADVENTURE of the X'IBIAN VASE!

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck) @ask-de-writer​

And

Carmen Pondiego @askcarmenpondiego​

Cover Art by

Doctor Dimension

52630 words

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 08/26/15

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge.  I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images. 

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Daring Do was sitting at the bar of the Adventurer’s Guild, sipping her coconut milk and pineapple juice.  She was still steaming about the Royal Museum’s Acquisition Committee trying to put her last find, the Golden Necklace of Pharow Underrock, through “the routine process.”  

The routine process gave them the possession of the neckalce for over a year before she could see any return on the difficult, expensive, and dangerous expedition to obtain the priceless artifact.

Her recovery of it from Count Umber had involved a physical altercation.  The memory made her sweet drink taste sour.

Glancing into the back bar mirror, she casually placed a hoof on her pith helmet.  A business suited pony approached her, proffering a card.  Instead of taking the card, Daring Do swiftly lifted her pith helmet.  A knife, aimed at the suited pony stood quivering in her hat, sunk deep into the cork.

She pulled the knife out and flipped it casually back.  The thump of it striking hilt first was followed by the collapse of the silken robed pony who had thrown it.

She turned toward the shaken business suited pony who had just paled three shades of yellow green lighter.  Brightly, she said, “Well, that was a few moments of rollicking fun!  What do you have for me?”

With a shaking hoof, he proffered a card.  “Please call us at your earliest convenience. If you wish, I can take you to the appointment."

Daring Do raised an eyebrow. “Appointment?  You would make an appointment without asking me?  A bit arrogant, aren’t you?  I have some personal business to take care of first.  I will call later, after it is done.”  She turned her back and pointedly resumed her drink.

It tasted better, for some reason.

She sat at the bar until she was sure that he was gone, sipping her drink, the case with the Golden Necklace of Pharow Underrock safely in her saddlebag.  Daring Do hated what she had to do next.

She and her mother, Carmen Pondiego, master thief and head of V.I.L.E., did not see eye to eye on ANYTHING.  However, her mom’s advice was the best that she was going to find.  Daring Do steeled herself and pulled out her magic net mirror.  She tapped the code that she could not forget and hated.

The glass shimmered before a dark, redheaded figure with a gleaming grin answered the call. “City Morgue, you kill ‘em, we chill ‘em. Oooh! Look who is finally dropping a line.”

Answering in a gritty voice, Daring Do spoke low. “Uncle M, I’m trying to get a hold of-” “Yeah yeah, I know. Don’t go ruffling your feathers. Hey Red! Yer kid is on the line!”

Daring rolled her eyes as the view shakily changed to the beaming visage of a khaki colored unicorn mare dressed in red, her pale green eyes throwing a piercing glance at Daring Do. “Adora!! I am so glad you called! How was your trip? I hope you haven’t come across too much trouble. You know I will send some agents to help you if you ever need it.”

Daring Do rubbed her brow, “Mother, you know I hate that name, and no I don’t need your lawless agents. I… I just need some advice.”

A soft chuckle arose, “Of course, Daring dear. Now what seems to be the trouble?” Carmen lifted her brows as she calmly smiled, and the young pegasus held back a scoff. The thief seemed too friendly and eager to help, but why?

“Listen, its not trouble, I just want your -honest- opinion.”

Carmen pouted playfully, “My dear, you wound me, I have always been truthful to you.”

Sourly, Daring Do replied, “I do know that, Mother.  That is the only reason that I am calling you now.

“The expedition went well.  I even got the legendary Golden Necklace of Pharow Underrock.  The assorted traps didn’t even cause much damage to the Pyramid of Keychops.

“The Royal University would not and will not underwrite the expedition but they want me to DONATE the necklace.  They even threatened my tenure in the Chair of Antiquities to get it for free.  The Royal Museum was almost worse.”

The face of Carmen in the mirror nearly lost it with hilarity.  “The Royal Museum!?  It takes over a year to sell them a glass bead!  Then they will try to push you into letting it go for less than half of your price!”

Resisting a twitch in her eye, Daring Do cleared her throat, “Listen, Ma, what… Would you LEGALLY do if you didn’t get paid for a job that you did over a year ago?”

The thief took a moment to think. “Do you really want to go through the whole legal mess of suing said offender? Of course it would make it easier if you actually had a written contract.

“Heavens knows you don’t use the office here that I gave you and you bounce around from location to location so often without a home base so I don’t have any idea where you would keep such a document anyway…”

Daring’s grip on the mirror tightened. “Mother… I DO have an office.  It is in the Royal University!  I am the Chair of Antiquities!”

“Right.  Well, I would collect whatever you agreed on selling and take it elsewhere.. Are you needing my help with that?”

Daring Do’s grip on the mirror tightened even more. “Mother … Mother.  I have already taken it back!  I also know that V.I.L.E. makes a ton of money on the, um, resale of assorted goods.”

Dryly, Carmen pointed out, “In spite of our REPUTATION, we have NEVER been caught doing or been convicted of ANY CRIME.”  Her face twisted to a cheerfully sideways smile as she added, “Give me a few moments to check our inventory of PERFECTLY LEGAL buyers.”

Instead of “hold music” the recorded image of her uncle Marehem's blue furred, orange maned visage appeared giving the commercial message, “Allstable Insurance, You are in good hooves with Allstable!  Please feel free to inquire about our customized policies and truly reasonable rates!”

Daring Do’s teeth grinding together would have been sweet music to any dentist!

Carmen’s cheerful face came back to the mirror in time to save it from being tossed across the room!

One eyebrow raised in amusement, she poked, “Adora, my sweet.  I COULD move the necklace for you. V.I.L.E. does have to be paid for their efforts, of course.  How does 20 percent sound?  I am only offering such a good rate because you are family, no matter that SOMEPONY managed totally destroy all records of her connection to her MOTHER.”

Carmen grinned as Daring Do’s teeth ground together again.  Regaining her control, she asked her mother, “Oh, another thing. Do you know anything about the ROT law offices? They offered a card, I think they want me to find something for them.”

Silence came over the mirror.

“Mom?”

Carmen sighed, “Daring, if being an outlaw taught me anything, its presentation. If you are shady, you pick a shady name for intimidation, for greater intimidation one would use a completely harmless and cheerful name, though that is rare.

“I don’t know much of them but if their name means anything, I would use extreme caution if dealing with them. It could be a bluff or it could simply be an acronym, it could mean that they are rotten to the bone. Are you sure you don’t want me to send someone…?”

“I AM FINE BY MYSELF, MOTHER. Thank you.”

“Alright, Adora, dear.  If you are in the area, we’re having lasagna at 7:00,” Carmen shrugged, blowing a motherly kiss.

“I’ll be sure to miss it..” Daring Do groaned, turning off the mirror.  She rubbed her forehead, fingers running through her monotone mane.

Daring Do was just getting ready to leave when the unconscious pony in the silken robes started to stir.  He fumbled for and recovered his knife.

Setting eyes on her he got up, made a formal Far Eastern bow and said, “Miss Do, if I may be permitted to say so, that was most ill done.  That pony and a few others with him are treacherous liars and wish to steal a priceless thing to which they have no right.”

Daring Do returned quietly, “It was very bad form of you to try murdering him here, in this club. The alley or even the street outside would have been better.

“As for his character, I already know that much of him and his associates.  What more can you tell me?”

Haughtily he dodged her question.  “You knew of his evil ways and still chose to listen to him?  Perhaps I have misjudged you.”

She made a formal Far Eastern bow to him and replied in perfect X'ibian with an ancient proverb. “The failure to listen is the greatest cause of Ignorance.”

The pony’s eyes flew wide and his face fell.  “I have erred greatly by my precipitous action.  Be sure to listen with wisdom.”

He took his leave, robes making a slight swishing sound against the carpet of the Club floor.

Daring Do followed him out but he was nowhere to be seen.  Consulting the card, she trotted up the street.

The building itself was not even hard to locate.  It had a flagpole hanging over the street with a flag of pale off green with gray letters outlined in brownish red. “The Legal Team of ROT, for all of your legal needs!” was flapping in the breeze.

She entered, thinking ironically of the old joke, “pony walked down the street and turned into a drug store.  After five sales, he bought what he wanted and changed back into a pony!”

She walked up to the receptionist and proffered the card.  The receptionist looked down her nose at Daring Do and pronounced, “You are late for your appointment.  You will have to wait for at least an hour.”

Daring Do gave her a return snooty stare and retorted, “No, I do not.  THEY made the appointment without consulting me.  I informed them that they would have to wait until my business was done.  

“I am only marginally interested in whatever they want me for.  You may inform them that they can call me at their earliest convenience to set a mutually agreeable appointment.”  She tipped her pith helmet and turned to leave.

Frantically, the receptionist called after her, “Miss Do!  Please take the elevator with the bronze doors!  The Partners will see you immediately!”

“That is better, Horstense!” Daring Do entered the elevator, which had an earth pony operator. She serenely pulled a large, double edged knife and began to carefully trim her left hoof.  Conversationally, she mentioned, “If this car gets stuck between floors, you get stuck too.  Not seriously, of course.  You will become qualified for a higher paid job, though.  Castrato in the Fallen Pony Choir.”  He paled at the thought.  The elevator ride was uneventful.

She stepped out into a foyer with big glass doors at the far end.  They had black and gilt letters proclaiming, ROT, the firm for all Legal Work.”  Beyond the doors was an office with three desks placed in a U shape with a single hard chair at the focus of the U.  The desks were not occupied, so Daring Do checked to see if the doors were unlocked.

They were.  With a grin, Daring Do entered and quickly leaped across the desk at the center.  She first lifted the comfortable, padded swivel chair out and replaced it with the hard chair.  Checking the desk itself, she found a large flagon of expensive pomegranate juice and a snifter.  There was only one door that they could enter from.  She took their waste baskets and put them where the door swinging in would just miss them. Checking the other desks yielded an assortment of documents, a number of them were maps with X'ibian characters instead of Equestrian words.

She settled herself comfortably, far back, near the doors, away from the focus of the desks.  She leaned back, smiling, and poured a healthy shot.  While studying the maps, she started sipping.

Looking closely at two of the documents caused her to pull out her Magic Net mirror and make several urgent calls.

NEXT ==>

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[thelegendofclarke]

I'm a jonsa fan, but she straight up nailed you, unfortunately. Just own up to it. You claimed something that was clearly a lie and they've pulled receipts on you that shows it was a lie. Honestly, the more jonsa fans that behave like lunatics about daenerys and call her crazy shit, the worse jonsa fans look. We all need to chill out.

Nailed me on WHAT? And own up to WHAT?? And WHAT tf do those so called “receipts” show, exactly?!?

Did you happen to miss the part where she said, “ETA: oh wait i DIDN’T actually send her those links that I SPECIFICALLY SAID I SENT HER but she’s still a terrible person who I hate sooo…” (x)

And no, I didn’t want to get involved. I was TRYING to take a step back from wank and a step back from fandom in general (both for fandom related reasons and for personal reasons, many of which I told this person but would rather not publicly get into detail about). A fact that I told this person MULTIPLE TIMES, and yet they STILL continued to bring up wank to me and drag me into it and demand I insert myself into conversations and situations that made me uncomfortable, which I refused to do as is my right. You can count on one hand the number of times I have actually TALKED about D on my blog. I don’t like the conversation that surrounds her, it is unpleasant, unproductive and (CLEARLY) toxic af. I don’t know why I have the ~responsibility~ to talk about things I have never talked about in the first place or what ~accountability~ I have for things I have never fucking talked about. And I NEVER said there wasn’t toxicity or issues in the fandom when we talked and on the NUMEROUS occasions where they continued to try to show me wank when I specifically said I was trying to AVOID WANK and had it Blacklisted, TS-ed, blocked, and filtered all I possibly could. They were forcing things on me that I was not seeing BY DESIGN for my own personal reasons which I explained to them on more than one occasion. Me saying “I didn’t fucking see this” isn’t me saying “that didn’t happen,” CLEARLY it happened given that they showed it to me. They are just completely misrepresenting what occurred here.

(Oh and not to mention that the times that I DID get involved or try to do something, they were deemed “not good enough“ or “not supportive enough” or “not specific enough.” Remember the Love Train thing I tried to do to be supportive after the whole Campfire Fuckplot bullshit? Yeah, apparently that was me just trying to “bury them in wank.” Like, I cannot even EXPLAIN to y’all how draining and degrading and fucking depressing it is to have people CONSTANTLY nitpicking your every goddamn move and word trying to find some kind of insidious intent and make everything you do or say a personal insult to them. To CONSTANTLY have people hinting at or vague blogging about or a lot of times just down right telling you what a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad person and friend you are. To be CONSTANTLY accused of using people for popularity, of being fake, of lying, of gaslighting. And all this coming from people who are supposed to be your “friends,” it’s NEVER ENDING and it’s just awful to be around tbqh.)

(And it’s REALLY CUTE and SUPER CONVENIENT that the part about “oh wait lol I DIDN’T ACTUALLY SEND HER THOSE OR SHOW HER ANYTHING!!!” didn’t make it into the original call out post. Nooo no no, that call out post is just about how I’m a lying bitch who no one wants to be friends with because I’m fucking shady, and that’s what is making the rounds and that is what people are believing.)

Or how that part about me “reblogging with a rebuttal” is a FLAT OUT FUCKING LIE, given this is the post and the version of the post I reblogged…

Or how my url is NO WHERE in the notes of the 2 year old post she posted a screenshot of that is somehow supposed to prove my ~insidious knowledge~ of something…

A post which I do not remember seeing… I very well might have; but like I said, it has been 2 years, and it’s not a time I particularly care to look back on or think about. (I was also being placed on meds for the first time due to the personal/mental health issues I referenced at that point and my doctor was trying to figure out which dosages I needed so I was out of it A LOT.) Nor does this post refer Hitler at any point, which is supposedly what I am being a “fucking liar” about having never seen.

Or how those DM screenshots (of our private conversation from over a year ago) don’t say a fucking WORD about Hitler…

Or how she left out the original part of the Twitter thread where I specifically stated that it is the “D is Hitler” argument that I’ve never seen. (and for the last time: NO, I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE IN FANDOM SAY THAT!)

And left out the ENTIRE rest of the twitter thread/conversation in question (which does not say ANYTHING about albinism). And in which I did NOT say that I have never seen anyone comparing D or the Targs to other things like Nazis, nor deny that there are any problems with this fandom being toxic (because, i mean, lol CLEARLY there fucking are)…

(**this is where the tweet in the photo above would go but I’m not putting it in again because that would be redundant**)

(Links to this whole twitter exchange for anyone who wants them: x, x, x, x)

Or how this person is accusing me of just caring about ~popularity~ and wanting to maintain my “BNF-ness” and gain “popularity points;” an issue THEY are fixated on (and have brought up and accused me and other people of in multiple times in multiple conversations) not me (x, x)…

Or where they have straight up admitted to keeping tabs on me (or hate scrolling i think is the term the ~youths~ are using nowadays) on twitter even though we do not follow each other on twitter (or on here), and we are not on speaking terms and haven’t been for some time, and they have stated they wanted to curate me out of their fandom experience (x)…

Or where this person is bringing up private and very personal shit (that I told them in confidence because I thought they were my friend and that I could trust them) because they hate me (x)…

**Backhandedly referencing the fucking terrible depression I was going through at the time where I couldn’t even get out of bed in the morning. A fact that I, again, told her in confidence because she was supposed to be my friend and I trusted her.

(Also, this wasn’t the worst few months of MY fandom life. My fandom life doesn’t revolve about YOU or the things YOU care about, believe it or not. I’d have to sit down and think about when the worst time of my fandom life was. There are a few points in time that are strong contenders. But I gotta say… right now is NOT PARTICULARLY FUCKING FUN.)

AND bringing up personal things that happened between us which have nothing to do with what they are accusing me of or the situation at hand…

And for the fucking record: yes, our friendship crumbling DOES stick out in my mind. There are several events and things said that I remember VERY CLEARLY which happened over a number of months. I have NO DESIRE to get into all of that, I personally don’t like airing my dirty laundry for everyone to see or broadcasting my personal issues with someone like it’s one of those fucking Jerry Springer talk shows… But given the fact that the last text this person sent me was about 5 months ago on October 10, 2018 (yes, I have “receipts.” but no, I am not posting them. I, for one, don’t like violating the trust people had in my or their privacy by posting stuff from our private conversations) over a YEAR after this wank happened in September 2017, the dissolution of our friendship has very little to do with THIS.

Or how that was a call out post made up completely of misrepresentations and flat out lies, yet ironically has the goddamn NERVE to call ME a “fucking liar.” And that it was full of false information that she “stands by” and is not only LEAVING UP to let it continue to spread through out the fandom, but also NOT CHANGING OR CORRECTING the part where SHE FUCKING LIED. And how now I am having people like YOU who didn’t even read the post or look at anything she said (which is nothing) calling me a fucking liar too.

Or about how all of this (whatever ~this~ is or whatever tf they were trying to prove) probably has nothing to do with the incident in question in the first place. No, this is more about their person feelings on ME and the shit that went down between us and whatever ~sins~ they feel I have committed against them. And that I didn’t let them boss me around and do what they told me to do and fall in line or CONTINUE to let them use me as their fandom punching bag and take out all their fandom frustrations (that had nothing to do with me and that I could do nothing about) out on me. And that they are using this as an excuse to lash out at me and come after me with bullshit that ISN’T EVEN TRUE. They are straight up, flat out using LIES to call ME a liar… I don’t fucking like this, I don’t want to “Go” or “Do This.” In fact, I fucking hate this; it makes me feel icky and I just want it to be over. But I am NOT going to just not stand up for myself. Of course THIS isn’t the shit that will get spread around or that people will see or believe, but I’m not going to let myself just take it lying down.

DON’T call me a lunatic, DON’T demand I take responsibility for shit I didn’t do and didn’t say, DON’T call me a fucking liar, and DON’T come into my ask with this crap again.

Hate me all you want, you clearly aren’t the first and I’m sure you won’t be the last… but DO NOT SPREAD LIES ABOUT ME.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

A Strange Coincidence: Part 2

Stephen Strange x Reader, Slow Burn, Female Pronouns

A Strange Coincidence Masterlist

AO3 Link/ Support Me on Ko-fi

Summary: You’re a student who just moved to New York City to finish your PhD in Archeology.  But, things turn for the strange when you accidentally stumble upon 177a Bleecker Street.

A/N: So I decided to continue this based on somewhat popular demand and my own brain not allowing me to work on anything else until I posted something.  Strange is my new muse.  I can’t fight it any longer.  I’m sorry Poe.  I promise I’ll come back to you.  PLEASE REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS!

Word Count: 1.9 K

         Strange did his best to forget you. But, as the week ticked by, he realized it was easier said than done.  He cited the unusual circumstances as the cause.  People did not simply wander into the Sanctum.  All of them, for good or for ill, had a purpose.  You had yet to reveal yours, and it was driving him mad.

         He had caught himself pacing the upper levels; often with a book in hand or simply examining the relics, but always within sight of the door.  Wong had asked him more than once if he was expecting somebody, and each time, he couldn’t bring himself to say no.  He was reaching a point where Wong requesting a sandwich from the local deli felt like a God send.  At least it got him out of the Sanctum and out of his own head, for a little while.

         Walking down the streets of New York was a bit of a culture shock every time he did it.  He now so rarely left Kamar-taj, that standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk in one of the most urban cities in the word felt like he was on a different planet. It was strange to think it was his life, not so long ago.  He knew he could never truly go back, but, it was still nice to visit now and again.

         There was a bit of a line at the deli when he got there as the lunch hour was just starting to pick up.  The wait didn’t both him. It was so perfectly normal, he felt a small relief in it.

         The door chimed in a steady pace behind him, he barely registered who was coming in and out.  Until, someone called to him.

         “Doctor Strange?”

         He stiffened, his hands clenching inside his pockets, ready for a fight. But the instinct faded the moment he felt it.  He knew that voice.

         He turned to see you standing behind him with one earbud in your ear, and a surprised smile on your face.

         “Y/N,” he said, your name coming easily to his lips. A million thoughts and questions raced through his mind at seeing you, but none of them made it past his throat. All he seemed able to manage was a stunned.  “Hi.”

         “Hi,” you said, with an expression that matched his own.  You fumbled slightly with your phone as you pulled the earbud out of your ear.  “You didn’t strike me as the deli type.”

         “What can I say? I’m layered,” he said, dryly. His mind was only just coming to terms with the fact you were in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

         You gave a small shrug as an embarrassed look crossed your features.

         “My friend lives near here,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the door. “We were doing a study session and she told me to come here.  Apparently, they’re the best sandwiches in Manhattan.”

         Strange nodded in understanding.  “Well, she’s not wrong.”

         It was then the man behind the countered called him forward.

         “One Ruben on rye, and one tuna melt,” he ordered.

         “Can you make that two tuna melts and a club sandwich on sourdough,” you said, before pulling out your wallet.

         Stephen’s brows furrowed at the gesture.  “You don’t have to do that.”

          “I want to.”

         “One Ruben, one club, two tuna melts,” the man repeated.

         “That’s right.”

         “That’s not right,” Strange insisted. “You’re a student, aren’t you?  You’re supposed to be broke.”

         “I live in New York.  I can’t afford to be broke,” you countered, handing your card over the counter before Strange could protest any further.  The man behind the counter took it, giving you a small smile at your victory. You then turned back to Stephen, with a slightly pleading look. “Consider it a thank you for not throwing me out in the rain the other night.”

         Strange wanted to press the point but realized it would be no use.

         “You’re welcome,” he said, still feeling a little guilty. “You weren’t just paying for me.”

         “I figured.”

         There was a pause.  The silence lingered as neither of you knew what to say with each other.  Strange doubted the reason you stumbled into the Sanctum was just to buy him and Wong a sandwich, but he had no idea how to approach the topic.  And, considering your introduction to him, he could only guess as to what you were thinking.

         “I made this weird, didn’t I?” you finally asked.

         “No,” he said, quickly. “I just didn’t think I’d see you again.”

         A lie, but better than the truth.  While some part of him knew he’d see you again, he thought it would be on his territory.  Then, he could have a plan, or, at least, know what questions to ask.

         “Me neither,” you admitted, before shrugging. “Small world I guess.”

         “Yeah,” Strange mumbled, “small world.”

         Thankfully, your orders were called before another silence could settle in.  You each grabbed your bags and made your way out of the deli.  As soon as you stepped outside, you turned and gave him a small smile, as goodbye.

         He returned the gesture, feeling his stomach sink. It wasn’t how he wanted to end his meeting with you.  He still had so many unanswered questions, but, it was more than that.  Something he couldn’t name tugged in the back of his mind telling him not to go. It was an unusual feeling.  One he couldn’t recall experiencing before.  

         He ignored it as best he could, turning to walk towards the Sanctum.  He got barely three paces before noticing you were walking alongside him.  You both stopped in your tracks, turning to face each other.

         “You’re headed the same way?” he questioned.

         “Yeah,” you said.  The embarrassment was clear on your face.  Maybe it was simply the fact you weren’t completely soaked to the bone, but, at that moment, you struck him as utterly adorable.

         “Of course, I could always just pull out my phone and pretend I got a text for a few minutes to give you a head start,” you offered.

         Strange smiled. “Or we could just, walk in the same direction for a while.”

         You shot him a surprised look, but it quickly dissipated into an odd half-smile. “Or we could do that.”

         You turned back up the sidewalk, walking side by side.  The silence that followed wasn’t nearly as awkward as before, but a tension still remained in the air.  Stephen didn’t know what it was exactly, but he knew he would have to be the one to break it.  

         “So, you’re a student,” he said.  He had never been a fan of small talk, but it seemed like his only option.

         “Indeed, I am.”

         “What are you studying?”

         “I’m actually finishing up my PHD in Archeology.”

         There was a clear sense of pride in your voice, which brought a small smile to his face. He remembered all too well the late nights, and the stressed induced mania that came with getting his own doctorate. His devotion to medicine and pushed him through it, and he had no doubt your own passion was motivating you through yours.  

         “A regular Indiana Jones then,” he quipped.

         “More like a Henry Jones senior,” you countered, wryly. “Honestly, I spend most of my days in the library deciphering dead languages scribbled on broken pottery.”

         “So, you’d be the one decoding the ancient forbidden text that brings about the apocalypse?”

         “That’s exactly the aesthetic I was going for.  I’m glad you picked up on that.”

         Strange let out a small laugh.  So, you were smart and funny.  He now had two solid facts about you.  

         “How much school do you have left?” he asked.

         “Only one year.  I just transferred.”

         His brow furrowed in confusion.  “Why transfer? Seems like it would break up your momentum.”

         “Not really.” You shrugged. “New York homes some of the finest museums in the United States. It makes researching a lot easier.  That and I have friends here.”  

         He nodded, but it still didn’t quite add up.  “But considering…”

         “The whole alien invasion thing?” you finished. “My parents hit me with that one too. I don’t know.  I guess you can’t consider it an adventure without risks.”

         He admitted defeat at that.  Clearly, you were determined. If the prospect of another battle of New York didn’t deter you, nothing would.  But, it still didn’t explain why you had shown up on his door.  

         “Okay, my turn,” you said, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re a doctor, correct?”

         “I am.”

         “So, are you a doctor of academia or medicine?”

         “Both, technically,” he said, allowing some of his own pride to shine through. “I was a neurosurgeon.”

         “Was?”

         He paused, wincing at his mistake. Moments like these, he wished he was a better liar.

         On the other hand, a simple google search of his name would tell you his entire backstory up until the accident.  It was best to be honest with you.  Besides, the idea of lying to you felt wrong, for some reason.  

         Carefully, he pulled his free hand from out of his sweatshirt pockets, showing it to you.  You stared at it in stunned silence.  On instinct, your hand went out to meet it, but you stopped yourself before you could make contact. He watched your gaze as you examined the surgical scars and shaking fingers. To his surprise, there was no repulsion in your eyes.

         “I lost the touch,” he explained, dryly.  “Car accident.”

         “I’m sorry,” you said.  It was an automatic response, but one with no shortage of sympathy.

         He shrugged it off.  “It happened a long time ago.”

         “Well, you seem to be doing alright,” you said, offering a kind smile.

         “Trust me, I wasn’t for a while.”

         You nodded, but didn’t press him for an explanation, for which he was grateful. He was surprised he told you that much.

         “Okay,” you said carefully. “So, how does a former neurosurgeon become a curator of a random old home in New York that makes him dresses like a blue monk on the weekends.”

         He huffed out a laugh at your description.  “Who says it’s just the weekends?” he countered.

         You rolled your eyes, clearly wise to his game.

         “C’mon, you have to give me something.”

         “Hmm, no I don’t.”

         “I bought you lunch.”

         “And that makes us even.”

         You let out a huff of annoyance, but you knew he had won. He grinned in triumph just as you were approaching 177a Bleecker Street.  Without another word, he turned up towards the staircase, leaving you at the bottom.

         “I’m going to get it out of you eventually,” you promised.

         “I wouldn’t count on it.”

         “I’m an archeologist, it’s my job to find secrets buried in old relics.”

         He hand went instinctively to the grey at his temples as he turned to you. You wore a teasing smile, with humor shining in your eyes.  Before he could say anything smart, you shot him a wink and walked up the street.  You got a good five paces before his mouth finally caught up with his brain.

         “I’m thirty-five!”

         “Old relic!”

         He breathed out a laugh, shaking his head.  He kept his eye on you until you were out of sight, his mind coming to a new understanding. He was going to see you again, and that knowledge alone brought him peace. Your purpose would reveal itself in due time.  There was no rush. 

Permanent Tag List: @sassy-satanunicorn, @roseslovedreams, @stargeek727, @kaliforniacoastalteens, @yourwonderbelle, @steve-thotgers, @stellasakura31

Doctor Strange Tag List: @siriuslovesmarlene, @letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse, @cobalt-one, @independentideals, @cinnabearice, @queen-maximoff

[the-lady-bryan]

saw a post and i wanted to reblog it and spit fire and venom and just....

okay, i realize just before hitting post that a TLDR would be a good idea, but i can’t really focus my thoughts enough to do that so...

if you want to read more, go for it. everything below is about my frustration at people who can/have gotten the vaccine basically making me feel like shit because i can’t get it for medical reasons and i just needed to vent.

i’m so damn tired of this. i’m one of the people that has to rely on herd immunity for vaccines now. because of medications i am non and certain health conditions, my body rejects a lot of stuff. the covid vaccine could actually do more damage than good for me. my doctors have all told me, point blank, because of my decades long documented tendency to experience the rare and atypical side effects of damn near every prescription medication i’ve had since i was around 3 years old, i actually have a greater chance of getting and surviving covid than i would surviving a side-effect. and that the risk of dying from the virus itself for me, personally, is a hell of a lot less than dying of a side-effect of the vaccine should i develop one.

so i get to play russian roulette here. only there’s not just one bullet in the chamber, there’s about four and am i willing to bet i’ll hit the one that won’t kill my ass.

i’m just.... i’m so goddamn tired of being made a villain simply because i am an outlier. because i’m one of the people in the vulnerable population all you assholes getting the vaccine are supposedly trying to protect by getting it yourselves.

instead of yelling at everyone who hasn’t gotten it yet, can you at least take a minute or two and find out if the person you’re talking to has been blowing smoke up your ass or is someone like me please?

i’m getting real tired of getting told off before i can explain and being labeled a liar, anti-vaxxer, conspiracy nut just because i have to tick the NO box on a form and don’t feel like digging out 30 years worth of medical records for you because you wanna feel self-righteous and “Stick it to the” whatever group you think i’m part of at this point. i don’t even care anymore. kinda jaded at this point.

like, can you give me a standard answer i can give that won’t force me to expose my medical history but also not lump me in with the actual ignorant assholes please? it seems like every time i think i’ve found one (my personal fave and least problematic one so far has honestly been “i’d rather not say” because it conveys there’s more information involved than i’m comfortable sharing) yet someone else finds a problem with it. fuck, at this point i’d be more than happy if they came out with a fuckin medical bracelet specifically for people who medically cannot get the vaccine if it will get people off my ass about it.

[doctortwhohiddles]

Spot on Anon

So I found the ask that seemed to have sent Gator over the edge. I copied the ask since it’s too long to screencap. Gator’s response is in italic.

All right Gator, let’s see if you’re brave enough to post this (I bet you won’t).

So you call us obsessed and deluded. Have you seen my blog? I dare you to find post were I analyze Benedict’s private life. I dare you to find a post were you see me analyzing every photos taken of him and his wife. I really don’t think you can say that about your blog, can you?

You see, us “nans” as you like to call us live in the real world. A world were Ben is happily married with two children. A world were we know that we don’t have a say in his private life and nerver will. A world were we don’t feel the need to insult a complete stranger to feel better about ourselves. You think what we’re doing to you is disgusting? Honey, that’s nothing to what you’ve been doing to Sophie and her kids for the last 3 years. What we’re doing is calling out your lies and your behavior. You’re the bully dear, not us. Let me prove that to you.

1) You never, ever call Sophie by her name. Always by some mean nicknames, like Zero or Octopus. That’s a totally normal thing to do for someone your age. NOT.

2) You over analyze every single photo of Benedict. Always saying there’s something wrong with him. Unless Sophie isn’t in the photo, because then he looks great. Even in pictures were Sophie was cropped out of. You always scream “Photoshop”. Because for some reason, you can’t bear to see them together.

3) You change theories every 5 seconds. Case and point, the last pap pictures. You started saying that Sophie ambushed him, then when your pal Aeltri decided that it was photoshoped, you changed your story. Because you can’t have an original thought by yourself. And now you’re saying that Sophie is using an old photo to mess with Ben. So which is it? I’ll tell you, it’s none of the above.

4) You’ll believe every lie told to you without questions, as long as it paints Sophie in a bad light. Case and point : the whole Groucho Club story. Again something started by Aeltri. That story is a hoax started by someone who thinks the Royal family are giant shape-shifting lizards. But when someone says something nice about her, you need proof in triplicate with a court seal to believe it. But yeah, we’re the ones that are obsessed.

5) Every time there’s a sighting of Ben and his family, you automatically deny it. You try to look for anything that would discredit it. Again, by ignoring all the facts. And when you can’t, you make up some bullshit theory. Case and point : the whole “it’s too hot in Atlanta to go biking”. But apparently, it’s not hot enough to stop Marvel from getting him to run around in full Doctor Strange costume. And by ignoring that plenty of people live in Atlanta and go by their business, even in summer.

6) You actually think you have mutuals with Benedict. If you haven’t hear from your sources in a while, it’s because they got bored of you. You were trolled. Do you honestly think that anyone with compromising info on Sophie would go to a no name blogger from nowhere USA instead of going to the police or selling the story to the tabloids? In what world does that even make sense?

You want to know why we screencap your blog? Because you crave attention, and reblogging gives you notes. Which is the only thing you want, not Ben’s well being. Because if you cared about that, you would delete your blog and apologize. And to answer one of your anons, we’re not trying to convince ourselves by calling out your lies. Neither are we trying to convince you. Because it’s crystal clear that you’d rather die than to admit you were wrong. No we’re exposing you for what you are, a bully, a liar and a fraud.

I don’t know if I’ve seen your blog, because you sent this in anon.  (I try to avoid any seriously devoted Benedict blogs). I never said all nanny fans are obsessed. But if you are the one buying 16 photo ops in one day with Benedict, you are obsessed. As far as craving attention? WTF? Nope. I don’t care how many notes I get. I’m not in this for me. Never intended to even get involved in the fandom at all. It wasn’t until I saw how horrible Sophie was that I even started posting. I have absolutely nothing to prove to you or anyone. And I’m not the one sending in anon hate to someone with a different opinion/outlook on something, so how am I the bully? I’m not going to dignify the rest of your rant with an answer. Everyone who actually really follows my blog already knows what my response would be. Just know this, I care WAY more about Benedict’s wellbeing than I do about being right. So stop projecting onto me and take a good look at yourself.

Let’s analyze Gator’s response shall we? She first starts by attacking fans lucky enough to go the LFC and have their pictures taken with Ben. I don’t know about you, but that reeks of jealousy. I take comfort in knowing that Ben’s security team have Gator on their watch list. It wasn’t until I saw how horrible Sophie was that I even started posting. That’s Gator speech for “My internet boyfriend found a IRL girlfriend and I can’t take it. I’ll spend my days shitting on her to feel better about myself”. And I’m not the one sending in anon hate to someone with a different opinion/outlook Saying that you think she looks ugly is an opinion. Saying that she’s a drug addict whore, a blackmailer and an abuser is slander. There’s a huge difference between the two. A difference that every bully seem to forget. I care WAY more about Benedict’s wellbeing than I do about being right. I almost choke with laughter when I read this. If she truly cared about his wellbeing, she’d apologize and delete her blog. Not make up even more disgusting lies about Sophie and her family. But she’s right when she says she doesn’t care about being right. If she did, she would have stop by now. I’m not going to dignify the rest of your rant with an answer. Of course she won’t. That’s because she can’t. That anon is spot on about Gator and the rest of the SGB. Even Gator can see that. And we know what your answer would be. It’s the one that Ben and Sophie would like to give her : fuck off.

[annashipper]

Sojourner Anon Submission

I’m in a similar situation to the Confused Anon - I’ve known about Benedict Cumberbatch since 2007 (Atonement), and had seen him in a bunch of stuff over the years prior to Sherlock, but wasn’t impressed enough with his acting to take an interest in him until Doctor Strange and TLD (it helped that he was smoking hot in both of these - scruff really does wonders for his face). Naturally my first course of action was to go on a bender through Tumblr for a couple of months, which is how I wound up on skeptic blogs. I’d seen pictures of Benedict with his wife in the past (mostly from the 2015 awards season) and I was aware that there existed a faction of fans that didn’t like her - mostly because of something that had happened to a friend of mine about two years ago.

I don’t wanna go into too many details, since I don’t want to expose her to more hate, so I’ll keep it simple: she’s a huge Benedict fan, not a UK resident but got to stay there for a while back in 2015, during which time she saw Sophie and the baby at some kind of event she (my friend, that is) attended - something that got her torn apart by the skeptics. Now, I’ve known this woman for ages. I’ll grant you that she’s a nanny, but most of her friends are, at best, very casual fans. She’s not a BNF, nor an attention-seeker or a consummate liar, so I find it truly hard to believe she’d make up something like that. There was literally nothing for her to be gained by saying she’d seen Benedict’s wife and baby (I doubt she’s on his PR’s payroll, considering she’s not someone followed by a ton of fans or anything remotely close).

I’ve seen the uncensored pap pics where you can see the face of the child being carried. His resemblance to Benedict is almost uncanny, which is saying something because Benedict doesn’t exactly have a very common face. If they really did hire someone, they did one hell of a job finding a kid who looked like the biological son of both parents.

Furthermore, I agree with what Confused Anon had to say. It’s one thing to get your friends and family to cover for you, but this is a man who’s constantly surrounded by virtual strangers that don’t owe him shit. There’s nothing stopping them from going to the press, and yet not even CDAN will publish a blind contending Benedict’s children are a lie (when it had no problems publishing such things about other celebs).

And what happens down the line, if he did create a fake family? They’re too young right now, but in a few years Benedict’s gonna be expected to discuss funny anecdotes about his children on talk shows - like that cute gifset you recently shared, with all the Marvel actors saying how their kids were embarrassed by them. You can bet your ass someone’s gonna ask Benedict what his sons think about him being Doctor Strange, and people will wonder why he’s not bringing them on set like other Marvel actors… and later, he’ll have to start regularly showing up in public with them, or gossip rags are gonna wonder aloud how come he never brings his children to any public events, like others do with theirs.

I don’t pretend to know what spurred this relationship, although I do have a theory that he panicked as he was nearing 40 with no kids and just jumped at the first opportunity to be a father, maybe hoping he’d learn to love Sophie along the way. Sadly, I’ve met couples like that IRL… but I digress. Whatever the real reason, it can’t have involved a fake pregnancy, or he would’ve said “not mine” a long time ago and jumped ship. At this point, that kind of admission would destroy his public image and career for a very long time, possibly even for good, so unless Benedict is EXTREMELY stupid - and he doesn’t come off that way to me - there’d have to be at least one child.

And yes, I’ve seen the photo collages of her pregnancy. I too have been pregnant and given birth, but unlike the rest of your mom anons, I don’t think that makes me an authority on either pregnancies or babies. No self-respecting medical professional would opine on a stranger’s pregnancy by just looking at photos, and neither should laymen who only have anecdotal evidence at their disposal. In other words, sorry, but drawing outlines on pictures isn’t how gynecologists determine pregnancy.

I’ve seen how you react to people who disagree with you, so I just wanted to say upfront that I’m not really expecting a serious answer beyond a sarcastic gif or sending me to those archives that don’t actually answer anything. My infatuation with Benedict has already begun to subside (I mean, it’s been almost six months, there’s only so long I can fangirl). I had five minutes to burn on my daily commute and that Confused Anon was something of a catalyst, so I dropped you a line. Have a great day, Anna, I hope both you and Benedict find happiness in your lives. (Please accept my apologies if this comes out too long, incoherent or misspelled; English isn’t my first or even second language).

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hi Sojourner Anon!

First off, since you’ve seen how I react to people who disagree with me, you probably already know enough to expect a serious answer from me when you’re being as cordial as you have been.  I reserve sarcasm and snark for the obviously baity Anons who’re just looking for trouble.

Anyway, as your submission has indeed come out a bit long, I’m going to try to keep this as short as possible and simply address the points you’re making in the order that you made them:

Regarding your friend and her being torn apart by Skeptics, I don’t expect you to be aware of this since you’ve only just recently discovered the Skeptical community for yourself, but we have a long standing rule about sightings.  They have to make sense (to at least be taken seriously) and they have to come with photographic evidence attached (to be believed and included in confirmed sightings).  As I don’t know what your friend saw and where, it is impossible for me to argue whether what she saw was legitimate or not.  The one sighting of Weirdo and Pilo at an event I can remember, is the one where Weirdo supposedly took (a very young) Pilo (at the time) to an Ian Mc Kellen reading, and that’s simply because there was a lot of back and forth about it being legit.  Skeptics who are much more social media savvy than I am and have far higher powers of Google Fu than I do were able to find multiple pictures from the inside of the venue and ... guess what:  No matter how many brunette women the Nans pointed to as being Weirdo, it turned out she wasn’t in the audience.  If this is not the sighting you’re alluding to, I would be more than happy to discuss this with you privately in case you’re inclined to provide me with more details.  

On the matter of your friend being torn apart by Skeptics, let me also add that I personally have never ventured outside of Tumblr for any reason whatsoever and have made it a point to try to deter my fellow Skeptics from doing so as well.  For the record, all real Skeptics know how to stay in our lane.  The ones who don’t are not considered real Skeptics (and yes, there are a number of trolls who have infiltrated the community since the beginning of this showmance and are posing as Skeptics just to make us look bad).

I’ve seen the unblurred pics of Rent-A-Pilo’s face too.  At first I had the same reaction as you did.  I thought Rent-A-Pilo looked remarkably similar to Ben and went on record saying so (on a post which I haven’t deleted, because I don’t delete posts).  Here is the LINK.  Notice how even immediately after seeing Rent-A-Pilo’s face for the first time and posting under shock I still didn’t believe Weirdo had gestated a real human baby?  I still don’t.  

Seeing how the pillows are only ever mentioned / trotted out when Daddy needs to sell a new project or Mommy throws a tantrum to get a new pap walk, I don’t believe they’re surrogate children either.  I just think they’re imaginary.  It goes hand in hand with the fact that Ben knows next to nothing about babies.  2 hour skyping sessions with a 5 month old, filthy props from a movie set being used as teethers by a 10 month old and babies eating sliced apples are only some of the things Ben doesn’t seem to understand are not the norm for children of Pilo’s age.  I won’t even mention the lack of bathtime.

I don’t think Ben is extremely stupid.  I think Ben is extremely desperate not to come off as a man who faked a relationship / engagement / wedding / pregnancy / fatherhood for an Oscar he didn’t even come close to winning because he simply chose an unstable famewhore to play the part of his red carpet girlfriend.

I have to say I’m disappointed you don’t see fit to counter any of the arguments we pose via the bump comparisons you mentioned seeing as you’ve obviously studied them.  I have been posting / reblogging / arguing using these bump comparisons as evidence that Weirdo faked the first pregnancy for the better part of the past two years and not a single Anon has ever offered a convincing counter-argument regarding how ridiculous Weirdo looked with a bump that kept inflating / deflating / changing shapes / inflating again / folding over / disappearing altogether / inflating again / staying the same size during the last trimester of that weird pregnancy.  I would really like to hear your thoughts on that if you feel inclined to have a mature back and forth about it.  Be forewarned:  arguments such as “I can’t accept anyone would be crazy enough to fake a pregnancy like that while being papped left and right” and anecdotal evidence such as “my sister’s friend’s mother’s cousin’s (twice removed) never developed breasts / never got swollen ankles / belly kept deflating / bellybutton kept popping out and in and out again, etc” won’t be taken seriously.  For obvious reasons.

I hope the above answers some of your questions about my take on this showmance and I apologise for getting a bit snarky regarding the pregnancy that never was on my last paragraph, but faking that pregnancy is a very sensitive subject for me personally.

I have a couple of very close friends who have been trying to conceive and I know how taxing it’s been on them.  Let’s just say a famewhore faking a pregnancy just to establish herself in the public eye rubs me the wrong way.  

It’s why I keep coming back to the first pregnancy (which we got to document through numerous pap walks unlike the second one), it’s why I’ll keep calling Weirdo ... weirdo and it’s why I intend on remaining an active Skeptic for the foreseeable future.

Apologies to everyone reading this blog as I think my answer to Sojourner Anon may actually be longer than her submission was.  What can I say?  I’m a rambler...

[unorthodoxsavvy]

I can’t think of anything sooo yell at me about anything you want!

I don’t know what I want in life aaaaah

I said I didn’t want another relationship and that’s true but I see an opportunity for one and I’m like but what if I lose it 😪

But then if I say yes then wow that makes me look like an asshole because I broke up with my ex because it wasn’t working out having more than one relationship 😞

Not only that but like I made a mistake and they basically said we couldn’t be friends anymore right now because of it 🙄 I totally understand that and I don’t think they would lump me in as an “abusive ex” but I’m like what if they do. I know that’s on them and not me tho

Basically they got upset about me talking about them on my vent blog without naming them- it’s my vent blog I’m allowed to vent about what I want and be angry about it I shouldn’t be guilty for having a space to post my negative feelings 😤

I’m really tired of all of my fat positivity posts being derailed by “people that are looking out for my health” Stop! You ain’t my doctor! Accepting yourself as fat is not promoting obesity! Do these people also go around and tell skinny people who eat tons of junk food they need to change? I think not! I had no idea there was so much fatphobia on this website! Being fat is not a bad thing! We are not inherently unhealthy! Skinny people can have just as many problems as us so shut up!

I’m so tired of seeing trans vs cis posts where one side bashes the other! I’m here and I don’t really feel trans or cis?? But if I had to “pick” one for someone else’s standards I guess I would “pick” cis?? I don’t feel comfortable speaking out on trans issues minus the rampant transphobia of truscum but then it’s like “if your not trans you’re cis” and it’s like no I’m not either 😣 and why does it even matter? Why should my gender matter to anyone? Oh, because everyone wants to look for an excuse to attack me! Even if I did ID as trans I would be called a cis bootlicker. At best I’m probably just a transtrender- and so what if I am that’s not a bad thing 😑 my ex also told me that if I IDed as genderfluid I couldn’t be cis. Like?? What happened to you being supportive of my gender expression and identity??? If I was born a girl and today I feel like a girl then today I’m a girl who was born a girl so like a cis girl? But maybe tomorrow I don’t!! But it’s none of anyone’s business and I can’t believe someone I was dating had the audacity to say I can’t ID as.... myself.... basically....

For all I know they could be reading this and come after me but I don’t care! I’ve apologized for my mistakes which I guess wasn’t good enough for them and I got called a liar and a fake basically and playing the victim like no?? I wasn’t?? So if you don’t want to be friends now how about we both move on and forget we ever existed to one another??

I’m so happy to have moved on to talking to someone who is nice and doesn’t drag me or anyone else down with negativity and complain- and people are allowed to do that in moderation but it was too much for me.

I can’t find a job so I basically feel useless.

People have been starting shit on my positivity posts which are usually aimed at myself so I feel like a garbage human being: fat, not trans, angry at people saying my identity is invalid, etc.

I just wanna!! Throw this blog!! Away!! Yeet it into the trash can!! I’m tired of getting so much hate!!!

I get that sometimes I do mean shit!! I get it!!! But a lot of times I’m really just trying to be like “hey fat people arent bad” or “hey I’m sorry to everyone that’s confused on their gender” and it’s like people gotta ATTACK me for it!! Get a life!!

I’m not even popular on here it seems! Everyone I used to talk to on here has left me! No one wants to be my friend anymore! I’m so lucky I have my DnP group chat but like other than that!

I don’t get asks a lot, no one really knows anything about me, no one cares to know, and that’s okay, but I don’t have anyone else right now. I moved away from everyone I knew and now I don’t leave my house! I can’t get a job and I’m too poor for school! I don’t get money from the shop I help run which is fine but that means I have 0 income! My mom had to pay for everything for me!

I’m going to spend my birthday alone in my house on Twitch and tumblr! Please come to the birthday party I’m throwing myself!

People! Really! Don’t! Like! Me!

Yeah I help run a shop but like I feel like no one likes what I make even though a lot of it gets purchased!

I do meetups and giveaways on any of my blogs and no one ever comes!

I’m not a big blog and no one knows who I am!

I doubled my medication when my prescription didn’t come in and I’m still miserable and imaging Bad Things to cope! I’m probably going to have to call my provider AGAIN and change my medication completely!

I’m aware that I’m loved and wanted but for some reason my brain says “no you aren’t! you would be much better off gone!”

I’m tired of everything I say on here being argued with! I just want to exist in peace and spread some positivity! I am ready to throw fists at someone! And then I get called an asshole for standing up for myself and others!

As much as I hated college I wish I could afford to go! I can’t start until a year from now! And I don’t even know what I want to major in! Getting a degree is expensive and I wanted psychology! Now it’s like I might honestly make better money opening my own online bakery! But what am I going to do? I don’t have a car, so I can’t deliver anything! I’m going to try and get some gigs at craft fairs for the shop, but again, I don’t have any of the shop’s money! And maybe I can do some farmer’s markets to start up my bake shop but that still costs money!

I sit around and create things all day but no one reblogs or reads them! Because no one cares! My efforts are futile!

I would love a job I don’t hate! But that seems so unachivable! Literally I think I have a better shot of opening an online bakery!

My pets all hate me too! Minus the dog!

I keep thinking I’m going to get better and I even doubled my medication and I’m not!

I feel bad for even saying all of this because idk why!