#and 4 and a half hours later i post the meme
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Title: E-Vite 4/20 [A New Hire interlude]
Series Masterlist
Pairing: Alpha!Mob!Ari Levinson x Naive!Omega!Reader
Word Count: 4,382
Summary: Ari’s mate finds herself invited to a brunch featuring more than just bottomless mimosas.
Warnings: 18+ Only, Drugs, Recreational Drug Use, Mob AU, Age Gap, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Ari, Darkfic, Breeding, Smut, MINORS DNI, Dead dove: Do not eat
A/N: i’m so sorry this is so late! but (i hope) it’s worth it! takes place roughly a week or so before reader and Ari leave for Paris. a little character development i think you’ll all enjoy. divider by @firefly-graphics. dedicated to @cocobutterqwueen, who prompted this work ❤️
This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘
You purse your lips, your brows drawing together critically as you stare at yourself in the mirror. You heave a dissatisfied sigh, brushing imaginary dirt from the hem of your white tennis skirt.
“Too much?” You mutter, rocking back and forth on the heels of your matching ivory sneakers. “It’s too much, isn’t it?” The silver charms on your bracelet jingle softly as you begin wiggling out of your skirt, trying to undo the hook-eye closure on the back. You aren’t expecting to see your mate there, leaned in the doorway of the walk-in closet with an amused smile playing at the edges of his full lips.
“Third outfit in fifteen minutes, Sweetheart. You nervous?” There’s a teasing note in his voice that makes you pout, shaking your head even though it’s obvious he’s right.
“No, I’m not nervous.” You continue fiddling with the zipper until Ari closes his hands around yours. It’s silly, to be this anxious about meeting a bunch of people you’ve already been talking to for weeks, but you are. Joining Moms of Riverside County had been a whim. At most, you had expected to find new dinner recipes, maybe a few fun things to do with Liam. Instead, you’d found… a community?
Some of the members were a little out there, but there were far more good apples than bad. People posted pictures, shared memes— not pronounced “may-mays” as Ari had pointed out, to your embarrassment. There was even a group-chat, which you had recently been invited to—✨🔥 Cool Moms of Riverside County🔥✨, which had given you a good laugh. You weren’t particularly active yet, but even so you had been tagged and invited to a private brunch being hosted by one of the members you actually talked to with some regularity.
Come if you can! We’d love to see you! Sabrina’s casual message outside of the group chat had left you scrambling to respond last night, typing out at least thirty messages and showing them to Ari before deciding on one.
Okay! Thanks for inviting me, I wold love to come!
“I-it’s just a facebook group thing.” You mumble, and he chuckles, kissing your forehead.
“It’s okay to be a little nervous about meeting your internet friends for the first time.” He must feel it in the bond, the electric apprehension running through every one of your limbs and down to the tips of your fingers and toes. “Just be yourself, Sweetheart. Trust me, they’ll love you.” He turns to exit the closet, but pokes his head back in. “And I like the skirt.”
An hour later, you’re in the Jeep on your way across town, Sabrina’s address punched into your phone’s GPS. You’re trying to think of potential conversation topics in your head, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel. You’d already checked the list of people in attendance—only ten, including you.
Exclusive.
Sabrina’s house is half an hour outside of the city, nestled in the rolling hills off the highway. The private drive is blocked off by a wrought iron gate that you have to pull up to an intercom to get open. You lean out of the window, jabbing your thumb into the button.
“Yes? Who is it? Shh, Adrian!”
You lick your lips nervously. “Um, it’s uh, it’s—”
“Oh wait, I know who you are! I can see you on the camera. Come on in, girl!” The intercom buzzes loudly and the fence slides smoothly out of the way. It takes a full three minutes to get from the gate to the house, and when you pull up, there’s a line of expensive looking cars parked along the side. You take up the rear, taking a deep breath before hopping out. Gravel crunches under your feet, and as you’re heading up the stairs the front door opens.
“OhmyGod Hi!” You recognize Adrian from his pictures, his long dark hair piled up in a bun on top of his head. “How are you? Come in, come in,” he motions you forward with a wide smile. In one hand is a half full glass of wine, and he hugs you with the other. Underneath his rather fruity cologne is a distinctly Alpha scent, and when you pull away, you spot half a ring of teeth marks on the skin beneath his collar.
“Good, thanks,” you sputter, stepping over the threshold. It’s a monster of a house, the ceiling looming far above you. The air is heavy with the scent of warm sugar and brown butter, like someone’s baking. You cast a look around the foyer, there are pictures of Sabrina with her children, her husband—who just so happens to be the headmaster of Liam’s school. You toe off your shoes in the entryway, and Adrian scoffs.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that. Sabrina doesn’t give a shit about mud on her carpets,” he laughs.
“Habit, I guess,” you say, your own nervous laughter ringing awkwardly in the air with his. “I, um, have-have you been in the group long?” The questions you practiced in the car tangle confusedly together on your tongue.
“Like three years, I think?” He waves his hand as he shrugs. “But it got a lot more fun when Sab starting modding. Way more jokes.” He fixes you with a sly smile. “Let’s go get you a drink!” You tail Adrian through the house, and the sound of voices gets louder and louder as you go. The long hallway opens up into a massive kitchen, and a gaggle of people surround the marble island in the center of it, only a few of whom you recognize.
“Ladies,” Adrian claps his palm against his khaki-clad thigh, holding his wine glass aloft as he raises his voice to get their attention. “And gentle man,” he giggles, placing his palm against his chest, “Our last guest has arrived.” You duck your head in embarrassment as a little cheer ripples through the rest of the attendees.
“Sorry I’m late, I think the e-vite said 4:20—”
“Girl please.” You recognize Keisha’s fiery orange locs from her profile picture. “I just got here ten minutes ago. Sabrina! Girl where are you? You know I don’t know where you keep the glasses in this maze.” By your count, there are about seven people here, eight, including you. “Are you sure she’s the last one, Adrian? I thought Barb and Hannah were coming, too?”
“Kayla’s got chicken pox, they cancelled this morning,” Adrian replies. “They’re fine, though, said she’s holding up well. Marathonning every episode of Bluey, apparently.” As the two of you join everyone else at the counter, Sabrina appears in the opposite doorway.
“Sorry, I went to get a lighter. Glasses are above the sink—hi! I’m so glad you could make it!” Sabrina is tiny, strawberry blonde curls piled on top of her head and secured with the biggest, pinkest bow you’ve ever seen. She reminds you of a Malibu Barbie—mansion and all. Sabrina rushes over to you, quickly depositing the tray of what looks like cigarette papers and lighters on the counter before hugging you tightly.
“Thanks for coming!” Sabrina looks genuinely happy to see you. They make room for you around the island. “I just moved here like a year and a half ago and it is so hard to make friends.”
You let out a relieved breath. “I know exactly what you mean.” You had been nervous about coming, about whether or not you were actually going to fit-in . It feels like there are huge holes where general knowledge should be about how to act, what to say. All the culturally relevant gossip you know hit it’s expiration date a decade ago—but surprisingly, you don’t feel as terrified of that as you had been before arriving.
The conversation flows easily, and you finish your first glass of wine with a comfortable, warm buzz. Adrian makes it his business to serve the cooled cookies, and when you take two, he laughs.
“Okay, girl, I see you!” You blush as you bite down, gooey chocolate coating your tongue.
“I didn’t eat before I came,” you admit, polishing off the first cookie and starting on the second. “These are so good,” you add, and Sabrina preens.
“Thank you! I baked them myself.” Sabrina ducks down beneath the island countertop, and you hear the sound of a drawer rolling open, and then shut again. “I will admit I found the recipe online, though.” As she stands, she tosses a plastic bag of—
Oh my God.
Your eyes widen as the baggie of weed lands on the table, and they dart worriedly to the faces of everyone else there. No one seems surprised or upset, in fact, Keisha claps excitedly.
“Good,” she chirps, plucking a single paper from one of the packs on the silver tray. “I’ll roll.”
You shift nervously on your feet, unsure of what to do. You’ve never smoked before—the most you’ve ever done is drink alcohol, and even that you don’t do with any regularity. Ari’s beers in the fridge at home remain mostly untouched by you, and the occasional glass of wine is the extent of what you generally allow yourself. Not that you mind, really—
You tap jittery fingers against the granite, and Adrian clucks his tongue at you.
“What’s wrong, babes?” His eyebrows crease with concern. “Not a joint person?”
“N-no?” You force yourself to calm down—these are all adults, and it’s not like it’s… illegal here, per-say. “I um, I haven’t actually ever… smoked. Marijuana.”
“You haven’t?” Sabrina’s gaze moves worriedly from your face to the half-eaten tray of cookies and back again. “Are you… kidding?”
You sigh, dragging an embarrassed hand down your face. “No. Ugh, my… my parents were um. Really strict. Sorry. I’m not a narc or anything, I just, um, never really—” Sabrina grabs your hand with a soft smile and the rambling word vomit screeches to a halt.
“You don’t have to explain yourself at all. I just, well, I kind of thought you knew, to be honest.”
“Knew?”
“Yeah, it’s said 4/20 brunch, on 4/20,” she looks at you with a leading expression, but whatever reference she’s trying to make flies entirely over your head. You raise an eyebrow.
“That wasn’t… the time?”
“420 means weed girl!” Adrian yelps, doubling over with raucous laughter. He rests a hand on his hip as he gasps for air. “This was a weed brunch!” You pinch the bridge of your nose, groaning. “Oh my God the cookies! You ate two of them!” Cold realization crosses your face as you turn to face them in horror.
“There was weed in the cookies!?”
—
Ari is waiting for you in the kitchen when you call—he’d been expecting you home half an hour ago, and though he wasn’t worried, he was beginning to get antsy. The bond is open—wide open, in fact—and your hazy amusement permeate it like smoke.
“Hi, Sweetheart. You okay?” He asks, and you giggle.
“ I’m good. I’m so-oo-oo good, ” you sing, drawing out the syllables. There’s a loud splash, and Ari raises an eyebrow as you gasp loudly through the receiver.
“Don’t drop your phone!”
“I’m not gonna dro-op it,” you hiccough, and Ari can practically hear your pout. “She said I was going to drop my phone, but I’m not going to drop it—”
“Kitten. What is—”
“Can you come get me?” You say, cutting him off in a dreamy, small voice. “I don’t think I should drive. The floor is moving.” Ari pulls away from the phone, staring at it with confused, narrowed eyes.
“The floor is… moving.” He repeats your babble, just to make sure he’s hearing it right. You heave a relieved sigh, as if he’s validated some previously held suspicion.
“Yes. And I really don’t think I should drive. I’m all wet.”
“Okay baby. Can you send me your friend’s address? I’m going to call Martine over in case Liam wakes up, and then I will come and get you.”
“Okay.” You hang up with no warning, leaving your confused and exasperated mate staring at his phone. It takes several minutes—and quite a few nonsensical strings of emojis—before the address comes through.
She’s drunk, he thinks to himself, shaking his head. A little wry smile plays at the edges of his mouth as he buckles himself into the Bentley. She has to be. He’s not upset as he turns out of the driveway, skirting generously around Martine’s car. He’s glad you’ve made friends—the tight fist your father had kept around your life has left a lasting impression, one Ari is eager to erase.
The traffic choking the highway eases as he circles around the city, the exit dumping him out into the rolling foothills on its outskirts. The address you’d sent him is one that takes him into familiar territory, and when he pulls up to the gate, it buzzes open before he has a chance to push the button on the intercom.
Ari exits the vehicle, taking stock of each car lined up in the driveway—including yours. He pauses at the front steps, listening, before making his way around back instead. The sounds of music and laughter grow louder as he rounds the side of the house. Your scent is here too, cut with others and diluted by the smell of chlorine and charcoal smoke. The yard opens up before him, carefully manicured green surrounding the deeply set in-ground pool.
“I don’t remember inviting the mob.” An amused voice makes Ari turn, before he scoffs.
“You wouldn’t have to, Sabrina, you married it.” He replies, shaking his head before reaching down for a hug. “It’s been a while.” Sabrina tokes long and hard on the joint in her hand before she laughs.
“You’re telling me. What are you doing here?”
“My mate is here.” Ari peers over Sabrina’s blonde head, squinting at the pool. “The one on the pizza floaty.”
You’re sprawled on the double-wide rubber float, chatting animatedly to a man sitting on the pool steps up to his waist. Sabrina claps her hands, loud, animated laughter escaping her grinning mouth.
“That’s your mate? Oh my God. I think—I think I’m gonna pee.” She doubles over, while Ari frowns down at her. “Sorry. Sorry. I just—Odd couple. In my defense, she is the sweetest person on earth, and you’re… you.” Ari purses his lips.
“Yes, well, you’re related to me,” he says dryly. “I still don’t think you’ve forgiven me for putting worms in your hair.”
“I haven’t. It was disgusting.”
“I was eight.”
Sabrina ignores him, flicking a honey-blonde lock over her shoulder before making her way over to the pool. She wades in, waving to get your attention. You look utterly relaxed, your limbs draped loosely across the floaty. Your fingers and toes trail in the water as a you drift. You sit up as Sabrina approaches, and for a moment, your wild hair is framed perfectly in the light of the setting sun.
Little lioness.
The words she speaks to you are snatched away by the wind as Ari approaches, squatting by the edge of the pool. You’re wearing a swimsuit you no doubt borrowed from Sabrina, a bikini he suspects is at least one size too small. Sliding off the edge of the pizza-shaped float, you wade over to him, a dopey smile on your face.
“Ari!”
“Hi, Kitten.” He leans down when you reach wet hands up to hug him. Ari doesn’t mind, drawing his fingers affectionately over your bare shoulders and back as he presses his face to the side of your throat. He can’t help but check. Underneath the heavy scent of the chlorine—and a light coating of weed-smoke—is your true scent. Just yours, like he’d known it would be. He kisses your forehead. You giggle.
“I did what you said,” you whisper loudly. “It worked! I just said, um, that I never smoked, but then I ate the cookie—two cookies, I think. Maybe more?” The story devolves into meaningless ramble that leaves Ari laughing.
“I’m glad you’re having a good time, Kitten.”
“So this is the mate.” A lanky Alpha with a joint in a rather fancy looking cigarette holder appraises Ari, his other hand resting on his hip. He offers it to shake. “Adrian. The pleasure is yours.” Ari shakes it. “We did try to keep her out of the pool but she made some very convincing arguments.”
“I see,” Ari replies, chuckling as you give a stout nod from the pool. “She does have a habit of getting her way.” The resulting pout that forms on your full lips is worth the half-truth. You make your way toward the pool ladder, slipping once before finding your footing. You’re sopping wet, water running in rivulets down your soft skin. Up close, the swimsuit you’re wearing is even smaller, the fabric straining to hold back the supple flesh of your breasts.
Ari clears his throat, and Adrian snickers. He shoots the other male an irritated look, but Adrian only grins.
“I packed you a to-go bag, chica. It’s in your purse. You crazy kids have a good night.” He winks, and you wave absently.
“You too, Adrian!” You turn back to Ari. “He’s nice, right?”
“Yeah,” he replies, dragging his eyes up from the curve of your hip where the tie is sinking sinfully into the soft skin there. “Nice. Where did you get this?” He fingers the spaghetti thin strap at your shoulder. Sabrina sidles up next to you with a knowing grin, looping her arm around your shoulders.
“Well, I couldn’t let her just jump in, Ari.” He levels an annoyed glare at her. “What kind of cousin would I be if I let your mate ruin her nice clothes?” You gasp exaggeratedly.
“Cousin?”
“First or second, or something like that,” Ari grumbles. She laughs.
“Remind me to tell you the worm story,” she replies conspiratorially, clapping you on the back. “You go get your clothes.”
“I’ll be right back,” You press a kiss to Ari’s cheek. He can’t help but watch you walk away, the damp fabric wedging itself neatly between the cheeks of your ass. God-fucking-dammit.
“It reeks out here,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “You’d better not be turning my mate into a pothead. I don’t want to have to get into weed distribution, you know how messy that is.” Sabrina waves a hand dismissively.
“Nonsense. Thad’s got a great thing going on with Rogers and Barnes on the east coast. He can cut you in if you want.” She winks. “I like her, you know. Genuinely had no idea she was, um. Yours.” Ari smiles, in spite of himself.
“It’s hard not to love her.”
Ari opts to wait out front, and he isn’t out there long before you stumble out clutching your purse. Your shirt is unbuttoned and untucked from your skirt, exposing the swimsuit you’re still wearing underneath. You look up at him apologetically through your lashes.
“Thank you for coming, Ari, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be, Kitten,” he chuckles, helping you down the steps toward the car. “I’m glad you had a good time.”
You loose a high pitched giggle. “I had so-oo much fun. S-Sabrina’s so nice! She said she wants to hang out more. And—” You gasp, turning to him with a suspicious glare. “She said you put worms in her hair.” Ari laughs, shaking his head as he opens the passenger side door. “How could you do that?”
“I’ll bet she didn’t tell you she dumped cat litter on my head the week before,” he replies, shutting the door before you can respond. He can see that you’re talking anyway, chirping brightly to yourself as Ari rounds the front of the car. He’s not quite sure why, but the sight of it makes his heart swell, even as he shakes his head.
“—gross!” You finish, looking at him definitively.
Ari slides into the drivers seat, nodding. “It was.”
“Will we come back for the Jeep?” You ask in a small, guilty voice. “I like the Jeep.” Ari nods, chuckling.
“I promise.” The stoned, dopey smile you shoot him in response makes Ari wonder just how many “cookies” you’d eaten. You slump lazily in the passenger seat, stretching like a cat as he pulls out of the driveway. You sit there, blissfully unaware of the way that fucking bikini is eating away at his nerves. You drag a hand across your bare midsection, absently playing with the loose bikini strings.
Of course you can’t see the way the edges of your dark, puffy nipples spill just over the edges of the triangular scraps of fabric. Sabrina’s attempt to help you maintain your modesty has done exactly the opposite, leaving you so indecently exposed that Ari finds himself wondering how the soft, plump lips of your cunt even fit in the bottoms.
God-fucking-dammit.
Ari knows he should be focusing on the sparsely populated road, on the hour long drive it will take to get you home— not on the way he can see the pebbled outline of your perfect fucking nipples through that flimsy excuse for a bathing suit. Ari dares to glance in your direction again and groans quietly. You’re running your hands along your bare thighs, giggling and gasping at the sensation of your palms on your own skin.
“Ari, I didn’t know I was this soft,” you mumble, your eyes wide and pupils dilated. “Did you know that?”
He scrubs a hand down his face.
“Jesus, Kitten, you trying to kill me tonight?” He moans, dropping his head back against the seat. You lean over the middle console, an apology already on your trembling lips.
“I’m sorry.” It’s like you’re completely unaware of it, the thrall you have him in as you rest a warm little hand on his thigh. “How can I make it better?”
Martine’s fine at the house with Liam, right?
—
“Oh-oh God!” Your face is hidden, pressed against the hood of the car. Ari has your trembling legs spread as far apart as he can manage, his cock disappearing between the cheeks of your ass. “F-feels— oh— ” You’re even less articulate than usual, your sopping, needy cunt squeezing down around him like a vise.
Ari’s got your little white skirt rucked up around your waist, and the offending bikini pulled to the side so he can watch you take him. Seeing your pussy stretched open wide and straining around the veiny length of his cock is almost as good as feeling it. Ari doesn’t resist the urge to crack the palm of one hand against the cheek of your ass. You squeal, and God the way you fucking clench down is almost enough to make him bust right there—
“Ari!” His name sounds like a desperate prayer on your lips. You’re practically writhing underneath him, your hands forming little fists on the hood of the Bentley. “G-God, feels—” He loves you like this, the words all gibberish on your loose tongue. “Fuck!”
He especially likes it now that you’re high, hoarse curses falling from your lips as you raise yourself up onto your tip toes trying to meet his thrusts. It’s like some of your carefully crafted filter has come apart, allowing through the Kitten that isn’t afraid of judgment or reprisal.
“M’so full,” you whine pathetically, peering over your shoulder at him pleadingly. “More?” He isn’t expecting your breathy, perfect little plea, and the softly uttered request seems to go straight to his cock, and it throbs hard inside you. Ari groans, his head lolling back on his shoulders as he stares unseeingly at the night sky. “More, please.”
The knot at the base of his cock is already starting to swell, and Ari clenches his teeth. Bracing one hand between your shoulders as he anchors the other to your hip.
“More, Kitten?” He asks, chuckling darkly. “Greedy girl. Can you even take more?” Ari draws back until the head of his cock pops out, and he slaps it wetly against your cunt. Slowly, he presses himself into the fucked-swollen mess of your pussy. He doesn’t stop when you begin straining against his knot, murmuring dark words of encouragement.
“You asked for this,” he reminds you, grinning when your forehead hits the hood with a thunk, and you let out a muffled cry. Ari joins you, a harsh growl tearing from his throat as his knot pops inside. “That enough, Kitten?” He asks through clenched teeth. “Your hungry fucking pussy finally full, Sweetheart?”
You push back against him, a lewd squelch filling both your ears. That’s enough of an answer for Ari. He growls, clamping down on the back of your neck with one hand as his fingers sink deep into the meat of your hip. His thrusts are shorter now, but fuller , and each one leaves you mewling and crying. His whole world is condensing down to a single point. You’re all that matters, you, this moment, his cock buried in your slick, sweet core—
“Oh f-fuck, God, Ari, c-cumming—” The nonsense that you manage to string together only barely precedes the way your cunt clamps deliciously around him like a hot wet fist. The pleasurable buzzing in the back of Ari’s skull becomes unbearable, traveling down his spine and shooting like electricity to the base of his cock.
Ari groans, bending over your back to sink his teeth into your shoulder, holding you still while he cums. He still doesn’t know how to explain how right it feels to press inside you and let go—like he’s supposed to. Fuck and the feel of you—Ari groans as you shift, your velvet walls shifting against his still hard cock. He leans back, releasing you so that he can stare appreciatively at your cunt. Lips bulged out from the heavy girth of his knot, a mixture of both your fluids leaking out around it.
You peek over your shoulder at him, your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. Your eyebrows are creased together, your glassy eyes shining with real worry.
“Ari?”
“What’s the matter, Kitten?”
“I think I left my phone.”
end
Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️
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#chris evans#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans smut#chris evans fandom#cevans fic#cevans fandom#ari levinson#ari levinson fanfiction#ari levinson imagine#ari levinson smut#ari levinson x reader#ari levinson x you#ari levinson x y/n#alpha!ari levinson#alpha!ari levinson x omega!reader#alpha!ari#alpha!ari x omega!reader#new hire fic#new hire#hew hire drabble
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am i the assshole for softblocking a person (and… existing, apparently)?
so this requires a bit of a backstory. recently i realized that i hadn't seen a certain mutual (person A) on my dashboard for a bit. i decided to go check their blog directly. when looking for it, however, no results were returned. curious, i went to check on a reserve tumblr account i made when my main got nuked, and this person did not delete their blog, they blocked my main. that seemed weird, because i don't remember any negative interactions with them, but i can be hotheaded and say things i later regret, so it wasn't implausible i said something to upset them. i decide to check the blog of a different person (person B) who i know is friends with the aforementioned one, and that person has me blocked as well. "that's not a coincidence", i think, and after sitting on it for a bit i decide to ask a third person, who was friends with both of them, and whom i consider my friend as well, whether i have done something that might have upset them at any point. they tell me that no, there isn't anything like that they can recall. after explaining what prompted this, i received an explanation that frankly baffled me.
turns out, person B was quite distressed with things related to me. according to them, i was an incredibly cool person who everyone was friends with, but i blocked them for no apparent reason and everyone kept discussing just how cool i am, which led to them feeling invalidated and upset. i should clarify, that i did block one of person B's sideblogs on which they post fanfiction for the fandom we're both in, because i wasn't quite comfortable seeing the kind of stories they write and it showed up in character name search if i didn't block the blog. i did not permablock their main blog, but i did softblock it a couple times because again, i'm not completely comfortable with what they write and would rather avoid interactions with them after finding out. i did not have any particular feelings about them as a person, because we barely ever interacted. and while i would not say that i am lame or something like that, i am also not nearly as cool as person B felt. there is a non-zero amount of people who either have me blocked or don't follow me back, and i rarely post original content, most of my blog is just reblogs of memes or other people's creations. i am a perfectly ordinary tumblr user. but i caused them enough distress that they chose to leave a discord server they were in because they talked about me so much, and for some other personal reasons i'm not quite sure about.
recently, i joined the guild and the server this person was claiming was so fond of me -- partially to see for myself how much people really mentioned me, but also for unrelated reasons. being the nosy person i am, i ran my name through the search function on discord. there was a total of six messages mentioning me in that server. in a total of four conversations. so i have been individually brought up 4 times. which apparently equates to a three hour conversation about me, according to person B.
to clarify, i am not saying person B's feelings are unreasonable -- i do know what it's like to feel ignored or outshined by someone, but i don't think i have personally contributed significantly to them feeling this way, nor do i think they interpreted any of my actions correctly.
so, aita for curating my dash and being brought up in a discord server half a dozen times? i genuinely can't tell.
What are these acronyms?
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oc(s) meme. ✨
Tagged by: @laezels! Tysm for the tag! <3
(So uhhhh I decided to fill this out for both my OCs, since I haven't really posted much for Skora and needed to flesh both of them out more, so umm don't mind me 🖤)
name: velwyn melarn
name: skora aldisian
nickname(s): vel, v, wynnie (hates the last one though)
nickname(s): kora, sko, allie
pronouns: she/her
pronouns: she/her
star sign: scorpio
star sign: virgo
height: 5' 4" / 162.5cm
height: 5' 9" / 175.2cm
orientation: pansexual
orientation: pansexual
race: drow (bhaalspawn)
race: half-elf (sun elf/human)
romancing: astarion
romancing: shadowheart (might be karlach depending on how her playthrough goes 👀)
fave fruit: cherries.
fave fruit: dates.
fave season: less so a favorite season and more so she likes whenever there's a storm going on. something about the feeling of the rain/snow on her skin feels invigorating and the catharsis of everything being washed away.
fave season: winter, preferably indoors and cooped up next to a hearth.
fave flower: orchids (ones that grow in the dark especially).
fave flower: irises and hyacinths.
fave scent: iron, mint, and eucalyptus.
fave scent: sea salt and cedar wood.
coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: coffee to compensate for the lack of rest most days. prefers it black with a minimal amount of sugar.
coffee, tea or hot chocolate: many various types of teas. she's a bit of a snob about it actually (affectionate).
average sleep hours: it would be the standard 4 hours of trance, if not interrupted nightmares or the debilitating migraines brought on by suppressing her bloodthirsty urges.
average sleep hours: skora is adept at quieting her mind and can reliably/consistently get six hours of sleep even under the most dire of circumstances.
dogs or cats: quasits, owlbears, intellect devourers. pre-events of the game it wasn't sustainable for durge to have pets, and she finds herself drawn to the more unconventional ones.
dogs or cats: skora has a fondness for dogs, having grown up with many hunting dogs in her youth.
dream trip: pre-tadpole there was no point in dreaming of travel for pleasure, outside of her father's vision of a world covered in corpses. post the events of the game i think she'd just like to see more of the world beyond what the underdark/bhaal's temple has to offer her.
dream trip: i think she'd like to return home to the isle she is from, she hasn't been there since childhood due to ~certain events~ and i think having a partner/friends in tow might help make that journey palatable.
amount of blankets: it doesn't matter how many you put on her because there's a 98.7% chance she's going to end up kicking them off at some point. secretly, velwyn prefers the compression of her partner acting as weighted blanket.
amount of blankets: one, no more than two. barely moves in her sleep and wakes up in the morning with the blankets exactly where she left them the night before.
random fact(s): velwyn ❤️
velwyn is quite the sketch artist, and she keeps a journal (almost like a book of shadows) in the game chronicling her journey. some of the sketches can be a bit disturbing, though, especially if she's a fondness for the subject. (e.g. a rather gruesome sketch of astarion because she didn't know what to do with her feelings towards him)
fluent in common, undercommon, elvish, deep speech and knows some abyssal and infernal as study for a certain heist.
likes to collect weird shit for study and experimentation later. has led to some 'accidents' around camp during the squad's downtime.
knows how to stitch wounds together exceptionally well, will stubbornly insist upon patching herself up half the time until she becomes more comfortable with the concept of other people taking care of her.
enjoys being challenged and called out on her own shit by others, even if she'd never admit that.
random fact(s): skora 💙
fluent in common, gnomish, celestial, primordial, elvish, draconic and also knows common sign language.
knows how to sail from her family's business, but actually gets incredibly sea sick.
while in school, she double majored in abjuration and divination with minors in illusion and necromancy magics.
has an astigmatism but refuses to 'correct it' with magic, so she'll pull out glasses while reading.
she has a natural calming presence and a quiet confidence, she doesn't feel the need to gloat but will put someone in their place if pushed.
No pressure/obligation tagging: @anderwelt, @malewife-mansplain-magus, @topaz-carbuncle, @phasebun, @starryjuicebox, @elminsters, @vspin, @tavsboots @asharaks, @bhaalbaaby and anyone else who sees/wants to do this!
#tag meme#my ocs.#oc: velwyn melarn#oc: skora aldisian#got a little lost in the sauce here not gonna lie 😅#also if i ever tag u in stuff too much pls lmk!!!#and also if you see this and i didn't tag u is either a) i don't wanna be annoying or b) my goldfish memory (i'm sorry)
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Macy!! Hi!!
Thoughts on YQHBR Ian booping Mickey? <3
DRISH! HI!!!
boy oh boy do i have thoughts. in fact, i even wrote a little something about it 😉 i give you, YQHBR: boop edition
**
Mickey stretches, twists his torso and legs like he’s wringing out a sponge. Bleary eyes blink awake, squinting against the sunlight beaming through his window.
He sighs. Good morning.
It’s April 1st. The day of fools. He already feels like a fool, if he’s being honest, every day of his life. But that’s something he can sort through later. Right now he has some catching up to do.
He rolls over in bed and grabs his laptop where it rests on the dresser. He pulls it into his lap, flipping open the screen and waiting for it to light up. When it does, it’s less than a minute before he’s logged into tumblr.
What….what the fuck?
There’s something new on his screen, right at the very top. It isn’t an ad, at least he doesn’t think so. He clicks it, hesitant, and nothing happens.
Hm. Strange.
He decides to consult the one tumblr expert he knows.
fcku-up: what the fuck is this thing on my dash
eternitysgate: good morning to you too, sunshine
It’s been a week and a half since they’d started talking. They were friends now — not IRL, but something close — and talked nearly every day. It was becoming an integral and beloved part of Mickey’s daily routine.
Ian had been on tumblr longer than anyone Mickey knew. Except maybe Cassie. But he wanted to talk to Ian.
eternitysgate: it’s called boop
eternitysgate: i think it’s an april fools thing
eternitysgate: they do something like this almost every year
eternitysgate: one year you could spam people’s pages with digital crabs
fcku-up: crabs?
eternitysgate: yep. little orange crabs
fcku-up: lovely
fcku-up: so what do i do?
eternitysgate: click “opt in”
Mickey does as he’s told. Waits. A few minutes later, he checks his notifications.
eternitysgate, staysmashed, oliviasmiddlepart, and 6 others boop boop boop
He takes a screenshot, crops it, and sends it to Ian.
fcku-up: explain
eternitysgate: lmao
eternitysgate: who else booped you?
Mickey checks. Cassie twice, Victor, Liv, Zoe, and Ian 4 times.
fcku-up: you, mostly
eternitysgate: excellent 😇
eternitysgate: now you boop back
fcku-up: this is silly
eternitysgate: boop me back, bitch 👊🏻
fcku-up: 🙄
eternitysgate: go to my blog, click the little paw. but don’t accidentally unfollow me or i’ll cry for a thousand years
fcku-up: 🖕🏻
Mickey clicks on Ian’s username and opens his blog. There, in the navigation section, is a little orange paw. He clicks it.
You’re about to boop eternitysgate
And then, below it, in a purple oval,
boop
He sighs. Clicks it. A tiny green box shows up at the bottom of the screen, altering him to the fact that his boop had been sent through.
eternitysgate: BOOP BOOP BITCH
fcku-up: you are a child
eternitysgate: I AM A GOD
eternitysgate: you don’t understand mick, i’ve been doing this for an hour and a half and i’ve never felt more alive
fcku-up: happy for you
eternitysgate: oh come on, you know you love it
eternitysgate: now go boop cassie back or she’ll come whining to me about it
fcku-up: FINE 🙄
**
It’s been two hours and, much like Ian, Mickey has never felt more alive. He’s been booping almost the entire time, his meter ticking up, up, up. He’s booping friends, mutuals, strangers, people he’s seen in his notifications and people he’s never seen before in his life. Anyone and everyone.
He and Ian are in what the user base has declared a “boop war” — flooding each other with boops, not caring if the other person boops back first. It’s madness and Mickey can’t stop laughing.
There are memes now. Viral posts made mere minutes ago. He’s never seen anything like it, never been a part of anything like it.
eternitysgate: boop me again and i’ll fly to chicago and boop you IRL
fcku-up: is that a threat or a promise?
eternitysgate: both
Mickey bites back a grin.
eternitysgate: do you think they’re gonna keep this around after the day is done?
fcku-up: idk, maybe
fcku-up: part of me hopes they do
eternitysgate: it would be a never-ending war
eternitysgate: wake up every morning, ride into battle
fcku-up: eventually you’d admit defeat
eternitysgate: HA! not likely
It goes on like that for hours. They talk for the entire day. It isn’t all about boops, little tidbits slip in between the cracks – what did you have for lunch? how’s your sister? do you have to work tonight? – but the main focus is this inane game they’re playing, this innate sense of bonding they’re experiencing with each other and everyone else.
Mickey can’t help but feel like he’s a part of something, finally. In this game, and in the grand scheme of things. He has friends. Mutuals. People that want to engage with him. Acknowledge him.
To see and be seen.
The sun set ages ago. Mickey is beneath the covers, laptop on his thighs. He boops Cassie, then Liv. Then goes and super boops Ian, followed by an evil boop. He wishes there was something higher than an evil boop, but alas. He decides to send another.
eternitysgate: stop evil booping me you bastard
fcku-up: never shoulda told me to opt in, bitch
eternitysgate: god i’m gonna miss this
fcku-up: they might keep it
eternitysgate: in case they don’t, i just want to say – it’s been a pleasure booping with you 🫡
Mickey smiles. Rolls his eyes. Can’t help but find Ian, as always, painfully endearing.
fcku-up: you too, nerd
#IDK WHAT HAPPENED I BLACKED OUT#i miss them so much#and i miSS YOU DRISH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH and i love seeing you back on my dash#i hope y'all enjoy this one#maybe this is the motivation i need to get my ass back in gear and give y'all the final chapter + epilogue you deserve#we shall see#ANYWAY#ILY#BOOP#yqhbr
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OC MEME TAG GAME | thank you for the tag @topaz-carbuncle <3
FREYJA
Nicknames: Se Timpa Velkrys, ‘Reyja (by her brother)
Pronouns: She/her
Star sign: Taurus
Height: 5’3
Orientation: Bi
Race: (bg3) Half high elf | (actual lore) Half-Valyrian
Romancing: Astarion
Favourite fruit: Cherries
Favourite season: Winter
Favourite flower: Dahlias
Favourite scent: Rosemary, winter air
Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: tea
Average sleep hours: 4-5
Dogs or cats: cats
Amount of blankets: 2 blankets, both fur
Random fact: Her dragon’s name is Vahaeron, the twin dragon of Rhaela, who belongs to her twin brother. These dragons are the hatchlings of silverwing, and were later gifted to the twins by king Jaehaerys I Targaryen, their grandfather.
FREY
Nicknames: Se Timpa Zaldrīzes, the undead prince (post-res), arsehole (by his sister)
Pronouns: he/him
Star sign: Taurus
Height: 6’1
Orientation: Bi
Race: (bg3) Half high elf | (actual lore) Half-Valyrian
Romancing: No one right now lol
Favourite fruit: Clementines
Favourite season: Spring
Favourite flower: Snapdragons
Favourite scent: The smell of firewood burning
Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: Coffee
Average sleep hours: 9-10 (he loves to sleep)
Dogs or cats: cats
Amount of blankets: like 10+ at least
Random fact: His dragon’s name is Rhaela! As previously mentioned, the twin dragon of Vahaeron. Similar to Frey, Rhaela was killed by Vahaeron in battle and was later resurrected, left with an array of battle scars and a missing eye. She is the smaller dragon of the two. In their actual lore, Rhaela and Vahaeron are white/silver dragons, similar to Silverwing (I’m limited with dragon variants in bg3 lol so they appear red when I make in game edits, but nothing I can do bout that unless I learn how to recolour them)
Tagging: @dolceaspidenera @anderwelt @dark-and-kawaii @korcariiwitch - feel free to ignore this if u don’t wanna do it or if you were already tagged I apologize for tagging twice 😭
(So I tried to fit them in asoiaf before the dance of dragons while keeping their Baratheon bloodline, but all I could find was Lady Jocelyn Baratheon and Aemon Targaryen, soooo that is what I am going with maybe… even if they are supposed to take their fathers name lol. I wanted them to have dragons and somewhat maintain the lore that the dragons went extinct after the dance of dragons—besides Dany’s dragons of course waaay later on. I’m not a lore master of asoiaf or got/hotd, so I tried my best 😭 but I’m always changing shit so I might just end up making up something else until I’m happy with it lol—so the names and times don’t really matter and shouldn’t be looked into too much cause it might not make sense 🤭)
Me trying to figure out their lore and where to fucking place them in the mess that I made of the asoiaf universe
#tag game#oc: freyja baratheon / se timpa velkrys#oc: Frey Baratheon / Se Timpa Zaldrīzes#a lot of my stuff is cringe so just uhhh have an open mind 😊
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flying across the country later this week so as usual it's time for a 150 WORDS MEME!!! send me a number (or up to three) and I'll write 150 words in that wip. annnnd go, excerpts under the cut (and you can find summaries for the fics here)
1. “I didn’t ask this of you!” Xingchen said. “That you would - sully your hands with demonic cultivation, bring back the person you hate most in the world, for my sake–”
“You never got that you were the only one who really mattered, Daozhang,” said an all-too familiar voice behind him. Song Lan’s entire body seized up and he twisted around to see Xue Yang perched on the windowsill, his eyes fixed on Xingchen like there was nobody else in the room – in the world, maybe. Song Lan’s blood turned to ice. Xingchen’s mouth opened, his head lifting, but Song Lan couldn’t decipher the expression on his face.
“Xue Yang,” he said, his voice a trembling whisper. Xue Yang’s face broke into a smile, his eyes feverishly bright.
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s me.” (Life After Death)
2. “So,” he said, and then realized he didn’t really know what to say next. Xue Yang watched him with a look of wide-eyed innocence that said he knew Xiao Xingchen was struggling and wasn’t going to help him. A spark of annoyance had Xiao Xingchen pressing his lips together.
“So what do you do when you’re not…”
“Getting scraped off the road by nice boys?” Xue Yang said with a crooked smile, and Xiao Xingchen’s face heated up a little.
“I assume that’s not how you spend most of your time.”
“Not usually, no,” Xue Yang said. “Maybe I should try it more often, though.” (Redux)
3. By the time they pulled up to the house Pete and Macau had apparently picked out, Vegas was exhausted, despite the fact that all he’d done was sit in a car for a half an hour. That was bad enough, but then the walk up a short flight of stairs to the front door left him out of breath and a little dizzy. He ended up leaning on Pete, the burning in his chest not just from what apparently counted as exertion now.
“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “Fuck. Are you fucking kidding me?”
“It’s okay,” Pete said soothingly. “The doctor said you’d get tired–”
“I know what the doctor fucking said,” Vegas snapped at him. “I didn’t think that meant ten stairs would be a problem.” His heart was beating very hard. What was he supposed to do? If riding in a car and a few stairs wiped him out like this–
Useless. Worthless. Pathetic. (post-canon vegaspete long(er) fic)
4. “Pete said the shootout happened around noon,” Vegas said. “By the time you told me, it’d been hours.”
Porsche wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions, so his discomfort was obvious. “Well,” he said, “there was a lot going on, and–”
“Don’t bullshit me, Porsche,” Vegas growled, interrupting. “You held off telling me what happened on purpose. Was that your idea or somebody else’s?”
The fact that Porsche didn’t look happy just made Vegas angrier right now. If he at least had the grace to be smug and shitty about it then that would be something Vegas knew how to take, and how to deal with. (Undercut)
5. He realized that for all Xue Yang’s vicious words, he had never spoken in any detail of that time. There was his mention of a garden, his assertion that Xingchen had been happy, and that one brief goading allusion to a relationship that he didn’t want to acknowledge. Other than that…nothing. It would, he thought, be an easy weapon for Xue Yang to use against him, to rub Song Lan’s face in the knowledge of their – friendship, however false it had been.
And yet there was silence there. That’s not yours, Xue Yang said, like memories were something he could hoard, possess, like a stolen sword or – or a piece of candy. (Walking Far From Home)
6. Nai had a strange look on his face, vaguely distressed but also like he was thinking very hard. “What was his name?”
Wolfwood opened his mouth on a lie but found himself saying, “Vash.” He filled his lungs with smoke and held his breath for a little while before letting it out, watching Nai closely. His expression looked like he was trying to remember something, and a chill went down Wolfwood’s spine. What happened if the old Knives suddenly just…woke up, like this, got all his memories back and…what would he do? What would he be able to do?
But then Nai shook himself and squeezed his eyes closed. “Vash,” he said again, out loud. “And you’re Nicholas D. Wolfwood.” The way he said it was so careful and serious that it was hard not to crack a grin. This was all still too weird to actually follow through with it, though.
“Wolfwood works,” he said.
“Why not Nicholas?” Nai asked, apparently genuinely curious. “Doesn’t sound as cool,” Wolfwood said, improvising instead of saying well for one thing it’d be really fucking weird for you specifically to call me that. If baby Knives got to calling him Nico that’d be it. (The Second Coming)
7. “Pain makes you snide,” Gabriel said. “But I would rather you not strain yourself anyways, my dear.” There was a towel over his arm and he carried a bowl and a pitcher of water. “Are you hungry?”
Lymond’s eyes tracked his every movement, a falcon observing an eagle. “That depends. What price sustenance?”
“No price,” Gabriel said. “And I shall take that for answer.” He shook his golden head. “I wish you would not insist on thinking so poorly of me when I simply seek to care for you in your time of need.”
“Simply that,” Lymond said. “I see. And should I decline your gracious offer?”
“I fear I cannot oblige,” Gabriel said. “How could I permit your self-destruction when I can prevent it?”
“Quite easily, I should think,” Lymond said. (et ipsi sunt jacula)
8. “A month,” Xue Yang said. “You’ve got a month to impress me. I’ll leave your baby brother alone and you get to see him, once, before that time’s up. And you tell me everything. If I think you’re holding anything back I’ll have a fierce corpse tear you apart. Maybe it’ll even be your a-Ning.” His grin was full of teeth. “And if it works out then maybe we can keep it going. How’s that, Wen-daifu?”
“I don’t imagine I’m going to get anything better,” she said flatly.
“You won’t.” Xue Yang cracked his neck to one side and stretched his arms overhead. “All right, then. So what d’you have for me?”
Wen Qing kept herself from exhaling in relief. A terrible relief: it was a poisoned bargain, a pathetic shield, and right now all she had. Maybe by then…maybe by then things would be different. Jin Guangyao had said…
She couldn’t trust anyone’s word. Not here.
Except, funnily enough, she thought she could trust Xue Yang’s. Whatever else he was, there was a strange kind of honesty in him. She didn’t doubt he could kill her without blinking and never think twice about it. But she thought he’d keep his promises. (fall apart, destroy, release)
9. Liu Mingyan was a problem.
If she had to be fair (though Sha Hualing was not generally interested in being fair), she was less annoying than her brother, but that was setting a remarkably high bar, and she was more annoying to Sha Hualing specifically. As far as Sha Hualing could tell, Mingyan-guniang had made it her business to interfere with Sha Hualing’s business at every possible opportunity. Sometimes it seemed like she couldn’t turn around in the Human Realm without running into her, even when Sha Hualing wasn’t doing anything wrong. Or hadn’t done anything yet, anyway.
Or at least hadn’t done anything Liu Mingyan could possibly know about. (under pressure)
10. “Don’t suppose you’d take these off now,” Xue Yang said, holding out his arms. “Seeing as we’ve got a common enemy.”
“No,” Song Lan said flatly. Xue Yang turned his eyes hopefully on Xiao Xingchen, who seemed like he might be a softer touch, but he seemed to be busy cleaning out the shallow wound that’d sliced open Song Lan’s left arm. Xue Yang suppressed his prickle of annoyance and held onto his smile.
“Really? I’m not your biggest problem anymore, Song-daozhang.”
“You’re still a problem,” Song Lan said. Xiao Xingchen raised his eyes briefly from Song Lan’s arm to his face, and then glanced toward Xue Yang. Xue Yang held in the urge to show his teeth, but Xiao Xingchen just turned his eyes back to the wound he was tending anyway. “Freeing you would make you a worse one. Turning the wolf loose when there’s a tiger hunting doesn’t give the hare a better chance.”
“Does that make you two rabbits?” Xue Yang said. (strangers once united)
11. “Why won’t it work, you mean?” Xue Yang said, and laughed. “I can’t tell you all my secrets, Zichen.”
Don’t call me that, Song Lan almost wrote, but he stopped himself. There was almost certainly no better way to ensure that Xue Yang called him nothing else. Instead he wrote, I would expect you to want to brag.
“Ha,” Xue Yang said. “What would be the point? It’s not like you’d be impressed. And you already know how good I am. Was.” His smile fell away a little, momentarily, and for a split second Song Lan saw him as he’d truly been when he died, hollowed out and exhausted, bloody and beaten even before Song Lan slid Fuxue between his ribs. “You are how good I was. My greatest creation. Even more than the Yin Tiger Seal. I just remade that, after all, but you were all mine.”
Song Lan couldn’t actually vomit but the nausea was still overpowering. He gritted his teeth, controlling himself through the waves of hatred and disgust that rolled through him. (the poison in your bones)
12. “What is it?” Anders asked. “You’re upset.”
Fenris bit his tongue on his first response and instead said, “I think you can agree that it hasn’t been a particularly good day.”
“Oh,” Anders said. “Yeah. I guess that’s true.” He paused. “Wait. Where’d all the Templars go?”
“To the Maker’s embrace, I suppose,” Fenris said.
“They’re dead?” Pause, then, sounding a little disconcerted, “did I kill them?”
“No, mage,” Fenris said, his patience running even shorter. “I killed them. Now shut up.” If Anders were just a little shorter he would throw him over his shoulder. If he wanted to risk a brain injury that would incapacitate him even longer Fenris would knock him unconscious. Unfortunately, neither option was viable.
“Oh,” Anders said. But thankfully, for once, he listened.
Or, as it turned out when Fenris turned his head to look at him, he’d just passed out again. (the best all lack conviction)
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Right off the bean, this is not a callout post.
I'd talk to the person this is about 1-on-1, but a) he's had me blocked for 4 years, and b) it's mutual. This is me venting on my personal blog, something that he decided to vague about me doing back when I had my first blog.
With that out of the way. I'm really fucking tired of people stealing from Valenth/Revecroir, and from its creator.
Years and years ago, when they were a literal child, my bff/queer life partner--for the purpose of this post, their name is Leupai--made lizard-critters with hands on their tongues and called them leupaks.
Eventually, they ended up splitting off from Subeta where they worked at the time, making an affiliated petsite called Valenth where the leupaks featured quite prominently as creatures in a fantasy-meets-steampunk world.
Unfortunately, their boss was a piece of work, and following a rather large kerfluffle involving another petsite lifting other elements of my partner's work (namely, a dragon concept and a companion concept), my partner was fired by the Subeta head boss. The leupaks were renamed into leupai, and Valenth expanded into Revecroir. This was in 2014, give or take a few months.
Through about half of the Valenth era and into the Revecroir era, Leupai was dating someone else, who went by Sixar at the time, later Kismeti, and the two had a long-distance open relationship. Kismeti also did a fair amount of site art for Valenth, and described himself as Leupai's biggest fan; when he'd met Leupai originally, his username referenced leupaks, he had a bunch of leupak characters, and a leupak sona.
I met both of them in 2013-2014, right around the close of Valenth, and started chatting with them both. Leupai was more responsive, Kismeti was more reserved, but I did the best I could.
Over the years, I kept trying to reach out to Kismeti, but found that Leupai was honestly more willing to talk with me, so I did become better friends with them. Note that I was friends with Leupai, and trying to be friends with Kismeti. We chatted, we sent memes, we played World of Warcraft, I bought folks pizza across the Pacific Ocean, you know the drill.
Through this, I became really familiar with Leupai's world, at that point named Revecroir. I got to know their lore, their worldbuilding, their current projects, and the leupai creatures themselves.
The leupai were--and are!--still fat lizards with paws on their tongues, who can open portals between worlds with acid in their claws, who transfer their consciousnesses to other bodies if one is destroyed, and whose strength comes from the realm of dreams and creativity.
In the early days, in lore that wasn't publicized, leupai were roaming around to find a world to live on after Valenth. This was a project that was supposed to be worked on with Kismeti, but nothing really ever came of it. Eventually, Leupai kind of moved on from that storyline to write more about Revecroir itself.
At the same time, I tried asking Kismeti about his worldbuilding, because he had characters and allegedly a world of his own, but didn't really get a lot in the way of answers. I saw a lot of Sonic fanart, I saw a lot of homestuck, I saw a lot of MLP:FiM, I saw a lot of Captain Planet. Eventually, I kind of... Gave up asking? And that's on me, but frankly, if you ask someone to share their stuff and they don't share their stuff, I figure that's the signal to stop asking.
As time went on, though, I was seeing some cracks forming in the 10-year relationship between the two, and I was helping Leupai through a lot. I watched as he yelled at my best friend for not responding to messages fast enough. I watched as he made plans with Leupai and then fucked off to do other things for hours, leaving Leupai in the lurch and worried about his physical safety. I watched as he gaslit Leupai about their ability to use a computer.
On one memorable instance, when Leupai's internet was unstable while we were all playing WoW together, Leupai left the voice call to go reset the router, and Kismeti decided that it was a great time to shit-talk Leupai's intelligence to me. For a half hour straight. Until Leupai rejoined the call.
Eventually, I visited Leupai in person and watched as they were broken down to tears by Kismeti failing to respect their boundaries for literal hours, until Leupai caved to Kismeti's preferences. That was a rough night, and I remember wondering why the fuck my best friend's partner was treating them so badly.
About a month and a half after I visited Leupai, they decided to break up with Kismeti, because they'd had enough of him verbally berating them for not responding fast enough to memes sent over instant message, among so many other things.
He, to put it mildly, lost his shit.
(For the record, I know what went down, because Leupai had me read the messages sent back and forth, to make sure they were grounded, and were reading things right. I've seen logs going back 10 years. His original vague accused me of not knowing what I was talking about, but boy howdy I was either there, or have read the raw logs.)
Anyway, he begged for Leupai back. Leupai gave him a chance that he fucked up within a day. Leupai said goodbye and blocked him. He then started messaging me about this on discord, clearly trying to use me as a go-between to get to Leupai.
At the time, I was going through some Complex Feelings about my own abuse by various people in my life, triggered by his behavior, so was reblogging a lot of support stuff on my original blog. I guess he decided this was vaguing about him, because he made a vaguepost accusing me of not knowing all the details (unbeknownst to him, I'd read everything) and finally blocked me.
I figured this chapter in my life was done at this point, and moved the fuck on. Made a new blog because I didn't feel like getting all his shit off my old one, moved across the country, got a new job, the whole shebang. Leupai and I entered our odd QPP/partners/bffs/???? phase, and I genuinely didn't think much about him, unless I was helping listen to Leupai talk about stuff they'd gone through with him.
Until this year. When I saw some comment of his break containment and end up on my dash, under the name "riftclaw". I had a bit of an inkling, so I broke my "don't look" rule and looked at the linked toyhouse to confirm it was really him.
Turns out, riftclaws are... Lizard creatures. Who open portals between worlds with acid in their claws. Who are looking for a new world to call their own. And who have some divine properties, that may involve body switching.
And all of Kismeti/riftclaw's old leupai characters are now riftclaws.
Oh, and he was planning to make them into a closed species. To make money off them.
Now, leupai were decently popular back in the day. I still have leupai characters, and make some periodically from time to time. There's a tag on tumblr and everything; if you're reading this, there's a decent chance you remember Vee yourself, as a fair number of my followers were there too. People still talk about Valenth from time to time. Leupai still has a folder of old fanart from back in the day with some 800 pieces of art in it. They were, by all accounts, successful until they weren't.
But the height of popularity was back when Vee was still around, in the late 2000s and early 2010s. The only new stuff in the tags is from an archive blog of old Vee assets.
Despite that, though. And I know this from messages between the pair, I know that Kismeti tore into Leupai repeatedly for "being more popular" and "having more eyes on their work".
Even though "those eyes" didn't keep Leupai fed or housed, or really give them any income.
Even though "those eyes" meant getting 50 notes on a tumblr post as opposed to 20.
Even though "those eyes" just increased thievery and the constant pressure to be a Content Creator(tm), and were a major part of what drove Leupai off the internet entirely starting in 2018.
So imagine.
Imagine for a moment.
Being so hungry for clout and attention.
That you steal your ex-partner's species concept that they've had since they were literally 8 years old, barely file off the serial numbers, and then make that your entire online persona four full years after your partner broke up with your ass twice for being an abusive piece of shit over a 10-year timeframe.
To borrow my own tags from this post, which got me thinking about all of this again?
#This is all to say; if you're jealous of someone else's success? Fine. Go have your emotion. But don't lift their shit.#Your emotions are valid; your actions aren't.
(Oh, and this is the smallest thing in the world, the least important piece of this? Riftclaws are already a thing from a game released in 2016 called Grim Dawn.)
#phoenix sounds#leupai#leupak#Valenth#Revecroir#I have a lot of feelings and a lot of emotions and a lot of frustration#Leupai's had their shit stolen three times now#Once when they were a kid; once by another petsite#And now once by their ex#Which is just... Honestly? I guess they've got an original idea because everyone else seems to be cribbing it#This is why the Revecroir setting's forever private now though#Leupai got run off the internet by this kind of thing (and much worse) and they're staying gone now#And this whole hbomberguy vid thing about plagiarism is just making me think about... How many people this impacts#How many artists have had their shit lifted and stolen by someone and how crushing that is#How many people that disenfranchises and removes from communities#I can attest that Revecroir is flourishing but it will *never* be seen again by outside eyes because of the repeated thefts#How many more things are like that I wonder? How many people stop making all together because of this sort of thing?#Ties into the sssniperwolf shit from a few months ago where she was freebooting stuff from much smaller creators and claiming it was hers#In her case we do know that there were small creators who stopped making after she stole their shit for millions of views on youtube#So it's not like this is some victimless crime#Anyway I think the constant searching for clout/visibility/reach/whatever the term de jour is?#Has made everything unfathomably worse in terms of theft and plagiarism#And to confront the latter we have to remove the former
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Fallout 4 was the first and most major disappointment of my whole gaming life, to such an extent that I've only now, years later, begun actually seeking out information on the things about it that were awful. Because the game was so absolutely entirely empty that, when it became clear to me very early on that I was not going to be able to stomach getting halfway to the end of the main story I just put the game down in stunned silence and wondered absolutely nothing about what else the game contained that I hadn't already seen. But the more I look, the more I'm sure that it is proof positive that Bethesda is totally done for, has nothing to say that is worth saying or listening to, has no respect for players and the IP into which it just happened to luck, has no respect for the very concept of lore and publicly showcases that to a fanbase it is fully aware is full of lore lovers. These people think it's cool that they ignored the whole notion of how ghouls work in universe, just to make a stupid side quest out of someone's baked 2 pm post it note quest idea. They totally misrepresent the pre nuke world as serene despite what we have been led to think of it and begin the game showing you standing OUTSIDE WHEN A NUCLEAR BOMB IS DROPPED CLOSE ENOUGH FOR YOU TO SEE IT only to later claim that the child in your arms had uniquely pure (non-irradiated) human DNA, and they do both of those things just to open the game with a shot of the bomb and because all they understand about the relevance of the Americana nostalgia theme from previous games is the meme of it. They think that Fallout is super mutants and Nuka Cola and 50s diner vibe, and the rest is just fun sprinkles. The fact that there are human skeletons and nuke era trash in people's living quarters and businesses after allegedly 200 years of putting the pieces back together. The absolute lack of interest in creating anything approaching characters with half the depth of children's books in order to string me along to finish the god awful story that relies entirely on someone assuming that you would stumble, nearly naked, out of a vault in an irradiated future filled with hostile creatures and would find you way to a place that literally no person alive has ever been known to find. It's just shameful. And the fact that some people enjoyed the game enough to put hundreds or thousands of hours in means they straight up have absolutely no incentive to do any better, because they can still convince themselves as developers that it's not a bad game despite the characters, story, potential character choices, skill progression, and worldbuilding that people love in Fallout and RPGs all being so wildly lacking that even fans of the game mostly don't even defend those aspects.
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Rags to Witches: Day One
Rather than splitting posts up by weeks, I'll go by content. Some days my Simself was very busy, other days were just about the grind.
For reference, my goals for these are as follows:
Must wrap up within three weeks of gameplay.
Must have a functional home, as per RUNAWAY TEEN rules (bedroom + bathroom + kitchen).
Must be at Level 3 minimum of their various occult (ie, have levelled up twice).
This time I'm putting my Simself through it. Like Min Jun she's a Young Adult, has the GLOOMY FREEGAN + GOOD traits and Level 4 Charisma and Level 3 Cooking simply because I hate starting adults with zero skills - not because I'm afraid to grind but because it feels so unrealistic (and also because I didn't want to set myself on fire).
Day One started out in the Magical Realm. Temporarily I was a teenager to cheat myself the GOOD MANNERS and COMPASSIONATE traits (I'm allowing for those as strictly speaking, they're not marketable) only I got stuck with a cake that was not at the centre of the table. Being a community lot that I was currently in, I couldn't go into build mode and move it, or put it in my inventory without taking a piece. So, fail.
Simmy therefore ended up in the Celebration Centre for a second cake (this is looking like one of those Sims 4 roommate memes where all they do is bake white cake) - and getting major low fun moodlets due to her FREEGAN trait.
Being that I had wasted half a day on this BS, I cheated my needs back to green and returned to the Magical Realm, where it took me roughly four hours to walk across the lobby and introduce myself to the Sage of Practical Magic, Simeon Silversweater.
"I've impressed you with a POLITE INTRODUCTION so let's do a bit of idle chit-chat so that you will teach me all that you know..."
And yeah. Part of the reason why I did cheat myself GOOD MANNERS is because unlike Werewolves and Vampires where you can unlock a lot on your own (and for free), learning spells is dependent on either spending Simoleons on texts or buddying up to the three sages - and they will only agree to teach you if your Friendship bar is at least the halfway point with them. So I figured that the boost from a POLITE INTRODUCTION (and some charisma) would help to counterweight my disadvantage in this area.
Some more flattery (and photographs) later and Simeon delivered the motherlode where this challenge is concerned - the SCRUBEROO spell 🎵
"You must have foreseen the amount of dumpster diving in my future - thank you."
From Simeon I also learned the Potions of Good Fortune and Plentiful Needs (he really gets what this challenge is all about) and then worked out my biceps (look I don't even know what muscles this is helping) by stirring a big old ladle aimlessly until I reached the NEOPHYTE level of spellcaster. I traded in my single skill point for DISCHARGE, which isn't a spell that I'm currently planning on using, but will unlock using less discharge myself to cast spells when I level up once more.
Then after selling the Literalite (§125) I'd dug up behind the Magical Realm HQ, I jetted off to Moonwood Mill to work on my art skill. Which as you can see, I really needed to.
Somehow I sold three paintings and reached Level 2, only to develop a very inconvenient FEAR OF FAILURE. Given the 'masterpieces' I was churning out, it tracks.
Since I have the RENAISSANCE SIM aspiration, I reached Level 2 in the Logic skill before I zoomed over to Grimtooth for some free chips, then placed my little tent outside and called it a day.
DAILY TOTAL: §191
#my sims#simself#sims 4 challenge#sims 4 gameplay#rags to riches#sims 4 rags to riches#rags to riches challenge#sims 4 rags to riches occult#sims 4 rags to witches#realm of magic#moonwood mill#simeon silversweater
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i heard you were permabanned from reddit 4 times. kudos. what happened?
Hi I'm alive again after taking a lengthy mental health break from online activities.
"Permanently suspended for threatening violence" is the line that seemingly keeps showing up in my one account's inbox because reddit's dogshit "Anti-Evil Operations" isn't handled by humans until appeals are elevated. This means I got suspended twice before any others became "permanent".
The first one, for 3 days, was for using slurs in a reddit chat for the 196 mods before we had a discord. It happened within MINUTES. I was using them as an example of what Automod was going to filter, and in no way would anyone human misinterpret what I was doing.
The second one, for a week, was for a 6 1/2 year old comment concerning my brother, the way he died, and a Particularly Spicy Take™ about his killer (drunk driver) and how I wanted to kill her for a long time and still might if I ever saw her again. It sounds worse than it actually was. After that one I completely deleted my post history on reddit, because someone was clearly targeting me.
The first "perma" was for replying to someone saying "some people need a brickin'" with, and I'm paraphrasing myself here, "I'm a pacifist in the sense that I think wars are fucked up and should be avoided, but some people really need a punch in the mouth." Autoflagged on a keyword. Specifically, "punch", because reddit admins and AEO particularly have absolutely zero understanding of nuance or context.
The second was for this meme:
Someone in the comments got in their feelings about the "violent commentary" and reported it. The mods of that sub elevated it on my behalf, because, obviously, in no way was I threatening anyone. Unbeknownst to me, they also shortlisted me to become a mod should I apply afterward. I did and am. When I got banned for that one I don't remember the exact appeal message I sent but I DO remember calling the admins "a bunch of fucking blind idiots."
The third was actually for report abuse, which is interesting because I spent the better part of a few hours reporting comment after comment of transphobic dogshit about an open trans woman wrestler. I ended up reporting the post itself to the mods like "listen, a lot of people in these comment threads fucking SUCK" and I found out later that when the mods report a post for report abuse there is once again zero nuance or context considered from admins. :)
The latest one is the funniest. It's been like two months. I told a tankie in their ban """""appeal"""" that their pussy stinks and to shut up. They reported me for harassment.
That was close to 3 PM. It got overturned by 4:30 PM.
At this rate I will be getting permabanned from reddit on this same account at a rate of five times every half hour.
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20 questions for fic writers meme, tagged by @chubsthehamster -- thank you, friend! :D
1. How many works do you have on ao3?
42 at the moment
2. What’s your total ao3 word count?
269,795. Almost half of that is one fic though, lol
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Currently most active in Trigun, perennially/intermittently active in Nirvana in Fire, currently dormant in CritRole, and hiatus in Sandman. Interests wax and wane! And who knows what I'll discover next? Not me, that's for sure.
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
Mate, I write mostly gen fic. I'm not here for the numbers. A kudos means that a whole human being with thoughts of their own spent some of their precious moments on God's green earth reading my thoughts and kinda liked 'em.
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
I do! ...........eventually. sometimes several years later. And why? I dunno, it just feels polite? Also human connection, even digital. That's a thing.
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Probably Inference, but that's just because of the canonical main character death. Visitation Hours is bleak in implication, not in actual ending. My definition of "angst" does not always align with readers' definitions of "angst," which can be hilarious for me when I get weepy reactions on something I thought was relatively lighthearted.
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
I do 'equivocal' better than 'happy,' I think? The goal is emotional resolution or emotional discordance. Happy's incidental, which almost certainly means I don't write a lot of happy endings by the standard measure.
8. Do you get hate on fic?
Not hate so much as people who are belligerently confused? I get some bonkers fucking comments and anons sometimes, which I delete, a smattering of entitled weirdos, and a sprinkle of (typically unintentionally) back-handed compliments.
9. Do you write smut?
Nope! Suggestive, sure. Dirty language, if relevant. Implication, when called-for. Smut? Nope.
10. Do you write crossovers?
I have written a short series of crossovers between Machineries of Empire and Nirvana in Fire. Haven't written any since, but they're not off the table.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Yup! More plagiarism than theft in entirety, though. At least once had someone lift a whole scene, dialogue, phrasing and all, and claim it as their own with obvious intent to get mileage without credit. And I have happened upon recognizable lines from my fics in other fics enough times to have several nickles. I get miffed about the latter, but the charitable assumption is just that it was a phrase fresh in their minds/recalled without association.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Into Russian, I think? Godspeed, fanfic translators, the strongest of us all.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
I've co-written original stuff before, but I don't think I could ever do it again, original or fanfic. Not that it wasn't a pleasant experience at the time!
14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?
I don't have a favorite ship, but I do have a favorite dynamic, which is the mutual "you're the only motherfucker in this club who can handle me" a la that one Lorde tweet. The buckwildness has to be compatible, preferably complimentary. We're not talking enabling, though that can be part of it. It doesn't even have to be a ship. That grok/trust combination.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?
Look, I don't know what WIPs are going to get finished until I post them, okay?
16. What are your writing strengths?
I like character studies! And I feel like I am getting better at limited points of view, though they keep wanting to slide omniscient.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Same-hatting with @chubsthehamster here: plot. What the characters are doing in any given story is largely just to break up the dialogue and introspection. Things happening? They don't, sorry. Gotta work on this.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
For straight dialogue in another language, it's still dialogue, and it still has to serve the story, so if it makes more sense to drop it untranslated, drop it untranslated. If the reader needs to know what's being said, italics or paraphrase.
For mixed languages, it's totally situational and depends on the character, too. Did they just get back from an exchange program in France and they're insufferable about it? Are they a very new second language speaker? Are they an expat? A bilingual parent who wants their child to grow up speaking one language preferentially? An academic, or someone who learned their whole vocabulary based on a single vocation (ie: a doctor who can get by using Spanish in a medical scenario but not outside the clinic)? All of that is going to influence their speech pattern.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Nirvana in Fire!
20. Favourite fic you’ve written?
Just as interests wax and wane, I like some fics more and some less, and today's favorite could be tomorrow's cringe.
Please consider yourself tagged if you see this and would like to play! @ me, if you like!
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So I've emerged alive from my trip and I'm never taking that much again because it was a fucking rollercoaster. Here's some highlights (most of this is my best effort at transcription because my writing was practically unintelligible). Also ignore my weird posting times, my laptop is on California time.
I started gunposting to my best mate.
I posted that thing about the implications of the Cars universe.
My best mate woke up and I can't spell wobbegong.
I watched a Wendigoon conspiracy iceberg compilation that blew my mind.
Whatever this was.
I went down then and had some lucidity for a little while. Sent my beta some passages from Chapter 10. We started talking about lambs, and then we discussed ketamine.
I apparently had very bad nausea that I don't remember.
One point I blacked out and woke up without any pants on but I was wearing trunks when I came to. I was not wearing trunks when I took the shrooms. I have no idea when I decided to take off my daks and put trunks on. Apparently I took off my shirt and lounged in bed for a while because I woke up in bed without my shirt on.
I made meself a vegemite sandwich, which I don't remember making or eating but there's a dirty plate in my sink and vegemite stuck in my molars.
I had a dip and did some writing.
I crested again and there's about a half hour there where I blacked out and have no recollection of anything that happened.
I wrote "You're tripping BALLS" four times on my arm in increasingly messy handwriting. I only do this when I have a bad trip so I reckon the trip went south at some point. I have no memory of the bad part of the trip.
I apparently decided to start cleaning my rifle but I stopped halfway through and the bolt was left sitting on the seat at my table.
I went through my search history toward the end of the trip and I apparently blacklisted "ninjago" on Tumblr (also some other tags but that's the funniest one).
Here's my fun Google history.
I think I was looking for corkwood fruit here. Cured corkwood can ease nausea so that's probably it.
Priorities.
This is apparently when I started Carsposting.
More gungoogling.
I couldn't remember "MAS-38" so I looked this up instead. Really narrows it down.
I blame my best mate for getting me back into Warriors.
Started Googling knots.
I was hungry apparently.
Apparently there was a 20-minute gap where I read the comics and I got up to #4.
This happened.
I looked up this and found emojis for my Discord.
I saw a photo of a kangaroo, reblogged it, then when my mutual reblogged it FROM ME I thought it was the first time I was seeing that particular photo.
Told that same mutual this.
I've run out of images to post but I also:
Googled "how many raisins are toxic to a dog" twice. I called them "raisins" instead of "sultanas," also I don't have any sultanas. Apparently I'm more American when I'm high and more Australian when I'm drunk.
Googled "short story about a house with an aifrcan savanna" (It's The Veldt by Ray Bradbury)
Googled "fagot obliterator" 5 different times
Looked up "do irish catholcis pray the rosary" (I was raised Roman Catholic)
Looked up "plants grown in space" 3 different times
Watched this video.
Looked up "australian stock horse working" a million different times
Sent a picture to my best mate of two horses getting married
Looked up "smith and wesson model 10", "is meat low in calories", and "burj khalifa" all within 5 minutes of each other
Looked up "how to write twelve hundred"
Looked up "carbonara"
Looked up "birdshot for home defense" and misspelt "defence," "will birdshot kill someone," and then 2 minutes later "can dogs eat tomatoes"
Looked up "do you need a permit to hunt in texas," looked up "400 divided by 5," and then "let me in meme"
Looked up "110 times 2," "1974 minus 220," "when was superman created," "when was it revealed that superman came from krypton," "origin of superman" on Wikipedia, "what toxin is rattlesnake venom," "hemotoxin," "hemotoxin" on Wikipedia, "neurotoxin," then "neurotoxin" on Wikipedia all within 15 minutes
Looked up "fit man with a paunch" at one point
Looked up "dundil tree," "dundil," "peanut tee," "bush peanut," "kurrajong," and "Brachychiton populneus". I couldn't spell "apples" but I could spell Brachychiton populneus.
Then I started Googling apples.
Started Googling venomous Australian snakes.
Started Googling my own job.
Googled "zooper dooper"
Started wargoogling. "Weapons of the Ottoman Army," "Dardanelles gun," "gallipoli cannons," "trench gun gallipoli," "Periscope rifle," and "trench gun gallipoli" again
Googled "deep fried gherkin" followed by "beach chicken"
Googled "woodward and bernstein watergate guy," then clicked the Wikipedia article "Deep Throat (Watergate)" and I distinctly remember laughing at this for a solid 10 minutes.
Googled "sbk frenhc smg"
Googled tenor saxophones in Sydney
Googled "stevo" and "stevo australia," I don't know anyone named Stevo
Googled "what muscles does thrusting use" and then looked up "glutes muscles"
Googled "deltoids," visited Tumblr for a few minutes, then Googled "muscles of the torso"
Have no idea what the fuck this was supposed to mean.
Apparently my writing was very hard to understand but my best mate said it was fun hearing what was on my mind, to which I replied "i jave mo f8lter and i mist scram" and then requested she put that on my gravestone when I die.
I also said "i dive okt of rjd plane saxton jale sutyle and oand on kakadu and immediatley get eaten ny a corcidle" which I think was supposed to say "I dive out of a plane Saxton Hale style and land in Kakadu and immediately get eaten by a crocodile."
At one point said "I DONT WANT TO DOE AT 43 I LLNE OLD" which I think was supposed to say "I don't want to die at 43, I'll be old."
Then I blacked out for the next two hours and fell asleep at some point.
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Info: So I was watching the movie and I was just like, 'Gee, Kirk's sure getting knocked around a lot, I wonder how he's still standing?' BECAUSE I MEAN JUST- Let's list what I remember.
1) Was whammied by McCoy and his medical voodoo.
2) Was further whammied by really goddamn severe allergic reactions to said voodoo (even if it was hilarious at the time.)
3) SKYDIVING FUN TIEMZ and fighting on the Giant Drill of Death.
4) Vulcan nerve pinch, osnaps.
5) Was deserted on a fucking freezing planet, chased by a bigass Cloverfield monster, rolled down a huge snowbank and ran for his life across cracking ice.
6) Unexpected mind rape meld.
7) Had the crap beaten out of him and was choked half to death by Spock.
8) Had the crap beaten out of him by Romulans who (they're related to Vulcans, right?) are probably x100 times as strong as humans. Strangled again.
9) From what I can guess, little to no sleep for anywhere from 24 to 72 hours.
10) HE WAS RUNNING A WHOLE LOT, I mean the man must have been goddamn exhausted.
11) Mental stress from A) the destruction of a whole fucking planet, B) the loss of almost the entirety Starfleet Academy cadets (probably including the green chick he'd been 'friendly' with), C) memories he might have picked up from Spock Prime about the life he never lived and might never have, plus the severe the emotional backlash from the meld and D) ALL OF THAT GODDAMN STRESS. Srsly.
So what I would like is a post-movie fic where Kirk, after the adrenaline wears off (this can be immediately after they escape the pull of the anomaly or hours or even a day later, I don't care) completely crashing. Like, having a conversation one minute and falling flat on your face the next type crashing. Because really, the human body isn't made to withstand a beating like that without requiring some recuperation time.
McCoy/Kirk, Spock/Kirk, Spock/Kick/McCoy or Spock/Kirk/Uhura is preferred. Hurt/comfort is a must. Bonus points if there's concerned!Uhura finally demonstrating even the slightest sliver of respect for Kirk after everything he did. Even more bonus points for concerned!McCoy snark. :D
I don't know it's appropriate for a kink meme, but I'd really rather the focus be on the hurt/comfort and characters than the on sex, if there's any sex at all. I leave that up to the author.
...hopefully that wasn't too specific. BUT I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER SRSLY. I don't know why Kirk whump is so addictive. He just bruises so pretty, IDEK. (thread)
Fill: 1/3
Author: Kain_was_Here
Archive Link
Fill: 2/3 + Journal
Author: Kei_Rin
Archive Link
Fill: 3/3
Author: Zinfic
Archive Link
Plus bonus fic's mentioned in comments:
One + Archive
Two + Archive
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so, I’ve never seen the Twilight movies before
this is very important to share to everyone, I promise, to explain the mental turmoil I’ve been in, in the last month
so I’ve never seen twilight. it came out while I was in high school and I was very Against Mainstream back then. didn’t want to see the “sparkling vampires” everyone was really into joking about. didn’t wanna subject myself to a series that everyone around me seemed to agree was terrible fiction
I went all through high school only having accidentally seen that one scene from Breaking Dawn Part 2. you know the one, The CGI Baby Gets Imprinted On scene
then the Twilight Renaissance happened last year
something that I used to passively dislike became Meme Central. and it was fucking hilarious. the tiktok reactions, the tumblr posts. all the pictures of Edward covering his mouth in Biology class because Bella walked in front of a fan. the fucking baseball scene. it was a cultural reset
then Battison movie came out. I saw it with one of my best friends, a dear friend who had grown up seeing and reading the Twilight books. we game together every friday, and on one of these game nights, sharing the Twilight memes, I revealed that I had never actually seen the movies
this, to her, was a cultural sin
so we agreed to watch the movies. all of them. one movie every friday during August 2022 (the timing is key to my story, you’ll see in a moment). it was glorious. and painful. and boring. and hilarious. we did skip a lot of the last movie because the baby cgi was a little freaky, but the bestie would explain what I missed. they’ve seen them multiple times. I couldn’t phathom seeing them again willingly
but then we finished the last movie. I went home
and I opened ao3
now, it should go without saying, this is where the “explain the mental turmoil I’ve been in, in the last month” actually begins. you know who burrowed like a little show blorbo inside my brain matter? no, it wasn’t any of the main characters
it was daddy dear. mister blond bimbo. Carlisle Cullen
I read so much Twilight fanfic about Carlisle. there was a day where I actually stayed up 36 hours, reading 2 100k fics, pausing to go to work, and then going back to finishing it. I was unhinged. I think I lost a fraction of my eyesight
I read everything there was to my interests and curiosities. the obsession was quenched
and then I opened up a google doc
and in a haze, 4 hours later, I had written 7k of Something
and then the next day, it became 10k. and then the next time I could focus to write, it became 12k
on and on it grew, until two weeks later, it was done. a 34k monstrosity, half of which I don’t remember writing
and today, I uploaded it. because why suffer alone? I’ll subject others to my madness too
this fic is the most unhinged, most unbelievable thing I’ve ever written. there’s vampire worship. there’s blood feeding, religious bloodletting, human fanatical suicide and whole lot of vampire gore and death. there’s vampire gods, and a threesome.
I don’t even know if I’m proud, horrified, or relieved. to have the brainrot publicized. my next post is still gonna be the fic share link 💀
now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a tropical storm outside and I need to sleep for 3 days
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I posted 1,194 times in 2022
12 posts created (1%)
1,182 posts reblogged (99%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@carryingthebanner
@mysandwichranaway
@cold-butter-warm-toast
@hotcocoandmarshmallows
@shippingcannons
I tagged 554 of my posts in 2022
#newsies - 144 posts
#jack kelly - 52 posts
#newsies shitpost - 38 posts
#davey jacobs - 34 posts
#percy jackson - 26 posts
#lord of the rings - 22 posts
#important - 22 posts
#newsies fanart - 21 posts
#fansies - 21 posts
#tumblr culture - 19 posts
Longest Tag: 138 characters
#i’m currently in a room with 11 other people who are presumably asleep and will be for another hour and a half so i can’t listen to it now
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
This is a tumblr hug, or a tumblr high five, or a tumblr sitting in the same room together, pass it on to your ten favorite followers or mutuals <3
AYYYYYY THANK YOU BESTIE! Right back at you! I saw your other ask too, you're so sweet <3
1 note - Posted August 10, 2022
#4
crash
2 notes - Posted April 1, 2022
#3
Ok now I'm curious to see which newsie you associate ME with
Okay so I went to look through your blog and the very first thing I saw screaming lady and cat meme and so my brain instantly said Race but then then the very first couple posts were about how nice it is when someone's open about how much they care about you and giving someone the bigger or better part of something you're sharing because you love them and so I'm gonna say you're Jojo.
I've always seen him as a bit of a jokester and always trying to make people laugh, but he's also the sweetest guy ever and one of the first people to know if someone is having a bad day. Basically, I think you're really cool!
2 notes - Posted February 22, 2022
#2
for the newsies association, either kath or finch!
Ooooo interesting! I am very honored that I remind you of our queen, her majesty Katherine Pulitzer Plumber! And Finch is cool too, I never would have thought about that! We stan our bird man
2 notes - Posted February 21, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Sprace Royal Wedding AU (Let me know if anyone has an idea for a good title!)
@gendistic42 Here is your fic for @newsiesgiftexchange! I absolutely LOVED your prompt! This was my first time writing an au, so I hope you like it. It's also important to note that this fic isn't finished yet because it is going to become my first ever series! Updates will probably be sporadic, but shall be made with love so hopefully that counts lol I'm so glad I got to be a part of this! Without further ado, here is the first part of *Inset Title Here That I Will Come Up With Later!* I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Spot was pissed. He'd always known that one day he was going to have to marry someone who was chosen for him, someone that he wouldn't have much time to get to know, and given his track record, likely someone he wouldn't even like. All the same, to find out that Denton had chosen someone without even talking to him first made him angry.
Denton had been his father's advisor before he died. He'd practically raised Spot and while it was safe to say he was one of the only people Spot actually loved, they two didn't always get along very well. Denton wanted to make sure that Spot would be ready to rule when the time came. Seeing as how his father had died years ago, he would be crowned king as soon as he turned 18, leaving him with far less time to prepare than most had. Spot had watched Denton rule as the Lord Protector, learning all he could from him, until he effectively took over at 16. It was a hard life and while Spot often wished it had been passed to someone else, he wanted the best for his people and wasn't willing to risk turning over his kingdom to someone who didn't care about it as much as he did.
Spot's inevitable marriage was one of the most common debates between the him and Denton. It always started the same way. Denton would ask if Spot had thought any more about one suitor or another, Spot would get defensive over all the other things he had been working on lately till Denton pointed out that Spot was using that as an excuse to avoid thinking about it. Spot would get angry, Denton would yell back and they'd fight till Spot inevitably stormed from the room to lock himself away in his office for hours on end. They always made up quickly, they couldn't afford not to, and they both understood the other's position. The last argument had ended with Spot telling Denton to just find someone for him so that he didn't have to think about it anymore.
Sitting in his office, Spot now regretted telling Denton to decide without him. Spot realized that while he trusted Denton to try not to doom him to a miserable life, he had given up what little choice he'd had in finding someone to marry. Knowing Denton, it was likely someone serious, stoic, and far to boring for Spot's taste. Someone who could help him run his kingdom well, but probably not someone he would want to spend his life with.
Most of the reason why Spot loathed the idea of an arranged or political marriage, though he would never be caught dead admitting it, was that he wanted to have a chance to actually fall in love with someone. He wanted the chance to admire them from across the hall, for his friend's to tease him whenever his crush walked in the room. He wanted to ask them on a date and go to the movies or watch the stars together talking about everything and nothing. He wanted to hold their hand and watch their face light up when they talked about their passions. He wanted to make pancakes on a Sunday morning while his partner cooed over their kid in the living room. He wanted so many things that he'd never get the chance for.
Spot jumped as his phone vibrated next to him. Looking down he saw the name lighting up the screen. Of course Davey would be calling him. Spot had known Davey Jacobs for as long as he could remember. The Jacobs family had always been granted nobility back when Spot's grandmother had been queen for their ongoing efforts to align the monarchy with the needs and feelings of the people. Ever since the family had been both politicly active and well loved by most of the nation. Because of their close relations with the royal family, Davey, Sarah, and Spot had practically grown up with each other. Spot wasn't always sure if Les knew that he was technically his future king, but Spot didn't care for Les to ever see him as anything other than his older brother's stressed out friend.
He huffed and ran a hand down his face before declining the call and going back to the document he had been trying to distract himself with earlier. Not five seconds later his phone lit up again. Groaning he declined the call again, unlocking his phone and typing out a text before the young politician could call him another time. Just as he was about to send it, that damned picture of a smiling, gap toothed 8 year old Davey took over his screen again.
"Davey what the fuck do you want?"
"Wow, Denton said it was bad but I didn't expect that," Davey's languid and amused voice gave away that Spot's reaction was exactly what he had expected.
Spot gritted his teeth a took a deep breath before he responded.
"Jacobs, I swear, you'd better have something real important to say."
"Dude you just got engaged and you don't even know who it is. You literally told your dad to choose someone for you."
Only a handful of people knew that Spot would often refer to Denton as his dad. Given that his actually father had been the king and was now dead, it would have been considered disrespectful of him to refer to anyone else as his father, even though the former king had never had much of a hand in raising Spot in the first place.
"Yes, which is why you had better say something interesting in the next five seconds or I'm hanging up, I've got work I was doing before you called!"
"Uh huh, because you were definitely focused on that and not on your future husband," Spot could hear Davey rolling his eyes through the phone.
After a moment of silence, Davey huffed slightly before speaking again.
"Look Spot, how about I come over tonight. I don't want you stewing around your office and don't say you're working, we both know you aren't gonna get anything done like this. Let's just watch a movie, maybe sleep out on the balcony and talk. You need some time to process this."
Spot sighed before answering. "Ya know what Dave, you pick out the movie and I'll cover snacks."
"I'll be there in 20 minutes."
Spot laughed, "You'd better, Jacobs."
20 notes - Posted January 1, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
#tumblr2022#year in review#my 2022 tumblr year in review#your tumblr year in review#I love how I hardly posted anything at all whoops#Okay but I’ve been thinking about the sprace royal wedding au thing lately how are we feeling about that one boys? Should I revisit it?#Also the bestie being my top reblogged#Celeste my beloved
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I posted 1,362 times in 2022
That's 197 more posts than 2021!
251 posts created (18%)
1,111 posts reblogged (82%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@summonshadcw
@darklinaserver
@rphelperblog
@leneemusing
@vvilla1n
I tagged 958 of my posts in 2022
Only 30% of my posts had no tags
#r: like calls to like - 341 posts
#tag: meme your heart out - 148 posts
#summonshadcw - 116 posts
#tag: ooc - 100 posts
#verse: the grand duchess and the general - 79 posts
#verse: rulers of ravka - 79 posts
#verse: gift of three - 60 posts
#an-endless-saga - 56 posts
#vvilla1n - 39 posts
#muse: alina starkov - 38 posts
Longest Tag: 91 characters
#rulers of ravka verse? because i adore them and the divergence we made from siege and storm
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
@summonshadcw
Ten minutes.
Ever since Alina first began practicing under Aleksander Morozova she’d been diligent with arriving early and prepared to begin. Now she was pushing ten minutes late and perhaps even longer if people didn’t move.
The Os Alta foot traffic seemed to be more compact than usual that afternoon. Alina weaved in and out of people without care as she all but sprinted into the studio.
“I’m sorry,” were the first words past her lips upon arriving.
“The C train was delayed and I thought it’d be quicker on foot.”
Honestly an Uber would’ve served her better, but it was too late for that. “I only meant to meet with Mal for an hour, but it’s just been so long since we’ve seen each other I lost track of time-“
Alina unwound the red scarf from her neck before unbuttoning her coat.
“- and before I knew it we’d been sitting in the cafe for two hours.”
Out of breath, she looked toward Aleksander with delayed sheepishness.
“It won’t happen again.”
Could he truly fault her? At only twenty-one she was a member of the renowned Os Alta Royal Opera. The company was by no means an easy one to join, and sopranos were a dime a dozen. Every day she thanked the Saints, fate, or the universe itself for allowing her a spot in the chorus. It was rare that she had time for enjoyable social events among her friends not in the opera world.
10 notes - Posted April 27, 2022
#4
(continued from here) @summonshadcw
There had only been two attempts made upon her during their forty year reign. The first was five years after her coronation, made by a man who’d claimed to see visions of Sankta Magda in which he was urged to free ‘Sankta Alina’. The man had supposed death among the Saints was preferable to a life at the side of the Black Tsar, and shot at her while she was mingling with her subjects in Os Alta. The event hadn’t sunk in until later that evening when Alina found herself shaking like a leaf in the bath.
The second was earlier that day while on her way back from opening a new school outside the city limits. Alina found it odd to think that people would want her present at such a thing; she’d lived years as the ‘Sun Saint’ and still found the idea that she was anything special ridiculous. Yet such duties befell the Queen of Ravka, duties that had often be ignored by the previous Lantsov queen. The Grisha and oprichniki that accompanied her stopped in order to fix the axle of one of the carriages when a man appeared at the edge of the forest that bordered the road. The bullet hadn’t gotten anywhere near her as one of the Heartrenders incapacitated the assassin, yet the mere experience left her rattled. She hadn’t been told much about the man’s motives upon his arrest, yet it appeared that hatred of her kind was among his thoughts.
Alina rubbed at her temples with her hand, the other holding a half filled glass of kvas. “Don’t tease me,” she warned Aleksander at his comment on the number of years. “Not now.”
She set aside the glass when he neared her, preferring to bring her knees to her chest in order to wrap her arms around her legs. Curled up in her nightdress before the fire, she certainly looked more like the former Orphan of Kermazin than she did Tsaritsa of Ravka.
“Because I know why you do what you do,” she responded cryptically. “Not all of it, mind you, but most of it.” Her arms tightened near painfully around her legs.
“That man hates me, hates us, and I hadn’t even seen his face before today.”
Her expression darkened as her gaze drifted toward the fire in the grate. “Now I hate him.”
Alina had pled for mercy for the first assassin, knowing that he couldn’t have been in his right mind. But this man? This man would receive no such intervention from her.
12 notes - Posted March 21, 2022
#3
@summonshadcw
The ballroom was too stuffy, the bodice of her new gown too stiff, and the weight of the night’s expectations too heavy. Alina’s first Season wasn’t the nightmare she expected it to be, but neither was it pure bliss. It seemed that the Duchess Keramsov, the frivolous wife of her equally frivolous guardian, was enjoying the Season more than the young debutante. The last Alina saw her the woman was rosy cheeked from drink and gossiping with a crowd of biddies. The duchess did not need to put up with the curious glances and evaluating looks made by members of the ton; an unwed foreign heiress was something of interest.
Alina raised her glass of champagne to her lips, catching sight of the dance card attached to her wrist. The last gentleman she danced with remarked upon her charming accent and grasp of her new country’s language. The comments had sounded more patronizing than appreciative, leaving her with a longing to retreat to the familiar.
The young woman made to set down her empty glass on a table when her arm brushed that of another.
“Pardon me, sir,” she said, eyes raising to meet the stranger’s.
14 notes - Posted April 2, 2022
#2
@vvilla1n
Alina never wished to see another train or carriage for as long as she lived. Her journey began in Keramzin, where she took a hired stagecoach from the orphanage of her childhood to a train station. A trip across the country brought her nearly to her new home. Yet another stagecoach carried her to the town where she was to meet her intended husband. Alina wished to simply stand on solid ground for a few moments to appreciate the stillness.
Crammed in the stagecoach, stuck next to a loud-mouthed matron who had not stopped talking since they left the train station, Alina tried her best to keep her cool. She all but flew out of the coach when it came to a stop in town, eager to get out of the confinement of vehicle. One of the drivers alighted from the front bench in order to remove Alina’s trunk from atop the coach. What little she owned was contained within, as well as the linens and meager items she could claim as a dowry. She didn’t come from much, and had made that plain to her intended.
Few options were given to her upon aging out of the orphanage. It had been an act of charity by Ana Kuya and the Duke to allow her to stay till the ripe old age of 21, even if she did work at the establishment to earn her keep. With Mal having gone into the army, answering an ad for a wife from a man living on the frontier hadn’t been the craziest of ideas.Alina stood under the wooden overhang of the stagecoach depot, shielded from the strong sun as she awaited the arrival of Aleksander Morozova. She’d included a sketch of herself in one of her letters to him, knowing she hadn’t the money for a daguerreotype. His description of himself was what she used as she nervously scanned the passerby.
20 notes - Posted May 2, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Netflix, are you alright?
32 notes - Posted August 29, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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