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#i love that we as a fandom agree on this one lol

navstuffs · 3 days

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Tag, you are on it!

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Summary: Miguel finds you and Gabriella playing on the backyard. Based on the comic Tag - Pixie and Brutus by @pet_foolery

Warning tags: domestic bliss, fluff, happiness, feel good type, my bad attempt on writing comedy lol

Author's Notes: after being obsessed with this man over a year, i finally joined the fandom (its never too late i guess). hope you enjoy your reading!

Miguel arrives home exhausted from work, taking off his coat and loosening his tie. What an awful day! Between deadlines not being respected and useless meetings taking far too long, Miguel had to stay late to finish a sudden important project. He was fortunate enough to have you pick Gabriella up from school.

You met Gabriella after five months of dating Miguel(and almost two years of knowing each other). "A friend," Miguel explained the first time you met, nervous about his little girl's reaction—a sentiment you also shared, way more desperate for her approval.

Everything went so well; even Miguel felt a little jealous of you, watching his daughter gravitate in your personal space the entire night. Especially when, before you left, he noticed Gabriella waving so you could kneel on her level. She covered your ears with her small hands, whispering as you nodded. Miguel observed quite anxiously, his eyes focused on any reaction. You just opened an enigmatic smirk as if you were teasing him that you could win his daughter so quickly.

Three months after this, Gabriella suddenly asked on a Saturday morning why you hadn't moved in yet, almost causing Miguel to drop the breakfast plate with scrambled eggs he had prepared. You and Miguel tried to explain that you still haven't talked about it yet, and adults can be complicated sometimes.

Besides being Gabriella's new favorite play partner, Miguel hadn't tried to insert you into their daily routine. Not because he didn't trust you, just...Miguel just had to take things slower. His main priority would always be Gabriella, her well-being and happiness. Inserting you into their routine would make it hard for both if you and him didn't work out. And you agreed, understanding as you always were: Gabriella should always be the top priority.

As it happened on one of your previous dates when the nanny called, informing Gabriella had gotten a sudden fever and had puked once. You urged Miguel to leave, telling him you would solve everything at the restaurant. Miguel was so surprised when you appeared in the house thirty minutes late, still dressed in your date clothes, with anxious eyes on the little girl in his arms. You stayed that night, ensuring to leave only after Gabriella's fever got down as she slept in your arms - when she heard your voice, she opened her arms begging for you to hold her.

Gabriella was already too attached, and Miguel was too much in love. That's why he was still unsure when he asked you to pick her up.

When Miguel hears Gabriella's giggle from the backyard, his heart instantly warms. Your capacity to make her laugh made him jealous before. Now, it only makes him fall in love with you even harder. To think there was ever a time Miguel was terrified of what would happen if Gabriella didn't like you.

He follows his favorite sound in the world, his body relaxing. You two seem to be playing tag: Gabriella never seems to catch you, but she doesn't seem to mind just having fun as you run away in the middle of his vast backyard, both barefoot. Miguel slowly joins his daughter, kneeling on her side as she hugs him tightly, all sweaty. "Papi! We are playing a tag game."

"I noticed."

"I don't seem to be able to tag back, though," Gabriella replies, confused in her innocence. As if she could with her small legs. You are still turned around from them, probably catching your breath, unaware of Miguel's presence yet. An idea pops on his mind.

"Tag me."

"What?"

"Tag me." Miguel offers his hand, opening a smile. Gabriella opens a big grin, tagging him.

"So, have you given up, Gabi?" You, still in the middle of the backyard, turn around with a playful smile. It completely disappears from your face as you watch Gabriella tag Miguel instead, your boyfriend slowly raising. A dangerous smile on his lips warning you to run.

You only have one second to react, too slow already, as Miguel starts sprinting in your direction as Gabriella encourages him, excited. Your lungs complain as you run away from him, feeling Miguel hot at your heels. It is the only time you will probably curse his long and strong legs.

You give a quick look over your shoulder, panicking. Miguel has that intense, wild look in his eyes, the one you see when he is determined to get what he wants: to get you. You ignore how your body feels and wonder if you shouldn't just jump in the pool (what a joke, Miguel was a great swimmer as well).

"Behind you." It is the last thing you hear before Miguel pounces on you, managing to do it gently to a round of cheers from Gabriella.

You both fall to the floor, and Miguel turns you around with a frown. "Were you going to jump in the pool?"

"Who, me? Nooo. So you could swim and catch me?!"

"Liar! You were about to jump in the pool!"

"As a distraction, only! You would have jumped straight after me anyway."

"Oh, I would have." He is serious, you know that.

With his body thoroughly pressed against yours, you hug him, "Missed you. How was work?"

“Terrible. As always.”

"As always." You agree, watching his expression change. Miguel suddenly becomes aware of how your body is pressed against his, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. He tries to get away from you, but you don't let him, your arms locking him down, a malicious smile on your face.

"Don't…"

"I am not doing anything."

"Not in front of-"

"Miguel, I am not doing anything!" You giggle, the sensation of a victory spreading against your chest. "You know, I wouldn't do anything in front of-"

You both look toward where Gabriela was standing before to find nothing there. Before you two can even untangle, Gabriella jumps on her father's back, startling you both.

"Tag!"

She immediately jumps away, giggling as she runs inside the house. Miguel sighs, not before your hand cups his cheek so you can look at him. "I will keep her company. It is fine."

"I don't want to impose-"

"Miguel, it is not an imposition. She likes me better anyway."

Miguel gets up from the floor, helping you stand as you watch Gabriella hide behind the sofa, her messy hair and eyes peeking out.

"Are you going to…stay?" Miguel wonders, his tone soft.

"Of course I will. Maybe we can repeat this tag game after Gabriella is asleep?" You offer, bluntly teasing him. "With much less clothes."

You smirk, watching Miguel's mouth drop open. Gabriella calls your name again and you give him a peck on the cheek, before running away to her direction.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfics #miguel o'hara comedy #miguel o'hara fanfiction #writing for a new fandom when i can barely deal with tons of wips? WE HAVE IT

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randomnameless · 13 days

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To continue the woobified view of the Elites and my comparison of them to the Black Eagles :

Same for me regarding the BE, especially because they also literally fought Edelgard's troops in WC when you choose their house, and even if you don't, they definitely still would know that Edelgard dus nasty shits in WC.

The idea that media literacy is dead is quite fitting, because the idea that even rotten persons have loved ones/that having loved ones doesn't mean you're not rotten is a known thing, yet the Eagles and elites get a pass solely because "they genuinely believe in the cause" and "they love and care for each other"

Probably Fraldarius was as devoted to Nemesis as Ingrid to Dimitri, Lamine very well may have been as sassy as Dorothea, perhaps Goneril was as brave and endearing as Caspar, or Maurice was as loyal to his clan's interests as Petra to Brigid's happiness (through a strong bond to the Empire) but like the BE, they are butchers, who relished in the destruction of everything those against them hold dear, lap dogs and rabid curs of someone they definitely know have crushed innocents and scorn the very idea of peace except under their domination.

The only meaningful difference between Edelgard-following BE and the elites is that we can know more about the BE and we are forced to dislike cutting them down even as they refuse to let northern Fódlan alone.

Honestly I need a fanfiction where the BE are called out for that bullshit.

Yep!

That's the tone deaf feeling I got from Nopes, the Deers are hunting someone bcs their leader wants her dead for no reason, but Raph only comments on how hungry he is.

Uh, sure Raph, you're not the most thoughtful character in there, but come on? Some commentary or exposition on what you're doing? Hello KT? Can we have characters be challenged or even react to the events of screen instead of wondering what's for dinner/teatime?

No??

I wouldn't say it's an issue of media litteracy being dead, but more something in the lines of people being more and more "all or nothing" nowadays, without any nuance and conflating liking a character with the idea/image that might project on you : if I like ASOIAF's Cersei, I don't think everything she does is "justified", but modern fandom, I feel like some people would categorize you as a "good" or "bad" person based on the characters you like, and it's just... not what fandom is or was supposed to be imo, I'm here to nerd and gush about favourite characters, not write litteral essays about the Geneva Convention.

Corollary is what, imo, made the Fodlan fandom hell : some people really take "criticism" against a character personally - sure the way FE16 was written invites projection, but at the end of the day, making a Berning Fire Joke is, just, making a joke about a bunch of pixels, nothing more.

Back to the BEs, they can have a sense of camaraderie and genuinely support each other... as they tear apart "people because Supreme Leader told me to" and fight side by side with Bob the Carpented who was turned into Waldi the demonic beast.

Ferdie can skewer Flayn on her father's lance because she is "a creature that has plagued humanity for ages" even if they reached a C support before shit hit the fan - and still protect Mercedes and Bernie from their abusing Fathers. Does that make him a great guy? A nuanced guy?

I think the trope is called "even evil people have loved ones" or something like that?

I don't think so, but he is no random one note villain sycophant either - now, what is the more annoying with the Fodlan games is how this dichotomy is never called upon : everything is just a giant blob or Hresvelg Grey ("morally grey" but only applied to Supreme Leader) where no one really is angry at her, and all the "sacrifices" she's making are off-screen while the characters on-screen always moan about her "ReFoRmS" and "IdEaLs" without talking about the cost bar some milquetoast "but war bad". And no one, in the game, will ever throw this hypocrisy to their face - Gallant Ferdinand will dream about the Opera as he wipes off the blood of a young woman who just wanted to return to the only home she had.

Yay.

FWIW, some mutuals and I have nothing but pure lols about Doro's line in the non-CF routes being "we killed Ferdie professor :'(" because, hey, why should I care more about Ferdie than about random loldier 55 ? Rhea? Felix? Claude? Ignatz?

Maybe the Elites were really friends and became """"nice""" persons with time, to their families and loved ones ?

Does this magically erase what they did before? Will that "good" they did erase all the "wrongs" they have previously done? Will theyr forever escape the consequences of their actions?

In a game that depicts Flamey as a terrorist for 11 chapters only to drop that plot point by the window to moan, again, about her "IdEaLs", "consequences" are maybe something you can eat as a snack, or throw in a trashcan.

So following the rules of this verse, given how Supreme Leader never receives flak for her Flamey stunts, why should the Elites receive any for what they did? Look, Maurice calls Daphnel his friend, surely he is not that bad of a man? Well yeah, he might have seduced women and planted a lot of wild oats here'n'there, but he cares about his friends!

Jeritza likes ice creams and cats! Surely it's more important to paint him as a cat lover than to deal with all the consequences of his stunt as the Death Knight, kidnapping and implied rekting young woman while he was in GM, under Flamey's orders, right?

Calling it now, after eviscerating Seteth's older brother, Goneril might have melted in front of one of Rhea's kittens, and adopted the cat asap. Surely that makes Goneril a "good" character right? And forget the entire "genocided a bunch of hippies living isolated in their village" stuff?

I don't have fanfics recs where the BEs are called hypocrites, but I confess I don't read a lot of fanfics in the FE16 fandom because of all of the aforementioned issues.

#maelor321 #replies #i don't even know if i replied to your ask lol #i disgressed and ranted #fandom woes #FE16 was designed as a game where you'd feel bad for fighting against 'your loved ones' aka precious students #the writing and execution is so artificial that they couldn't even make it believable for a second #so instead we are hit with giant signposts that read 'plz be sad now'#like Doro's we killed Ferdie sad uwus #or even Billy's choice in SS/VW of i don't want to kill Supreme Leader/I want to walk with her uwu #she is revealed to be Flamey she has been warring for 5 long years she caught Rhea #she had so many randoms peons killed #and yet the game has the nerve to give us this?#evening salt #SW!Anakin loves his fiancee so much uwu #sure he murders a bunch of babies and toddlers but don't you want to walk with him to create a galactic empire and kill #people who don't agree with him? including his beloved wife?#people conflate nuance and 'grey' with 'my fave did nothing wrong'

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mobius-m-mobius · 5 months

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I know I am wildly late to this observation, but I just rewatched Thor for the first time in a very long while, and. I'd genuinely forgotten that at the start Thor is headed down a path at least as dark as Loki's? I mean Loki is making very extremely bad choices, but Thor isn't exactly less horrifying with his whole jumping straight to the 'lets "break the spirit" of an entire realm by murdering as many of them as it takes' shtick. And it's just so clearly laid out that the divergent paths they are on by the end of the first film isn't illustrative of some inherent difference in their natures or predetermined by choices they'd made before the film started. The difference is that Thor gets the opportunity to love and be loved by people outside the skewed and insulated world he grew up in, to be loved without strings attached, and discovers that the friends he had all along loved him more unconditionally, aside from his power and conquests, than he'd realized. While Loki learns that their father attaches all sorts of strings to his love, and 'learns' (somewhat truthfully with regard to Odin I think, though not with Thor or Frigga), that the love he had from them was always conditional, mitigated, based on lies and offered to a version of himself that never existed.

And I just—my point isn't 'you can't blame him for his war crimes 'cause he was sad', just that. Man it really was about love from the very beginning!!!

(P.S. I sent you an inordinately long series of messages about s1 Loki a couple weeks back, and your response was delightful, and added excellent points—just wanted to say that you; that was lovely of you, and I really appreciate how kind you always are on this blog!!)

Hey there anon, lovely to hear from you again! Thank you so much for your own kind words and taking the time to send another message! Your previous ones were a wonderful read as is this and as far as I'm concerned there's no such thing as being late to anything that isn't already scheduled, especially regarding media or fandom when there's a chance to discover someone/something new around every corner 💖💖

(Case in point how unexpected getting this captivated by a Marvel series was for me, which I only bring up because, well... quick disclaimer, I have an understanding of everything that happened in phase 1 but haven't exactly seen any of the Thor movies or until a few weeks into the airing of Loki had any real exposure to anything Marvel/Loki related between the original Avengers movie and then, which ironically I love because the moment S1 kicks off Loki's journey is where my perspective starts as well!)

As Loki mentioned many times previously, Thor truly wasn't ready to rule back then (not that Loki was either, lol) and you're not only exactly right about them both going down dark paths but I see Thor's view as worse considering he grew up surrounded by a level of confidence in companionship Loki never knew. The attack on Jotunheim pretty much says it all when Thor didn't hesitate to use hurt pride as an excuse to kill as many Frost Giants as possible, then after getting an entire war kicked off all Thor's friends were actually angrier with Loki for letting news of their visit get back to Odin despite the fact that they would've all been killed otherwise 🙃

Odin not being the best father to either of them is an understatement but there are unspoken conditions to his interactions with and love for Loki specifically due to his birth that (by nature of what an imposing figure Odin is) would almost subliminally impact everyone within range so I can't even imagine growing up in the midst of that and having no idea of the real cause, though I don't doubt Frigga's love for him or that the Thor of now wants them to be equals. It really does all come back to love from beginning to end, and makes it all the more important that Loki finally found that love and acceptance beyond his wildest dreams in Mobius so here we are now just waiting for them to find their way back to each other :')

#yes i'm aware of the universe audibly laughing at me as i devote my life to a marvel property lol #all bc of silver dilf owen wilson. the mcu knew mine and loki's weakness was a time bureaucrat with a heart of gold before we did 😔🙏#and ty again for the ask!! i might not know quite as much about things outside the loki series but love learning about them in comparison #just previously had little mcu interest and now very limited free time that only goes towards watching owen related media 😂#but i completely agree with all the points you made and have interestingly noticed they're ones not often acknowledged in the fandom #also always appreciate so much when anyone thinks of me when something about the show or anything else is on their mind!!#sending lots of love your way towards an amazing weekend! 💕#ask

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ppeonppeonhan · 4 months

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The Sexiest 2023 BL Scenes

I think we can all agree that there is an art to executing a sex scene -- and not everybody's an artist. This year, we (and, by that, I mean you) gif'd a couple of masterpieces that range from romantic to...educational. Here are the ones that live in my head rent free, in order of PG-13 to NC-17:

BEST ROLE-PLAY SEX: Bed Friend

If you had told me last year that incorporating cat ears into foreplay would result in one of the hottest scenes in BL, I would've given you bombastic side-eye. But James, the actor who plays Uea, pulled it off, and is probably responsible for a lot of Amazon orders till this day. (Episode 6)

BEST BEACH-SIDE SEX: The Eighth Sense

This entire sequence was so beautifully lit in golden tones, with soft touches, and romantic moments. It almost made you forget about the depression plot. Almost. (Episode 6)

LONG-AWAITED SEX: Hidden Agenda

Joke yearned for Zo in a way that was borderline comical. From the moment Zo kissed Joke like he was trying to give him CPR and then promptly shoved him out of his apartment, I knew every kiss after that would have to come with a parental warning. I'm surprised Joke didn't move in. (Episode 8)

DO-OVER SEX: Love Class 2

The music for this sex scene was so perfectly matched with the caressing and hand closeups. And the fact that it happened after the initially-ghosted Joo Hyuk got Sung Min to reconsider made it even sweeter. (Episode 9)

BEST WET SEX SCENE: Kiseki: Dear to Me

I may have enjoyed Ai Di and Chen Yi's love story more, but Fan Ze Rui and Bai Zong Yi were helping us all live out our tall boy fantasies. When he mounted him with a soft bounce, I knew the gif Gods would giveth. (Episode 7)

BEST EUPHORIC SEX: Only Friends

Ray looked like he reached nirvana when he made love to Sand in that sardine can of trailer, so of all their sex scenes, this was my fave. (Episode 9)

BEST INSECURITY-INDUCED SEX: Only Friends

Say what you will about Boston -- and the fandom has said a lot lol -- but if you had to choose a cast member to get you off, you'd choose him in a heartbeat. And yes, this scene was grimey. He f*cked his friend's potential boyfriend in the backseat of his car after manipulating him into believing he was cheated on, but can you blame him? He was probably tired of always having to give and never receive. Plus, Top did this vibrating move that made me wonder who told Force to do that... (Episode 3)

GIF by wanderlust-in-my-soul

BEST CENSORED SEX: Wedding Plan

I'm still mad that this scene wasn't in the Youtube cut. It paints an entirely different picture of their dynamic and their personalities. But thank God for the gif'ers, otherwise I would've missed how ravenous they were when they weren't...wedding planning. 😳 (Episode 6)

BEST WHIPLASH SEX: Be Mine Superstar

To be clear, WE were the ones getting whiplash. One minute, we were watching a sweet love story between an innocent college kid and his idol crush, and the next minute we were watching a masterclass on how to bang your one-night stand (consensually) until he agrees to date you. It's like...Sir, I'm on the train. Could you give a bitch a heads up? (Episode 8)

***

While I am generally envious of every single one of these experiences, I'm even more envious of everyone's knee strength and flexibility. I could never. Rollerblading has ruined me. If I tried half of these positions, I'd have to get physical therapy. 🙃

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manicpixiefelix · 4 months

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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 2.

Summary: Felix and Y/N's first year of university means being more open with how close they are, while perhaps growing a little more distant than Felix would like. Also the Catton family have bestowed Y/N their own title, which Felix hates, and Y/N and Farleigh have a moment of connection over Christmas.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader with Felix, Venetia, and Farleigh in this chapter. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: Smut (reader bottoming but their gender is not made explicit), Degrading language (reader is referred to as as dog & pet)

A/N: 3071 words. i definitely meant to get to the start of their second year/first run in with Oli..... but this chapter got long enough, so instead we'll meet Oliver at the start of the next chapter and instead we get Felix and Reader at university, best friends who hook up shenanigans, Venetia being a pot-stirrer because she likes to rile up her brother, and Farleigh and Y/N bonding and boning. i feel like the pacing is a bit strange so id love some feedback <3 ALSO I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT UK COLLEGE CALANDERS IM SO SORRY LOL

Taglist: @strangemaximoff @renaissance-mama @tsach @malscorner @xhoneymoonx134 @yelchinweasleylothbrok @tarriea @florencediet @butitsbetterifyoudoittoem @belladonnadarksshade @fandom-multiamory @snazzynacho @jubileexoxo @soocore @be-lla-vie @nightingale2124 @willow-sages @null4ndv0id @gracieluvthemoon @day2dream @marvellover98 @navixfr @bitxhinthecomments @daintylovers @alesunsets @noturningbacknow @d0llysposts @alilcloudy @callsignwidow @moviequotes23 @325575 @bonnieblue0606 @osoqueen125 @hot-dino-nuggies @darkness-falls-xo

----

To absolutely no-ones surprise, least of all yours, Felix takes to the social aspects of college like a duck to water. Neither of you missed a single day or night of activities during first year orientation, and you both left the various pubs and bars with a different hook up each night.

Felix sees a poster for a band in town, and crows with laughter as he talks about how his mother would hate if he ever got a piercing, but you know the look in his eye too well, and tell him there's a piercing place a block away.

"God I miss Farleigh," you sigh with a smile, watching him size himself up in the mirror of the tattoo parlour where the piercer had drawn approximate dots to mark his soon-to-be eyebrow piercing.

"Oh he'd love this, wouldn't he?" Felix agrees, grinning from ear to ear, catching your gaze in the reflection. Despite the piercer's reassurance that it doesn't actually hurt that bad, Felix plays up the bit of being concerned, insisting that you hold his hand.

It's easier in this environment to be affectionate. Perhaps its the way that all nights liked to blur together, lips and teeth and tongues and hands, and you find yourself invited to parties and into bedrooms and Felix is in the crowd, pupils wide and drugs in his blood and knowing you can take care of yourself.

Fruit flies mistaking his light in the night for the rot they're used to.

That being said, while of course Felix is gorgeous and the life of the party, your own magnetic aura and love features draw in your own crowd of admirers; you proximity to Felix was merely a perk.

You yourself find yourself blooming at college; with a far stronger sense of identity than you'd had for most of your teenage years, you shed many of your adolescent insecurities and begin to embrace yourself and the people around you as more than just Felix's friends.

"I miss you," he teases, eyes shiny and pupils huge, looking at you with that look that made everyone else weak in the knees. The two of you are crammed too close in a booth at a club, everyone else having left to dance or find something interesting to snort in the bathrooms.

"I'm always around, Fi," you murmur, just as high, lips twisted into a bleary smile, your finger beneath his chin to lift his face to you.

"They love you here," he grinned, lips inches from yours, skin glowing with sweat from the adrenaline and high of the night, "knew they would," it's not especially jealous, more proud, and you sigh against his lips with the kind of warm contentment his praise always brings you.

"Don't care if they love me," you say, very tellingly, voice low and flirty. Anyone could see the two of you, but the unspoken rules of high school had fallen away; the rules of college seemed to prioritise a lack of judgement, especially with the people you surrounded yourself with. Felix giggles, flushing red, leaning into your touch, leaning even heavier against you in the little, otherwise empty booth.

"You miss me, Fi?" You prompt, letting his face go as you wrap an arm around him, drawing you in close to him. Despite his height, he folds himself up to lean into you. Felix giggles again, mostly to himself, clearly shitfaced, without answering, he angles his face up to press a kiss to your neck, "we see each other every day, we still fuck around, we -"

"Do you think I could live without you?" He asks suddenly, and surprisingly frankly. His chin is on your shoulder, eyes wide and demanding an answer. It's not a joke, nor some strange attempt at flirting, and your throat turns dry as the lights spin around you both.

"You're drunk," you tell him gently, "and high."

"Why would I ask that?" He frowns, suddenly, sitting up, as if he's talking more to himself than you, "that's a fucked question actually, sorry Y/N, I shouldn't have -"

"I think it's more about how you feel about it." You tell him gently, "we should get water. You sit here, I'll get it."

You're unsteady on your feet when you head to the bar, collecting two cups of water, almost overflowing, from the end, trying not to think about it all. It didn't matter either way, how he thought or felt about it. It was a foolish, drunken question, it doesn't matter. Right?

Except he's bopping back and forth in his seat, tapping the rhythm with surprising success on the table top, eyes shining in the light where all he seems to look at is you. Felix grin wide and bright, thanks already in his smile before the words reach his lips as you sit back down next to him.

You could live without him, but you know you'd never want to, so long as he'd want you around.

"Think I'd rather die than live without you," he says with little prompting, holding the cup with both hands as he downs half in a single gulp. What?

"What?"

He turns those perfect, brown eyes upon you like you don't already live your life in his shape, like he hadn't validated every choice you'd made since you'd met him. He smiles.

"You're my best mate, you're always good to me and help me with shit and never get mad at all the dumb ideas I have and you've made sure I haven't gotten kicked out of any schools, even if I probably deserved it," he rambles and takes another drink, this time choosing to look out at the nauseating crowd of haze and lights and bodies, "I love you, I don't think I could live without you."

"Is that why you miss me?" Your voice is barely audible above the music, but Felix still hears it. Putting his mostly empty cup on the table, he shoves his shoulder against yours, refusing to let up until his full weight is against you, the two of you toppling down in the booth, him draped over you wearing the absolute goofiest grin. It's a good reminder that you're both incredibly drunk.

"Just miss you."

You stumble out of the bar together, and back to the dorms. Felix is insistent that you stay with him.

"No funny business," he mumbles against your ear, breath hot and smirk in his voice, "promise."

"You couldn't get it up if you tried," you snorted, "whiskey dick." Though he tries to protest, you gently elbow him in the ribs and he sulkily admits that you're probably right. Still, in the warmth of his room and the two of you stripped to your underwear, it's kind of irresistible to not make out like teenagers for a good while. You get you both glasses of water to put on the nightstand, and Felix tells you he loves you while on the brink of sleep.

"Love you too, Fi."

"Couldn't live without you, meant it," he hiccups, cracking an eye to smirk up at you from where he's splayed out on the bed, "probably."

"Don't think I could live without you either," you shuffle yourself into the bed beside him, letting him roll over to wrap an arm around you, "even if you are a fucking wanker sometimes," you grin, and hear him laugh into his pillow.

Felix has more game than anyone you've ever met without even trying, stealing and breaking hearts from all areas of the university. You watch it happen with amusement as you find your own slew of pretty guys and girls to keep you company when you feel like it. Still, for all the charisma and charm Felix had been blessed with, his touch-starved nature becomes both a blessing and a curse when he finds himself drunk and tactile and desperate for touch.

A desperate, affection Felix loses all of those carefully-curated social barriers that the two of you had put between yourselves as teenagers in public. Girls are more open and supportive around here; perhaps you should be offended, that many, once they learn he's prone to clinging to you, to kissing you, they end up rationalising it. It doesn't count.

Or perhaps they think they can shift the affection to themselves. Felix always learns to be more affectionate to them, but will find himself with you more often than he's not.

And those girls don't even know about the sex.

"I think about you," he huffs between short, jagged breaths, with you bent over the end of his bed, "is that weird?"

His latest breakup isn't even twelve hours old yet, but when you'd showed up at his room with a six-pack of beers and the offer to let him vent, he'd taken it without hesitation. While they hadn't been going out for long, she'd been pretty, but an apparently lousy fuck. When you'd jokingly offered to remind him what a decent lay was like, Felix had genuinely jumped at the chance.

"A bit - ah," you mused for a moment, hips rocking back to meet his in a pleasant rhythm. He takes a pause to tap one of your ankles with his foot, and you adjust your stance to be a bit wider, "what context? Just in general - fuck, Fi, there," and you find yourself lost for words as he presses his hand against the small of your back. His pace remains steady as he fucks you, and you obliging lean further down; he knows you well, know how to fuck you just the way you both enjoy.

Then you're in his bed, straddling him, riding him with his hands on your hips, your thighs, bouncing as his nails dig pleasantly into your skin.

"Think about me?" You finally continue, breathless, and something about the way he holds you steady, lets you pause as he laughs, flushed cheeks growing even more read, makes you grin too, "you mean like this, don't you?" And you rolled your hips, eliciting a groan from him that was like music to your ears.

"Shut up," he'd laughed, giving you a squeeze, unable to meet your gaze.

"Did you ever call out my name?" You lean down, across him, and for a moment his hands slide up your body to wrap around your neck, bringing you in for a gentle kiss.

"Thankfully not."

"Still, those poor girls," you teased.

"Poor me," Felix argued, "having to try and power through terrible sex while thinking about someone who's not even there, just because I know you're better at it," and he played at pouting for a moment, looking for sympathy.

"You really didn't have to tell me all this," you laughed, sitting back up and setting a gentle pace, smiling down at him, "you're such a perv." When his fingertips trail down your body, a shiver runs down your spine. There's this look in his eyes for just a moment, something knowing, something teasing, something you'd seen on occasion that made you feel so wanted and seen and -

He likes you knowing.

"You gonna give me something to think about?" That tone of voice, the teasing, the faintest hint of authority, like he's pretending like he doesn't know all the ways you'd debauch yourself if only he asked.

Venetia gets you a collar for Christmas, and Farleigh's already been kicked out of several universities by the time your first Winter break had arrived.

"Oh Pet, that's so cute," Elspeth coos at the designer, velvet collar that Venetia had smugly handed over while Felix had scowled, "is that Cartier?" Much to Felix's dismay, Elspeth and Sir James have apparently taken to calling you Pet as a pet name. He blames his sister entirely.

"Pet's easier, sweetheart," Elspeth had tried to argue when you'd sat down at your first breakfast of the Winter break at Saltburn, and she'd asked Duncan 'don't forget about our dear pet'. Naturally Felix had frowned the entire time while arguing with his parents, who insisted it's easier to use Pet than a whole new set of names and pronouns.

"It's been years mum, how have you not adjusted?" He demands, while you have shrunken in your chair and tried to divine life's secrets from your breakfast.

"What do you think, Pet?" Venetia said with a venomous kind of sweetness. Looking up at her, she's wearing this smug kind of smile, directed not at you but at Felix next to you. When you look to him, you see Farleigh across the table trying to hide his amusement in several pieces of toast eaten with no break in between.

"I think," you paused, looking past an annoyed Felix to his mother at the head of the table, "that if you want to call me Pet, you can, I think it's sweet, but please don't expect Felix to refer to me as such," you said with a surprising amount of firmness. Then after a beat of surprise from the rest of the table, you took a deep breath, "and for events and guests, I really wouldn't appreciate being introduced as such."

"Of course," Elspeth quickly amends, adding, "Y/N," for good measure.

"It's a pet name, Pet," Sir James gives an awkward little smile, nodding in agreement. Farleigh met your gaze for a moment, and you could see only the bread was keeping his laughter from spilling out. Beside you, Felix relaxes, and finally you look at him. Dark, serious eyes, with something grateful shining faintly in the morning sun.

Of course you let him throw Venetia's collar gift in the fire in front of her, despite her protests.

You get used to the sweet way the Cattons refer to you as Pet; as much as Felix despised it's connotations when it came from his sister, there was something comforting, something almost secure about the way the whole family had picked it up so easily.

"Was wondering where I'd find you," Farleigh's voice is warm while you're raiding the expansive kitchen for some kind of easy midnight snack. You could have asked one of the many staff members who reside on the property, but you hadn't wanted to bother them over probably some crisps.

"Farleigh!" You light up upon hearing his voice, turning, refrigerator door still open in your hand. He approaches, and you close the refrigerator, hugging him tightly, "oh this is great, it's been so long since it's been just us!"

"Darling pet," he says with a surprising amount of gentleness.

"You should come to Oxford, Fi and I miss you terribly," you tell him, leaning into his touch with a sincere smile as he holds your face gently, while you still hold him is a loose embrace.

"I've already been accepted into another college; you'll be fine without me," and he grins, kissing you on the nose, pressing a kiss to each cheek, "pet." He adds, almost to himself, and your face falls as you think about what he'd said.

"Everything's better with you," you insist, "and you'd love it; we could party like we did that Summer in France, but every weekend -!" Farleigh cuts you off with his lips against yours; you can taste the sweet smile he's wearing before he deepens the kiss.

Later, in Farleigh's bed, bathed in moonlight and the afterglow, you light up a cigarette and open his window.

"Fucking freezing," Farleigh mutters.

"Sorry," but you don't close the window. Silence stretches out between you both. You hope Farleigh enjoyed himself, hope he's happy -

"You don't need them," he says quietly, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, you breathe out a lungful of smoke and turn to him with a frown, "this family; we all know where you're from. You don't need them." There's something strange about his tone, clearing his throat when he finally looks at you, "but you still want them to love you."

"They're good to me," you finally say, dropping your gaze as you reach back to offer the cigarette, "to us," you tell him, and he hums with the smoke in his lungs. Then, taking back the cigarette, you inhale the sour-sweet smoke and tap off the ash off the window sill.

"I'm not their fucking dog, Farleigh," you mumble, surprising frustration escaping you, anger you hadn't even realised you were holding on to.

"I know, pet," he says softly, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, "you'll let them think they have you kept, but you're not their dog, I know."

"I like you, Farleigh," you say with a faint smile, leaning back to see the way he's grinning too, "and I love you a bit as well I think."

"I know, I love you too, Y/N."

"We miss you a lot." There's something about the quiet that follows your words that you know all too well; Farleigh's about to tease you for something. Probably Felix related.

As if on cue;

"Does he know you like being his dog?" Grin widening, Farleigh gives you a slight shove, though the truth of his words has you hiding your own embarrassed smile.

"He thinks it's an insult to me, which is sweet of him," you chuckled, and Farleigh eases the cigarette from your fingers, "but it's like he has no idea the effect he's had on me for over a decade now. Yeah, I'm my own person, I have hobbies and friends outside of him, but -"

"You're a service bottom and desperately in love," Farleigh cuts in with a surprisingly sage tone, nodding like he hadn't absolutely called you out. Shocked with his vulgar kind of accuracy, you practically shove him out of the bed, laughing that he needs to fuck off, and the discussion is left at that.

The next morning, sitting down to breakfast, Duncan quietly informs Sir James that there had been a disturbance during the night. Immediately you throw Farleigh under the bus and declare that it's his fault.

"Hey!" He shouts back, grinning, "it takes two to fuck in the kitchen!" Which has all four of you, Venetia, Felix, Farleigh, and yourself, cracking up with laughter as Elspeth and Sir James were exasperated by your collective antics.

There is so much affection in Felix's eyes in this moment, this simple, strange moment of admitted sexual deviance. Except it's never felt like that to either of you. It's one of the ways you've both shown love, and he loves that you love those closest to him.

And you love to make him happy.

Farleigh was right, not that you'd ever tell him.

#felix catton imagine #felix catton x reader #felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #farleigh x reader #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start imagine #farleigh imagine #farleigh start x you #farleigh x you #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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natailiatulls07 · 6 months

Note

Do you have anymore platonic fics in those drafts of yours 👀

The f1 fandom has a severe drought of those and your my supplier lol

The Menace

Austin Butler x female!reader Formula one grid & female!driver!reader

Summary - After Y/n’s boyfriend cheated on her, she really had that post break up glow!!

Warning - swearing, alcohol, cheating, break ups

A/n - Your wish is my command, currently sat in the hairdressers with toner on lolll 😚

Few notes -

1. No shame to Austin Butler

2. Face claim is Kaia Gerber

3. Reader drives for Ferrari, taking Carlos’ spot

f1gossip

Rumour has it: Ferrari driver Y/n L/n and her boyfriend, actor Austin Butler have been rumoured to be broken up after Butler was seen in a club just outside of London Soho. L/n had to dnf from the Sunday race in São Paulo last weekend after her car suffered some mechanical damage in the formation lap.

Liked by username and 2,836 others

username After the season Y/n had this year in Ferrari, she doesn’t deserve this!!!

username Oooo he has fucked up!

= username Lost a rare find, he’ll never find one like herrrr

username Y/n just get with me, I’ll treat you right😚

f1gossip

Rumour has it: After it was rumoured that Ferrari driver Y/n L/n and actor Austin Butler had broken up, L/n was seen this morning supposedly with bloodshot and puffy eyes on the streets of not so sunny Monte Carlo. With a few days to go until the new Las Vegas Grand Prix, how will Y/n spend her short time off?

Liked by username and 3,922 others

username Poor girl is going through a breakup but paparazzi still want to barge into her busy, disgusting 😒

username She still slays tho!!

username I would say she’ll get redemption in Vegas but with the car atm I highly doubt

= username AGREED

username Hoping for a post break up glow 🥹

= username OMFG CAN YOU IMAGINE 🥵🤤

scuderiaferrari

Las Vegas…we’re coming for you

Liked by f1 and 87,926 others

username Hoping for a good Ferrari weekend pleaseee

username After Y/n’s break up she deserves a miracle this weekend 🙌🏻

username Charles what are you wearing??? 😃

username Just wait it we all see Austin crawling back for her, just you wait!!

username Polar opposites, Charles all dressed up and Y/n keeping it simple but effective

username Please someone beat Max and get first PLEASEEE

yourusername

Any boys in Las Vegas, I’m here early but please no Elvis 🤮

Liked by georgerussell and 107,936 others

username YOOO MISS GURL

username She really out here shaming him publicly. Love it 😍

landonorris And this is why we call you the menace

= yourusername So glad I live up to the name 😋

username austinbutler Look what you missed out on loll

username Not her mentioning his biggest role and then putting a throwing up emoji next to it LMAO

maxverstappen1 Y/n don’t get to crazy

= yourusername No promises 😇

= danielricciardo She is definitely going to get black out drunk tonight omfg

= maxverstappen1 100%

austinbutler

Never really liked red Ferrari, it’s tacky and old fashioned

Liked by username and 54,926 others

username Oh shit he’s fighting back!!

username Their pr teams are gonna be so annoyed with both of them frrr

username Patiently waiting for mother to put him in his rightful spot 😌

yourusername Everyone is a ferrari fan, even if they say they’re not, they are Ferrari fans - Sebastian Vettel 😚

~~ Liked by sebastianvettel and 123,037 others

username OMFG SHE SNAPPED BACKKK

username The Menace is back at it again!! 🙌🏻🙌🏻

charles_leclerc Sort yourself out mate

~~ Liked by yourusername and 109,935 others

username Not both Ferrari drivers clapping back LMAO

yourusername

Babes get over yourself 🍾

Liked by lewishamilton and 113,025 others

username Girl really said ‘Calm your fucking ego down’ 🙌🏻

username LOVING THIS 🤍🤍

username Hot ass female driver and some random drivers

sebastianvettel Loved see the grid again, thank you

= yourusername Always 🫶🏻

username austinbutler

username You just know that Y/n and Lewis were best dressed there!! Hands down!!

mickschumacher You definitely brought the party 👏🏻👏🏻

= yourusername It’s my job Mickey!!

username THE CAPTION She really is the menace!!! 🤩

f1 posted a story

username FERRARI DRIVERS ARE SERVING CUNT OMFG 😍😍

username Y/n is really showing her really style and I’m living for itttt

username THE HAIR SUNGLASSES MAKEUP AND WHOLE OUTFIT 🥵🥵

username Charles really let her have spot light and rightfully so!!!

username Austin really fumbleddd

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carlyraejepsans · 11 months

Text

speaking of dr, there's something that really annoys me about how shallow the ship discourse around kr4lsei is. I'm not sure I'm 100% behind this for the same reasons i doubt toby will go full in with noelle's mom being abusive, ie "those are very delicate and complex topics to handle, does he have the time and space to deal with them in deltarune's story?" so take this with a grain of salt.

(warning for brief mention of incest, so I'm putting this under a readmore)

i think the discourse being framed as "thinking ralsei is presented as a romantic interest" vs "thinking ralsei is compared to kris' brother or like a family member" is incredibly stupid because those are... both true at the same time. yes, there's an unskippable "tunnel of love" scene, and it looks like ralsei could have somewhat of a crush on kris. but ralsei still 1) looks just like a dreemurr, 2) clearly plays, as a character, on our feelings and memories of asriel from playing undertale, as evident by their designs and their names being anagrams 3) i am 99% sure Noelle was going to say "that kinda looks like asriel" while looking at him eating cotton candy with Susie, and Susie herself suggests telling toriel he's "a long lost cousin". either way, if ralsei is meant to play on our feelings towards asriel, then as asriel's sibling, kris is likely gonna feel similarly.

are you uncomfortable? good! you should be. that's the point.

it's not random that the snowgrave route was framed and portrayed with the imagery of a wedding. first the freezering, then the thorn ring are explicitly compared to wedding rings. "we're just friends"/"we're something else". "YOU'VE BEEN MAKING [hyperlink blocked (...LoVE?)], HAVEN'T YOU?" noelle with whom kris had a strained relationship, whose feelings (platonic? romantic? we don't know) we brute force in what is the most chilling, manipulative, cruel iteration of chapter 2's story we could take... it's almost as if deltarune uses kris being forced into romantically coded situations they're deeply uncomfortable with as a way to showcase their lack of agency in the story.

and being pushed into romcom-like situations with a guy who looks like their brother works pretty darn well to follow that pattern, if you ask me.

now, if a forced romance with noelle represents their lack of agency in regards to the player, then... a forced romance with ralsei could represent their lack of agency towards Fate. The Plot/Story. unskippable cutscene, remember? not to mention ralsei's whole purposepilled shtick he clearly has a complex about.

this does raise a couple of questions about susie though, as the third option in the "who would you take to the fair with you" question, the one option kris seems to agree with, as well as being a character who is actively resisting the narrative.

because there's people who are very much FOR krusie, just as there are people against it, i doubt their getting or not getting together would work to represent kris gaining their agency back. and i believe i speak for everyone when i say that susie is going to play a huge part in that arc. either way, i'm curious to see how this develops.

idk! like i said, I'm not sure just how much toby is gonna go into this because it IS a very delicate subject. but it's an example of what i mean when i say "there's more to fandom than shipping" and "fixating so hard on Shipping Good Things" can be detrimental to analysis. I'm not cancelling anyone with this post, go on doing your thing whether it's kr4lsei or r4lsusie or krus1e. but if your first thought going into this was "I'm gonna ignore the part where the game compares ralsei to asriel because that would make my ship incest and that is Bad and uncomfortable" then... that's a very cheap way to interact with media? lol. sometimes being uncomfortable IS the point. god knows utdr makes you uncomfortable on purpose sometimes. ok rant over :P

#incest mention #entry log #deltarune #kris #ralsei #metanalysis

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cherubispunk · 4 months

Text

CHERUB (PART III) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering.

a note from Lucy: Well, this is it folks. The third and final instalment of the unholy trinity that is cherub. The fic that i had no idea would get this amount of traction. The fic that gave me my username, blog theme, the majority of my mutuals and the freedom to explore more taboo areas of writing that I never felt comfortable with doing before. I just wanted to thank you all for all the kind words you’ve shared with me. Comments, reblogs, messages, they all mean the utter world. But i also want to specifically thank @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin who was such a huge help for motivation when wrting each of these. She's been there since the first day of cherub and always let me obsess over dealer!joel with her. Ange, i love you baby. Out of all my fandom experiences, this has definitely been one of the best. I know this sounds a lot like a goodbye completely, but it's not i swear! I just never really knew where this was going, but I think this is a pretty good way to end the series and I hope you agree too. Part of me isn't ready to let go after such a short run, but I honestly have no idea where to go from here so I think I did it as much justice as I could. Regardless, Cherub and Dealer!Joel will forever have a place in my heart all thanks to you lovely lot! Your love means the world to me and you are all so easy to share this with, you've given me an environment to flourish creatively and I'm eternally grateful for that. I wish you all the love, hugs, kisses, and angel wishes in the world!

playlist

wc: 5548 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! Unedited for now, no outbreak, no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, plot? what plot? we all know we're here for the porn anyway, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his late 50s), gore imagry, religious imagry, Smut, very dubcon in theory but both want it bad, grafic smut, P in V sex (unprotected — pleaseee don’t do tis irl i beg of you), teasing, sort of edging? (idk what to call it but he doesnt fuck you until you beg for it lol). nipple play, biting biting biting!!!!!, references to domestic violence, use of pet names, manipulative! joel, stupid stupid cherub, stockholm syndrome, oral (f receiving), cum eating, pussy slapping, Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, overstimulation. Again, some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile vile vile porn I have written thus far…with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell, i have my own circle now. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

The danger didn't lie in his hands. It didn't sit in his closed first to be suffocated. Choked out until the life of it was compressed. Until its face was blue, then purple and its eyes were bloodshot and streaked with red. The danger lay in your heart. And it thrived off the beating.

What is ‘it’, you ask? Mania.

The Greeks had it nailed down when they split love seven different ways. To the crucifix through its punctured and bleeding palms. All equal, but different. They understood that one love is different to the other. That love can be either obsession, or lingering in the quiet parts of a person's mind. You cannot hold up a mirror to one and deceive into believing it is another. No matter how sweet the lie seeps into the ear. They don't work that way. You were not Lucifer, you had no forked tongue. And your mania wasn't Eve. There was no apple to devour. Only the strong arm of Joel Miller to cling to like a noose.

Some love passionately. Find it in the scathing friction of flesh upon flesh. The heat two bodies make only in sex. You were no body anymore. Merely a corpse for him to dig up and breathe life into whenever he needed relief. So it was not Eros. Some love playfully. In the back and forth of a conversation that makes the mind and heart float in the clouds among the soul. Entwine them together until you are too sedated to know the difference between the three pillars of personal holy trinity. There was nothing lighthearted about Joel Miller. So there was no Ludus. Affection. The subtle, it-is-there-even-when-it-is-not weight of lovers hand in lovers hand. Joel clutched your throat with his heavy hand. He didn't lace your fingers in his like tapestry threads. And he was anything but friendly. So it could never be Philia. He was not unconditional. Familial. Constant. Committed. Long lasting. Selfless. He crept in through the backdoor and took. Then slipped back out. So the thick blood red line was drawn through Storge. Agape. Pragma. The love you had was not for yourself. Without him you hated yourself. Hated how you didn’t feel needed. Or wanted. So Philautia was buried six feet under hot earth, the final nail in the coffin that was lowered into the rotting, thick-with-decaying-mulch, stenching ground. By none other than Mania.

This was something you came to realise as you stumbled from his truck back to your room. His come dribbling down your leg. Luke asleep on the sofa. Months passed of the same thing. He’d take you home from work, only letting you go once he'd had his fill. Played out the sick fantasy from mind to matter, let it bleed through his fingers into fruition. You let it happen for mania. It was the thing inside you that kept you going. Before you thought mania fed off your heartbeat. But now you realised mania fed your heartbeat. The kick it got every second fired the next muted pulse. That's what kept it alive. Energy for energy. You were never one to bite the hand that feeds. That’s a sinner's duty.

—

The usual sight of Luke slumped in his lazy boy, guzzling beer was what you expected. The liquor once again swigged past his lips and dribbling down his stubbled chin. Wiry greying hair greasy on his head, balding. Thinning. Residue from a line on the coffee table. You were never tempted by it before. And you were determined never be a Angel dust statistic like him.

Instead, you opened the flimsy door of your trailer to see him hunched over a small collapsible table. His hand running over his sunken eyes, dragging purple eye bags down with his fingertips in shame. Cards in his other. It had your breath catching in your throat like a hare in a wire snare trap. This time around the small collapsible round table. Cards in his hand. And two other men shared a knowing glance and a grim smile of satisfaction. Him.

Joel Miller.

The tension was thicker than molasses in the room. You only wished it was as sweet. You swallowed it down thickly. It stretched your throat. You watched in morbid fascination when he lay his hand on the table in a fan for all to horror at, a sly smirk slithering over his lips and curling the one corner of it up like a scorpion's tail.

“Full house.”

“Fuck!” And Luke’s hand slapped the tabletop as he folded.

The door clicked. All three looked up to see you. Luke, Joel, and the man who held a familiar resemblance to your own personal devil. With eyes on you, you felt more like that hare in the snare than ever. Clapping eyes on the hungry wolf as mutton dripped bloody from his sneer. Cruel and hungry. You imagined him as that wolf, hyde thick and bristled under your soft fingers as he led you to some deep, dark, thorny place. A place only lit by the eyes of owls who observed while he had his way with you. Ripped your stockings to get to sweet fruit.

“Great, the cunt is home.” Luke spat to the room but you, looking over the table again as he bit his thumb nervously to the edge of the hangnail. “Get me a beer.” Your nostrils flared in defiance at his demand, knuckles pale as fingers furled into a fist. An army of goosebumps had stood to attention all along your arms and the back of your neck. A shiver shattering down your spine. Your heart had enough of its prison of your ribcage in your anger, ramming into it over and over in a frantic hammering. And when that wasn't enough, you felt it in your throat. Among the tightening of your airways. “You hear me girl?” He asked, looking at you. He stood, chair scraping against the floor and you staggered back to the point your shoulderblades hit the door. While he was a thin, wiry man, he had a vicious backhand that stung. Like a vengeful aftertaste. “Y’need me to beat some sense inta ya girl, huh?!” You dared to spare a glance at Joel who was too busy collecting his winnings. You soon to be among them.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, looking to the floor and cowering off to the kitchen to get him his beer.

“Y’short, Luke.” You heard from the doorway, straining to hear the tail end of the conversation. Something about your uncle having it by monday. And then Joel telling him he shouldn’t raise a bet he doesn't have the dough to cover.

It took a second to catch your breath. Tears strung in your eyes and your chest threatened to split in two. Your sternum felt like it was cracking down the middle into clean halves under the weight of your chest. A hand clasped over your quivering lips to bite back a horrible sob and muffle it. Only your palm could know you were crying miserably. So you took a beer from the fridge, heard the hiss as the lid gave way and popped off. It clattered to the linoleum and you bared your teeth at the grating sound, picking it up and tossing it in the bin.

“Here.” You mumbled, placing it unceremoniously on the table in front of Luke.

“Y’got any spare cash on you, girl?” Luke asked, beady eyes staring you down as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink. You grimaced inwardly at the sight of his yellow teeth when he made a satisfied sigh.

“No.”

Joel’s brow raised. You should know by now not to lie to a man who can read you like a book. That's the thing about narcissists. They have a way of being able to understand you like a one word sentence on paper. A quick glance and you’re unravelling with concealed meaning and connotation.

“C’mon, Cherub…gotta have something from workin’ this late in that diner of yours…” You dared to challenge Joel with a look. A look that retreated soon after the advance of the glare of his eye. The same glare of the hungry wolf. Of the cheated man. It was unkind, and unyielding, and did not hold mercy upon the souls of the enthralled, the damned, or the harrowed. You might try to cross through the sentence, or turn the page. Or shut the book entirely. But the truth is still the truth even when you chose not to look. This was the man that knew your mind. Knew your body. And coaxed his will out of you each time. His word was all it took to cave, so you took the folded bills from your apron, flicking through them with a bitten back scowl,

“How much does he owe you?” Joel smiled with amusement, counting through his winnings to see what was short.

“Ninety-eight.”

‘What?” you asked, eyes wide, hurt. Disheartened. Fingers stilling halfway through the small stack. And Joel smirked.

“You heard me, Cherub.”

“Give Joel his money.” Luke warned.

“But it’s not his money! And it’s not yours to give!” You tried, and saw the warning tick of your uncle's narrow jaw. It was always set on edge before he threw a hand. Cast a palm across your cheek in a brandishing. It had you cowering. Relenting. Tossing the money in front of him. If it fell to the floor in its flurry he could pick it up and grovel about it. But Joel never grovelled. Only relished. Then reminded Luke of the money he still owed for the drugs.

And you walked back to the kitchen, biting into your lip again. With the devil and your demon in the next room over, you were sure this could be hell. A buzz filled your ears. Like the constant thrum of flies over roadkill. In festering flesh wounds where broken white of bone poked through gaping, bleeding holes. Blood matted in the hyde of the animal helpless and scattered across the road. A leg here, smashed teeth there. You were the roadkill. Joel was at the wheel of that which mowed you down. Luke was howling in the passenger side.

His boots thumped clumsily over the linoleum and he let out a huff through his nose while he adjusted his low slung jeans in the doorway.

“Cherub?” He asked, clearing his throat huskily — a consequence of the smokes he used religiously. You stood with your back to him, palms flat to the countertop and head hung low to fight the sting of tears simmering from within.

“He threatened to hit me.” You whispered, not turning to face him. If you mattered his ears would strain to meet you halfway. “And you did nothing.”

“Come on, Cherub…don't be like that.” he sighed, and you imagined him pinching the bridge of his hooked nose.

“He took my money. You took my money. How am I gonna get out of here without it?” You croaked, your tired eyes seeing faces of gaping mouths and slate black eyes in the speckled linoleum of the counter.

No reply came from the door. And when you turned it was empty. He had left. The other man had left. The tv was on again with the scream of a woman murdered. And Luke fell asleep in his lazy boy.

—

Another day, another shift. And more horror ensued. At first, what set the nerves thrumming was there was no sign of Luke. His truck was gone from its spot. No drunk slumped on the worn leather settee. No scream or grotesque image on the TV. Merely an empty bottle on the coffee table.

You swallowed, shutting the door cautiously with a muffled click of the latch. You didn't dare call his name. Just pushed it down into your stomach for it to churn the thought up in acid. But the horror jumped back up your throat into a lurid scream at the sight of your mattress tossed to the side. The moth bitten pillowcase on the floor, void of money. Your money. Gone. Someone had rifled through your belongings. Turned your only space into a mess. Strewn clothes, bed sheets, pillows in their haste. All your work. All the nights of living off bitter coffee from the pot at work, scrounging together tips. It made you seethe. The heat was an inferno at your fingertips, nails embedding crescents into your palms. You searched all over for it. But to no avail.

When Uncle Luke came home, he smelled of hard liquor. It was a miracle – or curse – he hadn't wrapped his car around a tree. He gloated, and sneered, and shoved it down your throat in his intoxication that he’d found it under the mattress. Joel had called him, told him you planned on leaving. And he connected the dots. Ransacked your room. Oh, how the man would hate his loose lips when you gave him hellfire.

You expected Luke’s reaction. You knew if he were to ever find out he’d snatch it up in his greedy, grimy hands and take it for himself. He spent all of it. Paid his debt to Joel, gambled some on bad luck bets, drank with the rest. Slugged liquor down his throat and got drunk off your labour. And then left you on your floor with tear stained cheeks and a heart of heavy lead.

You wanted your money. But would you take from the man who gave you your everything? Your sense of being. A religion and faith. You believed in nothing more than the way he held your name between his teeth. You forgot what your real name felt like in the same place. And it occurred to you that he had never said it. Did he know it? You weren't them anymore. You were Cherub.

The sweet and mourning lamb in you wanted to go over just to be his again, and not carry out the plan of taking back what was yours. That which he would see as sin. You felt guilt claw up your throat at the thought alone. It seemed blasphemous to conspire against him. Why do you insist on protecting yourself. You who was the sacrificial lamb?

If you did go – and you let him have you again – you were whole. But at what cost? Could you stand another night of temporary hell under the guise of heaven. Of touch so cold, like ivory or black ice. To have him thumb your skin with blunt endearments and the croon of ‘cherub’ past his chapped lips. Definite like black and white. No escape. What he’d do and how. Whispering them in the stone deaf shells of your ears like they were a sculpture. Pygmalion’s Bride. He’d made you all you were today. Took chisel to marble and carved out his masterpiece. Cherub.

You were soft, and pliable. Wax heated by his flame. You kissed back. You moaned for him. Begged him for his release and not your own. Bruised with his handprint. The warmth of life under flesh. But without him…you returned to marble. Another pretty thing to be gawked at. He tempted you with it because he knew more than anyone, more than god himself who watches these exchanges, that you can't live without him. It was like telling a child not to slip off to the woods in the dead of night. That was a pointless warning. You knew what lay there anyway, what threat it would be. That wolf in his thick bristled hyde. Curled up in his den. You would see it as innocence and vulnerability if you weren't so scared. But you knew when he woke up the teeth would shine again. And they’d tear flesh. Let blood. Gnash bone. Dripping from the glaring white once he finished with your carcass. Your matter between them and your crimson lacing his gums. Who knew being eaten alive could be so pleasurable.

But then again, how could bering alone really be hell if the devil wasn't there?

There is mania in your body. But you can't get it out. It rattles in your head and lungs and glues to the backs of your gnashers. No matter how much you wish to spit it out. It infects your tongue. It welds itself to the matter of your bones. Melts into the cracks between your teeth. Claggy against your tongue. All to show the sweetest of words have the bitterest of tastes. You can feel it swell underneath your skin. In the gap between muscles where it festers and heats you up. Like fever it burns, like the fire that consumes and the pillars that hold the temple up crack, the ground shakes, and the beast rears its ugly head at you. You’re losing your body to him. It's a fight you try to win. You dare to. You give your all, tooth and nail each time in the gaps between. In the silence and hollow that nestles in the middle of the meetings. In the quiet, where no one is around but the cracked plaster of your room. You stopped caring who fired the gun first. You were always the one who got shot down in the end. Right in the stomach. Blood gurgling up your throat in a grotesque plea for help.

All these weeks you had shrunk yourself to the size of a bird in his hands, sang a sweet sweet song of his name, until the squeeze of his first closest off your throat. And the sound stopped altogether. Laid there after the warning. Patient while you had your wings clipped and your freedom taken. And he took more. Took the beating of your heart with his teeth. Took the will to want. The will to love. The will to need anything else, as well as the need to have better. Below you were the foundations. Only now you saw them for what they were, a decaying mess of fragments, the stench of wood rot hot in your nose. A musk like no other. His musk. So in your anger you took an axe to a willow to see how it would weep. You slipped past the sleeping drunk you call Uncle Luke. Out the door, over gravel, past the truck he coaxed you to without the need of a sweet treat. You’d yank the axe from the bark of the weeping willow, its sob echoing in the wind that rustled its drapery of lush green leaves. Leaves that will wilt as sap bleeds from its severed trunk. Take the axe to the wolf. Cut him. Scrotum to throat.

Take back what was yours. And leave those woods skipping.

—

Your knocks descend upon his door in quick raps until he opened it with a grumble. Then a smirk. “Evenin’, Cherub.”

No salvation. No going back. No space among the clouds. Just the fall. You pushed past him into his front room. “Where is it?’ You hissed, tossing the cushions of the couch up. Nothing there. So you left them on the floor and did the same for the airchair. Nothing there either.

“Woah, calm down, girl!’ Joel huffed, reaching for your arm, which you tugged back from him in a new found strength surging you forward, out of his arms. “Where’s what?”

“My damn money, Miller!” You bit back with venom laced spit. A hunger for revenge making you salivate like a bad dog.

“The fuck you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, dickhead!” And he recoiled at your bared teeth, your verbal assault and battery, but went in for his own.

“Watch your damn foul language, girl!” He warned, reaching the end of his already short tether.

“You know how much he stole from me? Three hundred dollars of my hard earned chash. Forget my fucking ticket out of this shithole, I ain’t even paying rent now! And for what? Your god awful drugs!” His nostrils flared, and you watched the vein in his neck bulge under the sweltering heat of his own anger. Coiling inside him. Wounded bitch about to bite back.

“You didn’t have much of a probelm with my drugs after I fucked that pretty little hole of yours. All dumb and needy f’me, Cherub.” You grimaced at the sneer. But the feeling made your knees buckle. The name again. Cherub. You were Cherub. His cherub. “You want ya money back, huh? You can have it.”

That made you stutter. Thoughts skidding to halt at the sight of a brick wall. Crumpled matter as it smashed into it anyway. “What?”

“I ain't giving it to you for free though.”

“You're sick! It’s my fucking money!”

“Not in the eyes of the law its not.” And he folded his great oaks of arms over his chest in satisfaction. Once again one upping you.

“The eyes of the law? Says the fucking drug dealer. I bet you got way worse than coke in duffel over there. Wonder what the law would say about that?” It was said dismissively over your shoulder as you turned to leave. Alas, once again his large hand encompassed your wrist and squeezed. Pulled you back flush to his broad chest. His breath was hot on your neck as he whispered sweetly into your ear.

“Come on now, Cherub. You wouldn't do me in like that would ya? Not when I love ya…”

The way he said it…it didn't seem real. It was false. Comforting but not real. You knew it was a lie. This wasn't love. He didnt love. If he loved you he'd ask for your number then call you. Take you out. Let you cry on his shoulder and drive you home after. Kiss you in the dark for only the walls to see. Let you stay a night or two, or a whole damn week. Give you your damn money back. Stand up to Luke with a closed fist to the face. Leave swelling and a deep bruise on his cheekbone as a first and final warning.

“You love me?” You asked, voice small and hollow in your chest.

“Yeah, Cherub. I love you too.” He cooed, as if he knew you loved him already. All this and nose running over the curve of the side of your neck, tongue trailing hot in pursuit, it had you keeling over in confession at his feet. “You’re so cute when you're angry. Come on now, lemme make those tears go away…and you can have your money back, and we can forget this ever happened.” That tone…it was patronising. It made the sense in you rattle the cage of your ribs. Claw at the bars of bone and run into them like a caged animal. Because that’s what it was. A caged animal. But your heart was holding its hand over its mouth in a trance as it let his words ebb deeper. Somewhere between desperate and divine. But what was his motive?

God, Jesus, all above that is holy, you didn't care! After all this time, it was still no secret, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt.

He still had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Still ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper. Always would. Always will.

It's what got you here. It would end you if it could. Snuff out your heartbeat and the fire inside of you. All he need do was lick his fingers and press them to the wick. And leave the smoke to string out and curl. You thought you were hungry for love before. But now you realised you were just hungry for the sight of your blood on his lips. The gnashing of you between his teeth. The curl you made of his brow. If it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain. And he took again, and again.

So you let him ‘make it up to you’. Let him claw at your clothes until they were scraps on the floor. Tore your stockings. Showed you those gleaming teeth. The wolf. And you, his sacrificial lamb. His Cherub.

“Feel that?’ He asked, with the slow drag back and forth of him inside you, parting you. This wasn’t fast, or rough. This was slow. And it made you need more. Need it faster. Need him hurtling you towards the edge of harrowing oblivion. He knew that. It’s why he took his time with it this time around. “Yeah. You do.” Joel answered for you. You never had to answer. But often he made you say it from your own quivering lips. Just to have the taste of the words from your tongue bleed into his. The neverending praise. “Why would you wanna leave that Cherub?” You couldn't answer, only let out a soft sob. “Huh? Answer me, Cherub. Why’d you wanna fuckin’ leave that?” And he punctuated it with pulling out to the bulbous head of his clock, then slamming back in with one sharp thrust. And then he was still.

You whined a shallow gasp into his mouth. But he didn’t kiss you. Joel never kissed you. His teeth sinking into your bottom lip shut you right up before his tongue delved deeper into it. The thumb of the hand that slithered between your legs rolled over your clit, making you mewl over the buzz of electricity causing you to clamp down on his thick, full cock. You were so eager for more. Anything more than what he was giving you. He smirked into your mouth when he felt your hips buck forward, trying your damn hardest to push his cock deeper into you. Silly little cherub. You should know better than to defy God. “See? Felt good didn’t it?” You nodded as much as you could in your current piston.

“Mhm.”

“See what you can have if you stay. Why fight it cherub?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You gonna listen then, Cherub?”

“Yes. Yes! I’ll listen, just-” You shuddered at the thought of it, tears brimming at the the threshold of your eye. ”Please.”

“Say it.” He waited, wanting you to beg for it in the pretty way he knew you could. The choir voice. The songbirds hymn. The whole time his eyes did nothing but stare you down hungry at the sight of you falling apart from nothing but a hand to your throat and a single his throbbing dick buried in your aching cunt. It all pooled down into your centre, creating a rush your head had trouble keeping up with. “Tell me why you wanted to leave.”

“I dunno-” You stuttered, once again rolling your hips up. His hand at your throat pressed into your skin again, harder. It choked you. It had you drawing in a sharp, meagre breath. And he pulled out, running the underside of himself through the hot, drooling seam of your cunt. You shivered when the tip brushed up to your clit momentarily. The bead of precome at his slit smearing into your sex, mixing with your slick. “I dunno, Joel. I- I just wanted my money. I just wanted out. I hate it.” You babbled through closed eyes, chest heaving with sobs, and hot tears ran thick down your flushed cheeks.

“You hate it, huh?” He mocked and crooned, still catching your clit with the tip of his cock, hips waxing and waning in a slow roll. “You hate me too?” He knew the answer. But again, it was the satisfaction of knowing you were wrapped around his finger. Ready to bend over backwards for him. Him seeping into you through the cracks of your ribs, the gaps between your teeth. The opening of yourself to the twisting knot of denial within you. Your back arched like the lofty roof of a chapel, legs parting like its heavy doors. He followed you with hunger. You opened your mouth to speak but he squeezed momentarily on your throat again, oxygen starvation and the smell of him dizzying you. He relished in the whimper that he garnered from you. That and how he left you breathless just from his cruel touch.

“No.” You garbled as his thumb unhinged your jaw. Saliva in your mouth pooling while his thumb pressed your tongue down, bitter with a smokers telltale tobacco staining. It slipped past your lips, dribbled down his digits making a sticky mess at the curve of his thick wrist. He drew up a glob of saliva in his throat, watching as it drooled thickly, gluttonously, past his lips into your waiting mouth. He watched as you gagged on it, and then he let your jaw go so you could close your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste on your tongue. For what did it matter anymore? One day, you’ll be nothing but dust. Bronchioles in lungs will mimic roots. Navels will copy trunks. Organs will feed worms. Ribs will fossilise and lips that are kissed will mould back to Mother Nature. It's all you have ever been. Quick. Convenient. Easy to please, eager to help. Waiting lips, wanting cunt. Warm, never warm enough. But he kept you like a butterfly in a glass jar. He let you see freedom but never experience it. Why need it when you had the stretch of him inside you. The feeling of him, heat to heat with your sex.

“You want this, cherub? Wanna be stuffed full of me again?”

“Always wanted it, Joel.” You mumbled into his mouth, sniffing back the last this spurt of tears, hypnotised. His hand wrapped around his cock, the large splay of his palm did nothing to dwarf its size with he jacked himself once, twice, three times to the sight of you. He squeezed the base with hiss, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth after cursing under his bated breath. He was thick, flushed, the tip swollen and leaking, drooling greedily with a rivulet of precum down the underside of his length. He trod a path with his hands down to your breasts, kneading each one between his palms with a pinch before guiding himself back into the mouth of your heat, your cunt swallowing him down to the base. The needy roll of your hips into his showed just how desperate you were. He groaned at the start of the friction between you, and slowly dragged back out of you, moving just as slowly back inside. He repeated this twice, and then he let loose. The motion turned into a needy clash of his hips to yours. Again. Again. Again. Somewhere along the sting of passion and heat, his hand wrapped around your throat, feeling the flex of it as you swallowed under his palm. He bit down into your neck, reaching out from you as his hips slammed erratically. His heavy balls slapping against your ass with each rut forward of his unrelenting. The way he fucked you, was like holding a knife to your throat. It grounded you in the most harrowing way to each of his breaths. His panting in your ear. It swallowed you whole. Mad your legs wrap around his waist and your hips keen up into him.

Your cunt drooled down his shaft, down to the base, down the sensitive skin of his cock. He growled and hissed in your ear, teeth closing around your earlobe, his hand dragging back up and grip tightening around your neck. Getting off on the feeling of your pulse under his thumb.

You felt the knot tighten. And tighten. Right in the pit of your stomach, deep in your sopping wet cunt where the mouth of your cervix met his fucking. The walls of your cunt sucking him back in as the angle of his hips snapped up into the spot that had you seeing entire constellations. They darted to and fro across your vision. It blurred the edge, spots of dark matter, deep black, the colour of oblivion slinging over the back of your eyes that now burned with tears of pleasure. His fingers dug deeper into malleable flesh, gripped tightly at your hip with his free hand, thumb brushing over your hip bone down your mound to toy with your clit after a slap to it. And it was the action that sent you spiralling, babbling his name nonsensically among a string of curse words. So pretty and fucked out beneath him. Joel couldn’t help but stare smugly as your eyes rolled back into your head when your orgasm hit like a freight train. He came undone soon after, his climax hitting a crescendo with a growl bitten into your shoulder, bruising and brandishing you with his mark again.

He pulled back, leaving you to the mercy of the cold. Watching was his hips moved again to fuck his release back into you. Your hole quivered in protest, and you squirmed under him. “Don’t be fucking ungreatful now, Cherub.” You relented, going still and boneless on the mattress. Limbs unfurling from their tension. “That's it. Take it. Take it all.” He groaned smoothly. Just like the roll of his hips. He fucked it slowly back into you. And you took his release inside you to keep. “Good girl, Cherub.” He whispered, kissing your lips in a tender dichotomy. Not letting you rest until he was satisfied you took every drop of him. Afterall, it was all you’d have left of him until he next chose to pick you up. All the while, he trailed his tongue back down to your breasts, pressing the flat of it to your nipple, drawing it with a sharp suck into his mouth. Pressing the blunt of his teeth into your flesh. Letting the taste melt on his tongue. Salty with your sweat. He did the same to the others. When he went soft inside of you, and his hips stilled. He slipped out of you with hitched breath, the pad of his fingertips tracing your abused, used sex. Your legs twitching when he rolled your clit under two fingers. “I said stop squirming.” He grunted, landing another slap to your pussy. It made an obscene wet sound. His come dribbling out slowly.

“Open your mouth.” Joel commanded, and you did. Waiting for whatever he had planned. He licked a hot strip from your asshole to your cunt, pressing his tongue in to drag out some of his release. And he climbed back up to spit it into your mouth. A hand clamping down on your jaw. “Don’t swallow. Close your mouth.” And you did with the side of his thumb clamping it shut for you. “Taste that?” You nodded in response. It was hot, heavy and thick and salty to taste. Divine. “Show me.” You opened again, his creamy spend diluted amongst your saliva and he smirked. Clamping your jaw shut again. “Swallow.”

Joel watched in open mouthed amusement as the delicate column of your throat rippled under muscle contract. “Good girl, Cherub. Remember that taste next time y’feel like leaving again.” He warned in a growl. And you nodded, swallowing your pride. Your fear. Your mania aiding in shoving it down your throat to dissolve in acid. Once again you were in those deep dark woods. The one where the wolf lay. Remnants of you in his teeth. The willow is still weeping, slashed in half. The axe free of his bloodshed by the entrance of his den. The owls' eyes still lit the scene of sin where overhead the starlight was snuffed out by the tangle of branches thick in their black greenery.

You never got your money back. Maybe one day you'd get out of this town. But the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering. Even angels can’t resist a slice of that heaven. Fallen angel. Wounded bitch. Cherub.

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mothdruid · 4 days

Text

Within the past 72 hours the TGM fandom got a fire put under it's ass, for lack of a better term/phrase. Even though I'm not as active in the fandom anymore, it did make me want to talk about a few things. This isn't the first time that I've had to make a post similar to this, usually speaking about reblogs and keeping your fanfic writers feeling wanted within the fandom spaces, but today I'm going to talk more about fandom etiquette and my experiences in fandom spaces. So, if you want to hear my opinion on fandom etiquette, how I learned fandom etiquette, and my thoughts about the doxing situation that has happened, keep on reading.

My Fandom Experience.

The first fandom that I was ever a part of was The Hunger Games fandom in the 8th grade (if you don't include my anime fandoms). I was 12-13 at the time. This was when I was first introduced to Tumblr and being involved within a fandom online. At the time I was super young, barely even knew who I was as a person, let alone in a fandom space. All I did was reblog little gifsets and fawn over Josh Hutcherson. I remember getting my first hate anon, even though I didn't do anything that would generate that to even happen. Even when I was 12-13, I couldn't understand why anyone would send a hate anon. That was when I found out a friend of mine found my Tumblr and actually secretly hated me, so she sent me hate anons. Still, before I knew it was her I didn't understand.

Fandoms were a formative part of my childhood. I think that main one that helped form me though was the Supernatural (yeah, I know, eye roll), Naruto, and The Hobbit fandoms. I had made friends on Tumblr and Instagram through these fandoms. During these times was when I had first started consuming fanfiction. Specifically, destiel and thilbo fanfiction. This is how I started to find the things in fanfiction that I loved, and the things that I hated. Instead of sending hate to the writers for their thoughts and stories that I didn't agree with, I would back out of the story or just scroll past. Not only that, I also started to use the filters on AO3 constantly, ensuring that I was only reading the fics that I knew I'd enjoy. Also, I was careful to read warnings and tags prior to reading the fic. Never once did I blame the writer for something that I knew I didn't like and accidentally read or read for see what it was about.

After high school was when I started getting into fanfiction writing. I've written for a lot of fandoms during this time. The IT movies, Total Drama, Haikyuu, Attack on Titan, Marvel, Bridgerton, Top Gun: Maverick, and currently ASOIAF. As a writer I've never gotten hate, thankfully, but I have had a lot of friends that have. It's sad to see so many people who take the time to write, whether it's enjoyable or not, receive hate. As writers we are simply expressing our creativity for the things that we love. Since posting fanfiction on tumblr, I have experienced a lot of people pestering for new updates and when the next fic is, and so have a lot of other writers on here. Even though people only know us as a little icon and username, fanfiction writers are people. We have lives outside of writing fanfiction. Everyone also isn't the same type writer. One person may easily write multiple fics every week, some of us take longer, and some of us are even just passion writers (me lol).

The TGM fandom has been one of the most negative fandom experiences I've ever seen/had. It is full of some of the meanest people/anons I've ever seen. From writers being attacked for fic ideas, people being sent hate for something that the anon has full control over, and people constantly expecting new stories to read on the daily. Yes, I do know that other fandoms have these issues, but it seems to be almost a weekly, hell, even daily thing within this fandom. A lot of the issues that I see happen in this fandom are from people who don't understand fandom etiquette.

Fandom Etiquette.

If you had noticed there was a few things I put in bold above. These are key things that I learned during my time that attribute to fandom etiquette. So without further a do, I'll list out some fandom etiquette rules that I follow all the time.

Don't send hate anons to people

Block/unfollow people you don't like

If you don't like an idea or fic, don't read it

Read through all warnings and tags that the writer provided

Use AO3 filters

Don't blame the writer/creator for reading things they created that you actively know you don't like

Writers/Creators aren't "content farms"

There are people behind these blogs/usernames, treat them like someone you'd see on the street

Writers/Creators are expressing love/passion for something, don't hate them for doing that

If you see something fandom related that you don't like, scroll past it or ignore it

YOU CURATE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE (ESPECIALLY ON TUMBLR)

The Doxing Situation.

For those who are unaware but decided to read this anyways, recently there was a writer (Mama Mayhem) on here who got doxed from another writer in the fandom. Mayhem has since lost her job due to the doxing. This was apparently from her breaking HIPAA by posting a picture into a private groupchat/discord. This picture was posted almost a half year ago. Meaning that the person who reported/doxed Mayhem had known about this picture for months and only recently decided to do something about it.

I'll start by saying that I also work in healthcare, and know many other people here who do. I understand that a HIPAA violation is 100% an offense that gets you fired. I'm not excusing the HIPAA violation if one did occur.

Some people have brought up the idea that maybe the person that reported the picture, and doxed Mayhem, was doing it out of the goodness of their heart. Due to the timeline of it all, that doesn't seem likely. I had a previous coworker get fired for HIPAA violations and it took a total of a week from the initial report for her to be gone.

The biggest thing I want to convey is that TWO WRONGS CAN HAPPEN AT THE SAME TIME. Yes, if Mayhem violated HIPAA, it is wrong. But at the same time, the person held onto this information for months only to use it out of spite, pettiness, and cruelty, is wrong.

My Thoughts.

Due to Mayhem being doxed, a lot of people have decided to leave this platform, take indefinite hiatuses, stop writing, or move to AO3 exclusively., and I don't blame them. I'll be honest, I'm thinking about moving to AO3 exclusively now. AO3 feels a lot more rewarding in my experience. I already only post my fics for ships to AO3, so why not just post everything on AO3 (which I usually do).

I think a lot of people have forgot what it feels like to feel shame in something they say or do. When I say this, it's directed towards people who send hate or do other malicious things in fandom spaces. Fandoms were never this clique-ish and mean. I think it has to do with the pandemic, meaning that a lot of people who would have never joined a fandom did because they weren't allowed to do anything outside of their house. So, those mean girls that made fun of fandom girlies (g/n) previously, joined the fandoms and decided started bullying the people within them.

This situation is super shitty and people are now scared. It makes complete sense, especially after seeing someone, that many of you were close to, be doxed. A lot of people are scared of it happening to them now. I don't think this fandom will be the same after this situation, but who knows, maybe everyone will just forget and move on. Either way, I think I'll be taking a step back from the TGM fandom. I'll still be here, but until further notice, I won't be posting any TGM fanfiction. Maybe a gifset/picture here and there, but I don't think this is a fandom I feel comfortable writing for anymore.

If you've read all of this, thank you.

#moth talks #here it is #sorry it's so long but i couldn't convey my thoughts any other way

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randomnameless · 5 months

Note

Something that really bothers me about the rose coloured glasses vis a vis tellius and fe fans (ESPECIALLY from 3h fans who learned about tellius later) is that many like soren purely because of his main ship (i mean i like ikesoren too but come the fuck on) and jokingly characterise soren as a stereotypical nasty mean limp wristed sarcastic gay man instead of a deeply flawed branded angry at the world and definitely trauma bonded to ike, but micaiah is still absolutely getting raked over the coals over the blood pact and not being ike’s fangirl

Well,

Jokes often involve flanderisation, so Soren being flanderised to oblivion when people joke about him isn't something I really care about, but maybe that's because I'm not really fond of Soren to begin with lol

What annoys me more is when some people try to rationalise Soren's anger and backstory by either pointing at Almedha or Deghinsea being responsible for everything, and I'm like, what.the.fuck?

Almedha's just, idk, I won't call it sexism, but damn - that woman loves her son who is the only reason why she hasn't completely lost her mind over 1/losing her powers 2/being casted away like trash by her "BF" 3/being rejected by her dad 4/thinking her brother was tortured and abused to death because of her actions 5/being separated from her beloved child.

Deghinsea being "uwu bad bcs he's the reason why brandeds are rejected by both beorcs and laguz" is another take I really am not fond of, and iirc I wrote a post earlier this year about it? But to some people who buy the "Crusts BaD" as the reason why Fodlan sucks, I guess they need to have someone to name and pill all of the world's nonsense rather than, well, in Tellius' case, realise that the worldbulding and the lore really sucks, to the point where the duology touted as the most "against racism" of the franchise, is pretty much way more racist than anything Tru Piss can throw us (yes, because in Tru Piss we have characters rejecting coexistence, in Tellius, it's the world mechanics - whenever a Beorc and a Laguz coexist too much, the Laguz dies...).

As for Miccy,

Just like, imo, Soren gains some "new" attention and "uwu excuses for why he's being a snarky jerk at times", Miccy used to be bashed when FE10 was released (with all the Mary Sue accusation being thrown around!) because she was written to be a sort of foil/antagonist to Ike, and when the party reunited, she was demoted to a "soul-jar" role, let it be regarding the greater plot, or, even, her own backstory!

TBH, for people who didn't play FE10, if Ike is the bestest thing since melted cheese, Miccy, who opposes him, must be BaD and so you can pile everything you don't like on her, hoping to see it stick.

Or even worse, I've seen posts here and there comparing Miccy to Supreme Leader and how misunderstood uwu she is, which is the worst insult poor Miccy ever received since FE10 came out rofl

#2goldensnitches #do you want to kill me friend lol #once upon a time discussions about soren and miccy were very animated lol #anyways i still don't like how some part of the fandom tries to uwu him #he is a character with flaws that sure are never called out in the game and by the main character but #they exist #and to uwu them away is imo a disservice and not a good reading on him #'but his backstory sad uwus' Sephiran also has a crapton of sad uwus for his backstory #and yet the game chews him out about his plans to destroy the world because hey fuck off #it's not fair to condemn the world and everyone who lives in it for your suffering #It's sort of hilarious because sometimes I wonder if Miccy wasn't also written as a Soren foil #Miccy is the one who doesn't like when Beorc call Laguz names #she lives in racist land and knows she has to hide else she'll die too #but she still came to care about the people who live here #she gets to talk to Vika who feels weirded out by her being a branded and yet they agree to continue talking/being friends despite it #Miccy never insults Rafiel calling him a half beast #Soren follows Ike and his lead but Miccy has to take the lead despite wanting to follow Pelleas at first #tfw we know more about Soren's backstory even after being kicked away from Daein than Miccy's lol #granted I loved what FE10 with Almedha when you see that some of his worst traits/flaws are actually shared by his mom lol #tl;dr : a Soren raised by his mom would have been even more of a jerk than the one we got #i have a lot of feelings about how Miccy was treated in FE10 which in turn sort of explains the vitriol she received from the fandom #but that's for another post lol else it'll be too long #basically FE10 is more Ike v.2 than a game where Miccy is the Lord

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shepherds-of-haven · 6 months

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How would each RO's fan base react if MC dates their idols? And what would MC's fan base think if they date some RO? 😅

Blade's fanbase: I think reactions from his fanbase are mixed, ranging from either envious and salty (like "nooo I was supposed to be the special one who unlocked his ice-cold heart, this isn't fair!!") to resigned acceptance because the special treatment was obvious to anyone watching closely enough, so it's not exactly a surprise

Trouble: completely non-surprise, it was sooo obvious for so long, they'd most likely "adopt" MC as part of their fandom and ship/worship them from afar as a couple... except for Rovyn, if you've read Trouble's latest day off 😭

Tallys: I think it would mostly be mystification, like "HUHHHH since when were they interested in each other?? what made Tallys break down her walls and go after MC, who's not even another Elf??" I think they'd be more rabid for details and consumed with curiosity than anything!

Shery: there would be much wailing and gnashing of teeth, it'd be like watching a much-beloved daughter go off on her own and marry into a different household, the mourning and loss would be intense 😭

Riel: honestly I feel like 90% of his fanbase would be very happy that Riel can actually find romantic happiness with somebody, I think his fans worry about him and his health and want him to find someone because they mostly entertain no fantasies that that person would ever be them, lol, if they're fans of his then they're already well aware of his impossible standards 😂 So they would be very pleased for him and likely approving of the relationship!

Chase: there would be much salt from his fanbase and many mutual reassurances along the lines of "don't worry, we know his pattern, it's just a hookup, this won't last, no one panic!!" and the longer it went on and the more committed and in-love Chase acted, the more the confidence would die down to a sour 'we all agreed not to talk about it' lol

Red: I think there would be much salt and bitterness, I'm guessing that in the case of fuckboys and players that the fans accept/love/embrace that aspect of them (believing that they'll never settle down and will be perpetual bachelors), and then when that changes, there's probably a sense of betrayed outrage, like they're not the same person or something anymore, lol. I imagine that the salt would be increased even more if Red and MC are exes!

Ayla: I think there would be a sense of noble acceptance and acknowledgement about it, like, "ah.... my fair Ayla... if that is your path to happiness, I can only step aside and wish you well from afar......" So generally they would just be happy that she'd found someone and could only wistfully observe her changes in demeanor as a result of finding love with MC from a distance, and with a faint sense of pride and approval, like

Briony: gnashing and writhing, tearing out of the hair and sobbing into pillows and etc. There are probably angry muttered discussions of challenging MC to a group (?) duel that never actually come to fruition

Lavinet: melodramatic theatrics and public declarations and fervent letters sent to Lavinet along the lines of "My dearest Lavinet, I thought what we had was special! How could you betray me thus? 🥺 What have I done to deserve such scorn from thee???" It's not personal to MC, it's just that Lavinet had a LOT of admirers sending her love letters and they all thought they were the only one lol

MC: I think this would depend on who MC was dating! If it was someone higher up in the ranks, like Blade or Riel (aka a co-Commander) or someone like Lavinet, Trouble, or Tallys (old guard, noble, etc.), it would be like "yeah I guess that makes sense... :/" but if it was someone less obviously "deserving" or "equal" to MC, there would be some "make it make sense!!!" feelings of shock. After all, MC is the Hero of Haven, they deserve someone who can equal their greatness!!

#Shepherds of Haven #hypothetical scenario #fanbase #popularity #admirer #admirers #romance options #MC

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thissharktypes · 9 months

Text

Spike (btvs) x reader

Sensitive crybaby reader x bitchy Spike lol GN reader College age Scoobies and reader

You swing your legs back and forth on the kitchen counter, nibbling on a peanut butter drenched apple slice while you watch Buffy, Giles and Xander bicker back and forth about the best way to dispatch of yet another group of vamps. The door swings open and Spike stalks in, boots thudding loudly enough to pause the chatter before they resume bickering. You hop down and trot over to Spike with a big grin on your face and a handful of apple slices. “Hi Spike! How are you tonight?” you chirp up at him, your smile faltering only slightly when he scowls at you, rolling his eyes and dropping himself down on the couch. You follow suit, sitting on the edge to give him space, you hold out you hand “Do you want an apple slice?” his mouth curls down in disgust “Can’t you leave me alone? Everytime you’re around it’s talk talk talk,” he makes a talking motion with his hand “Starting to think you’re just drenching your panties every time you see me at this point.” you retract your hand and stand up “Sorry Spike! I’ll leave you alone.” Your voice still bubbly despite the tears clouding your eyes.

Blinking rapidly you duck your head and quickly maneuver into the kitchen, busying yourself with making dinner for the group. Focusing on cutting veggies and stirring pots, picking out spices here and there, all these little things help you brush off another one of Spike’s outbursts “Hey, you okay?” Willow touches your shoulder gently and you nod “It’s fine, really! I know he’s just cranky today.” she sighs “Y/N he’s always like that, why do you keep trying to be nice to him?” you shrug, suddenly finding your shoes very interesting “I guess,” you hesitate “I guess I feel a sort of connection to him?” you squint at Willow “Before I met you guys I had nobody, I was just the weird kid.” You laugh softly “I know that deep loneliness, Nobody deserves that.” you whisper. Willow lets out a soft ‘awwwe’ and throws her arms around you. Out of everyone she had always been your closest friend, stumbling across her in the college library and immediately hitting it off by bonding over your similar fandom shirts you had both worn that day.

After a plan had been agreed on you set out bowls and plates, Willow trailing behind with silverware and cups. A big pot of pastina, fresh bread and a wonderful salad decorated your table. Cooking was something you took pride in, always so happy to share with your loved ones. But your eyes flickered towards Spike who had taken a seat near the end of the table, a spoon tightly grasped in his hand. You know in your heart that Spike could be kind, but the fear of him insulting the only thing you felt like you could offer to the group was rattling around in your skull.

Despite your hesitation you give him the benefit of the doubt and settle yourself in a chair too, letting everyone grab what they want before you serve yourself. Praises and compliments of how good it smells and how pretty everything is make you beam with pride “Okay okay enough talking, everyone eat!” you flap your hands dramatically. Everyone seems pleased with the food and casual conversations spark up before a groan followed by the loud clattering of a spoon and a chair being pushed back “I know the little one doesn’t have any useful skills for your merry little crew, but the food isn’t that good.” he turns on his heel and leaves, the door slamming shut behind him. All eyes are on you while you desperately try and keep a smile on your face while choking back tears, a hand slides into yours, you already know its Willow “It’s really good Y/N, you always cook for us when we’re sick or sad and it always makes us better, we wouldn’t keep coming over for meals if we didn’t like it.” Xander nods in agreement “You know me, I can’t lie about food.” he says through a mouthful of pasta and bread. You let out a watery laugh “Thanks you guys, It’s okay, I’ll keep trying. One day I’ll make him like me!” you wipe your eyes, ignoring the frustrated looks the group passes each other, all of them knowing you had spent every moment you could fighting to make Spike happy despite how much they all hated him.

Weeks pass, cookies laughed at, little clay sculptures insulted, clothing picked at, hair messed up, you took it all. Every last insult, every angry look, you tried so hard with your gifts, never giving up, until he took it too far.

Buffy had been gushing about some guy she met on campus, you and Willow sipping tea while the rest of the gang sat around the tv nearby “Ugh, I can’t even explain it!” she squealed happily “It’s like he’s perfect, and absolutely no vampy, demon-y, creepiness at all!” you and Willow give fake applause before you three melt into a pile of giggles “That just leaves you Y/N,” the red head wiggles her eyebrows “Everyone here has someone except you,” her nose scrunches “And crabby pants.” you swat her arm gently, laughing “I have a better chance at getting someone than that poor sod,” Spike shouts at the group “Nobody would pick such a boring creature like Y/N.” he snickers.

Your head swims, you have no idea why that hurt so much worse than anything he had said before. You stare at the table, trying to will away the sob that was bubbling up. Slowly standing, you push yourself away from the table, tears streaming down your cheeks. His grin drops as soon as he sees your face, but you’re gone, the front door flung wide open, silence falling over the room while your retreating figure gets farther and farther away. Willows fists clench, she had bit her tongue for the sake of you, but screw it “You fucking asswipe!” she chucks a plate at Spikes head, eyes wide, he ducks, just barely missing it “Every time Y/N does something nice you stomp on it! Do you know how hard they worked on every little gift for you?” her feet guide her in front of the now cowering blond man “And every single time you. made. them. Cry.” she jams a finger in his chest each time to punctuate her words “But they never give up, no matter how many times we all warn them about you they still pour their heart and soul into caring about you because they believed you deserved love and affection.” Willow snarls the last bit out, her rant more rage filled than any of her friends even thought she could muster.

Willows chest heaves, suddenly out of breath. She steps back, about to follow her friend outside before a hand stops her “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.” Spikes face is hard as he leaves, unsure of how to handle the new information.

Over an hour of searching with no sign of you, he kicks a nearby tree, bark and wood splintering into the air “Bloody ponce!” he rakes his hands through his hair, aggravated “Such a bloody idiot!” Spike paces back and forth, a slew of self hatred spewing from his mouth. A twig snaps but he doesn’t even notice “Spike?” you sniffle, eyes puffy and red “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” he whips around to face you, drinking in your pouty, quivering lips, how you’re hugging your elbows and shivering, the mud staining your pants. All this and your first thought is to comfort him? He has you pulled into his arms, face buried in your hair, gripping you against him, before you can even repeat your question. A muffled ‘Oh!’ as your face is smothered in his chest. You both stand like that for who knows how long, Spike’s fingers carefully running through your hair, pausing to unravel tangles or pull out little bits of twigs or leaves. You squirm, your legs hurting from holding you up for so long after running. He shifts and suddenly you’re both on the ground, you on his lap, now swaddled tightly in his jacket. Spike presses kisses all over your face before guiding you to nuzzle into his neck, he’s rambling and you’re barely able to catch each word “I’m so sorry love, I truly am, I shouldn’t have been such a wanker to you.” he tucks his jacket under your chin “I was…” he swallows “Scared, I ‘spose. You were just so sweet, absolutely dotting on me pet, I’m not used to it.” your hand curls into a fist, gripping his shirt “I’ve been right smitten with you since you tried to give me that dinosaur band-aid,” you smile against his skin, remembering that day “You had said somethin’ about you having ‘Ello Kitty ones too but you didn’t want me to be embarrassed.” he pulls you even closer “I kept everything, ate all your little treats too, took everything in me to not beg you to cook for me.” you pull back and look up at him with such a soft look on your face his breath catches in his throat “Really?” your voice is so quiet he almost didn’t hear you, but he nods, his now messy hair falling across his forehead “Pet… You scared me when you ran off, Willow put the fear of capital G-O-D into me, threw a plate at me and everything,” he chuckles “Your friends love you, so vocal about how much they care, made me a bit jealous I think.” he nods “I could write a thousand sonnets about your kindness and it would never be enough to even begin to explain how much I cherish you.” your lips are pressed to his the second he finishes. Wrapped in each others arms, soft kisses, sweet nothings whispered in your ears, everything you could have hoped for and more.

#spike btvs #spike x reader #spike btvs x reader #spike x reader btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #William Spike Pratt #William Pratt x reader

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bad268 · 3 months

Text

Publicly in Love (Frog Boys X Reader)

[Blank] in Love Pt 4

Fandom: RPF/Miscellaneous

Requested: Technically no, but I incorporated two requests from @youngcreatorlady and @goldenstarofthunderclan. I hope yall don't mind <3 Side note, I’m gonna start taking requests for Pezzy! I’ve been in a Pezzy mood and found out I really like writing for him lol

Warnings: none.

Pronouns: First person (I/me/they/them)

W.C. approx 220 each

Summary: Going public with the Frog Boys

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

<-Part 3

Puffer

“Are you sure this is the best way to go about this?” I asked, looking back at Puffer from my spot on his lap. We were looking at the screen where he was logged into his Instagram with a drafted post of the two of us. He thought the best idea was to hard launch on Instagram and hope for the best. “You barely post as it is. This will give everyone a heart attack.”

“Would you rather join a live stream?” He asked back rhetorically, knowing I would not do well under the live scrutiny. “This is just easier.”

“Easier for who? You, me, or your fans?” I laughed back as I leaned my head onto his shoulder.

“You and me,” he whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. “If we did a live stream, it would be an hour or two of straight questions. If we post something, I can log off and we can completely forget about it.”

“You are devious. I love it,” I chuckled, looking back at the caption. “What are you going to say?”

“I don’t know yet,” He admitted, “What do you think?”

“Fuck it, we ball,” I replied, straightfaced before turning back to make eye contact, “Hard launch edition.”

“That’s so bad!” He laughed, leaning in to hide his face in my shoulder.

“You never said it had to be good!”

Pezzy

Drunk Q&As were fun. Especially when it had been going on for a couple of hours at this point. Ever since I came back from visiting my family, my mentions have been blowing up with clips from the stream where I called Pezzy my favorite simp. It was while drunk that I remembered that Pezzy and I never confirmed or outed our relationship.

“Are yall roommates or what cuz damn I wish my roommate looked at me like that,” one of the comments read.

“Yeah, if his roommate also gets to go out with him,” I laughed, downing the last shot of soju. “I also get to kiss him, so that’s fun.”

“Fun?!” he laughed, almost falling off his chair. “Kissing me is fun?”

“What would you rather me talk about?” I quipped back. “I can talk about how mindblowing you are-”

“And that’s enough from you,” He slapped his hand over my mouth to stop me from talking. “You’re cut off. Don’t continue that thought.”

“I was going to talk about your bike but okay,” I groaned after I pulled his hand away from my mouth, but kept his hand in mine. “Anyways, chat. He’s mine, so back the fuck up.”

“So possessive, damn,” he laughed, pulling our intertwined hands up to place a kiss on my knuckles. “It's hot.”

“Nah, just jealous.”

Droid

“Guys, I swear to god,” I groaned into my pillow. I agreed to do a sleep stream with Droid weeks ago, but now, it was honestly hell. Not only was I so drained from the day in general, I was not feeling at all social to put up a facade for the viewers. My social battery was dead, and I just seemed pissed, probably. “Can we not play the Buzz Lightyear commercial nine times in a fucking row?!”

“That’s what that noise was?” Droid asked as he came back into the room with snacks and drinks. “Did yall make them insane or what?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I wined as I covered my ears. Droid set the drinks and snacks to the side as he laid down on his side of the mattress we set up. He also leaned over to the speakers to turn them down a couple of notches before leaning back. Once he was situated, I moved his arm, so I could lay into his side. “Chat, don’t. Just don’t fucking say anything.”

“Yeah, they’re allowed to do this,” He said into the microphone as he pulled up the chat on his phone, reading through some of the comments. “We get it, they’re cute and tired. Shut it.”

Despite the noise, it did not take long to fall asleep. And it certainly did not take long for the chat to notice either. However, it was not until chat started spamming at Droid did he noticed. “Guys leave my s/o alone. Be lucky they even agreed to this.”

Grizzy

Being on a panel at PAX AUS was a highlight of any creator. To have been invited was unimaginable. I was invited to be on a panel with the Misfits along with Grizzy and Smitty. We had flown in a few days prior (with a load of delays, might I add), and now, it was finally the day.

Sitting on the stage was surreal. With Grizzy on my left and Tobi on my right, we started answering questions down the line.

“Next question is for Y/n and Grizzy, technically,” the fan started. Immediately, I knew where it was going, so I lifted my hand that was already holding Grizzy’s onto the table. The fan began stuttering as they gestured to our hands. “Um, I think that answers my question.”

“If the question was if Girizzy and I are together,” I said just to confirm, and I was met with a timid nod from them, “the answer is yes. We have been together for a couple of months now.”

“And before anyone asks, technically, they made the first move,” Grizzy added.

“I thought you were asleep!” I objected, turning to face him while still keeping the microphone in my hand.

“That does not make it sound any better!” Grizzy and the rest of the group laughed.

“Trust me,” Fitz interjected, “that does not make it sound any less creepy. And I even know the whole story!”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up, all of you!”

Part 5 ->

~~~~~