not satisfied with this but i guess it's not that terrible either

Top 12 Most Unfuckable Men in Dragon Age (according to lesbians)

12. Zevran Arainai

Zevran is the least unfuckable man in Dragon Age because he wouldn’t make it weird. He’d give you a nice lay, do a good job, and then high-5 you afterwards. He’s nice-looking and experienced and would overall be an almost not-unpleasant experience. If there was a gun to my head and someone forcing me to pick a Dragon Age man to fuck, it would be Zevran.

11. RDP Sten

I say Realistic DAO Project Sten and not regular Sten because frankly RDP Sten is the true Sten. Honestly, look at this man. Assuming you didn’t die during intercourse, he’d make you breakfast the next morning, then reshackle your roof and do your taxes. RDP Sten would take care of you. RDP Sten would treat you right.

10. Justice

…as long as he gave Anders’ body a bath first, because wow he sure is a guy who lives in a sewer. Justice is a friendly Fade spirit curious about the mortal world and its many wonders. Fucking Justice would be a nice opportunity to show an otherworldly being a good time. Not to mention the novelty. Think of the puns you could make afterwards. “It was a spiritual experience.” “It was truly righteous.” “Justice isn’t easy–no, Justice is hard.”

9. Alistair

Alistair is inexperienced, but a nice boy. You could show him a good time, and then pat him on the head and give him a cookie afterwards. He’s funny and nice and if you aren’t his first lay, it’ll probably be Morrigan and she would probably turn into a spider halfway through just to fuck with him. I’m willing to fuck him just to spare him that being his first time. Alistair might make it weird and try to give you a flower or something, but he’s young and easily dissuaded. Fucking Alistair would be acceptable and satisfying in some ways.

8. Iron Bull

He ugly, but otoh, monster dong, if you’re into that. Iron Bull wouldn’t make it weird emotionally, but he would definitely make it weird sexually. Assuming you survived, you would have a hell of a story. I would bring that up at every cocktail party I went to for the rest of my life. “I fucked a minotaur man,” I’d say, sipping my martini. “He had an eyepatch, and a dong the size of your forearm. I’m lucky to have survived.” The party guests gasp and fan themselves at the scandal.

7. Nathaniel Howe

I have no feelings either way about fucking Nathaniel Howe. I would show up, do the deed, and leave. Maybe give him a thumbs up, to be polite. My entire soul doesn’t rebel against the concept, but neither can I think of any benefits to fucking Nathaniel Howe.

6. Sebastian Vael

I wouldn’t hate to fuck Sebastian, and he seems nice, I guess. He’d be on par with Nate, except for the fact that he’s a devout fantasy Catholic. I’m morally opposed to fucking Catholics, because I don’t like Catholicism, and because I don’t want to deal with their ensuing guilt. I would tolerate fucking Sebastian.

5. Fenris

Fenris is objectively one of the best-looking men in Dragon Age, but oh lord, the canon romance path is so much. I’d do it just so I could touch his pretty hair, but I’d feel real bad about it. I like fenris. I don’t wanna cause him troubles. On the other hand, Isabela seems to manage it without much emotional fallout, so perhaps it would be alright. Fucking Fenris might be perfectly fine, but it might end terribly for all involved. As a lesbian I’m not gonna risk it.

4. Anders

Anders is a nasty sewer man who has no particularly attractive physical features to make up for it. He’d probably be an alright lay, but if you fucked him he’d definitely fall in love with you. Possibly he’d have already been in love with you for like three years. Then post-fuck he’d say a lot of weird stuff and ask to move into your house, and you’d be so worried about his eating habits and his stress that you’d be like “sure :)”, and then you’d have to change your name and flee the city to escape. Don’t fuck Anders.

3. Blackwall

I previously had Blackwall a spot higher, but then when I went to google a picture of him I realized he actually looks okay. Lumberjack aesth. Nice beard. Probably nice chest hair. Good muscles. But he’s also kind of a stinky old man who is kind of like your dad, and he would make his weird guilt issues your problem. I’d rather not, although I grant that if he was a couple decades younger he might be Acceptable.

2. Cullen

I would really hate to fuck Cullen. I find him morally repugnant, physically unimpressive, and overall pathetic and vile. Not to mention that he seems like the kind of sexually inexperienced dude to just try inserting Tab A into Slot B with no foreplay–but then, would you really want foreplay from this guy? At least it would all be over within 5 minutes and then you could make your escape through the window.

1. Solas

Solas is the absolute most unfuckable man in Dragon Age. Not only is he bald, and a genocidal maniac, but he would also get weirdly hung up on you. Then he’d like, haunt your dreams. “Vhenaaaaaaan,” you hear every night forever, to your horror. “You’re not like other girls,” he says, before showing you a picture of his fursona, which is a wolf. I would rather do literally anything else but fuck Solas. I thank G-d every day that Solas is not real, and that I am in no danger of ever fucking him. Solas is the least fuckable man in Dragon Age.


by: @rosie-berber and @herpinkminkness

rating: explicit (for sexy times). also, be warned, lots of fluff.

read the whole darn thing on ao3

“Hola!” the friendly voice called from an adjoining room, hidden from view. “I’ll be right with you!”

“Thank you,” Castiel answered, walking up to the simple wooden counter, centerstage in the otherwise barren room. The hotel lobby lacks extravagance, sure, but the walls were painted a cheerful yellow, the color of the little faces in texts he sometimes received from Sam. A few pamphlets in Spanish sat in cubbies along on the wall, each promising a unique and beautiful experience of Costa Rica. But there was no pamphlet for the experience he’d planned.

“Thank you for waiting.” The voice belonged to a woman of effortless beauty, who had come sweeping out of the side room. She was dressed simply, her brown fuzzy hair pulled neatly into a poof of a braid, her dark eyes highlighted only by her long lashes. She let out a long breath as she flashed him a kind grin, before continuing. “How can I help you?”

“We need a room. Errr, a cabin.” Castiel struggled with remembering the right term - his Spanish was rusty. “For three nights. Do you have anything?”

“We?” The prod was good-natured, accompanied by a quirked eyebrow at his lack of company as she retrieved a dusty log book from under the counter. Yes, it seems they were quite off the beaten path. Perfect. Just what Dean needs.

“My, uh, companion is outside,” Castiel clarified and she nodded, taking a few minutes to detail the cabins she had available. He selected the furthermost one, lining the outside of the small area that comprised all the cabins, and facing the active volcano. It had been nearly dusk as they’d arrived at the offbeat site, and they could see trace amounts of smoke from it pressed against the orange sky. He’d left Dean outside to watch it. Just before passing the threshold to the lobby, Castiel turned to observe him, silently standing and watching it plume. Such a rare gift, to watch Dean taking a moment to just … be.

He found Dean in the same position in the barren area designated as a parking lot, eyes fixed towards the sky. Cas quietly moved towards him, juggling keys and a handful of pamphlets. The kind woman had insisted he take some, explaining that zip-lining and the sky bridges were some of the most beautiful in the world. They’d get to it - they had time. Now it was much more critical that they practice the near-unheard-of art of doing nothing.

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anonymous asked:

No offense but do you believe that Itachi has the right to sacrifice other people lives? And believe it is admirable thing? I like Itachi but for myself I consider this wrong on his part. I don’t stand for everything he does like you do. Sorry I know you mentioned your blog is place where you stated your opinions not for discussion but I need to understand more of your view on Itachi and his arc.

No offense but I have the feeling that every time I’m asked about Itachi my reply isn’t satisfying because it doesn’t follow tumblr “fiction and reality are the same thing” mentality and it doesn’t use the words “wrong”, “problematic”, “unacceptable”, which is never gonna happen.

(under the cut, pro-itachi, anti-antiitachis)

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Lipstick Stains On Your Heart

(my first shallura fic~ i feel like i probably flubbed some stuff here, but i really wanted to post something so pls bear with me. i’m also fairly bad at titles soooo sorry for that too.)


In another life, Shiro thinks, this would be a quiet Sunday morning. The window would be open, the sky would be clear and blue, and Allura would be settled at her vanity across the room, doing what she is now.

But he lives in the reality he does, which means he’s inside of a castle that’s also a space ship, he’s one of the leaders of the universe’s greatest hope, and he’s inside the bedroom of the princess of a lost planet.

Still, the moment is terribly domestic. 

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Hockey Camp - Auston Matthews (Part 7)

Auston Matthews x Reader

Word Count: 2671

Warnings: Some profanity, what else is new

A/N: This is the longest chapter I’ve written yet, but many important things happen, so stick around! Also, just wanted thank you for your enthusiasm for this story, and for all the likes, reblogs, and lovely messages you send my way :) it really helps me stay motivated to keep writing!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]


It’s been about a week since it happened. Or, nine days, seven hours, and forty-six minutes to be exact. Not like you’re counting or anything.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed in the cabin, watching Steph apply makeup. It’s Friday, and there’s some social event, movie night-type thing going on in less than an hour with everyone at the camp. It’s optional, however, so you’re definitely skipping out on this one.

Steph, on the other hand, has been freaking out about what she’s going to wear for the past two hours. Apparently Mitch said he would, “see her there”, and so she’s turned into a hectic mess, pulling out every bit of non-athletic clothing she brought with her, trying it on and twirling around in front of the mirror. Eventually, you convinced her that her olive green top and white tennis skirt were perfectly acceptable for a movie night.

She turns to you suddenly. “How does my eyeliner look?”

You glance up briefly. Her wings are perfectly even. “It looks great, Steph. Try not to stress too much.”

“Yeah, but I think my right wing isn’t as thick as my left. I’ve got to make them perfect.” She turns back to the mirror, sticking her tongue out as she drags the liquid liner across her eyelid.

“Steph, Mitch isn’t going to care about your eyeliner.”

“I know, but-”

“But nothing. He definitely already likes you, so he wouldn’t care if you showed up wearing a mismatched pajamas and eyeliner only on one eye.”

“Okay, you’re right” Steph agrees, putting down the liner. “Maybe I should just calm down. It’s just a movie night, not a date.”

“That’s only what I’ve been telling you for the past three hours.”

She rolls her eyes. “So, what are you wearing?”

You glance down at your go-to pj’s: grey sweats and a well-loved Maple Leafs t-shirt. “This?”

“To a movie night?”

“I’m not going.”

“What?” she cries. “Not happening, I am not going alone.”

“Steph,” you say firmly. “I can’t go.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “So what if Auston’s there? You don’t have to talk to him or look at him or anything.”

“Yeah, not like that will be hard or anything considering him and Mitch are attached at the hip,” you point out.

“If you really don’t care about Auston as much as you claim to, and truly are putting hockey first, then this shouldn’t be a problem. But obviously by the way you’ve been hiding from the boy all week, you have still have some feelings for h-”

You stand up. “I’ll go.”

Steph can barely conceal her smile. “I’m assuming you didn’t bring anything cute to wear with you.”

“Are we basing it off your definition of cute or mine?”

“What do you think?” Steph digs around in her pile of discarded clothes and chucks something white and lacy at you. “Put that on.”

Forty minutes later, you’re wearing Steph’s shirt, a white tank top that has a low cut v-neck lined with a tasteful amount of lace, your favourite comfy cardigan, and some jean shorts. Steph had curled the ends of your hair and you’d put on a touch of mascara and brow gel. You felt pretty and confident. So what if Auston was there? That didn’t mean you couldn’t have a good time.

“You ready?” Steph asks, sliding on her sandals. “I texted Alexis and told her we’d meet her and the other girls there.”

“Sounds good,” you say, taking one last glance at yourself in the mirror. Tonight would be fun.

As you and Steph make the short journey from the cabin to the rec hall, where the movie was being screened, you take in the peacefulness of the night. The moon hangs full and bright in the dark sky and crickets chirrup from the bushes surrounding the path you’re walking on. A warm breeze ruffles your hair. Sometimes you forget to stop and appreciate everything that life has to offer. You’re always in such a rush to leap from one goal to the next, that you tend to take the little things for granted - like taking a walk at night with your best friend and teammate, at the most elite hockey camp in the country. All the hours of hard work and dedication have brought you here, and will continue to carry you wherever you decide to go.

You sigh loudly, satisfied. Steph glances over at you quizzically. “What are you smiling about?”

“I’m just so glad we’re here.” You turn to look at her, and you see in her eyes that she understands the significance behind your statement.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.” She reaches over and squeezes your hand.

You squeeze back before letting go and hooking your pinky with hers. “D’you want to run? For old time’s sake?”

She doesn’t answer but takes off, nearly yanking your arm from its socket. You sprint to keep up with her, the two of you looking like idiots as you make your way towards the hall, laughing and swinging your arms around like little girls.

The hall is already busy, most of the players already milling around, grabbing their seats on the set of wooden bleachers. You and Steph greet Alexis and your teammates before getting in line for snacks. You force yourself to not look around for him, and instead keep your eyes straight forward, trying to decide what you want to eat.

You’re lost in the long list of chocolate bars when someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn around to face Mitch and several other of his teammates you’ve seen around before, but never formally met. For a half second, your heart drops, disappointed that Auston’s not with them. But why do you care so much? You should be happy he isn’t here.

“Oh, hey Mitch,” you exclaim, nudging Steph with your elbow.

She whips around and blushes as Mitch grins widely at her. “Hi Mitch.”

“Hey Steph.” Mitch looks down at his feet, suddenly reserved. “You look um…you look great.”

“Thank-you,” Steph says, tucking a strand of her hair shyly behind her ear.

“So Mitch, are we going to get an introduction, or are you going to stand around all night embarrassing yourself trying to compliment a pretty girl?” one of the blond teammates teases.

Mitch’s face goes red and he scowls at the blond guy. “Shut-up.” Mitch jabs a finger towards him. “Steph, Y/N, this obnoxious Swedish prick is Willy-”

“That’s William to you.”

Mitch ignores him, pointing to the second guy, who’s also blond, but has thicker, slightly wavy hair. “This is Kasperi, or Kappy as we call him.” Kappy is quiet, but gives a little wave hello. 

“And Brownie.” Mitch throws his arm around the redhead standing beside him.

“My actual name’s Connor, for the record.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you all,” you say, smiling. You turn to Steph, “What do you want to eat? It’s on me.”

She glances over at the concession. “Oh, um, I’ll have-”

“No, Y/N, don’t worry, I got it.” Mitch pulls his wallet out of his shorts’ pocket.

“So, you’re paying for us as well?” Will asks, raising his eyebrows.

Mitch gives him a look. “I think you can answer your own question.”

Will walks up to the concession stand. “Hi there, could I have a large coke and some sour cherry blasters? Oh, and could you throw a twix bar in as well? It’s on the guy behind me with the hat.” He grins and points to Mitch, who is not impressed.

The rest of the guys order their snacks, all the while Mitch scowls at them.

“Are you sure, Mitch? I don’t mind paying for myself,” you whisper.

He smiles and shakes his head. “Thanks for the offer, Y/N, but it’s alright. I’ll get them back for this, trust me.”

Once you all have your food, you make your way over to the bleachers. There aren’t many seats left, so you let Mitch and Steph squeeze into the space for two people on the lower bench, while you, Kasperi, Will, and Connor sit on the bench above them.

“So,” Will says, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s make a bet on how long it will take for Mitch to get the balls to ask Steph out. Thirty bucks on the table. Losers pay ten each.”

“I’m going for two weeks,” Connor says, taking a sip of his drink. “He always delays.”

Kasperi nods in agreement. “Same, but I think not until camp is almost over. Mitch…he overthinks things. Sometimes you just gotta go for it.”

“Okay, solid guesses boys, but for myself I’m gonna go with a week and a half. What do you think Y/N?” Will turns to you.


“Ooh, damn,” Connor exclaims.

You roll your eyes and continue, “Steph will ask him out before he does. Boys can honestly be more indecisive than girls when it comes to dating.”

“True,” Kasperi agrees. “That’s probably why Auston took so long to make a move, right?”

You freeze. Kappy notices and appears slightly perplexed. “I mean, you are Auston’s girl, no?”

“Um, no. I’m not.” You feel like you’re about to cry.

“Oh, I’m sorry. He just talks about this girl, Y/N, all the time, so I just assumed-”

“Kappy, shut-up,” Connor interjects.

“No, it’s okay.”

An awkward silence falls over the four of you.

Will steps in and directs the conversation elsewhere: “So has anyone seen the prequel to this movie? I thought the acting was terrible.”

Immediately, Connor pipes up: “Are you insulting my man Chris Pratt?”


With that, Connor goes off on a tangent about how excellent Pratt is in a number of films. The conversation is relieved of its tense atmosphere and you feel yourself relax again.

You catch Will’s eye and shoot him a grateful smile. He nods and winks.

The movie isn’t great, but it isn’t terrible either. Will’s sarcastic commentary makes up for the film’s lack of a plot line. You find yourself bursting out laughing one too many times, earning you glares from the other players seated around you. By the time the film ends, you’re both giggling at something stupid one of the characters said in a dramatic moment.

“Who even says that? His freaking cat just died!”

“I know. And he says it so seriously too. He’s all like…” You imitate the dumbfounded look on the actor’s face and Will cracks up.

“Whoever the casting director is, they should be fired, honestly. We could do a better job.”

“I really think we could. Screw hockey, Hollywood, here we come!”

You both laugh and then sigh. The hall is clearing out, and out of the corner of your eye, you catch Steph and Mitch walking out of the door, holding hands. You smile to yourself, happy for them.

“So, do you think I could get your number?”

“Huh?” You look up at Will, realizing he’s been talking to you.

“Your number. For casting purposes, of course.” He winks.

“Oh. Um, sure!” You dig your phone out from your back pocket, unlocking it and handing it to him. He does likewise, and you type your name into his phone, putting a little film emoji next to your name.

“There you go.” You hand his phone back. He grins at you, and places your phone in your hand. ‘Willy’ is his contact name, alongside a smiley face sticking its tongue out.

You’re about to say something else to Will when you see him. He’s standing near the exit, glaring furiously at Will’s back. The smile slides off your face.

“Hey, I gotta run. Steph just said she needs me to help her with something - girl emergency.”

He frowns. “I didn’t see any text on your-” Will starts, but you cut him off.

“See you later, bye!”

You speed walk around people standing and chatting in the hall and slip out the exit door, pointedly not looking in Auston’s direction.

You’re walking quickly towards the cabins, hoping you can avoid him, but you hear his footsteps crunching on the gravel as he breaks into a jog.

“Y/N!” he calls.

You ignore him and walk faster.

“Y/N, I know you can hear me!”

You stop and swing around to face him. “What do you want Auston?”

“I just want to talk.” He stands in front of you, his brown eyes so earnest and hopeful that you can’t say no.

“Okay, so talk.”

“Can we go somewhere else…like, a more private place?”


“Is by the beach area okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You both walk in silence. You can feel Auston glancing periodically over at you, trying to gauge your expression. However, you purposely keep your face blank of any emotion. You have to be strong.

When you reach the beach area, he stops by one of the benches facing the volleyball court. “D’you wanna sit down?”

You don’t answer but sit down on the bench, keeping your eyes forward and away from him. He does the same.

There’s a long pause. “Listen, Y/N, I just want some answers. You’ve made me very confused, and I’m not sure if it’s something I did or said that upset you, but I-”

“No - Auston, I already told you that you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I had to,” he insists, looking at you very seriously. “Why else did you run away from me? I thought everything was going great and then all of a sudden you just went cold. Unless…” he pauses, putting it together in his mind. “Unless you like Willy. That’s it, isn’t it? It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. Oh man, I feel like a total idiot.”

He goes to stand up but you stop him. “Auston, no. I don’t like Willy that way. He’s nice, but I literally met him today.”

“So you don’t like me is what you’re saying.”

“No, Auston, I do. You’re a great guy, it’s just-”

“It’s just better if we’re friends, right? Don’t worry, you don’t have to give me the speech, I already know it by heart.” He starts to stand up again, but you grab his wrist.

“Auston!” you shout, more harshly than you intend. “Would you stop jumping to conclusions for one minute and just let me explain?”

He sits down, very quiet.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. “Auston…I like you. More than a friend. I think you’re funny and incredibly talented and not to mention crazy hot. I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to someone in my life.” You drop his gaze, a sudden wave of shyness coming over you. “I can’t believe I just said that,” you laugh to yourself.

“So what’s the problem then?” Auston asks softly.

“The problem is…the problem is that I can’t be distracted. I’ve given up my entire life to hockey, and I’m finally on the verge of obtaining my goal, the dream I’ve had since I was a little girl. I got into this camp, and I was so excited, because here was my big break. But then you came along, and everything changed. Suddenly, all I could think about was you, not hockey, and that scared me. It fucking terrified me. I thought to myself, what happens if I miss my one shot at my dream because I’m pining after some guy? And if that happens, I know I will regret that for the rest of my life. I will never be able to forgive myself.” You pause to take a breath. Auston’s face is unreadable, his eyes cast downwards as he takes everything in.

“So that’s why I ran away. That’s why this,” you say, gesturing between the two of you, “isn’t going to work.” You stand up, giving him one last apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”

And with that, you turn and walk away, leaving Auston alone on the bench.

[Part 8]

Fic: Nor Iron Bars A Cage

Title: Nor Iron Bars A Cage
Pairing: Sonadow.
Notes: Inspired by the Sonic Forces trailer. I am a terrible person. Hashtag sorrynotsorry.

“I just wanted you to know,” The blond woman said as she unlocked the gate, the GUN emblem on her shoulder glinting faintly in the sullen yellow light, “I never agreed with any of this.”

“I know, Topaz,” Rouge replied gently, “It’s ok. Thank you for this.”

Topaz looked at her, then at the silent, grim-faced black hedgehog who stood behind her. “You realise that this is the point of no return, right? They’ll chase you to the ends of the planet after this.”

“There’s no other choice.” Shadow said suddenly, his voice surprisingly soft, “GUN have gone too far with this. It has to stop. Now.”

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silverdragonms  asked:

The UT/US/UF/SF bros world's got reset and UT sans, UF sans, US pap, and SF pap wake up from a nightmare of the last timeline. What do they do/their bros do?

(*Sorry this took so long!  This ended up being completely angsty, with just a smidgen of hurt/comfort if you squint.)


Sans jolts awake, his left eyesocket lit up with a vibrant blue that illuminates his dark bedroom.  The covers are tangled around him, and he’s breathing heavily, clutching the phantom lingering pain across his chest.  

It all comes rushing back.  The betrayal, the helplessness, the despair–all of it pits into a lead ball in the depths of his SOUL.  It takes a full minute for him to calm down, to dismiss his magic and stop his bones from rattling.

H o w   m u c h   m o r e ?

He pushes himself from the mattress, pulling his legs out of the covers without untangling them.  They end up in a wadded-up ball in the center.  Sans needs to check on Papyrus, to make sure he’s alive and well.  If there was ever one good thing about the RESETs, it was that all the damage is undone.  Except his.

A quiet peek inside the bedroom confirms that Papyrus is, in fact, sleeping quietly in his racecar bed.  Sans remains in the doorway for a moment, before he slowly pads inside.. and sits down beside the bed on the floor.  Papyrus is softly snoring, oblivious that anything had even happened.

… That, in countless other lives, he’s died.

Sans remains like that for the rest of the night, just leaned against the side of the bed, staring straight ahead and drawing comfort from the sounds of his brother breathing–of his brother living.  By the time morning comes, he’ll be stronger and his brother won’t be the wiser; Sans will have left the room.  There will be a few days of reprieve before the human comes through, and when they do, it’s a toss-up on whether or not they’ll show Mercy.  Either way, he’s given up on trying to change things.


Sans wakes up with a vocal shout, bolting upright in his bed.  With a crimson flash, a Gaster Blaster is summoned, floating directly by his head and making a soft whirling sound as it draws power within its maw.


The voice causes Sans to flinch, and with a string of muttered curses, he dismisses the Blaster before it can tear a hole through the wall.  It takes him a second longer to get his flaring magic under control, but by the time his brother literally kicks down his bedroom door, Sans’s eyelights are back to small red pupils.  

“h-h-hey boss.. uh..s-sorry, did i wake ya?”  Red’s voice comes out hoarse and thick with sleep, his nervous stammer kicking in at the sight of his furious brother.  Papyrus’s gaze is scanning every inch of the bedroom for an intruder, but when he finds Sans alone, his scowl deepends.


“i..i, uh.. fell out of bed..”  He’s so flustered from the nightmare–which he knows to be just another reality–to come up with a more viable excuse.  Red’s looking anywhere but at his brother.

Edge, of course, isn’t satisfied with that answer.  His eyesockets narrow.  "..ANOTHER NIGHTMARE THEN.“

"wh-what?  no, no, i..uh.. nothing like that,” he finishes lamely.  Papyrus is still staring, unconvinced, so Sans clears his throat, shifting to loop his arms around his knees.  "i’m fine.  you.. you can go back to sleep, boss.“


With that, Edge strides off, leaving Sans to stare after him.  A moment passes, and Sans releases a breathy chuckle, reaching up to scrub his hands over his eyesockets.  "my bro really is the greatest..” he mutters, before he stands up, slips on his jacket, and goes downstairs to join Papyrus on the couch.


Stretch jolts awake from a nap on the couch, with Blueberry standing in front of him, holding a platter of glittering tacos.  "PAPY!  I MADE TACOS FOR US, AND–OMPH!“  The air rushes out of Sans as Papyrus abruptly clutches onto him, dragging his brother against his chest in a tight hug.

The last thing he could remember was the feeling of his brother’s bandanna wrapped around his hand and the overwhelming scent of dust overtaking his senses, coating his bones, and clogging his nasal cavity.  

He had misstepped.  He had broken the routine, the script.  Papyrus had decided to warn his brother, to try to get him away from the human, but–


Sans turned toward him right as Papyrus reached out.. and the hit with the dull Toy Knife tore all the way through his brother in a violent flash of crimson.  His brother looked completely surprised, one gloved hand gingerly touching his chest, while Papyrus grasped his shoulders.





He exploded into dust all over Papyrus.

.. And then Papyrus killed the human.

This wasn’t a RESET.  
This was a LOAD.

“PAPY?”  Blueberry’s voice came out a little uneasy, and Papyrus realized he had his face buried in his brother’s shoulder.  This was unprecedented.  He had gone through the song-and-dance several times, but whenever a RESET occurred or he had a nightmare, he always kept it from his brother.  He couldn’t let him even begin to shoulder this kind of burden.  He just couldn’t do that to him.

“heh, sorry bro.  i interrupted you while you were trying to taco me.”

Blueberry didn’t look entirely convinced, so Papyrus pulled back and forced his lazy grin into place.  Then he took a taco and ate it, giving his bro a thumbs up while he chewed.  Sans was so excited over the fact that Papyrus liked it that his eyelights formed into stars and he launched into a quick ramble about how he prepared it.  

Stretch tried to shake off the terrible foreboding feeling.  Unfortunately, he had tipped his hand when he tried to break the cycle and save Sans; now it was obvious that he remembered everything.  

The real question was.. did the human?


Papyrus wakes up, gasping and automatically slapping a hand over his mouth.  It wasn’t that often that he slept hard enough to have a nightmare.. so surely that meant that the RESET was fresh.  With the way the timelines kept jumping, it was difficult to tell anymore, and sometimes, memories overlapped.  What day was it?  What had happened right before he went to bed?

He tugged absently at his own collar, grounding himself.  

This wasn’t something he could let Sans know.. Not that his brother would believe him.  If he told the MALEVOLENT SANS that a mere human was able to kill him despite his LOVE, he would only be pissed off and order him to stop confusing fanciful nightmares and reality.  

Oh, how he wished they were only nightmares.

Papyrus teleported outside, where the sudden chill of Snowdin felt good against his flushed face.  He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, deciding to chance Sans’s wrath over the smell of smoke.  His fingers were shaking, and he needed something to steady his nerves.  He wasn’t allowed the luxury of falling apart, so he had a limited time to pull himself together, to let a subdued sense of apathy ease back into his being.  

*heya, hun.  you’ve been busy wrecking this place, haven’t ya?

*i guess this is what happens when people like me take it easy, huh?

He exhaled a giant plume of smoke, driving away the thoughts.  His free hand rubbed at the back of his neck, phalanges dipping beneath his collar.

The phantom pain from the strike that’s beheaded him countless times never really goes away.

heydoggydoggy  asked:

Oops I sent the massage by mistake lol. Btw can you do GD with 60 and 62, please? :D

“If you can’t sleep… we could have sex” & “Are you going to talk to me”

I feel like GD requests are a trap…You guys know he is my weakness. 

Originally posted by peaceminus8ne

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title: minor insecurities
fandom: miraculous ladybug
summary:  Ladybug is desperate to keep her personal life separate from her crime-fighting partner, but its hard sometimes. There’s so much more behind the mask than a simple identity.
notes: this isn’t even good i am so sorry.

you can also find it here



“Your hair is longer now.”

Instinctively, Ladybug reaches up to touch the ends of her pigtail. She doesn’t have to reach back very far, Chat is right. The ends drape over her black-spotted shoulder.  Her fingers run through them measuredly and then she turns to glance at him.

“What about it?” she asks, confused by his sudden turn in topic.

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Boy in the bath

Author ladyoftheteaandblood.

One shot. If you want to know how bad my mind gets at 1 am this will let you know. I would like to apologize now.

It was one of those great parties, you know the kind that start in the pub and wonder on to someone’s house. They go on into the wee small hours and beyond, and only end when everyone has found a place to crash. 

You meet new people and have conversations about everything and nothing. You dance to records and CDs from someone’s collection that contains gems from the past, and music that perhaps should have been left there. Who cares its fun, and watching your best mate do the “Birdy song” dance with some suited and booted idiot was pure joy, especially as you took photos.

Now its 4am and all you can hear is snoring, as every chair and tuft of carpet is covered in sleepy bodies, sprawled out all over the place. There is only the occasionally laugh and the sound of lovers comes from a bedroom and that’s it.

On this particular occasion I was last man/girl standing and now even I needed a spot to crash but first a pee!

Wow! I stepped into a beautiful, old fashioned Victorian bathroom that had room enough to have its own party in.  I sat myself on the loo and sigh with relief, five bottles of lager and whatever that blue stuff was, have finally got to the bottom. 

“Er hum” came a voice from somewhere in the room, I came out my happy, dreamy state very quickly

“What, who?Oh shit!”  I hadn’t looked around properly when I’d come in and there in the bath was a man. It’s amazing how quickly you can sober up!

The guy lay there grinning at me. Me sitting on the loo with my fashionable jeans round my ankles, doing what I had to do. Worse still he was not some guy you wouldn’t look twice at, he was hot, really amazingly hot.

“Hi, needed to pee.” Wow no shit Sherlock, great opening line.

“Um I can see, sorry I hid in here and sort of forgot somebody might need it” He then laughed with embarrassment.

“Well look away Mr and I’ll ……….do what I came to” 

He was at least a gentleman and allowed me to finish the job, not even looking  as I wash my hands. 

He only turned to me again as he heard the door open.

“Hey pretty lady don’t go, stay and talk, I’m guessing everyone else is asleep now and I’m full of life again.” I looked at the lean figure in the bath that for some strange reason, known only to himself  had on his boots and sunglasses. He removed the glasses  and gave me a really cheeky smile with blue eyes that twinkled. Oh what harm could it do I thought.

So sitting on the side of the bath at his feet end as I felt it was safer, we started to talk. Why had I not seen him at the party? Was my first question

“Well I never arrived till late and stayed mostly outside smoking, watching and I’ll most likely be gone before daylight” 

He doesn’t smell of smoke. In fact the smell coming from him is divine and very, come give me a hug but I am drunk and therefore my senses are not to be trusted.

As I shifted to a more comfy position, I manage to knock down something from the baths side. Picking it up I find it’s a garden gnome.

“Wow creepy little fellow”

“Yup they’re all over the place” he says happily. 

Looking around I can see he’s right, how did I not notice the hoards of  nasty little gnomes in this room before?. 

They’re in all the corners, on the windowsills, the cabinet tops, under the bath, peeping out the laundry basket and all round the taps, just staring at me, with their hairy faces and beady eyes. Sinister little fuckers.

“Oh God I hate gnomes, they always seem like they are watching you, checking out your every move, just waiting to get you with their mind control thing.” I said to him, childhood bad dreams of attacking killer gnomes from next door’s garden resurfacing.

“Wow! and I thought the little shits were just perverted deviants, into Dogging” we  both giggled, and he carried on,

“I can handle an innocent rubber duck in my bathroom as much as the next guy but these fellow’s with their horrid hairiness and dreadful fashion  sense, weird me out”

Those Gnomes had to go, so for the next ten minutes the two of us, me still mostly drunk, collected them all up and placed them in the bath, turning on the taps.

We told each other it was either to put them out of their misery, or wreck  their communication devices. Their little faces looked at us through the water and didn’t seem so happy.

“That’s it, that’s the last one” he told me as he place a particularly ugly gent in a tartan suit and spotty socks, with the others in to their watery grave

“Shit! no it isn’t, there’s one more above the linen cupboard” He shields me from its steely gaze with his body then said,

“Quick make out you are kissing me, I think he’s rumbled us” at which point he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me to him into a warm lingering, tongue roaming kiss, with his large hands wandering gently over my back and neck.  He sure did taste as divine as he smelt.

Kisses continued and turn into playful touching, going on to clothes removal and ending up with a bolted bathroom door, and a satisfying shag on the towels and floor mat. 

Curled up in a makeshift bed of bathroom linen and discarded clothes, we both noticed that the last repulsive gnome standing was a grinning one.

“Well we’ve made his night, that’s not a fishing rod he’s holding” my new companion informed me.

Giggling and feeling contented from booze and cuddles, we both fell asleep in a  tangled pile of arms and legs.

I woke up freezing cold and aching, the floor was hard and boy was my body complaining. 

Someone was banging on the door.

“Come on I need a piss, there’s a bloody queue out here”

I looked round for my  bath buddy but he’d gone and strangely all the disturbing short guys in their terrible outfits, had made it back out the bath and were back in place. They looked at me from their various posts, creepy and threatening as ever. 

Grabbing my clothes and pulling them on, I left the room as soon as possible. I ignored the comments from the people outside the door and went off down stairs in search of my mate I’d originally come with, and more importantly the sexy guy.

She was in the kitchen with many others, holding hot cups of black coffee in the vain hope they would revive them and relieve their throbbing heads.

“Hey you, where did you go?” She asked

“Found a friend in the bathroom if you get my drift” 

“Well where is he, or was it one of those hideous little gnomes I saw in there last night? I always knew you were weird.” She laughed at me

“He was here. He was all tall and sexy, dark haired, some facial hair, white T-shirt jeans and sunglasses. Oh and boots, I found him in the bath” 

“No one here like that I’ve seen, how much did you have to drink last night?” and she went over to get the toast that had just popped up from the toaster, making everyone round it jump.

I started too asked around and all I got was a big no, except from the host who went white and refused to talk to me.

It was as we left that the host’s boyfriend came up to me looking really angry.

“Bloody nasty trick to play on her, she only lost her brother a year ago yesterday. The party was supposed to take her mind off it. He somehow drowned in the bath, it was terrible and she found him.

Then you go and tell her he’s still in there with those bloody gnomes he use to nick from people’s gardens, how could you?”

“But there was a guy in there” I splutter, “really”

“Oh just piss off” 

We left quickly, my friend angrily dragging me away.  I looked back at the house as I went down the path, and just in the corner of the bathroom window was a creepy little gnome in a tartan suit grinning at me.

@angreav @anovinebo @angryschnauzer @peskipixi @booksandcatslover @munchkin80 @jdmookami @clojury @eve1978 @snugglyhiddles @the-haven-of-fiction @ladywyldfire @vampirewithbedsidemanners @heathermc13 @ancientfinnishgoddess @damageditem @tomforachange @oeffsee @ourladybinxthings @itsnerdgirl6044 @servent-alearika @siyoteodiara @tinaferraldo @feelmyroarrrr @fellowhiddlestoner @quoting-shakespeare-to-ducks @antyc67 @aggro-femme @prplprincez @lovehiddlesbatch @hisfireandblood @lolawashere @tomkurbikston @tomhiddleston-kikibfairy @tom-hiddlestonhq @lostinspace33 @jossisgod @yourdarksideisshowing @hotchpotch53 @larouau12

picture not mine I just played with it and the gif found on the tumblr nice app thing

Fic: The Wait

So, did Kindred Spirits yesterday and BOY HOWDY I LOVED THAT QUEST! I also woke up at about 3:00 am this morning and couldn’t go back to sleep (thanks to a combination of rum, beer, tequila, and about a hundred shrieking birds in the tree right outside my window), so I decided to write something related.

Spoilers, I guess?

The bit in “Death at Sea” about the player character’s name being brought to Sliske’s attention in the Second Age was fascinating to me (and I think it opens up a lot of possibilities story and lore wise, especially with the accompanying bit in Broken Home with the asylum guestbook). And then, there’s the whole implication that Sliske’s been watching the player from birth…

Anticipation intensifies.

So, I got to thinking about how this might pan out in Finley’s canon. Also, I like writing about creepy Sliske.

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goldengrasp  asked:

Can you write about the initial dreams or aspirations of each Stark children of this generation and how they changed (if they did) through the course of the series... In a perfect universe what would each of them get to be? I guess we don't know anything about Rickon, so you may skip him...

Well, I’ve covered a bit of the “perfect universe” subject in this question asking what if the plot never happened, though that’s less “perfect” and more “normal”. But re changing dreams and aspirations… that is interesting, if terribly sad. So, in age and in sequence:


  • To be a good heir and eventual lord of Winterfell (but in no hurry to do so)
  • To rescue the Riverlands and free his father and his sisters
  • To be a good king and protect the Riverlands and the North, to rescue his sisters and take revenge on the Lannisters
  • To go home, get rid of the ironborn in the North, and take revenge on Theon

Perfect universe: Has fun good-hearted adventures, marries a nice girl, has a bunch of nice kids, and becomes Lord of Winterfell around age 40 or so. (There are no Others or return of the Long Night, no lords ever rebel, and there’s no invasion of dragons or anything of the sort. A boring, ordinary life, but nice. And long.)


  • To be the best son of Ned Stark he can (without imposing on his trueborn siblings), to maybe one day learn more about his mother
  • To be the finest Night’s Watchman ever (and a ranger); modified to be the best NW per the Lord Commander’s orders
  • To survive, to protect the Night’s Watch and the north
  • To be the best LC, to keep the NW safe and the North safe and all of humanity safe from the Others

Perfect universe: Robb’s trusted counselor, has fun good-hearted adventures, perhaps marries (well enough) eventually, hopefully learns about his true parentage from Ned one day in a way that doesn’t destroy his self-image, is respected and cared for.


  • To be the finest lady and have a life like a song
  • To one day be the best queen with a handsome king husband and raise lovely little princes and princesses, and have a life like a song
  • To survive, to be reunited with her family, to go home
  • To survive, (and escape), and go home
  • To be Alayne (deep inside: to be Sansa), and one day come home to Winterfell

Perfect universe: is the best queen to a good and worthy and loving king husband, raises fine and lovely children, helps the smallfolk and is loved by all (like another Good Queen Alysanne). (also, never lacks for lemoncakes.)


  • To not be a lady, to be allowed to be herself and respected for what that is
  • To not be a lady, to have justice
  • To survive, to be reunited with her family, to go home
  • To survive, (and have revenge), and go home
  • To be no one (deep inside: to be Arya), and one day come home to Winterfell

Perfect universe: something that makes her happy, whatever that may be (perhaps a lady warrior with the Mormont women, perhaps Robb’s counselor, or other possibilities that don’t usually exist for women in ASOIAF since it’s not a perfect universe in any way even at its best). If she marries, it’s by her choice to a man who respects and loves her for being who she is.


  • To be a knight, maybe even a Kingsguard one day
  • To be a good ruler of Winterfell in Robb’s absence, to have his family come home, to sleep without nightmares, (deep inside: to walk again)
  • To survive, to find the three-eyed crow (and walk again), to protect his companions, and one day go home
  • To fly, to understand and see, (and one day come home to Winterfell)

Perfect universe: perhaps becomes a squire to his uncle in Riverrun, and is eventually knighted, has fun good-hearted adventures. Either returns north and keeps a stronghold for Robb (maybe founding a cadet branch of House Stark), or marries in the south and holds a castle there, or becomes a Kingsguard (perhaps to the king of his sister Queen Sansa?). Is always a true knight.


  • To be with his family with lots of hugs and sweets and puppies (just because he’s 3 doesn’t mean he doesn’t have dreams and aspirations)
  • To have his father and sisters come home, and for Bran to wake up, and for his mother to please stop being so sad and be his mother again
  • To have his father come home and his mother come home and Robb come home and for everyone to stop going away
  • To survive, and one day come home to Winterfell

Perfect universe: a path like Bran’s (minus the knighthood probably), has lots of fun good-hearted adventures with his family, and eventually holds a stronghold in the North and maybe founds a cadet branch of House Stark. Has lots of family and hugs and sweets and puppies.

(um. Well, I’m going to go cry now.) Hope that satisfies!

Part 1, Chapter 10: Thistle

Near the Nevada border, I pulled the truck to the side of the road, cut the engine left the AC on. It is so hot here! Opening the window feels like opening an oven to see if it’s ready for bread – how it feels like you’ve been slapped in the face? Like that. You know, Alice.

I’m staring at my hands. They’re just my hands, like I’ve always had, but…also there is something of Heaven to them, because not that long ago they were touching your hands. How could they be ordinary hands and also hold that memory at the same time? Doesn’t make sense.

I can’t drive while I tell this. Too much to say. I’m going to tell it all Alice. Even the parts you know. I’m going to describe the shape of the monster that is devouring me.

And then I’m going to start this engine, and leave that monster behind.

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Long Con

submitted by prodigal!anon:

Umm sorry it’s terrible, I haven’t written things in so long and it was like an engine trying to turn but not turning!  And it’s too long but if you’re patient and get all the way to the end that’s where the Stuff happens
Publisher’s prerogative: I’m crossing all that out because it’s simply not true. I’m going to demand more things like this out of you, just FYI, because this is glorious and I adore it. (Words: 3,000)


Dean showers forever, idly re-soaping himself over and over, letting the water run over him until it turns cold, because Sam isn’t here to hog the hot water himself with all his girly hair-washing needs, and because it gives Benny time out in the other room to collect himself and – well, drink his supply of blood, probably.

They’d been out chasing a Shtriga for the better part of a week, part of Benny’s bid to join in the fun of hunting monsters again. Running his bakery satisfies him, for the most part – and satisfies Dean every time he stopped by – but Benny occasionally still gets the itch to just hunt things, bad things, and take them out. So the two of them had rolled out, leaving Sam to his boring research on another thing, because that’s what Sam does and anyway Sam and Benny are still kind of weird around each other.

Except that this Shtriga had taken a while to find, and then it had turned out to be a freakin’ nest of them, which was news to Dean that they even do that, and it could have gone south in a hurry but for Benny’s presence since he had no life force to absorb and it threw the Strigas’ tactics. Benny guarded against the shrieking monsters so Dean could snipe them with iron rounds, but in the process the vampire took a number of hits that tore big nasty chunks out of him. He was reeling all the way to the Impala, and quiet the whole ride back to the motel, though he assured Dean it would be fine as soon as he had a moment to “freshen up,” as he put it lightly. From the moment they got in, he’d made a beeline for the mini fridge that was stuffed with Dean’s beer and little bags of blood, and Dean had excused himself to the bathroom, not particularly wanting to watch.

So now Dean has cheap motel soap washing away the stink of Shtriga and smoke while Benny guzzles blood, and Dean is generally okay about it. He could do without the horrible damage done to his friend, but ultimately they’re both in good shape and successfully did a hunt together post-Purgatory and that puts him in a good enough mood that he sings a few lines of Aerosmith, earning a muted laugh from the other side of the door and an irritated pounding on the wall of the next room.

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Savin' me - Part I


Fandom: The Hobbit
Pairing: Thorin x reader
Sequel to: Trying not to love you [Part 1] [Part 2]
Based on: I gotta say, I found this blog a few days ago and can’t stop rereading your Thorin fics! If I may, I’d like to request one,a Thorin x Reader, perhaps a continuation of Trying Not to Love You- reader and Company go into mountain, and as Smaug chases them he taunts the reader (and Thorin) cruelly about Thorin only loving gold, abandoning them once the mountain is his, being used- and the reader is what looks like killed by Smaug as the reader attacks him in anger, but Thorin finds out she’s okay! I’d love to see Thorin’s horrified reaction to thinking that the reader is dead I’M A SUCKER FOR THAT and only to nearly break down when they find out the reader was fine. I’D GIVE YOU ALL THE GOLD IN EREBOR FOR THIS. Poor Thorin can’t catch a break with these imagines. THANK YOU SO MUCH!! - kingthorin-oakenshield
Notes: none
Words: 2.826
Part II: [x]

Author’s notes: Ok, SO. First of all I really want to thank you for your words >.< And let me add that I am of the same opinion: I’m also a total sucker for moments in which one of a couple seems to die and the other one almost breaks down, but then the first comes back and… wow. Said that, I really wrote too much for this story too, and I had to divide it in two parts (yay, like its prequel!). The second one is a work in progress but I hope to be able to post it soon.
I’m not lying when I say I’m not very much satisfied with this story either. It’s a bad period for writing, I guess… I’m sorry. I really hope it’ll pass soon. And I also you won’t find this one-shot too terrible. Thank you for your request!
[I do not own the gif]


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anonymous asked:

Idk what you're referencing but currently, it's not at all hard to see how some attitudes towards women and gender in queer/trans communities push the idea that gnc/butch women aren't women and should transition or id as nb. I see it a lot

So here’s my feelings about this entire recent rise of like a sort of Cherrie Moraga style “border wars” kinda thing.

Like there are so many like vague ideas that get banded about with no specificity, because to like actually talk in any meaningful specifics would like immediately make the claims either much more noticeably awkward, or the statements are just passed on as like axioms that people agree w, even if they are agreeing to v. different things.

So, I guess what I would ask here is, who do you really think is doing the pressuring here? Because this argument rests on like extremely nebulous “queer/trans communities” (or, as has been talked abt my others both now and previously, ‘trans activists’ or even more vaguely ‘queer theory’).

Because like, one option is that you have this argument that lots of cis people are pushing gnc women to transition or to take on a nonbinary identity. To me, this seems to not really be the case in the majority of communities over the majority of time other than the hyper recent. Either way, like, I find this to be… strange, because most cis people I have seen interact with nonbinary cafab people have referred to them as women, and called them ‘she’ and other sorts of misgendering. It’s a v. specific set of people who would be like exerting pressure *to* transition or be nonbinary and respect that; if we are talking abt biomedical transition, I think there’s even the gatekeeping medical complex to grapple with if we aren’t talking about a specific set of cities over the last 5 years.

Another option is that trans people are recruiting! This could be talked about in a way that is like “trans men are trying to get other people to be men” which I mean, I’m not saying that that hasn’t ever happened but I have to wonder whether that pressure is equal to the general cissexism of the world/people’s families/jobs.

The other way that gets articulated, and tbh the one that I feel like is the dogwhistle that many people who obfuscate using phrases like 'queer/trans community’ or 'queer theory’ are talking about, is that trans women are forcing all of the butches to transition to satisfy our deviant heteropatriarchal translifestyle. I just really don’t see it functionally, but this is a popular choice and implication behind much of the handwringing over 'butch flight’.

It might shock you to learn that actually, I don’t really disagree with the idea that there is pressure on gnc women to like 'pick a side’ in some way. I think that this is because gnc people and trans people together are put in an extremely uncomfortable societal position that in many cases pushes us to make decisions that we might otherwise not have. I’ve talked at length abt the fact that I have felt a lot of pressure towards biomedical transition by virtue of the fact that there really is no societal place for where I was. At the same time, there is also pressure (including legal, medical, insitutional, etc) against transition built into the entire framework of our society. There are always contradictory competing pressures enacted on us (this is tru even for gender conforming cis people!). Just because there is pressure that exerts itself as a process of normalization does not give people the right to buy into harmful ideologies.

Like, I know I’m doing things that I might or in all likelihood will have to backtrack on, and like believe it or not, i can see that as a matter of personal responsibility and survival in a world that is difficult to live in for people who are gnc and trans (and for trans women, this continues into trans-ness in a way that it doesn’t for many trans men, thanks in part to the people that these former trans men are now flocking to, but that’s another issue).

Believe it or not, the actions that we perform, even when done under the constrictions and difficulties of evil systems, are a matter of having to own the responsibility of our actions, and are not an excuse for hating marginalized people (here I’m saying, trans women). Like, no one tied any of these people down and forced testosterone into them, no one beat them until they asked for neutral pronouns; to a certain extent, these are actions taken in some sense voluntarily. Like, I’m not trying to be harsh, but the entire situation reminds me of when my mother used to ask 'if people were jumping off of a bridge for no reason, would you?’

I do think that the current situation is harmful insofar as it proposes biomedical transition as a sort of 'all or nothing’ situation. Of course, the people flocking to an ideology that wishes to close access to biomedical transition completely aren’t terribly interested in giving people more options that might have fared better for them; to a lot of these people, the desire is to somehow save face by finding a scapegoat (the genderists! [ie trans women]) in the face of a rising conservativism and allying themselves w their preferred flavor of reactionary movement. I have zero sympathy for people who decide the way to confront their own accidents or mistakes is thru attacking other people’s ability to live, or allying themselves w people who do.

Like, that’s the entire idea of informed consent; you consent to the process that you sign onto. And while yes we are all making decisions based on like a sub par situation, I think that pretending like there is like actually no agency is just like completely ethically disingenuous and dishonest.

edited to add that yeah like this doesn’t even really address the existence of butch trans women but like that’s an obvious necessity in framing the convo like this

topazlight  asked:

Oops I stopped reading the list like halfway through but also 40 is one I'd be immensely interested in hearing your answer to.

What’s that? How would I fix Crisis Core? Wow you caught me completely off-guard on this subject I clearly have never thought about before, guess you’ll have to bear with me!

Prequels in general should contribute context and understanding rather than just a series of things that happened, and Crisis Core did not do that. It wasn’t very good at being about anything, when it should have been pretty clearly about one thing: Shinra is terrible, and working for them is a spiritually and morally corrosive experience, regardless of how apparently decent you are as an individual

In VII we see Shinra kick a puppy every couple hours, but their real bone-chilling atrocities all stem from a complete disregard for life beyond that which is exploitable. Their real damage is expressed through the characters we meet that they have destroyed. A prequel’s the perfect place to look at that in greater depth, and from the inside. 

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I’ll Make You Love Me Pt. 9

**Author Note**

I added some subtle hints in here…I wonder if anyone will notice them. *eyebrow waggle* Oh, and I decided to write it from sans’ POV.

**End Note**



Anger burned hot within your rib cage as you stormed after the trail, vision glowing red. A few thoughts echoed in the back of your skull as you followed the path. This is too easy. Their tracks are too clear. It’s like they want me to follow them.

“shit.” you mutter under your breath as you walk into a clearing, gaze immediately falling on the human.

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