#getting off my soapbox now thanks

[awsydawnarts]

I hate you weight loss ads I hate you packaging that prominently displays calorie content I hate you menus that don’t show how much something costs but instead show the calories I hate you magazines that blast weight loss strategies in your face I hate you influencers promoting detox teas I hate how the world is so unfriendly to people recovering from EDs who are just trying to get through their everyday life without being reminded about it under the guise of a “fitness girlie” lifestyle

#tw eating disorders #tw disordered eating #I’m fine btw mutuals don’t worry it’s fine #I just get so frustrated with how all the fitness lifestyle crap that’s so popular today has created this environment where it’s so easy to #develop orthorexia #one minute you think that the world is getting better about this shit but then one of those fitness girlies pops up and you realize we’re #still doing the same stuff just packaging it differently #I recently performed coffee in my schools nutcracker and i would almost argue that my mindset going into it about my body was WORSE than it #would have been 10 years ago bcs yeah now no ones going to SAY that you’re supposed to be thin #they’re just going to judge you for not having a fucking six pack #bcs it’s just so easy and it’s this cute quirky lifestyle that you can just achieve #and it’s so healthy #it’s good for you #i don’t think the fact that I wound up doing ab workouts every day for a month was super healthy thanks #and all the stuff I mentioned above was so fucking unhelpful #I’m just going about my day not worrying about whether I’m going to hit this fitness goal and then bam some food is in my face telling me #how many calories it has and how it’s so HEALTHY #when that wasn’t something that was on my radar AT ALL at the moment #anyway #getting off my soapbox now thanks #mine

[fourraccoonsinacoat]

Not sure if this is a hot take or not, but I'm going to say it. Astarion is more than his trauma and he doesn't need to be treated with kid gloves.

I say this as someone who relates hard with his backstory, and as someone who has heaps of C-PTSD from years of abuse.

I love his soft moments and absolutely think he deserves to be with someone who makes him feel safe, physically and emotionally. But, I also love that he's an asshole, is flippant, is egotistical, is rash and that he is flawed. It makes him into a fully realized person.

A person who, rather than being fixed, needs someone who will accept him and be patient with him. A person who, rather than needing a protector, needs someone who will give him a safe space to figure shit out and make mistakes.

As someone who struggles with sexual trauma and body autonomy issues, the way the fandom treats his character sometimes really makes me cringe. People with sexual trauma are still allowed to want and enjoy sex, whether it's with a longterm partner or a one-night stand. That's okay, just as long as it's their decision and they feel safe. People with sexual trauma are also allowed to be hot, and people shouldn't be made to feel guilty for thinking so.

Unless someone is being a creep, I'm always flattered when I'm complimented on my looks. It makes me feel good about myself and I'm not ashamed of that.

People with trauma are allowed to be strong, capable, successful and powerful. They are not damsels in constant need of soothing and saving. They are also allowed to be flawed, ignorant, rude and capable of making really dumb decisions. I've made plenty.

They are also allowed to be motivated by more than just their trauma.

Let's not take Astarion's autonomy away once again by making him into this fragile little lamb who is in constant need of hugs and soothing.

Let him be a sassy asshole who is capable of protecting himself and the people he cares about. Let him be more than just a damsel in distress and actually listen to him when he says he wants his autonomy.

Autonomy also means being seen as something more than a fragile babygirl in constant need of protecting.

#thank you for coming to my ted talk #i'll get off my soapbox now #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur’s gate iii #baldur’s gate 3 #astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion x dark urge #astarion x tav #trigger words

[icarus-showmethemoon]

Hey! You got a post circulating right now about talk to each other more on this app. That's pretty cool so hi there and thanks

I do not use this social site socially enough as it stands

Boop I suppose :)

thank you!! honestly i think a lot of people are realizing after boop day that this social media site has become pretty antisocial, even for the userbase here, itd just be really nice to see people talking to each other more! im trying to actively make an effort towards it, and even tho i dont usually have much reach (that post has more notes than anything else ive posted, like ever) i hope that my post and all the posts like it will make people a lil less scared to reach out!!

also boop 💚💚

#i know i for one get rlly intimidated by the mutual culture on here? w all the posts specifying interaction w mutuals only?? #it makes it rlly scary to reach out #but like... it seems like most ppl on here are also lonely #and it doesnt have to be that way #anyway im off my soapbox now #thank you for the ask!! #eli chats

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

i’m so frustrated with people’s lack of common sense about wildlife. if you’re interacting with wildlife, you’re not having your disney princess moment. you’re not forming a magical bond. that’s a wild animal who is potentially terrified; maybe it’s curious if it’s young enough, but that just means you should minimise interactions as much as possible to make sure that animal lives a normal life. if your kid comes in holding a wild animal, don’t pick up your fucking phone to videotape it. bring the animal back outside and educate your kid to leave animals alone. you know what happens when you take in wildlife as a “pet”? either you keep it and do damage because even though it’s “tame” it’s a wild animal who is in no way meant to live in that setting unless it’s being kept by a trained and licensed rehabber who knows the housing and feeding requirements (and even then i’ve seen some who are keeping animals irresponsibility), or it ends up at a wildlife rehab when you inevitably harm it enough that you don’t know what to do, or when no vets see you, or when the animal becomes too aggressive for you to handle. and then we either figure out how to rehabilitate an animal whose temperament and/or body you have massively damaged or we euthanise it because the damage is too extensive. start treating wildlife like wild animals rather than a dog or cat. they’re not pets, they’re not domesticated, leave them alone and let them live happy lives as they’re supposed to.

#saw a video of someone’s kid bringing in a baby raccoon and holding it to her chest. what the FUCK are you thinking #‘it’s mine now it’s my pet’ and everyone in the comments is going ‘you heard her that’s her pet now’. fuck all the way off #not only does that harm the animal but that makes it very possible for animals to spread diseases to you or your actual pets #not to mention parasites and fleas #there was one the other day of someone getting a rabbit out of a skate park which is good thanks for helping it. but then the person spent #another 5 or 10 minutes interacting with it and petting it. that’s not a pet store bunny that’s a wild animal and it’s absolutely terrified #im not saying learn body language and temperament and shit for a bunch of different animals im saying have some common sense and leave #wildlife alone. look but don’t touch. if an animal looks to be in distress then contact a local wildlife rehab or any rehab at all and ask #for advice. if there’s a rehab near you then see if you can bring the animal in #if you try to do that shit yourself you can do irreparable damage #it’s all fun and games and ‘oh im keeping it as a pet’ until the animal is malformed and has broken bones and infected wounds or is so #aggressive that it’s taking chunks out of people with no warning #‘this wild animal andomly attacked someone for no reason!’ you see how it’s overweight? people have probably been feeding it and when that #person didn’t have food it jumped on them #someone’s gonna do this shit with a ‘sick bird they plan to nurse back to health’ and get fucking bird flu #im just tired i haven’t been working with wildlife for a year and am going to study wildlife and work with them for the rest of my life for #this shit to keep happening. i know it will but im just tired of seeing it over and over again #my post #y’all can rb if you want im just pissed and on my soapbox

[tvckington]

yes we all agree that rooster teeth can suck a dick, but nothing would make me more happy if everyone could show up for the premier of Simple Walk 2!!!!! i am very close personal friends with Nick (and his wife Shelby who is like a big sister to me) and i would appreciate it so much if you guys could show them some love.

#bunny talks #rooster teeth #thanks for listening #i am getting off my soapbox now

[birchbow]

Thank you for PoF it literally rewired my brain a normal amount eons ago when I first read it. Every time I make a new character for anything and I start to worry maybe they're just a little too unhinged, I remember PoF, and know that I'm valid and so are my insane little horny characters 😌❤️

I am so excited that you say this because it's important to my heart! Insane little characters with strong wild opinions or reckless horniness or huge blind spots or weird personality quirks or frequent fuckups they often learn very little from are the heart of stories that keep my interest and provoke reaction from me as a reader!!!!

Let every character be a character!! I have never been more bored as a fanfiction reader than the other day, when I read a fic where only the villains were allowed to be rude or irrational or petty or angry without immediately apologizing in uniformly articulate and modern "I've learned what people are supposed to say in apologies" speak. Because they're a Main Character! They're a Good Guy! But sometimes good guys and main characters are going to fuck up!! Sometimes they're going to be bizarre! Sometimes they're going to be at odds with other characters who are Good Guy Main Characters, over things that may or may not be a big deal for their characters!

Listen!! Sometimes I write a character talking shit and I'm wincing the whole time, not just because they're being an asshole, but because I know they're going to double down on it later! Because they just,,, don't think or feel the same things as the person they're being an asshole to! Do I the author agree with one more? Probably! Do I necessarily have to resolve "and this one was right, so the other one apologized"? No! Characters conflict with the other characters! It's uncomfortable to write sometimes! But my level of comfort or discomfort with the uncomfortable is part of writing stories where THINGS HAPPEN and goddammit I am out here for things happening otherwise what is even the point. >8U

#ask time! #I'M SORRY I HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT THIS!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH! #you can have cool AU concepts all you'd like but if the characters therein are always in the right and do the right thing #versus the bad-guy no-good-traits never-a-person villains who have zero character or personality other than ''Mean Asshole Bad Guy'' #then it still feels like eating an enormous bottomless bowl of over-boiled plain oatmeal #LISTEN strip it down and I'm writing a fic about two trolls who are in a very healthy loving relationship. they communicate. they're in lov #but also: kurloz is smugly complacent in his blood-right to rule! gamzee is insecure and codependent and has a nasty buried temper! #He wants people to like him because he makes more effort than a lot of highbloods to be Nice and has friends across the hemospectrum #but he gets pissed off when lowbloods point out that being near him or the community he loves is very dangerous to them! #(why would you say that? HE'S been nice! he has lowblood friends! he's not even threatening you about being rude to him right now!) #and that's not a great way to be but it IS a way to be and I think it's a more honest and interesting one to turn around in my hands/brain #WRITE WEIRD LITTLE PEOPLE I'M CLIMBING DOWN OFF MY SOAPBOX NOW THANK YOU

[calamitydaze]

i feel dumb making a formal announcement but Hi to my discourse anons i think i’m officially done talking about the situation for right now i’m really sorry 🙁 there was a last batch of asks i really wanted to get to but i just can’t do it anymore

#i feel bad bc i know it’s been helpful for a lot of people and i hate leaving stuff unanswered #but it’s been a month and every time i talk about it i feel worse #i think it might be time for everyone to just make up their own minds and go their separate ways #but if/when anything new happens i’m happy to discuss that #and thank you so much for all the kindness people have shown me you have no idea how much it helped #anyway this is all very self important i’ll get off my soapbox now #bella talks

[always-andromeda]

What's your love language?

Okay, goodness gracious, I hate to be such a contrarian bUT. I haven’t really subscribed to the whole love language theory for like years now just because I don’t think the way it’s emphasized and used, especially for relationship advice isn’t always the most helpful?

Because honestly, out of the big five love languages, I prioritize almost all of them pretty equally? Like I don’t think any one of them fulfill me more than another? Basically all five have nearly the same amount of importance to me!

#askmeda✨ #anon ask✨ #this answer feels so pretentious of me but idk what to say #it’s true y’all #also the dude who came up with the love languages isn’t a licensed counselor or anything #he’s a guy who appointed himself as a marriage counselor at his own church #the love languages were very much desigend to cater to a heteronormative christian audience #okay sorry sorry sorry i’ll get off my soapbox now #thank you for the question!! <3

[webslingingslasher]

hey, i loveee your writings! i was wondering if you could write a fic or one shot of peter parker and reader getting into an argument based off of peter parker saying something to his friends behind readers back about reader that hurts her feelings? ending is up to you! thanks!

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii dunno how i feel about this

You were many things. 

Beautiful, talented, smart, caring, affectionate, loyal, honest, needy. 

Needy. 

Needy, needy, needy. 

Needy, he called you needy. 

Were you needy? You didn’t think so, but then again, would you be aware if you were? 

Maybe he didn’t mean it, it was a private conversation. He could’ve been just venting, ranting about small things. You’ve done it before with your friends, it could be harmless. 

But, god it hurt. It was so casual coming from his mouth, like it’s a common thought passing through his mind. 

“Hi petey,” you said with a hum, he had just left yours to hang out with his friends when he called. 

Silence drifted on the line. 

“Petey?” 

Shuffles, maybe a cough? Murmured voices, nothing too solid. 

“Peter, you there?” 

Laughs break through, you understand it was a buttdial. 

You were about to hang up but Peter moved around, suddenly the voices were crystal clear. 

“So, how is it with your girl, parker?” 

You think it’s Mark. 

It’s wrong to eavesdrop but if your partner accidentally called while they were about to talk about you, wouldn’t you listen, just for a second? 

Notes from future self, don’t. 

“Eh,” you imagine him rubbing at the back of his head, “good, good. It’s good.” 

Good? 

Good, that’s it? 

Good? 

You thought everything was great, wonderful in fact. When your friends ask about Peter you take your time on the soapbox preaching, he wants to end the conversation immediately. 

Is that a good sign or a really bad sign? 

“Just good? Don’t tell me she stopped putting out, I know how chicks are.” 

“Don’t talk about her like that, Logan.” 

Peter came to your defense, point one for parker. 

On the other side of the line Logan holds his hands up in surrender, “didn’t mean to poke the bear there, parker. Get your girl to suck your dick, you’ll be fine.” 

Next time you see Logan you’ll clobber him. 

Peter grunts, he’s never liked Logan and neither did the friend group. But every group needed that one person that was mutually hated so there was always something to joke and talk about. 

“She sucks my dick just fine, you sound jealous. I’m sure she’s got a friend that’ll pity fuck you.” 

Your eyebrows furrow, Peter doesn’t talk like that. At least not around you, is this what the ‘saturday’s are for the boys’ boys mean when they say locker room talk? 

Mark cuts back in, he lights up a joint. 

“I’m sure parker is just fine, he can barely rip himself away from Y/N.” He coughs on the smoke between laughs, Peter stays quiet. He’s wondering if he should tell his friends this, it’s nothing serious and it didn’t really bother him, and he didn’t want to say anything to you because he knows you’d take offense and stop it; and he’d miss it way too much. 

“Yeah, that’s kinda the problem.” 

He mumbled it, but he said it and what the fuck did that mean? 

You couldn’t stop now, you pray he doesn’t see you’re connected to the call. 

“Trouble in paradise? Do tell.” Mark offers the joint to Peter, he accepts it and passes it to Logan. 

“Sometimes I feel like she’s all over me and needs me for everything, I dunno.” 

Peter tugs at his hair, he’s not saying it right. 

“I think I feel like no matter how much I’m there it’s not enough, she’s so needy.” 

Gut punch. You took such a sharp inhale you have to stop breathing to make sure Peter didn’t pick up on it. You’re reeling trying to look at it from his side, you didn’t seem needy, but everyone’s idea of needy must be different. 

Sure, you do try to extend his visits for as long as possible but that’s because some weeks you feel like you don’t see him but for a few hours and you’re willing to scrape up as much time as possible. And because you love him. And sure, there have been times you ask him to do things or help you but you love watching him fix things around your apartment and have him take extra time to dote on you. And because you love him. 

You want to hang up, you don’t want to know why he thinks you’re needy. If you do then you’ll spiral and question everything you do from here on out. 

On Peter’s end he pulled his phone out to check to see the time, and if you’ve texted. His eyes widen at the screen, he feels like he stopped breathing before he whispered a “fuck” under his breath, he looked at the screen and tried to pretend it wasn’t real. 

It was. Bold and in his face, your saved name and small lettering below it, ‘call connected’ you’ve been on the line for six minutes. You heard absolutely everything, in a panic he hung up the call which was the worst thing he could’ve done, because now you know he knows, and suddenly you realized that if he thought you were needy you’d show him you weren’t. 

—----------------------------------

There is no surprise your boyfriend is pounding on the door. 

Not loudly, but constant and quickly, demanding to not be ignored. 

Like his four missed calls. 

After two straight minutes of his rapping you finally swung the door open, waiting for him to bombard you with reason and apologies. He looked surprised. Peter opens and closes his mouth, he doesn’t know what to say exactly.

Your eyebrow raises at his silence, “you had forty minutes, four missed calls, seven ignored texts, banged on my door for two minutes, and in all that time you didn’t think of one thing to say?” 

“I’m sorry?” He looks sheepish, he gave a tiny shrug. Hoping you’ll find him cute enough to be let off the hook, like a kid with cookie crumbs around his mouth claiming he didn’t know who ate them. 

You run your tongue over your teeth and click them, “yeah, no.” You try to swing the door shut and he foot catches it. 

“Baby,” he catches your eyes, his own look wet and sad. He looked remorseful for his words but didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.” 

You know what you want to say, you want to tell him that it hurt your feelings, that you didn’t know you were being that way, why he didn’t tell you, why he felt that way, a million things ran through your mind. 

But that would make him right. Needy about answers, about why he would think that. That would prove him right, and you weren’t needy, you didn’t think you were but anything he might deem as needy wouldn’t be done anymore. 

“It’s okay.” 

Peter pulls his head back, he’s unsure if you know what you said. 

“It’s…okay?” 

You nod, “yeah, sure, I understand, you were just venting, and I shouldn’t have been listening.” 

“But that doesn’t make it okay, because if you did that to me I’d be hurt.” 

But I wouldn’t do that, I only praise you around my friends.  

“Yeah, well, fuck around and find out, you know.” 

It feels off, this is why Peter didn’t want to tell you anything. He knew you’d pull away from him, you already are. 

“Wanna watch a movie? I heard there’s -” he tries to move around your shoulder to come in but you move to block him entirely. He looks at you half confused, half offended. 

You didn’t need him. He had plans with his friends and you weren’t about to prove them all right and have Peter come running back to you, like he always does, and try to fix things. 

This time Peter wouldn’t fix things, you were. It was clear what he didn’t like, so you’ll stop doing it. 

“Don’t you have plans tonight?” 

Peter snorts, “since when do you care? You always beg me to stay with you anyways.” 

Is that one? One of the things that made him think you were needy? 

Not tonight. 

“I won’t beg tonight then, go have fun.” 

Peter regrets everything about the past two hours, he should’ve stayed when you asked the first time. 

“I have more fun with you, lemme in.” Peter tried to push past but you were adamant he leaves. 

“Go smoke some weed with Mark, come back when you have the munchies. I’ll make cookies.” 

Peter shakes his head, “I don’t wanna hang out with them right now, I want to hang out with you.” He tries to move past you for the third time, you put a hand on his chest to push him back.

“No you don’t. You feel guilty and want to prove something to me or yourself or whatever, and I don’t need Logan thinking if you don’t grovel at my feet then I’ll stop sucking your dick.” 

Peter jumps in immediately, “that was fucked up, and I know I said some shitty things too but I didn’t want him thinking I wasn’t getting laid.” His eyes blow up, he moves his hands around, “not that that matters! Cause I’d love you no matter how much we had sex, but we are having sex and he-” 

You hold up a hand to stop him, “I don’t know where you think that’s going but it’s nowhere good. You’re just digging a deeper hole.” 

Peter’s voice is panicked, “there’s a hole?” 

You sigh and clasp your hands, you point them at his chest. 

“I’m not mad and I don’t need you here, I also don’t need you trying to make a point about not meaning it. You said it and you meant it, don’t lie to my face. Either man up or go back to your friends.” 

You were right, this is going nowhere good and Peter knows it. 

“This shouldn’t be a fight, right?” 

You shrug, “I dunno.” 

Peter pleads with you, he wants anything, something he can work off of. 

“I’m sorry, I really am.” He reaches for your hands and you let him hold them, he rubs his thumbs over the back of your hands. 

“Are you sorry you said it or sorry you got caught?” 

Peter doesn’t know how to respond yet, he doesn’t know how to be honest without offending you and he doesn’t want one thing to change. 

“I just….” He groans and tilts his head back, “can I please come inside?” 

You take him in and decide it’s okay for him to enter, your head looks at your roommates door to make sure it’s still closed. 

Peter flops on the couch and slaps the coffee table, you take a seat where he called and waited. 

“You’re not needy. Not at all, and don’t think I’m just saying that because I think that’s what you want to hear. Needy is the wrong word, it makes you seem annoying or unbearable and I promise you’re my most favorite person in the world, so it’s not that.” 

You whisper your words, your thumbnail being nibbled on. 

“So what did you mean?” 

“I don’t even know!” Peter stresses his point, you can see how upset he is, that he not only said it, but couldn’t place it. 

“I just think maybe,” he groans, he doesn’t like being vulnerable. He’s the strong one in the relationship, it wasn’t very manly to cry over loving your girlfriend too much. 

Peter rubs at his cheek and shrugs, “I don’t know.” 

Your eyes narrow, “liar.” 

Peter folds his cards, the only thing he has to lose here is you, and he will if he doesn’t be honest. But it’s a whole new level to him, a layer he’s about to peel back, one that isn’t so light and happy. It’s a side very few people have seen, he’s scared to show it to you. 

“Can we talk?” 

You look at him oddly, “we are?” 

“Private.” 

You’re confused but lead him to your bedroom. Peter didn’t know how to tell you he was about to cry, but when he did he didn’t want your roommate seeing it. 

You wait for Peter’s lead when you reach your room, he pushes you towards your bed for you to take a seat, he stands between your legs and cups your face. Peter tilts your head up until he’s looking down into your eyes, he looks troubled. A small tired grin hugged his lips, “hi baby.” 

“Hi, peter.” you whispered soft, his thumb brushed your bottom lip. 

He takes in a deep breath like he’s remembered the task at hand. 

“I’m about to tell you something I haven’t told anyone else, and it’s a different Peter than you’re used to.” Peter presses a kiss to your forehead and steps back, this time he takes a seat at your desk chair. 

“I don’t think you're needy. I don’t even know what to say, cause like, fuck… I don’t, look, spider-man has a lot of people that need him, right? And he works hard all day and has no one to share it with, but I do. I get to tell you about my shit days, and you’ll patch me up and I’ll pretend to leave just so you can ask me to stay over, and honestly? It feels nice to have someone who needs Peter and not spider-man for once.” 

You try to speak but he stops you, he looks like he’s about to cry. 

“I look forward to it too much. I fucking sit here and play pretend, like it’s a chore to spend time with you, and you always ask me how I do it so good and I’m just so used to hiding it. I’m so used to hiding this lonely feeling, like nothing is enough, and then I had you.” 

Peter shakes his head slowly, he wipes at his nose. Tears drop casually with every few blinks as he speaks, you want to hold him to you forever. 

“I didn’t have to do anything because you did, you made all the decisions I wanted to in the first place. I love when you ask me to fix things, and when you want me to spend every second with you, when you want me to skip a night out, when you get me to stay over for the third night in a row.” 

Peter wipes his eyes, he sniffs and breathes out shakily, this is what it’s about, right? 

“Baby, you aren’t needy. I am.”

“And you projected that on me.” It wasn’t a question. 

He laughs, a tear drips down his nose, he wipes it away.

“I’ve never felt so needed and wanted in my life, and I am so terrified I’ll fuck it up and lose it all.” 

You’d never do that, if the relationship ends it won’t be on your terms.

Finally you stand and sit on his lap, he welcomes you and for the first time you notice how tight he’s always wanted to hold you, forever stuck in his grasp. You straighten the collar on his shirt and fix his hair, his eyes shiny from his tears. 

“You could, you could fuck it all up and lose it.” 

You press your forehead against his, “but I need you too much.” 

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker angst #tasm!peter x you #my writing

[lionheartedmusings]

hey everyone! i want to first off thank everyone for your support bc it's meant a lot to me throughout this whole shitshow <3 in better news too, for everyone following the last 4 months of my life and how shitty those have been, i've been grinding my butt off over on twitch and i'll be eligible to get paid next month! not an insane amount, by any means, but enough to cover some bills which i'm so excited about because it means things are turning around.

as of right now, shit's still pretty rough and there's no way to get an advanced payout so i'll have to wait until the 12th for that. i've sold pretty much everything i could sell that i own, and i've been doing some odd translation jobs but it just hasn't even remotely come close to something livable for me. i have around 20€ to my name and that's because a friend was kind enough to help me.

i have to show up at everyone's doorstep on tumblr dot com standing at the doorway, but i know in a different time i would've urged anyone to ask for help every single time they needed it so i'm taking a page out of my own book and putting this out there in case anyone wants to help <3 it'd mean so much to me if you could reblog, but either way thank you for letting me step on my soapbox and have a beautiful day! this is my p*ypal <3

#financial assistance #financial aid #mutual aid #actually autistic

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Trigger Points

Pairing: Erotic Massage Therapist Ezra x f!reader (not romantic)

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Medical kink, massage kink (is that a thing?), erotic massage, mentions of sexual dysfunction and difficulty orgasming, consent forms, the clinical is erotic now, power imbalance due to the masseur/patient dynamic, mentions of uhhh *checks notes* anal massage, lots of vaginal fingering I mean massaging, pelvic floor massaging but make it erotic, dubcon only in the sense that Ezra says orgasm is not the goal and then definitely deliberately gives her one anyway, g-spot orgasms, squirting, Penny gets on her soapbox at the end

Summary: Ezra is a massage therapist. What kind, you ask? Internal massage. That’s it that’s the fic.

A/N: I wrote this in twenty-four hours in a horny unhinged writing frenzy. Am I embarrassed that this came from my brain? Yes. Am I posting it anyway? Also yes. Thank you to @littlebirdsbookshelf for the beta (and all of the screaming) and to @leslie-lyman for egging on the medical kink that I definitely don't have.

Masterlist

You aren’t sure what you’re doing here.

This isn’t like you.

As you stare at the nondescript building–no sign, no name on the door–you think back to the seemingly random circumstances that brought you here.

The party you hadn’t wanted to go to. 

The friend–acquaintance–who insisted.

The man with a distinctive blonde streak that kept lingering by the snack table and popping cocktail shrimp into his mouth with an enthusiasm that had made you look twice in wary amusement.

Like so many men, he’d taken your glance in his direction as an invitation to come over and start a conversation, but the resulting discussion was decidedly unlike any other man–or human–you’d come across.

Loquacious to the point of being humorous, the man–Ezra, he told you–was disarming and insightful. You opened up to him immediately; he seemed to have this uncanny ability to pull your life’s story from your lips, much to your surprise and chagrin. Did you really tell a strange man at a party that you’ve been from doctor to doctor, complaining of sexual pain and dysfunction, only to be given dismissive, unhelpful advice? Have a glass of wine, one said. Use different soap, said another. Make sure your laundry detergent is fragrance-free. 

“I think I’m just built wrong,” you said bitterly, taking a sip from your wine glass. “Anyway, it’s fine. You didn’t sign up to listen to a stranger’s problems at some house party.”

“On the contrary,” Ezra replied mysteriously, raising one eyebrow as he regarded you with amusement. “I think our fortuitous meeting must have been arranged by the universe itself.”

Fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, he had handed you a business card that had only his first name–Ezra, no last name, and a phone number.

“I just happen to be a certified massage therapist, trained to assist with the very complaints of which you speak.”

“What kind of massage?” you’d asked, scrunching up your face in skepticism.

“Internal massage.”

You may have told him to fuck off then and there. You may have made your excuses and left the party in your embarrassment over having spilled your heart to a stranger with a questionable line of work, to say the very least. 

…You may have called two weeks later to inquire about an appointment.

The woman who answered the phone in that same kind of warm, soothing tone that seems to be common in so many legitimate massage practices made you feel slightly less insane about calling. The lengthy consent form she emailed after hanging up, however, sent you spiraling again.

Extensive questions about sexual history, your beliefs about sex, your relationship to sex, your experience with pain, dysfunction, your sexuality, etc. Check boxes indicating your level of experience and comfort with a number of sexual acts and situations. And at the end, three check boxes asking whether you would like to be massaged vaginally, anally, or both. 

A bell tinkles pleasantly when you open the door, and the scent of lavender fills your nose. Soft, soothing music plays from a hidden speaker somewhere, and one of those self-contained rock garden water fountains bubbles away in the corner of the brightly lit waiting room.

A woman behind the desk greets you–it must be the same one you’d spoken to on the phone–and checks you in. She walks you through what to expect during the appointment–first, you’ll meet with Ezra to discuss the consent form, then you’ll be asked to disrobe and lay on the massage table under a sheet. The type of care you’re given, she tells you, depends on what you put down on the consent form, which of course she hasn’t read, so she can’t tell you any specifics. 

“But he specializes in women with sexual dysfunction?” you ask skeptically. It had said as much on the forms. 

“Oh, yes,” the woman nods enthusiastically. “I know it’s an unusual service he provides, but Ezra is a professional, conscientious, and passionate about the work he does.”

You nod slowly, and she flashes you a warm, comforting smile before instructing you to sit anywhere.

You do, trying not to look too nervous as you wait.

Thankfully, you aren’t there for too long before a door opens, and Ezra softly calls your name.

Your nerves cause you to babble as you follow the man to the quiet, dimly-lit massage room. “Sorry I told you to fuck off,” you say. “That was pretty rude, and I’m sure it’s weird that I’m here now even though I clearly thought you were a pervert at the party, and–” you trail off, standing awkwardly beside the massage table as Ezra sits on a rolling stool.

“Now, now. Water under the bridge, I assure you, sprite. My profession is often met with skepticism at best and outright hostility at worst, but I let the testimonials speak for themselves. I assume you’ve read them?”

You nod, thinking back to the paragraphs of women saying they’d never known their bodies were capable of such pleasure before experiencing what they had called erotic massage.

“And I have read your consent form very carefully; I like to commit these things to heart, you see. Helps me do my job to the very best of my ability. Now, I did have a question about your very last answer: you made a checkmark indicating you were interested in vaginal massage only, but drew in a little question-mark next to anal massage.”

“I’m not sure yet,” you say, too quickly, jumbling the words together. “Depends on how… how…”

“How everything goes. Of course.” Ezra nods, making a quick note on your form. “I’ll consider you to be a vaginal-only patient for now, to be revisited at a later date if so desired.”

“Kay,” you squeak.

“Allright, let me give you a rundown of how this works. I’m not a sex worker; my job isn’t to make you orgasm. Like any massage therapist, my job is to find muscles that need to be worked out, and work them out. I just happen to specialize in muscles that other areas of practice typically ignore. This will involve both internal and external work–you might find that I might press on your lower abdomen, for example, with the other hand inside you. I always start slow with new patients; I’ll begin externally, massaging the entire pubic area and finding spots that might require extra attention. When you’re ready, we’ll move to an internal massage starting with one finger and seeing how many is most comfortable for you right now. Eventually, as we progress through your appointments, the goal is for the internal massage to involve two hands.

“Now, all that being said, the goal of these sessions might not be orgasm, but I want to let you know that it is normal and okay if that happens during your massage,” Ezra continues. “This is a safe space, and your comfort and pleasure is encouraged through this process. All of that seem hunky-dory?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod rapidly.

“Perfect. If you’re ready to get started, I’ll leave the room so you can get undressed. You can undress only from the waist down if you’re comfortable, or you can disrobe completely; the rest of you will be covered by the sheet, so it’s all down to what you prefer.”

Ezra leaves, the door clicking shut behind him, and you take a few moments to steady yourself before taking off only your pants and underwear. Grimacing at the awkwardness, you tuck the underwear into your jeans and place your shoes on top of both on the spare chair in the corner of the room. Then, you lie down under the sheet and wait.

Ezra taps lightly to herald his return before opening the door. “Good,” he says, seeing you laying stiffly on the massage table. “I’m going to check in many times during this first appointment especially,” he explains. “So much so that you may tire of it. You may simply say ‘good,’ when I ask how you are feeling, and I will continue. If you do not feel good at any point, I must ask that you say so. Sound okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, this massage table is custom made for my area of practice specifically,” Ezra explains, reaching under the table and unfolding a pair of stirrups–the kind you’ve seen many times at the gynecologist–and you grimace.

“Ah, I know, most people on this table do not have the most positive memories associated with these,” Ezra tuts, “and if you aren’t sure about using these, we can simply rest your legs on either side of the table.”

“I think I’m okay,” you tell him, cautiously reaching your feet out until your legs are uncomfortably splayed open. 

“You tell me if that changes.” Ezra sits down on the stool and rolls it over to sit at the front of the table. “I’m going to do the external massage with the sheet down,” he says. “No need for a cold breeze if it isn’t necessary, after all. As discussed before, I’m going to feel around the entire pubic area, finding anything that needs extra attention. If you’ve gotten a regular massage, you might notice that this one is much gentler; there won’t be any harsh poking or prodding, just light pressure and rubbing. If that’s all good, sprite, say the word and I’ll begin.”

“I’m good.”

“Very good. First, we’re going to warm up a little by touching your inner thighs. All muscles in this area are interconnected, so this will help soften things up as well.” 

You keep your eyes closed and let out a slow breath through pursed lips as you feel Ezra’s large, warm hands slowly working out the tension in your thighs. The unfamiliar feeling of someone’s hands in such an intimate area is an odd one, at first, but you can’t help but slowly begin to relax as he works out the delicate muscles of the upper-most part of your legs.

“Checking in again, sprite, how are we feeling?”

“Good,” you answer, with a little more confidence this time. “It’s good.”

“Excellent,” Ezra praises. “If we’re feeling nice and comfortable about it, I’m going to start to move upward and inward. You’ll feel me touch your outer labia, your perineum, and your pubic bone as we move forward. How do we feel about that?”

“Nervous,” you admit, giggling awkwardly. “But good.”

“Of course, sprite, it’s normal to be nervous about an unfamiliar sensation. Always remember that you are able to say ‘stop’ at any time.”

At your nod, Ezra’s hands shift, his thumbs beginning to rub up and down the outside of your labia. He rubs little circles around the entire area, including–something that makes your entire body flush with heat immediately–the skin just above your little puckered hole. 

“I know, I know,” Ezra soothes. “Just trying to get a complete picture here. We aren’t doing any internal massage in this area, but you may feel my fingers on the skin around it occasionally.”

“Okay,” you agree, nodding again.

“You’re doing so well, sprite. I’m going to stay external, but we’re going to start to examine a little deeper, does that sound okay? I’ll be rubbing your inner labia this time, spreading them apart to examine your vulva, urethra, and clitoris with my fingers. This is where it might start to feel pleasurable, or it could feel odd and uncomfortable as you become accustomed to this type of massage.”

“Yep,” you say, voice tight with anxiety again.

“I need a little bit more than that, sprite,” Ezra chastises. “Are you good to continue?”

“Yes. Good.”

“I can tell you’re nervous; why don’t you take a deep breath in for me for the count of five…” he counts slowly as you obey, “...and as you let it out slowly, you’re going to feel my hands move inward.”

The feel of Ezra running his slicked fingers up and down your inner labia doesn’t feel quite as uncomfortable as you’d feared. You’ve never been touched like this, or even touched yourself like this. It’s an exploration of sorts, collecting some data that means something only to him, perhaps. After a short time, he pulls you apart with his thumb and forefinger, spreading you open. 

“I’m going to rub back and forth just on the surface level,” Ezra says, “You might feel my thumb press down on a few places to locate any areas to focus on later.”

You take more slow, even breaths as you feel his warm thumb move from your perineum to your clit, then back down again. In a few places, he presses down, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb as he locates some unknown source of tension.

“How well you're doing,” Ezra praises warmly. “I've definitely found some areas of tension that we can work on during your sessions. This isn't the end of the external massage, per se, as I'll still want to work on some of those spots, but this is where I start to add an internal component, if you're up to it. What are we thinking?”

“Yeah,” you agree. “I'm okay with that.”

“Good. As I explained before, I'm going to start very slow. I work with clients with a wide range of comfort levels and ability, and I'm not going to push anyone too far before they're ready. Not to be glib or reductive, but this is not dissimilar to a basic shoulder massage. I'll be working all along the muscles of your vaginal wall. We'll start with just one finger, and if that's comfortable for you, we'll see how it goes with two. I'm going to slowly slide one finger in, let you adjust to how that feels, and then I'll begin the massage on your right side, moving to the back, the left, and then the front, around in a little circle like so. At the same time I'll be gently pressing with my other hand so that I can get a feel for the muscles that are stiff, sore, or carry any tension. If at any point any sensation is unpleasant, please bring it to my attention immediately. In that event, I will stop and reassess. If that discomfort is the result of muscle or pelvic floor tension, we will slowly, slowly work through it without causing you any pain. Is all of this acceptable?”

“Yes.”

“And am I okay to begin your internal massage?”

“Yes.”

“Very good. Just as before, I'm going to spread open your labia nice and wide, only this time you are going to feel my finger slowly enter you. Once inside, we'll take a few deep breaths together, I'll ask if you are comfortable, and I'll begin the massage.”

As Ezra speaks, he does each action in turn. You feel your labia being parted, and then one slick, warm finger slips inside. It hits a bit of resistance when he passes your pelvic floor, but doesn't cause any pain. At his instruction, he guides you through three deep breaths as you become accustomed to the sensation.

“I'm going to begin moving now,” he announces. “Beginning on your left side.”

It's an odd feeling to adjust to, the way Ezra’s finger moves inside you. With his other hand pressing sometimes on your hip, sometimes at your side, you can feel him pressing against your wall in–true to his word–the same way one might massage a shoulder. This is just… very different. Or perhaps it's the same, and your brain only perceives it as such. 

Despite the awkwardness of having someone rubbing such an intimate, deep, vulnerable part of your body, you can admit that something does feel good about this. Ezra is right, of course; there are muscles internally as well as externally, and you've never had yours attended to in such a way before. 

Ezra’s finger rubs this way and that, covering all possible knots and tense spots on that particular side. 

“Checking in, sprite,” he intones gently. “How does it feel?”

“Weird… but kinda good. I think I understand why you say it's just like a shoulder massage–I never really thought about having muscles there, but… I can feel them relaxing the same way they would as… as if it were my shoulder.”

“No physical difference between the two,” Ezra says, voicing your earlier thought. “Only up here do we make a distinction.” He taps the side of his head and gives you a sideways grin. “If we’re feeling pretty good with one, would you like to try adding one more? It all depends on your level of comfort, but it is easier to get at the muscles with two, rather than one. Would you like to try?”

The gentle loosening of the muscles you hadn't even known were tense is surprisingly soothing, so of course, you agree.

“You're doing so well at checking in with me,” Ezra says. “Take a nice deep breath for me, and we’ll switch to two fingers. Ready?”

You make a little noise of assent, and as you exhale, you feel the pressure inside you increase as Ezra slips another finger inside you. 

“Doing good, sprite. I’m going to move to the muscles at the back of your vaginal walls now, which means my other hand is going to be pressing up on your lower back and buttocks. Is this fine?”

“That’s fine, yeah,” you nod, and at your consent, Ezra goes back to his steady, methodical working of your pelvic floor. 

At this new angle, the sensations inside you are new and different from before. When he was massaging your left side, all you could really feel was the gentle push and pull as your muscles were soothed and relaxed. You can still feel the muscle tension easing away… but it’s very quickly being replaced by a different kind.

You try to focus on taking deep breaths in and out of your nose as Ezra seems to draw heat into your core with every stroke. You stop focusing on the relaxation entirely, instead concentrating every effort to not make any awkward noises that indicate how much your body is responding to his touch.

You really should have known better.

“Many people find that different areas of the vaginal wall can cause different kinds of sensations,” Ezra says quietly as he gently rubs small circles from within you while pressing just above your puckered hole. “The front vaginal wall, of course, has the tendency to produce the strongest impression because of what most people call the g-spot, but the rear wall is also very responsive. I want to remind you of what we discussed earlier; that you are welcome and encouraged to lean into those feelings. It is common for patients to come to orgasm multiple times during a session, and can be helpful for further muscle relaxation. All this to say, sprite, you don’t have to work to suppress the fact that this feels pleasurable. Of course it does. It’s far more advantageous for you to allow it to happen rather than spend the session working to rein it in. Understand?”

“Y-Yeah,” you nod, trying to sink back down onto the massage table again and stop fighting against your body’s automatic responses.

Even so, you don’t really believe you could orgasm from just this. Hell, you can barely orgasm during sex even when you use a vibrator. Your body’s need for intense, prolonged clitoral stimulation is simply a fact. A law, as immutable as gravity, and no amount of “internal massage” would ever have the same effect. 

“If you ever do wish to revisit that last little question on the consent form, one type of treatment that can be incredibly effective is to massage the area in between, if you take my meaning,” Ezra comments lightly, as though discussing the weather. “It’s perfectly workable through what I’m doing now, of course, but even though I’m capturing the same general area, in my years of practice I’ve actually found that anal massage is an important component in achieving a comprehensive relaxation of all pelvic muscles.”

“Okay,” you say dumbly. His words–all the more impactful because of the detached clinical tone–combined with the constant pressure of his fingers, are creating a maelstrom of pleasure in your brain. You still aren’t sure if you’re “allowed” to find this entire situation to be incredibly erotic, but you worry you’ll soon have no choice, especially if your mind keeps conjuring up how it might feel to have both of Ezra’s hands rubbing something deep within you. How full you might feel.

“Nothing that needs to be discussed now or even in the near future, sprite,” he adds. “But just something to keep in the back of your mind as we progress through treatment.”

“Mm,” you agree. It’s–oh God, are you going to come? The pressure is building, building inside you, and even though there’s nothing touching your clit, it feels as though you might be reaching that point of no return. You make a soft, whining, desperate little sound as Ezra massages your vaginal wall with methodical precision.

“I know, I know,” he soothes in that syrupy voice of his. “Take a few deep breaths for me–I promise, it’s okay to let it go. Allow your body to do what it’s meant to do.” At this, he presses down even harder, and you gasp as you suddenly begin to clench around his fingers. Your chest heaves as you ride the waves of pleasure until they subside to a gentle ebb. Ezra remains still throughout it all, waiting patiently until you stop twitching with aftershocks.

“See? So much better when you listen to your body,” he praises. “Can you feel that? It causes your muscles to relax even further, so much more effectively than even I can manage. Feel the difference right here–” he rubs a wide circle up and down your wall, “–there’s so much less tension now, isn’t there?”

“Yeah,” you agree, still catching your breath.

“Let’s do a quick check-in before I move on,” Ezra suggests, “and while we do, I’d like to make a quick recommendation, if you are amenable.”

“That’s fine,” you answer. 

“Give us a quick run-down of how you’re feeling,” he says. “Any pain? Discomfort?” When you shake your head, he continues. “How about mentally? Orgasm can make us feel vulnerable, and that’s perfectly okay, of course, but not if it leads to feeling uncomfortable or unsafe.”

“It still feels a little… strange, but I’m okay.”

“Ah, of course. Now, as far as my recommendation… Now that you’re far more relaxed, I think it might be helpful to switch to three fingers. How do you feel about that?”

You swallow. “It might feel like a lot,” you admit quietly.

“Indeed,” Ezra agrees. “As a general rule, the more fingers I am able to use, the more effective the massage. The ideal internal massage would be either with all four fingers on one hand, or a combination of three and two. If you’re feeling at all apprehensive about discomfort, however, I think it would be better to wait and see, yes?”

“Yes,” you nod gratefully. 

“Moving on to your right side, sprite,” he says cheerfully. “Halfway there, and doing great.”

You can see what Ezra had been saying–you can feel that your walls are more pliant and moldable after your orgasm. However, it’s also made your nerves more sensitive to his touch, and the intense feeling of pleasure continues to flicker inside you with every gentle probe of his fingers. 

You begin to float, losing track of time and simply focusing on the sensations within you. Ezra quiets down when he senses your more meditative state, and continues to massage with minimal commentary. When his thick fingers begin to move, pressing upward toward your abdomen, however, your breath catches and your hips lift of their own accord.

“My apologies, sprite. I should have warned you I was moving to the front wall before I did so, but you were in such a state of utter relaxation that I was loathe to speak up.”

“S’fine.”

“You may find this area to be the most intense in terms of sensation,” Ezra comments. “There’s a reason I usually save it for last.”

You make a slightly garbled, strained noise of assent as his other hand rubs gentle circles on your mons pubis while the other continues its deliberate path up and down your walls, soothing out all of the tension and finding some incredibly sensitive spots as it does.

Ezra pauses over one such area, and, in such exquisite torture that makes you actually cry out into the room, curls both fingers up to apply even more pressure.

“Ah, that,” he chuckles to himself. “That thing–the little area they call the ‘g-spot’–it’s not some mysterious, unique phenomenon, nor is it mythological. What they didn’t know at the time–and far too many people still are not aware–is that the clitoris is much larger than just the little bit that we see on the outside.” His fingers rub little circles, back and forth, up and down, massaging so meticulously that it feels almost ruthless. “Sooo many nerves in one relatively small place,” he murmurs. “Stimulating the clitoris is normally the most reliable way to acheive orgasm, and yet so little of it is accessible. But here–” he presses up again, and you gasp, “–here we are able to access the other end of the organ.”

You can hardly concentrate on the original goal of muscle relaxation with so much pressure on your g-spot (or, apparently, the back of your clitoris) but you can still feel Ezra dutifully and clinically working out the tension in your pelvic floor. 

“Doing so well, sprite, so well. One nice, big, relaxing orgasm for me and then we’ll gently explore how the tension lessens afterward.”

Despite his insistence before your appointment that orgasm was not the goal of these sessions, you can’t help but notice Ezra appears to be guiding you towards one with masterful precision. With one hand applying light pressure on your abdomen and the other pressing upward to meet it, it feels as though he’s got the most sensitive organ of your body trapped between his fingers. He plays it like an instrument, each finger working independently to stroke different parts of the soft, spongy membrane. 

Finally, finally, the pressure becomes so much that you simply seem to implode; all at once, you clamp down on Ezra’s fingers like a vice as your lower back lifts from the table. A feeling of pure, hot, wet relief surges through you, and the release feels endless, as though your body simply cannot stop pulsing and contracting. Dimly, you realize that it must be the ruthless stimulation from Ezra’s hands keeping you suspended in what feels like a never-ending orgasm. His fingers press upwards, rubbing quickly and insistently back and forth against the sensitive organ, and the movement draws more and more rhythmic clenches that seem to ripple across the entire area. 

And–Oh, God–with each intense throb, little streams of fluid splash out over Ezra’s hand, and you realize with absolute mortification that the sheet, massage table, and Ezra’s white coat are already soaked with your release.

“Oh shit, I’m sorr–” you try to apologize as soon as you have the presence of mind.

“Now, now, not to worry, little sprite. Any manifestation of pleasure is welcomed and encouraged here, and I’ve been at this long enough to know that stimulating the back of the clitoris oftentimes results in strong and voluminous ejaculations…” You twitch with one last, pathetic aftershock, and Ezra soothingly rubs his fingers up and down your wall in the same way one might rub someone’s back after a long day. “But feel the difference, little sprite. Feel how supple and pliant your muscles are compared to before. This is the state we strive for, little sprite. Complete and utter relaxation. When you find yourself starting to tense up again–such is the consequence of the stressful lives we lead–I want you to call up this moment, and the way your pelvic muscles so easily move for my hand, and try to get back to this state. With enough practice on your own in between sessions, this will become easily achieved.

“I’m going to do a couple of nice, wide circles with my hand to stretch out those muscles one last time, and as I do, I’d like you to take some nice, deep, easy breaths with me. Once we get  to five nice big breaths, I’ll slowly remove my hand. Does this sound good?”

“Yuh-huh,” you nod.

“Nice big inhale,” Ezra reminds you, and you dutifully suck in a deep, cleansing breath of air as you feel his hand circle around your vaginal walls, pressing deep into the muscle as he does. You repeat the action four more times, and on your very last exhale, the light feeling of pressure within you finally abates as his fingers slip out of you. 

“How do you feel?”

“Pretty relaxed,” you say with a relieved laugh.

“Mentally?” he prods.

“I dunno, fine,” you shrug.

“Any feelings of vulnerability are normal,” he says as he stands from his stool and helps you guide your legs out of the stirrups and back onto the table under the sheet. “You may find that these feelings may be delayed by a few days, even, so be gentle with yourself for the next week or so. Light muscle soreness is also normal, in the same way it can occur after a normal massage. If at any time this light soreness transforms into pain, please do not hesitate to contact me.”

Ezra picks up your consent form again and scans it briefly before setting it back down and giving you a serious, thoughtful look. “You told me three weeks ago that you were ‘built wrong,’ and you mention several times in your form that you have difficulty bringing yourself to orgasm. Little sprite, I have lost count of the number of clients who have the same complaints and who have similarly insisted their bodies were simply different from ‘normal’ people’s. Now, mind you, the sample size may be biased, but from this data I can only conclude that no human being is ‘built wrong.’ The problem lies in our minds, and more specifically, in the social conditioning we’ve all received since birth–conditioning that in no way favors the female experience of pleasure. Society has failed you, has labeled your pleasure as secondary, illusive, impossible, or even imaginary. Your sessions with me will help to reverse the physical symptoms from a lifetime of unhelpful social conditioning, and now that you know your body is not only capable of experiencing pleasure, but of doing so in ways you weren’t even aware, your mind will follow.”

“Wow,” you breathe, awestruck by how different you feel. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“I’ll leave you to get dressed, little sprite,” Ezra says, briefly patting your hand in a comforting manner. “When you’re ready, go ahead and open the door and I’ll walk you to the lobby to schedule your next appointment.”

#ezra #ezra prospect #ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #pedro pascal #prospect fanfiction

[justmystyles]

Did you see the videos of Harry at the airport in Barcelona (I think?)? I hate people pushing and yelling for his attention ugh. But I got an idea for a fic. Plus size reader happens to be at the airport at the wrong time and gets pushed because of these people,Harry sees that and just goes into protective mode, they get to know each other and fluff at the end? Or his gf getting pushed and falling down and protective Harry

Anyways sorry if all of this doesn't make sense. English isn't my first language 🙈 but I love your style of writing and got this idea and just had to share it with you

The Battle in Barcelona

read my other work here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: a couple of curse words, but other than that, it's tame.

a/n: thank you so much for this ask, my friend! it absolutely made sense, and i appreicate you thinking of me to write this.

i absolutely did see the videos. totally heartbreaking. as much as i'll miss him, our boy needs a break, and i'm so happy that he's got that coming up soon. he's so kind and generous to his fans, and i know a lot of us get that and appreciate him for it, but there are also people who just use it as an opportunity to take even more and it just makes me so angry. anyways, i'm going to get off my soapbox and let you read what i came up with now. i hope you like it! 🖤

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

As your car traveled the streets of Barcelona, your head rested on Harry’s shoulder, your fingers intertwined. You could tell by his soft breaths that he was drifting off to sleep, so you kept silent, just enjoying being next to him. 

Love on Tour would be coming to an end in just over a week, and his multi-year hectic schedule was starting to catch up with him. He was moving a little slower, his eyes puffy and worn from lack of sleep, and he was spending more of his free time in the hotel as opposed to exploring the cities he was visiting. You knew that he had loved every second of the past few years, but he was definitely ready to slow down for a while. 

As you approached the airport, you heard the driver let out a whistle of surprise. You lifted your head to take a look out the front windshield. There was a large crowd of people on the sidewalk waiting for Harry. 

You took a deep breath before squeezing his hand gently and kissing him on the cheek. “Baby, I’m so sorry, time to wake up and turn it on.” 

You brushed a stray curl across his forehead as his eyes fluttered open. He smiled softly at you before taking a look out the window. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. Harry loved his fans, and he would take any opportunity to greet them and thank them for their support, but he could already tell that this crowd would be difficult. 

As your car approached, you disconnected your hand from Harry’s and slid to the opposite side of the backseat. He gave you an apologetic smile, you shrugged in reply. Because of Harry’s desire to keep his personal life private, you knew that he would want his distance in front of this many people, you understood and were fine with it. 

You respected Harry’s wishes, but moments like this made it hard, you knew he was tired and that the walk into the airport was going to be a struggle for him, and you wanted nothing more than to be by his side and hold his hand through it. 

“I’ll get out on this side and walk around. I’ll meet you inside.” You tell him. 

He reaches over, brushing his index finger against the back of your hand. “You sure you’ll be alright?” 

“Of course,” you assure him. “I’m a big girl, I can hold my own.” You pat your stomach with a smile. 

“Y/N.” Harry says in a warning tone. He loves your sense of humor, except when you turn it on yourself in a self deprecating manor. 

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly. “How about this then? I’ve held my own in my fair share of mosh pits, I can throw them bows with the best of ‘em.” He chuckles softly, a genuine grin growing on his face. “There he is. Now hold onto that for just a couple of minutes, and I’ll see you on the other side.” 

“I love you so much,” he says softly. 

“I love you too, always.” You say with a wink as the car comes to a stop. 

Before security can get Harry’s door open, you slip out the other side. You walk around the back of the car and watch as his door opens. He is immediately swarmed by people yelling and shoving photos and markers in his face. His security and the local police are doing their best to push them off, but they are relentless. Even Harry is pleading with them to back away, but it falls on deaf ears. 

Despite the rush of the crowd, Harry still takes the time to greet a fan in a wheelchair, signing an album for him and chatting for a brief moment. As you watch on, your worry morphs into awe of this amazing, selfless man. 

You’re so lost in the moment that you don’t realize that one of the officers assigned to crowd control has corralled you into the crowd of onlookers. As Harry finishes with the fan and pushes through the rest of the people, you snap back to the present and begin moving through the crowd yourself. 

As you reach the end of the mob, you’re held back by one of the officers. “No, I’m with them.” You insist, stepping forward only to be shoved back a little harder than needed, with a stern ‘no’ from the officer. 

You watch as Harry turns the corner, your mind racing. You know they won’t leave without you, Harry will notice you’re not there and send security, or someone else from the entourage to retrieve you. But the worry starts to sink in as you find yourself being engulfed back into the masses. 

You fight your way back to the front of the crowd, stopped in front of the same officer that stopped you before. You keep your eyes locked on the corner Harry had turned. Before long, you see him rushing back out of the airport, his eyes moving frantically, no doubt trying to find you. 

“Harry!” You shout, hoping to catch his attention as your voice gets drowned out by the cries and yells from everyone else. 

His eyes lock on yours, his expression panicked as he rushes back toward the crowd. As the fans and autograph-seekers reach for him, he grabs the officer holding you back on the shoulder tugging roughly. “She’s with me,” he shouts aggressively, grabbing your hand and rushing back into the airport. 

He’s practically running, his hand gripping yours tighter than he ever had, afraid of losing you again. As soon as you both turn the corner, and find yourselves away from prying eyes, Harry stops and turns, wrapping his arms around your shoulder and pulling you into him, kissing the top of your head. “I’m so sorry, angel. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine Harry, promise.” You assure him, rubbing his back softly. “You didn’t have to come back for me, you could have just sent one of the guys.” 

“Absolutely not.” He said in a clipped tone. “You’re my girl, it is my job to protect you and keep you safe. I’ve already failed at that once tonight.” You heard his voice waiver, followed by a barely audible sniffle. He was definitely crying.

You pulled away, looking up at his misty eyes just as a single tear broke free and rolled down his cheek. “Harry,” you said softly, placing your hands on his cheeks, wiping away the rogue drop with your thumb. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” 

He places his hands over yours, which are still rested on his face. He pulls them off and brings them to his lips. You see a swarm of emotions in his eyes; sad, tired, apologetic. Your heart is breaking for him. 

“Come here,” you lead him over to a nearby seating area, guiding him down into a chair. “Talk to me Harry, what’s going on.” 

He stays silent for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts. He lets out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. “If something had happened to you out there, it would have been my fault.” 

“Hey,” you furrow your brow. “First of all, nothing happened to me, so there’s no point in sitting here worrying about it, especially with everything you’ve got going on. Second of all, it one hundred percent would not have been your fault.” 

“It’s just…” Harry pauses. “I appreciate my fans, I do…”

“Harry,” you stop him. “Those weren’t your fans. Sure, there were a couple of them there, but they were easy to spot because they were being respectful of you and your space. The rest of them were just paps and autograph sellers. They were there to make money, they didn’t give a shit about you, they were on the clock.”  

Harry nods in understanding. His tormented gaze slowly begins to soften. “How are you so good at this?” You give him a questioning look. “I brought you into all of this, the crazy mobs, the gossip, everything, and you haven’t let it get to you at all.”

“Because I love you,” you shrugged. “If that’s the stuff I have to put up with to be with you, then I’ll put up with it with a smile on my face, because the reward of getting to be by your side is worth it.” 

Harry surged forward, crashing his lips against yours, unable to express in words just how much your words mean to him. He pulls away, cupping your cheek tenderly. “I can’t wait until next week. I won’t have to worry about shows, you and I are going to disappear from the world, and I’m going to be able to thank you properly for being the best thing that has ever happened to me.” 

“By sleeping for a week straight?” You arch a brow. “Because that’s what you’re going to need more than anything.” 

“As long as you’re sleeping next to me.”

“No place I’d rather be.” You smirk.

He pulls you in for another kiss, this one cut short when you hear them call Harry to board the plane. He stands first, offering his hand to you. You take it happily and he leads you out to the tarmac. 

You and Harry settle in side by side. You let out a small laugh as you wait for the plane to take off. 

“What’s so funny?” Harry asks you. 

“Nothing,” you chuckle again. “I was just thinking, I survived the great Break Stuff wall of death of 2017, but almost got taken out by a couple of Harry Styles groupies. I think being with you is making me go soft.” 

“Funny,” he huffs a laugh. “You have quite the opposite effect on me.” He looks at you with an arched brow and a smug smirk. You slap his chest playfully, your face going bright red at his comment. 

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry's house #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blur #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #love on tour #harry styles fic

[clericofgale]

I didn't expect to get fucking actual literal triggered by a godsdamn IGN article and yet here we are.

Gale's arc is about finding the will to live, that suicide isn't the solution, that there's always a better way. You are worthy by your own merits and not your talents or what you can provide. So many Galemancers I've talked to or read of talk about their struggle with depression & SI, self-worth problems and how Gale has really help inspire them to hold on. My mental health has much improved since my darkest days, so I really didn't expect to get so upset.

Chrystal Ding, Lead Writer: On a very human level, you have the guy who starts off annoying everyone, he's constantly asking you to give him your most treasured possessions to eat, otherwise he's in trouble, and at the end, he gives himself for the world.

NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. If you have a character with depressive characterization and brimming with suicidal ideation tendencies...Don't mix in the 💣 ending framed as a selfless act! That's a call to the void to people walking on the ledge. Gale has literal WillingtoDie flags! It's major yikes all around. At the brain stem Tav is either talking someone who isn't suicidal anymore back into killing himself, or allowing a suicidal person to do it. "Feels like the right ending to me"? Nooooo thank you interviewer.

I actually like the 💣 ending in a tragic "My choices ran out and I failed to save Gale" way. Never ever, will it ever feel the "right" ending.

Asking for help takes COURAGE, especially from someone who isn't used to it. Gale asking you for items is literally because he's in so much pain he can't function anymore. He has no other choice. If asking for help for your pain is selfish, then I don't ever want to not be selfish.

Gale was never annoying to me. If they tried to make Gale the annoying, selfish, asshole who redeems himself in the end. They failed.

I'm mostly mad at the interviewer, to be honest. But oh man the devs didn't help.

I'm hopping off my soapbox now. Thanks to anyone who read it. And yes I did my therapy shit and am calm now.

Oh and remember, there's always another way, and that way is never, ever, EVER the "right" way. Seek and you shall find me.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #tw sui ideation #cw: depression #bg3 spoilers #IGN #baldur's gate 3

[yorshie]

Congrats! The trashpile is getting bigger and bigger omg.

I would love to see Raph with 24 and 31, a lot of Romance for big red bc he deserves it

Thank you for requesting for Blurb Day, and yes, though now we've relocated to Donnie's garbage truck so we have plenty of room! We're gonna wage war against his electrical wiring. :3

You are absolutely right Big Red Does Deserve Romance! He deserves a chance to be soft! He deserves to be cared for! *is hauled off my soapbox*

"C'mon, Raphie, please?" Your voice whined over the speakerphone, and Raph smiled softly at the nickname he still wasn't quite used to. "Both my roommates are gone for the month, we'll have the whole apartment to ourselves!"

"I'm suppose to be inviting you to dinner, you know? That's what this call is for."

"Mikey never gets done cooking until late, we've got plenty of time! Come over now and I'll come back with you when it's time, please?" You cooed once more, drawing out the word like you didn't know you'd already convinced him.

His fingers drummed carefully over the handle of his water jug, casting a look out of his gym area to make sure everyone else was still occupied. Mikey had turned up the radio in the kitchen, Leo and Donnie were no where to be seen.

With a little self-deprecating huff, conscious he was whipped, he gave in to your request. "Alright, sweetheart, it's a deal. But I'm only doing this cuz you're cute."

He heard the muffled 'Yes!' you tried to hide before you chirped, "see you soon!"

He ended the call, shoulders rolling to relieve the soreness that had creeped in after ending his workout, and quickly left the Lair before anyone could ask where he was headed.

He was thankful you always left the living room window unlocked for him, though the fit was usually a bit tight and he always felt like he was either giving someone on the outside a good show or he was two seconds from falling flat on his face. The way your eyes lit up to see him was worth it, however, and the way you pressed yourself against him while giving a greeting never failed to cause his heart to give a heavy thump.

He might have balked a little bit though, at the sheer amount of pampering items laid out on the coffee table in front of the tv. He spied the usual bottles you kept for your 'girlie nights', as he liked to call them, and turned a wide eyed, worried look towards you.

You snorted, the sound at odds to the way you buried your face against him. "Cut the look Raph, it's just the two of us, remember? No need to be shy." You reached up on tiptoes, and he dipped automatically, let you press smooches against his nearest cheekbone before the sensation caught his attention and he returned your affection with a proper kiss.

He tried to deepen it, tried to entice you with a slide of his tongue over your lower lip, but you drew back with a tsk. "Nu uh, big boy, you're getting pampered tonight, no matter what. I'll let you kiss me after we've taken off the charcoal mask."

He tilted his head back out of reach with a pout, but you only tugged on the tails of his mask, leading him over to the couch and forcing him to sit.

He tried once more to distract you, curling an arm around your waist and scooping you up against his plastron. He took a moment to scrub his snout against your neck, breathing in your scent, thankful that, while you'd remembered to turn up your heat, you'd also worn something that allowed him to take advantage of the natural warmth you put off.

He was almost convinced he had succeeded, and the two of you could maybe just cuddle, kiss, and watch a movie, when the tick of a bottle opening sounded near the left side of his head, and he sighed roughly.

"Fine, fine, get it over with, but," he caught your wrist, his grip soft despite the way it swallowed your whole hand, and asked, "we can cuddle afterwards?"

You smiled, and he was caught in the happiness blooming across your face. You leaned forward, pressed your mouth to his once more in a lingering kiss, before you slid his mask off his face. "Course we can, Red. I'll keep you warm, no worries." You pecked him once more. "And besides, you'll feel good, you know you will."

Inside, Raph silently hoped his brothers would be too distracted to notice how he smelled, but a larger part of him simply relaxed, taking comfort from the way your hands glided softly over his face, the care you took when touching him.

And, unfortunately, the charcoal mask did feel pretty good.

#tmnt bayverse #bayverse raphael #tmnt raphael #bayverse raphael x reader #blurb day

[envy-of-the-apple]

Hello! I just reread “sun eats the moon” for the 12th time now and I cannot get enough of it. The way you write is just incredible. The way you wrote Gojo and his obsession with the reader was just so horrifyingly fascinating to read. Every time I go back to read their interacts I keep noticing different layers between them and it’s just amazing!!

Though, I think my favourite parts was the scenes between hiromi and the reader. It’s clear that he could tell something was going on, but he didn’t exactly know what (And the foreshadowing of him urging the reader to leave before it’s too late amazing amazing amazing).

And I loved your “lame solar system analogy” (your words not mine 😝). Maybe I’m overthinking it but there’s this one part in the last scene where the reader describes Gojos smile as bloody, and then when she looks up at the moon, she realises that it’s a blood moon. Just the foreshadowing of that??? Amazing, I love love love rereading your work and just finding little things like that!!!!!

I’m so sorry for the long message, but one last thing I promise. I just love how much of a mystery Geto is. Till the end of the fic, I could not understand whether he supported his best friend or the readers (maybe a bit of both?). Did he care about the reader, or was he more concerned about gojo? He did stop Gojo’s plan to baby trap her but now that I’m reread their interactions I’m wondering if it was more for Gojos sake than hers….

Again so so sorry for the long message. I hope you have a great rest of your day!!! Can’t wait to see what you come up with next!!!!!

omg omg omg omg the smile on my face as I read this??? and on my BIRTHDAY as well???? ty ty ty ty best birthday present ever!!!!!!!!!

I've never written Higuruma before, but Im so glad I added him in that fic because clearly so many people enjoyed his parts. I'd actually written a scene where Higuruma is finally breaking away from the private sector and asks if the mc wants to be his paralegal even though he won't be working at the firm anymore. The reader would agree but then right after that gojo would come in and ruin EVERYTHING (because he is Gojo Satoru). But I didn't know how to fit that in, so I had to leave it out. But I did enjoy writing their camaraderie with each other. You can interpret what he knows as whatever you want, but I tried to imply that Higuruma thinks there is something weird going on between the reader and gojo but he can't put his finger on it. At first, he assumes you're uncomfortable with him solely because of how much Gojo flaunts his wealth, but the more he observes you, the more he realizes you're....afraid of Gojo, you barely want to be in the same room as him. I think he'd try to put some distance between you and him, but obviously, in the end, it didn't work out.

I just love repetition and symbolism so so much so im so sorry in advance if I annoyed yall with the 'sun' and the 'moon'. And yes!!! ahhh!!! im so happy you caught that foreshadowing with the blood moon cuz that's exactly what i was going for!!!!!

Honestly, the moon itself is such a great metaphor for womanhood but im gonna get off my soapbox before people start throwing things at me. I am definitely not allowed to speak about feminism considering what I write is like 96% pure misogyny.

Oh, Geto Suguru. Hes not on the reader's side, nor is he on Gojo's side. He's on Geto Suguru's side;)

one thing i will note tho....he noticed the reader before gojo satoru did. that's all i can say tee hee.

AHHHHHHH BUT THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THIS SWEET MESSAGE AND thank you for giving me an excuse to ramble for 15 minutes.

#ppl being so nice~! #yandere jjk #yandere #dark gojo satoru #gojo satoru #“The Sun Eats the Moon” Asks #SEM

[king-krisu]

I can't get this fucking thought out of my brain so here it goes (if someone made this point already I apologise I was offline lol):

Häärijä has until now been a sort of shadow of Jere's past, wearing his old performance outfit of a yellow suit and all. Since the bolero and neon green is getting buried in the mv, I think it's not so crazy to assume Häärijä will incorporate some neon green to his outfit, or maybe even wear the bolero himself in the future. Or atleast acknowledge it somehow in the mv. I mean all summer he's been compared to pikachu, who's signature is yellow lightning, which is what makes Jere's bolero disappear in the teaser as well. I would absolutely kill for Häärijä to also be upgraded to sort of always follow Jere one step behind, wearing his own versions of Jere's old clothes.

Thank you getting off my soapbox now

#käärijä #jere pöyhönen #cha cha cha #häärijä #tommy cash #it's crazy it's party