#id welcome discussion

[djs-sideblog-for-pog-trains]

Last thought before i try sleep. Do you think Duck lets anyone call him Monty or is he on a strictly Duck basis w/ everyone

#ttte #ttte duck #dj rambles #id welcome discussion #in my heart of hearts. he might let donald do it. and maybe only donald. #tho i can see douglas picked it up and duck forgot to tell him not to #tbh i think donald and douglas get nickname rights no other engines get. i also believe they get away with calling james Jim. #thats besides the point #but yeah. idk.

[xxlovelynovaxx]

Uh-huh. You realize, coming from a 26 year old, that this is just ageism, right? "I'll only take you seriously because of your age"... and you think you're in the right?

Yeah, "14 years olds act more 14 about it" because typically a group with absolutely zero societal power that is literally treated as the subhuman property of their parents and irrational mindless inconveniences that are only here to annoy "real people" will get upset when you continue to treat them as such while reminding them of the absolute privilege and societal power you hold over them.

I was 14 too. I remember the frustration at no one taking me seriously. I remember the fury that when I turned 18, 20, 25, suddenly everyone believed me about the things I'd been saying for 4, 6, 10+ years. I remember the disillusionment that happened when I realized the only thing that had changed was not some arbitrary debunked number at which the brain "develops fully", not some threshold of "maturity", but simply that I was no longer the age at which the state had a chokehold around my personhood, or in some cases the age which people think my human rights should have been delayed to.

Because it's not like adults EVER have bad opinions about something you say online, right? It's not like they don't FREQUENTLY respond to you trying to talk to them about it with stubborn and willful ignorance. It's not like the OP of this or a similar post didn't once respond to my detailed and logical essay about ageism with "lol I'm not reading all that". It's not like unreasonableness and angry nastiness at a post is utterly unlinked to the age of the person perpetrating it, and people of all ages do this in equal numbers.

Oh wait, it's exactly like that, it's just that society supports and even rewards the exact same misbehaviors in privileged people that they condemn in marginalized people.

It's just that when an adult does this, it's either that they're arbitrarily right based on their age/other privileged identity and often the marginalized status of the person arguing against them (see: OP, every argument on antisemitism where goyim are seen as the rational and reasonable and therefore right ones), the person arguing is being "immature" and "might be lying about being an adult' or "is acting like a child" (transmascs being silenced about their oppression using infantilization, the concern trolling of people who are happily 'crazy', the infantilization of disabled people and especially those who are intellectually, cognitively, or developmentally disabled), or both.

They're right. Their age has nothing to do with what they're saying. However, it has everything to do with how you're mistreating them. If they had no age in their bio, you might have taken them seriously, at least enough to believe they might listen to your viewpoint and to treat them like an equal human being.

If they had had an age above (usually 20-25), your last grasp at defense would have been to discredit them by comparing them to a 14 year old or accusing them of lying about their age, precisely because even adjacency to that identity allows you to shut down any argument they make.

Unfortunately, when you're in your 20s and 30s, everything is influenced by how fucking 20-40 you are. You forget exactly how cruel and oppressive society is to children. You forget how people magically started treating you like a person instead of a thing that existed only to "irrationally" be angry at the world around you. You forget how you were right to be angry at how they treated you.

You forget that you were legally allowed to have someone else dictate what and when you ate, how you dressed, whether you received necessary medical care, whether unnecessary medical procedures such as intersex "correctional" surgeries and treatment were forced on you at any age, when and for how long you were allowed to leave the house, and if they hit you in a well-known erogenous zone it would have been considered "discipline" as long as they called it "spanking" and not "physical and sexual abuse. You forget this and any number of other things considered abusive if a partner or roommate were to do it to even someone who had just turned 18 two seconds ago.

You forget that while it was technically illegal for your parents to starve you, to beat you, to emotionally abuse you by gaslighting or daily verbal abuse or manipulation, to torture you, to sexually abuse you, to hurt you to the point of you developing PTSD and or dissociative disorders, that there is very little recourse for actually enforcing it. You forget that you just have to hope that a different adult believes you, and in order for them to do that you usually have to fit a stereotype of a good victim and that your parents usually already have to be not in good standing with your community.

You forget how many cases of actual textbook abuse CPS does nothing about for "lack of proof" despite a supposed societal narrative of "believe victims".* You forget that they prioritize reunification even in cases of actual physical abuse, often with the abuser themself. You forget that you were a member of the only class that can have the police called on them like dogcatchers to drag them back kicking and screaming to their abusers, with no recourse or means of escape provided, because the state depends on and serves the institution of the "nuclear family". You forget that historically police served to return escaped property to their owners, and still do so today.

(*Believe victims if they have any measure of societal power that causes consequences for not believing them. Believe victims as long as you will be judged by most people for not believing them. Believe victims only if you can be held accountable for not doing so.)

As a disabled person and therefore a vulnerable adult, I had the unique position of being treated as a child until I escaped at age 23. It was all the same arguments - that it was "for my own good", that I was "incapable of making those decisions for myself" (or apparently, finding someone I did trust to make them for me, because I was "unreliable enough" I couldn't even do that), and so on.

This only made me realize that, despite the fact that none of that was true, it wouldn't be okay even if it was. It's not okay for disabled adults who DO need significantly more help caring for themselves than I do and who are profoundly cognitively or intellectually disabled to have their autonomy infringed on and their consent violated.

So why, then, is it okay to do to a child, regardless of their actual ability to take care of themselves or "make rational decisions"? Why is it okay to treat a child this way? Why is it okay to regard someone as fundamentally subhuman until an arbitrary cutoff?

Why is it okay to assume complete and total irrationality and unreasonableness on the part of an entire class of people just because as a subjugated and oppressed class they are still on rare occasion irrational or unreasonable? Isn't that bog-standard bigotry?

Why is it okay to justify their oppression by them being sometimes unable to fully stand on their own two feet, without help or community, under the weight of the oppressive system itself that serves to reinforce that? Why claim the purposeful elimination of tools and obscuration of helpful skills and knowledge under the guise of "protecting them" shows that they are incapable of surviving without those violences in a system that you claim is not, in fact, openly hostile to them?

And yes, this does all matter in the context of petty online discourse, because it is these systems that serve to reinforce and be reinforced by this casual ageism.

It is reaffirming the ideas which uphold these systems - that children are incapable of being rational people with reasonable emotional responses to mistreatment, who have to be told at every point what is in fact fair and how they must react to not face active bigotry for their immutable identity. It is conditioning children to beg for scraps of respect so that they learn assimilation early and go on to perpetuate childism when they themselves become adults.

It's petty and cruel, and it's destroying my faith in humanity to see marginalized people I otherwise respect sharing this. Y'all of all people should know better. Y'all of all people should be able to see how it maps to multiple of the various types of oppression and even intersectional oppression and then goes further.

Y'all of all people should be able to remember how being a child was your primary identity and primary form of marginalization, because you could legally be allowed to be abused for your other marginalized identities and most people in fact supported your family doing so, or at least felt that even if it was wrong it was still "their right" to do so.

Maybe you were privileged enough to have a supportive family, but I know for a FACT most of you weren't.

Kids are considered uniquely incapable of having any identity that is not immediately apparent - of knowing they are chronically ill or queer or plural or neurodivergent. They are considered incapable of having valuable and complex thoughts about politics or religion. They are not listened to or considered experts on the specific intersectional discrimination they face for immediately apparent identities, such as being children of color or visibly disabled. Adults within those groups are considered the experts on forms of discrimination they'll even admit they no longer experience, but that children continue to.

This is not just queerphobia or ableism or racism or any other number of forms of bigotry. This is specifically childism intersecting those forms of bigotry. It is not just not okay because of their queer or disabled or racial or other identity. It is not okay because children are fucking people, and yeah, deserve to be treated as equals and not be condescended to even in the actual rare cases where their reasoning is not completely rationally sound - just as is the case for disabled people, I might add.

If you can see how one is ableism but not how the other is bigoted childism, if you can't see the parallels between two cases where

-most individuals in a class are fully rational and intellectually capable people purposely being mislabeled as not so in order to justify their subjugation

-which is fundamentally reliant on the societal acceptance of mistreatment of those who may not be fully rational or intellectually capable (which is deeply ableist/childist, oppressive, and wrong),

-and where those who actually aren't fully rational or are intellectually incapable face no reprieve both in being weaponized against members of their own class with relative privilege AND in fighting their own mistreatment, which unlike in the case of those who might be able to convince others of their capability is considered always justified on the basis of their incapability, while not actually being okay on ANY basis,

then I can't help you.

To be clear, the reason it is ableist and/or childist to label someone as intellectually incapable when they are not is not at all because actually being so would be in any way bad. It's because it relies on the deep, insidious ableism/childism against those who are considered intellectually capable to function. It is essentially a separate facet of that same ableism/childism, and one specifically functions because of the other facet of ableism/childism that says that all members of said class are incapable and therefore need to be mistreated in the same way as those who actually are.

"No one deserves to be treated this way," is fundamentally how this oppression should be addressed, period. Understanding how it functions differently for different people, and how easily the most vulnerable members of an oppressed class could have their liberation tossed aside in order to pursue assimilation for the less vulnerable is still important, though. Understanding that your own oppression relies on the total subjugation of part of your community on the basis of an ontological trait that they have and you do not is actually paramount in recognizing both your own relative privilege and how to effectively fight the oppression you all face.

Or to put it simply, it's important to recognize that if you're being oppressed because someone is claiming you're something you're not, that that oppression isn't okay toward the people who are that thing.

Anyway, adults who talk about childism, adultism (I apologize that I struggle to remember the difference between the two, much like I struggle with the difference between ableism and disableism), and youth liberation also hold privilege. As I mentioned above, the most that someone can use to discredit me here is to say that I'm immature or they think I'm secretly a child.

Even the people who really don't want to examine their own privilege and complicity in their hierarchical relationship with children are more likely to listen to me, and if they don't they'll make fools of themselves with such lines as "I refuse to read anything longer than a twitter post to educate myself on complex systems of oppression".

I'll keep trying to stand up for children anyway. Not just because I actually remember what it's like to be 14, but because I have a responsibility to do so as an adult. I'll uplift the voices of the children who quite honestly are way better at explaining this and have a far better understanding of both the direct experience and the sociological theory behind it than I ever will be.

Also note: I didn't anywhere in this post point out how people who are 17 and some months are functionally indistinguishable from those who have just turned 18, or how variations in "development" might cause some who are 15 or 16 to be very similar to others who are 18, or so on.

Quite frankly, I don't think that matters. I do think 14 year olds deserve to be treated with respect just as much as 17.99 year olds, and I also think often 17.99 year olds face much of the exact same mistreatment and oppression (especially systemically) as 14 year olds. The exceptions where legal emancipation can help those over 16 are both rare enough and require trading being controlled for being unsupported. Therefore I think that while a more nuanced conversation about this could take place within the communities actually affected by this, I think it's neither appropriate nor helpful here.

I'd also like to remind people that predators are often successful at grooming children because they pretend to treat them with respect and take them seriously. The answer to this should not be "oh, anyone who respects children is a groomer", but rather, "hey, maybe if everyone treated children with respect and took them seriously, actual predators would have one less avenue through which to target and harm children".

As a CSA victim myself, I will NEVER stop doing anything and everything I can to prevent more children from becoming victims. I only care about what's effective, not what feels good in pseudo-proxy revenge fantasies against imagined perpetrators while very real ones continue to go unnoticed and unchallenged by society.

I take children seriously because it's the right thing to do, but also specifically to fight CSA. I also remind anyone who needs it that they do NOT know they can trust me or anyone else on that sole basis. While I want to be a safe adult, doing so in a society where children have no recourse against mistreatment fundamentally requires them protecting themselves by not trusting me just because I recognize the power I have over them and the ways in which they are abused.

(This is another example of how the fearmongering mindset over generational friendships, particularly between minors and adults, is just as harmful as the pushback against comprehensive sex education and coming from the same puritan and christofascist roots. Knowing that something is sexual abuse just allows victims to voice what they're experiencing. Having safe adults who respect them allows children to recognize the manipulative behaviors and other red flags of unsafe adults.)

Anyway, all the original post is saying is "I don't like when members of an oppressed class stubbornly refuse to compromise on being treated as equal people with valuable thoughts and rational responses to mistreatment, and in fact insist on being listened to when I say things that are cruel, unfair, and untrue."

(When did use of "unfair" become a synonym for "whiny snowflakes children who just can't see that life is inherently unfair" in leftist spaces that purportedly fight against systemic injustice, anyway? When did it become something "immature" in the fight against identity-based violence that is inherently not fair?)

So I guess, act more 14 about it. I'll continue acting more disabled and queer about ableism and queermisia, so I fail to see what's bad about that. But imagine thinking that interacting with someone on the basis of their age is useless and thinking you're in the right for it. Truly showing their entire ass.

#childism #adultism #youth liberation #cw csa mention #csa mention #it's sometimes shocking to me that people are so much more ignorant about child liberation than even like. mad liberation and stuff #but it makes sense bc children are fundamentally THE most oppressed class on the planet #also yes I'm using USamerican ages here bc that is what I have perspective on #I welcome people from countries where personhood is granted at different ages to weigh in #also I use children here but I'm not sure if I should say 'minors' or something else instead esp when primarily discussing teens so like #lmk if I need to change that #undescribed #needs ID

[moonscape]

okay i'm going to be nicer to totk for real now *deletes most of my drafts*

#bwark #god i'm fucking trying to have some kind of epiphany here where i can have it all click and be like ''even if i have my problems i can still #get enjoyment out of it'' but this game makes it so damn difficult #''i can discuss the story'' wait nope can't. story sucks ass and butt #''what about the exploration? that was the best part of botw'' uh no can't do that when the surface is practically the same and there's no #substance to the sky or the depths #''gameplay?'' i don't like ultrahand. which sucks when that's 90% of the gameplay #i respect the work that must've gone into it and the creativity it's drawn from fans but making one gameplay aspect literally ALL YOU DO #runs the risk of alienating people who can't get behind #and sure other zelda games have their gimmicks but it's different #like take tp for example. i get that the wolf mechanic isn't for everyone. but aside from the early game twilight sections and a few sparse #puzzles in the later game you're never really forced to play as wolf so it doesn't overstay its welcome #god i just remembered that totk turned wolf link into meat chunks. another thing they took from us 😔 #actually on that genuinely why couldn't they just bring him back? #like you're reusing a ton of shit from botw anyway?? #which brings me back to my main point is that anything that isn't new is just. botw again #shrines are back but they're uglier. dungeons are the divine beasts but in a new coat of paint #why did they add more shrines to the game anyway? like you'd think they'd at least lower the number because fans didn't want them to return #the SINGULAR leg up i can think of id the bosses. yeah i love botw and i'll hold my hands up and say that a lot of the common complaints for #it don't bother me personally but yeah the blights absolutely sucked #divebombing colgera with the dragon roost theme playing was the closest thing that this game came to giving me an experience #okay i'll shut up now I'M GOING TO BE NICE EVEN IF IT KILLS ME

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

something about being a writer studying something that's Not writing is so satisfying. like yes i did just spit out a coherent eloquent paper in 45 min. what about it.

#no really though #funny story my fav prof actually started putting page limits on assignments bc of me #he literally said that to my face #bc id write like 5 pages when everyone else wrote 2 and he literally just could not be bothered to read it #which.. real #but still #ive had him for 2 years now and not once in the first two semesters did he put limits but here we are #discussion posts. papers. all of them #youre welcome charles <3

[reineydraws]

Why didn't you draw Babs with the Batfamily . You stupid bitch . Don't treat Babs that way. She's the queen and far more popular than any of the batfamily members!

wow! your question is valid but your tone is rude and i dont appreciate it. dont tell me how to treat fictional characters when you dont even treat your fan creators nicely.

babs isnt in the photo because she's setting up as oracle; in the caption i mention she sent up a drone to take the photo. babs is great and i love her but there are 11 people in the original photo and i based this in the wfa 'verse where there are also 11 gotham capes (that ive seen so far) on the streets that have babs at the helm, in the clocktower, being oracle. as a result of this train of thought, i unfortunately ended up not picturing her. it isnt bc of any specific babs hate on my part.

#anon hate #tw anon hate #cw anon hate #rei replies #in hindsight maybe the decision was subconsciously ableist but my train of thought was really 'she's in the clocktower' #sorry if it came off that way #i also had a version that tim wasnt in 'cuz i was gonna rationalize him having taken the photo before i realized babs would be oracle-ing #but ye i was just thinking 'all the masks and capes ive seen so far from wfa' #and there was conveniently the same number as there are construction workers in the photo this is based on #again sorry if her exclusion ended up looking ableist. i welcome feedback from anyone who isnt this anon to lmk &/or start a discussion. #the original sketch also had bruce going 'oracle?' so mb i shouldve kept it? idk. #upon further thinking i feel like excluding babs being ableist is like excluding alfie being ageist #theyre both important members of the batfamily that are behind the scenes so #i suppose id add them both. and i have an idea for how i can but now i. i dont want to. #bc now itll feel like im listening to someone who called me a stupid bitch 🤦🏻‍♀️ damn #again tho still open for discussion

[talubld-archive]

anyway uhhhhh even though I've hardly got the energy to write I am always 100% down to ship thank you & goodnight

#honestly like. we could have a couple of ooc interactions #and if u went to me like 'ship? 👉👈' id absolutely discuss it #i like building things up in threads but honestly im too tired to write half the time #so creating backgrounds in ims and chatting away abt possibilities is more than welcomed #not to mention ill send asks anyway uwu #ooc. » boss battle music intensifies.

[snekdood]

sometimes it feels like ppl on here think ppl who are stern and assertive are shitty and its like... im sorry but ive been walked on all my life, if im not stern and assertive ppl treat me like shit. 

#being bubbly and smiley and welcoming has only welcomed people who want to use and abuse me into my life #id love to be if i didn't feel like people were going to manipulate my kindness #and its not lost on me that im treated like an asshole for this probably bc some ppl just see me as a grumpy hysterical half-woman #even trans ppl who would tell me they dont but show me they do still feel that way about me lmao #ppl rly aren't prepared to discuss how trans men are effected by misogyny in and outside of our communities #we're seen as essentially ugly unsavory women #the woman 'its okay to hate bc they're problematic in x way even iof they aren't we need to find a way all trans mascs r problematic' #'so we have an excuse to keep ostracizing them' #bc once you dismiss someone as a woman you hate whos problematic its a free for all. for some reason yall will let your masks down #entirely on allegedly problematic people who are percieved as women. #like yall are trying to get it all out as quick as you can on trans men on how misogynistic you can be so then you can go 'well ur a man so #u dont experience misogyny lololol gotem anyways lets keep treating them like how society treats women they hate' #and then once it becomes mainstream that its not cool to hate all dudes including transmascs whom you've decided are somehow worse than cis #men- yall will slide into the shadows pretending you didn't do shit or contribute to shit going on here #but if brought up- you'll panic and scramble to find reasons to justify ur behavior. recycling problematic things those transmascs #supposedly did that are either dated and have been addressed and the person has changed or changed their mind since then or #shit thats been disproven and was never real to begin with #and yall dont want to sit in the silence acknowledging what u did at all so you'll keep deflecting and ignoring it forever #bc facing the reality that you've hurt someone for some reason is really hard for ppl on here

[bitternanami]

something i think is really interesting about dungeon meshi is the cast's respective views on food as the story progresses. the way many adventurers get through the dungeon is to eat when they Must, but mostly rely on healing magic to keep going when they're tired or beaten down. death is something you can buy your way out of, here.

having these lower stakes when it comes to running yourself too hard has made a lot of people in this setting kind of devalue food and what it does for you.

im not all the way through the manga yet, but so far i really like how it goes about debunking that mindset.

long post under the cut, cw explicit discussion of disordered eating. textual depiction of unhealthy methods of dealing with it. please be cautious!

it seems like to most folks, food is either a decadent luxury, like when the governor offers mr tance a feast as a show of power and wealth, (although he is the only one who actually eats in that scene as he talks about his ambitions);

[id: the governor and mr. tance talk politics and hierarchies, while the governor eats from a bowl. mr. tance's meal is not visible behind a speech bubble.

"so you believe the sorceror is an elf?" he asks.

"i can't say with absolute certainty," mr. tance replies, "but the spells are not ones dwarves and humans typically use." /end id]

like the painted-royal feasts laios tries to partake in that never actually nourish him...

[id: laios, fresh out of the living painting feast, surprisedly holding his grumbling stomach /end id]

or, to the working class, it's pretty much exclusively fuel. i'm thinking about the scene where kabru's party, ostensibly intended to be our view into how adventuring Typically goes for most people, is shown preparing to go to the dungeon by like. walking up to someone and ordering 'a weeks' worth of rations.' purely functional.

[id: kabru enters a store, and the merchant says "welcome!"

kabru says "i need a week's worth of rations for six, and two days' worth of water."

"sure thing." the merchant then reaches behind him and grabs a large cube-shaped package, wrapped in nondescript cloth and tied in place. it thumps onto the counter in front of them both. /end id]

when kabru hands mickbell his food for the trip, he complains about how heavy it is on his back. it's a necessary liability.

we also see chilchuck, in an early chapter where there isn't much food to go around, grumbling about how he used to be better at not noticing when he was hungry. he's frustrated that he's more attuned to his bodily needs, now that he's starting to fill them with regularity.

[id: chilchuck, the only one awake, sits in his bedroll and glares at the timekeeping-candle burning down in front of him while he listens to his stomach growl. moving to find his canteen and fill himself with water instead, he thinks to himself, "my stomach has gotten weaker. i used to be able to go two days without food." /end id]

(like im not even gonna lie this is a big mood. the healing process is really really annoying)

even laios, early on, working out the logistics of going back for falin, considers his expenses and ultimately the thing he decides to save money on is their food supply. like, even the guy most invested in eating as an experience kind of just assumes he will Figure It Out. its what hes eating, not how hes eating it that matters to him at that point.

[id: marcille looks down at the ingredients they've gathered, the walking mushroom and the scorpion in an unappetizing heap on the ground, and asks laios "so how exactly do we eat them?"

he responds "let's just cook them, like normal." /end id]

but its here that senshi introduces the idea of food as art and as healing. its exciting and its fascinating for laios, getting to taste the creatures hes been reading about and fighting, but i dont think it would ever really help him feel full if not for this.

[id: three panels of laios tasting the scorpion hotpot, looking stunned, and then excitedly telling senshi "delicious!"

senshi matches his energy, asking "isn't it? isn't it?" /end id]

pictured: guy who had resigned himself to kind of just doing his best rediscovers the joy in something tasting really fucking good

what they did last time isnt going to work. falin is gone, and constantly anesthetizing their pain and healing through their weakness is no longer a realistic option for the party. in order to make it through they must all relearn how to eat well, one by one and as a group over and over again, because its either that or nothing.

one of my favorite depictions of this idea thus far is when marcille is seriously low on health and mana, and both of these problems are mitigated by taking care of herself, and trying to get iron and protein

[id: marcille, looking sickly, wakes to laios saying, "marcille, marcille, can you sit up? we've got something nice for you."

she watches senshi grill pieces of kelpie liver on a low fire, while laios ties a bib around her neck. /end id]

and drinking a bunch of dead water spirits. she gets the idea, she's supposed to get in nutrients and it'll help her feel better, but in aiming for the quick, inefficient fix, namely chugging that shit down like she heard it was good to Stay Hydrated and decided that would be the thing that fixes her,

[id: marcille throws back a cup of boiled undine-water, her face red. laios asks, "do you really need to drink it that fast?"

she gasps out "...the magical energy stored in nature spirits is actually quite hard to absorb. even if you drink a lot, the majority of it is excreted without being absorbed," and takes another drink. "that's why i need to drink as much as i can."

laios says weakly "you'll get water poisoning," but marcille only stops when senshi puts a hand on her shoulder and says,

"it's easier to absorb nutrients if ye digest them with food. that's a fundamental rule of nutrition."

marcille says, "senshi..." contemplative

and he holds out a bowl of tentuclus and a thumbs up. "let's get cooking!" /end id]

she doesn't immediately realize the answer is that she needs more than that. she's been working hard. she needs care, and she needs nourishment.

once she gets that, though, she makes her boiled water into a stew, and she works to make that stew as good as she can, and everyone can have some.

because in dungeon meshi, to feed yourself or allow yourself to be fed is treated as performing a kindness for yourself. food is what propels you, but there is also an art and a joy inherent to the process of making it; in the way you feel when you've had enough to eat.

[id: senshi watches as chilchuck and marcille eat and excitedly hash out plans.

"i've got a good feeling about this! maybe it'll work out!" chilchuck says

marcille responds, "well it's easier to feel optimistic on a full stomach!"

senshi smiles, proud. /end id]

^^^ i want to put this image on my wall

when you're working through disordered eating habits, you really do have to keep learning this shit. (in my experience, learning about cooking is one of the best ways to do so.)

i'll have to see if my thesis holds up as i continue, but i think one of the reasons the portrayal here resonates with me so hard is that ryoko kui puts most of her characters at eye level with me on this. they're all working at it, too. the text and i are both commiserating, and encouraging each other, 'have some more, you'll feel better.'

#its late -_- idk if this fullly gets across what i mean but ive been thinking about this for weeks #dungeon meshi #recovery #cooking tag #disordered eating cw #im on chp 31 atm but im like. squinting and steepling my fingers looking for this theme as i go now

[marinebiologyshitposts]

ladies, gentlemen, and those of us smart enough to know otherwise.

WELCOME TO THE "SHE SELLS SEA SHIT BY THE SHIPLOAD" STUFF SALE!!!!!

im currently raising some money to buy a gaming PC off my friend, and i thought id turn to you! consider this me opening commissions! if you donate money, you'll get one of the above rewards! include the name of your blog in the payment, and message me on tumblr after donating so we can discuss your commissions!!

for poem examples, check @ssmarian !!!

my current goal is 400 dollars [0/400]!!!

if i reach my goal, im going to start trying to figure out a special secret... ill update you on the secret as i update the goal.

my name on both apps is "chambered nautilus", just so you know you're paying the right person.

VENMO: @rem427

CASHAPP: $chamberednautilus

wanna blacklist this post? blacklist the tag "ssssbtsl"!!! thank you so much, and have a great day!!!!!

#original coast #ssssbtsl

[ceruleancattail]

Alright victims look. Dig out your ears and hear me out on this one.

V-tuber MC.

Look, the bills have to be paid in some way, right? A time-flexible job would be ideal, no? And if there an added layer of anonymity added to the job, won’t it be a perfect side-hustle?

Imagine streaming every week after classes, playing games or perhaps showcasing a certain talent of yours? Singing, drawing, dancing … whatever you’ve got. The list just goes on. Maybe you just sit down with your viewers, and have a light-hearted chat.

Talking about your friends and experiences seems to be well-welcomed, on your streams. Well, some of your experiences in Night Raven College are just… ridiculous. Having to run after a chaotic bunch of friends is exhausting, so at least those wacky experiences turn into good stories for the internet.

Everything is kept anonymous, of course. People get nicknames to cover their identities, and people think all of these tales come from you playing as the character they portray.

Now imagine Idia just stumbling across your streaming account. Perhaps he was bored, one day after class… and lo and behold, you were streaming right after class as well. Streaming some… story based game.

At first he joined just to have some background noise while he gamed. Idia told himself he’ll just lurk, maybe judge your gameplay for a bit. Yet he found himself clinging on to your every word, focusing more on your laughter then the controls of the console in his hand.

He ended up losing every match he played that day, but your follower count steadily went up by one.

Idia soon found himself tuning in more and more, looking forward to the days you were free to stream. They miraculously mirrored his quite closely, what a wonderful coincidence! He was still very much a lurker, but occasionally his trembling fingers will type out a word of encouragement or two, in the chat.

He likes the way you say his username, the way you read out every letter he typed. You remember him, oddly enough. Aways perking up whenever his username flashes across the screen, grinning away like an idiot.

Idia can’t say he doesn’t like it, though.

He keeps a keychain of you on his bag. A subtle design, never your model outright. Maybe it’s a small plushie of your fan mascot, or the logo of your avatar. Either way, he takes it with him everywhere, thumb stroking it whenever Idia’s thoughts wander.

Wonder what happens when one day, he stumbles across you in the hallway. Bags stuck together because your keychains tangled, and he saw you had the exact same one? The moment you open your mouth, apologising profusely… Idia knows. You’re the streamer he’s been faithfully watching ever since that day.

Oh no, he’ll never dox you outright. Idia knows all too well how badly parasocial relationships tend to go, and he would never want to scare you off. Somehow, one way or another, you end up sharing a class with Idia.

Now, he was fully planning to hide in the corner throughout the lesson… but you sat in front of him. Slipping your phone out of your pocket, before booting up… a game. He’ll never normally make the first move, but the moment he saw his favourite game pop up on your screen, a hesitant sentence slipped right off his tongue.

“I play that game too.”

Beaming at him, you spin around. Clutching your phone in your hands, excited to find another game enjoyer in the same class. You asked some friendly questions about what character he played, how far along the quests was he, and other gameplay related questions.

Idia had fun, discussing the game with you. Talking all the way until the teacher walked in and gave both of you a nasty glare. You slid right back around, but not before scribbling something quick onto Idia’s palm.

You wink at him, before folding up his fingers into a fist. Once your back was turned, Idia couldn’t help unclenching it to take a peek.

Your friend ID code, scribbled out in your favourite colour on his hand. Ending with a cute little heart. Great Seven, you were adorable.

Guess he’ll have to actually be serious about this game, for once.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #Idia #Idia shroud #Idia shroud x reader #Idia x reader #lucky potion 🔷 #parasocial relationship? no #slowly getting to know the person behind the screen and liking them for who they are and not the character they portray? #yes! #Idia is a man of culture I believe very much in him

[masonxomount]

So I've just seen someone who was talking about Kalvin Phillips' move to man city, and they said "the prem is going to be so good next season" but I'm gonna disagree with that yknow...

I've been supporting wolves since I came out of the womb because its where I'm from and who my family support, so even though we've been in and out of the prem I still followed what was happening in it right... and I think it's got boring. Apart from the year Leicester won of course, you know exactly which teams are gonna end up in the top 5. It's boring. And this is all because the top teams have the most money and get the best players and you just know what's gonna happen.

I think this is kind of why I like international football so much cause you never know what gonna happen. England got to the final of the euros, and then can't win a game in the first few games of the Nations league. Italy win the euros but fail to qualify for the world cup. Its so unexpected.

But because of the shear volume of money at the top of the premier league its just boring now.

It's also the reason my mum stopped watching and supporting big football because she didn't like how much money was in it. She now solely supports our little home non-league team.

#anna chats shit #i welcome differing opinions btw like id love to discuss this #ask box is always open for football based discussions x

[byersbootyshorts]

The accidental dumbification of Spencer Reid

“Ok, where are we going this time?” you ask as the team takes their seats around the round table.

“Rutland, Vermont,” Garcia says, grabbing the remote to switch on the screen which displays various bloody crime scene photos.

“Severed limbs have been discovered scattered all over Green Mountain National Forest,” Hotch reveals.

“Any identification?” Morgan asks while you flick through the case file, absentmindedly placing a hand on Spencer’s leg. He shifts slightly, clearing his throat.

‘None yet,” Hotch continues. “They’re pretty hard to ID when all we have is limb. However, preliminary reports suggest that the various body parts found belong to at least six different people.”

“And there’s probably more we even haven’t found yet,” Emily chimes in.

You move your hand further up Spencer’s thigh and tighten your grip at the thought of how many people could be cut up into tiny pieces and spread all over that huge forest. You’re so distracted by it you don’t even notice what you’re doing to Spencer; a bulge growing in his pants from your touch despite him willing it not to.

He swallows harshly to suppress the feeling but you mistake it for fear and instinctively rub your hand on his inner thigh. This movement only drives him more insane.

“So we have to search the entire woods? It’s a pretty big forest, right Reid?” Rossi asks, but Spencer doesn’t reply, his mind elsewhere. The team stares at him expectantly.

“Hello, earth to Dr Reid.” Morgan waves his hand in front of Spencer’s face.

“Uh, sorry, what?” Spencer snaps out of his daze.

“How big is Green Mountain Forest,” Rossi repeats.

Spencer looks down, trying to clear his head of the problem he was having down there. But he couldn’t gather his thoughts. All he could think of was the hand on his thigh.

“I- uh, I’m- I’m not sure.” he finally stutters.

The rest of the team, including you, stare at him wide eyed.

“Well, would you look at that. We finally stumped the little boy genius,” Morgan laughs. Spencer’s face turns a bright crimson.

The rest of the team giggle but you’re just confused, certain Spencer once recited to you the square mileage of every national forest in the country.

“Oh, give the kid a break,” Rossi says sympathetically. “Like we could do any better.”

The rest of the team go back to discussing the case but you give Spencer’s thigh another quick squeeze to get his attention. He turns to you and you raise an eyebrow to express your question. He understands what you’re asking and shifts his eyes down. You follow them down to where you hand sits on his thigh. A little further up his leg than you imagined. Then you see the swell in his pants and you understand.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, quickly removing your hand from him. “Sorry.”

He just smiled back at you before looking back at his files.

After a while of planning what you’ll do when you arrive in Vermont and the lack of your hand distracting him, Spencer finally collects his thoughts.

“625 square miles,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Huh?” Garcia responds.

“Green Mountain forest. It covers 625 square miles of land.” Spencer states.

“Welcome back, genius,” Emily smiles. “We missed you.”

You look back down at Spencer’s crotch to see that he’s controlled the situation he had going on earlier. You smirk, realising the power you have to dramatically drop Spencer’s IQ with a single touch.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid blurb #blurb #criminal minds

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Finally finished the first part of gai’s 8 gates coma and how kakashi dealt with it rewrite people have been requesting. [tw blood, injury, coma, death discussions, grief]

Kurenai: Kakashi Kks: Ah. Kurenai and...baby, what’s up? Kurenai: You mind if I come in a moment? Kks: Uhhhhh I-

Kks: So what did you need to speak about? Did something happen? K: No, Nothing’s happened. You haven’t gotten to properly see and bond with her yet. Here Kks: You know I’m not fond of kids. K: That’s why I didn’t ask. Hold your arms out. Ok, now, don’t look absolutely petrified.

Kks: She’s ok, I guess [YELP] Oi! Don’t pinch me while I’m holding your baby! K: You wouldn’t drop her. Asuma would haunt you forever! Kks: Terrifying thought, Mirai.... How are you feeling? K: Exhausted. Do you really want to hear how horrifying having a baby is? Kks: No, please don’t tell me.

K: I came over to check on you as well. Any news? Kks: No. He’s still the same. K: Is that why it looks like this in here? Kks: ...Yeah. Doctor said he may never wake up. Since we’re eachother’s medical contacts, Tsunade told me I had to prepare to make hard decisions should it come to that.

Kks: With the council breathing down my neck over a job I don’t want, I had... A bit of an outburst. K: I don’t even blame you. That’s... That they expect you to carry on like normal. Still grieving. The person you love most is gone. But you’re still here. Don’t let them just dust you off and move on again. I’ll always have your back. Kks: You and Asuma always did. Even when I wasn’t grateful for it.

Kks: I can’t tell if they just don’t care or didn’t realize, Gai’s the one who held me together all these years. Only reason I’m still here at all is because of him. I don’t think tenzou, the elders, or the village are prepared for what’ll become of me if I lose him. So, I don’t care anymore. Let them be mad. I won’t give up on him. K: You should talk to him. Kks: huh K: Talk about anything! I’m sure the sound of your voice will help him find his way back. Especially if you sound sad, Kks: uuh

K: I can hear it now, “My eternal rival is sad? Not on my watch!“ Kks: Pretty accurate impression. K: There’s been lots of source material! Kks: Maaa, Your mom’s a huge dork K: Oi! [kakashi chuckles]

K: He’ll be so upset he missed her birth Kks: Oh, devastated. I can’t wait to see the look on Gai’s face, Mirai, when I tell him /I/ held you first! When he wakes up

Kks: Hey, Gai. Kurenai said i should talk to you.

Kks: Feels weird. Most of the people I’m used to talking to like this are all... Dead.

It’s so eerie how silent you’ve been for so long. you’re not even this quiet when you sleep. Your kids come everyday to see you. Naruto and sakura when they can. Lots of others. I’ve been telling them embarrassing  stories from when we were kids since you keep making them wait. Do you remember when I came over while you and Dai were making supper

Dai: Kakashi! Good to see you, my boy! Kks: Id Gai home? Dai: He’s helping with supper! Go on, inside, you’re always welcome! Kks: Ok Dai: Atta boy Kks: Hey, G- !? ummm? Gai: OH!! Rival!! Kks:  Is that a lid?! Gai: Correct!! It stops me from crying while cutting onions! A win for me!!

Kks: Against.... the onions? Gai: Yep! KKs:[snicker] Gai: Laugh all you want! Not everyone can comprehend innovation. Kks: Whatever. You forgot this at the training grounds. I know it’s yours there’s a turtle on it. Gai: See! You’re already tearing up! Kks: Am not Gai: Also, thankyou so much! Kks: Bye, I’m leaving. Gai: Could it be? You’re scared I can cut much faster than you! Kks: I am not scared. Gai: Good, I think we have another lid! Kks: YOU-!

Dai: Great to see growing boys with such a hunger! I’ll never have to prep onions again! Kks: I think about that everytime I chop onions now. You’ve altered my brain with all the ridiculous things you’ve done. Can’t even look at the toys you’ve gotten the dogs without getting emotional

Kks: Just knowing you’re here still, I can barely function. It’s pretty pathetic... Your hair’s getting long. Turning into your dad.

[gai’s heartbeat] Kks: Gai

[gais heartbeat continues]

[gai’s heartbeat continues] Kks: If anything should happen to me, you’ll rush over, right? Gai: Damn right, I will. Dont you worry about that.

[Gai’s heartbeat]

Kks: I miss you

#kakagai #gaikaka #Kakashi Hatake #Maito Gai #might guy #naruto #my art #//coma #//blood #//death mention #Kurenai Yuhi #mirai sarutobi #naruto spoilers #i guess

[unholyhelbig]

https://www.tumblr.com/unholyhelbig/748001277238181888/ive-reread-the-entirety-of-oversight-again-and

i’ve done this as well. i think u should 😌😏😉☺️🥰

Title: Rose Colored Glasses [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Reader gets word that Natasha is hurt and rushes home to assess the situation.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): injury to nose & foot, slight blood, and shrimp

[a/n: Did someone request more oversight? Because I've got you covered. This is pure fluff, sorry for the lack of angst! It's short, and sweet, and not proof read because I don't have time :( ]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

A quiet house was never a good sign. Growing up in the foster care system teeming with other wards of the state had taught you that. Often, you were three or four to a room. There were bunk beds with sheets slotted against the ceiling or stuffed under the mattress above your own, just for some type of barrier. It was an illusion of privacy, most of the time. Because houses like that were never quiet.

When you’d moved in across from Darcy after your 18th birthday, things weren’t quiet. Above you was a Latin-American couple that would wait until just past midnight to turn on a slow, rhythmic song and dance. Their steps were soft, and calculated. They carved out time for one another every single night between shifts. Just for the two of them. You often let the thumping base lull you to sleep.

The city was just outside your window. In the summer, you could prop it open with a brick and let the sounds of cars become a backdrop. There were sirens, and when the fire hydrant on the corner was loosened, the world welcomed a cold blast of water, sprinkling into the street. That was the opposite of quiet. That made your chest feel light, and warm.

After marrying Natasha Romanoff, you settled into the loudness of her home. Your home. Veronica was constantly running around the twists and turns of the bottom floor, Clint or Kate or Darcy galloping after her with a big smile on their face. They slowed themselves to make sure they didn’t break anything, but they wanted her to win, too.

Yelena often came with the muffled sounds of Russian techno bands coming from the headphones around her neck. It was a staple to find her in the kitchen with her head down, slicing into an apple from the backyard with precision unknown. Natasha would tug the headphones off to get her attention, or to send her into annoyance.

The night that Natasha got hurt was stifled with the sound of rain. It had soaked you to the bone, dripping onto the linoleum floor and then the carpet as you ascended the stairs two at a time. You’d been at the docks later than usual, the storm that had plagued the side of the harbor was relentless and delayed shipments.

The captain of the shipping boat your family had utilized for decades wanted to discuss something over whatever crap coffee you could beat out of the machine in your office. He spoke with a thick southern drawl, his mustache was encrusted with salt and sand. You had shed your coat and tried to warm yourself up by hugging your mug to your chest. Nothing seemed to work.

While you weren’t opposed to giving the man a raise, you were not the final say. Natasha was, and you figured he could use the company more than anything. The captain flicked through books that were on the shelf, taking two or three for his next journey out to sea. It was like clockwork with him, and you indulged his need for quiet companionship each time.

When your phone rang, you never looked at the caller ID. Those who were privileged enough to get your number knew to talk without any of the pleasantries that they were used to. Clint’s voice came through the receiver in a smooth, hushed tone that made you believe he wasn’t supposed to be calling you in the first place.

“Look, y/n, there’s been an… incident.”

“What kind of incident?”

He was meant to escort her to one of the many cocktail parties that Carlos LaMuerto was throwing at his mansion that bordered the same body of water that you resided on now. They were lovely get-togethers that you often attended with your wife. This, however, was the fourth one this month and your stomach was turning at the idea of another cocktail shrimp and lamb pate.

Clint had offered, seeing the desperation in your eyes. And while Natasha was reluctant, she ultimately agreed. No news of a bust had reached you yet, nor had a gun blazing argument. While the Captain licked his dry lips and scanned the books in front of him, you continued in hushed tones.

“Nat’s hurt. It’s not a big deal, you can finish up your business. She’s just being stubborn is all.”

An escaped sigh “I’ll be there.”

No shit, she was being stubborn. Your wife was bull-headed and wouldn’t admit to the smallest defeat. It eased your nerves slightly, and only slightly, that Clint said it wasn’t a big deal. No gunshot to the back, or knife to the throat. It wasn’t good enough, however.

Natasha would be upset that you tracked mud into the house and left your boots sloshing by the door. You were panting by the time you reached the double doors that led to your bedroom. They were, of course, blocked by Clint and Kate. Yelena was leaning lazily against the railing that was parallel. She regarded you with an uninterested stare.

“You did not have to come here.” She said, “We’ve got it handled.”

“She kicked all of you out, didn’t she?”

“What? She certainly did not!”

Yelena’s voice pitched with her lie. Kate’s cheeks turned an off-shade of pink and Clint just rthe hallway, that was a good sign. Still, neither of the two moved to let you into your own room.

“If you’re not going to get out of the way, can you at least tell me what happened?”

There was a muffled reply from behind the door. With the way that the voice flitted, you knew that she was trapped on the bed. Otherwise, she would have leveled you with a glare right here and now. The words were simple “Do it, you die.”

“Oh, come on,” You whispered harshly, turning your attention to Kate instead. She was the easiest to break. “Katie, what is the harm in letting me through? I’m going to catch my death if I stay in these clothes.”

“Catch your death?” Clint scoffed “What are you? A poet from the 1800’s?”

“I’m about to be breaking your fingers if you don’t-“

“You can’t even break wind,”

The two of your voices combined as you kept at it. You didn’t’ miss the wary look that Kate shot Yelena. One way or another, you’d get into your room. You refused to be banished to the couch again, especially in wet clothes. If you had to threaten ruining the rugs with your muddy footprints, so be it.

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” You held up both of your hands, silencing the chaos of the corridor. “Nat, you are my wife, you’re hurt. Whether you like it or not, I’m coming in. Does anyone have any objections?”

Kate went to raise her hand, but Yelena yanked it back down and shook her head no. You tore into Clint with a look that could drop him dead. He relented and stepped away from the door. While you had a moment of peace, you walked into the dark of the room. She’d turned out the lights, save for the half-moon that showed a pale pattern against the carpet.

When you reached for the light switch on the wall, Natasha let out a noise that was similar to a wounded animal. You halted, your actions and made out her form on the bed. She was folded in on herself, her silhouette rigid.

“Baby,” you cooed, closing the distance between you and the bed. She grunted again, this time in pain. She attempted to turn away from you. You lowered yourself onto the sliver of bed, approaching the situation softly. “Can I turn on a light?”

“No, I’m hideous.”

You chuckled softly “I highly doubt that, my love. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Natasha had never liked being vulnerable around you. It had taken a full weekend of you nursing her back to her feet after the incident on the pier for her to let herself cry. You held her for hours, her nose pressed against the small of your neck. She’d gripped onto you, as if you’d leave. But you never would.

Eventually, you saw her shadow nod. Before she could change her mind, you flicked on the lamp on the side table. It didn’t’ have a far reach, but the light was less harsh on the both of you. It was impossible not to notice the blood that had dried against Natasha’s nose, a split right down the middle.

You’d seen her with broken bones before, bruises that wrapped around her midsection. You’d put ace bandage around her ribs after drawing her a bath. This was nothing to be ashamed about. In fact, she often saw them as battle scars that would heal in a pink gash.

Her foot was wrapped up with a bag of peas and one of frozen carrots that Clint, or even Yelena had situated. There was bruising around her ankle, it looked painful and you internally winced at the coloring. She groaned into the small of her elbow.

“I want to die”

“Natty, it’s okay. This is nothing a cozy weekend inside can’t fix.”

She said something that was quiet and muffled by her arm. You didn’t understand her one bit, but she squeezed a single tear from her eye that you wiped away dutifully before it could reach the silk of sheets.

“What was that, baby?” You asked gently.

She threw both of her hands down and glared at the ceiling. Her fingers eventually found yours, squeezing your palm in reflex. Her words came out in a quick breath, “I tripped over a carpet at the stupid dinner party and hit my face on the catering table.”

You were effectively silenced. That was very un-Natasha. But lately, you and Clint had been pestering her about her eyesight, especially at night. It wasn’t something she wanted to hear. In fact, each time you brought up the idea of glasses, she would effectively silence you with a glare, or even a kick to the shin under the kitchen table if you had company.

You bit the inside of your cheek and ran your thumb over her hand. She clutched your hand tighter. Now was certainly not the time to laugh, and while you fought back the initial giggle, you were more concerned about your wife.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“I bet you got right back up.” You said, pressing your palm against her cheek. “None of those fancy party types would dare question your influence on this city.”

“Shrimp went flying everywhere.” Natasha pouted.

“Everyone was tired of shrimp anyway, even the shrimp.”

She grasped at the collar of your jacket and pulled you closer to her, pressing her lips against your own. They were warm, the warmest thing that you’ve felt since getting caught in the passing storm. You were careful not to lean on her ribs, breathing in the rosewater scent of her.

Natasha pressed her forehead against yours, running a hand up your spine. She grimaced. “You’re all wet.”

“Well now I am,” You smirked against her jawline, leaving a little nip in your wake. “You need to get glasses.”

“Don’t change the subject. You’re getting the sheets all damp, and you smell like fish.”

“I smell like fish?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to the exposed part of her neck. You felt Natasha laugh too, using her hands to cover her face from the blush that was blooming against her cheeks. “We’re talking about me?”

She laughed harder, attempting to shove you off but you let your body go slack against her, not using your arms to hold yourself up anymore. “Yes! Go shower!”

“Mm, but you’re so warm.”

“You’re not going to be warm if I make you sleep on the couch.”

You gasped dramatically, pulling your head off her stomach and meeting her dark green stare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me. After the day I’ve had, I refuse to sleep next to my wife when she smells like a marina.”

Even while she said it, her voice was gentle, her fingers working over your scalp to brush the wet hair from your eyes. You pulled yourself up to give her another peck on the lips, careful to avoid the split nose and busted ankle.

“Fine, but only because you need more aspirin.”

She grunted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Can’t believe I let you through my defenses.”

“Uh-huh. Get some rest. I’m going to go talk to your defenses about getting you an appointment with an optometrist.”

You turned to move towards the bathroom, already craving the warmth of a shower and some clean pajamas. Two steps from the doorway and you felt a plush throw pillow hit you directly on the back of the head. Natasha had amazing aim, always had, and always would.

You bent down and picked up the gold upholstered pillow, giving her a faux glare. “You’re not getting this back.”

“Oh, come on, baby.” She stuck out her lower lip “I have to prop up my foot.”

“You should have thought of that before you launched it at my head.”

 [Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x reader #Mafia au #Yelena Belova #Kate Bishop #Clint Barton #Reader insert #request #natasha romonova #Bishlova #kate bishop x yelena belova

[saltycharacters]

[ID: Traditional artwork featuring a variety of characters from different media. The first two star Frank Frankly from Welcome Home, the first with him standing, arms crossed as he surveys the audience and realistic bugs little the background, along with random shapes and colors. The other has him sitting in front of a white background, seemingly discussing insects. The next drawing features Blossom from the Powerpuff Girls, exclaiming something as she points vaguely to her right. Finally, the last drawing is of Danny Fenton from Danny Phantom, in ghost form as energy emanates from his hands, looking serious with a swirly green background behind him. End ID]

Drawings made while consuming media

#i havent seen the latest update yet for welcome home dont spoil #but anyway love frank hes just like me fr #welcome home #powerpuff girls #danny phantom #Frank Frankly #Blossom #Danny Fenton #my art #tw insects #tw bugs #bugs #insects #realistic bugs

[navybrat817]

Negotiations

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You meet with Andy to discuss the terms of your potential contract. Word Count: Over 4.2k Warnings: Slow burn, reader is broke (is that a warning?), sugar daddy offer, tension, slight insecurities, negotiations, inner monologue, Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?) Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics , Header - yours truly A/N: Welcome back to my Terms and Conditions AU! Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thanks!), but any and all mistakes are my own. ❤️ Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Work felt like the longest shift even though it was only a few hours. You saw the customers through a different set of eyes as you served them. You wondered how many of them struggled like you or what they would do if someone like Andy entered their lives. If you came to an agreement with him on everything, you weren't sure if you'd ever step foot in the diner again after you quit. Not because you were embarrassed.

It was merely time to look forward.

And look my best.

You turned to the side when you checked your reflection. Estelle had way too much fun picking out an outfit for you. After carefully searching and sneakily looking at the price tag so she didn’t splurge, you opted for a sleeveless, blazer style dress. Nothing over the top or too fancy. You still wanted to look like you while looking professional.

Though she insisted it was your birthday gift, along with the surprisingly comfortable black heels, you planned to pay her back. Whether from the money Andy gave you or once you got your paycheck months from now at your new job. If she refused, you’d tell her the only gift you needed was her support and she gave that to you. Like she knew you were thinking about it, she messaged you.

“Good luck! I know you look hot! Knock his socks and pants off! He better give you everything you deserve!”

You had to smile at her enthusiasm. “It’s his office. His pants are staying on.”

“You say that now, but he’s the boss. You’ll change your tune once he has his hands on you.”

Laughing as you tucked your phone away, you couldn’t completely disagree with her. Andy robbed you of your breath whenever you saw him and it surprised you that you could maintain logical thinking when he was close by. You had to maintain that rational headspace today. He was a man used to people telling him what he wanted to hear. As an ex-lawyer and businessman, he could sway things in his favor if you weren’t careful.

Considering what he was offering you, it didn’t once feel like he was taking advantage of your misfortunes.

You stopped yourself from messaging Andy that you were on your way. He was a busy man with more important stuff to deal with than a check-in from you. It would be one of the topics of discussion shortly anyhow. Would he want to know where you are at all times or would he be content with the occasional message?

How much control will he want over me? How much do I want to give him?

Thanking and paying the cab driver as you arrived at the building, you didn't feel as out of your element the way you did at the restaurant. The office setting was familiar. It was bittersweet going inside though for something that wasn't work or an interview. Maybe this was better.

You held your head high as if it was.

I can do this.

You handed your bag over for the security officer to check while he verified your identification. Satisfied once he double checked your name and ID, he handed you a guest badge and allowed you to go to the elevators. It comforted you that Andy and his employees were safe when they went into his building. You wondered how often you'd be here or if he'd keep you away from his office outside of functions.

You avoided looking at anyone as you got into the elevator, though you felt the eyes of a couple of men sweep over your body. It didn’t matter what they thought. Andy was the only one you wanted to look good for. As you passed by each floor, the more you worried about breaking into a sweat. You shifted back and forth until the door opened.

One step closer.

It took you a second to move your feet forward and turn down the hall. It seemed to stretch on for miles, the door at the end of it was large and daunting. It was like entering the lion’s den, but you weren't afraid. Even if you did pause again before you turned the handle and walked in.

An older woman, Irene according to the nameplate on her desk, sat outside of a set of double doors, giving you a kind smile as she looked up from her keyboard. You didn't let her appearance fool you. Anyone who worked for someone as powerful as Andy likely had thick skin and a "take no crap" attitude.

"How may I help you?"

"Hi. I'm here to see Andy Barber," you replied, giving her your name and inwardly wincing. Of course, she knew you were there to see him. Why else would you be there?

"Yes, Mr. Barber is expecting you," she smiled, pressing the intercom on her desk. "Mr. Barber, your 4pm is here."

"Send her in, please."

It isn't fair that he sounds sexy through a speaker box.

"May I get you anything to drink?" she asked.

"No, thank you," you smiled, following her as she opened the double doors.

This is it.

The office was just as you imagined, the walls lined with a mixture of art and accolades. A small table and chairs sat on one side with a couch on the other. It was elegant, but the man behind the desk drew your attention. Sunlight filtered in through the floor to ceiling windows behind Andy, casting a halo around him as he stood up. A symbol of power and authority in his black suit with the skyline behind him, you found it difficult to take your next breath.

He looks like he was born to be in charge.

"It's good to see you again," Andy smiled, walking around the desk and gesturing to the table. "Why don't we sit over here? Did Irene offer you a drink?"

"Of course, I did, Mr. Barber. And before you remind me, I know to hold your calls," she chastised him, which only made him chuckle before she smiled at you. "I'll be just outside if you need anything."

I knew it. Take no crap.

"Thank you," you said, giggling as you walked to the table. "I like her."

"I do, too. She keeps me on my toes," he said as he pulled out the chair for you. "How was your day?"

"Uneventful," you replied, setting your bag beside you. It was nice that he asked. "How are you?"

"My day was just fine," he said, taking a seat. He had a notepad waiting there, similar to yours.

"That's good."

He gave you a half smile and you debated whether or not to continue with small talk. "Nervous?"

“A little bit,” you said, refusing to lie to him. It wouldn’t start things off on the right foot if you did. “I didn’t have ‘Sugar Daddy Negotiations’ on my BINGO card this year.”

He chuckled, the sound beautiful in the large space. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t either," he joked. "And you don’t look nervous.”

“It actually does,” you smiled. “How do I look?”

“You look beautiful.”

“Oh,” you said, your cheeks growing warmer the longer he gazed at you. While you wanted that to be his reaction, it was somehow unexpected. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, by the way.”

“And I wasn’t taking the bait. I’m telling you what I see.”

“Thank you. This was a birthday gift from Estelle,” you said, smoothing out the dress even though you were sitting. Why you felt the need to tell him, you weren’t sure.

“It’s a beautiful dress, but I was talking about your smile,” he said, his lip tugging in a small smile of his own before he cleared his throat. “As much as I’d like to sit here and continue to shower you with praise, maybe we should save that for another time.”

Your throat went dry at the implication, but you didn't want to get ahead of yourself. “Of course."

"Today is about figuring out our terms and setting expectations. I plan to take notes as we go along, if you don't mind."

"That's fine because I plan to do the same," you explained as you took out your notepad. "I’ve made a list of things I believe we should discuss and agree on before moving forward."

“You’re prepared,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "And getting down to business like last time."

“I do what I can,” you said, glancing at the first item on your list. “First thing is the length of our contract. You mentioned Mr. Huffman’s merger could take a few months, but there’s no definitive timeframe. My proposal is six months or when the job becomes available, whichever comes sooner.”

He considered your words carefully. “I spoke with Scott again and a merger like this may take a minimum of six months due to the range of variables. I propose a year or when the job becomes available. It hopefully won’t take that long, but I’d feel more comfortable if we have more time as opposed to less.”

A year was a long time, but you understood his perspective. “Why don’t we meet in the middle? Nine months.��

“Nine months, but if the merger is still pending at that time, we can revisit the contract and extend it if needed,” he proposed.

“Agreed,” you said, jotting down your notes on your pad while he did the same. “My job. You said I would need to quit and I’d be unable to take another position while under contract. I have no objections to that, but I won’t flat-out quit the diner. I’ll put in my two week notice. If they tell me not to come back, that’s on them.”

“I think that’s the respectable thing to do,” he said, nodding to your pad. “I don’t know where living arrangements are on your list, but I’d like to discuss that next.”

You wanted to discuss your free time since you wouldn't have a job any longer, but you would circle back to that. “Okay. You said over lunch that you’re not comfortable with me staying in my current place.”

“I did and I stand by that. I understand that my building doesn’t guarantee complete safety over yours because anything could happen anywhere at any time, but knowing you’re close by would help put me at ease. I have a loft ready to go and you can treat it as your own place. If something isn’t to your liking, we can change it within reason.”

“Within reason?”

Andy smirked slightly. “I can’t exactly take a sledgehammer to the wall if you want to make the space bigger,” he said, taking out his phone and pulling up an image. “But it’s a nice place. Feel free to swipe through it.”

The photos were beautiful and the living room alone looked larger than your entire apartment. “Is spending time at your place an expectation?” you asked.

“I’d like it if you did for an occasional dinner, but I understand if you'd rather not. I'd also like to meet you once a month outside of contractual obligations to talk.”

Sounds like a date. Is it though?

“I agree to the loft, the occasional dinner, and meeting with you once a month," you agreed. It wasn't overwhelming or demanding. You'd still have a sense of independence. "But I’d like to keep my current apartment. If I take this job in the upcoming months, I can't expect you to cover the loft anymore and I doubt I could afford it even with a decent salary. I’ll need a place to go back to until I find something better.”

"I own it," he said. He wasn't bragging in your mind. He was stating a fact.

"I doubt I could afford your rent then. I keep my apartment."

“Done,” he said after a moment. You were glad he agreed. Your apartment was still yours. “Which is a good segway into expenses. As a reminder, I plan to cover the rent for your current apartment, along with any bills associated with it such as cable or internet. If you prefer to shut those off during the contract, we can. I’ll also cover your cell phone, insurance, credit card bills, student loans, any debt you pay on a monthly basis. Oh, and groceries.”

Tears filled your eyes as he opened his mouth to continue. The more you tried to compose yourself, the more your face scrunched up. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. You hadn't expected to get emotional, but actually hearing him say he’d cover your monthly bills and help you stay on top of everything was unreal. You'd sleep better at night knowing you had nothing to worry about.

I probably look ridiculous.

“Don’t be,” he said gently, handing you his handkerchief so you could dab your eyes.

“I’m just,” you stopped to take a breath. It was okay to be vulnerable. That was part of communicating. “I’ve carried this stress on my shoulders and knowing that you’re going to take some of that weight away is… I’m never going to be able to repay you for that or thank you enough.”

“I don’t expect a monetary repayment nor would I want that. I told you, honey. You're an honest and kind person. Your company is going to be more than enough.”

He sounds too good to be true.

“You say that now, but you'll grow tired of me,” you teased, holding out your hand to give him the handkerchief. “Thank you.”

He shook his head and refused to take it back. “Keep it. And considering I offered a year for this, I know I won't grow tired of your company,” he said, a bit of concern in his eyes as you sniffled. “Are you okay to continue? We can take a break.”

“I'm fine,” you promised, straightening up and feeling lighter, like the weight was already gone. “We were discussing expenses.”

“Yes,” he smiled, gesturing to your outfit. “I plan to take you shopping so you can have a few outfits, jewelry, shoes, make-up, and whatever else you need ready for the planned upcoming events, as well as some dressed down outfits so you’re comfortable when we travel and to spruce up your wardrobe if you’d like.”

Careful. You’re going to spoil me.

“I’m also going to deposit two thousand dollars into your account each month for your leisure,” he added, writing it on his pad as if that was the final say in the matter.

“Two thousand dollars?!” you nearly shouted. You weren’t trying to sound hysterical, but you failed. “I’m sorry, but who spends that much on clothes each month?!”

Andy looked like he was trying not to laugh at the incredulous look on your face. “You don’t have to spend it on clothes. It’s for you to use as you wish.”

“But you’re already buying me a whole new wardrobe AND covering all of my bills and expenses for nine months. I’m assuming you're covering travel expenses, too?”

“I will,” he confirmed.

“Then there’s no reason why I’d need that much money,” you said with a shake of your head. Estelle would probably tease you for not agreeing, but it was too much. “I can’t possibly need more than five hundred a month.”

“One thousand,” he said firmly as you narrowed your eyes. “Humor me, honey. Please?”

You tapped your pen against the pad as you thought it over. You really didn’t see a reason for that much, but you could put any leftover funds each month into savings. It would be good to pay Estelle back.

Plus, how could you argue when Andy gave you a sweet smile?

“Fine. One thousand each month,” you said, ignoring the look of satisfaction in his eyes. “Okay. We’ve discussed the length of the contract, my job, living arrangements, expenses, which includes traveling. How about traveling itself?”

“Is your passport current?” he asked.

“It is.”

“Good. Some of the traveling will require us to go out of the country and you’ll need it handy. We’ll need to coordinate our schedules so you can block off dates in your calendar. We’ll most likely share a suite for any non-local events, but I’m not going to make you share a bed with me. You have my word.”

You nodded as you wrote that down. It was a bit of a surprise that he didn’t expect you to sleep with him. “Thank you, Andy,” you said, pointing at him with your pen. “But I’m planning to tell Estelle about every function, big or small, so she knows where I am. I won’t budge on that.”

“You’re allowed to give her the details. You said you trust her and that she can be discreet.”

You could never picture Andy as a creep, but the confirmation that he wouldn't force you to sleep with him and that Estelle would know what's going on helped you relax. "If I'm not working or going to functions with you, what am I doing with the rest of my time?" you asked.

Does he expect me to be at his beck and call?

"I'm glad you asked. It's your time to do what you want. Relax, hang out with friends, pamper yourself. Minus the days you'll have blocked out in your calendar, the time is yours," he explained, lightly twirling his pen in his hand. The motion momentarily distracted you. "I only ask if you plan to leave the city to tell me, that way I know you're unavailable if anything last minute comes up."

You weren't sure what you were going to do with that extra time. While a nine month long vacation sounded nice, you didn't want it to be all leisure. You needed somewhat of a routine. Maybe you could take some self development courses to prepare for going back to the office.

"That's fair. I don't have any plans to leave the city, but I'll be sure to let you know if I do," you said, hoping you weren't missing anything as you looked over what you had written down. "What if I’m sick or there’s an emergency and I can't be with you?”

“Then you won’t go," he said as a matter of fact. "I’d never ask you to choose between this arrangement and your well-being or family. Depending on the situation, I could miss it to help you.”

That was unexpected. Andy shouldn't have to put you ahead of any of his obligations. The offer though, even if it never came to fruition, warmed your insides. "That's kind of you, Andy," you said softly before you cleared your throat. “The last topic I have written down is sex.”

“No,” he said, something unreadable in his eyes at the suggestion. “Sex is not on the table because I’m not going to pay you for that.”

“Oh,” you said, quickly scratching it off your list. It was admirable on his part, but also slightly disappointing. Clearly you misread some of the signals. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he assured you, placing his hand over yours before you could pull it away. “If I sounded harsh, I’m sorry. I understand sex is an expectation for some arrangements, but it isn’t for me and I would never want you to feel pressured to be physical with me. I also have no judgments against anyone who pays for sex. My preference regarding intimacy is for it to happen organically.”

“I appreciate the explanation,” you said. This was a business transaction to him. That much was clear. But knowing his reasoning behind it did help. “As far as being affectionate at functions, what’s your take on that? Or going on dates?”

“I may have my arm around you or keep you close to my side, but nothing more if you’re uncomfortable with that. If you are, please tell me and I’ll stop immediately,” he answered before a moment of silence stretched on. "You're asking if we're going to go on dates?"

"You mentioned meeting once a month. Is that a date?"

He waited a few seconds before he answered. "It's a chance for us to meet up and talk. I don't want to demand a title for those moments. That isn't fair to you."

It wasn't a "yes" or "no" answer. Maybe after his divorce and not knowing if people genuinely wanted to connect with him, he wasn't interested in the dating scene. "Okay."

He leaned back in his chair with a hum. “You deviated from the sex discussion quickly.”

“You said it wasn’t on the table,” you reminded him. You weren't about to make a fool of yourself by pushing.

“I said I wasn’t going to pay you for sex. I never said sex wasn’t on the table at all,” he pointed out. You jumped to the conclusion that he didn't want it because it wouldn't be part of the contract. “Any discussion we have regarding that, I’d prefer not to be in a contract form.”

“So if it does happen, we’ll work through it together naturally?” you asked, not wanting to get your hopes up.

His gaze softened considerably. “Yes, we would. And I’d hope you’d trust me enough to know I’d treat you well and take care of you.”

"I do," you said.

"But sex and a relationship aren't expectations of our agreement or outside of it," he said, taking his hand away from yours. "I want to make that clear."

Andy driving the point home was what you needed, as saddening as it was. At the end of the day, it was a contract. He was paying you for your company. Surely he didn't want anything else. "Thank you for reiterating that. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss that I missed?"

His expression remained neutral, but you imagined it disappointed him that you shifted the conversation back to business. Wishful thinking on your part. "Yeah. The only other thing I wanted to discuss is the possibility of you having a driver."

"A driver?" you asked. Wasn't that a bit much? "I don't mind taking cabs or Ubers."

"I understand that, but I'd prefer if you had a driver. If you have to meet me for an event and I can't escort you myself, they will know exactly where to go. You also won't have to pay for someone to drive you around if you want to go anywhere."

"But you're paying them," you said.

"My job is to cover your expenses," he shrugged, leaning his head back and reaching up to loosen his tie. You stared for far too long. "Told you I want to take care of you, honey."

You shifted in your seat, hoping he didn't take any notice. "I want to pick the driver," you said, a little more breathy than before.

That poor driver is likely going to be bored for the next three quarters of a year being my chauffeur.

"From a selection of my choosing. They're all trustworthy."

"I'm giving Estelle the details of that, too," you said.

"I expect nothing less," he smiled, catching your eye. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

"Not that I can think of," you said.

He tapped the notepad with his pen. "I'm going to have a contract drawn up, but I won't ask you to sign it for a week. This will give you time to back out if you need to and it will also give you a few days to contact me should you think of anything else."

"One week," you whispered. Could you wait that long? What if you did think of something else?

"Until then," he said, standing to walk back to his desk. He came back with a letter sized envelope. "So you know I'm serious."

Your eyebrows shot up when you opened the envelope. It was a cashier's check for two thousand dollars made out to you. He had it ready for you. "Andy, this-"

"I know we agreed on one thousand, but I was set on two thousand before we talked it over. Even if you decide not to move forward with this, I want you to take it."

Afraid you might cry again, you set the check down and stood up to hug him. He stiffened in your hold and you wondered if you overstepped before he exhaled and wrapped his arms around your back. You thanked him already with your words, so you wanted to do it again with a hug. The way he held you in return, it felt like was saying "you're welcome".

And that you weren't alone.

"I wish we could have that dinner tonight," he whispered, his mouth close to your ear. You shivered before you reluctantly pulled away. "Unfortunately, I have to get drinks with a few executives."

"That sounds terrible," you teased, drawing a chuckle out of him. "I should get going then."

"It is terrible," he agreed, making sure you had the check and your other things as he led you to the door. "I'll see you back here in a week at the same time."

"And I'll hopefully speak to you before then," you said, not wanting to sound clingy.

But the smile he gave you was a sign of hope. "I'd like that."

This is going to be the longest week ever.

I don't need to wait a week. I'm signing on the dotted line! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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