#I have no more shame I am fully indulging myself

[thelightsandtheroses]

one: florida!!!!

Call It What You Want | Frankie Morales x OFC

Summary: Daisy never expected to move to Florida but recovering from burnout in the sunshine state seems a good enough plan. Years after the death of her estranged half-brother, Tom, she finds herself agreeing to move in with Frankie Morales, Tom’s former army colleague and friend. Falling for her roommate, who is definitely keeping secrets about your brother’s death, may not be the best way to ensure a fresh start, or is it actually what they both needed all along? Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog MDNI, mentions of previous canon death and grief, references to corporate burnout Word Count: 3.7k Notes: Please note I am not from Florida, or even the US, so there’s a degree of creative license here, What I know about firefighting probably comes from 9-1-1, other firefighter shows, or google so please don’t think this is gong to be an accurate depiction of the Florida FD for Frankie. It’s fic, babes, let’s let me be a little self-indulgent. This is a rewrite of my first fic which felt too fast, too angsty and not the story I wanted to tell for a concept I really loved. It’s seen some considerable changes since then while retaining several themes, but I am so excited to share this and particularly this version of Frankie who has been rotting my brain for months and months 🔥 🔥🫠

Series Masterlist | Next. | A03

Palm trees, beaches and viral memes. That’s what I’ve always associated with Florida. It never struck me as a potential place I would make my home. I thought I might vacation there one day perhaps; some time in a distant future when I had a real grown-up life and family and we would go to the theme parks, buy overpriced merchandise and fried food and take cheesy photos before flying or driving home.

It’s funny how things work out though, isn’t it?

I pull into the apartment block with trepidation.

This is the fourteenth apartment I’ve viewed this week. Fourteen. I thought the market back in Chicago was bad but this is a whole new hellscape, or maybe it was easier because I knew more people back then. College roommates turn into post-college roommates and your circle is fully formed. It means you have people when you need to find a new place, there’s a whisper network, friends of friends.

I don’t have that anymore.

I want it though. I miss it.

I think I miss it.

The advert says that this listing is for a single room and the apartment is occupied by a group of young professional women. It’s the best option I’ve come across yet in my browsing of online postings which has taken me through several levels of Dante’s inferno. Facebook is just one above Craigslist in the hierarchy of the internet hellscapes I’ve seen recently.  One guy asked for my shoe size and asked if I routinely wore high heels before I could view the apartment. Safe to say, that one went off the list extremely quickly. It was a shame though - that listing had a double room and balcony, but I think I can see why it’s been listed for over sixty days now.

I haven’t had a roommate since college and this whole process has been a soul-crushing exercise on my already fragile self esteem. I don’t think I can take much more of this.

I take a deep breath. I’ve got this. I will find a room so I can move out of Molly’s and do something, anything with my life. Anything that’s not just existing in this strange purgatory I’ve found myself in. I’m potentially placing too much importance on the apartment here, but it’s a symbol, an omen.

It’s a fresh start. A signal to the universe that I’m here, that I’m doing something.

I feel like everything else I’m hoping and dreaming of can’t even start unless I have an apartment, and I can’t afford my own apartment and start a business so I need to find a roommate.

Maybe this is finally the one.

“It was so bad, Benny,” I say, taking a glug of lukewarm beer. “It was like being in high school over again, but worse. Infinitely worse!”

“Worse?” Benny tilts his head as he asks the question, something that only heightens my association between him and golden retrievers.

“Yes, because I’m not sixteen with a promise it’ll get better when I ‘find my people’ in college. This sucks. What was I thinking? Clearly I wasn’t. Maybe I should have stayed …” I trail off awkwardly.

“You were thinking that Florida is the perfect place to start over, which it is, Daisy,” he replies confidently.

Benny and his brother, Will, have played a considerable part in my move here. They served with my half-brother Tom.

Tom died more than five years ago - I don’t really know much about how it happened, Tom and I weren’t particularly close. There was an age difference, I sometimes felt he didn’t want me as a sister. I was only a reminder of his own parents’ relationship breakdown after all. I wish I could say we had that sibling bond but we didn’t. It’s clear to me his real siblings were the men in his team - he was their brother.

After his death though, Will kept in touch with me. I wondered if he thought he needed to fill a gap from Tom, if there was a sense of responsibility there. Tom never called me though except for birthdays and Christmas. I haven’t told Will that though.

It’s been nice feeling like I have a big brother. The irony isn’t lost on me that I feel this the most once my actual big brother is dead.

Will encouraged me to move down here, as did Molly, Tom’s ex-wife. They said I needed a fresh start and maybe they’re right.

I can’t remember the last time I felt like me. I’m not even sure what that feels like now, who I’m supposed to be and who I am really.

Florida seems a good place for reinvention though, for something new. I’m closer to the beach, to weekends spent with my toes scrunched in the sand as I sip coffee and read books. Days spent with Benny and Will

“Hey Benny,” A voice calls as I hear the front door open.

“We’re in here.“

“You remember Frankie, right?” Benny asks casually. “Tom woulda called him Catfish?”

“Uh, sure.” I don’t but I won’t admit to that. I remember the name vaguely, but that’s all. Tom wasn’t big on the details of his life with me.

“You probably saw him at the wake last,” Benny adds.

Even if it hadn’t been four years ago since I last saw him, all I can remember of Tom’s funeral is a procession of strangers and the continual vibration of my work phone as I stood in a strange graveyard. That whole day was a stark reminder of the distance between us, that my own blood was a ghost to me even when he was alive. It bought me Molly, Tess and Will though.

Frankie walks in. He’s a little older than Benny but younger than Tom was. He’s all dark eyes and curls peeking out through a battered baseball cap; softly tanned skin and that smile … that smile is something. If he could bottle that up and sell it, I’m pretty sure he’d find a captive market.

“Frankie, you remember Daisy, right? She’s moved here,” Benny says. “She’s starting a coffee van.”

“Uh - yeah.” Frankie has no clue who I am, but his efforts to conceal that are admirable. “Now you mention it, Will might have said something about that. You’re uh, staying with Molly for now, right? You were in Boston before?” I nod, wondering what Will has exactly said to Frankie about my move. “A coffee van?”

“Eventually,” I add nervously, “It’s a whole process. So, I’m actually just temping for now while I get things sorted.” I have no idea why I’ve told him that, why I still want to introduce myself based on my career, on my outward accomplishments. I’m almost surprised I haven't tried to find an old business card in my pocket or referred him to my LinkedIn profile where it neatly lists all my employable skills and experience.

 Daisy is highly skilled in project management, board engagement, data analysis  and most of all completely falling apart all of the time, but she makes a mean slide deck. Plus, guess what, she’s open to work!

“Oh, right, cool.”

“Frankie works for the fire department. He’s a firefighter pilot now,” Benny says. “Out here making me look bad.”

“Aw, I keep telling you don’t need my job to do that, Benny.”

Benny laughs heartily and throws a cushion at Frankie who catches it with ease and a raised eyebrow.

“Well, that’s definitely cooler than paperwork and admin.”

“Not really,” Frankie says, “I mean, it’s not really cool if you know what I mean.”

“Oh,” you say with a groan, “that might be the most dad joke I’ve heard.”

“It’s a classic though,” he replies lightly. “You got a soda, Benny?”

“Fridge. Wait, I just had a brilliant idea,” Benny suddenly interjects with a grin. “I mean, I’m a genius.”

“Oh yeah?” Frankie asks, one eyebrow quirking up. “About soda?”

“No, no, no. You need a roommate, right?”

“Yes?” Frankie replies slowly with the seasoned reluctance of someone who knows exactly what Benny’s brilliant ideas usually result in.

“Daze needs a room, you need a solid roommate, voila!” Benny makes a complicated hand gesture and smiles widely.

It seems too simple, too obvious but despite the terrible apartment earlier, my heart races as I wonder what if Benny’s onto something.

“Benny, I’m sure Daisy would -”

“How soon is it available?” I ask.

“Uh, immediately. My last roommate moved in with his boyfriend, which is great for him, but I’ve been struggling to find anyone suitable for it since then.”

“Suitable?” Immediately flashbacks of the weird Craigslist ads come back to me, please don’t say Frankie is going to say something odd. “What do you mean, suitable?” I really hope Frankie isn’t actually the weird shoe size guy from Craigslist.

“I have a kid who stays with me regularly. I need someone I can trust, someone safe to be around him, and someone who’s not going to be a …”

“Frankie wanted to mandate a background check,” Benny interrupts, before raising his hands at Frankie’s expression. “I said I got it! Perhaps, if you interrogated people less though ….”

“I’m not gonna apologise for prioritising my kid.”

“So, do I need a background check to apply then?”

“Nah,” Benny says, “you’re Tom’s sister, right Frankie?”

There’s a comforting weight to his words. The conviction in his voice, the simple answer that takes it for granted that maybe I’m not one of them, but I’m adjacent at least. It feels unfamiliar. I’ve never been Tom’s sister, not to Tom at least.

I feel as though I’m wearing someone else’s skin, another identity, and it’s alien but comforting. It’s an identity I never knew I could wear. One I never even knew was an option.

“You’re actually considering this then?” Frankie asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well, yeah. Benny’s heard all about my nightmare of an apartment hunt so far… unless, I mean. If you don’t want to then that’s fine.”

“Alright Tom’s sister,” Frankie begins with a soft smile.

“Daisy.”

“Daisy. “I’ll send you the info. let me know whether you’re still interested then. No pressure.” His voice is honey smooth, low and there’s something else.

His eyes.

They’re kind. Soulful even.

“I’m interested,” I say without thinking. “I’m definitely interested.”

Of course life isn’t as simple as just being interested in the apartment and one magically falling into my hands. Frankie texts me the information which is sadly towards the top end of my truly pitiful budget but includes a double room, furnishings and the apartment has a balcony which in itself is a big reason enough to say yes. I instantly conjure up a romantic image of me sipping from a steaming mug of coffee in the mornings, watching the sunrise.

It’s farcical. I hate the sunrise, or at least being up at that time. I’m not a morning person at the best of times. 

Frankie says there’s a beach view from the balcony though … if you squint, lean one arm and twist at a very precise angle. It’s something he has advised he doesn’t recommend without exceptional health insurance though so that’s definitely off the table for now. He mentioned it’s close enough that the landlord said it was a coastal view but it’s clearly not really.

Texting him feels so easy - there’s a lightness to the conversation, even as we talk about something as serious as becoming roommates. It’s why I’ve agreed to this - the next step and the one that is now filling me with dread.

The coffee shop we decided to meet at is halfway between his place and Molly’s. I haven’t been here before but I mentally take notes of the roast, of the general ambience. The brownies look amazing - the perfect combination of a fudgy middles and the solid crackly top that immediately calls to me.

It’s a neutral space though, one where we can finally make a decision of am I becoming Frankie’s roommate or not.

I think I want to.

I really can’t take another week of Craigslist -especially after watching that true crime documentary last night.

I twist the empty sugar packet into a knot, only looking up as the doorbell chimes. I see Frankie immediately.

He’s wearing a baseball cap, dark hair curling out from underneath and the Florida FD hoodie he’s wearing looks particularly well worn, comfortable. I can almost imagine how it smells.

No. No. This is a roommate negotiation.

“Hey,” Frankie says as I stand up to greet him. I immediately panic - is this a hug situation, that feels too familiar, but a handshake feels like an awkward callback to my corporate days. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

“Oh, you already ordered?” Frankie asks.

“Yeah, sorry, I got here a bit early. Overestimated the traffic. I haven’t been here long.” Frankie looks at my almost empty mug of coffee, cocking one eyebrow.

“No worries. Do you mind if I grab a drink though? Want another?”

“Oh no, I’m good, thanks.”

“Okay.”

He walks over to the counter and I sit down and watch him carefully. This is a test really, an opportunity to try and work out his personality further. Does he talk to the barista? Is he cold or insufferable? Is he rude? These are all qualities I should be able quickly establish in just a few moments. Mum always taught me to notice these things on a date, to tease out those basics in the early days. Not that it’s foolproof. Not always at least.

Frankie seems. pleasant though, laughing with the barista but there’s almost a shyness about him. I don’t get it. From how Benny described him - a pilot, a firefighter pilot no less, I would have expected him to be as extroverted as Benny.

Frankie’s a surprise though. There’s a quietness to him, a slow and careful evaluation in each glance, in how he takes in the cafe around us as he sits opposite me. He’s assessing everything too and it occurs to me that as much as I’ve set this meeting up to work out if I can live with him, he’s doing the exact same thing.

The people pleaser in me instantly calls to attention, ready to perform and be perfect, be liked. To succeed. Automatically I straighten my posture, try and remember my very best table manners. I prepare to perform.

“What’s your poison?” I ask, which is a phrase I never use and an immediate sign I need to shift out of performance mode.

“Just an Americano.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t approve?”

“no, I guess it’s fine. I mean, I would personally recommend a pour-over and filter coffee than a watered down espresso. Something like a V60 or a -”

“I see what Benny meant about the coffee truck.”

“I’m not judging!”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, only judging a tiny bit. Mostly I’m rambling. I’m just - I’ve never got the watered down espresso thing.”

“It’s got two extra shots in if that helps,” he confides with a smirk, “I was on shift yesterday.”

“Oh, we could have arranged this for later -”

“It’s fine. The shift wasn’t too bad, even got a few hours sleep!” Frankie empties sugar into his coffee and smiles up at me.

“How did you end up in the FD then? I don’t – I don’t remember it from before.”

Frankie pauses, twisting the empty sugar packet in his hands. The silence holds just long enough I worry I need to change the conversation before he speaks. “A couple of years ago I needed a change. It’s been good, much better than commercial helicopter flights for rich people.”

“Making a difference?”

“Trying to.” A ghost passes over his eyes. I immediately realise the link - Tom. His death. Was that the trigger for Frankie joining the fire department?

“Anyway, the apartment -” Frankie starts, reaching for his phone, “I took some new photos this morning.”

His wallpaper is him with a small boy. His son. I take in the wide toothy smile on his photo, the bright shine in his eyes and the same features I can see in Frankie, accompanied by a head full of brown curls.

“Felix,” Frankie says, a soft smile on his face.

“He looks like you.”

“Poor kid.”

“No, I mean - uh, how old is he?”

“Four and a half. He stays with me on alternate weekends, if I’m off shift, and sometimes in the week if his mom’s working late or something. A lot of it depends on my work patterns but that’s the general rule of thumb.” He wrings his hands together and I wonder what the story is there.

I have limited experience with children to say the least.

I’ve reached that point where half of my friends are parents, sharing photo after photo on their social media and speaking a whole new language. In contrast, the rest of my friends appear still mentally stuck in their early twenties party mindset. I’ve never been sure where I fit in with that; I’m definitely not a huge partier, but that sort of responsibility and commitment has filled me with anxiety. Maybe it’s my choice in friendships, in love.

I try not to think about it too much, the friendships left to dust over, the dates I was too scared to go on. I threw myself into my work instead because it felt safer somehow. I defined myself by my career and made that the only metric that matter.  I poured all of myself into the corporate world for all those years and it turns out I was naive. So naive. I actually thought they cared about me.

It’s hilarious in hindsight. Now I’m in Florida without even a leaving card to commend the efforts I put in. I’m a barely remembered spectre in the place I once thought I was indispensable in. A shameful secret swept under the rug. A never repeated name.

I can’t go back to that world again.

“Are you okay?” Frankie asks, concern creasing his brow. Great, five minutes into talking about becoming roommates and he already clearly thinks I’m disturbed.

“I’m fine, sorry, must have drifted away for a second.”

“Happens to us all,” he says lightly. “So, is that a problem?” Frankie folds his arms and I get the clear sense that he’s annoyed, that I’ve missed an important cue somewhere.

“Is what a problem?” I ask.

“Felix staying at the apartment, because sorry but it’s a non-negotiable”

“No, not at all. No, I just … I drifted away, like I said.”

“Right.”

Great, this is the first apartment that feels reasonable, and Frankie seems like a nice person and I’m wrecking it. Somehow at best, I’m managing to come across as scatty and someone who doesn’t listen, and a child hater at worst.

I need to get out of Molly’s. I need to make Florida work for me.

“I do that sometimes,” I say quietly, “It doesn’t mean I’m not listening, or anything. It’s just … it’s just something that happens. I don’t have a problem at all with Felix or …. it’s your home, Frankie.”

He pauses. “If you take the room, it’s yours too though.”

“And I get why you’re being careful about who takes the room because of that. Look, I can’t promise I won’t secretly judge your coffee choices, or leave coffee grounds everywhere, or watch really terrible TV from time to time, but I …”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

“You do?”

“I do.” Frankie smiles. “So, you’re still interested in the room then? You really wanna do this? I thought Benny might be putting you up to this and I won’t be offended if you don’t want to live with some random guy.”

“Benny keeps reminding me you’re not though, are you?”

Frankie shrugs and looks away, something flashing over his eyes briefly that feels a little haunted.

Since moving back to Florida, I’ve realised that, at least for Benny and Will, Tom’s death is still an open wound even now. It makes me feel worse sometimes because Will was so kind to me after the funeral, so keen to ensure I knew they’d be there if I needed them, that I could rely on them in Tom’s absence and I didn’t know how to say I’d never been able to rely on Tom. My brother spent his life a half-stranger to me and I feel like a fraud pretending we were real siblings.  In five and a half years, the Millers and my brother’s ex-wife have been more of a family to me than Tom ever was.

“It’s okay,” Frankie says, “I’m sure you’ve got far better roommate options.”

“I actually really don’t. One guy asked for foot pics, and these women kind of judged me because I wasn’t corporate enough anymore, so I don’t have a wealth of better options.”

Frankie frowns slightly.

“It’s a brutal market. And your place looks… nice and you seem like you wouldn’t ask for -”

“Some guy really asked for that?”

“I blocked him, it’s fine. It’s the internet, Frankie.”

“Sometimes I fucking hate that thing.”

“Yeah, but I like being able to shop in my pyjamas.”

Frankie laughs. “Okay, fair point. So, Daisy, do you want the room? ‘Cause if you do, it’s yours.”

My heart races. The room is mine? It’s not just that I’ll be escaping from feeling like a perennial thorn in Molly’s life, but it’s a beginning. Finally I have the chance to make something here, to be Daisy 2.0 and leave the corporate burnt out husk of my old self in the rearview mirror.

“You don’t have some weird neighbour who plays the bagpipes at 3am?”

“No, I don’t have one of those. It’s a normal building.”

“Good, just wanted to check. Okay then, yeah, I think I do. Want the room that is.”

“Great. I’ll get the agreement emailed over to you and we’ll go from there.”

“This is going to be good”

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

I think this might be the handshake part.

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[grimalkint00th]

*gulp*

[zriasstuff]

Them asking you to be their Valentine

The Slytherin Boys x reader (just in time for Valentine’s Day :))

Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts always comes with a lavish ball, so go ahead and choose the white knight of your liking to accompany you :)

Mattheo Riddle:

Mattheo’s way of asking you to be his Valentine for the ball was very straightforward, yet effective. The second after the announcement dropped, he went to find you in the schoolyard, and approached you in front of all your friends.

“Hey, wait up!”, he’d shout to get your attention, already sounding determined.

“What do you say, you and me at the ball?”, he spoke out his confession, short and sweet.

Cheekily, he adds “I think you and I would be the best looking couple at the ball”. You notice him shyly tucking his head down as he said that, but he still sounded self assured.

Everyone was patiently waiting for your reaction, and you noticed how all your friends started gushing over him. Mattheo seemed unfazed by everyone else and only had eyes for you.

Even though you had only talked to him a few times in the past, you noticed that there was this easy-going chemistry between you two.

His profession certainly came as a surprise, but you liked guys who were direct. Besides, he struck you as a bit of a player too, who seemed to be used to asking girls out.

“Sure, I’d love to go with you”, you chuckle out, knowing you’d have a lot of fun with him.

He slickly throws you an air kiss, grinning from ear to ear, before all his friends start jumping on him to celebrate his win.

Tom Riddle (extremely delusional):

Tom definitely wasn’t one for the romantics, in fact he was strictly against the idea of a Valentine’s Day ball.

What he told you, when you asked him if he had a date already was:

“The ball is just an excuse for undisciplined students to commit shameful acts such as drinking alcohol and doing magical substances, when they should really be focusing on their education instead, which they are in desperate need of”

“I see, so you don’t have a date”, you sum it up for him.

Truthfully, you only asked Tom that question because you started catching feelings for him, and you wanted to know if you had a clear shot.

But clearly, he wasn’t interested at the moment.

He seemed to be carefully analyzing your reaction to his statement. Seconds later, he indifferently states “You want me to ask you out, don’t you”

You, shocked at first, embarrassingly nod afterwards. Full of curiosity, you wondered how he had managed to read you so accurately.

“Fine, to save myself from a week of listening to your heartbreak or potential soulmate, I am going to do you the favor of accompanying you to the ball. I am only doing this to save myself.”, he explains elaborately, which earns him an eye roll of yours.

You still wanted him to actually ask you and mean it, but for Tom Riddle, this was a big gesture already. Besides, you were aware from the beginning that you would have to deal with his peculiarities.

“On the day, be ready at 8pm sharp, and don’t you dare get drunk or high”, he lays down his conditions. Even if he wouldn’t say it, you knew that deep down he cared, otherwise he would’ve never even indulged in this.

Theodore Nott:

Theodore had found himself in a bit of a slump. Due to the excessive quidditch training, he didn’t have a date for the ball yet, which would be in 1 day exactly.

Subconsciously he fully believed that he'd find a date, no matter what time it was, which is why he took his sweet sweet time.

But now, with growing desperation, he ran around, asking out every girl he saw. And each time, the girl rejected him because they already had a date.

As he grew more and more frustrated, he asked you for the second time again, to be his date. You already told him that you had plans with a guy from Gryffindor, which he ridiculed.

“Come on, please ditch him for me?”, he’d repeatedly ask you with puppy eyes.

“Please just do me this favor, I don’t want to be the only guy in our friend group to not have a date.

You’d tell him that it was his own fault, but eventually you felt a bit bad for him. And you were indeed good friends, so maybe you could do him a favor. It wasn’t like the Gryffindor boy and you were in love. Surely he’d get over it…

“Fine, I’ll go, but you owe me”, you finally agreed. Truthfully, you found Theo much more attractive and charming anyway.

You had only agreed to the Gryffindor boy in the first place because you were afraid that no one besides him would ask you out anymore if you said no.

Theo, full of excitement and relief, cupped your face and kissed your forehead as a thanks when you agreed to be his date.

“I promise you, you won’t regret it”, were his last words before leaving you alone.

Blaise Zabini:

You only had one more tedious potions class of Snape's to go through, before you could finally enjoy the rest of your day.

As the clock ticked, you stared down on your blank parchment paper, counting the minutes to go.

Catching you off guard, you feel Blaise’s finger lightly tapping your arm. You needed a second to get conscious of the situation because you had zoned out.

He slides a small, blank piece of parchment paper towards you and points his head down, signaling you to turn it around.

When you do, your mood immediately lifts and you begin blushing. It was kind of childish, like something you’d do in year 1 or 2, but it was also cute.

The paper was filled with the classic “will you be my Valentine��, and there were three boxes to cross. The three being “yes”, “no”, and “maybe”.

Blaise observes your reaction delightfully, waiting for you to tick a box. As this was the highlight of your day, you decide to give the guy a chance and tick “yes”.

When class ended, Blaise waited for you to pack up and proposed a hang out at astronomy tower with you, which you agreed to with pleasure.

Enzo Berkshire:

It was a Sunday, exactly one week before the ball, and all the Hogwarts students were enjoying their time in Hogsmeade.

On this peculiar day, your seating partner Enzo from Transfiguration asked you to go to Madam Puddifoot's Café with him. The location was definitely romantic, and you already suspected where this might be going.

But—you didn’t want to get your hopes too high yet. Enzo was unquestionably a cute guy though.

During your coffee date, he didn’t drop any hints or said anything suggestive. You just talked, gossiped, and joked around, and you figured he’d be cool as a friend too.

Though nearing the end, the waiter came to your table with a small buttercream cake.

You shot a confused glance at Enzo, and he seemed clueless.

“I don’t believe we ordered that”, you tell the waiter, but he insists and puts the cake in front of you. After the waiter leaves, you keep eye contact with Enzo, but he tells you to eat the cake.

Still dazzled, you comply and look down, seeing that…

“Will you be my Valentine”, was written on the cake in cursive font with pink buttercream. Overcome by joy, you couldn’t be happier that your suspicions from the beginning were right.

“So what’s your answer”, he asks eagerly, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Of course I will, this was so sweet”

You believed that no girl could’ve said no to this.

Draco Malfoy:

You and Draco never slacked off on your prefect duties, which also included the nightly walks around school, to ensure that every student has gone to bed.

It is the perfect time to talk after a long day, and to exercise your power of course, but mainly the walks had brought you two very close, and you exchanged plenty of secrets already.

Although he could be a bit of an asshole, which you also told him, you still saw that he had a caring, more hurt side to him.

A week before the ball, he suggested a different route than the one you usually took.

He told you to close your eyes as you were walking, and led you by your hand. Innerly, he was as nervous and jittery as one could get, and couldn’t wait to see the reaction on your face.

When you got to the mysterious destination, he told you to open your eyes

As soon as you opened them, you saw the room of requirements, decorated with pink and red flowers, hundreds of candles, and a banner reading “will you be my valentine”.

It had been Draco’s plan for weeks, and he was so glad that he pulled it off.

He also made sure that you wouldn’t get a date, before he asked you out, which included cursing guys who got close to you.

“Oh my, yes of course Draco, I can’t believe you did this”, you’d say full of joy.

“You just made me the happiest guy in this school”, he’d reply and you knew it was true.

Immediately he brings you closer to kiss you, and you spend the rest of the night cuddling inside the room of requirements (insert the scene of Dean and Rory cuddling in GG if yk what I mean).

[freeuselandonorris]

as a pretty much complete stranger to kinks I ask this with genuine and open curiosity: what is it with piss? like what's that kink all about? admittedly I've been wondering about it and I consider you my local expert on the matter (plus your writing has compelled me to enjoy things I never thought I'd dare to touch so I trust your judgement). is it like a marking/possessiveness thing? or a "that's Me" sort of idea? or something else entirely? I'd like to hear what appeals to you about it if you don't mind indulging me

omg anon if i don’t MIND! this is my dream ask lmao especially on a night where i need a good distraction ty 🙏

below the cut for anyone who followed me for the fanart and light romcom fic and not the hard kink 😭

okay SO. i think piss is one of those weird kinks where there’s a lot of different sub-kinks to it and a lot of motivations for it — like, there’s being pissed on/pissing on someone, there’s drinking it (incl forced drinking) which can also have sub-kinks like some people only like to drink “from the source” whereas others like it from glasses or funnels or bottles or don’t care at all. then you have wetting (pissing yourself, basically), which could be just doing it wherever, in certain clothes, in semi-public. there’s omorashi/desperation, some people really get off on the pain of being desperate and holding for hours. plus there’s stuff like diaper play which is very linked to the ‘little’ space and isn’t something i fuck w personally so i can’t comment on that. but basically what i’m saying is there’s no one motivation for people to be into it and different types of piss play will have different appeals, even to the same person.

personally i am generally pro most kinds piss but my real kink is wetting, specifically while fully-dressed and preferably in pale clothes so the wet patch shows up. that’s something i developed an interest in super early — i can remember being a kid and taking the opportunity to piss through my swimsuit after going to the pool lmao. i think the appeal there is the inherent wrongness of it; it’s very linked to shame, humiliation, degradation and also there’s a lot in there about doing things that are forbidden and go against social conditioning. it’s an insanely trippy feeling to do it in front of someone in particular, personally it’s honestly comparable to drugs in how much of an endorphin kick it gives me.

i do also love pissing on/being pissed on though! and that’s def more what you were mentioning about a sense of possessiveness, although for me it’s more linked again to humiliation, particularly when i’m bottoming for it. i’m a huge fan of bodily fluid play in general and there’s a lot in there about feeling marked, about being a receptacle for someone’s waste fluids, about being objectified — one of the hottest piss scenes i’ve ever experienced was a cnc scene where i had a pillowcase taped over my head and then that got pissed on without warning (we had this kind of play pre negotiated!) and there was something about the combination of being made ‘faceless’ and then that happening to me out of the blue 😵‍💫 there’s a kind of devotional aspect to it, like yes i WILL get on my knees and willingly cover myself in your piss because i adore every aspect of you!

andddd finally there’s just the sensory aspect of it! piss is hot and wet and that can feel really good on your skin when you’re turned on 🤷 and honestly if the person you’re drinking from is well hydrated it doesn’t taste or smell too bad, it’s just kinda salty and a bit umami… it kinda reminds me of miso soup at times lmao. if they’re not hydrated or they’ve had a lot of coffee/beer it can be a bit intense and honestly i have gagged and spat it out sometimes! but that’s kinda hot to me too 🤷

whew that was fun lmao. sometimes i feel like i should start a specific blog for this stuff bc i LOVE talking about it! ask me more kink stuff pls!! anyway anon i hope this kinda explained the appeal to you a bit, ty for the respectful and open minded q 🫡

[leaderoffestivals]

(Lookback) The Heartbeat of the Sea: Abyss Chapter 1

Kanata: … … Mikejima—  You are not he, are you? Your scent is different— *Lick*—Yes, and your taste is different, too. Souma: HYAAAAAAH—?!

Season: Winter (In the past) Author: Akira Characters: Kanzaki Souma, Shinkai Kanata, Mikejima Madara

<Thirteen years before ES was founded. At a funeral hall somewhere in Tokyo.>

Souma: I have been granted freeeedom~!

(Now then, what should I do? Think carefully, Souma! There remains but a half-hour of this precious free time left to me! That’s, uhhh, about thirty minutes, more or less!

I must use this time wisely and do… Something! Anything at all! It would be such a waste, otherwise!)

Souma: … … However, I am feeling rather famished at the moment.

I suspect my mealtime may have slipped my esteemed Father’s mind. 

(Uuu. What should I do? It is impossible to do battle on an empty stomach.

My esteemed Mother is usually the one who prepares my meals... However, she is due to give birth to my dear little brother soon.

She is finding it difficult to move about due to her advanced state of pregnancy. That is why there was no helping it. She could not undertake the long journey here, burdened as she was by her increased weight—

—even though this funeral ceremony is for an exceedingly august personage, one whom our household cannot possibly disregard. 

That is right. It seems someone has passed away. 

That person seems to be someone who is of very great importance to us, a highly esteemed individual. 

Oh no! Will I be scolded for using the word “person” when referring to them?

That person… seemed to be like God.)

Souma: (... … But even so, a funeral for God? Can God die as well? Hm~~?

Well, I suppose that when it is time for one to die, they will indeed pass away! Father and Mother would never speak untruths after all!)

Souma: Uuu… Pondering so hard has made me hungrier. I am famished. Even the great Regent (1) could not have anticipated I would be suffering the miserable prospect of starvation in bountiful modern-day Japan…

(Perhaps I could ask Father to prepare a meal for me… … However, he seems to have his hands full, and he is always saying that men do not belong in the kitchen. 

Umu. In that case, it seems I have no choice but to seek out a meal myself. 

If I search, there ought to be insects or other creatures around which can serve as sustenance somewhere. 

Huh? But, wait. On closer inspection, there is an array of food laid out all about me.   

Am I hallucinating this?

I do not fully comprehend, but this must be Heaven’s blessing too! In other words, uhhh, God must be granting me a divine favour! Yes!

I shall accept with gratitude! 

… … Am I allowed to eat these without permission, though? Will anyone be angered? And yet, with no one around, I cannot seek permission from anyone either?

Besides—Ugh~—I am truly hungry!)

Souma: I humbly partake of this food!

*Chew, chew* Ug~ghh. The flavours are much too strong. The flavours of the meals Mother prepares are so much more refined than this… 

(Sound of footsteps) 

Souma: (Ah! Someone is approaching! This is bad, it would be disgraceful to be caught indulging in pilfered food! It is shameful conduct for the child of a samurai family!

I—I must hide. Under that desk, there seems to be a screen with which I can conceal myself… …

Make haste, Souma! Run for it! Yaaaa!)

Kanata: WAH—Oh?

Souma: … … … …!?

Kanata: Hm~? Hm~? Hm~?

Souma: … …? … …?

(EH? Ehhhh?! What? Who? An intruder~!

Who in the world is… this fellow? He has such a strange air about him—)

Kanata: Who is that, over there? Is it Mikejima?

Souma: (Huh? Eh? What is he saying? 

His voice has a peculiar resonance to it… … I cannot make the words out clearly… …)

Kanata: … … Mikejima— 

You are not he, are you? Your scent is different—

*Lick*—Yes, and your taste is different, too.

Souma: HYAAAAAAH—?! *What* are you doing, all of a sudden? Are you a demon—?

Kanata: Errrm. Who are you?

Souma: A-and who are you? What are you doing in a place like this? 

Kanata: Ohhh. Kanata is not doing anything at all. 

In a sense, what Kanata is doing is ‘nothing’. (2)

Souma: ? ? ?

Kanata: Do you not understand, mortal child? 

Is it so difficult to understand the words Kanata is saying? 

Souma: Eh? Ka—katana? No, what you said was “Kanata”, was it? And that means—?

Madara: POW! (Sound of a loud punch)——In the nick of time, Mikejima appears!

Souma: Gyaa--UGH—!

Madara: Whoo~oops! I punched his lights out in the heat of the moment, but, who is this guy? God, do you know who he is? 

Kanata: Kanata has not become God yet, that is why Kanata does not know anything. 

Mu—And besides that, you took such a long time to return, Mikejima. 

Madara: I’m sorryyy! I had a little trouble finding a place we could break in and enter by, that’s whyyy~

Souma: (Wh—who are they? These guys? They appear to be… children of my age and yet… …?

Oh no, this is bad. I was already light-headed from hunger earlier, and now the shock of being punched has made me even more dizzy… …

I am… losing… consciousness… …

... ... ... ...)

—————-To be continued——————-

Chapter 2

Translator’s Notes: 1) Souma says 太閤さま (Taikoo-sama) which means Imperial Regent and is commonly used to refer to Toyotomi Hideyoshi, a samurai who lived in 1537- 1598 and regarded as the second “Great Unifier” of Japan.

2) Kanata means that he is actively carrying out ‘the act of doing nothing at all’. 

[askganon]

Sir, you do not know me, nor I you really, but despite the fact that we clearly have major philosophical differences, I still find you highly respectable. I haven't spoken to you as of yet due to this, as I have doubted that I could find a topic that would lead somewhere of benefit that others have not already asked at length about. All this is quite a long winded way to state that, now that I've actually thought of a topic to broach, I am genuinely curious as to your thoughts and do not speak on a whim and hope you may give my ramble some thought as well.

On the topic of alcohol (and any other drug/intoxicant that you may partake in for that matter), I am curious, what exactly do you find pleasurable about any of it and why do you believe you find it pleasurable? I have always found the feeling of drunkenness to be mildly annoying at best and highly distressing at worst. The same traits that others describe as positive have always been hellish to me. For the physical sensations others have described have always sounded identical to my experiences of things such as "being in extreme pain" and "recovering from surgery", which even being slightly tipsy tends to resemble for me. As for the social aspects, many say they find it easier to socialize and that it makes one more open to things, but if you are intending to meet others, wouldn't it be better to know their personality for how it is outside of intoxication? And if one is simply looking to have a good experience, wouldn't it be better to seek one that can be more easily remembered? And being around drunken folk while sober has never been pleasant either, as I find it to be closer to babysitting than anything. To each their own as they say, but I simply find this baffling, so I'd like to hear your thoughts. Perhaps this is simply something that is not meant to be fully known or understood, but to leave questions unanswered is against my nature. After all, a sickly child who grows into a sickly adult is often left only with the company of books, and that has long since given me a hunger to know everything I can. One of my flaws I suppose

And as this is much longer than I intended, I shall try to leave that thought here, I think. For it is late and I am stressed, as tonight is the anniversary of my birthday so tomorrow I will be expected to take part in celebrations that, as my culture dictates, will most certainly involve drinking. I expect the social pressures to be nearly as miserable as the act itself would be. For listening to my late night rambling, which I hope does not bore you, sarqso

Your patience alone to seek out a topic as of yet discussed already elevates you above the common rabble in my eyes, disagreements or no. For this, I will indeed take my own time in answering your original thoughts and inquiries to the extent of my ability.

First, allow me to dissuade any possible worries you may hold regarding my character when it comes to alcohol. I do not ingest it for the sole purpose of wild intoxication.

Many who imbibe do so for this reason, but I am not among them. When I drink, and understand that it is not a daily occurrence, I do so to feel an ease from my burdens.

There are seven stages of intoxication, ranging from sobriety to death. When I drink, I take care to keep myself within the first two stages; sobriety and euphoria. I need no further intoxication than them, and will keep myself within those controllable levels.

In extreme cases, and very rare moments, I have found myself delving into the third stage; excitement. However, I do not enter this stage lightly, and it is almost always with a host of Sisters that I have allowed myself such indulgence.

I am also aware that alcohol effects everyone differently. What has been a pleasant experience for me might be incredibly uncomfortable for you. There is no shame in this, as I have been in the company of many Gerudo who have preferred sobriety to intoxication. Likewise, I have known some Gerudo... and Hylian Kings, who preferred a lifetime of intoxication to a moment of sobriety.

It can be a tool of momentary release if it is controlled, or an unbreakable chain of misery and dependency if it is not. As with everything, it is fine in moderation.

When it comes to alcohol: learn your limits, and respect them.

[thistle-and-thorn]

Your fanfics live rent free in my head. Your manner of prose has made me so much more picky now though. Any recommendations for fic authors or book authors with similar styles?

Oh this is a very generous ask! And I'm going to be completely indulgent and give you lots and lots of very long answers.

A couple disclaimers: I'm not sure that these are really similar to my style, but these are writers/works that I find very inspirational/educational. Also, I will read pretty much any ship so some of these may not be to your taste. Apologies in advance! And I will fully admit that I do not read much fanfiction, especially Sansa/Tyrion fanfiction anymore, because reading similar content makes it a lot harder for me to write stories myself. If there's any oversights, fully on me.

Fanfic--There are so many good fics and incredible writers and if you ever have specific requests for ships or fandoms, I will happily continue to scream about stories I love but I am going to use the opportunity to tell you about my mutuals. Because I think the appreciation and love you have for the people you meet because you connect with their writing is a very special thing.

@attonitos-gloria--nonny, I am guessing that you know Her. The Undisputed Queen of Sanrion. However, it is frankly a moral obligation that I have to shout her out. Getting to beta for her is one of the joys of my life and has just given me the deepest appreciation for her craft. She has the best and quickest mind for plot and world-building I've truly ever encountered and a natural instinct for pacing and dialogue. She knows how to turn a phrase and she understands the cycle of how a character feeds into plot to construct a theme and how to leverage it for maximum effect (TBT to the TKC-fueled Spiritual Crisis of 2020). But really, really, really what makes her one of my favorite writers and one of my most re-read writers, fanfic or traditionally published, is how much she loves the characters. Every work is an act of love and compassion, and you can tell.

@coffeeandorange--The thing that I am always left with when I am done reading a Coffee StoryTM is a sense of clarity. Like, this is work that cuts through a lot of the fandom B.S to get to the heart and muscle of the thing (whatever it may be). Here is where you're going to find the perfect intersection of ingenuity, originality, and just really good writing. I am really struggling with how to adequately describe the writing without feeling reductive, but the word that keeps coming to mind is clean. But what I think I really mean is that I always have the sense that the language, that the use of language, is precise because it knows what it's saying. It is simply the form that best embodies that clarity. I have such an appreciation for the contrasts that coffee allows you to sit with: the joyful tragedy in The Way Home, the gruff intimacy in The Cat-king; the beggar boy, and the sharp tenderness in Shame Will Not Hold Down Your Eyes. They are stories that never shy away from the knots and complications in canon and I really, really, really admire that. I love when someone trusts their reader to sit in life's penumbras and coffee does just that.

@charmtion--being mutuals with charmtion is like being mutuals with a celebrity. I genuinely feel like I rediscover words, like literal words (fluted! why don't i use the word fluted!), when I read her stories. When I first started sharing my writing, I would study her sentence construction and try to figure out how I could be Like That. Reading charm feels like stepping into a fantasia, whether it's American high school or Irish mob house or Westeros. But beyond just sheer style, there is such a deep, dark, tender core to charm's writing. Her ability to mine small moments to show you what grief and desire looks like is something that I really admire.

Books: These are books, old favorites or new, that have inspired things that I've written, or thought about while writing, or just made have that Oh My God To Share Stories is the Greatest Gift:

Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis: Possibly how Attonitos and I became friends? That's the lore I'm going with. This is heavy on the Christian theology, but can be enjoyed just as a damn good novel. Lewis has had a huge influence on my spiritual and moral life, and he is at his best here. A perfect psychological portrait of Psyche and the single best myth retelling/revisioning I've ever read.

Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan: I just read this and it is a total favorite of mine now. A writer who explores the complications of kindness, rather than the banality of evil. CK doesn't tell you a thing but uses the small details of everyday life to force your examination of your own morality.

The Queen's Thief series by Meghan Whalen Turner: I'm a parody of myself. But like. They're really good, okay???????????

Literally Any book by Hilary Mantel--Probably my favorite traditionally published writer. Her books are tough--my favorite are the Cromwell books--and the language is tough to get into. But when you finally are immersed, it's magic. She changed how I thought about how to write permanently.

The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter: This book is probably the one that has had the biggest, biggest influence on how I write. I can read her stories over and over and over again. Her use of language and image. Her eroticism. *chef's kiss*

Deathless by Cathrynne M. Valente-- This was rec'd to me by tumblr's arbiter of good taste and curator of beauty @palominojacoby. I wrote an unhinged essay about this book on my secret sideblog that explains my feelings more but in short: this book is how you use fairytales and sex, my friends. The political is the personal. Very personal.

Say Nothing by Patrick Radden Keefe--I read a lot of non-fiction. I have a massive ethical issue with the way he deals with the end of the book but the questions he raises about the moral wound is seriously influencing crows + locusts. Particularly the as-yet unpublished fourth installment.

[bookishfeylin]

What do you think about the whole “Tamlin was in love with the idea of Feyre” ?

I don’t really understand it tbh and I’d like to hear your thoughts.

Also here’s a kiss 😽 I hope you’re having a fantastic day.

Thank you love!

So I feel like I have to explain what that means first before fully debunking it. In short, THAT SIDE of the fandom feels that Tamlin loves a version of Feyre that wants to be coddled and taken care of and protected and provided for--aka a version of Feyre who no longer exists in ACOMAF--hence why he cannot stand and adjust to her change post-UTM when she suddenly wants a more adventurous life. Feyre herself thinks this in ACOMAF, mentioning that Tamlin being a provider+protector suited "who she was before" but not who she is now, which according to her is (one of the many reasons) why they were incompatible:

“I’m thinking that I was a lonely, hopeless person, and I might have fallen in love with the first thing that showed me a hint of kindness and safety. And I’m thinking maybe he knew that—maybe not actively, but maybe he wanted to be that person for someone. And maybe that worked for who I was before. Maybe it doesn’t work for who—what I am now.” (ACOMAF Chapter 15)

This idea, that Feyre just wants a soft life essentially where she can relax and not be burdened with being the caregiver and even be taken care of herself, where she can be given kindness and safety, is also alluded to in book one:

Sometimes I would even indulge in envisioning a day when my sisters were married and it was only me and Father, with enough food to go around, enough money to buy some paint, and enough time to put those colors and shapes down on paper or canvas or the cottage walls. (ACOTAR Chapter 1)

[Tamlin] came a step closer, as if forcibly leaving behind the dark, sad stain of what had happened to Lucien, and the starlight danced in his eyes as he said, “What would be enough to make you happy?” I blushed from my neck to the top of my head. “I—I don’t know.” It was true—I’d never given that sort of thing any thought beyond getting my sisters safely married off and having enough food for me and my father, and time to learn to paint. (ACOTAR Chapter 18)

[Tamlin] was quiet as we turned down another sun-drenched marble hallway, and I dared to look at him. I found him carefully studying me, his lips in a thin line. “Has anyone ever taken care of you?” he asked quietly. “No.” I’d long since stopped feeling sorry for myself about it. (ACOTAR Chapter 12)

So Feyre does want a quieter life where she can focus on herself rather than being busy caring for other people, and Tamlin feels pity for her that she can't get that life, indicating there is some basis for the fandom's idea. But there are several problems with this per canon itself, the first being that no, Feyre did not fall in love for the "first creature" who was kind to her. If that were true, then she would've fallen in love with Isaac Hale first, not Tamlin. The second reason is that this is not why Tamlin fell in love with Feyre? Like he explicitly did not fall for her because he saw a dainty feminine object he could protect and provide for. Aside from Feyre spending 90% of their romance wearing pants and plotting, scheming, and running around planting snares, stealing knives and shit... That's not why Tamlin falls for Feyre.

“I wonder if your family realizes it,” he murmured. “That everything you’ve done wasn’t about that promise to your mother, or for your sake, but for theirs.” I said nothing, not trusting my voice to keep my shame hidden. “I know—I know that when I said it earlier, it didn’t come out well, but I could help you write—” “Leave me alone,” I said. I was almost through the door when I ran into someone—into him. I stumbled back a step. I’d forgotten how fast he was. “I’m not insulting you.” His quiet voice made it all the worse. “I don’t need your help.” “Clearly not,” he said with a half smile. But the smile faded. “A human who can take down a faerie in a wolf’s skin, who ensnared the Suriel and killed two naga on her own…” He choked on a laugh, and shook his head. The firelight danced along his mask. “They’re fools. Fools for not seeing it." (ACOTAR Chapter 16)

“I never knew,” Tamlin said from behind me, “that humans were capable of …” He trailed off as I turned, the hand I’d put on my throat sliding down to my chest, where my heart roared with a fierce sort of joy and grief and overwhelming humility—humility before that magnificent art. (ACOTAR Chapter 19)

Tamlin is impressed by her overall badassery and her willingness to self-sacrifice per quote 1 and per quote 2 he loved her artistic soul. And most importantly:

He picked up the small painting of the frozen forest and examined it again. “I’ve had many lovers,” he admitted. “Females of noble birth, warriors, princesses …” Rage hit me, low and deep in the gut at the thought of them—rage at their titles, their undoubtedly good looks, at their closeness to him. “But they never understood. What it was like, what it is like, for me to care for my people, my lands. What scars are still there, what the bad days feel like.” That wrathful jealousy faded away like morning dew as he smiled at my painting. “This reminds me of it.” "Of what?" I breathed. He lowered the painting, looking right at me, right into me. "That I'm not alone." (ACOTAR Chapter 22)

He loves her because she also understands the burden of responsibility in a way few others do, that he's not alone in that feeling.

And we get this quote:

Faintly, echoing into my world of slumber, he spoke again, his breath caressing my ear. “You’re exactly as I dreamed you’d be, too.” Darkness swallowed everything. (ACOTAR Chapter 23)

I also have a lot of feelings about what that quote means because WE NEVER GET AN EXPLANATION FOR TAMLIN DREAMING ABOUT FEYRE. So apparently Feyre's aforementioned snare planting and knife stealing and scheming to escape and constantly disobeying things he asks her to do to stay safe and whatnot does not manage to dissuade Tamlin from finding her attractive! Not at all, actually, in fact she's ~the girl of his dreams~ And:

“I love you,” he whispered, and kissed my brow. “Thorns and all.” (ACOTAR Chapter 27)

Idk y'all I don't think "I love you thorns and all" means "I only love you if you fulfill my fantasies of being a perfect obedient housewife despite there being 0 evidence of you displaying any remotely housewife-like tendencies, least of all being obedient" but that's just me. That quote is... incredibly significant but I've seen the larger fandom mostly ignore it like they ignore the rest of book one.

I guess what I'm trying to say is: book 1 Feyre is cool and does some wild shit and Tamlin sees her doing wild shit and is like "yep. That's the one for me. My dream gal <3" and ignoring this to push forward a "Tamlin never loved the real Feyre" narrative ignores what Feyre was actually like when Tamlin fell in love with her in the first place and what they actually bonded over.

[pop-roxs]

{Referencing this post: } https://www.tumblr.com/blondeaxolotl/749991556821483520?source=share

I don't talk about this normally and i'm not sure if this is okay to message you about but... I'm kinda going through it rn :( Do you have any advice on what someone who's really spiralling should do? Forget every day, every hour is a new struggle and I just want to wither away. I think I might have to withdraw from exams and it's a big deal because my parents sacrificed so much to get me to this stage, and I really just can't do this anymore I feel like i'm slowly rotting on the inside.... Not to mention the shame of outing myself to the school faculty that yes, I am in fact more than a little cuckoo /j

(You don't have to answer if you don't want to, I know it's a hard topic to chat about. Have a nice day though, hopefully your week is going better than mine. Here are some flowers for your struggles 💐)

oh hello anon!!

i think the best thing you could do right now is just take time for yourself. the school year is very close to ending, and from what it seems, exam season isnt the stress that youre ready for. despite the fact that your parents sacrificed a lot to get you to that point, your health should always come before your academics. if your parents are good parents, theyd definitely understand.

confiding in your friends i think would help as well. if you dont have anyone to chat with, id be open to do so, in here or on discord (if thats an option). maybe try to pick up a new hobby or binge your favorite series, replay your favorite game... treating yourself to something indulgent would be nice. you for sure deserve it, after all.

distractions, in the heat of the moment, help. venting to a willing friend and receiving comfort/validation helps. i understand that this next part seems a bit cheesy or whatever, but maybe writing down daily affirmations to say verbally in the mirror could help as well? saying things to yourself in your head is something, but its not nearly as much as saying it out loud to your face is. it can be something simple or something specific.

i can definitely say that now that i know about you and your struggles, i would be sad to hear that you are gone. i dont know who you are, and ive probably never talked to you before, but that doesnt mean i dont care. my advice may be stupid or disorganized, and thats because im not really the best person to ask about these things, though i fully genuinely care about anyone and everyone who feels like this.

every time i hear about someone who had attempted suicide and failed, i hear them say that theyre glad they didnt go through with it, or theyre glad that it hadnt worked. not once have i heard the opposite. you have a future. a really, really good future. please dont throw it away.

[divorcedwife]

hi! i love your art SO MUCH and i check your blog like the morning newspaper to see if you’ve uploaded anything new (you always have and I LOVE IT!!! thank u for keeping us fed) anyway i was just wondering if you had any advice for actively creating so much? i used to draw all of the time but i find it so hard lately to make even one tiny thing, especially something that i like…..but when i look at your work and how much you create i am always so inspired! i hope this makes sense eeeek anyway have an amazing day and thank you for sharing your incredible work with us!!!!

thank youuuu thank you so much!!! ;___;

i totally get that, and it used to be my number one problem, creating at all. i remember being in art school surrounded by people who were always drawing, and me, i just couldn't, and i couldn't explain what made drawing so difficult for me

and i think what blocked me is that i was paralyzed by indecision - too afraid to waste my time making "bad art" to do anything, or the wrong type of art, art that' won't look good in my portfolio, art that's too silly and specific to me. so in the end i made nothing

what's really been helping me lately is that i have dramatically lowered my standards for myself. i sketch every idea i have, even if it's just putting down three lines, even if it's self-indulgent and silly. anything that excites me and makes me want to draw, i follow that excitement as far as it will take me. maybe that's a fully completely illustration, maybe just a sketch, or maybe somewhere in between

if the goal is to have fun and not making a masterpiece, i feel less pressure and i end up drawing more. and drawing more leads to drawing better! if you make 10 sketches and really pressure yourself to make them great, that's torture. if you draw 1000 sketches, some of them will turn out amazing

when i have ideas i sketch, and when im low on ideas, i have all these already made sketches to revisit, and as i draw i find new ideas! this avoids me having to face a blank canvas and desperately scratch around my brain for ideas. creativity does not like being scrutinized like a bug, it vanishes under pressure in my experience

i find that creativity can be a negative or a virtuous circle. not drawing leads to less ideas and more pressure to deliver something good which will keep someone not drawing. but if you find something that gets you excited enough to draw again and keep going, then you will get more ideas along the way. follow them! draw the same character 1000 times in a row. i tend to focus on mostly one of my characters at a time - i draw her, i think about her, so i want to draw her more, and so on. that's fine

if there's any part of drawing that you like more than others, maybe try leaning on that more, and remember you don't need to do anything you don't want to do. if doing lineart sucks, don't do that. if coloring makes you want to stop drawing, use black and white

but also, where i've also been very lucky is having people like you around! :-) having people respond and connect to my art with such enthusiasm and such kindness, it's incredible

genuinely i owe more to people online who like my art than anyone does to me for making it. i would probably still make art if i had no one to show it too (which is what i did in middle school lol), but it's very lonely. it's harder to create something if it feels like no one will care. and i've been there, i spent years on deviantart having zero followers and attention. so i think every artist needs supportive friends they can show their art to for encouragement

some people feel shame that they don't do art just for its sake, that they want followers and likes and all, so i just want to say it's normal to want that :-) like i do make my art for an audience, if it was just for myself, i'd look at it in my head

i hope any of that helps!! in conclusion, i think any kind of art is worth making. and it should be fun. i also hope this makes any sense - i have to go to work soon but i wanted to reply before that. and thank you again for your kind words!!!!! <33333333

[maryjanewagner]

I can do it

At my university, nothing is truly obligatory: no one checks your attendance, and no one forces you to write exams. You could, if you wished, skip every lecture and still take the exams, which is exactly what I did for my statistics exam. However, this freedom also allows for endless procrastination, which is also exactly what I indulged in over the past year.

I was quite active in two political student organizations and traveled through Europe. On one hand, I was lazy, and on the other, I eventually became insecure about my studies and exams. When not traveling, I struggled to wake up before noon, making it hard to participate in university events. Over time, I convinced myself that I was incompetent and unfit for university. My academic confidence plummeted, especially when it came to writing exams and papers. Ironically, when I did manage to attend seminars or tutorials, I often felt bored because I was usually the only one participating, which made me feel awkward and led me to skip classes even when I could have attended. This procrastination turned me into a student making no real progress, which only deepened my sense of failure.

When I lived in the US this year, I felt frustrated by my inability to proudly call myself a student of politics and law, simply because I was not actively participating in student life back home. This realization pushed me to change. Returning to Germany, with no friends and having distanced myself from those political groups, I was eager to show up, do the work, and fully participate in my classes.

And it worked rather well for the first month and a half... until my boyfriend, whom I had met in the US earlier this year, came to visit me here. When he arrived, we were on spring break, so we traveled around my state. But I let myself get too distracted. I overslept again, missed most of my courses and sports, and became self-conscious and unhappy once more. Then, I lost my new job, which felt like the final blow, confirming my fear that I couldn’t do it.

I had panic attacks before sleeping for several days two weeks ago. I was terrified that I couldn’t make it. I hadn’t shown up to uni for weeks and was convinced I wouldn’t be able to write the exams I couldn’t unregister from. My boyfriend had to calm me down and motivate me, convincing me that I could make it. I didn’t believe in myself, but I couldn’t bear the thought of wasting another semester. So, I sat down and studied, preparing the presentations and texts I needed to complete.

I caught myself. I reminded myself that there is nothing else I would rather be doing right now. I have everything I could wish for: studying politics and law, rowing, reading a lot, working at the theatre, and soon, at the cinema as well. I am physically healthy, have a wonderful boyfriend, and live with an elderly gentleman who brings me great joy. Most importantly, I have found my passion for university again.

So now, within 10 days, I have written three exams and given two presentations that I hadn’t even started studying for more than two weeks ago. And I believe I didn’t do badly. Especially in the statistics exam, I think I did quite well.

All this self-imposed shame and bullying over the last two months was pointless and completely unreasonable. Knowing this now makes me feel ashamed again. All the energy I put into shaming myself could have been used for reading and studying. My procrastination was rooted in overthinking and doubting my abilities.

What should I learn from this? I need to stop telling myself that I’m stupid. I should stop being afraid of failing and just do my best. In high school, my strength was believing in myself and not comparing myself to others. I need to reclaim that confidence.

Where did all my self-doubt come from? I believe social media played a significant role. It destroyed my life, wasted so much of my time, and led me to compare myself to others. When my Instagram was deactivated earlier this year, I was living my best life. When I stopped believing in myself, I re-downloaded it and fell back into mindless scrolling and comparing.

Now, having completed most of my exams and feeling proud to call myself a student of politics and law, I will deactivate it again. I’ve taken precautions to follow only those who inspire me and keep my feed clean. I believe I’m on a good track.

I have two exams left this week: the scientific methods II exam and the private law exam. The methods exam will be easy, but I am extremely afraid of the private law exam. I have five days left to study for private law, and three for methods. I will dedicate myself to studying in the coming days. James, the gentleman I live with, is away at physical therapy until Thursday, so my boyfriend and I have his spacious apartment to ourselves. I can just sit down and study without other responsibilities.

After next week, life will be easier. I will have to write three papers until, but I’ll have time until October. I’ll start my new job in a café and spend my summer working, reading, and writing. I’m looking forward to this. This week will be hard, but the promise of a better future keeps me going. In the best case, my boyfriend and I will go on a holiday together before his visa expires in mid-August.

[switchy-bastard]

Well, I finally broke down and made a horny blog. Welcome! It's nice to have you here. This is my pinned post, and I will probably edit it fairly often as this blog develops.

I guess let's get the rough part out of the way first.

Do not interact:

Minors- this is an 18+ blog. Please leave immediately.

Terfs- get the fuck out. You will be blocked.

If you would judge someone for anything outside of their control - like race, gender, orientation, sexuality, nationality, etc. - then you're an asshole, and I don't want to talk to you.

About me:

I'm amab, and I use he/him pronouns. If you're very nice to me, there are others I may tell you are okay.

I am bisexual, and I love all genders/genitalia. DMs are open for flirtation with other adults, so long as you understand that I'm not looking for a long-term monogamous partner at the moment. I'm also happy to talk academically about kink-related things.

I'm a top-leaning verse with an oral fixation.

Kinks and kinky preferences:

As my blog title says, I am a switch. I tend to default to submission online, since it's easier/more acceptable/less aggressive, but I do genuinely enjoy both.

Very much have a praise kink, both as a dom and as a sub. Love to be praised, and love to praise. Sometimes, it can be nice to mix in a little degradation, but only if we've agreed to it beforehand.

Bondage is lovely- I can think of very little more intimate than the act of tying someone up, or trusting them enough to be tied. Big into ropes, chains, cuffs, etc.

Hypnosis is cool- I've never been successfully put under, but I like it as a dom, and I like the concept as a sub.

I tend to prefer a gentle style of dominance for myself, but I can get rougher if you like- the trust involved in being asked for that is a huge turn on for me.

If I'm domming you, you can call me Sir, or Master. Please don't call me Daddy without asking first.

If you're domming me, I enjoy being a Good Boy.

Here are some graphics of my kinks (last updated 22 September 2024):

From https://bdsmtest.org

From https://goctionni.github.io/kinklist-v2/

Some elaboration on some of these results:

I'd be willing to wear heels for play only if we found them in my size- I have wide feet, which makes shoe shopping difficult, and I don't get enough out of cross-dressing myself to bother looking for them, but if that's your kink, I'll work to indulge you, as I have nothing against it.

Calling people Daddy/Mommy is hot. Taking it further, to the point of age regression or incest roleplay, is not my kink, but this is not a moral indictment against those who enjoy it. Live your freaky truth!

I'm fairly neutral about age gaps. I wouldn't seek out someone too much younger or older, but I'm open to adult conversations with other adults.

I will not be tickled. This is not open to negotiation.

I will not participate in cheating, even as roleplay. If you have a cuckold/cuckqueen fetish, this is not to shame you- it just isn't for me.

If you've made it this far, my asks (including anons if you're shy) and DMs are open. I hope you like it here!

I'm still figuring out my personal stance on polyamory/ethical non-monogamy. I'm certainly not looking for anything monogamous myself right now, but I've got some hang-ups from my upbringing that make it difficult to engage fully with the poly lifestyle. Patience is appreciated as I work through this. I'm usually down to have fun, though!

Claimed anons: 🦇, 😇 (maybe), 🪼

[heinzpilsner]

Remember how I said I see only two explanations behind Zuko's irrational jealousy? Well, it seems like I somehow managed to overlook screaming non-verbal aspect of Mai's behavior!

Ugh, non-verbal stuff, why do you do this to me

So, here's a remake of my previous "Smart and serious"™ analysis of the situation!

(Why am I so stupid at being smart? I wish I could be smart at being stupid instead.)

In short it goes like this: Zuko took Mai's annoyed facial expression after he made his antipathy towards Ruon-Jian clear as an evidence that she likes the other boy.

That's all. No spicy or dramatic deeply hidden messages.

My inner conspiracy theorist is devastated.

(Still... You can't prove something's nonexistence~)

But here goes bonus content to anyone interested!

I couldn't help but indulge myself in a long and boring psychology lecture character study that would explain how Zuko ended up in this situation in the first place - from a slightly different angle than before, that is.

I wanna talk about Zuko's personality settings in more detail - in particular, about his dependent self-worth.

Contrast between people with different types of such settings was greatly demonstrated by Zuko's and Iroh's juxtaposition in first two seasons, actually.

Iroh doesn't care whether other people respect him or not - because his self-worth is unconditionally high. He values himself no matter circumstances and opinions, so his ego doesn't need protection from negative external evaluations.

His self-esteem though is (mostly) adequate - which means it isn't fixed in a perpetually high position. It allows him to see situation clearly, accept his bad circumstances humbly and work with them efficiently. If he's currently forced to become a beggar - well, he's going to beg alright, it's not a big deal.

Zuko's self-worth, on the other hand, is heavily affected by other people's evaluations. It makes his ego extremely vulnerable, and he has to protect it - sometimes with the help of inadequately high self-esteem.

So, when he believes someone thinks poorly of him, he has to belittle them ("peasants") and/or attack them. When it's impossible because of the person's autority though (like in case of his father), he's forced to agree with their low judgment - which is extremely stressful and painful and triggers another type of psychological defenses anyway.

(I guess this is what Iroh really wanted to say with his "pride is a source of shame" speach. Well, he's a vise man, but he's not exactly a psychologist, you know.)

So, in "The Beach", Zuko couldn't just calmly accept the fact that two random dudes didn't want to see him on their party - he immediately took offense.

Even though the reasons behind the boys' reluctance to invite Zuko in particular could be numerous, actually. From most practical ("We don't want you to burn the house down") and flattering ("We don't want any other hot guys at our party") to the most subjective ("Your haircut is awful, my eyes are bleeding"!)

I couldn't help it, could I?

But Zuko's ego was battered enough by his life, apparently, so this possibility didn't even occure to him.

So, as a result, Zuko had to look down on Ruon-Jian's (Chan's as well) personality and intelligence. Basically, that's what his "He thinks he's so great" was about.

(It doesn't necessarily mean the boys are not idiots though - but Zuko simply didn't have enough data to come to such a conclusion.)

But even after using this method of protection, Zuko couldn't fully stiffle his insecurities and self-doubt - because he had reasons (both right and wrong) to doubt himself.

(Especially since it was occuring on the background of the more general inner conflict: Zuko's father deems him worthy now, but the other autority of his life doesn't even want to speak with him. So Zuko's self-worth constantly jumps from heights to lows and he feels extremely confused and destabilized.)

And in such a situation, Zuko needed to get assurance from a person who was supposed to value him high.

Basically, his "What do you think about [Ruon-Jian]?" question towards Mai can be translated as: "Please, tell me what I'm right and he's an idiot, because otherwise I can't be sure in my own worth."

But Mai was not interested in encouraging Zuko's hostility towards other guys.

She reacted at Zuko's question with annoyance and answered honestly: she doesn't think anything about Ruon-Jian.

But Zuko didn't realize that his hostility looked inadequate to people who didn't see the situation from his ego's cocoon.

So he readed Mai's annoyance as her defense of Ruon-Jian.

And why would Mai defend someone unless she liked him?

The mystery is solved! What a great detective you are, Zuko!

Not as great as me though with all my ridiculous conspiracy theories induced by lack of attention

Something like this, I guess.

Thanks for your attention?

I ignore all notifications.

(Hmm, I think before working on next 'overanalysing Maiko' parts I'll have to analyze Mai's demeanor in book 2 more thoroughly. So it will take some time. ... Goddamit, I don't even like her! How on earth I ended up in this situation?

Oh yeah, I just wanted to make a "little psychological exercise". Lol.)

[sorcerous-caress]

Solllll :( :( :( :( :( I think they need like. 30 more hugs :( Them plus Lae’zel was really cute though.,,,,, a red dragon descendant and a githyanki huehue love how they’d offer to become a mindflayer instead of her ;-; Also yeah Minthara and Halsin would be great 👀👀 + any other characters you want to write for .!! I’m assuming they bond with Minthara about bullying Gale early on if nothing else

Getting asks about Sol give me such a serotonin boost that I save answering them for the days I'm not feeling well so I can indulge myself <33333 I don't wanna consume them all in one day, they're as precious as candy.

And I wrote the Halsin, Minthara and other companions here!

So how about instead, here is how Sol would react to receiving a hug from the companions + Durge + Tav. Assuming everything happens in act 3.

Shadowheart

By that time they feel guilty for the way they treated her in act 1, they watch her walk towards them and wonder if she's going to slap them after their half-assed apology the other day that Tav delivered to Shadowheart without their permission.

Whatever. She has a right to, they tell themselves. It's nothing, they've felt worse and if it will make her feel better then so be it. So they don't move and stand waiting for her, holding her gaze without faltering.

They're ready for the pain but instead are met with her warm embrace. With her hands wrapping around them and cradling their back, with her face nuzzling between their neck and shoulders. Her armour plates feel cold against their exposed skin.

They hated how good sharrans were at reading others emotions, they hated how her hug tightened around them when she felt the lump stuck in their throat.

They want to say it, I'm sorry. It burns and keeps slipping from their tongue, it scorches them to admit it. It's weakness. Their arms stay still on their side, clenching and unclenching their sharp fingers into fists.

The battle of the absolute that awaits them right around the corner crosses their mind, they might very well die as if they've never lived to begin with.

Is this really what they want to be their legacy?

"I am...deeply sorry for-" they lift their hand, entangling their fingers in Shadowheart's hair and pushing her face further into their neck, making sure she cannot lift her head to see the glossiness in their eyes or tremble of their lips, "for everything."

They still can't hug her back, they don't feel like they deserve to.

"I know." Shadowheart says. She eventually pulls back, Sol turned their face away from her in shame by that point.

.

Wyll

The watch the reunion between him and his father with bitterness, green envy burning through their brown eyes.

They hold themselves back, they don't say anything, don't ruin this beautiful moment just because of their selfish desires. They have a half-mind to know when they should shut up.

Wyll doesn't. As he calls out to them to come here, join the hug. Sol thinks he must have lost his mind or something.

They give him that look of "dude this is your moment, enjoy it and let me be" but he's persistent. And apparently the apple didn't fall far from their tree for his father is approving of this.

Of Sol.

Okay, now they're fully embarrassed. There is no fucking way he thinks that they'll just waltz up to a three people hug in front of the whole camp as if they don't have a reputation to uphold.

But they were raised on those strick"never disobey your parents and elders" rules and fuck does that training kick in when Wyll's father calls over to them to come. Damn you generational trauma.

There is an awkward clacking of heels as they walk over to the father and son duo, with the reluctance of a dog being lead to a bathtub.

When Wyll eventually has to make the first move and pull them into a hug, Sol closes their eyes and stand there like 🧍.

This is so disgustingly sweet and wholesome they think they're going to throw up. Wyll shouldn't be sharing his happiness with them, he shouldn't be sharing his father and he shouldn't be sharing this hug. He more than earned all of them for everything he went through.

But he is...and Sol is shown love. Shown understanding from Wyll who knows what's it like to see others hug their parents when yours aren't around for you.

His father is a surprisingly understanding man, he treats Sol with kindness and not like the intruder they feel they are. Sol gains respect for him because of that, they still haven't forgiven him for what he did to Wyll but...the fact he is willing to atone for his mistakes and listen to sense is not something they ever expected.

Lae'zel

Honestly they're always happy to see Lae'zel and especially in act 3. Her presence always brings good fortune and news like "found some guys we gotta kill" or "Let's fight to the death again" ah her activities are always so thoughtful and fun.

Sol absolutely loves how they don't need to hold back around her, how no matter how much they burn her and engulf her in flames, she will still rise up to swing her big sword at them. Even when one of them goes too far, the other never holds a grudge and actually compliments them on their strength.

The way she talks about red dragons sometimes as if they're some majestic creatures. The way she doesn't condem their selfish or greedy nature, how she sees beauty in their absolute grace.

Sol tried to return the favour one time but didn't know how to, they asked Astarion and he suggested frogs so they tried talking to Lae'zel about how beautiful frogs are but it seemed to fly over her head. The next time it was her turn to cook, she made a special frogs dish for Sol to eat.

They munched on brunt frogs legs wondering if it might be a bad idea to trust Astarion. Or if they need to find and kill a dragon to feed to Lae'zel?

This whole situation is what resulted in the hug, she was talking to them about red dragons again one day when they commented how they actually smell like them too.

Lae'zel got quiet, observing them with cautious eyes before immediately lunging at them. She had her tiny nose pressed against their pulse point and all of her body wrapped around them in a very intimate hug.

"Hmm yes, I see that you were telling the truth." Lae'zel murmurs, still obserbed in their lineage and not aware od the fact Sol is too focused on the hug to register her words.

This is definitely one of the top ten best moments of their life, even better than that one time as a kid when their first ever scale started growing out of their face.

Sol wraps their arms around her, the two idiots stay like this for a while, hugging and talking about dragons and githyanki.

Gale

If Gale offers it they'll immediately reject it, so it has to happen by surprise or accident.

You see, they were just normally minding their own business around their side of the room when Gale came by, said how he has been thinking about something and he realised why Sol is so mean to him.

"I've concluded it must be your rough upbringing which have resulted in your misplaced mistrust in others." He spoke with such confidence and consideration, a sympathetic look in his puppy brown eyes. "

"So?" They replied.

"Soooo...I'm very willing to start a new page with you, here is to our future happy friendship!" Gale's words held so much power in them and sincerity, it was clear this is something he has been putting a lot of thought int

Sol froze as he pulled them into a hug, patting their back awkwardly. Gale closed his eyes reading to cast a counterspell at the tip of his tongue as he held strongly in the hug.

Then Sol wrapped their arms around his neck, his smile grew as he thought he finally cracked down their walls. Only for them to tighten their hold until he couldn't breath, cutting off his air until he loosen his grip around them.

They immediately broke away from his embrace.

"I would rather hug a cactus at least it doesn't smell like cheap magic."

Their friendship was rather short lived.

Halsin

Maybe it's his bear form and he's high on some honey and cuddles them, they don't recognise him and happily let this adorable bear nuzzle them. Animals never befriend them so easily, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity and they haven't really been this close to a bear before. Even the most cuddly of cats run away from them.

Then you make a comment on how Halsin needs to tone down his honey consumption and it's like they were drenched in cold water.

Desperately kicking their way out of the heavy bear on top of them, clawing at the dirt to pull themselves away as if he's burning them alive. Halsin doesn't register their attempts and his fur is too thick for them to make any scratches.

So they do the only thing they know, they bite him, deep.

There is a metallic taste in their mouth and the smell of burnt fur follows after. They're seriously uncomfortable with this and want their personal space back.

Ugh the one time an adorable animal finally trusts them and it's this fake druid wannabe, they refuse to be on a team with him for a whole week after this incident. And keep snapping at anyone who touches them even if it's you.

Halsin seriously unnerves them. Even when he sincerely apologise after, they tell him they don't his apology, he should just keep his distance and stay away.

Minthara

There is no way either of them would start the hug, even by accident. Sol keeps their distant away from companions and Minthara is too smart and cautious to touch them, even by accident.

She does kinda of treat them as an endangerment and Sol does the same. Both are aware of how easily the other is to tick off.

You'll have to be the one to plan this hug, maybe it's a dare, or maybe you play the leader card. Whatever it is, both of them are really hesitant and would need a lot of convincing.

When it finally happens it's...awkward, stiff. Minthara insists on having water nearby and Sol insists on Minthara dropping her sword before the hug. It's like the awkward hug two dads would give to each other because their spouces pressured them into it.

You picked the most emotionally constipated people in camp for this.

It's over quickly and they don't speak about it. If you ask Sol how it felt, they tell you it's none of your business. If you ask Minthara, she'd say it was as disappointing as she thought, why did you even suggest this?

Both of them actually enjoyed it a bit.

Durge

You're struggling against your ropes, against the dark thoughts swarming your brain.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

It repeats, you can only focus on the Sorcerer kneeling besides you.

How delicious it would be to tear them limb from limb, to show them how weak they really are. Would they beg for mercy or would their pride make them a boring silent kill? How much torture can they endure before their mind breaks?

Sol is looking at you with defeated eyes. As if they've seen this sight before, as if this isn't their first time holding a loved one down.

Pain isn't a great cost. A lot of things are worth enduring it for. Beauty, love, family, power.

You.

They ignore your previous words of staying away as they lean down, hugging your struggling body against theirs. They're strong enough by this point to hold you down, strong enough to hold your snapping jaw close.

It's okay, the tell you, they'll give you whatever you ask for. Just stay, don't let the voices win, don't lose yourself.

They aren't always careful, they end up with a couple bone deep bites from you. But they never burn you, never look at you with any resentment. Only understanding, only compassion.

It's the longest hug they've ever given anyone.

They'll do whatever it takes to calm you down, they never want you to feel alone even in your most dangerous of states. They never want you to experience the shame or isolation that eats up at them.

Tav

They snapped at you in anger when you touched their flower, it's gotten so old that a mere single touch made one of the petals easily crumble and fall.

They said mean words, very mean things as they blamed you for ruining something that saved them. Seething rage blinding them to the hurt expression on your face.

But you're not snapping back, not taking the bait. Sol is growing more irritated, why can't you ever do anything right? They yell.

It doesn't matter how you react, or what you explain. They end up storming away. You don't see them the next day but their stuff is still there, their precious belongings still next to yours.

They'll eventually be back, after they cooled off. They don't meet your eyes, don't talk to you much.

You can corner them and force them to face you, tell them this is getting absurd and their silent treatment won't fix the situation, that if they're angry at you they should just say so.

They're not angry at you, they're angry at themselves, they confess. You shouldn't forgive them, you should be angry, you should hate them for how they can't control something so simple as their anger, for being mean to you over something so stupid.

...but that flower really meant a lot to them, Sol knows you didn't mean it. They it was old and a miracle it survived the many battles they've been through for this long. But all they felt is unbearable pain when they saw it crumble and fall. They tell you they'd have preferred you severed a limb of theirs instead.

It doesn't excuse their actions they know. You deserve better, they can't be better. This is a losing game you're playing with them, because no matter how hard they try they always slip, something one day will always make them snap.

And they'll always hurt you, no matter how much they love you. So please either hurt them back or go, don't be this selflessly kind. They don't have anything of worth to offer you.

...why are you still standing here? Didn't you hear them?

You want this? You want them as they are? God...You're really an idiot.

But you're their idiot.

They immediately hug you, apologising deeply for all the words they said. They don't want to let go, they never want to let go of you. Don't be cruel and take away the single speck of love they somehow managed to swidle out of this life, out of the destiny they were born to fullfill.

Their kind is not meant for love, but for power. And you make them feel the weakest they have ever felt. It's exhilarating.

[fluffypotatey]

hi, i'm late for the wip thing (grr busy, unfortunately) but can u tell about the 11 to 20, please? 🥹

hooooo boy you sure you wanna open that can of worms, deary 👀

i mean, I’m totally sharing just…it’s gonna take some time 😅

*coughs* sO

11. Yassifying Chick Flicks: Neither the First Nor the Last

happy pride 💅

As the title says, nothing about this story is hetero it is all homo. it’s a trope subversion on le old teen high school Chick Flicks. literally, the character’s initials tells you what their roles are (MC = main character, LI =love interest, RH = red herring, TBF = toxic best friend)

Can be interpreted as a character study on teen girls and internalized misogyny tho and i fully intend to expand on it.

12. Sunglasses Quiz

ok so this is just a cute little story of these two girlfriends who are trying to buy sunglasses, and you know how some have it where you take a quiz?

yeah, so these girlies are trying to take the quiz and end up getting……ahem, distracted 👀

anyway, the little description i write for this was “i was feeling sappy so i wrote some sappy queer love” so 🏳️‍🌈 happy pride🏳️‍🌈

“As a renowned researcher yourself,” Laura exclaimed, ignoring Pen’s comment, “it is shameful”— Pen rolled her eyes— “you, who have published many scholarly works into the world, should know better!”

Pen would have definitely shoved her girlfriend. She definitely would have if it were not for that sweet, “innocent” smile on Laura’s face. That’s what she tells herself anyway.

13. Witch boy

Repeating myself -> “LISTEN: i know this one also complete when you go to Ao3, but that's just because the 3rd part is being fucking slOW, so i said "fuck it ends nice at ch2 anyway," but i do want to add more. but yeah, to summarize: fic was inspired by a Halloween fanart i saw and i just ran with it.”

basically, it’s a modern au of bbc’s merlin but there seems to be magic leaking into “our” world every Halloween. and our lovely band of misfits (Merlin, Arthur, Gwen, Morgana, Lancelot, Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, and Leon) have taken it upon themselves to put a stop to it every Halloween. Also, slow burn romance between Merlin and Arthur bc i can never help myself. the 3rd installment is still in the works T^T but I do want to complete this one day. but yeah, here’s a snippet:

14:27 HighPriestessofthemStilletos: ARTHUR ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE L'Oréal Hair: oop arthur’s in trouble!!!HoodieReigns: oh good so he’s not just doing this to me AngelQueen: He didn't even pick-up when you called? HighPriestessofthemStilletos: @HighKing_Wart I WILL BLOW UP YOUR PHONE HighPriestessofthemStilletos: DON’T TEST ME HoodieReigns: it seems he did not, in fact, pick-up when she called gwen

14. Emrys Shrine

this one is essentially a continuation of the Shrine of Emrys fic I wrote months ago but it is still in the works. Here we have Percival’s pov of the aftermath of the fic

Percival often wondered if Merlin was like him. Someone who had lived in the Druid camps as a child, but then he heard Arthur tell the tale of Merlin’s home Ealdor and his kind-hearted mother. He even met her sometime after Arthur had secured his throne from Morgana once again, and she had explained how the village has been her home since birth, how she spent her days living in it, how she had raised her darling boy in this place before he left for Camelot.

15. Lucky’s Timeline @ Beacon Hills

SUPER, SUper self indulgent fic where i insert my OCs, Lucy and Nick, into the teen wolf universe and how they interact with it. for example:

“But this is Coach’s car,” McCall said with a frown. “Is it?” Nick replied nonchalantly as he twirled the keys in his free hand, unlocking the car doors.

16. THE everchanging STORYLINE

ahaha…. so i named it that bc i’ve been writing this one for 2 years and almost every month i would change the plot. which meant i needed to reorganize the chapter list and where which scene went 🙄 (i am my own bane) this still happens and it’s been 3 years now T^T

anyway, this wip is my dc/batfam wip, aka the origins of Lucy and Nick lol. plot’s a nonchronological mystery with switching pics to outsider, minor characters, and Nick

17. Lucy Elliot: She Be Descending

literally just the previous but if Lucy was adopted by an abusive douchebag (douchebag being Thomas Elliot) and if she had a corruption arc (ngl i like corruption arc Lucy more she’s unhinged). assassin instead of vigilante and self-made leader of underground elites who “run” Gotham (killed the previous one and he was so impressed by her underhanded moves he placed her in his will instead of his son lmao)

anyway, snippet of Lucy and her (future ex) husband:

“Why darling”— she let out a scandalized gasp— “do you really think I would stray from you?” He merely gazed at her, eyes blank and cold. Lucy stared back, not one to be challenged. She knew he was just riling her up. Not that she was surprised in the slightest of his behavior. Lucy knew this was because of his alleged rivalry with a dear friend of hers. A dear friend whose father was the host of this gala. The gala said dear friend was said to be attending. “I would never doubt a woman who gave me a solemn vow.”

18. Mob Boss Lucy, Basically

remember what i wrote for 17? now let’s shift it to the right again! it’s me taking plot from 16 & 17 and trying to give Nick and Lucy an original story. Lucy still becomes a self-made mob boss but there’s no Gotham, no vigilantes.

the story here is that Lucy and Nick are building their power whilst evading the law and destroying any evidence that would lead to them bc their being hunted by a detective (who’s also Lucy’s childhood friend) and a private investigator

19. Dandelions

explained here

20. not really a sequel but it happens after

so this one is a continuation/sequel to 16. Lucy and Nick are happily married and adopted a really sweet kid (Caleb) but— oh no! horrible mercenaries attack Lucy and Caleb on their walk to the park! It leaves Lucy in critical condition and caused a magical outburst from Caleb and— whoops, there’s now a rift in time and space 🤷🏻‍♀️

i don’t really have much written and it’s self indulgent anyway so yeah

AND THERE YOU GO 🎉 phew that took me a bit but it was fun talking about them so thanks for the ask @thiamsxbitch 💕💕💕💕💕

[dollmother]

6/3

woke up early today. couldn’t get up. i usually have this ritual of waking and staying still in my bed until my body decides it wants to go back. much to do, but also not? it’s a confusing thing. that’s it. i’ve written enough.

letters really aren’t my thing. my handwriting is terrible at best and i am too sweet on the privilege of online texting. though now i see reason to write “acoustically”. heh.

in this timeframe i wonder about the bleached golden strands. will they fall between my hands if not on my lap? where would things leave, then end the same way it has for years? i know.. i know… do i slow down and write on pen and paper? the way time adds value to the things we have to say to each other. i wonder if silence in the spaces between are more important than the words themselves. i enjoy talking to them the same way a man indulges in a slot machine. to obsess is to possess some sort of uncertainty. mystery, the essence of love. the magnetic force that draw us together. we all love to uncover just enough in our chase, but not so much that there is no more novelty. but the feeling should be more than just a dopamine reaction. how? when emotional permanence is confused with stagnation. you stop feeling the itch that makes you jump from your seat and suddenly forget…

sometimes i really can’t tell the truth out of lies. everyone feels this way, don’t they? but it simply isn’t true. there are a wider range of mindsets beyond my own world view.

it might be the intense self-absorption, you know—the haunting feeling that everyone is lying to you because of YOU. everything is about you always, the insecurity stems from a fear of criticism. This wound opened in childhood when the parent would constantly criticize their child for not doing things right. Doubt forms from trauma. This ritual would make you feel shame towards how you are, and that everything wrong around is always YOUR fault. There is a small sect of us who take all the responsibility in a self-flagellating way, too burdened with shame and self-pity for anything actionable. the ultimate goal of the universe is entropy. things may thrive in stagnation but the order always realigns itself with entropy. it never matters how sorry you feel for yourself for what occurred, but rather how things could change for the better. remorse would not absolve you when the only immutable thing was the action and its consequences. radical acceptance is the idea to accept things as they are, despite the difficulties. the past will never change, some people may never forgive you, and that was the end of it.

sometimes shit happens and you find yourself trapped in the loathing cycle. the ego is in self-preservation mode and shame freezes it into place. complete stagnation, the withdraw into your cell. Quite unhelpful for those who reject their nature, but soothing for those without a second thought. it is always much easier to be complacent where there is comfort in stagnation. knowing all this exists, why does it matter? why would anything matter under the pretense of potential change? maybe i don’t need to explain myself for anything and just become someone else. What is the point in analyzing yourself all the time, to never fully metamorphose? in that current state, the brain only thinks about self-harm selfishly. to fuel you to pity yourself, soothe you in a twisted way in your own suffering. because it was familiar, internalized through years of rituals. victimhood is a shield against criticism, or so we believe. does all of that ever justify anything? not at all. because the unscathed are never given any sympathies, only the tarnished and vandalized. there is no rage ever more reasonable than a provoked one. it goes back to the saying how you can’t lash out for the harm you have endured. but it just happens. it just happens time to time and while you could always control it….you didn’t. the worst part about me is that i spend too much time lamenting my own flaws and thinking it would resolve me into failing less. Rather it does little than waste everyone’s time. i’m only well behaved during times of composure, never without. emotional discipline is a difficult concept to grasp. the things i feel so intensely both define my happiness and doom it in one breath. i lose my mind much too easily and i forget how to be the bigger person. always something i needed to work on first. to feel, then stop and think, and process that in a normal way. i both think too little and too much—too much during times when it is detrimental to my progress. too little before someone gets hurt. it takes a great deal of conscientiousness to be aware about things larger than yourself. even an ounce of selfishness would have you blind to the impact of everything you do. i had believed my impact to be inconsequential in that stupour of self-pity. that was a huge mistake. everything anyone ever does matters, that will never change. for those who think that nothing does, you trample over hands in willful ignorance.

i love to think way too much. something to do to pass the time. something to give me cushion to say i’m not totally unaware. then again, i know nothing and a little a bit late. i am still a child learning its way through the world. what is the correct way to act? i feel as though there are thousands of questions to get through before finding the answer.

self-reflection, though this is a double-edged sword. one can never spend too much time in self-reflection. paralyzed and addicted to tearing apart each little thing. it’s obsession almost, selfishly so. the worst type of ego wound, the chronic self-aware nut. yes, you understand why you’re like this, now what? what will you do to overcome the despair that maybe you’d never change for anyone or even yourself? i’ll reiterate on why it’s important that nothing else matters as much as the will to change. maybe the cardinal problem was that the nature of your ego. the irrational fear of feedback and the defense of nihilism. that was the only world in which criticisms did not matter. i guess i do need to be alone for a while. away from any kind of trigger. the mending process isn’t linear, how i wish it was. i hate to be better to always slip back into my old habits.