#I am a sugar angst advocate

[poedays]

Sugar. Angst. Advocate.

This is 100% based off of @breezysuffers’s Sam scar post. But like. On the assumption that vampire bite scars are really prominent and don’t fade as quickly as regular scars. How many of Sugar’s bite scars do you think were teeth scratching across flesh, leaving ripped and ragged scars that don’t fade (this is based off of my headcanon that their turning was a bloody and violent fight).

Once again based off another person (@Stormingcoming6’s comment on one of Miss Liza’s YouTube videos) - Sugar likes to wear three piece suits to the diner. One part of this is style and comfort, although on the other hand: the long sleeves and collar help hide grotesque scars on their neck and arms.

I’d like to think as Sugar gets to know Miss Liza better, they feel more comfortable shedding their layers. They leave their suit jacket on a diner stool to ‘conveniently come back for it’ later, or roll up their sleeves to help clean up tables, or they un-button their shirt at the excuse that it’s ‘too hot’. Slowly this formal attire they use as armour gradually falls down. The more they realise that the interest they have for this mortal diner owner is more than just a curiosity, the more they realise that their own love doesn’t have to be impeded by their immorality. And maybe just because they know it’ll end at some point, doesn’t mean that they can’t make every moment worth it.

I love my snazzy vamp Sugar. 🥰

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I Still On1y Care About...

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Sept 2024 Week 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) eps 7 of 12 - Deeeelightful. They are so damn cute + a nice kiss! The rise of the green flag semes continues. I like it when Diew flirts and shows that he does have some experience in a relationship, and he can/will flex his power. Props to God for being a man who remembers to TAKE HIS DRINK with him. 

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 4 of 10 - Yep I still like it and all its toxicity. It’s fun to see how closely it follows the original. Now I really can’t wait to see how this one ends. Since this time around we get an actual ending.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 6 of 12 - How did they know that what I wanted more than anything was a side couple = spoiled prince + demon lord? How clever they are to give them to me. Meanwhile, in a shocking twist, the leads have known each other since childhood. Because why be original? 

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 8 of 12 - Oh it’s very cute. I love Ing. I love that Ai was honest with his bestie. Best friend's older brother trope is a go! Also good kisses all round. 

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 1 of 12 - Ohm has his shirt off less than 5 min in. I guess GMMTV is learning what we want. My boy Title is the creep character again. I’m assuming that’s why GMMTV brought him on board at this juncture. Sigh. New boy, Q, looks like Mek’s younger brother. Ultimately? I'm not convinced on this one. It is doing what it says on the tin, but nothing more than that. I’m not wild about it, but I will keep watching.

The Trainee (Sun YT) ep 10 of 12 - The more OffGun BLs, the more time they spend communicating as characters in those BLs. It’s kind of charming. They've become the pair that advocates for communication in relationships. I like it as evolution for their brand. Flirting via the printer was very fun. Especially as the Thai script is so beautiful.

Live in Love (Sun Gaga) ep 1 of 5 - I guess this is a lockdown narrative? Odd choice. A lot of familiar faces but from more minor rolls. Is this from the Destiny Seeker people? It feels like that. It’s a bigger cast than I was expecting, and a sort of classic university BL of the kind star Hunter produces. Or the end of love people. Pretty classic Thai pulp stuff. I’m mildly enjoying it. Hali is too hot to be the dorky second lead. Nice to see Boat back on my screen. However, it is… what’s the word I am looking for? Oh yes. Boring. Plus singing. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 5-6 of 12 - I entirely lost my mind over this show this week. Fuck me it's so good. The delicacy sends me. I keep expecting it to be clumsy and then is just isn't - it's so subtle and it demands we pay such close attention. I feel like I'm holding my breath the whole time I'm watching.

Cliff's notes on these 2 eps as follows:

The pure unadulterated tsundere of it all.

The awesome angst, it aches.

The series of repercussions after the fight was pacing genius.

The brilliant juxtaposition of "the kid who self isolates too easily" versus "the one who has been forced into isolation" meets both of them being smart enough to know why they react out of hurt, but neither can stop doing it.

Baby’s reaction to learning he’s going to be left behind = to instantly make plans to do the leaving in the future hurts my heart in the best possible way.

"Maybe what we call eternity is just persistence."

Maybe one boy simply deciding to be another boy's rock is romance. 

Production better nail the second half of this show! It better be the world against them from here on out or the audience is gonna riot.

And by "audience" I mean me.

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 5 of 10 - Oh noes! Poor baby boy!!! My heart hurts. But also gah so cute and next week they shack up together! Hooray! 

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 11 - too much time spent on the girl again. I don’t need excuses for why she’s a bitch. So can we talk about Taichi instead? It’s such a good characterization, this boy who understands everything about other people but doesn’t notice anything about himself, including his own abilities of observation. The person who is special never realizes how special they are, I guess. The soundscapes are so good with this show. The moments where prod decided to be silent are so vital and so pivotal and used with such delicacy and strategy, it’s truly audio magic manipulation.  

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) eps 7-8 of 12 - I loved how Orca just jumped on the stage. What a great side couple. CHARMED I TELL YOU. Orca was all… singing? Naw. I came back to fuck the manager's brains out. Anything less than that is unacceptable. 

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 10 fin - Essentially this was a growth story for Takara and an exercise in patience while the two of them learned each other’s quirks and languages. It was also an exercise in patience for me... who doesn’t like the power differential of a weaker younger character having to do all the pursuing while constantly feeling like he is inferior to the older popular hot character. I know this was a BL that was definitely for some people, since plenty liked it way more than I did, but I didn’t like it very much even though there’s nothing objectively wrong with it. It simply wasn’t to my personal taste. 7/10 

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 5-6 of 8 - Enter an ex or something? Well he certainly has a type. Bah. This whole series seems to be mainly about cheating. It’s very annoying because they are all so pretty. 

Happy of the End (Japan Tues Gaga) - Based on a manga, longer than usual run time. A boy is disowned for being gay, dumped by his boyfriend, and ends up in a dysfunctional co-dependant relationship with his would-be kidnapper. We were due for another messy JBL. Messy gay pain here we go.

Oh it’s exactly what I expected. Do I like it? No I do not. And ya know what? There is plenty airing. I have a bad feeling about this one. DNF 

It's airing but...

4 Minutes (Sat Gaga) eps 1-6 of 8 - Gaga picked this one up so we can watch it there. I'm waiting until the end, it seems angsty and confusing and full of awful people being awful. But also... high heat and I'm shallow. So we shall see which devil wins (and how it ends).

The Hidden Moon (Sat ????) ep 1 of 10 - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) ‘เดือนพราง’ by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger)... A Bangkok writer is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai which is being converted into a café. He gets into an accident and nearly dies on his way there. After that, he sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, one boy catches his attention. Was substantially recast. Couldn't find it. Didn't really look.

In case you missed it

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - I'm eating crow, binging the fucker, and live blogging. It's just taking me some time. This isn't really a bingable show, not for me anyway. It's A LOT to take all at once. No new one this week.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Plus:

9/9 Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) 12 eps? - Be gay YinWar, do crimes. Dehup gives us Yin, War, Mark and a few other familiar faces in a Leverage sitch, only queerer.

9/14 Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sat ????) ?? eps - Remake of the original. I'm scared too.

9/15 Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) 10 eps - Assistant to a player boss who is in love with that boss decides to quit to save himself. The boss then makes a move. (A gay What's up with Secretary Kim?)

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Coming SEPTEMBER 2024:

9/17 Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 10 eps - Lawyer and a con artist meet at a bar, pair up, fall in love.

9/28 Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YouTube) ?? eps - oh I don't know just Ba Vinh doing his thing with pretty boys again.

9/? The Time of Fever (Korea iQIYI) 6 eps - HoTae & DongHee are back! Side couple from Unintentional Love Story, same actors, same character names I an WILD for this.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Not sure what this is from but I capped it for a reason so, shrug.

The scent trope AND the childhood crush trope? I see you suckering me into one trope because I like the other. Clever, Battle. Very clever.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

[lamemaster]

The Silmarillion Elves Finding My Mutual's Blog

AN: why am I doing this? Lack of brain cells, I tell you. But here we go (lmk if you would like to be removed...I don't intend to offend anyone). A small gift for mutuals and feel free to add more blogs if needed.

Summary: How would characters from the Silmarillion react to finding my mutual's blogs. Purely based on my interpretation which may or may not be messed up.

@asianbutnotjapanese: the loremaster with all the records. Elrond and Finrod. Do I need to say more? This trio would sit together to appreciate all the writings together. A group that thrives together as they compare their findings.

Finrod's appreciation might originate in the form of odes complimented by the notes of his harp.

Kings and queens of reblogging stuff for easier access.

@doodle-pops: There's going to be a crowd here. But the chief guest of this gathering can be none other than Fingon. Accompanied by Glorfindel and Fingolfin (because I see you with that sugar daddy fic Mina).

I completely expect Fingon to encounter the blog, binge-read everything and then create his own the very next day (and yes, he will write the most cursed ships). This elf will create multiple other accounts to comment on the Fingon fics...Will jokingly compare the note count of his fic with that of Maedhros'.

Glorfindel is just another golden retriever. He will meticulously thank you and the rebloggers (celebrates humbly at his popularity). And he will be the one to send super sweet 'you're amazing' kind of asks to the writer.

Fingofin will become an established annon on the blog. No one knows it's him. His online personality is 180 from his real life. (He's got some ships and opinions and mans won't stop from stating them *aggressively*.

@a-world-of-whimsy-5: The Ainur. Sauron, Namo, and Irmo (Manwe and Eonwe are lurking) are here and they will read everything. Don't be surprised if you get a bunch of passionate Sauron requests by an 'annon' the next day. Very specific requests.

Irmo on the other hand reads even the spiciest fics with a poker face late at night. I can just imagine him laying with his phone in his hand as he scrolls through the blog. A quiet existence but don't be surprised when you wake up with 50 notes and a new followers.

Namo will start by restraining himself to the sfw fics but somehow ends up reading nsfw and goes down the rabbit hole. Next day the he can't look anyone in the eye (especially Manwe). Decides never to do that again only to come back for more (don't even bring him close to hurt no comfort, this Ainur cried for Luthien. He can't handle angst).

@wandererindreams: Ulmo, Manwe, Eru, and The Void. Just a merry group having existential conversations. You all would be sitting there with your copy of texts and believe me Eru will pull out receipts to prove shit.

The sight of the Void being hyped by all the extensive headcanons...chef's kiss. Literal black hole feels included in the fandom for the first time.

Manwe and Ulmo would be there with wisdom and appreciation for your deep contemplation. Both commenting their piece and views about the subject in lengthy comments.

Eru will be taking notes. I can envision Iluvatar, playing devil's advocate (ironic) and arguing against anything and everything. Eru likes hooman who challenge him (ask Numenorians).

@animatorweirdo: Maglor and Sauron. The second eldest Feanorian will be found blushing as he reads your works and he will revisit the blog in bouts of day-dreaming of his true love. Leaves adorable emojis in the comments.

Believe me, Sauron would get some pretty interesting ideas from all your sci-fi fics. Now he really really really needs a vampire plus werewolf SO so bad. This maia will flourish under all the attention given to him. Follows fervently but will like sparingly (he's got an image to maintain).

I would also spy a lingering Maedhros but he's got the tired mom energy so he'll be a flickering presence who remembers Tumblr once every 3 months.

Lamemaster: dead. Feanor or Finwe will smite me the second they see my blog.

[simpjaes]

aurrr i spent the whole day thinking u ignored my ask or hadn’t gotten to it yet, but turns out it didn’t show up in my feed…hate this app fr 🙄 but yes yes i love infidelity, love triangles, and just any type of angst with another love interest. my irls who read books and all say they hate books with “the other woman” plot because the guy should be so obsessed he doesn’t look at anyone else. they also hate cheating. i get it, irl if a man cheats on you, DUMP HIS ASS!! 🗣️ BUT if it’s in books, i eat up that angst. if i don’t feel the angst in my stomach i don’t want it. can’t wait for the fic!!!

anyways hard thoughts about jay before i study for the next 4 hours 💔:

(also forgive me ik we see him as a switch on this blog but i am an advocate of the dom jay agenda)

(these are also not super crazy. i’m sorry if you wanted something more feral)

- him constantly buying you lingerie for you to model for him. he sits back in his chair, manspread as you do a little twirl for him in the matching black lace set he got you. when he really likes a set he will have you wear it again and fuck you in it. and that’s where those polaroids in his wallet come from 🫢

- he sets up a cute picnic being the romantic guy he is but it’s not very cute when all of a sudden you’re riding him on the blanket, his hand covering your mouth so no one hears. he treats being caught as a literal joke.

- sugar daddy jay who’s the head of some big company and keeps you pushed up against the window of his office, fucking into you from behind everytime you visit. let’s just say you try to see him at the office at least 2-3 times a week.

-💗

oh oh oh, you may have misread me. When i write infidelity fics, you're not the one being cheated on usually. You're the one cheating tho, because if there's anything better than one possessive man, it's two possessive men.

I would never in my life condone cheating in real life, but in fantasy? I can have whatever i want and if i wanna date jake, then notice his hot taller friend sunghoon eyeing me, imma date him too, and then if i notice jay in the corner with a boner? bam, third boyfriend idc.

also, u misread me again possibly. i don't think u know how rare it is for me to write men as dominant, or to see them as switches considering i prefer to be the more dominant party lol, i 100% see jay as someone who can and will take control. me seeing him as a switch is just like, a base level feeling. i just don't like to be dominated by men that pretty tbh (but im lying, i do like it and that's why I'm writing more of that here)

the second thought sticks with me more than the others tho. public sex bc either you or him are too desperate to wait? mannnnn, even better if you're poking, pushing his buttons, trying to tease him and be a brat because you know he won't fuck you right there, on the blanket in the park.

and by the point he's actually pissed, you freeze when he's like "what, you think I won't?" all while pulling you into his lap, pulling it out, stuffing you full, and holding your mouth. "you really thought I wouldn't, didn't you?"

>:D

[sunflowerryvol6]

Pigments

Warnings : angst, mentions of blood

WC : 2k

Hey! so I've got all these angsty prompts anywho, hope you like this. This the first time I've had an OC, so let me know if you like that? This came together, quite quickly, so the edit might be a little choppy. Feedback and ideas are always welcome!

Masterlist

happy reading!

"Lovie! You can't be knocking things in your wake, gotta be a little more careful y'know?" He said.

Nylah froze. "I'm sorry, H. I guessed I misjudged the distance?" she nervously giggled.

"S'okay, you good? You don't sound all too convinced about that?"

"Nope. All good, I guess it was a little foggy, nothing too serious."

"Okay, if you say so." That response didn't convince him, though. Ever since the patio incident, he'd been keeping a close eye on you. He had a feeling she'd been hiding something. But he wasn't sure enough to call her out on it. He was waiting to see if she'd come to him first. Even if she was the stubborn one between the two, he would let it go for today, and no one wants to argue on the weekend, right?

He wishes he'd had that argument and taken one for the team because maybe then he could have avoided this phone call altogether. Or that's what he tells himself.

Nylah had taken a significant fall at work, slipped down the stairs and hurt her head, and they said she was bleeding. That's all he heard before he made a mad dash to his car to get to his fiance. His heart was racing; he couldn't piece any information together. He remembered to make a quick call to his mother; asked her to call Nylah's mum and meet him at the hospital. As far as any information went, Nylah was still unconscious, so that they wouldn't allow him in with her.

"Well, I'm her husband. You've got to let me stay with her. What if she wakes up and there's no one beside her? Please, let me go see her."

"I'm so sorry sir; She's getting her stitches now. You can wait outside the procedure room, and they'll let you in as soon as it's completed." the nurse says.

Amid this argument, Anne comes rushing through. "What's going on? have you been in to see her yet? have they given you any update?"

"No. we're waiting on them to finish stitching her up. After that the doctor will come and speak with us, I suppose. I don't know why I didn't pay more attention, maybe she was sick and didn't tell me? I mean, I should have noticed, right?" Harry was finding it hard to not tear up with anxiety.

"Harry, what's happened has happened. You just need to make sure she's okay now", and on that cue, the doctor walked in to greet them.

"Are you with Ms Jones?" The doctor asks

"Yeah, I'm her husband. Is she okay? How bad was the fall?"

"It's not too bad, but my concern is more to how she fell. Do you know if your wife has a history of fainting spells? or balance issues? could be one of the reasons she could have taken the tumble."

"None that I'm aware of. Nylah does have low blood sugar, but she is good at keeping that in check and, as far as I recall, she hasn't fainted from a low sugar spell in a few months. But why is that a concern? I mean, it could have just been that she tripped, right?"

"We're just trying cover our bases, Mr.-" He looks at Harry as if to ask your name

"Styles." He responds.

"Okay, well, Mr Styles, you may go keep your wife company now. The nurses will let us know when's she awake, and we can have a chat then."

"Thank you." and He turns to what he assumes Nylah's room is and walks in to see her still unconscious.

"Hey kid, I'm so happy to see you; gave us a proper scare. I'm going to be right here beside you when you wake up." He coos. Harry sits down beside her bed and reaches for her hand. He's too fidgety from anxiety to stop his knees from bobbing up and down. Still thinking about what the doctor said. Could it not have been a trip up? Could she have fainted, and no one was there to help her break the fall?

She was doing so well with keeping her sugar levels in check, and maybe she slipped up? All these questions were running amuck in his mind, and he couldn't make sense of it.

In his anxiety spiral, he had utterly missed that Nylah was coming to it. She was slowly peeking through her lids as if the lights were too much for her. Harry quickly stands up. "Baby! Are you okay? Does your head hurt? I'm going to call the nurse for you, okay?"

"Woah, slow down, H, I'm okay. Can you please ask them to dim the lights? It's too much for my head right now." She winces.

"Yes, let me call the nurse for you."

"hey! Did you press the call button? Good to see you're awake, Ms Jones."

"Yeah, she just about woke up. Could we please dim down the lights in here a bit? She's finding it a little difficult to open her eyes because of it."

"Okay, sure, let me inform the doctor, and I'll see about the lights."

"Thank you."

"So, what happened? Did you feel lightheaded? missed lunch or something?"

"Okay, so I mean, my vision has been getting kinda blurry of late? I don't know what that's about like I can't see things that might be in my surrounding that well." Harry looked like he wanted to cut her off but let her continue.

"Before you say anything, I didn't want to worry you, and I wasn't worried either until today. I thought I would take the stairs today, and they were white? And I couldn't place my feet. Because I couldn't tell them apart" She was tearing up.

"Hey, it's okay, we'll figure it out, okay? It's probably nothing. Don't worry about it. You're fine, and that's more than enough for now." Harry soothed her. But he really didn't know if it was going to be okay.

When the doctor came, they relayed the same information to him. he suggested getting some tests done to check her diabetes and vision. She's only 25, so it's highly unlikely it's anything major, or at least that's what they thought.

---

Everything will be okay, is what Nyah kept telling herself, but who was she kidding? She had been hiding the blurriness in her vision for quite some time now. Why didn't she want to get it checked and find out what's wrong with her? She can't tell you for the life of her.

On the other hand, Harry had always known, but he thought she would address it sooner or later. He'd noticed she'd totally missed the butter sitting right in front of them at breakfast, and he had to get it for her. She would often take a second to adjust to light early in the morning.

You can't really do anything if you're missing big and obvious things sitting right in front of you, right? But he was wrong, Nylah was stubborn as hell, and she wasn't going to admit herself that she needed help, so it was up to him to figure it out and advocate for her. Had he done this sooner, they wouldn't be in a position like this, right?

---

The white walls of this hospital felt like it was caving in on Nylah. She didn't want to be here, neither did she want to get tested, and she didn't know anything point. This nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach just wouldn't go away. Harry was trying to be as supportive but to be honest, he was scared shitless too, neither of them of any help to each other. So they sat, quietly taking the eerie atmosphere of the hospital, holding each other's hands, hoping that warmth would enough to get through this cold tunnel of uncertainty.

--

After a whole week of a myriad of tests, they were sitting in front of their eye surgeon, who just gave them the news. They call it retinitis pigmentosa, and there isn't a concrete treatment that's shown to work yet.

That's all she heard before Nylah stormed out of the office.

She couldn't sit and hear another word. When the doctor told her about how her children, children who weren't even born yet, would be carriers or sufferers of the same illness. How could she succumb to this fate?

Harry and she were to still get married. They were going to travel the world. They'd been saving up for it, right? And babies? Oh, her babies with Harry, would that even be possible right now? Would he even want to continue this engagement?

She was sitting on the stairs outside the hospital. Crying into her hands, she didn't know what the hell to do anymore. So she would do what she thought was the best for her and Harry.

Harry came running after her. "My! what's wrong? Please come back? The doctor wasn't even finished giving us options on what we could do about this. Petal, you've got to hear him out. Please. " He looks like he's about to cry too, wouldn't you? If you found out the love of your life wasn't going to be able to see anymore? That she would miss arguably the best years of your lives together? He couldn't break down in front of her, though. So he would be the calm, reassuring voice of reason for her right now. Breaking down is for later when she is resting.

Nylah wouldn't budge, so eventually, they drove back home. She jumped out of the car before he could even be done parking. She hadn't said a word throughout the ride, and he didn't know what was on her mind. So he parked the car and walked in.

He slowly approached their room, only to find her packing all her belongings. He was a little puzzled, "Ny, darling? What are you doing? why are you packing?"

She turns around to look at him. That's when he notices her red-rimmed eyes, pooling with tears. She walks over to the dresser, takes off her ring and places it on the table. It was as if she was saying; This is it, you know?

He finally placed what was going on. "Oh no. No. You're not doing that, this is stupid, you're ending our engagement over this? Absolutely not. Please, baby, you've calm down. There's a long way to go still, and we don't even know all our options yet."

"I am going blind, Harry. I won't be able to see your face when I kiss you anymore. I won't give you children that might not be addled with the same disease as me. Hear yourself when you make this commitment, Harry." and go. I'm to packing her stuff. She was furiously wiping tears away. How were you supposed to keep a straight face when the love of your life is not going to be a part of your life anymore.

"I do, I'm in it for the long haul, aren't I? We'll break our savings and go to all the places you want to go to. We'll make audio vlogs, we'll document everything that we encounter, for you to remember. I'll do anything!"

Harry was panicking now. He's desperately trying to get her attention, to get her to see that he'll bring her the moon if that's what she desires. But this silence was too much for him. He could'n;t keep up with her. She was just throwing things into her bag. Finally, it felt like he snapped back into his reality, and he rushed behind her to keep those items back into her part of the closet. Because he wasn't going to let her go that easily. She'd have to fight him for it.

As he was putting things back, she was putting more stuff into her suitcase, and it was this weird limbo of aggressively shoving things here and there.

"Stop putting things back! I have to leave. I'm not going to put you through this, I'm not waiting around for you to decide when you're done with me, when it gets too tiring, No. I'm not sticking around to witness us and our love going sour. " She's screaming now.

He doesn't bother replying to her. He knows she'll ride out this tantrum.

He's crying too, heaving heavy breaths. He doesn't know if this is enough. If just letting her be angry is enough. He's just quietly putting her clothes back. That's when he hears something shatter against the wall. He frantically looks up to see their dresser lamp broken into million pieces on the floor. She goes for the jug of water next and throws it at the wall with as much strength as possible. The cup goes next.

He's screaming at her to stop, but she can't hear anything over her wailing and things breaking. She grabbed a vase from their windowsill and broke that too, it's mad fury, and she's so angry she can't breathe.

She's snapped out of her reverie when she hears him shout in pain. She looks at him and sees that he's stepped on some broken glass, but that's not what he's shouting about; he's screaming to get her attention to make her see that she's, in fact, hurt herself.

The carpet has got blood all over it, and there's broken glass everywhere. He strides across the room to reach her, only for her knees to buckle and take both of them down, she sinks on the floor with loud sobs, and he can't bring himself to stop crying either.

He rocks her gently, and whispers "We'll be alright", over and over again.

[yeojaa]

LOVE HER, LEAVE HER - ft. pjm

You’ve loved him for as long as you can remember.  He loved you once, too.  But no one ever told you that sometimes that’s not enough.  That sometimes, loving is the hardest part.

pairing.  park jimin.

genre + rating.  angst.  fluff if you squint.  general.

warning / tags.  past relationship, break-up, unrequited love, moving on.  

reading.   n/a.  a stand-alone one-shot.  for now…

word count.  ~2200

“I miss you.”  He says, sweet and low and full of promise that you know he’ll never make good on.  His words ring eager, quietly drifting over airwaves to settle like a weighted blanket that keeps you rooted to the spot.  He beguiles you even as he tears you apart at the seams, stitching you together even as he ruins you.

Because you know it isn’t enough.  That you aren’t enough.

“Chim, please.”  You hate the way you sound - as if you’re begging for more.  Or maybe it’s less.  Frankly, you’re not sure what you want.

Would it be easier if he were gone?  Would the ache in your chest go away?  Would you be able to sleep without dreaming of him?  What would that be like?  It’s hard to imagine when he fits himself into every waking moment, his laughter ringing in your ears like a melody on loop and his brilliant smile burned into the backs of your eyelids.

“I’m sorry.”  But you think he must not be that sorry.  If he were, he wouldn’t do this again and again and again.

You’re so exhausted.  He knows that.  He must know that.  

Can’t he hear it in the way your voice trips over its own two feet, the heart cradled carefully in your hands shattering into a million little pieces?  Surely he can feel it when those same shards dig into his fingertips, begging to be put back together.

“You can’t keep doing this.”  There’s that desperation colouring your words the same pretty mosaic of black and blue as your broken heart.  “You can’t always come running back to me.  It isn’t fair.”

His silence speaks volumes - says more than the words you know he’s trying - and failing - to find.

“I love you.  You know I love you.  I’d do anything for you.”  Have done anything for him.

From staying up all night nursing his fever to picking him up at 3 AM when he’d decided he’d had enough to drink, you were always there.  You were always loyal.  A reliable presence in the otherwise unpredictable life of Park Jimin.

Maybe that’s why he did this.  Because he could - because you’d never stop him.

You were there, no matter when or why he called.  Even after he’d been out chasing the next big thing - and there was always something shinier, something better - you’d welcome him back with open arms, letting those devilishly long legs dance across your feelings as if they weren’t being crushed beneath his soles.

“I’m sorry.”  The apology is the same as it always is - heartfelt and affectionate.  All the love in the world is laced into each syllable.  It’s supposed to make you forget all about the pain, the way he strings you along and keeps you around.

And it does.  You hate it, but it does.

Because despite yourself, he’s the one.  He’s your one.  The one whose coffee order - two creams, a dollop of honey - you can’t get out of your mind.  The one whose hand warms yours when you’re cold, who loves you when you’re at your worst.  The one who you’ve invested every ounce of yourself in.

“I need time,”  he continues, as he always does.  “You know I love you too.”  You do.  Of course you do.  Even when you think he might not, you know better.  Despite all he does, he loves you in his own way.  “We’ll figure it out.  Just give me some time.”

You don’t dwell on the fact that you’ve given him days, weeks, months. That he’s had all the time in the world since he broke your heart a year ago.  Instead, you let yourself get lost in the way he tells you he loves you and how that ignites butterflies in your stomach, pretty little wings propelling your heart out of your broken brassy rib cage.

“How long?”  It’s a foolish, stupid question that you shouldn’t ask.  You’re never going to get the answer you want but you let yourself hope anyway.

“I don’t know.”  And that might be the most honest thing he’s said tonight.  He must realize it too, because his usual facade cracks and crumbles in the form of his voice faltering, hesitation creeping in like a cold chill.  You feel it in your bones, icicles forming beneath your skin.  You wonder if the patterns they form might resemble his silhouette.  “The right time will come.  It’s just not... right now.”

“I don’t know what that means.”  He doesn’t either, of course.  There’s no such thing as a right time.  You don’t live in a fairytale where things just fall into place, glass slipper fitting perfectly.

“Please trust me, baby.”

You hate how the pet name burrows into your thoughts, pervasive in the way it warms you from the inside out, thawing whatever icy exterior you’re trying and failing to uphold.

“This is so hard.”  You want to cry.  You can feel the tidal wave of emotion just beneath the warble of your words, a gargantuan wave threatening to overtake the current.  It climbs and recedes, never quite cresting.  You applaud yourself for holding it together so well.

“I know, I know.”

He has no idea. “You don’t know.”

“I do,” he insists in that way of his, the one that makes you feel silly and small.  It’s not condescending - far from it, in fact - but it’s so insistent that you momentarily think that you must be wrong.  “I think about you all the time.  You know that.”

“Don’t say that to me—”  Don’t get my hopes up, you think.

“You don’t want me to tell you how much you mean to me?  How it kills me to hear about you with someone else?”  You can just imagine his face, the way his mouth must pout around the question, already confident in the answer.  How he’d tilt his head just so, distracting you with the adoration in his eyes and the way his fluffy fringe would support his stare like a goddamn perfect picture frame.  “Because I do and it does.  I think about you every day.  I hate thinking of you with someone else, but as long as you like me more, I try to understand.  That’s how much I love you.”

Everything he says is a sucker punch knocking all the air from your lungs.  It’s like a certified K.O. that leaves you delirious on the ground, punch drunk in love and pain.

“I miss seeing you in my sweaters.  Or waking up holding you.  I think about how good you smell after a shower, or the way you laugh when I steal too much of the sheets.”  He’s so good at this - so fucking good at making you forget everything you hold against him.  It’s that patented Park Jimin charm that he turns on and dazzles you with.  It’s your weakness and he knows it.

It doesn’t mean it hurts any less, even when he’s spinning these cotton candy words that promise to keep you cozy.  Because you know the way it’s only temporary - that at any moment you might plummet through those sugar-spun clouds and shatter beyond comprehension.

“If you miss me so much—”

“Don’t say ‘if.’”  It’s not unkind and yet your cheeks heat, flooded with a guilt that gnaws at the pretty red ribbon that you’re sure connects the two of you.

“—then why can’t you just be with me?”  The million dollar question - another you know you’ll never get the right answer to - but, surprisingly, one you haven’t voiced. You’ve always been too shy, too soft, to make such a query.  It wasn’t in your wheelhouse of skills - so maybe that’s why it takes Jimin off guard.

He hesitates, pauses a beat too long as he mulls over your question.  “You know I don’t like ultimatums.”  It’s more of a relenting, a half-earned admission that doesn’t truly satisfy your curiosity.  

Somehow, it’s exactly what you’d expected.

Finality isn’t something he takes lightly.  He always weighs his options, considers all the pros and cons.  That’s why he still keeps you around - because you’re a safety net.  Even if he makes the wrong choice, you’ll always be there to welcome him back with open arms.  At least that’s what the horned advocate on your shoulder tells you, all red-eyed and spiteful.

“I know.”  There’s an unspoken - and unnecessary - apology threaded loosely between your words and the devil bristles, scowling at the man that could give her a run for her money.  Because surely that’s what Park Jimin is - Satan in disguise, leading you through the halls of Hell and calling it love.

You wonder how long you'll continue to follow him or if you'll ever stop.

It's two weeks later, on an overcast Wednesday afternoon, when he appears at your doorstep. 

"What're you doing here?"  The words come before you can help it, tipping off your tongue and crashing into the silence between you like a boulder.  It drags his sunny expression down with it, all the light in his eyes suddenly dimmed.  It makes your heart twist uncomfortably.

"Do I need to have a reason to come by?"  It's rhetorical, you're sure.  You can see it in the way he stares at you, the subtle turn of his jaw that doesn't leave much room for response.

He steps past you, silver-adorned fingers finding the shape of your waist, thumb drifting lazily over cotton as if it's the most natural thing in the world.  You suppose it is, but that doesn't keep your heart from thudding in your chest, nearly bursting out of its confines.  You have to remind yourself not to lean into the way he coaxes you closer, invades your personal space like you're one and the same.  It's near impossible.  You almost forget to breathe.

He smells so good - like Christmas morning, bright and crisp and dizzying to your senses.

"Didn't you miss me?"  Another question that doesn't beg an answer.  Yet he still demands one, presses insistence into the curve of your cheek, the silk at your temples.  His lips - full and pink and endlessly soft - trace his request, as intoxicating as cherry wine. 

"You know I did."  You mean to be reproachful, to steel your nerves against the fire he ignites beneath your skin.  "But you can't just show up like this."  Like you mean something to him - like he'll stay for longer than the day.  All words you should say, but can't.  Because despite it all, you'll take these secret, half-given parts of him and hope that you can piece them all together into something whole.

"I won't do it again,"  he says so sweetly you almost believe him.  

He's looking at you like you'd hung the stars in the sky and he's trying to find the meaning of the universe in the way your mouth curves and the flutter of your lashes.  But then again, it's nothing new.  You know he'll be distracted when the next meteor shower comes, all too fascinated by the streaks that illuminate the night sky and dim your light.

When you don't immediately respond, giving into him in that same way you always do, his expression shifts, twists and turns around a poorly hidden frown that marks his otherwise pretty features.  There's an edge now, all sharp corners that you cut yourself on in your haste to appease him. 

"Let's not fight."  

Three simple words and he's  your own personal Apollo again, bringing the glory and warmth of the sun into your atmosphere.  He strikes you with the way he smiles, how his eyes wane into little crescents - the moon and sun to your stars.  It's like basking in the July heat and it warms you from the inside out;  it reminds you of every happy memory, painted in rosy shades that keep you coming back for more, more, more.  

"Good idea."  He's catching your hands in his own and pulling you close, booted foot kicking the front door closed with a soft thud.  "Let's watch a movie and lay in bed all day.  I'll even braid your hair."  A small, inconsequential thing to anyone else but one that makes your heart soar. 

It feels so much like what it used to be.  How can you say no to this?  To him?

"I get to pick what we watch,"  you finally give in, relaxing into the way he holds you.  It's home in every sense of the word, lulling you into a sense of security you can't find anywhere else.  Your head slots into the space between his neck and shoulder, nose cold against his collar.  You inhale once, twice - the sweet scent of nectarines and flowers - and try to commit this moment to memory, tucking it neatly among the folded pages you've written together.  

"Of course, baby."  

And before you know it, you're two bodies folded as one.  Where his breath is yours and your heart beats in his chest, limbs tangled and intertwined as wholly as can be while some movie plays forgotten in the background.  When his laugh sounds from your lips and you can feel his pulse in your ears.

You wish it were enough.  It'll never be enough.

notes.  this fic is mainly based on the idea that... jiminie is a big libra baby.  a big, flirty, won’t-let-go-but-won’t-make-up-his-mind libra baby.  i say this with experience, as a fellow big libra baby.

anyway, i was supposed to finish chapters for two other stories but instead, you get this soft, nonsensical angst.  enjoy!

[thesunnyshow]

Name: Sam 

Writing Blog URL: @neochan

What fandom(s) do you write for?: NCT (OT21)

Age: 18

Nationality: I am flavorless white

Languages: English and beginner level Korean

Star Sign: Very much a Leo

MBTI: ENTP-P

Favorite color: Baby blue

Favorite food: Tacos!!!!

Favorite movie: Either The Outsiders or the 1996 version of Romeo and Juliet

Favorite ice cream flavor: Strawberry

Coffee or tea? What are you ordering?: Earl Grey tea with lots of milk and sugar

Dream job (whether you have a job or not): Criminal Prosecutor

Go-to karaoke song: Recently changed to Inception by Ateez!!!

If you could have one superpower, what would you choose?: Mental Manipulation

If you were a trope in a teen high school movie, what would you have been?: The one where everyone is on a race to lose their virginity.

Do you believe in aliens/supernatural creatures?: I like to believe I do. 

When did you post your first piece?: March of 2019

Why did you decide to write for Tumblr?: I honestly have no idea. I was on the site early one morning and thought, “hey, why don’t you make a blog” and then I did. 

What inspires you to write?: Music. I will always answer this question with music. The tempo, melody, lyrics, it doesn’t really matter. Almost any part of music will inspire me. 

What genres/AUs do you enjoy writing the most?: Mafia AU is always fun to work with, but really over done. 

Do you write fluff/angst/crack/general/smut, combo, etc? Why? : Originally I started out as a smut blog, but then I transitioned into writing everything because once you start writing the same things over and over again it gets boring.

What do you hope your readers take away from your work?: I hope they look past the fanfiction aspect. At the end of the day these are our own story lines and original plots, we’re just using a ‘character’ people in the fandom are familiar with. 

What do you do when you hit a rough spot creatively?: I watch a lot of netflix and hope an idea pops up.

What is your favorite work and why? Your most successful?: My favorite work is one that is unreleased as of right now. I haven’t mentioned it on my blog yet so I kind of want to keep it quiet, but my most successful is a reaction I did for the dreamies.  It reached over 2k likes, which is insane for me to even think about. 

Who is your favorite person to write about?: As I write for a 21 member group, it’s less about favorites and more about who I’m feeling that day, but it’s mostly Yuta & Haechan.

Do you think there’s a difference between writing fanfiction vs. completely original prose?: There’s only one difference and that's the characters in the story. Take fanfiction and replace the names with original character names and BOOM, it’s original prose. 

What is your writing process like?: I don’t outline, ever, so I usually just sit down with a blank Word document and wait for the first sentence to write itself. 

Would you ever repurpose a fic into a completely original story?: If I could write one long enough, yes. 

What tropes do you love, and what tropes can’t you stand?: I LOVE LOVE LOVE enemies to lovers, and I can’t really stand strangers to lovers. 

How much would you say audience feedback/engagement means to you?: It means everything. If I don’t get a lot of feedback from a fic then it makes me not want to write more of it. 

What has been one of the biggest factors of your success (of any size)?: Tagging my work properly, and interacting!!

Do you think art can be a medium for change?: Art is always used as a medium for change. This is one example, but with the Black Lives Matter protests, a lot of professional  photos have been posted which make people want to join. I’ve seen rather chilling paintings of various matters that make me want to advocate for change. On tiktok people who have taken the AP art exam have been showing their portfolios, and they are all amazing and touch on topics that need change. 

Do you ever feel there are times when you’re writing for others, rather than yourself?: Yes. I rarely write for myself which is why i’ve taken a break. 

Do you ever feel like people have misunderstood you or your writing at times?: Yes! Sometimes I try to be creative with my wording but then what I actually mean gets lost. It feels like you have to spell out what you’re trying to say sometimes. 

Are there any times when you regret joining Tumblr?: Sometimes I wish that I had joined a place where I could make money more easily, but I get over that once I realize how good of a community is on the site.

Do your offline friends/loved ones know you write for Tumblr?: Just my best friend. 

What is one thing you wish you could tell your followers?: I’m not as intimidating as some have told me. Please talk to me LOL.

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers who might be too scared to put themselves out there?: Go for it. Even if you think you might suck, just go for it. Honestly, you’ll get to where you want to be in time. 

Do you have any mutuals who have been particularly formative/supportive in your Tumblr journey?: I have so many that have come and gone, and so many that have stayed. I can’t name just one without naming the others! I just want them all to know that I appreciate and love them. 

Pick a quote to end your interview with: “Make your life a masterpiece; imagine no limitations on what you can be, have or do ” - Brian Tracy 

BONUS: K-POP CONFIDENTIAL

Interested in your very own episode of The Sunny Show? Find out how to apply HERE.

[dragonfics]

Summary:

The Spider collects her debt...

Warning: This chapter contains attempted rape as well as a lot of non-consensual touching and generally uncomfortable themes.

To skip the attempted sexual assault, stop reading when you reach the first xxx and start again when you reach the second xxx. However, there is still a lot of unwanted touching and general creepiness in the first scene, so skip straight to the second xxx if you need to.

Additionally, there will be a summary of this chapter at the beginning of the next chapter if you feel you need to skip this chapter entirely.

Warnings: Attempted rape, non-consensual touching, non-consensual biting, temporary paralysis, graphic depictions of violence, arachnophobia, breaking bones, poisoning, description of veins, stabbing. Heavy emphasis on how important it is for anyone to let me know if I've missed any tags.

Ship: Spicyhoney Tags: Vampire AU, Medieval AU, Angst, Mild hurt/comfort Chapter WC: ~5.6k

_____________________________________

This is probably the last Bad Chapter™ (barring a few more Angsty Happenings). Lots of hurt/comfort and fluff from here onward.

~Below the cut~

if ya let a vampire get its fangs inta ya, yer as good as dust.

  “Rus…” Edge clawed uselessly at Rus’s skull, his struggles feeble. He’d lost too much magic already. He had no strength remaining. “… stop.” Even his words lacked essence, barely a whisper in the still room. He could feel his lifeforce slipping away…

And yet somehow, in the midst of his own certain demise, Edge felt pleasant. Numb, but comfortable. Weak, but calm. Rus’s venom spread from his neck downward, soaking his nodes and relaxing his body. Though the sane part of his mind urged him to protest—to at least try and fight back—he felt quite content to succumb, and let himself drift off.

In his daze, he thought of Snowdin. Not as it was now, but as it had been in his childhood. He thought of sparring with his brother in unused barns and abandoned farmlands. He remembered the first time they’d played in the snow together, and the first time his brother had returned home from a hunt. Before his training had begun. The memories flooded him, and he basked in them.

And then they were gone.

Edge was pulled sharply back to reality, immediately noticing the absence of Rus’s fangs. He’d been propped haphazardly against the foot of the bed, slumped, his body too weak to hold him up. Rus was standing above him, looking panicked. “edge, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean—i shouldn’t have…”

Edge tried to reach for Rus, but his fingers barely twitched. “R…s…” He was too sluggish to enunciate his words, the sound nothing more than a gurgle. Teleport us, he wanted to say. Get us out of here. He could see the Royal Guard standing behind Rus—they were saying something, but their words were lost in the cotton that filled Edge’s skull. His vision was already darkening around the edges, hazing out of focus.

“i’m sorry, edge, i have to go. i have to—i won’t hurt you anymore. i can’t…” Rus’s voice faded, becoming muffled and incoherent. Edge stared up at him, but he could barely see him. His bones felt like lead—hollow lead. He couldn’t move. He was empty, drained.

He looked up again and found that Rus had disappeared. He was gone. That should have pleased Edge, right? Rus had tried to kill him… had succeeded. Edge should want him gone.

The Royal Guard was shouting, but Edge couldn’t make sense of what they were saying. He felt his body being lifted… and then he slipped into darkness.

  ****

  remember, bro, don’ let yer fear control you.

  Giving up was easy. Letting go. Allowing himself to drift to whatever plane of existence came next. It may have served him well to do so. To let go of all the troubles life came with. To free himself of the burdens and worries of staying alive.

But Edge had always been stubborn. He fought the weight of sleep, and became aware of a tingling sensation at his neck. It wasn’t entirely comfortable—but it wasn’t unpleasant either. Bordering between too much and not enough. It was all Edge could feel.

And then… warmth, which slowly grew to heat. Dancing across Edge’s bones and face, making him sweat. Next came the too-sweet smell of sugar and flowers, then the soft chirping of insects and birds.

Edge opened his sockets and squinted against the light. He searched his surroundings as they gradually came into focus.

He was sitting in a garden. Lush with hundreds of different flowering species. Trees and bushes grew around him, ripe with strange silver fruit. A rainbow of colours danced off the flora and a glance upward revealed a ceiling made of stained glass. In front of him was a long table bearing too much food to take note of—pastries, cakes, tarts, muffins, doughnuts, and a few Edge didn’t recognise.

There was a light cough, and it was then that Edge realised he wasn’t alone. He looked up; sitting across from him was—

“Hello, Edgy dearie~” Muffet trilled, her thin purple mouth curling into a smile. “How lovely of you to finally join us.”

Edge’s first instinct was to reach for his magic. He tried to lift his hand—but was hindered by the sticky web binding his wrists to the chair. He looked up at Muffet sharply, sockets widening in panic. She leaned forward and rested her chin delicately on top of her hands. “Aren’t you looking lovely?” she said, simpering. “It’s been far too long. You’ve grown up nicely. Very nicely, dear.”

Her depthless black eyes wandered the length of his body, and Edge realised his armour had been replaced by a light silk robe. Out of reflex, he moved his arms to try and cover himself, but the webs held fast. His chest was almost bare, the robe providing little coverage for his upper half. His feet were bare too. He could feel the grass beneath them.

He stared at Muffet, though holding eye contact with her made his chest clench unpleasantly. She was too calm, too satisfied with herself. “What do you want?” Edge asked, his voice emerging raspy.

Muffet tilted her head, studying him curiously. She leaned back, indicating the food laid out on the table in front of her. “Why don’t you eat something?” she asked. “You still have a lot of magic to restore.”

It occurred to Edge then, that… Well. He wasn’t dead. And in fact, he could feel that his HP hovered rather comfortably above half, magic greasing his joints. He didn’t like to think what Muffet might have fed him to replenish it. “Not hungry,” he said, flatly. “Why am I here?”

Muffet considered him, biting into a cupcake. “Consider yourself an honoured guest, dearie,” she said, pleasantly, wiping the frosting from her mouth with a delicately folded napkin. “It’s been so long. Too long. I’ve missed you.” She smiled and Edge’s chest lurched.

“For good reason,” Edge said, tightly. “I don’t work for you.”

“Not anymore,” Muffet said, sighing. “A pity. You were one of my favourites.” The sparkle in her black eyes made Edge shudder. She watched him in silence, and he didn’t dare look away. Didn’t dare submit. He met her gaze head on, unwavering, despite the pit of nausea in his soul.

After she’d finished her cupcake, Muffet stood and leaned across the table, cupping Edge’s face with two hands. “You’ve picked up a few scars,” she remarked, more observant than remorseful. She trailed a finger over the deep one that cut through his left socket, then hesitated when she reached his neck. Her fingers hovered, half an inch above the fresh bite wound. Drawing back, she let her hand rest back on his cheekbone again, smiling. “They suit you.” Her claws raked across his face—too hard—before she pulled away. Her hands left behind a crawling feeling on the bone.

“How long do you intend to play games with me?” Edge asked, blandly. “I was hoping to be home for dinner.”

“Oh, you will be,” Muffet said. “One way or another.” She eyed him, walking towards her garden and plucking a piece of fruit Edge didn’t recognise from one of the bushes. Silver juice spilled from down her chin as she bit into it. “Care for a bite?” she asked Edge. He tensed as she came to stand behind his chair, leaning over and sliding her hands down his chest. “It’s delicious.” He felt her breath against his skull as she inhaled. “Much like yourself.”

Edge rolled his eyes but remained painstakingly still as Muffet’s hands wandered him. Droplets of silver spilled into his lap as she took another bite from the fruit. The liquid looked familiar. Edge frowned.

“You’ve seen it before,” Muffet observed. “I traded it to you. Though, the portion I gave you was far more concentrated than this.” She took another bite of the fruit. “It should have been enough to kill that beast you’ve been parading around.” There was a note of bitterness to her tone, and the admission stunned Edge.

He gathered himself, swallowing. “The King allows you to grow silver fruit?” he asked, feigning impassivity.

Muffet tittered and placed the half-eaten fruit on the tablecloth. She leaned over his shoulder again, running her hands beneath his robe. “Oh, dearie. He’s my best customer.”

The confession chilled Edge just as much as Muffet’s wandering hands. What use did the King have for silver fruit? Silver was deadly to vampires, and the King’s entire pitch advocated for the protection of vampires…

And more to the point—why would Muffet tell Edge such a well-guarded secret? Deep down, he knew… she had no intention of letting him live long enough to breath a word of it to anyone outside of this place.

  don’t let fear control you.

  “Let’s forego the small talk and get to the point, shall we?” Edge said, breathing slowly to keep his voice steady. “I owe you money.”

Muffet’s hands stilled on his chest, and she laughed softly. “Oh, dearie, you think this is about money?” Edge frowned, but didn’t reply. “You stole from me, yes, but it was never about money. I was doing you a favour—and now I want you to do me one in return. That’s all.”

“I don’t do favours for you anymore.” Edge shivered when Muffet hooked her fingers beneath his ribs, stroking them lightly. What should have been a pleasant sensation only made his marrow curdle. He may have mistaken the gesture for affection, but Edge knew too well that this was only part of her game. One of her strategies to throw him off kilter, so that she could sculpt him to fulfil her whims.

“But you will,” she said, breathing against his acoustic meatus. “You’ll do this for me.”

“Try me,” Edge hissed through his teeth as she nipped at his shoulder.

They both turned at the sound of creaking hinges. Beneath the underbrush on the other side of the table, a trapdoor swung open, and a Knight Knight emerged. “Miss Muffet—”

“What did I say about interrupting me?” Muffet hissed, pulling back from Edge sharply. He shuddered as her claws raked across his chest.

The Knight Knight looked apprehensive. “My apologies, Miss Muffet. But I have dire news.”

Edge frowned. He recognised that voice…

It struck him. It belonged to the ‘Royal Guard’ he’d made a deal with at the Dusty Planes. The Knight Knights had defected from the Royal Guard to join Muffet’s ranks long ago. Edge cursed himself for being so naïve. Though he’d never intended to uphold his end of the bargain, he’d assumed the Guard had only been in it for the gold (… and the vampire, his mind supplied, grimly). But he’d been playing right into Muffet’s hand.

“Well? What is the news?” Muffet asked impatiently. “Don’t waste my time. My pet is hungry.” Her many eyes flickered to Edge as she spoke.

“The vampire,” the Knight Knight said, “we weren’t able to apprehend it.” She fell silent, the eye at her torso wide and fearful. For a moment, Muffet said nothing, but there was a twitch in her expression. “M-Miss Muffet,” the Knight Knight stammered. “We—I tried. I pursued it all night, but it was too quick. And it could teleport—”

“I would advise you be quicker next time,” Muffet interrupted, inhaling crisply.

The eye at the Knight Knight’s torso blinked. “I—I will. I will, Miss Muffet, I—”

“I would,” Muffet said. “But I’m afraid your service ends here, dearie.”

The Knight Knight’s expression morphed to terror, and Edge figured this was more than just a dismissal. “What? No, please, I—”

Muffet had already turned away from her. “Oh, pet!” she called up to the canopy of trees. “I have a treat for you~”

Edge looked up and froze, a scream catching in his throat as horror rippled down his spine. A great, eight-legged beast was descending from the trees above him. It was at least the size of a horse-drawn carriage, and the bough it hung from groaned beneath its weight. Had it been up there the entire time?

Edge flinched as it landed a few feet away from him with a thud. It chittered happily as Muffet stroked its head. “Are you hungry, pet?” Muffet crooned. She eyed the Knight Knight, who was quaking where she stood. “Just the legs, pet,” Muffet said. “If she can’t catch one vampire, she has no use for them. I release you from my service, dear,” she added, barely glancing at the Knight Knight.

“No,” the Knight Knight choked, already scrambling to open the trapdoor.

“Go on, pet,” Muffet said. “She’s yours.” Her pet lunged forward. The Knight Knight screamed, giving up on the trapdoor and running for the trees. She didn’t make it far. The beast pounced on her and caught her legs in its pincers.

Edge looked away, squeezing his sockets closed. Nothing could block out the sounds, though. The Knight Knight’s wretched gurgles and the wet tearing of flesh. A startled whimper broke out of his throat when he felt Muffet’s delicate fingers on his arm. “Oh, I know, dearie. My pet is a little primitive.” Her voice held fondness. “She doesn’t have the patience to savour her prey and drain the life from it slowly. I’ve been trying to teach her, but…”

Edge stared at her, horrified and disgusted. Yet she smiled. “But come along. You don’t need to see this.” Her words were punctuated by a sickening crunch of armour and bone. Bile rose in Edge’s throat. “Let’s get you inside.”

  Edge might have been able to fight Muffet had she not bound his hands tightly before escorting him out of the garden. But the hopeless reality was that he was trapped here. Her lair was an intricate series of underground passages, guarded at every corner. And even if by some miracle Edge managed to escape, her spies were everywhere. It wouldn’t be long before he was back in her clutches.

He was a fly, caught in her web.

It came as a surprise when Muffet led him into a bedroom, instead of the expected chamber she used to deal with dissidents. Edge had become familiar with the darker corners of Muffet’s web, but never her private space—much less her own elegant quarters.

“What is this?” Edge asked. Something wasn’t right. Suspicion crept down his spine, and his bones tingled with anxious magic.

“We’re here to discuss your favour, dearie,” Muffet told him as she rested him on the bed. He fought her, but she was strong—stronger than even he was. She pinned him down easily and secured his wrists to the headboard with more sticky web. Edge felt on display with nothing but the meagre silk robe web to cover him. Muffet slipped it off his shoulder and her black eyes wandered to his clavicle. The delight in them was hardly restrained.

She crossed the room and opened the dresser. Edge felt his soul plummet as she drew out a knife—his knife. She smiled at him as she turned, running her finger along the flat edge of the blade. “Fine workmanship,” she said. “And pure silver, too. Quite the rarity.”

Edge inhaled, but said nothing, though his fingers itched for his knife.

Amusement danced across Muffet’s expression. “I’ll gladly return it to you, dearie. I understand how precious such a thing must be.” She approached the bedside and placed the knife on the end table. Leaning in, she whispered, “And perhaps I’ll even allow you to kill that creature yourself. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, dearie? After all it’s done to you.” She touched his neck, and Edge felt the bite flaring, like a reminder of the vampire’s presence. Muffet moved her hand away, avoiding the wound.

“Something to drink?” she offered, picking up the jug from the table beside the bed. Edge didn’t answer, but she poured him a glass anyway. “The finest wine,” she told him. “Procured from the King’s very own vineyards.” She pressed the glass to his teeth and he turned his head away. “Drink, dearie. You need to restore your HP.”

Edge knew whatever fight he put up would be futile. But he would fight nonetheless. Though despair had his soul in a tight grip, he pushed the feelings back. There had to be a way out of this—there always was. He couldn’t fight her physically, but maybe he could negotiate.

“You said you wanted me to do you a favour,” he said, choosing his words carefully. He couldn’t give her the upper hand in their negotiation… although, given his compromising position, that was going to prove difficult.

Muffet placed the glass of wine back on its tray, and smiled. “A service would better describe it.”

That hardly boded well. Still, Edge remained impassive. “And what does this service entail?” He wanted to know if this would require getting his hands… dusty. And whose dust it might be. He’d killed for Muffet in the past, but it had taken years to detach himself from those kills. It was not something he’d gladly agree to again—but given his circumstances, he didn’t exactly have options.

xxx

Sour magic rose to Edge’s mouth when Muffet’s lips curled. She saved that smile for things that truly thrilled her. And the ‘things’ that thrilled Muffet seldom escaped without scars. Edge stared, frozen, as she climbed onto the bed and knelt over him. “I remember the days when you served me, dearie,” she said, silkily, running her thumb over his cheekbone. “Those were good days. I want them back.”

Edge was trying very hard not to think about his position—reclined and sprawled on the bed, Muffet kneeling over him like he was one of her toys. It’s just part of her game, he reminded himself. She’s just trying to unsettle you. “One favour,” he said, firmly. “One favour for the items you traded me, nothing more. Then we’re done. For good.” Edge had been stupid to do business with the Spider in the first place. Desperate—but stupid. He wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

Magic soured in his mouth when Muffet’s eyes glinted with excitement. She cupped his skull and leaned down, kissing his teeth. Edge choked, startled. She had toyed with him like this before, but she’d never taken things this far. He could feel her cold tongue pressing against his teeth, demanding entrance. Edge was shaking. He tried to turn his head away to escape her invasive mouth but she had two hands holding his skull in place, and his efforts were futile.

When Muffet pulled away at last, Edge stared at her, horrified. He opened his mouth, trying to find words, but he could only stammer. Muffet laughed lightly, pressing a hand over her mouth—that mouth. Edge’s chest cavity was churning with bile and acidic magic. He felt foul and dirty. He wanted to cleanse his teeth with boiling water. He could feel the remnants of her saliva on his teeth—almost taste it.

Muffet leaned down again and Edge tensed—but instead of kissing him, she pressed her lips against his acoustic meatus. “I think this is a favour we can both enjoy,” she whispered, her tongue flicking against his skull. “Don’t you, dearie?”

Edge shook his head firmly, trembling as she drew away. “No,” he choked. “This isn’t what I agreed to. This is not—”

“Oh, but you did, dearie,” Muffet said, stroking away the tears that beaded at his sockets. “You agreed to do me a favour.”

“Not this.” Edge’s voice barely left his throat, dry and raspy.

“Relax, my sweet Edge,” Muffet purred, pressing her lips to his neck. “I think you’ll find that you quite enjoy yourself—maybe even as much as I do.” She giggled again, and bitter mana trickled into Edge’s mouth.

He lay stiff and unyielding as she licked his vertebrae. Her tongue felt sickly against his neck, wet and unwelcome. She moved down to his clavicle and he suppressed a broken whimper as she began to nip at it, the bites delicate and gentle. Wrong. He could handle beatings, or pain, or even killing nameless monsters. But this was something else entirely. It was intimate. It was personal. And it was being taken away from him.

Edge had never done this with anyone. He’d never trusted anyone enough to reveal this part of himself to them. He’d never been encapsulated by the desire to feel the touch of another monster. Such an act demanded trust, respect… love. Muffet had none of those things. Not from Edge. And here she was, taking it from him.

“Stop,” he growled, even though the word cracked in his throat and emerged broken. “Don’t—” He tried to struggle, kicking his legs and wrenching his arms against the webs that bound them.

A subtle hiss left Muffet’s mouth and she looked up at him, frustrated. “You’re making this very difficult, dearie,” she said, tersely. She moved to straddle Edge’s hips, and he fought her all the way. She easily held him down. “Stop moving,” she warned, pressing four of her arms to his ribcage and hips to keep him still.

“I’m not doing this,” Edge said, trying to inject more vehemence into his voice. “This was not the deal. You can’t—”

“I can.” Muffet sounded almost angry now, though the sweet smile that crossed her face belied her tone. She sighed breezily and threaded her fingers between Edge’s ribs, stroking them delicately. He jerked beneath the touch, and her smile grew. “I love the ones that fight,” she murmured, looking at him fondly. “I love seeing them struggle, clinging to hope no matter how little of it there is. That’s part of why you were always one of my favourites, Edgy dearie. You’re a fighter.”

Edge opened his mouth to retort but was stopped short when Muffet crouched and sunk her fangs into his clavicle. He choked weakly as she moved to his ribs and bit down again. He could feel her venom flowing through him like cold acid. Strangely, he was reminded of the vampire’s venom.

But this was nothing like that. Where the vampire’s bite had left him warm and comfortable and relaxed, this was like a burning river of ice flooding his marrow. It seared through him and made him go stiff. He could feel everything Muffet was doing to him, but his body was rigid and unmovable. If there had been hope of fighting back before, it was now vanquished.

Edge tried to speak but his words were a gurgle in his throat. Muffet sat up and studied him, something almost sympathetic in her eyes. “Oh, sweet Edgy,” she crooned, caressing his jaw. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do that. No matter. You’ll still enjoy yourself.” She slipped the robe off his shoulders and began kissing them. A motionless shudder passed through Edge. He could do nothing.

He lay still. He wanted to close his eyes, to shut off at least one of his senses, but terror kept them open. He stared at the canopy of the bed. Violet silk draped across the bedposts, threaded with silver web. The room was silent, but for Muffet’s quiet hums of satisfaction, and the wet sound of her mouth against Edge’s clavicle.

He felt like a prisoner in his own body, forced to watch as it was violated.

Muffet’s teeth found his neck. She was gentle, running her fingers down his ribs as she nibbled at his vertebrae. Edge felt her hesitate at the bite wounds on his neck, her cold breaths ghosting over the bone—but not touching. She resumed, working her way around the puncture wounds. They flared hot on Edge’s neck, a contrast to the bitter cold of Muffet’s saliva.

“You won’t remember it.”

Edge almost didn’t register the words, until Muffet spoke again. “You won’t remember that creature once we’re finished, dearie. I’ll have it slaughtered for you. I’ll defang it and drive silver into its soul. I’ll scatter its dust over my hemlock. Its taste would hardly be satisfactory for my bakery. I’ll undo what it did to you.” Her fingers wandered delicately over Edge’s neck, avoiding the bite wound. “I’ll make it pay.”

Tears pooled in Edge’s sockets.

be brave, Red had taught him. when faced with a vampire, don’ let yerself show fear. be strong.

But this wasn’t a vampire. This was a mortal monster, and Edge was powerless to stop it from taking what it wanted from him.

You never taught me this, Red, Edge thought. You never taught me that the world has demons worse than vampires.

Edge’s chest lurched sickeningly as Muffet slid the robe away from his legs, exposing his pelvis. He made a final attempt at protesting, trying to struggle out of her grip. His body only twitched.

Muffet purred as she licked his hip, trailing down and biting his tailbone. The stimulation made his hips twitch reflexively and Muffet hummed, smiling at him. “I knew you wanted this, dearie,” she said, lifting her head to stroke his face. “My delicious pet.”

Edge finally closed his eyes as her fingers began to wander his ilium. He ignored the sensations, and the magic that flared through his bones. At his neck, the vampire’s bite tingled warmly. He focused on it, dissociating himself from every other feeling passing through his body.

xxx

Instead, he thought of Rus.

Rus’s fangs on his neck, Rus cradled him his arms as he drank, Rus’s freshly fed golden eyes. Edge’s mind drifted…

… and then, Muffet was gone.

Edge’s sockets snapped open in time to see her being dragged off him. She hissed and clawed at the arms that grasped her, and both she and her assailant toppled to the ground. Muffet sprung to her feet immediately, while the other monster scrambled away—

It was Rus.

Edge felt sick with relief. His chest and throat and soul seized up all at once and the tears in his eyes became ones of joy. A choke escaped him and Rus caught his eye for half a second before Muffet was on him. He stumbled backwards as she shoved him hard against the wall, the plaster cracking beneath the weight of his fall. Though Edge knew it would take silver to kill him, the sight of Rus—delicate, gentle Rus—taking such a heavy physical blow, was jarring.

He’s not hurt. It won’t kill him.

Muffet seemed to realise this too. Her eyes flickered to the Edge’s blade at the bedside, and Rus used her moment of distraction to teleport across the room. Briefly stunned, Muffet spun in search of him, her black eyes glistening with violence. She made a lunge for the knife at the same time as Rus teleported toward it.

Muffet’s fingers closed around it first and she slashed out.

Edge’s breath caught in horror as the knife grazed the air near Rus’s throat. So close. One hit and he’s dead. But Rus was quick. He moved like fire, flickering across the room before Muffet could get near him. Flashes of red magic followed him as he moved. Edge’s magic.

Muffet began to grow frustrated. She hissed and lashed out erratically, the knife narrowly missing Rus each time.

Edge watched them move, like a blur before his eyes. Muffet had strength on her side. Her LV was high—high enough to bolster her physical strength as well as her magical strength. But Rus had speed. He was agile and light on his feet, always just a split second ahead of Muffet.

But he was growing tired. Edge could tell by the pale sheen of sweat that coated his skull, and the way his movements began to lag.

This wasn’t a fight he could win. The realisation struck Edge painfully.

Muffet was on the offensive now, and Rus had nothing to fight back with. Vampires were made to seduce and trick their prey—to out-manoeuvre, not out-muscle. Rus couldn’t win. The dread came creeping back, and Edge’s body twitched, desperate to jump in and protect Rus—to hold him close, keep him safe.

The next swing of the knife caught Rus’s shoulder, tearing his sleeve. A breathless whimper left Edge, and with all his strength, he tried to fight the sedating venom in his bones. His body twitched.

Muffet’s next attack was hard and heavy, and Rus used the moment to unbalance her, knocking one of her legs out from under her. She caught herself before she hit the floor, but the knife fell from her hand and went sliding across the room.

For a second, Rus had the upper hand.

But the move had put him in a vulnerable position—and as she always did, Muffet capitalised. She caught him around the torso with four arms, dragging him against her and pinning him. Rus gasped out a choke as she squeezed his neck, pulling him to the floor and wrapping all eight of her legs around him, strangling any attempts at movement.

Muffet’s expression was strained, but there was a satisfaction beneath it. Her eyes were on Edge as she crushed Rus’s neck, strangling the life out of him, breaking him. This is for you, her eyes said, and bile rose up with Edge’s tears.

He could tell that Rus was trying to struggle, but Muffet’s arms stifled all movement, her grip strong enough to shatter him. Edge heard Rus’s raspy cry of pain before he heard the first bone breaking. Then the second. Muffet locked Edge’s gaze, and smiled.

Stars, had Rus always looked so delicate? So fragile? Edge wanted to look away. He didn’t want to see Rus crumbling so pitifully in Muffet’s grasp. She was going to crush him, break him, destroy him. He was going to die…

Edge closed his eyes…

Then Muffet screamed. It was shrill and ghastly, like a wounded animal caught in a trap. Edge was almost afraid to open his eyes.

He found Muffet writhing on the floor, clutching her wrist. Two puncture wounds pierced her purple skin, which bubbled greyish ichor. Astoundingly, Edge was reminded of the magma pans they’d passed over not two days ago.

Rus had pried himself free of her grip. The same black ooze that spewed from Muffet’s wound clung to his teeth. He scrambled across the floor for the knife. Edge could see the silver hilt cutting into the bone of his hand like a hot iron brand, but he held it firmly. His movements lacked the agility they had before as he crawled back towards Muffet, dragging one leg across the floorboards and leaving a trail of marrow in his wake. His breaths were sharp and hoarse, but there was fury in his eyes.

Though she was still groaning in pain, Muffet fought him back. He aimed the knife at her chest but she caught his wrist, forcing it away. Her bitten arm hung limp at her side, black veins creeping up to her elbow. Rus pressed his other hand onto the knife, the silver scorching his bone as he tried to force the blade down. He was panting with effort, while Muffet hissed and pushed back against him with every available hand she had.

But she was fighting a losing battle against gravity and the toxic venom that was quickly spreading up her arm and towards her soul. With a final strained cry, she slumped, and the knife sunk into her chest with a chilling wet crunch. All her eyes widened at once, then glazed over. Her body went limp.

Edge could feel movement returning to his limbs. They trembled when he tried to lift himself. He managed to crawl to the edge of the bed, tumbling onto the floor, ungainly.

Rus was staring down at Muffet, still clutching the knife, even as his hands burned. “R…s…” Edge tried to say, but his throat was closed. Rus didn’t hear him, his eyes still trained on Muffet. He slowly pulled the knife out. It trembled in his hands. Tears stained his face, and he released a choked breath before driving the knife back into Muffet’s chest.

“you have one life,” he sobbed, slamming the knife in again. “one life, and this is what you do with it.”

“Rus,” Edge said desperately, dragging himself across the floor, his body still only half-mobile.

Rus plunged the knife into Muffet’s chest, over and over, whimpering. “you monster. you sick, fucked up—”

“Rus.” Edge caught his wrist and Rus stopped, looking at him sharply. He was covered in black ichor—and dust. There was fire in his eyes. They burned amber, almost red. Every drop of sweet gold was gone from them. “It’s okay,” Edge whispered, gently cupping his hands. “I’m here. It’s okay…”

Rus allowed Edge to pry the knife from his hands. The bone beneath was charred. Edge placed the knife on the floor and looked at Rus. “you’re alive,” Rus said, simply. Edge nodded. Rus’s expression was tremulous, fresh reddened tears pooling in his sockets.

“I’m okay,” Edge whispered.

“i—”

“Rus.” Edge cupped his face with a shaking hand, fighting the venom in his system to keep himself upright. “You’re here. You came back.”

“i tried to… edge, i almost—”

“I’m alive,” Edge said, firmly. “And you’re here. Nothing else matters.”

Breath hitching, Rus crumpled into Edge’s arms, burying his head against his chest. Edge closed his eyes and cradled him close, warmth pulsing through him. It was like inhaling the fresh air after years of holding his breath. Finally, he could hold Rus.

[countryole]

Sonyas death was so brutal and devastating. I am definitely hoping there's something else to it and she's not actually gone. But I thought it was so beautifully gut wrenching that when she "died" her power just left her body. Also, the angst addict in me is hoping for some close call with Lorna and Marcos nearly having a heart attack about it, whether or not there's actual injuries, can you imagine hearing the pain and terror in his voice if something did happen!

Totally agree about Sonya, while I think the writers could choose to bring her back if they wanted to, it appears that her death was supposed to be pretty finite, and devastating. I also loved that little detail, as much as it broke my heart, I think it signified that Sonya was really gone. And yessss all the Eclaris angst, I am 1000% on board for it.

NOW, I want to take this moment to also say, after seeing some unrest in the fandom, that people need to calm the fuck down on both sides of the Sonia argument. I am a huge Sonya fan, I loved her, and still love her. But guess what, I love Blink too! While I don’t agree with Sonya’s death, or the fact (as Emma Dumont so poetically said in the podcast I shared earlier) that women on television in general get used as “accessories to men”, I am still intelligent and mature enough to realize why the writers decided to go down that path. I can see beyond their faults, and my personal preference, in choosing to take the story that way. 

Sonya’s death WAS devastating, not just on a personal level for viewers, or as a female character who deserved  better, but as a character who is in a universe where death is almost a certainty if you get caught. It was horrible. It was SUPPOSED to be. I was viscerally upset. I mean damn y’all, Blink was beside herself. 

Will I always advocate that female characters get treated better than a man pain, unnecessary death at the hands of white men? You fuckin betcha. Is it ok for y’all to be mad?! OF COURSE. But guys, that’s the point!! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE UPSET. YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE REPULSED.

Do I realize that her pointless death was kind of the point; that she died for nothing, because that is the brutally fucked up world that The Gifted operates in? Do I realize that they are trying to make a point by shocking us, by making us think about unfair, unrighteous actions against people? YES. Look at the world we live in y’all, the writers and actors have told us multiple times that they are not sugar coating The Gifted universe, or the way it scarily parallels modern times. Am I going to stop watching this brilliantly written, amazingly cast show because I’m mad? Nah bro, I am too old for that petty shit. The Gifted is too good, and delivers a message that is too important for modern times. Sonya will always be my girl, and she will continue to be alive and well in my fics, and I will continue to watch this show because I love it. I will continue to support the writers and actors because they are doing important work.

This rant sponsored by a venti cold brew coffee and five hours of sleep. I love ya gifted fam. xo

[poedays]

This is Sugar’s song:

“Forever young, I want to be forever young // Do you really want to live forever? // Forever, and ever

Forever young, I want to be forever young // Do you really want to live forever? // Forever young.”

[kdinthecity]

Zutara Week 2017: Confessions of a Teenage Sugar Queen

The title is a throwback to a movie I liked when I was in high school, so that is the voice I’ve chosen for this AU. (Not Lindsay Lohan’s from the movie, just me trying to channel my inner teenage Katara...)

All of my @zutaraweek submissions will be part of one continuous story. Get ready for some slow-burn Zutara angst starting with Day One: Fire Lady.

“I can’t wait until summer!” A blur of orange brushes past me in the school hallway. “I’m gonna go hang gliding and kite surfing and eat ice cream for breakfast and donuts for lunch!”

That would be Aang. He lives with his head in the clouds on most days.

“Let me guess. Cream puffs for dinner, Twinkletoes?”

Toph is pretty solid for a freshman. She keeps Aang grounded when he starts to get too flighty. I like hanging out with them, but sometimes their immaturity annoys me. I can tell this is one of those moments. No one can eat dessert all day. Talk about a serious sugar crash.

“What about you, Sugar Queen?” Toph asks.

I don’t know why she calls me that. OK, maybe I suggested once that I could survive solely on fudgsicles and moon pies, but that was only after that bad breakup with Jet. Toph elbows me hard in the ribs, her usual gesture for getting my attention.

“Oww! I have plans this summer, alright? I can’t just goof off. I’m going to get a job and do something that matters for my future!” I hate how haughty that sounds, but I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. I hurry past them before I say anything I might regret.

“Geez, what’s with her?” Toph mutters. Aang sighs airily in response.

They just don’t get it.

I’m the only sophomore to participate in the school’s summer internship fair this year. My brother calls me crazy. Well, I think he’s crazy because as a junior, it’s his last opportunity to gain this experience for college applications. Yet, he’s blowing it off to go fishing in Alaska with Dad. Maybe Sokka will end up taking over the family business, but I know he’d rather pursue engineering than commercial fishing.

The truth is, Dad cannot provide for our college tuition with his income. Sokka doesn’t think about these things, but I do. I’m getting an internship this summer so I can help pay for stuff like clothes and school lunches. And then hopefully I’ll get a scholarship for a top tier school like Atlas University. I will not be a burden to anyone.

“But what do you mean I can’t get any of the paid internships?” I am nearly in tears as I approach Principal Pakku.

“I’m sorry, Katara, but you’re under the legal working age. You can apply for one of the volunteer positions.”

“I’m a hard worker! And a straight A student!” I want to add that I’d do a better job than half the junior class.

He folds his arms across his chest. “Rules are rules.”

The pale blue of his suit starts to blur in my vision, and my bottom lip trembles, but I refuse to cry in front of this man. “But I'm turning 16 this summer!” My birthday is actually at the end of August. Had I not gone to Montessori kindergarten, I would be an entire grade younger according to the age cutoff for public school.

Ms. Yugoda, the school nurse, senses my distress. “Katara, sweetheart, it will still look good on your college applications, and it will help you land a top notch internship for next year. You still have time.”

“But, I need… the experience.” I will not beg for money.

“There’s nothing I can do.” Principal Pakku claps his hands and rubs them together as if that settles the matter. “I’ll put in a good word for you. How about… the zoo?”

I brush the back of my sleeve across dampened cheeks and stomp my foot. “I do not want to be scooping up ostrich-horse shit all summer!”

The principal’s expression is scolding, but I can’t stand the look of pity Ms. Yugoda is giving me right now. Before I have a chance to apologize for my outburst, Ty Lee sweeps in from the adjoining door that leads to the nurse’s office.

She hooks a bandaged arm through my elbow and escorts me out into the hallway. “What’s an ostrich horse? Sounds… magical!”

Her high-pitched giggle grates on my last nerve. An ostrich horse happens to be an imaginary animal from this fictional world I created. Sometimes I write about characters with amazing abilities to bend the elements. For me, I've always wanted to control water—like command the waves, summon the tides. My earliest memories are of Mom at the beach, so…

“Katara?” The knitted brow and slight frown look out of place on Ty Lee.

“Sorry.”

“You can always join the circus with me!”

“Right.”

I should have asked her what happened to her arm, but apparently I am too self-absorbed today to care about my friends.

“The Marine Science Center has a few openings. Here, take a brochure and see if anything interests you. We are a non-profit organization, so we can’t pay our interns unfortunately, but sometimes our students come back to work for us after they graduate.” The woman has an almost ethereal look about her.

“So… I wouldn’t be cleaning up seal sh—poop? I mean, it’s OK. I just don’t want to do that the whole time.” I cringe, but she smiles.

“No, no. That’s not really a valuable learning experience, is it? I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Yue.”

“Katara. Nice to meet you.”

“So, we have a position that works with the medical staff. Most of the marine animals we treat are sick or injured, so we nurse them back to health, tag them, and set them free. Another position studies the water, looking for contaminants and identifying potential threats, like factory pollution, for example. Then, you can work on a government petition to shut those facilities down or enforce environmental safety regulations. And lastly, we have a group that goes to schools, summer camps, and museums to talk about all these things.”

I skim my fingers across the panels of the tri-fold brochure as she speaks. Rehabilitate. Advocate. Educate. I always swore I would never go into fishing, but this is different. I care about the environment. I even organized a beach cleanup day as a community service event for the honor society. (This is how I know the juniors are lazy dipshits.) And I want to be either a professor or a doctor when I grow up, so the experience would be relevant. I take an application, give her my best smile, and express my sincere interest in the positions.

I sign up for a few other things before deciding I’m done. There isn’t much interest in the unpaid internships, and my eyes are drawn to the crowd on the other side of the gym. The largest group gathers at the table for Future Fire Technology. I've heard quite a bit about the company because the CEO’s daughter is in the honor’s track with me. Azula talks nonstop about how the former weapons company has rebranded and now manufactures cutting edge robotics. I couldn’t care less.

Azula will undoubtedly secure a position at her father’s company for the summer. She’s ambitious like that. Her brother, Zuko, will likely work there, too. He strikes me as different somehow—not really the corporate type. He’s not one of the half-assed juniors, though. He’s still pretty intense. I’m a little intrigued by him, but Sokka warns me to leave him be. Well, Sokka can’t tell me who I can and cannot talk to… I just wish I could get up the nerve to… oh monkeyfeathers!

“There aren’t many sophomores here, y’know,” a voice rasps. Zuko is standing right here. Talking to me. Sokka says he never talks to anyone.

“I, uhhh…” I want to slap my forehead for being such a blubbering idiot.

“I saw you at the Marine Science Center table. Sounds cool, huh?”

He was… watching me? The pink that rises to his cheeks would indicate that yes... yes, he was. I'm dying to ask about that mysterious scar across his left eye, but I guess that won’t make the best first impression.

“Katara,” I say.

“What?” he asks, his single brow raised in confusion.

“I’m Katara.” I hold out my hand like a dork.

“Oh, right. Sorry. Zuko.”

We are now shaking hands. Like dorks.

“And yes.” I clear my throat. “The Marine Science Center looks cool. I hope I get it.”

The results are posted the following week. With everyone crowded around the bulletin board outside the gym, it feels like we’re clamoring to see who’s made the basketball team or the cheerleading squad. I’m the only sophomore and of average height, so it takes me a while to wiggle my way to the front so I can see.

There are three names listed for the Marine Science Center.

Me! I got the position I wanted!

Then, Hahn. I don’t really know him, only that Sokka hates him, which should be interesting.

And… Zuko?

I scan the crowd for his unmistakable face, but he’s nowhere to be found. I can’t help but notice the red-clad crew off to the right, however. Azula, Ty Lee, and Mai are all on our school’s beach volleyball team. Either they just came from practice, are headed to a game, or just want an excuse to wear their uniform. Two seniors, Ruon Jion and Chan, hover nearby, enjoying the view. Ty Lee offers a shy wave when she catches my eye.

“Congrats to the newest Future Fire Lady!” Azula salutes Mai.

The dark-haired girl simply huffs. “But Zuko won’t be there. He got some stupid job at a water park.”

I fight the urge to march right up to her and emphasize how respectable and meaningful the Marine Science Center internship is, but the look on Ty Lee’s face stops me. Her bottom lip protrudes in a full-on pout, and I remember that she told me about Mai’s childhood crush. Apparently it is one-sided, and everyone wishes she would just get over it. Mai's scowl confirms that I should let it go.

“Of course Father wouldn’t give him a job after the equipment malfunction last year.” Everything Azula says comes out like a sneer. “He’s such a disgrace to the family. We need someone who is competent and level-headed in the company, Mai. Not lovesick and forlorn. Should I retract my recommendation I made to Father?”

Even though she’s shaking her head, I swear I hear Mai mumble bitch under her breath. For some reason, I am mesmerized by the exchange. The crowd finally thins out as everyone heads to class. With only two weeks left of school, the summer will be here before we know it. And I will be nursing injured seals back to health with Zuko?

Toph nudges me with her elbow. “Hey Sugar Queen. Watch your back, will ya?”

“What? Why?”

She’s gone before I can ask what the hell she’s talking about.

Chapter Two: Underwater  |  Chapter Three: Steamy

Chapter Four: The Fall

[lionwall08-blog]

Low-Carb Diets Shorten Lifespan: Ketogenic Fans Should Celebrate (Or: Where Has Kiefer Been?)

I

magine the horror of waking from years in a coma to find the world embroiled in the same war, each side racking up casualties with neither side admitting it. That’s what the last couple of years have felt like for me. With the recent passing of Charles Poliquin, a friend and respected colleague (even though we disagreed about a lot, we were always respectful to each other’s ideas when we talked) I decided it was time to come back to the fray. Of course, the timing couldn’t be more critical…

Eating a low-carb diet shortens your lifespan. (It’s on the BBC’s website, so it must be true.)

Some already rejoice and revel in these findings: their careers spent telling people to eat less fat are safe, their academic positions secured, their textbooks will enter another printing cycle and the vast panoply of pharmaceuticals will continue to flow. Of course, there’s also the ability to say, “I told you so.”

For others, however, this could be a death knell, bringing their nascent careers as diet gurus, internet celebrities and snake oil peddlers to a screeching halt.

Me: I completely agree with the results of the paper, plain and simple; I even expected it (but I thoroughly suggest you read on).

Many preaching the low-carb sermon tend to crouch into the familiar last-stand posture—ticks digging in for a few more drops of blood—when papers like this appear. They’re quick to attack, picking it apart piece by piece, layer by layer, attempting to demonstrate the flaw in the statistics, in the logic, in the procedures, in the data or find any blemish to tarnish the credibility of the results.

And don’t worry, they won’t fail to remind us ad nauseam that correlations do not show causation (which, incidentally, is the most accurate criticism one can heave at these types of reports, but the implication of causation originates more from the poor quality of journalism and less from the researchers).

What ideologies are in peril, you may ask: Paleo, low- and no-sugar hypotheses, some variants of intermittent fasting and anyone dogmatic about the insulin hypothesis. All these philosophies can allow dietary carbohydrates into the range that the study found correlated with shorter lifespan. The results cast quite a blight on the insulin hypothesis which relies on the argument that insulin is the root of all evil, and as such, the total amount of carbs in the diet must correlate to lifespan and health. Those on the fundamentalist side of the insulin hypothesis—like Dr. Jason Fung—should take a moment to reassess their philosophy. My guess is they won’t.

My attitude about the whole thing might seem cavalier, and rebel-rousing polemics (I’m trying to be nice and not say ‘idiots’) might say I’m claiming that my own diets don’t work anymore. Neither is true.

Statistical observational data analyses (SODAs) like these embolden me because they strengthen my new model of human health, disease and performance. Don’t worry: Carb Nite® and Carb Backloading™ still form the cornerstone of my work, but I synthesized them into a single consistent theory that points to CNS and CBL as ideal diets (on a spectrum of “ideal” depending on your lifestyle and an “ideal” that I can now clearly define). My latest work also gives me the ability to predict and explain nearly every SODA …even the ones that seem to contradict CNS and CBL. Once I release the book, anyone can look at a new diet fad, like Paleo or vegan, and know what the short term benefits might be and also the long term consequences…like dying early.

Why isn’t everyone else excited?

Ketogenic proponents, despite their angst, should be ecstatic. This particular SODA shows that taking carbohydrates down to 40% still isn’t healthy. The diet needs to contain less than 40% (at least) and ketogenic diets require somewhere in the range of 0 to 6% of calories from usable carbohydrates (remember, every carbohydrate except fiber is a usable carbohydrate). The SODA also showed correlations between shorter lifespan and very high carbohydrate intake. Again, more support.

For me, I’ve come to the conclusion that all data needs to be explained. Enough SODAs reveal this negative correlation between health and low-carb diets (defined as a diet with 40% of calories from carbohydrates) that we should view the result as fact. If carbohydrates comprise around 40% your diet, then your health is at risk. At the very least, we have an upper bound on the level of carbohydrates that one should allow in their diet. This level (40%) can be shown to be too high, but this particular SODA doesn’t say anything useful about the matter—good or bad.

From the perspective of a ketogenic diet, this SODA is a boon. It says nothing negative about ketogenic diets and adds support (incidentally, I am still not an advocate of ketogenic diets). So why is my inbox flooded with emails from my Low-Carb Research Google Group trashing this particular SODA, a call to demolish it and its authors?

I alluded to the answer above with my choice of words. Nearly every one of my contemporaries (particularly those with a public platform) base their dietary views on a philosophy, an ideology or a fairy tale. Although they take their story as fact, it is not; it’s a story and one that’s best suited for study in a field known as Narrative Research instead of molecular biology, cellular dynamics, endocrinology, biothermodynamics or chronobiology. Terms like “evolutionary (ancestral)” and even “evidence based” hide a soft underbelly of assumptions which no one can justify within any framework resembling science. Their only defense is to attack. Why worry about the deplorable shape of your own house when you can be busy burning down everyone else’s?

This problem worries me on a fundamental level. Without a serious attempt to create a verifiable framework underlying the workings of the human body, society will proceed as it has, getting sicker, requiring more pharmaceuticals, costing more in healthcare and leaving people tired, sick and bereft of joy. I’ve talked with thousands of people from across the world and most of them admit to giving up. They’re paralyzed by confusion. There’s also no shortage of complaint about all their hard-earned income being wasted on seaweed extract, kale smoothies and crystalline vaginal eggs.

So for those of you who want to know why I disappeared, the reason is simple: I have been doing the work you paid me to do. I wanted to continue the serious work that would lead EVERYONE to success, no matter how they defined it: fat loss, athletic performance, health, enhanced cognition, getting off medications or just feeling well enough to chase after their children on the weekends.

And to understand any of it, you have to understand all of it. That understanding requires a lifetime of dedication and an insane amount of experience. You can’t get a Ph.D. based on lab work exploring mitochondrial function and suddenly decide to give performance advice to elite level athletes (that would be stupid). But by the same token, you can’t fully understand the implications of mitochondrial function if you don’t know how the body of an elite level athlete works.

I set out to incorporate the entire landscape of human performance and disease into a single theoretical and verifiable model. It was no small task. But respect for my audience and my own sense of integrity forced me to attempt nothing less (also: impossible problems are the only ones worth solving).

When I read my first journal article 28 years ago (yes, I’ve been doing this for that long), I was clueless about the path I started on, but here I am. I have all of you to thank for it. I won’t disappoint.

I think it’s time for us all to be able to wake from this nightmarish war of words and competing fairy tales to a world where the word “health” is no longer a mask on the face of ignorance, ego and an accelerating march toward disease. I hope you’ll join me on this journey.

P.S. It’s good to be back.

Source: https://body.io/low-carb-diets-shorten-lifespan-ketogenic-fans-should-celebrate-or-where-has-kiefer-been/

[bisoroblog]

Drowning In Parenting Advice? Here’s Some Advice For That

At my baby’s six-month appointment a few months back, I got a one-pager from the pediatrician titled “Starting Solid Foods.”

“It is critical that the baby develop a taste for rice cereal at the beginning, to offset the loss of iron from formula or breast milk,” it reads.

Sounds serious. Then come the all caps: “THE FIRST TWO WEEKS OF FEEDING GIVE RICE CEREAL ONLY.” That is followed by advice to introduce pureed vegetables before fruits so the baby doesn’t develop a sweet tooth.

I obediently went out and bought some sand-textured baby cereal. (Organic, of course.)

“Oh no, we’re not doing that.” My spouse pointed me to a parenting book we had on the shelf.

“There’s no need for cereals alone; they are bland and bulky and their iron benefits are overstated,” it reads. “The idea that you should introduce vegetables before fruits to avoid creating a sweet tooth is just an unfounded myth. A carrot has virtually the same amount of sugar as an apple.”

Welcome to early parenthood’s barrage of contradictory advice. It tends to be detailed, with convincing internal logic. “Studies” are often invoked. And the stakes feel so high — like, if I do this wrong, will my baby be malnourished or end up a picky eater or not succeed in life somehow?

Enter Brown University economics professor Emily Oster and her new book, Cribsheet: A Data-Driven Guide to Better, More Relaxed Parenting, From Birth to Preschool. It’s the follow-up to her first book, Expecting Better, a deep look at the data behind pregnancy advice, which has a bit of a cult following. (I am in this cult.)

In her new book, Oster ticks through big and small parenting dilemmas. She uses her training as an economist to look at the relevant research for each of them and to assess how much stock we should put in the findings.

“What I do in the book is actually try to comb through these studies and figure out which of them are giving us the best information,” Oster says. “So then you can make these choices having the best information, not just the first thing that comes up when you Google it at 3 o’clock in the morning.”

OK, so what about my solid-food dilemma? Yea or nay on rice cereal? Veggies first?

“It turns out there isn’t any evidence to suggest that is a particularly important way to introduce foods or not,” she says.

The answer to this one: You do you. Keep the food mushy, and don’t stress about it too much.

This wasn’t my only point of confusion that this book cleared up, even though I’m nearly four years into parenthood. Here are a few of my personal takeaways.

Nipple confusion is not a thing — you don’t need to wait three weeks after birth to give a pacifier or bottle. (This makes me feel better about giving my firstborn a pacifier on day two.)

Baby milestones have a wide normal range, so don’t obsess. (Still vaguely worried that by nine months my baby should be clapping.)

Breastfeeding does not help mom lose weight. (Crushed.)

A lot of the other takeaways are kind of nuanced. They don’t give you a clear-cut answer, so much as information to help you make your own decision. One reason for that is designing a good study of the risks and benefits of a parenting decision is really hard.

Take, for example, Chapter 4: “Breast Is Best? Breast Is Better? Breast Is About the Same?” Oster provides a path through the maze of conflicting advice by sifting out the convincing studies from the questionable ones.

“Most of the studies on this are done by comparing the kids whose moms breastfeed to the kids whose moms don’t,” Oster says. “The issue with that is that the kind of moms who breastfeed are different than the moms who don’t, on average. So, in the U.S. in particular, moms who breastfeed tend to be better educated, higher income, more likely to be married.”

(It’s unclear why that demographic breastfeeds more, Oster says, but the timing for the trend is connected to the public health push away from formula that began in the 1970s.)

Now, let’s say you want to find out the impact of breastfeeding — and not of these demographic differences — on things like IQ and obesity.

“When we narrow in on some studies that are better — like, for example, studies that compare siblings, where one sibling is breastfed and one sibling is not — those studies do not show the same kinds of impacts on long-term things like obesity or IQ,” Oster says.

For the record, she found that there are some health benefits to breastfeeding, but they’re more limited than the hype. If it works for you and your family, Oster concludes, great; if not, formula is a good option.

So, even if you’ve made a decision about how to introduce solids and whether to breastfeed or bottle-feed, there are so many other ones to make! What about baby nap schedules, how to potty train or the financial impact of choosing a nanny versus day care versus staying at home?

As an economist, Oster advocates for taking some of the angst out of it.

When making a parenting decision, she says, “Step one is to kind of really figure out what the best evidence says about the choice.” Look for randomized studies and big sample sizes.

“But then there’s a really important second step, which is to combine that with what is going to work for your family,” she says.

For instance, when she first brought her baby daughter home, she knew the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that your baby sleep in your room, ideally for the whole first year, as part of its safe infant sleeping environment guidance.

“My husband did one day with our older daughter, and he was like, ‘I can’t believe it’s making those noises.’ He just couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t sleep,” she says. Room sharing for a full year was just not workable for her family.

With Cribsheet, Oster is trying to make parents less confused, more confident in their choices and less judgmental of other parents who make different choices. Reading the book makes that feel surprisingly achievable. Laying out the research really strips these decisions of their drama, and you end up wondering why it all felt so overwhelming in the first place.

When the time came to break out the solid foods with my baby, we did mashed sweet potato. A few months into it, emboldened by Oster’s book, we’ve gotten adventurous: This weekend at our Seder, baby even had a bit of brisket smushed up with horseradish.

Copyright 2019 NPR. To see more, visit https://www.npr.org.

Drowning In Parenting Advice? Here’s Some Advice For That published first on https://dlbusinessnow.tumblr.com/

[perfectzablog]

Drowning In Parenting Advice? Here’s Some Advice For That

At my baby’s six-month appointment a few months back, I got a one-pager from the pediatrician titled “Starting Solid Foods.”

“It is critical that the baby develop a taste for rice cereal at the beginning, to offset the loss of iron from formula or breast milk,” it reads.

Sounds serious. Then come the all caps: “THE FIRST TWO WEEKS OF FEEDING GIVE RICE CEREAL ONLY.” That is followed by advice to introduce pureed vegetables before fruits so the baby doesn’t develop a sweet tooth.

I obediently went out and bought some sand-textured baby cereal. (Organic, of course.)

“Oh no, we’re not doing that.” My spouse pointed me to a parenting book we had on the shelf.

“There’s no need for cereals alone; they are bland and bulky and their iron benefits are overstated,” it reads. “The idea that you should introduce vegetables before fruits to avoid creating a sweet tooth is just an unfounded myth. A carrot has virtually the same amount of sugar as an apple.”

Welcome to early parenthood’s barrage of contradictory advice. It tends to be detailed, with convincing internal logic. “Studies” are often invoked. And the stakes feel so high — like, if I do this wrong, will my baby be malnourished or end up a picky eater or not succeed in life somehow?

Enter Brown University economics professor Emily Oster and her new book, Cribsheet: A Data-Driven Guide to Better, More Relaxed Parenting, From Birth to Preschool. It’s the follow-up to her first book, Expecting Better, a deep look at the data behind pregnancy advice, which has a bit of a cult following. (I am in this cult.)

In her new book, Oster ticks through big and small parenting dilemmas. She uses her training as an economist to look at the relevant research for each of them and to assess how much stock we should put in the findings.

“What I do in the book is actually try to comb through these studies and figure out which of them are giving us the best information,” Oster says. “So then you can make these choices having the best information, not just the first thing that comes up when you Google it at 3 o’clock in the morning.”

OK, so what about my solid-food dilemma? Yea or nay on rice cereal? Veggies first?

“It turns out there isn’t any evidence to suggest that is a particularly important way to introduce foods or not,” she says.

The answer to this one: You do you. Keep the food mushy, and don’t stress about it too much.

This wasn’t my only point of confusion that this book cleared up, even though I’m nearly four years into parenthood. Here are a few of my personal takeaways.

Nipple confusion is not a thing — you don’t need to wait three weeks after birth to give a pacifier or bottle. (This makes me feel better about giving my firstborn a pacifier on day two.)

Baby milestones have a wide normal range, so don’t obsess. (Still vaguely worried that by nine months my baby should be clapping.)

Breastfeeding does not help mom lose weight. (Crushed.)

A lot of the other takeaways are kind of nuanced. They don’t give you a clear-cut answer, so much as information to help you make your own decision. One reason for that is designing a good study of the risks and benefits of a parenting decision is really hard.

Take, for example, Chapter 4: “Breast Is Best? Breast Is Better? Breast Is About the Same?” Oster provides a path through the maze of conflicting advice by sifting out the convincing studies from the questionable ones.

“Most of the studies on this are done by comparing the kids whose moms breastfeed to the kids whose moms don’t,” Oster says. “The issue with that is that the kind of moms who breastfeed are different than the moms who don’t, on average. So, in the U.S. in particular, moms who breastfeed tend to be better educated, higher income, more likely to be married.”

(It’s unclear why that demographic breastfeeds more, Oster says, but the timing for the trend is connected to the public health push away from formula that began in the 1970s.)

Now, let’s say you want to find out the impact of breastfeeding — and not of these demographic differences — on things like IQ and obesity.

“When we narrow in on some studies that are better — like, for example, studies that compare siblings, where one sibling is breastfed and one sibling is not — those studies do not show the same kinds of impacts on long-term things like obesity or IQ,” Oster says.

For the record, she found that there are some health benefits to breastfeeding, but they’re more limited than the hype. If it works for you and your family, Oster concludes, great; if not, formula is a good option.

So, even if you’ve made a decision about how to introduce solids and whether to breastfeed or bottle-feed, there are so many other ones to make! What about baby nap schedules, how to potty train or the financial impact of choosing a nanny versus day care versus staying at home?

As an economist, Oster advocates for taking some of the angst out of it.

When making a parenting decision, she says, “Step one is to kind of really figure out what the best evidence says about the choice.” Look for randomized studies and big sample sizes.

“But then there’s a really important second step, which is to combine that with what is going to work for your family,” she says.

For instance, when she first brought her baby daughter home, she knew the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that your baby sleep in your room, ideally for the whole first year, as part of its safe infant sleeping environment guidance.

“My husband did one day with our older daughter, and he was like, ‘I can’t believe it’s making those noises.’ He just couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t sleep,” she says. Room sharing for a full year was just not workable for her family.

With Cribsheet, Oster is trying to make parents less confused, more confident in their choices and less judgmental of other parents who make different choices. Reading the book makes that feel surprisingly achievable. Laying out the research really strips these decisions of their drama, and you end up wondering why it all felt so overwhelming in the first place.

When the time came to break out the solid foods with my baby, we did mashed sweet potato. A few months into it, emboldened by Oster’s book, we’ve gotten adventurous: This weekend at our Seder, baby even had a bit of brisket smushed up with horseradish.

Copyright 2019 NPR. To see more, visit https://www.npr.org.

Drowning In Parenting Advice? Here’s Some Advice For That published first on https://greatpricecourse.tumblr.com/

[mbrl]

a giant update!

 posted first here bc yolo

roadmap-

the stuff i bought from forever 21 today c:

other stuff i did today!

closing the chapter to january (the worst month i’ve had to deal with for awhile?)

things i look forward to in the future: march, april, may, summer.

oh my god i got really cute things from forever 21!! finally ordered a white/light grey windbreaker with swordfish pattern all over it for $20. also got white dolphin shorts (like dolphin style, not literal dolphins) with rainbow stripes on the side. and a dark-ish pink/blush off the shoulder dress with ties on the arm.. it’s kind of weird but was on sale for valentines day & idk how off the shoulder styles look on me... we’ll see ig! it’s really cute and flowy. and another dress, but maroon and long sleeve and floral, kind of in a baby doll fit. it’s lowkey mockneck so the reviews are like help i can’t fit my head through but .. hopefully it fits! there’s some really small lace parts on the sleeve :). and a white flowy vneck top with a bunch of pink flowers on it and a tie in the front. bell-ish sleeves with lace on the upper shoulders and parts of the back! oo and a light weight grey hoodie with kinda cheesy but still cool cool-toned floral embroidery on the hood. it’s p unique but the quality probably sucks and isn’t soft. lastly a peach mid-maxi skirt that has some sheer parts for the bottom half!! it’s like those ballet rehearsal skirts style. 

okay clearly i really like dresses and i think i’m going to start wearing more pink/color because i’m totally over winter in general and how drab that season is. honestly just light warm colors that kind of are reminiscent of furniture fabric/granny aesthetic is totally my vibe. like i want to look like i don’t give a fuck, but not in an emo way but more in a.... idk. i actually don’t know how to explicate my vibe but its like laid back and californian and whatever. hypebeast/grandma/passionate napper/hiker/couch appearance :) also i’m really happy to just sorta word dump and get my thoughts out again because they’re finally good vibes and i feel super excited to share it with my ... laptop screen & whoever’s reading! like getting outta funks is so nice and lowkey reminiscent of a few months ago when i finally got over this stupid boy

anyway okay. today i woke up at 9-10ish because i slept at 3am yesterday :( i felt really weird (ig you can describe as anxious) because of something i did, and i tried to do that thing where i imagined trump spouting all the self hate/angsty vibes i was telling myself, but i didn’t really purge the angst all that much. also i had taken a nap after school + drank boba the day before... (and 2 days before then i slept at 2 bc i had half a cup of green tea in the evening...) also i got angry at myself that i couldn’t sleep because it’s just annoying. it’s 12 am right now and i didn’t take any naps today but i’ll definitely be content & ready to sleep after i right this. so after i woke up, i spent like a few hours cleaning out my room-- i fixed the organization of my desk drawers so it could be more efficient and less cluttered. also the night before when i couldn’t sleep, i hung up all my clothes so that was nice. then in the early afternoon, i finished math hw (literally had 2 problems left, one of which i didn’t know how to do....) and did some japan bowl studying! i also started chatting hella people to ask for interest regarding a possible speaker event that intersections (my social justice club) is hosting... it’s about asian american health disparities, so i got 9 total clubs interested??? now i gotta email the presenter to update them but i’ll do that tomorrow. then from 3-5pm i had a really fun japan bowl meeting that was super untoxic and just productive. this year we have less frequent meetings, but i think we spend the biweekly meetings with... healthier vibes. it’s a lot more fun, and honestly no amount of shame expedites self-studying better than just having a safe and nice environment. we did some practice rounds & i knew the answers to some questions!!! it was fun. i’ll definitely be studying more ahahah this week’s meeting was kind of a throw away but it was good bonding? we also did reading practice.

then i went on tumblr/online shopped/youtubed for 2 hours or smtg..then finished bio hw (3 sections of notes!!!!) while watching gaming streams after eating dinner. then chilled and took a shower, went on tumblr some more, and here i am now! i feel like i didn’t do much but whatever. it’s okay to be leisurely and like.. i just have a worksheet for aplac and a few emails to write tmrw, and i guess that’s it? chill weekend.

okay queue the giant cbt paragraphs:

january was a giant mess mainly because of tasp application... it’s hard for me to take the experiences that i know are invaluable in building my character, and trying to relay that in a effective, understandable way. it made me feel secure because it was almost like i was selling myself/commodifying my experiences, but i was doing it in the course of a 3-4 weeks. it was annoying when i got the diction and syntax just how i wanted it, only for my editor to be like no this is weird. it’s weird to have someone who doesn’t know you try to word your experiences and push you into a template. thank god said editor actually got fired and isn’t my college counselor-- now i have this really tall and goofy friendly white guy (who majored in sociology so you can imagine he’s not the typical yt).

another thing was just friend stuff, but not in a way that points a finger specifically to anyone, it’s just... junior year will literally suck the life out of people and push them to extremes. for me, when i needed support from my friends, it’s not like i could receive it-- partly this is just normal though because normally i don’t confide in them anyway because my life is pretty easy anyway. most of the time/100% of the time i’m initiating the how-are-you type thing and listening to rants and giving advice or playing devil’s advocate or trying to empathize and validate. and when i needed someone to do that for me, i didn’t know how to ask for it? and my friends wouldn’t have the capacity to care for me bc i don’t think they actually know the background of my problems that well. i mean only i really know that and that’s fine bc it’s not really practical for other people to take the time to (1) understand and, (2) care... also it’s not worth it to me to expend the emotional labor explaining to someone. so this really isn’t to sound self sacrificing, it’s just that i consciously don’t expect my friends to be my therapist, but since i have amateur skills & pretty decent emotional intelligence, i’m glad to take that role for my friends. this just blows up in my face every once in awhile when my own problems resurface or smtg and i just turn inward and whatever. thank god it’s over!!! that was basically my january.

someone i kinda know also had something really egregious happen to them. and i can’t talk about it bc i’m making this post public bc i want a record of this on my studyblr blog. anyway i was alone in helping this person with the egregious thing because it’s not the kind of thing i can share (it’s not my story) and also sharing the information can force people to do things that ... wouldn’t be favorable. the stress from that time made me really upset for a few days and i was so angry that the egregious thing even happened, and i’m definitely not the person to get angry.

also had to get my physical for track from this gross pervert of a doctor who uses a stethoscope to touch breasts :\ and i felt really disgusting and gross and it happened and just yuck so cringe ijaijsf don’t wnat to talk about it

ugh okay another thing that i recently came to realize is that fat is really underrated in attractiveness because flab plausibly makes for super comfortable cuddling? basically other than in the context of a fatphobic society (and this isn’t to thin shame), there’s nothing definitively more beautiful about sharp angles or hard muscles compared to soft curves? someone i sit next to in a class wears hoodies and sweatpants almost everyday and they just look like a pillow/perfect big spoon. okay but at the same time food angst and body image stuff is lowkey resurfacing, but in a really lowkey way against myself :(. part of the reason why i got angry last night at myself was because i didn’t like how i drank boba at such a late time, and how i was basically on a sugar high at 2am. so i’m trying to limit my processed food intake as a means of control. i’m pretty safe from relapsing into fullblown AN but a lot of shame associated with certain foods is still there. also i still dislike my thighs and back flab and i didn’t run hard enough to be ready for track and i feel really out of shape :(

a few days ago i went volunteering and was utterly exhausted and not in the mood of being understanding. i don’t think i was being impatient, but i was being more curt than usual when working with somebody. i was really annoyed and dwelling on my irritation and letting it consume me. on the car ride home, i was thinking through all the reasons why i could be so pissy, so i had to think through all this angst and grossness in january. i was always hoping that i was just pmsing when i was feeling especially down during that month, but i think the stress made me skip that month :\ so idk where my period or pms went but goddamn ig i was just especially moody that month if hormones can’t explain it lol

during january, intersections was passed and that was such a big victory. but i didn’t really care about it. i honestly didn’t even want to do anything for it or hope that i’d go well. part of insecurity for me is that i doubt myself so much (sUBCONSCIOUSLY, which is especially annoying bc idk what i actually feel half the time) that i get frustrated easily.

but the stress of the summer app and distancing myself from the stressful things has allowed me to recover, and i’m really happy and my normal self (which i’m really happy about!!!) i’ve literally been writing for 40 min so i’m going to start doing lists for the remaining stuff i said i’d write about

things i look forward to!

feb: planning for intersections, week of break = cramming for jbowl, light school work load

march: starting my club, leadership conference i’m part of, almost time for jbowl

april: jbowl!, spring break, api healthcare disparities presentation?

may: giant speaker event with an alumnus possibly?

summer: lead a free program for low income students around where i live? there’s a lotta red tape and logistics that come with this one though... will be thinking about it for a long time.

okay i’m sleepy bye