#I would be starving myself by now if it wasn't for my mom and my grandma screaming at my ears to have lunch/dinner

[hioyourluv]

I hate when my friends post those "this month is over, post 6 pics you took this month and bla bla bla" because most of the times I don't even have 6 pics I took in the month that are not me because I probably spent the whole month rotting in my bed thinking about the worst thing that could possibly happen to me in that state

[haeryna]

in my dreams you love me back (i still love you) ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

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summary: soft moments with shoko keep your heart soft as well, but suguru finds something that he wasn't supposed to.

tw: sfw but vague mentions of losing your virginity. your mother MEDDLES but let's be real, we'd do the same. allusions to the bible for the aesthetic but also because i like the imagery of the themes. not proofread.

notes: title taken from red velvet's "in my dreams." the second half of "i would give up heaven if i had to." another short chapter because i split it in two originally! banner from @/cafekitsune

"You look like shit."

You can't stop the huff that escapes your mouth as Shoko peers at you from your phone, propped up against your rice cooker. She's somewhere in the United States right now, attending a medical conference. She isn't wrong; your ten minute break in the bathroom had turned into a full-blown half hour breakdown. Thankfully, none of your coworkers pointed out the redness of your eyes and the sallow tint to your skin. Your manager had practically forced you to go home early. They all assumed that you had broken down about how the Gojo Satoru had demanded you be the one to make his drink. At this point, you were too tired to correct them.

"I just got back from the cafe, leave me alone." Yawning, you reach for a bowl. "I'm starving and exhausted, and now you're going to yell at me, Sho?"

You can hear the heavy exhale, and the camera blurs as she lets out a cloud of cigarette smoke. "I never said that. Did you see them today?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Nobody else can make you cry that hard, and I know it wasn't me."

You hesitate for a moment. "Mom thinks I should hear them out."

"Personally, I would tell them I'll speak to them after a down payment of 5k."

"Shoko!"

But your laughter fills the air, and you can catch Shoko's self-satisfied smirk from the other end. "There she is." A soft haze fills your screen as her voice softens. "Do I need to fly back and tell the two of them to fuck off?"

"I can tell them to leave myself," you protest, but Shoko gives you a deadpan stare. "Okay, well, maybe it'll be hard."

As the silence falls, warm and comfortable, you bustle around the kitchen, spooning rice into your bowl of leftovers. The air is warm, and despite your exhaustion, you can't help but appreciate the dreaminess of the evening. Shoko watches you, dark eyes unreadable. "What?" you finally ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

"Just be careful," she sighs. "Satoru and Suguru will probably do some crazy shit to get you to notice them. I just don't want those idiots to scare you."

"They don't care enough to do that," is your sardonic reply, and this time, it's her turn to laugh.

"If you really think that, then you're blinder than I thought."

He is breaking me down on every side, and now it's too late for me; he has uprooted my hopes like a tree.

When the number of your old landline rings on Suguru's cellphone, he almost blocks it out of habit before he registers the last four digits. Panicking, he immediately accepts the call.

"Hey, is everything okay? I-"

Your mother's voice chirps back at him, a bit staticky from the old phone that he knows she'd insisted on keeping installed in the kitchen. "Suguru, dear, could you do me a favor?"

Ingrained instinct forces a "yes ma'am," from his mouth before he can even process the request. He can practically hear the smile in your mother's voice. "It won't take too long, don't worry. My back has been aching an awful amount after my last surgery, but I've been meaning to wear some of my old church clothes to Bingo Night. Would you mind grabbing it for me?"

The attic is cluttered and old, and the dust stings his eyes, but Suguru can't bring himself to complain as he begins to rummage through boxes. It feels like seeing you again, like being your Suguru again, as he unearths old photo albums, and stuffed toys. There was the rabbit you used to carry around all the time. A picture frame, of you, Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru one summer afternoon. Carefully, he wipes away the dust, smiling at the memory. You'd lost your front tooth that summer; now, it was forever memorialized.

Finally, he reaches a small collection of boxes in the back. The dress lays draped over a small stack of boxes, but as he grabs it, one topples over, spilling its contents all over the floor.

Suddenly, selfishly, Suguru is grateful that Satoru stayed behind back in their hotel room, because inside the cardboard box is envelopes. At least thousands of them, crammed into each possible corner, dates written on the front in the same handwriting you've had since high school. He tears open another box, only to find the same. Three whole boxes of letters. Selfish hope and heavier dread sinks into his skin like the dust that is slowly falling to the floor; Suguru has unearthed something that he knows he's not supposed to see.

Was this how Adam felt, holding the forbidden fruit in his hand? Which was stronger; the will of God, or the love of man?

"You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.

He's almost frantic as he searches for the first letter, scattering them around himself until he finds it; labelled a week after Suguru had taken Satoru with him to pursue what they had believed to be an impossible dream. Suguru hesitates only for a moment, until with one decisive swipe, he rips the flap from the waxy paper beneath. This one is addressed to him.

Suguru,

My parents put me in therapy. Remember how we always used to joke that if anyone needed it, it would be you? Why did you leave me? What did I do wrong? It hurts, Sugu, why, why, why My therapist thinks that keeping letters will help, and my parents want me to at least give it a try. Mom won't say anything, but I know she's concerned. Dad's already torn into Toru's parents, so the whole town is fully aware of what they've done. Shoko says that they're practically livid with shame, skulking around the town as that'll fix their reputation. You missed it; there was one night when the fireflies came back, and I swear they filled the entire sky. It was beautiful. It reminded me of the first time we met, do you remember that?

I wish you'd been here to see it. I'm sorry, Suguru. I'm sorry that I wasn't good enough to take along. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you I love you. I hope you're safe. I hope you're taking care of Toru for me.

I love you so much that it's hard to be mad.

Water drips down onto the ink of where you'd signed your name, and with a start, Suguru realizes he's crying. Gently folding the letter, he sets it aside, and reaches for the next one.

Mom and Dad have what Grandma had. I'm scared, Toru. I wish you were here. You'd always say something silly that would make me forget for even a moment.

Another.

I saw you on the television today, Toru. You're so beautiful it hurts.

Another.

I've given up on properly going to college. They're so sick that I'm terrified to leave them alone.

More. More. More.

I try my best not to listen, but the radio in the coffee shop plays the songs you make, Sugu. I hate it, but it's selfish of me. The girl you sing about, does Toru get along with her? Does she make you happy?

He can't stop himself from reading any more than he can stop the tears pouring down his face. They'd missed so much of your life, and yet you'd dutifully written letter after letter, as if you'd planned on them seeing it. Like you hoped they would come back some day. The next letter was only written two years ago, but it turns Suguru's blood to ice.

I saw the scandal on one of the gossip magazines while I was out shopping for groceries, Toru. The Chanel model? Really? I was kind of hoping for the Gucci one, she seems so nice to her assistant.

I say this like you're a celebrity. A celebrity that I can just laugh at, and say "must be nice, having supermodels fall into your lap!" You were mine, once, long before you were hers. I love loved you.

I did something stupid, last night. Remember Kenji, from high school? The one you always hated? I can't even explain it, how furious I was, when I saw you with that model. You looked so happy, like it didn't matter that all your joy and abundance didn't come at my expense.

I ended up sleeping with him for the first time, with anyone for the first time really. I'm not going to write more; it's embarrassing, and it wasn't even good, but I think I'm more upset with myself. It doesn't matter.

It's not like you'll ever find out. Even if you do, it's not like you'll care.

It's not like my love mattered to you to begin with.

Suguru's chest feels as though someone has washed his heart in acid. On paper, the person you were after they left was more jaded. Less optimistic. You no longer spoke of things you wished they were able to experience with you, but rather all the things they'd left behind. You thought they didn't care, and as he forces his useless lungs to take another breath, he knows that he can't leave this town until he convinces you to come with him. As he stumbles down from the attic, dress in hand, your mother gives him a knowing stare.

"Did you find the dress I asked you to grab?"

"Yes ma'am," Suguru says numbly. It's all he says. It's all he can say. Your mother sighs, patting the chair next to her. "Why don't you call Satoru over, hm? Try some of the tea I bought. I remember your mother saying you only drink black. You really should call her more."

Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in?

"I'm home!" you call out, slipping your shoes off with one hand as you balance the full bag of groceries in the other. "Did you take your medi-"

The carrots drop to the floor as you take in the sight of Gojo and Geto sitting at your kitchen table with your mother of all people. "What the fuck?"

Geto's eyes are rimmed red, like he'd been crying, while Satoru stares at you with a hint of anguish. "What the fuck," you repeat again, dumbfounded. "Why are you in my house right now?"

Geto opens his mouth to speak, but your mother waves it away. "You know how bad my back's been lately, I really wanted to wear that old emerald dress your father got me, do you remember?"

Stunned, you can only nod.

"And, I didn't want to have you come all the way back from the city just to grab a dress for me, so I called over Suguru and Satoru to help me out," your mother finishes. You can't stop the panic from leaking into your voice.

"Where was the dress?"

From the look on their faces, you know that Geto and Gojo have found it. All the letters you were too weak to send, too weak to throw away. How much did they read?

"The attic, dear," is your mother's quiet response, and when you turn her attention to her, you can see the quiet love and encouragement in her eyes.

What's more important? The love for all the things they did do, or all the things they didn't?

White noises rushes into your head, and you can barely process your mother's departure. Something about Bingo Night? The door clicks shut and you're left with silence so profound that your body almost instinctively crumples in on itself. Suguru can't look you in the eyes, absentmindedly tracing the rim of the delicate porcelain teacup that looks comically small next to his calloused hands. Satoru merely watches, but you can see the tension in his neck, in the way his fingers flex around empty air.

So, you do the only thing you can do. You run.

Turning, you all but sprint up the stairs. You lied. You couldn't do this, couldn't face them, see them, hear them-

Toned arms reach around from behind, pulling you decisively to a well-defined chest. The air is forced out of your lungs as you yelp, squirming out of the hold, only to freeze as Satoru places his cheek on your head, nuzzling into your hair.

"I missed you."

Tears spring to your eyes but Satoru keeps going. "You were the only thing that kept us going. Our apartment was so shitty, we had to put cardboard on the floor just to keep warm. I thought of you all the time. I thought of which stage outfit you'd like better, how you would get along so well with the other members of the group. We didn't forget you. We love you too much for that."

"Stop," you choke out, as your legs crumple under you. Satoru catches you, tugging you further into him, as tears trickle down your face. A blurred shape; Suguru, kneeling in front of you, gently taking your hands in his.

"One chance, princess," he breathes. "Give us one chance to explain ourselves. After that, we'll do whatever you want, give you whatever you want. We've only ever been yours."

[cherrysnip]

You were supposed to go to your hometown for the weekends. Unfortunately, there was a storm coming in the area so your mother, being the worrywart that she is, strictly told you to just stay in your apartment because it'll be dangerous if you push through with your travel.

And you did.

However, as early as ten in the morning, you were already bored as hell. You've tried taking a nap since the weather was perfect for it but it wasn't working, so you just stayed up and decided to review for your exams even though they are still a month away.

Moments later, you were already so immersed in reading when your phone suddenly rang. You absentmindedly answered it without even bothering to check who it was.

"Hello?"

"Did you just woke up?" You heard a familiar voice on the other line. It only took you half a second for you to recognize that it was Seokmin.

"Nope. Been awake since four. What's up?"

"Nothing. Just checking up on you. Your mom said you didn't go home?"

"Yes, I didn't. Storm's a bitch," you automatically groaned when you remember how disappointed you were earlier. You leaned back on your chair, "Why would she tell you though?"

"Well, she said her daughter might be crying because she's alone in her apartment right now."

"Stop it, Seok. I know she didn't say that. And besides, I'm already an adult. I can handle myself," you confidently defended yourself which made him chuckle.

"I'm sure you can. Looks like I have nothing to worry about then. I'll hang up now."

"Okay," you waited for him to hang up before you could go back to what you were doing seconds have passed but he still didn't drop the call. "I thought you're hanging up."

"I can't."

"I knew it," It was now your turn to laugh. You know he'd be saying a cheesy line any minute now, like he always does. You already told him that it makes you cringe but he still says them for you anyway. Because he knows that no matter how much you deny it, it still makes your heart flutter like crazy. "I bet you'll say something like you love hearing my voice, won't you?"

"You got me. I can listen to your voice the whole day."

"Well, Mister. You can't just hear it for free, I'm sorry. Your trial period is over. I'll be hanging up right now," you opted to teasing him, because you were too shy to admit you also feel the same way for him.

"Then how does hamburger and pizza sound for a payment?"

Your mouth automatically went agape when you heard his offer. You haven't eaten any breakfast because you were so lazy to get out and buy something. Plus, it's also near lunch time now and your stomach is already growling in hunger. Talk about perfect timing!

"Okay! Deal! I'll wait for it!"

"You're so quick when it comes to food, aren't you?"

"You know I live for it."

"Then is it me or hamburgers?"

"Don't be cruel. I never once made you choose between ramyeon and me."

"Okay," he chuckled. "Fair point."

"Did you already order it?"

"It's already on its way, Madam."

"I'm sorry. You know how impatient am I when I'm starving--" you weren't able to finish what you were saying when you were interrupted by a sudden knocking . "Wait, someone's at my door. I'll just check who it is."

You hurriedly went out of your room and it wasn't long before you arrived at your front door. When you finally opened it, there he was...

A guy wearing a black hoodie, holding two boxes of pizza and hamburgers in his left hand with his phone on his right hand, smiling shyly at you.

"Hi, love."

You let out a chortle and pulled him into a hug. It obviously surprised him but he still hugged you back eventually and then kissed the top of your head.

It was definitely Seokmin, your cheesy sweet boyfriend.

—♡—

[fatphobiabusters]

I explained to a fatphobe today the documented fact that has been known for decades of how there is no scientifically-proven way to lose weight long-term and that dieting doesn't work. His response was to tell me that I need to try for "longer than a week."

I did. I tried for years, probably longer than he ever managed to keep a single friend around to listen to his assholery. The only time I ever had any "success" had also been due to me dieting for longer than a week. Two weeks to be exact. Where I lost 20 pounds.

That's over 9 kilograms, if you measure weight that way.

I lost the same amount of weight as a watermelon. A car tire. A lawn mower. An office chair. The weight of an entire patio table.

In two weeks.

If you want more numbers, that was 2 and a half hours of exercising on exercise equipment at levels dangerous for my body. Every day.

14 days of a self-imposed famine. A salad here or there when I couldn't take the pain in my stomach anymore. And then, of course, going right back to starving.

My mom who had helped teach me to hate my body for not being the width of a pencil had even managed to notice how much weight I lost and how fast. She forcibly weighed me, not that weighing me accomplished anything. She didn't know my previous weight.

I saw my childhood friend for the first time in quite a while after losing the weight of two newborn babies in half a month. The first thing I asked her is if she noticed I was thinner. I had always compared myself to her growing up. She was naturally thin, needed no effort at all to stay barely thicker than her bones. She would only eat a few bites of food, slowly, and only if it was to her taste. For many years as a kid, she was the single person I knew who ate baloney, let alone as one of the handful of foods she was willing to consume. I grew up thinking thin people ate nothing more than a bowl of steamed broccoli for dinner because nothing I did ever made me as small as her.

When she told me she noticed, I smiled. I was proud that I had so severely abused my body, that I had lost an extremely alarming amount of weight in such a short amount of time.

The only time. The one instance I had ever managed to lose a noticeable amount of my body. My fat genetics and PCOS don't really help in that regard.

I'm now nearly double the weight I had starved to as a teenager. My story follows the research studies to a T.

By the end of high school, I had already gained back the whole 20 pounds. And after high school, I gained that "and then some" so many people experience. 95% of people who try to lose weight end up gaining the weight back within 3-5 years, most becoming bigger than the weight they started with. I didn't "willpower enough" into that 5% success rate. Abusing my body those two weeks so I could be an entire shopping cart lighter and then obsessing about my weight throughout my high school years wasn't enough "willpower" it seems.

I gained more weight afterwards due to medicine, mental disability, untreated PCOS, a pandemic, more attempts at starvation, being bedridden in a tent for two years, and my body, like many bodies, wanting to grow into those fat genetics of mine now that I was no longer a teenager.

I did, in fact, try longer than a week. Now it's time to reciprocate and try treating fat people like human beings for a mere seven days. Here's an app for you to log all of the fat people you didn't tell to die, and make sure you use all your willpower. I have a neighbor whose sister's boss managed to not tell fat people to die for two whole years! They're still refraining from doing so today. All her boss needed to do was stop drinking sodas and have the willpower to succeed.

Have you tried that?

-Mod Worthy

[iamamikcals]

I wish that I wasn't a fat pig that can't do nothing but stuff my mouth with food. I wish I wanted to throw up just by the thought of having a full stomach. I wish that my mom was as toxic as I'm with myself and let me starve myself to death while telling constantly that I don't deserve to eat. I wish that purging was ACTUALLY getting rid of all the calories so I could purge every time even when I drink water. I wish that I was so skinny people would not even want to hug me because they are too scared they are gonna break me. I wish that I could starve myself for days. If only I wasn't an impatient fat pig. I fail at everything, even in losing weight and having self control. I know it's bad but I wanna starve myself so bad that it hurts. I feel like I will only be happy when I'll be at my worst, when I will be just skinny to bones, when every single footstep will be a torture for me, when I'll not be able to eat anything without purging it in the toilet, when I'll be collapsing and dying on the floor because I can't even stay on my feet. I feel euphoric just by thinking about the day I'll finally leave on my own and be at my lowest. I'll finally be able to starve, purge, starve and purge again without any guilt, without worrying about the fact that my mom is gonna make me eat dinner, without someone stopping me. It is now me and my dear and lovely ed against the world and I don't want it to change. I want her to stay with me forever. I only want to trust her now but I feel like as long as I'm not underweight she will never be proud of me.

[martinsharmony]

In defense of RP Shipping and RP Fiction

I don’t normally come out and give my opinion on things like this so plainly about such controversial things. I tend to shy away from confrontational writing such as this. However this idea has been brewing in my mind for some time now so I had to write it.

I am a Real Person Shipper.

I’m seeing people talk a lot more about RP shipping (and the hate towards it) since David Tennant and Michael Sheen appeared smiling at each other in a photo after David's appearance in Macbeth.

RP Shipping is not a choice.

When I caught the shipping bug, it hit me like lightning. It occurred to me one night as I lay in bed next to the husband with which I had a deteriorating relationship: “are there stories about Dave Gahan and Martin Gore…being together??”

Dave Gahan/Martin Gore (Gahore) are in Depeche Mode. They were my 1st ship as an adult. You can read about it here. Obviously Depeche Mode is a band so there is no fictional narrative anywhere to follow. I quickly learned that RP shipping was taboo. However in my shipping community we all shipped the band so I was more or less insulated from it.

I dove in headfirst. I literally couldn’t not do it. It was something my brain needed. Sure I could have forced myself to not go look for it because of some kind of moral (?) imperative which I wasn’t even aware of at the time, but even if I stopped myself, that would not stop my brain from wanting it. Making up stories and scenarios. Finding evidence in videos, songs, interviews, etc. I shipped these two people because of what I had observed between them.

I saw love. So did my shipping friends. We all saw it. I needed to experience it. My life lacked it.

My next RP ship was Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch (FreeBatch). First I fell in love with Sherlock and John, obviously. But then as I started to follow the fandom, I started noticing the same things that others noticed. My brain just went there. I literally had no choice. It’s not as if I could tell my brain “don’t do that”. It would not listen. You can’t tell a starving person to not think about food. In fact telling them that probably makes it worse.

In my personal life, I had been through a breakup with the man I dated after I got divorced, and then I began dating a woman for the 1st time. I really started to relate what I was seeing on the screen and reading on Tumblr and in fic to my own life. I was starting to process my own bisexuality. I started to notice things about Martin and Ben that other people were noticing too. Shipping them helped me navigate that time in my life because I saw myself in it. I related to it. But it wasn't a choice. My brain just went there. Maybe I was Baader-Meinhoffing but even if I was, that doesn’t mean it’s something I didn’t need to explore, work out in my mind, and discover.

Shennant (Michael Sheen and David Tennant) is my 3rd RP ship. Yes I fell in love with Aziraphale and Crowley of course, but again, as I started to follow the fandom and David’s and Michael’s careers specifically, watching interviews, watching Staged, etc, I started noticing the same thing that many others noticed. I literally couldn’t help it. My brain, again, just went there. Also in Staged of course, they play themselves. I have to say that my RP Shipping really took off after I watched them in that. They play themselves. Their actual partners are in it. If one were to write Staged fic, is that not RPF? Where is the line between what is supposed to be okay and what is not?

Again, with this ship, I had big things going on in my personal life. Dad passed away almost a year and a half ago, and now I'm taking care of my elderly mom long distance. It's a huge emotional burden. I'm not dating anyone right now mostly because of that but also because I was in a poly relationship with the male half of a het married couple (longtime friends of mine) that ended extraordinarily painfully (so this was V or chain-style poly not group-sex poly). Since then I've been alone for more than 2 years. I'm still getting over it.

The love I see between Michael and David feels unconditional. I see adoration. If they are indeed in a healthy poly relationship, my god, how on earth did they do that? Even while navigating fame? It’s certainly a lot more difficult than my own situation. I can explore it: What kind of person feels safe to me the way I believe David feels safe with Michael? What kind of relationship can withstand the kind of obstacles they (and I) might face? What would have had to actually happened for them to be as happy as they seem to be? What discussions were had? What agreements were reached? How does one do this the right way? What does that tell me about my own relationship and what went wrong? What should have happened?

This is, in its most academic sense, a tool for my brain to heal and to discover what kind of a relationship I want. And my brain knows it. That’s why it ships. My heart doesn’t know that. It just knows I love seeing them happy together. This is the magnet that drew me.

RP Shipping helps us to work shit out in our personal lives.

I bought Spark edited by Atlin Merrick recently. One of the essays by Angela Nauss, LMFT (Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist) really stood out to me is titled Sympathy for the Devil: Attachment Theory and FanFiction.

The article is about fanfiction authors, however I would extrapolate this to include readers and RP Shippers as well. RP Shippers are authors of narratives in their own mind, even if they are not always written down.

From the book:

“Fanfiction authors process attachment wounds using fictional characters as proxies…to process and understand the origin of the problems encountered during adolescence.”

“Some authors write fanfiction to humanize uncomfortable aspects of their identity, grieve and repair damaged relationships, and process attachment wounds…by exploring how the character would behave in adaptive relationships.”

“Fanfiction authors project their unconscious trauma onto the characters.”

“The characters gain insight into their behavior and no longer feel responsible for their childhood attachment wounds. Through their writing, the author incorporates repressed trauma and attachment wounds into their conscious experience and achieves catharsis.”

“Writing fanfiction is a valid form of therapeutic self-exploration.”

I’ve been in therapy for several years, In fact the poly relationship I was in is why I seeked out therapy in the 1st place. I know that shipping these people, exploring aspects of that, is helping me to heal attachment wounds and the trauma caused by past relationships.

As part of my healing from this poly relationship I was in, I intend to write a meta and/or a fic about David and Michael. I know it will aid in my healing. I may or may not post it.

Also, even Shakespeare wrote RPF.

I’m seeing people say that we RP Shippers are terrible, immoral, disgusting, gross people and that we want David and Michael to leave their partners. That we want to break up their families. Let me be clear that I want nothing of the sort.

There are people out there that want to "protect" them from this “immorality” by shaming us, berating us, calling us names. Even sending certain blogs directly to Georgia and Anna! This is the exact opposite of what actions like this are actually doing. This does not protect them from harm. It creates it.

There is no such thing as thought crime.

Not only is it impossible for me to choose not to ship these people, but I also get the sense that even thinking about it is supposed to be wrong. That it makes me an immoral person.

Something I keep seeing is that people are so upset that we RP Shippers are doing this. Like, why don’t we just, stop. Just look at all the other appropriate characters that are out there to ship! Or just never start in the first place. As if this was a choice we are making to consciously ship real people.

When shippers ship a couple, do they choose that couple consciously? Do they say, hmm, I'm going to ship X person and Y person because it's...logical? Or for whatever consciously thought of reason? I'm going to go out on a limb and speak for mostly all shippers and say no. Shippers ship because we see something in those 2 characters that we are drawn to like magnets, for whatever reason. Real People included. If you're on Tumblr for a fandom and read fic, you know what I'm talking about.

Male/Male relationships is a fetish, or a kink, for me. And by extension, RPS/RPF as well. I do enjoy thinking about what might be the "reality" behind the curtain that we are shown as part of their public personas. This is part of the ingredients to this fetish, or kink, for me.

Kink is defined by Wikipedia as “the use of non-conventional sexual practices, concepts or fantasies. The term derives from the idea of a “bend” (a “kink”) in one’s sexual behaviour, to contrast such behaviour with “straight” or “vanilla” sexual mores and proclivities. It is thus a colloquial term for non-normative sexual behaviour.”

A fetish is defined by Wikipedia as referring “to any sexually arousing stimuli, not all of which meet the medical criteria for fetishism. This broader usage of fetish covers parts or features of the body (including obesity and body modifications), objects, situations and activities (such as smoking or BDSM).”

Generally, modern sexual health thinking seems to say “So long as your fetish doesn’t get in the way of your own well-being, the safety of others, and your partners participate enthusiastically, there is nothing wrong with it.”

It seems to be another taboo to claim gay (or bi/pansexual) men as a fetish, or a kink. There are some who claim that it’s objectifying the very real experiences of gay men. I struggle with this because I can't deny that I enjoy it but I also don't want to hurt anyone.

I am not a gay man. I will never be a gay man. I am a cis bisexual woman. I can never know what that experience is like. This is, in essence, the core of the fantasy. It can feel as good and perfect and romantic and loving as I want it to be because I don’t have the parts or experience to know it first hand. Therefore I've come to the conclusion that my thoughts in my head and anything I write down in a safe space does not hurt anyone. For me personally, it’s a way to disconnect from myself. People enjoy fic for all sorts of reasons. I shouldn’t have to prove that my reasons are "wholesome" to be allowed to enjoy it.

I don’t enjoy reading het fiction for reasons I won’t go into, however they are probably not individual to just me alone. Hoards of women like me also enjoy the same thing.

So yeah. To the surprise of absolutely no one, thinking about Michael and David, or Martin and Ben, or Dave and Martin, or men in general, kissing or having sex or a romance with each other – turns me on. That leads me to state the following:

Anti-RP Shipping and Anti-RP Fiction is kink shaming.

When I say "Anti", I'm referring to those who loudly object to it. Not those who (thankfully) say "that's not for me" and move on. Just like I would with say, Omegaverse.

Because my interpretation of these real people is in reality, “fiction” in my own head, then by definition all RP Shipping is RP Fiction. It cannot be reality because I don’t know them. Therefore any stories, speculation, comments, analysis, conclusions, art, etc, IS ALL FICTION.

Real people are characters to your brain.

Obviously I don’t know them personally, so anything that I were to believe or create in my head about them is by definition, fiction. My brain makes it up according to what I’ve seen, read, heard, observed and drew conclusions from. This creates a fictional reality for my brain to consume. It can’t be reality because I don’t know them.

Wikipedia says RPF writers are “building a fictional universe based on the supposed real-life histories of their idols. Information from interviews, documentaries, music videos, and other publicity sources are assimilated into the stories. It is also very popular to write fiction about celebrity couples. Communities of writers build collective archetypes based on the celebrities' public personas".

I would never, under any circumstances, present any RPS/RPF questions, stories, insinuations, or even mention it at all directly to the actors/musicians/personalities or their partners or even anyone associated with them. I would be beyond embarrassed to do so. Even though Michael himself seems to be accepting of it, I would never present it to him. Never. (I mean it’s not like I could really anyway but still).

I believe that 99.9% of RP Shippers would do the same. It’s the .01% that have done so (and unscrupulous “journalists” looking to shock by asking questions/showing them the RPF, and those people claiming to prevent harm by sending it directly to them “for legal action” or tattletale “look at what these terrible people are doing” and blaming the RP shippers for creating it – wow talk about projection) -that make a bad name for us all. Showing it to them and asking them about it IS a choice.

If RP Shipping is not a choice, a way to work out personal mental health issues, is fictional by definition, and a non-pathological aid to sexual excitement that hurts no one if it is contained within safe spaces such as fic sites and Tumblr, then what exactly is the harm?

Tumblr is a safe space.

Why is there such vitriol against RP Shipping and RPF? You claim to be protecting the actors or people in question, but by raising your voices so loudly in various ways, you are harming the very person you claim to be protecting. I think you have to ask what it is within yourself that makes you so aggressively hate this? Why can't we just say "that's not for me" and move on?

Don't we on Tumblr and on AO3 celebrate non-mainstream ideas such as this? Or if not celebrate, at least live and let live. The fact is that Tumblr is supposed to be a safe space. I should feel safe speaking my mind here. I know quite a few RP shippers follow me so I don't feel completely alone, but I don't feel entirely safe posting this.

My morality is not yours to police.

I strongly doubt I’ll be changing anyone’s mind with this. If you’re Anti RP shipping and Anti RPF you’re probably going to stay that way.

Don’t like, don’t read.

You can unfollow, block people, block tags, filter tags on AO3...any number of things. Think of it like a trigger. Just please don't spew hate.

[icedmetaltea]

Just lettin ya'll know I'm ok

(random irl stuff to journal below, keep scrollin)

Wanted to wait to come back till

1. I wasn't dealing with mega gender dysphoria, my masc/neutral days are few and far between but by god it's been nonstop masc/neutral days lately and been a lot of just hating my body (and myself in general)

2. got the ebt stuff figured out, which I haven't yet, my doc put in a ref for a different place to sign a thing, waited 2 weeks for them to call, only to find out it was the wrong place and now I have to wait for the next place to call... which like yea I'm worrying about food but talking about it in therapy has helped somewhat. She reassured me even if that doesn't work we WILL find some place that'll sign the form I need to be eligible again

3. I wasn't dealing with as bad of depression/anxiety which like... idk. I've definitely been doing better anxiety-wise but idk if that's bc it hasn't been as hot lately or I've been feeding myself better. I know I must've been eating under 1200s calories the past few weeks bc the scale finally stopped going down and I know for a fact my anxiety gets bad when I'm hungry so I think for about a month I was unintentionally starving myself, SO making myself eat at least 2 nutritious meals a day now

At the same time I think perhaps my pmdd symptoms are... reversing time schedules??? Usually my anxiety/depression gets way worse before period but now it seems like it's fine before and terrible during/after????? Makes zero sense but who knows. Also it's a couple days late now so health anxiety is going off the shits about PCOS or something again UGH

Making SOME progress with therapy, am able to be outside for 5 mins without feeling that horrific sense of dread so that's something.

I've also been coming to the realization that I may have some form of DID?? Not the type where you lose time/blackout/completely have entirely different memories and starkly different personality switches but I've definitely been noticing now that I've been putting more attention to it how I go into different "modes" and sets of interests throughout the weeks and I mean... it's not secret I have imaginary friends I talk to on the daily. I've had an issue figuring out where "they" end and "myself" begins since childhood. Plus I already deal with derealization/dissociation/occasional age regression so it's not out of the realm of possibility. May bring it up next therapy apt. Kinda worried to bc I never want to get rid of them and I'm worried that would be one of the goals, like... just no. I can't think of anything more lonely.

But yea just random stuff I needed to get outta my system, sorry about all the suicidal stuff, it's just really hard. The future seems so bleak. And if one thing sets me back, like doctor stuff, food issues, etc my brain is like "DEATH WOULD BE EASIER LOL" BUT there's a chance trump/a republican candidate won't win, a chance climate change will be reversed/humanity will adapt somehow, a chance I'll be accepted for disability and live a halfway decent life, and if not... well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. But for now there's food in the fridge, for now mom and dad are alive, for now we're ok.

[dadvans]

missing language.

if livejournal posts were still real. this would be it.

i started learning japanese when i was 11 years old, around early summer 2000, from my aunt from okinawa. she would practice with me in the gazebo when she and my uncle would come to visit for family reunions in the midwest, and would continue to buy me tapes, movies, CDs to start learning the language.

my school district was one of the lowest in the country growing up. we had a prestigious japanese immersion charter school, and after a disastrous middle school year, i ended up applying and being accepted. grades four to twelve. each year we were in different (sometimes abandoned or condemned) buildings up until halfway through my freshman year. despite occupying abandoned churches and gymnasiums, we had the highest test scores, and most exclusive college acceptance rates in oregon. it was either that good or that bad. we all hated each other the way family hates each other.

i won my division three years running for the oregon japanese speech contest through my ninth grade year.

i moved to japan two days after my sixteenth birthday. the year and a half that followed was not easy. i had a host family for a period of time that constantly kicked me out, starved me, and found other families for me to live with. i had another family where the host dad tried to molest me twice by taking me to remote locations. when i became fluent, really fluent, around the 6 to 8 month mark (long after i passed the JLPT 3 at the time, which is now closer to JLPT 2), after months of isolating myself in the computers at class to speak english to abroad friends for an hour a day, i told my japanese school friends, and they were horrified. they stepped up in ways i never knew. it wasn't usual for someone to be so forthcoming, and yet they all recognized it as an extreme circumstance, invited me into their inner circle. my home room teachers took notice and would take me out for lunch. my host family situation was codename ONI BABA, and even another family that eventually took me in would refer to her as such, when i asked if i could borrow her koto for a public concert (yeah, the one instrument it turns out i'm a prodigy at is okoto. Played my first concert at a local Obon festival within a week of starting. Talk to me about how Hana Kage is a fucking bitch. this version of 回転木馬 was what i was performing after a year. if you can find my old livejournal account, i guarantee there is a really terrible version recorded on my motorola razr still live).

by the time i was seventeen i was allowed to be on payroll to act as a translator for a month-long "jan-term" project with my mom in japan, where we took about 13 students across the main land. back at my american school i was writing all my essays in japanese, in the style i had been taught in japan (it was WILD to relearn how to rewrite english essays when living abroad-- that shit does NOT translate sometimes).

i went to college. i was immediately accepted into the higher ed programs my school provided. they were working toward offering a major, but only had a minor present. i signed on for level 300 with 8 other students.

the professor hated me. that is the nicest word for it. she would have typos on her quizzes. she would make fun of my hokkaido accent. but the worst part was when i was sexually assaulted by one of the other 8 students in the class, went to her during office hours to request that she not pair me with that student out of fear, and then she proceeded to exclusively pair me with that student on projects.

i was also learning i had a learning disability, but the student union health center refused to directly prescribe me medication for my disability, or refer my outwards--what happened instead was i was put on a prescription that had not been recommended outside of extreme epilepsy (carbamezapine), and when i expressed my fear that it was resurfacing suicidal tendencies, the doctor in charge doubled the dosage and encourage me to kill myself.

it was an ordeal. it was an ordeal that i documented. it was an ordeal that by spring 2008, i was accused of cheating on a test i got less than 30% on because i was so fucking out of it by a woman who would only partner me with a man who had sexually abused me. and when i confronted her about it on tape, with a medical transcript of what i had endured for the past year, i have a recording of her saying, "I don't need a piece of paper to tell me that you have problems."

Anyway, she went on sabbatical to adopt a kid the next year. Idiot sex pest remained in my classes, but god, he really sucked. I had to leave through most of my 400-level classes because I was working a lot. Most of my classes were essentially unpaid labor where we were translating books and providing subtitles for movies that were ready for American distribution. Half of my classmates my second year were born in Japan and spoke Japanese better than English but were able to cop out a foreign language credit, and they were honestly my favorite friends in the class, even if that's a steep fucking grading curve. Asshole teacher appeared once my spring semester, but knowing she took the year off, I actually completed my minor degree my sophomore year in early 2009.

And then I never really spoke Japanese again.

And it's hard. Whenever I'm introduced to media, I'm like, god, I forgot that. I remember that. I knew that, once upon a time. I remember conversations in English that weren't in English. And I remember when I was in my senior year of High School, I would be speaking Japanese and forget that I was speaking Japanese, that sometimes no one else except my teacher or friend who were equally fluent understood too. I miss that feeling. I feel shame, sometimes, at letting it go. I know I still have the pronunciation and local dialect, but it's hard to be reminded of how much I forgot.

When I started learning first, very close to when I was still fluent, Indonesian, and more recently, French, my backup language in my head has always been Japanese instead of English. My wife used to tell me I had a Japanese accent when I would try to speak French (fun fact: one of my friends in Japan was learning French and spoke zero English, and only then did I understand the horror of French phonetics), and it took me literally over a month of quietly practicing my R's in my car when I would get home from work for her to be like, oh you sound like a regular Anglo (read: white boy trying so hard and yet).

Whenever I get back into the mindset of becoming fluent in French (mandatory!), and restart the journey from where I left off these past years, I ache something fierce and weird for my Japanese. It is, surface level, a sense of failure. I couldn't hold onto you, I wouldn't have known how to try. There were obstacles. There were so many bad memories. And yet, sometimes I will be in bed with my wife, and she will be watching a Japanese show, and I will be like, "Did he really say that?" and she will say, "Oh God, I forgot that you knew Japanese."

Some things are bone deep and will probably never go away. I guess I'm still in mourning for the language that I lost as I continue to learn a new language. I want to be better, I know I can be better this time! And yet, I'm afraid that every step forward, I'll lose what I have of my second language identity. I have already lost so much.

[doberbutts]

Thank you for talking about the “able to get to the door but unable to stay inside” thing re:stimulation. My issues are less severe than yours were (creates chronic fatigue instead of severe meltdowns) but it’s kinda the first time I’ve heard anyone discuss them as a legitimate disabling barrier. I still have this “if I just try hard enough” mentality that I’m trying to overcome, and it helps to have someone else go “no, this is a real problem.”

Honestly the brain injury really opened my eyes because I do have ADD and had childhood epilepsy (been seizure-free since I was 8 tho) so we were somewhat conscious about sensory stuff but a lot of it was like. Okay every once in a while you will touch something that is Bad Texture and you will scrub your skin raw about it for the next couple of hours. Annoying repeating sounds fade into the background for you but God Forbid anyone talks while you're concentrating because now they've ruined everything. You'd rather starve than put Tastes Bad into your mouth and have gone to bed with hunger pains many times as a result. etc etc etc for me it wasn't so disabling but largely that was due to my mom knowing how to manage my symptoms and teaching me from a very young age how to cope.

And then with the seizures my major warning sign was a colossal headache that refused to go away which was a sign to go lay down somewhere quiet and dark for a few hours until it passed or else a lightning storm would happen in my skull :D

But the brain injury... that really upset everything. Which is commonly reported, when I was finally able to speak I told my neurologist that I felt like a completely different person and not in a good way and he said that most TBI survivors have said this.

Honestly the best way I can describe it is that. Hmm. Imagine... your TV is too loud. When I say too loud I mean like. It hurts to be in the same room as the TV, it's bordering on the edge of so loud that it makes you physically take a step back. When the TBI first happened, that was any and every stimulus to my senses. My clothes touching my skin was Too Loud. Tasting my food was Too Loud. The ambient light coming from my window was Too Loud. And so on and so forth. Because there was an actual damaged piece of my brain, it was really struggling to parse any more information than "oh, no, ow, make that stop".

I wore blacked out glasses inside because I couldn't stand to keep my eyes open otherwise. I would ask my roommates to whisper several rooms down if they were going to talk to each other or on the phone because even just hearing their footsteps was like someone was taking a hammer to my forehead. I was usually naked because the feel of my shirt against my back would set me off. There's a lot I can't remember from that time but I remember being so frustrated as I hid under my covers from the light and the ambient noise of living with a bunch of people and their pets that "trying harder" and "pushing through" honestly just made everything worse.

It's a lot better now. It'll be 5 years in July. But every once in a while something will still set me off and I will be back in that place, frustrated with myself as I feel my brain hurtling towards a Very Loud Meltdown that I cannot get to stop.

I just don't appreciate being told that it's somehow lesser because my legs work. Especially considering TBIs are so common, and they happen so fast. All it takes is one good knock on the head and then you'll be just like me.

[takami-takami]

Trigger warning: restrictive eating (medical), calorie numbers, weight, emeto. LONG SRY

I will say though. Now that it's gastroparesis awareness month! My story with gastroparesis.

Today, I ate a meal with my family. I ate rice, chicken without oil, and baked empanadas with ground chicken in them. And even though my mom had to cook me a separate plate that wasn't deep fried like everyone else's, I feel so at peace.

Today when I was at the doctor's office getting a physical form signed for school, my doctor turned to me and smiled and said, "I'm not telling them about your gastroparesis for stomach issues. You know where you are. Stable!" And I genuinely lit up and nodded.

There was a good period of my life where I was only eating 600-800 calories a day. I slept propped up to aid motility, I woke up every morning with pain and would wake up in the middle of the night. I had shakes and tremors when I took my medicine. I was tired, cold, underweight. I developed agoraphobia because I was so terrified of getting sick outside and not having my room to go run and hide in.

I had anxiety attacks about my food getting contaminated, and I yelled at people who touched or moved my food like a starved animal. Like, I genuinely felt like one.

I remember when I found the first nutrition shake I could keep down. After drinking one per day, I noticed I didn't drag my feet down the steps anymore. I actually did a little skip. And I felt so much joy and told everybody I knew, I can skip again! I could dance to music for a short amount of time again!

I remember how devastated and scared I was when Orgain changed the recipe to appeal to diet culture instead of health. I went right back to that dark place.

But I pushed myself, and once I noticed my volume intake limit increasing, I knew I had to start varying my diet because my gp was improving. So I dealt with refeeding, and it was hard. But I did it!

Over the past three years, I have slowly gotten better and better, more able to tolerate more volume and more foods. I stopped my SSRI antidepressant at the advice of my GI, and that definitely helped over the past year and a half. I also healed more from my trauma, which I do genuinely think helped me as well.

Now I weigh enough to donate blood again! I went to Japan and ate at restaurants! I get crepes with my sibling and the blueberries make me a little sick but I eat them anyway because I'm not so afraid anymore! I can go out with people to eat! I can eat with my family!!!!!!

Now, I just avoid high fat, high fiber foods and don't eat raw, unblended veggies/fruit. And I'm genuinely fine. I can literally check the nutrition label and EAT THAT NEW FOOD? RIGHT THERE? AS LONG AS IT'S LOW FAT/FIBER? THAT'S CRAZY!!!!! THAT'S CRAZY.

I'm just so happy. I have no idea how I managed back then, because I'm so fucking happy now. I'm genuinely happy, and I'm not in pain every day. Now I only experience pain if I eat something I'm not supposed to. That's so crazy. Genuinely.

I am very grateful. I have never felt something more soul-crushing than gastroparesis. It's a terrible diagnosis, and no one wants to study it because it's rare and a cure isn't "profitable". But it is a very, very painful diagnosis, and the suffering is real.

I'm just happy to be okay again. We genuinely need to find a cure because no one should have to live like that.

[scyphosunny]

finally ( and not in time ) , vargastober day 2 !! let's talk about it !!!!!

holy shit . where do i even start

okay . sso . my sister does this thing where she books rooms in random pretty hotels just for me and my family to spend time there ? idk not like we travel a lot . so yknow just to enjoy the hotel experience for once . she's done this three times now , and i realized that i don't like it because they get me all stressed and because i don't like being in the same room with the rest of my family for more than four hours lolz

what about this . she booked the room on tuesday , of course . october first . so i had to make the first piece on monday instead ! that's why i did post that one on time XP

we had to go back on wednesday , and doing so always gets me all grumpy and depressed for some reason . I DON'T WANT TO GO TO ANY MORE HOTELS PLEASE I HAVE EVERYTHING I WANT AND NEED AT HOME . so i get home from the hotel , carrying a million things because my mom asked me to and well . god . i'm just stressed , lonely , depressed and overall unmotivated for a reason . HAPPENS EVERY . TIME . I SWEAR . CAN I GET A MOMENT OF PEACE

then my aunt comes by to leave some stuff for my mom . i look like a mess i was literally asleep five seconds ago . she gives me the talk again ( the talk is " oohhh you can't just not do anything you need to do something with your life i'm currently taking a break from school cause of my mental health so yeah the same thing , over and over again . I KNOW I'M USELESS AND WORTHLESS AND WILL DIE BUT CAN YOU LET ME ENJOY THIS PLEASE I REALLY DON'T WANT TO KILL MYSELF ) CAN I JUST DRAW MY MENTALLY ILL MEN PLEASE I HAVE A VARGASTOBER PIECE I NEED TO TAKE CARE OF

she leaves . still not feeling any motivation at all time to watch code lyoko with my sister ! we finished the series a week ago , so now we're watching code lyoko evolution . like many fans , i have opinions . about evo . but i'm also content starved ( and william starved ) so i decided to watch a part of it anyway . so now i'm also watching it with my sister ! if i don't finish it on my own , we'll probably finish it together . . .

then , hanging out with friends ! we're watching dungeon meshi together . i really enjoy the anime , to be honest ! lol every time we finished watching it i would just forget about it for a whole week or until we watched it again . but . . . .. this time . . . ... . i need MORE

into the actual drawing . . . okay this one was hard , which is funny since it's a relatively easy prompt . what about just some fluff . everyone loves fluff . but i was also thinking . . . i wasn't sure if i wanted to make real comfort or FAKE COMFORT !!!!!! i like thinking about these escenarios . edgar being tired sad and vulnerable , he needs someone SO BAD and scri gives him that fake comfort to take advantage of him in some way . something like chapter 18 . i still think about that one so much .

a year ago i made this piece for a video and YES THIS IS WHAT I MEAN , THAT LIFELESS LOOK ON EDGAR AND SCRI JUST GOING TO TRY AND FIX EDGAR IN HIS OWN TWISTED WAY . they're so deliciously painful .

at the end , you don't really need to take the prompts literally ! but still . i decided to go with real comfort this time . or . well . with a little plot twist .

have you read " and you , you can't live like this " ? i also think about this one so much . that last part , where the two of them are just . so absolutely in love with each other . edgar can't understand the warmth he feels when he sees scriabin and decides not to think about it . i mean , i know they're in love with each other already , but GOD this . this is DIFFERENT for SOME REASON .

( nodding silently

okay , what about this . . . i wanted to draw a little scene , maybe just edgar waking up , the realizing scri is like CLINGING ONTO HIM STILL ASLEEP and he just gets these jolts of warmth he described already . IT IS COMFORTING . HE JUST ISN'T AWARE OF IT . i had this incredibly specific reference i wanted to work with . . . i was just a bit worried because i never drew anything in that angle before . and man , as much as i draw there's still LOTS of things i'm still not able to draw ! like certain face angles , poses without a reference . . . i'm getting at least a bit better at the poses maybe but IT'S MOSTLY FACES . i just can't get certain angles to look right ugh

this is the reference i wanted to use ! i found it on pinterest , and the author wasn't credited . . . searched a bit more and someone said it was this person called " black1cherry1 " on twitter . i don't even know if that's the actual artist , but if it is , credits to them . . ?

okay well . i tried ! and failed . i couldn't get the angle to look right . FRUSTRATING

so i changed ideas ! found another reference

( made by the same artist , i think !

a little bit less meaning to it . . . maybe scriabin doing that thing he did on chapter 29 i think ? of feeling edgar's heartbeat while sleeping . uh-huh . great excuse to cuddle , scri .

tried again ! AND FAILED !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

tried harder EVEN . last reference i used i literally just put it on the canvas , scribbled on it a little , got a small sketch and then ditched it . way to go sunny .

so at this point i was like . well . random fluff , then

russlan made a chapter 20/21 piece ! and you know wwhat i think about chapters 20/21 . ( looking at you

got a random reference . . . funny how the drawing just started losing more and more meaning to it as i got new references . I'M SO LAME AND I'M SORRY I'LL TRY TO BE BETTER

didn't even try to work with this one ! wasn't feeling like it . . . so just to make myself feel more productive , i opened a blank canvas and started putting a bunch of ideas together for the rest of the prompts . while doing so , i found a drawing that just went SO INCREDIBLY HARD and i was thinking . should i . should i . should i . sssshhhould i

the piece was a drawing of someone hugging like . a robot . with a bunch of wires connected to it . AND HERE'S WWHERE I GET THE FEEL OF MAKING SOMETHING MORE OBSCURE

imagine , like . . edgar hugging that weird skeleton he found at the start of chapter 28 ( that scene still haunts me at night ) . hugging him because that thing IS scriabin , he needs scriabin and would and DID EVERYTHING HE COULD TO STAY WITH HIM EVEN AFTER KNOWING THE TRUTH AND AFTER ALL THEY WENT THROUGH doesn't it sound yummy and tragic

but then i just had to draw the skeleton and figure out what the fuck he looked like ( i re-read that one part and got chills just thinking about it ) . i'm sure someone already make a drawing of it before but i couldn't find it . so nnope i gave up right after starting . POINTLESS FLUFF IT'LL BE .

so yeah , i still kept on getting ideas together and stuff . I WAS GENUINELY SO EXCITED BY IT , GOT SOME GREAT REFERENCES AND I CAN'T WAIT TO USE THEM ( half of them are horror themed . people on twt are like " oh i love your art , it's so soothing " and i'm like . . . . .. rn ( annd once it was past three am i was like okay whatever i should go to sleep early so i can wake up before fucking 1PM and work on both pieces today ( yes , 3AM wwould be early for me ) so i close csp , get that random window of like , " there's some unsaved canvases do you want to save them " and i was like nuh-uh not like i drew anything , really aside from the fucking list of ideas

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ( i lost everything

what makes me a bit less worried is that i saved the references on pinterest to credit the original artists if i did use them ! so maybe i can just go ahead and do the whole thing again but god . i wasted SO MUCH TIME FOR NOTHING . i was frustrated so i just went to sleep .

( quick thing , i always like to send a good night tweet so hawker sees it and says good night to me . i wwas way too sleepy to write one yesterday .

THURSDAY . woke up at ten , got breakfast , played a bit of geometry dash , TIME TO WORK

just did some research . . . found the pic i used as a reference and it's apparently made by mamefuk on twt ! i searched on their profile and i found the post .

i was just having fun and taking my time with scri's face . sometimes the things i draw look bad because i rush them too much . NEVER A GOOD THING

pretty clothes once again . . . i wanted to put a pretty overall on him but i just couldn't get it to look right :/// which is a shame because it'd look super cute on him .

i used the brush i worked with on the last piece i made , and i kinda regret it because my art is already hard to see ? and once it's colored it kinda just made it worse . . .

TOOK ONE OF YAELOKRE'S DRAWING AS A REFERENCE , the patches on the pants just looked way too cute . ( i wish i could wear clothes like that irl . . . which is kinda funny because my style rn is actually pretty dark

( lolol kinda looks like scri is patting keath's head

guys , i won't lie to yyou . just drawing the line took so incredibly long . i'm really the world's slowest artist .

i got them all nice and pretty by 5:30 . i always struggle choosing clothes for them i want to make them look pretty .

I DID ADD THE YARN ON HIS HAIR THIS TIME

made my colors even MORE saturated because i wanted to give that vibe , sort of . i did have to make them a little less saturated because it looked kinda odd . . . there's something so funny about me STILL listening to the subdigitals three hours later . THEIR SONGS ARE JUST SO GOOD , I SWEAR . I'VE BEEN LISTENING TO THEM MULTIPLE TIMES A DAY .

i swear to god i'd do a whole section here talking about every song they have but it would be like an ad lol

also drew them with socks because i RRRREFUSE to draw feet . no thank you

well , 7PM . you know what that means ? CODE LYOKO TIME

today they aired sabotage , and i'm honestly kind of surprised they aired that one in the first place ? i mean , this scene where yumi gets trapped by vines and . well the scene is kinda weird . but well the only chapter they've skipped so far is cold war . then , we just watched two more episodes of evo . we made jokes and it was fun ! sister finally got to know laura . that fucker .

well , then just GOT BACK TO THE THING rendering rendering rendering

scriabin's shirt was a different color ! idk it just didn't look right . well it kinda does nnnow but

10PM . . . unreal to know that i started working on this at 1 . HOW DO YOU MANAGE TO SPEND 10 HOURS ( with small breaks ) ON SOMETHING

i was getting super distracted too , out of nowhere i just started doing a bunch of these stupid videos

( don't even ask the context of that drawing please

11 , ALMOST 12AM . FINISHED IT . JUST WANTED TO CHANGE THE BG'S COLOR because i didn't want them to be in my usual purple void . maybe a brown void would suit him better .

oh , i was watching an undertale theory video !! something about the true lab and who really wrote the entries we read . it was SUPER INTERESTING and like two hours long . before that , i was watching youtuber drama videos and listening to the subdigitals lol

did the scribbly thing on edgar's pants and well it's fine i think

i want these to look more polished so i'm not rendering hair the way i used to . . . maybe i should go back to the old way

and we have our finished piece ! late , but it's there and finished !

with and without the filter i added . nothing too noticeable . . . just a small amount of blur and something to make the colors a tiny bit more saturated .

look ! a comparison of every pretty drawing i've made of them .

i feel like the only things that changed is the colors and the fact that now i do draw their noses properly

overall . this one was impossible to work with . i still need to make the piece for void but instead i spent an hour and a half rambling

i am also kinda sleepy . . . ugh . it might go away if i draw something i like .

ALSO someone pqrted my post 12 times interesting

this entry wasn't really interesting . . . i'm sleepy . bye

edit : i fell asleep on my desk for a second . yeah i'll try to get yesterday's piece when I wake up

[jimmychoo-dell]

I got this idea long ago (that I will never put on a fic obvi :)).

After the all Valley, Johnny actually properly apologised to Daniel and they became close friends. When they graduated, they were still meeting up (Okinawa trip forgotten-). Christmas was around the corner and Daniel was insisting for Johnny to come with them (his ma and himself) to new Jersey so they can spend it together with his family, and Johnny could actually have a REAL Christmas with a REAL winter.

Daniel:" you never saw real snow?!"

Johnny:" So what?....I've never travel out of California if it wasn't for one of Sid stupid expensive trip to Greece or France....{which mom insisted to bring me along.}"

He finally accepted to go with him and went to new Jersey. Johnny got spoiled by compliments from pratically every members of Larusso family (except Louis who was jealous of him because he was a big blond pretty boy so he didn't stop to teasing him by saying that he was gay for Daniel.....whish was not totally wrong-)

The person who was always with Johnny was actually Daniel's nonna. (Daniel got a lot to do to help the family around, eapecially in kitchen) She always make sure that he eat properly. (too much- really too much.

Daniel:" your cheeks became more round"* found it cute-*

Johnny:" Nonna don't want me to starve."

Daniel:" you call her Nonna now?"

Johnny:" she wanted me to, who am I to say no to a lady?")

The funny part is that nonna forgot all the time that Johnny doesn't know a word in italian. She usually sat on the couch with him and had her best conversation with a confused Johnny who keeps nodding to don't looks like an idiot or someone impolite.

Nonna: (talk in italian)" this boy is adorable, he always listen to me and got time to take care of me"

Lucille: (talk in italian)" oh really....*have noticed that she talks 100% in italian with him* {poor boy}"

And last think, Johnny, Daniel and Nonna went for a walk every morning. Johnny let Nonna holding on his arm and Daniel walking on Johnny other side. He sometimes slip and get caught by a strong built arm.

Daniel: "I didn't needed your help. I wasn't about to fall. *was about to fall*"

Johnny:" sure Daniel, welcome to save your little ass *wink, still holding him in case* {He is so tiny..}"

Daniel:"*blushe a little, pulls himself away and huff* whatever you say blondy"

Nonna: "*is looking at the sunrise*"

//I am really sorry for my grammatical faults. I'm still learning how to write properly in English :') (not like I was a head in french-) if someone could help me to correct myself I would take the help :'D//

[sourxpickles]

Just One More Time

Paring: Portgas D. Ace x Reader

Synopsis: you wrote a letter wishing him a happy birthday, knowing that he’ll never read it/ no warnings just angsty

HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY TO MY BABY ACE

One Piece spoilers below

Dear Ace,

Happy birthday my love, it's been awhile since i've written or have even come to see you.

How are you doing? Are you having fun? I miss you alot. I didn't think waking up and doing daily tasks could be such a draining and difficult thing to do. Don't be too mad at me. It’s just that some days are easier than others but they all sort of end the same, with you not in them. So it’s been very difficult.

In other news Luffy beat Kaido and became a yonko! I know you would've loved to see and hear about your baby brother getting closer to his dream. He also ended up meeting Yamato and Otama, isn't this such a small world. Well, it was bound to happen I guess. Oh, I also heard that Sabo might be in trouble. Knowing your youngest sibling, I know he wouldn't let anything happen to him. The New World has definitely become more hectic now. I would've loved to see you doing stuff also.

What else, oh I took up gardening.

Do you remember that one night on pops ship, we were talking about what niche hobbies we look like we’d do and you told me that I look like I would be a gardener if I wasn't a pirate. I'm still insulted by that statement by the way, but anyways I took your blasphemous idea of me being a gardener and implemented it. You would be so proud. I must say it's not as bad as I thought. Hard labor for sure but in a way it's sort of relaxing.

If you were curious about what I grew, it's hibiscus. Pink hibiscus to be exact. I remember you telling me stories about your mom that Garp told you and thought it was a good idea. I'm thinking of planting them near your grave, as a little extra umph. Also so you can have another piece of something by your side so you don't get lonely. It's a good idea right?

Um I don't know what else to tell you, aside from the fact that I miss you.

I miss you so much Ace, it's so painful. You always said to live life without any regrets but I don't think I can do it anymore. Everything feels meaningless without you here. Everything reminds me of you. I don't know if I wanna drown myself in things that remind me of you or starve myself of your presence.

Just one more time I want to hear your laugh.

What I would give to have you take me on another random adventure when we go to a new island. To have your head in my lap, peppering your face with kisses, telling you how much you mean to me. Using our own verbal and non-verbal ways that we would say I Love You. Running and hiding from other crew members because you wanted to prank them. Stealing food from the kitchen at 4am, just soaking in each other's presence. I miss that.

I thought it would get easier the more I gave it time but I guess I have to actually make peace with the fact that i'll never get to do those things with you anymore. Since i've started writing this I don't want to end it because it feels like i'm saying goodbye to you once again. I didn't want to make this very long but it seems that I had a lot of stuff to get off my chest. You always did say that was a feature you loved of mine. So instead of saying goodbye, i'll talk to you later, my sweet baby boy.

Rest well Ace

Love, [Name].

writing this actually made me cry a lot. i can’t wait to write more for my baby🫶🏿

[adaptive-dragonet]

Living without dread 24/7 has changed my fucking LIFE. I cannot emphasize how much dread fucked me up when it was practically the only feeling I had for weeks on end. I didn’t take care of myself, I just avoided my thoughts with mind-numbing mobile games or created an artificial moodscape with music. I didn’t sleep so tomorrow wouldn’t come. I couldn’t sleep without meds and music.

It was so hard to do the actual things I was dreading bc of my undiagnosed ADHD and being pushed to do things the neurotypical way was getting me a few squares backwards. My procrastination was at an all-time high because chipping away at the insurmountable pile of things was like wallowing in undiluted dread that I could be blocking out. People said “You just gotta buckle down” and I’d mentally shoot back “Into an emotional breakdown? Work smarter not harder.”

Then my lil brother got diagnosed with ADHD and my mom was doing a ton of research on how to work with his brain. She showed me a site that described various types of ADHD, and how it’s typically different in women vs. little boys. Always ready to plunge into a rabbit hole, I read up a bunch on it myself (something was resonating with me, which made me even more curious), and that made the YouTube algorithm reveal ADHD simulators and short films. “Wait… this isn’t how normal people think??”

Then I started trying more ways people with ADHD did things. I switched between the things on my to-do list every 5-15 minutes to keep my brain fresh. I celebrated every step towards finishing something instead of comparing it to what I had left. I listened to music or did a nonmental task at the same time as my more tedious homework, often both. I drank coffee whenever I needed adrenaline for a few minutes, instead of just to keep myself awake in the morning. Etc.

And it was sloppy and inefficient at FIRST, when I was still being clumsy with myself. But then as I started paying more attention to where my brain was at and what would make it get in the gear I needed, things started getting done. The only problem was dread had long since been a cemented habit. Even now that things were doable since I had the tools, I procrastinated and numbed my mind and feared that each assignment could take an hour of unproductive struggling with myself.

And then something came up and my parents and I had beef with my school, and they started homeschooling me again. My socially starved side was devastated, but between co-op and a couple other arrangements, that was taken care of. After a few weeks, I’ve realized… with the total change of system, my habitual dread isn’t triggered anymore!

I can sleep and wake up rested??! I can feel hunger?!? I can CARE ABOUT THE THINGS THAT MAKE ME HAPPY?!!

Guys.

This is the best transition for my mental health EVER.

I had NO IDEA that the amount of dread I was feeling wasn't normal, until I didn't have it anymore.

THIS IS CRAZY :D

[yours-psyche]

// tw: disordered eating, body horror, graphic imagery

Three summers now in this town, I've yearned for different boys. I've lost my mind so many times, the walls echo the catches of my throat. I hate the mirror. I pray it's broken, distorted, so that what I see in it is not true. I've never thought myself worth looking at. The hands on my body thus far have felt like charity, like lust, despite the vessel that holds me. Despite the sags of my stomach and sides or the roughness of my skin, the pooling swells of my arms. Like clay that hasn't quite dried up. I wish the kiln would break me, burn me alive so that I may start over.

I've starved myself, but it wasn't enough. I'm doing better now; I feed myself meat and fruit and pastries. I feed myself pretty thoughts, so that pretty might take root in my stomach; I love my body. I wouldn't ban all that reflected. I wouldn't skin a skinny girl alive, pluck the nerves off her limbs one by one and step into her flesh, if only for a day, just so that I would know what it felt like. I don't look at the pictures in which I took up half of what I do now and want to carve into myself with a steak knife, cut off all the excess, bleed to death but bleed prettily, delicately, like a bunny, not a cow. I will die, so let me die like something worth looking at, a small thing, a poor thing worth pitying.

I will die someday. I will die a million things. I will die a daughter, a wife, a mother, maybe; I will die a musician, a poet, a dreamer. But it is not enough. I will never die beautiful. I will never die a pretty girl, and it has long since killed me. I will never understand, but I will never leave it behind me. I'm the artist and never the muse. I'm the writer and never the poem. I will never turn heads, I will never cause sighs; the men will always walk past and the women will never be envious. I am more than skin in fabrics, but they strangle me all the same, the way they never sit right, too tight, always too tight. The dress on the very last hanger, in the darkest corner of the rack, hiding from the world even in its lack of consciousness. The pants that fit my hips but not my waist because they weren't made with me in mind, because these hips weren't supposed to exist. Because a body like mine doesn't look right in the frame. This world wasn't made with me in mind, and it reminds me every day.

Its messenger, an angel of death; that picture of me in the coral red dress, in the dressing room. Bright red, striking against the background, like a warning sign, like a venomous flower. It was on sale, and it fit. The mesh panels sat on my waist just right, my breasts fit the too-small cups. My jaw didnt droop in the corners. I was sharp at the shoulders, easy on the eyes. Delicate, at last. Frail, a sweet girl not meant to stand in the sun too long. Sickly, just a little, just enough! Dizzy, so I may rest on someone's arm, fit into someone's kind embrace. I loved it. It looked foreign, it looked like someone else, it looked good on me. It was easy, like a game; one meal less, one more day in the sun, one day where they'd all feel sorry. Under all the fat, pulled like a curtain, were bones, pretty ones. All along, within me, a pretty girl was hiding. I was beautiful, I knew I could do it- I knew you, all of you, were wrong. It was right there, in the picture.

And then in a flash, it was gone. I got weak, scared, and the pretty girl hid under layers and layers again. A prison it is, this body, this game. A cycle I will never break. No amount of progress, of sets or reps, no claims of health will fix it. I dream of her. I want her back. I know- I just learned to eat breakfast, and I just started to sleep right, and my mom just stopped worrying. But sharp as a blade, sweet as death, she haunts me, comes to me in mirrors. Whispers in my ear that she's just dying to be born anew, bloom from my blood and innards like Aphrodite from the seafoam. A ghost, a temptress. Heaven's door and guardkeep.

A siren I don't know how much longer I can resist.

[noor1ee]

I think there's always been an innate desire in me to be pretty. Ever since I was a child, my brain had been fucked up by all the overwhelming beauty standards. I remember seeing all the tall, pretty girls on the screen with their perfect teeth, bodies, and skin. I remember squeezing out bottles of cream, hysterically applying them all over my body for my stretch marks to disappear. I begged my mom to do something about the pigmentation on my knees and stomach so that they wouldn't look ugly anymore. I never went out to play because I was scared that I would fall and the cuts would leave marks on my body and my skin would tan. My resentment towards myself grew as i realized how much more there was wrong with me with each passing day. I cried into my pillow at night because none of the things i did gave any result and I would recoil every time I looked at my body in the mirror. I starved myself and ran during P.E. until my body gave out so I could look like the girls in magazines. It scares me now when I look back, realizing just how much 9-year-old me felt. In addition, I had no one to run or talk to because I never realized how wrong this was on so many levels, that I wasn't supposed to feel so wretched. Although I've grown up and know better now, the years of internalized insecurity linger and never go away. I still want to tear my body apart and dissect each part so I can finally, at last, understand where it all went wrong.