#I've started doing it with my thrifted books

[andtothoseilove]

sometimes I'm jealous of readers who have a system for annotating because my monkey brain just slaps a sticky tab on everything that stands out. Is it plot-related, character-related, a good quote???? Idk man, sticky tab

[raiiny-bay]

making something (maybe)

[lucybellwood]

Lemme tell you a gay little story about an eagle.

Our town (~9,000 people) has a couple garages, but there's a big one on the main drag. My family has been going there for decades. I drive past it every day.

There used to be a huge pine tree on the corner of their lot, but last year it became a hazard and had to be taken down.

Shortly thereafter I drive by and see they've hired a guy to chainsaw sculpt the stump into a bald eagle.

Birds own my heart, but nationalism makes me twitchy. I withhold outright condemnation of the eagle, but I'm skeptical. (The original owner—an objectively Good Dude—sold the business to a younger couple a few years ago, and I don't have any knowledge of their whole deal.)

Then it turns out someone on staff is really into making costumes for the eagle. Every holiday. Every month. Stuffed turkey, witch costume, menorah headpiece, bunny ears. These people love to dress their bird.

The changing of the eagle suit becomes a source of joy every time I drive through town.

Until June, when the eagle is bare.

Now look, maybe I'm expecting too much asking my garage to celebrate Pride. But this is a small town. Every time I drive by that stupid eagle—this thing that has previously brought me so much joy—I feel hurt. I feel reminded that there are plenty of people in my liberal bubble who don't consider my community worthy of celebration. I drive to work, I feel bad. I drive home, I feel bad. The eagle is mocking me.

Then my A/C quits working.

So I book an appointent to bring my car in—and realize what I have to do.

I pick all this up at a thrift store for under ten bucks. I print the shirt with some weird heat-transfer fabric crayons I find in a cupboard. I loop gold elastic around the sunglasses and pray they'll fit on the eagle's head. (It is also important to draw your attention to the price of the feather boa.)

(Nice.)

My reasoning is thus: if I show up with a complete costume ready to go, someone will have to look me in the eye and say "We don't believe in that," at which point I'll be finding a new garage. But if they let me dress the eagle, then people in town get to have the joy I've been missing since the start of the month.

I listen to a lot of hype-up jams on my way over. I hate confrontation. I also don't wanna have to find another garage. I want to believe that this decision isn't actively antagonistic, but I'm not particularly hopeful.

I talk through the A/C issue with the guy at the desk, hand over my keys, then take a deep breath.

"Who's in charge of the eagle?"

"Oh, that's all Dylan. Second bay from the end."

I walk down the row of hydraulic lifts and find a disarmingly smiley middle-aged man pouring fluid through a funnel. I introduce myself and explain that, since the Pride parade is this Sunday and the eagle seems to be missing a costume, I have taken the liberty of making one myself, and can I get his blessing to go put it on?

Dylan grins this absolutely giant grin and goes

"Oh hell yeah."

So that's what's up now.

Happy Pride.

[kleefkruid]

Every fun post on here that encourages people to have hobbies/be creative always gets an avalanche of "Some people are poor Karen" type reactions and respectfully, you're all super annoying. I've never lived above the poverty line and this is a list of hobbies I have that were cheap or entirely free:

Read books: Go to the library, lend a book from a friend

knitting, crochet, embroidery: Get some needles from the bargan store and ask around, people have leftovers from projects they'll happily give you. Thrift stores also often carry leftover fabric and other supplies. And talk about your hobby loud enough and an old lady will show up and gift you their whole collection, because there are way more old ladies with a closet full of wool than there are grandchildren who want to take up the hobby.

Origami/paper crafts: get some scrap paper and scissors, watch a youtube tutorial

walking: put on shoes open door

pilates/yoga/etc: get a mat or just use your carpet, watch a youtube tutorial

Houseplants: look online for people that swap plant cuttings. There are always people giving out stuff for free to get you started. If you're nice enough you'll probably get extra

gardening: You're gonna need some space for this one of course but you can just play around with seeds and cuttings from your grocery vegetables.

aquarium keeping is a bit of an obscure one but I got most of my stuff second hand for cheap or free and now I have a few thousand euro worth of material and plants.

drawing/art: You get very far just playing with bargan store materials. I did my entire art degree with mostly those.

writing: Rotate a cow in your head for free

cooking: again one you can make very expensive, but there are many budget recipes online for free. Look for African or Asian shops to get good rice and cheap spices.

Join a non-profit: Cities will have creative organisations who let you use woodworking machines or screen presses or laser cutters or 3D printers etc etc etc for a small fee. Some libraries also lend out materials.

candle making: You need some molds (cheap), wick, two old cooking pots for au bain marie melting and a ton of scrap candles, ask people to keep them aside for you.

a herbarium, flower pressing: Leaves are free, wildflowers too, ask if you can take from peoples gardens.

puzzles: thrift stores, your grandma probably

Citizen science: look for projects in your area or get the iNaturalist app

And lastly and most importantly: Share! Share your supllies, share your knowledge. Surround yourself with other creative people and before you know it someone will give you a pot of homemade jam and when you want to paint your kabinet someone will have leftover paint in just the right color and you can give them a homemade candle in return and everyone is having fun and building skills and friendships and not a cent is exchanged. We have always lived like this, it's what humans are build to do.

And all of it sure beats sitting behind a computer going "No stranger, I refuse to let myself have a good time."

Anyway I'm logging off bc I'm making some badges for a friend who cooked for me and then I'm going to fix some holes in everyones clothes.

[starlit-mansion]

I slept for more than 5 hours consecutively for the first time in like a week and i feel like an entirely different person that i'd forgotten how to be

[aethersea]

I've always wanted to learn bookbinding, ever since I was a wee little nerd, but there are a lot of things I've always wanted to learn, and this one has both a daunting upfront materials cost and a daunting upfront research cost. however, my sister is a jewel among siblings and gave me for christmas last year a handy dandy bookbinding manual, a block of good paper, and a little bag of tools.

but I still didn't have a suitable workspace, nor any of the many important tools and materials that she didn't include in her gift. so I just read the manual and pined. until maybe a month ago I got fed up with pining, flattened a cardboard box for a cutting mat, and went to town.

and I'm real proud of myself, so here's me rambling, plus photos!

I went to the thrift store and got glue + some fabric to bind the cover, went to Michaels for a paintbrush (and later went back for a metal ruler lmao it's amazing how useful it is to have a straightedge for cutting the paper), and...could not find material for the cover boards. so I went home and pined some more. but the urges were too strong, so after a couple hours of moping I got a stack of printer paper at the grocery store (I could not bring myself to use the good paper for my first, inevitably weak attempts, I just couldn't do it) and started making a little booklet. which was a great idea, it turned out, since it makes for good practice with cutting the paper, measuring things, punching holes in the signatures, etc.

I have a big box of greeting cards from Michaels, which I used for the covers. it didn't feel like I was making a Real Book, so I got some colored paper from the stationery store and used that for end papers.

so fancy~

galvanized by this success, I ordered a stack of chipboard online to use for cover boards; and once I was confident that I could cut paper without making it look too stupid (getting that straightedge ruler sure helped lol), I made signatures out of the good paper, left them under some heavy books overnight since I don't have a book press, and then punched holes in them! (huzzah for this nice video on getting the holes right)

my sister's gift included good linen thread. it's unwaxed, but after some poking around on r/bookbinding it looks like that just means I'll have to be more careful to avoid tangles and keep good tension. I am fine with this. I can be extra attentive. (I considered just running it over a beeswax candle, but one commenter said if your wax has paraffin in it, it could melt in a hot car, ruining the spine. I can't guarantee my candle is 100% beeswax, I didn't make it, so maybe we just move on.)

I don't have good linen fabric to use for the tapes, but the important part there is that the fabric be thin, sturdy, and not stretchy. the probably-cotton I got from the thrift store fits the bill, so it'll do!

this is a french link stitch, which I got from this exceedingly good tutorial. apparently it's strong enough on its own that for a book of this size, I don't actually need tapes, but I'd already cut the things so eh here we are. and tapes plus french link will make it a stronger binding still (according to a friendly redditor on r/bookbinding), so we carry on.

specifically we carry on to the gluing step. now as I mentioned, I do not have a book press, and you....kinda need one for this step. you need to hold the book block in place with the signatures facing upwards, pressed together hard enough that the glue won't run down between them and stick the pages together (though you do want the glue to get between them just a little, just for like a 16th of an inch). you at least need some clamps and a couple boards to sandwich the book block with.

but you know what? I'm not a professional, this is my first ever book, if it's a little bit off it'll be fine. so we grab all the heaviest books off the bookshelf and improvise.

it's fine! I'm sure it's fine! and just in case it's not, I've tucked a bit of cardboard underneath to catch any glue that drips down so it won't land on the floor. see? I'm prepared! I'm acing this.

and actually, it really was fine. I used clear elmer's glue, applied with a flat paintbrush from the art supplies aisle at Michael's, and frankly I liked the way the flat paintbrush let me slip glue in between the signatures. I did poke around on a couple bookbinding sites to see what kind of glue I should use, and the gist is that although there are better options than this, elmer's glue is perfectly serviceable, and the main downside is it's not archival grade. but I don't need my first bookbinding attempts to last 200 years, that's fine.

the next step is to add the mull. mull is a specific type of fabric – extremely loose-weave linen – and the idea is to paste it down over the spine to essentially hold the tapes and signatures all in place in relation to each other.

but I don't have mull! so I'm using more of the thrift store probably-cotton, because it's thin enough and not really stretchy at all. I'm sure this will be fine too. I painted a layer of glue onto the spine, then left it to dry a bit while I measured and cut the fabric, then painted a generous stripe of glue down the center, where it'll affix onto the spine. then I added a bit more glue to the spine, just to be sure, and pressed the mull into place, rubbing it thoroughly to make sure it's firmly affixed to every signature, with no creases in the fabric or air bubbles beneath it.

honestly I might have overdone it on the glue. I've never done this before, I don't know! I think it's okay, though – I tried not to ever let it become a thick layer, just a slight coating, since the danger of too much glue is that it might crack once dry and weaken the spine.

and now we leave it in the press overnight to dry, and pick up the next step in the morning!

[renthony]

On Cosplay, Fast Fashion, & Waste

Fast fashion and disposable outfits in cosplay community spaces give me anxiety. Seeing people openly talk about throwing their "trashed" cosplay away after a single con makes me sad. Some costumes are crafted with such low durability that they fall apart beyond repair if you look at them the wrong way. I've met a ton of other cosplayers whose idea of "cosplay repair" ends with a stapler and some hot glue.

I never ever ever ever want to shame people for not knowing something. Crafting is hard. Making a low-quality costume isn't a sin or a crime. If you're new and still learning and don't really know what you're doing yet, that's fine! No harm, no foul, no bruise.

The cosplayers who do make me grouchy, however, are the ones who are unwilling to try. The ones who are flippant about throwing away a cosplay without trying to mend it, repurpose it, reuse it, or pass it along. The ones who intentionally make a costume just durable enough to last a single day, then toss it in the trash with zero thought.

My sewing and costuming experience started when I joined the ren faire, and I had to make my costumes sturdy enough to survive multiple weeks of heavy use, with the durability and freedom of movement to allow sword fighting on the living chessboard. I was taught how to shop for inexpensive fabrics and materials, but use high-quality, long-lasting techniques so that my costumes didn't disintegrate after a single day of performing. I have made extremely durable, cost-effective costumes out of bedsheets and thrift store fabric, as have many of my friends.

That experience has carried over into my cosplay. I am not happy with a costume unless it can go through three consecutive days of stage combat and high-intensity walking around outside in the heat, go through the washer and dryer, and come out completely unscathed.

Again, I never want to needlessly shit on other people's cosplay. Cosplay gatekeeping sucks and is no fun for anyone. At the same time, fast fashion is just as rampant in cosplay as it is everywhere else, and it sucks to see how wasteful it is.

You can make things durable even with cheap materials. Stop making flimsy costumes that you're just going to toss. Stop making piles and piles of waste. Please stop buying fabric just to slap a costume together with glue and throw it in the trash. If you are going to invest time and money into making something by hand, make it durable and comfy and worth the effort.

Even if you only want to personally wear it once, you can sell it, give it away, trade it, do something other than toss it in the trash. Show some love to your costumes, show some love to the planet, pick one action you can take to make your cosplay a little less wasteful. Being obsessed with the myth of a "personal carbon footprint" isn't helpful, but we as cosplayers should try to at least make things that'll last longer than 24 hours.

I understand that sewing can be incredibly intimidating, but basic stitching really isn't that complicated if you have a guide and the right tools. I personally need assistive devices for sewing thanks to my hand tremors and tendonitis, but those tools do exist, and can make things easier for both disabled and newbie sewists. I use rotary cutters instead of scissors, I keep a supply of needle threaders on hand, I have multiple little gadgets that help me sew in a straight line so my shaking hands don't screw everything up. There are tons of tools available, tons of tutorials online, and if you're interested in learning, there's a whole world out there to explore.

If you don't want to do all the crafting yourself, that's totally fine, but if you are going to hand-make your costume, you should try and make it durable. It's better for the planet and it's way less stressful to go to an event when you know your costume won't fall apart on the con floor.

If you have zero idea where to start, here are some books with crafting techniques I've found very useful, both in cosplay and regular household sewing I do for my family:

Make, Sew and Mend: Traditional Techniques to Sustainably Maintain and Refashion Your Clothes, by Bernadette Banner (who also has an incredible YouTube channel)

Cosplay Fabric FX: Painting, Dyeing & Weathering Costumes Like a Pro, by Julianna Franchini

Creative Cosplay: Selecting & Sewing Costumes Way Beyond Basic, by Amanda Haas

Level Up! Creative Cosplay: Costume Design & Creation, SFX Makeup, LED Basics & More, by Amanda Haas

[piastappies]

okay, so i would like to request a theodore nott x reader where reader is like this kind of shy, studious type of girl and theo has had a crush on her for the longest time? like, he always sees her muttering the answers to professors questions and studying in the library and reading in every corner of the castle. maybe she gets dragged to a party by one of her more extroverted friends and ends up hiding away in the corner where theo comes and puts the moves on her?

i've read a few of your fics and adored them, you are such a good writer <33 if you can't get to this ask, i understand. i hope this finds your well <33

🗺️ SMALL WORLDS

synopsis. being an introvert pushed into a crowd of over extraverts isn’t what you imagined doing on a friday night. good thing that theodore nott seems to be the best extrovert you could ever find to be around.

notes. theodore nott x shy!reader. kind of high school!au

req. i’m like. so in love with that request. liz i love you. its all i needed in my life to feel completed. hope i exceeded ur expectations 🕺 also pride n prejudice reference??

oh.

theo didn’t expect to see you there. you were never a party person, you hardly ever went out to hogsmeade with your friends or paid attention to something that wasn’t your thrifted, muggle books. however now, you were standing all dolled up in the corner of the room, surrounded by gwen and betty, – who wanted to make sure you’d be okay on your own – anxiously scanning the common room, when the two girls left you.

something in his mind could tell him that the party wasn’t exactly your cup of tea, the huge, loud crowd you were pushed into was probably just giving you a hard time adjusting to the atmosphere. it wasn’t hard to notice as your eyes couldn’t focus on one thing, hands trembled and you were getting pale, so you had to sit on the emerald chair.

“it’s not nice to stare.” pansy nudged him in his ribcage teasingly, catching his attention almost immediately. his best friend had her arm wrapped around ginny weasley’s waist and a drunken smile spread over her lips. “go get ‘er tiger.” she added, watching him roll his eyes and walk somewhere.

maybe he stared a little. and maybe he made it a little too obvious — or obvious enough to get teased for it by his friends. he had to keep his cool or he would probably scare the shit out of you for being such a creep who just stared. not only at the moment, but also in class when you sit somewhere in front of him, or at the slytherin table.

and, to just make clear that theo has been interested in the curious creature you were, he even started coming to the library more often, staying there and pretending to read, when he couldn’t, so utterly distracted by the way your eyes move, or the way you have to take breaks to react to the book you’re reading, or the way you sometimes look his way, but look away the second you make eye contact.

theodore nott has never been a shy type of guy — overly confident, always hanging out with the elite, and looking above on everybody. or maybe that’s what everyone thought, because when he was to make a few steps in your direction, all the traits people knows him for were gone. he felt like a little kid, who wanted to ask his mom a big, important question, but couldn’t let it out of him.

his legs felt wobbly, making him as confused as it was possible. he’s never experienced anything like that over a girl who’s doubtlessly more into the book on her lap than she’d ever been into him. a stupid smile appeared on nott’s face the second you brought your gaze higher, falling on his lightly flushed face.

“uh, hi.” you struggled to let out, a little flustered that he came up to you like that. having closed the book, your gaze fell on his face one more time, analysing who you’re talking to, though it didn’t take too long to figure out it was theodore nott.

“hey.” he replied, shamelessly taking a seat next to you. for the fifteen seconds he was walking there, he thought about all the possibilities of conversation, but then? he just sat next to her silently for half a minute. “doin’ alright?” a question left his lips.

“i–, uh. kind of.” you lied, stuttering at the same time.

of course you knew theodore nott, who didn’t? he was a friend of mattheo and draco, a lacrosse player and a smart-talker. never studying, but always perfect on tests. and, in addition to top it all – undeniably handsome that keeping eyes off him was like a death sentence.

his eyes rolled in playfulness. “funny. you look more than just miserable.” the boy commented, his eyes fixated on your face as he speaks. “would you mind if i keep you company?” theo flashed you a cheeky smile and you just shook your head silently, watching him as he took a closer seat.

“you don’t have to speak.” nott added quickly, seeing a piece of distress at him keeping you company, and the way your hands gripped the cup you held. “you can just… act like you listen to whatever i’m sayin’, that’s fine with you?” his head tilted to the side waiting for a most likely short answer.

once you agreed or maybe it’s better to say once you didn’t refuse, he started rambling, rambling and rambling, trying so hard to make you laugh — chuckle, at least. oh and was he so proud of himself when he finally did. and minutes after that, you started replying to him more often, and god, it sent him to heaven, even though he was the one speaking much more, hearing you reply once in a while was enough.

the music was getting louder with each second, and he took you out for a walk, showing you around a little, because you were not exactly from that part of the town. “you smoke?” he asked, and he knew the answer immediately. you didn’t, but you nodded, waiting till he extends his hand with the pack of cigarettes.

you brought the cigarette to your parted lips, feeling his gaze on you. the motive for the whole smoking part was completely unknown to you — you never smoked, neither did you want to, but how could you ever say no to theodore nott, when he ditched the party to talk to you.

so… somehow, it led you to do what you can to impress him. you took a drag, feeling his eyes on you, and… started coughing so much you had to hold his arm for a few seconds to keep your composure. you could see theo trying his best not to laugh at your poor attempt at smoking. his teeth dig into his bottom lip as he bit back a smile, not wanting to make you feel bad.

“it’s better that way.” he nudged your side lightly, trying to cheer you up, seeing the embarrassment painting all over your face. “someone really doesn’t want you to smoke up there.” theo joked, making the corners of your lips curve a little upwards.

there was a comfortable silence between the two of you for some time, just walking around the town, enjoying each other’s presence until he finally decided to give it a break. “you’re not the type to party.” theodore stated, giving you a side glance. “lost a bet or something?” he asked, his left eyebrows lifted.

you walked beside him, hands laced behind your back as he asks the question. you couldn’t help but tilted your head slightly to the side to take a better view of him — of his sharp jawline, high cheekbones, those beautiful eyes of his and those lips— shit. you almost forgot he asked you a question and maybe even worse, noticed you staring.

“no.” he got a little head shake for an answer, before you found yourself revealing even more. “just promised my friends i’d go out with them.”

to theo, it sounded like something you’d do. even though he hardly ever spoke more than few words to you, he’s been perceptive and watching you in class was something he did most of the time, the reason behind it? his crush fell too deep to not continue looking for an opportunity to make a move.

“mhmm.” he mumbled under his breath, turning his face to look at you, a smile creeping onto his lips. “to be fair, despite the visible discomfort on your face, you look real pretty.” theo gave you a cheeky smile, before adding. “though, comfort looks so much better on you.”

shit. this motherfucker. his smooth way with words got you blushing from the top of your head down to your toes. before you could even stutter an answer, you felt the fuzzy insides of his coat on your shoulders. it felt so unreal yet so realistic at the same time. were you dreaming? you wish you weren’t.

“is it really that visible?” a soft sigh has left your lips, stopping in your tracks to look at him. “nah, just if someone has been paying attention to you before, they’ll notice.” the boy shrugged, your cheeks growing even hotter.

he’s been paying attention to you. theodore nott, the slytherin, has been paying enough attention to you to notice how uncomfortable you were in gwen’s dress. his cheeky smile got even cheekier as you were processing everything in your mind, the two of you standing in front of each other in the middle of the pavement.

your lips were slightly parted as you tried to think of something to say without embarrassing yourself more. you didn’t even catch the moment when he leaned a little closer until the two of you were inches away. “theo…?” a quiet whisper escaped your lips, your head tilted upwards to look at him.

“i’ve been infatuated with you for a while now.” confessed theodore, your breath hitching in your throat. what now? “it’s not the ‘i like you’ talk, it’s the mr. darcy’s ‘you’ve bewitched me, body and soul’ talk. i’m not myself when you’re not around.” his words are like honey on your ears, his hand finding yours, your eyes never leaving his.

“you like jane austen?” you giggled, accidentally interrupting his confession.

“y/n.” he groaned. “please, can i kiss you? i don’t think i’ll be able to breathe without it.” theo seemed desperate, but you couldn’t mind, it was theo who wanted to kiss you, the guy you always stared, when no one looked, the only guy that ever appeared in your dreams.

it took him just a small nod from you to lower his head and crush his lips into yours. at first, you could feel all the emotions he wanted you to feel — the desperation, the need, and the happiness that came with finally being able to kiss you. his fingers found its way to your hair, pulling you even closer as your lips moved against his so perfectly.

if it wasn’t for your fist that gripped the fabric of his collar, you’d probably pass out from the sensation of his mouth on yours. you had to break out for a few seconds to catch some air, but this time — you were the one who kissed him, standing on your tiptoes, kissing him like your life depends on it. he tasted like the liquor he had drunk before you two got away, and menthol cigarettes.

his forehead is resting against yours, after the two of you finally pull away yet so slightly. “were you for real?”

“i have never been as for real as i am right now, y/n. if being so enamoured with you was a crime, i’d be facing lifetime.”

[6okuto]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeyFC7mc/ this but with keiji 🫣

(link :3) Stop. i literally have a multi-chara plan in a doc for this rn. STOPP MY KEIJI :((

a little suggestive, gn!reader

keiji didn't have a bad day, and when he's expected to join four different meetings in the next couple of weeks, alongside editing longer chapters than usual in time for this week's publication, not having a bad day is all he can really ask for.

though, maybe there's one thing, one privilege he'll always ask for at the end of the day to make it a little better.

"keiji!"

your voice rings clear as you jog to meet him at the entrance, slippers loud against the wooden floor. he hangs up his jacket just in time for you to grab his hands with a grin— "c'mere, i need you for a minute."

his lips form a half-smile, even as he furrows his brows while you pull him into the living room. "no 'hello'? no 'how was your day?'"

you turn to look over your shoulder. "hi, baby, how was your day?"

"it was okay, could've been better. thanks for asking. how was yours?"

"mm, could've been better, too. but i'm gonna make your day right now, sit down."

and he does, of course; he lets his bag fall off his shoulder and land on the rug, untucks his shirt and pushes up his glasses that have fallen down the slope of his nose. all the while, you take a seat beside him, close enough that your thighs touch, and balance your phone on the coffee table against the books that keiji thrifted a week ago.

he makes sure he isn't staring at you when you finally turn the camera on.

"wanna record a video with me?"

"people usually ask that before setting up the camera," he points out, "but, yeah, okay. do i have to do anything?"

"no, well, yes, but it isn't hard or anything. i'll explain when i hit record."

and before he can ask if this is another prank trend, you've started recording with a smile on your face.

"hi, guys! so, i saw this trend going around, and i wanted to try it out."

keiji narrows his eyes.

"basically, i have my husband here, say hi, keiji."

"hello- wait—"

"and he's going to list off his favourite colognes, and i'm gonna rank them!" you turn to face him, feigning innocence you know you don't hold. "go ahead, babe."

it's obvious what's going on, what this video is really supposed to be. he knows, and yet he can't stop from looping that word in his head again—

husband.

husband?

his eyes flicker down to your ring finger, then back up to your eyes.

keiji thinks he's stopped breathing.

he has stopped, actually—he's doing it manually, telling his brain to let out the carbon dioxide in his lungs for oxygen.

in,

husband-

out,

husband-

in-

would you like him as your husband?

out-

it's a push and pull, and when he thinks he can manage to say something, a "seriously?" or "well, the one i bought recently has a vanilla note that i've been enjoying," you make eye contact with him through the screen. again—

"c'mon, husband."

his head drops to your shoulder, and he pouts at the immediate laughter that follows.

"what's wrong, keiji?"

arms wrap around you, a hand finding its way to rest on your hip. "stop."

"stop what?"

"i hate you."

"you hate me? guys, my husband hates me, can you believe that?"

"oh my god."

keiji burrows his face into the crook of your neck, and you yelp as he nips at your skin— "keiji!"

your voice makes him pull you closer, hide a little longer, because despite everything, he knows he has a stupid, lovesick grin on his face, and that's something he wants only you to see.

so it's only after you reach to stop the video (with no help from your boyfriend that continues to cling onto you) that keiji finally looks at you, his cheeks flushed pink as he smiles.

then his fingers climb up to your waist, his skin warm against yours under your shirt, and it's your turn to be shocked this time,

"what are you—"

heat travels up your neck as his eyes look down at your lips, and he asks, "can i try to make your day better too?"

[germiyahu]

Actually don't listen to me. I'm an impulse buyer with credit cards. You want a nice looking pitcher and basin to perform the hand washing mitzvot? That's an excellent opportunity to go thrifting! You might even find Judaica there, like a Chanukkiyya perhaps?

You don't want to wait 8 years for Shabbat candles to arrive from Israel? Ask your rabbi! When I asked her if you can reuse a Havdalah candle, she sensed I was worried about the cost of buying all these candles and said her shul has tons of extras.

You absolutely do need a Chumash, a Tanakh, and probably a study Bible too... but Sefaria has all that and more! Especially the Talmud and other Rabbinic sources! It literally blows my mind that this site exists and is free.

But what about all the books on Jewish history and philosophy? What about textbooks for Modern and Biblical Hebrew? See if there are scanned versions online, or go to your local library. Invest in notecards, you're going to want to write down prayers and such, this will especially help if you don't own the books you're studying from.

It's a good idea to have a Siddur, but your shul will most definitely have their own, and as others have told me, you can ask your Rabbi if you can borrow one to take home (make sure to treat it with reverence).

If you want to start baking Challah and are living on your own, or maybe in a dorm room, see if there are community cooking spaces so you don't have to buy your own materials, or just ask your parents if they can gift you some kitchenware because "You want to get into baking."

You literally don't need anything other than a cup that you think is pretty and has meaning to you for the Kiddush. And don't splurge, I've seen hundreds of very attractive Kiddush sets and candle holders and all that for modest prices.

And take it slowly! Don't buy everything at once. We're nowhere near close to Chanukka right now, so don't even put that in your mind. If you want to acquire holiday items, focus on Pesach and worry about other festivals in their due time, let your wallet recover a little. This also goes for Shabbat! You don't need a pristine set of everything all at once, I'm just an idiot. You can slowly build up your perfect beautiful intricate table as the months go by.

[ms-demeanor]

I've been going through the stuff my cousin left here (almost an entire bedroom's worth of stuff when she initially moved but we've managed to sell the crib and changing table and she gave a stroller and a playpen to friends) when she moved out a year ago; I'm posting a bunch of it online to sell and she says I can keep whatever I want from the pile. We are tremendously differently sized people but I don't think I'm going to need to buy a dress or a shirt or a cardigan for like ten years.

However I'm also going slightly insane. I think that I had intellectually understood that a huge part of fast fashion is people buying a ton of clothes that they don't wear more than a couple times but I didn't emotionally grok it until I filled five huge trash bags with all the stuff that wouldn't even be worth it to list but is still brand new (stuff like leggings and tee shirts that nobody is looking for on craigslist but that I would totally buy at a thrift store and that still has the original tags).

I haven't even started working on the toys left behind yet but I have no idea what to do with some of this stuff. It's just trash. Is there anything to do with stuff like happy meal toys and bouncy balls or should this all just go to the landfill? I feel horribly guilty for thinking about throwing away stuff that wasn't even mine. Does anyone have any advice about what to do with used crappy toys? (There are things like racetracks and those little toddler push cars and other stuff that we're either listing online or having a yard sale for, but I'm going nuts what do I do with a plastic knotts berry farm lunchbox full of coin machine toys?)

[i can't say anything about the clothes but in my cousin's defense about the toys she has asked all of the family to literally never give her children toys or clothes as gifts, only books, but their grandmother brings them over brand new toys every time she sees them, which is like four times a week so this isn't 100% my cousin's fault]

[ad-caelestia]

i've spent a lot of time saying "here's what you could do" as a witch versus "here is what i actually do" as a witch, so let's go.

as much as i try to stir my coffee in one direction or another, it always ends up counter-clockwise - instead of seeing it as a mistake, i just work around it by thinking of it like, i'm banishing (counter-clockwise) negativity from my day versus attracting (clockwise) positivity.

i tend to use colors that align with planets versus other folkloric associations - instead of a green candle for money, i'll use a blue one because blue is associated with jupiter which is associated with wealth and good fortune. lucky for me, all the other planets have colors that align appropriately so i don't have to think about those as much (sun - gold, moon - silver, mercury - ehhhhh a mix of like, yellow/violet/indigo, venus - baby pink/mint, mars - red/rust, etc etc.).

i have a money bowl that i redo on the first of every month and i set a cinnamon stick above my front door for prosperity - i have a tiny little angel of a bunny whose health means more to me than the ritualistic act of blowing cinnamon into your home from outside the front door.

my "grimoire" or book of shadows or WHATEVER you wanna call it lives on my computer via onenote and is also scattered through many many notebooks i have collected over the years - if i'm being honest, i am way too picky about my handwriting and messing things up when i am writing in pen that i would just rather keep it somewhere i can type and alt+f to get where i need to go.

my main altar lives on a pretty gold and faux marble bookshelf but honestly, my whole house is my altar - there are sacred spaces at every corner if you know what to look for.

if i want something for my craft, i try to repurpose old things or thrift for them - you'd be amazed what you can do with some of the most basic things (i found my money bowl, which is a crystal dish, at the thrift store for 99 cents); the dollar 25 tree is also a good spot to shop for cheap trinkets.

much of my craft is muscle memory, which has come from YEARS of practice - if i'm cooking and need to use like, basil for example (luck, money, protection), i just kind of already know what it's "good for" and keep that in the front of my mind while i'm cooking so the intent doesn't get buried.

i really REALLY prefer to make my own stuff but that's not always feasible - i really thought the other day that i could just start making candles for myself and had to put that thought on HOLD because let's be real, i'm not doing all that. instead, i will continue to use all the chime candles i have collected over the years instead of immediately going out to find something new.

cleansing ritual who? every time i mop my floor or clean the baseboards or wipe down the counter, i'm cleansing my space. i very much believe that mundane cleaning can be equally as magical and therapeutic if the intent is there.

same thing with literally any other magical thing i do these days: i won't go digging for new items to serve me and my spellwork, i will just use what i already have.

doing spells when the opportunity presents itself versus days of planning - i got a new body wash the other day whose main ingredient and scent is rose so i figured i could use it for a glamour at some point; needed some cinnamon the other day for pancakes and stashed some away for use as a catalyst later on; stuck a bay leaf in my pasta sauce while cooking and made a little wish beforehand.

tethers. everywhere. this one's a bit personal for me but generally speaking, i like to tie energy to a physical object and store it for later use.

i have never buried anything in my yard for any reason - i usually just stick it in a box if the spell isn't finished, cleanse and reuse, or discard all together after thanking it for its assistance.

i swear i have a mean tarot deck and a nice one so i tend to be biased and choose accordingly. 🙃

i also have two pendulums i don't use and a set of blue goldstone runes that i have had for 8 years but don't touch anymore. let that be a gentle reminder that you don't have to do all the things, i promise.

anyway, those are some things about my craft ok bye

[emdvrcys]

i've lately picked up this book that stuck out to me whilst i was thrifting the other day because it had my name within the title, so I thought 'how cool, it's cheap i'll grab it even if its it terrible." i start reading it, weirdest book ever. the book is written as a speculation into 'when robots rule the world' as the author so blatantly put it and talks about how brain emulation will allow human minds to be uploaded to a hard drive. isn't a certain billionaire already working on such a feat? am i the only one that is terrified of what ai is going to do for our futures? @notoriousstarters

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: " I shouldn’t be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: Fluff, kiss, impure thoughts, conversation about sex, masturbation, doubts and more doubts.

A/N: Here I am. As a thank you for all the wonderful comments, I will post two chapters today. (To be honest, I already have some stories in mind, but I want to finish Pure Attraction first, so I need to do it a little bit faster.) Keep interacting and voting. Don't forget: VOTE! It brings engagement and more motivation for the author!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 8

I wave to my mother inside the car, as she reverses in front of our house and leaves, driving down the street of our neighborhood. Eunji works at a medium-sized company and travels a lot for a few months of the year, when she needs to present a new project. It's not new to me. I am used to being alone for some days; what makes me think, however, is Jungkook. I look at my neighbors' house out of inertia, seeing him at the living room window, reading some book. He notices me, opens a mischievous little smile, and waves, winking. My cheeks burn with his attention, and before I can embarrassed myself, in any way, I close the door and quickly step inside.

I still can't believe what happened last night. It feels like an unreal dream. If I didn't have marks and hickeys on my neck and breasts, I would have accepted that it was all a figment of my imagination and that Jungkook and I didn't end up together. I feel scared because I don't regret it and want it to happen again. I don't know where I'm getting myself into, and each time we meet, I sink deeper and deeper into this situation. I feel apprehensive because what I feel for him, I've never felt for anyone else. His kiss when he said goodbye, his dark and big eyes on mine... Just remembering it makes me shiver.

I start to organize myself because I need to take a look at the thrift store. It's been a while since I last went there, and I don't know how is doing. My day goes by quickly, and I return a bit earlier than expected because the movement wasn't very good. I attended to three customers, and only two of them bought something. I climb the stairs at home, tired and hungry, my stomach growling because I didn't even have lunch. I throw myself on the bed and close my eyes, not caring about the heavy clothes I'm wearing. I could sleep even in a costume, that nothing would disturb my sleep. I take off my sneakers with my feet and sigh, relieved to be home.

A few minutes pass when I feel fingers on my thigh, lifting my denim skirt towards my intimacy. I jump up, startled, when I see Jungkook on his knees on my mattress, his face close to mine. He laughs, noticing my surprise, doesn't say a word, and simply kisses me, brushing his lips against mine. I savor his taste in my mouth, silently asking him to deepen the caress and use his tongue with mine; however he pulls away, gives me a peck and another, before standing up completely.

"I could call the police." I joke, brushing the short hair from his face. The haircut is not much different from the previous one, but it makes him look more handsome, if that's even possible.

"I do everything with consent." He mocks, lying down beside me.

"I didn't give you any consent to come into my room. How did you get in?"

"The open window was very inviting. I couldn't resist." He shrugs, smiling.

"Why did you come here?" I raise my head, focused on his rosy lip when he pouts.

"I came to get you." Jungkook says, stretching on the bed. He lifts my right leg, caressing my skin. "And that's not a request."

"I don't even know where you want to take me." I comment, swallowing hard. I laugh a little, feeling the tickles from the tips of his fingers. "And I'm tired. I worked at my mother's store and at the library. And today is Tuesday. I'm dead."

"Your mother went traveling, didn't she? Enjoy it while she's not home."

"How do you know she traveled?" I raise an eyebrow, curious.

"She told my mom some time ago." He shrugs, as if it's simple.

"She only told me last night." I growl, irritated. My mother always does this, telling me her plans always at the last minute.

"I thought you knew. That's why I came here. When the king is in the castle, one cannot court the Princess. Everyone knows that."

"In this case, I would be the Princess?" I laugh, finding it funny.

"Yes. You are definitely Rapunzel. Have you noticed that your life is literally living in a tower?"

"I'm touched."

"It's serious. Come with me." Jungkook asks, whispering, squeezing my thigh. I smile knowing that, the way he asks, I'll never be able to say no. I sigh and roll my eyes.

"You convinced me. Tell me where we're going."

"It's not a very surprising place." He speaks carelessly; suddenly, his cheeks turn red, and he pinches the lobe of his ear, embarrassed. That makes me even more curious. I wonder what he plans, and even though I'm tired, I nod and get up from the bed.

"Alright, you made me curious. But I'm hungry and need to eat something before we go." I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. I kiss his lips in a quick peck, tasting him. A voice in my head tells me I shouldn't act so affectionately because I'm not his girlfriend –or anything like that –but the way Jungkook responds quiets that voice and reassures me it's ok to touch him like this.

"I'll order something for you to eat." He smiles simply. Before I can argue, he crouches down, takes my foot, and pulls off my sneaker. I watch everything, worried and fascinated, relaxing my leg so he can finish the task.

I really like Jungkook. I've admitted that, and it's not very hard to notice. I did things with him because he makes me feel confident in my own skin, and that does me good. He is funny, talented, kind and sarcastic, and even though I don't know him well, the things I know about him make me admire him. The problem is he might still love his ex, and I don't know how far I can unleash my own feelings. I'm afraid of having too many expectations and ending up frustrated and disappointed. He treats me very well, but does that mean he reciprocates what I feel, or does it just mean he is a gentleman who knows how to take care of a woman?

"Done." He says, finishing the knot of my shoelace.

I smile at him gratefully and feel his hand holding mine as we walk down the stairs. I lose a bit of my smile, seeing our fingers intertwined, but I say nothing. I promise myself that I will enjoy the moment and keep my paranoia to myself, for now.

"Are you really not going to tell me where we're going?" I ask when we reach the sidewalk. He shakes his head and laughs before stepping away.

"No. You'll have to wait a little." He replies, opening the gate to his parents' garage. I stand still, waiting for his car when I'm surprised to see Jungkook on a motorcycle, with another helmet on his right arm. I open my mouth, totally impressed, looking from end to end at how huge the thing is. Now I understand why Mr. Jeon was worried, when he mentioned his son's mean of transportation, last night at dinner.

"Shall we?"

"I've never been on a motorcycle." I comment weakly, afraid of falling before I even get on the back.

"Everything has a first time." Jungkook bites his lower lip, watching me mischievously. My face heats up when I remember he said the same thing to me, when I sucked his dick in my room.

"Jungkook, how long have you been riding this thing? Did you pass your practical test on the first try?" I ask, sarcastically. He laughs, rolling his eyes.

"I promise you will come out alive from this." He guarantees with cynicism. He stands up, turns around, and goes behind me. "I'll tie your hair up, wait a bit."

I wait patiently while he holds my rebellious strands and ties them with some elastic. Jungkook takes the helmet from his arm and looks back at my face. He seems super focused and serious, furrowing his brows and making sure my head is indeed protected. He gives a little smile and sits on the motorcycle, waiting for my turn. I am a bit awkward, not quite sure where to support myself, but Jungkook doesn't mind and holds my leg so I can settle in securely. I wrap my arms around his waist, and with my heart racing, I wave between his shoulder and neck.

"We can go." I confirm, uncertain. Almost at the same moment, Jungkook revs the engine and takes off down the street at speed. I hold on tighter to him, tense. I hear his laugh and know he did this on purpose to tease me. I hit his arm, pouting, and sigh, feeling the nice end-of-day breeze.

It's scary, fascinating and a fantastic moment. With the motorcycle rolling, I can follow the sunset, which transforms the blue sky into orange and the usually polluted air, into something purer and cleaner. It's a feeling of freedom, enjoyable and terrifying, the same I have every time I'm with Jungkook. I hold on tighter, happy for the new experience I'm living.

It doesn't take long before the motorcycle stops in the city center. Things are quite busy, with people walking from one place to another and the stores bustling with customers. I can't remember the last time I came here, even though it's so close to my house. I get off awkwardly, and Jungkook follows right behind, taking off his helmet.

"It's here." He smiles happily, pointing behind me. When I turn around, there's a large sign saying "GOLDEN TATTOO" with Jungkook's name, on a seemingly new and well-lit wall. "I managed to finish the renovation today, and I wanted to bring you here to see the place. You'll be the first person to come."

"It's perfect!" I sight, impressed. I'm left speechless as he opens the bulletproof glass and enters the place, as if he were familiar with the environment. It's different from what I expected, with gray-painted walls, plants everywhere, and illustrated designs in large frames. It's a place I would feel comfortable in, even if I came alone. "Did you decorate it?"

"Yes. These last few days, I worked with a design team to organize everything the way I envisioned it. It took a lot of work, but I think it's finally all ready."

"It's very beautiful." I smile, touching one of the frames on the wall. It's a tattoo of an eye, apparently feminine and brown. It's so realistic that it feels like it's looking in my direction. I analyze the drawing so much that Jungkook laughs, lowering his head.

"Did you like it?" He points to the frame, smiling. I nod, touching the picture.

"It's spectacular."

"I drew it." He explains, coming up behind me. My heart skips a few beats when his arms wrap around my waist, and he presses his mouth against my ear. My spine freezes, and I get all goosebumps, from the last strand of my hair to the tips of my toes. "Come here, I want to show you something."

He pulls my hand and guides me to a room with white walls, some utensils and machines that, even as a layperson, I know are for tattooing. It's a very clean and sterilized place, with masks, disposable gloves, and colored inks in a glass and wood cabinet. The almost obsessive organization doesn't surprise me. When I saw Jungkook's apartment some time ago, I realized he likes everything very well organized, and his workplace wouldn't be any different. He sits me on the waiting sofa, and I observe some drawings in a black folder on the coffee table.

I don't know many people with tattoos, and I've never taken the time to appreciate this type of art, but I like what Jungkook does. He creates realistic designs, but most of them have fine and delicate touches. It's interesting to get to know another one of his sides that makes me more enchanted by him every day. I glance at my phone, thinking of my mother suddenly. I shake my head, determined to expel my restlessness. All these worries don't matter right now. She's out of town, and I need to stop tormenting myself about her. Jungkook appears at the door, almost as if he knew I was lost in thought, and smiles at me, mysteriously.

"What do you want to show me? I'm almost going crazy with curiosity." I confess, excited. He smiles, holding a roll of plastic wrap in one hand and raising a tablet in the other.

"I'm going to end your curiosity now." He says. "It's nothing special. I'm just going to do a tattoo on myself."

"What? Another one? Didn't you do one the day before yesterday?" I exclaim, opening my mouth in disbelief. He laughs at my surprise, as if he had said the most ordinary thing in the world.

"I've done tattoos on myself a few times; it's not a big deal. And I have to take advantage because the healing time is always restrict with food."

"Don't you feel pain while doing it?"

"I do." He confirms, shrugging. "But it's not unbearable, and I can stay still the whole time."

"Are you some kind of masochist?" I tease, watching him. Jungkook wraps the plastic around the tattoo machine and on the bench beside me without pausing.

"It's a nice pain." He smiles slyly, licking his lower lip. "It's almost like when I spank your butt. Don't you feel pleasure when there's a bit of it?"

"Jungkook!" I reprimand, my face burning with embarrassment at the question. He really has no scruples. And neither do I, because I hate to admit it, but I actually enjoy it when he spanks me.

"Some types of pain are bearable and nice to feel. You should try it." He suggests, sitting beside me.

"No, thanks." I decline. Just the thought of a needle piercing me, makes me anxious.

"Scaredy-cat." He mocks. He raises the tablet and shows me the drawing. It's a pink, reddish flower. It's a beautiful and interesting drawing, but apparently painful if done by oneself. I grimace, pitying him.

"What does it mean?" His face turns red suddenly. He looks at his hands and bites his lips, thoughtful.

"It's the flower of my birth. The tiger flower." He diverts his gaze from mine, leaving me confused.

"What is it?" I ask, laughing. Generally, I'm the shy one in the relationship.

"It's nothing; it's just that... it means 'please, love me.' I think that phrase is so beautiful and, at the same time, so sad."

"Please, love me." I repeat, testing the words on my tongue. It really is sad but touching. I wonder, however, why he chose that tattoo. "Are you sure you can handle it?" I question, worried, somewhat skeptical. Jungkook turns completely to me and narrows his dark eyes, looking at me.

"Of course I can. Don't doubt my abilities."

"I'm not doubting." I explain, putting my hands in front of my body to defend myself. "It's just that it's a drawing with many details. It's normal for you not to be able to do something like that in a short time. It's already seven."

"Let's make a bet?" He suggests, brushing his hair from his face. I get excited about the proposal, nodding my head.

"Sure, why not? But what can we bet on?"

"If I can't finish the tattoo in two hours, you choose something for us to do together." The dark-haired boy explains, running his fingers on my thigh. A shiver runs up my spine as he trails his fingers on my skin, slowly lifting my skirt with ease.

"Do something together? Like what?" I frown, curious. He smiles, this time wickedly. His hand goes from my thighs to my neck, pulling my hair back. He entwines his fingers in my strands and caresses my scalp with his thumb. A breath of arousal escapes my mouth, beyond my control.

"Anything. You decide."

"And if you win the bet, you do whatever you want with me?" I tease, laughing at my own question. Jungkook doesn't deny it, however, looking at me with a serious expression that, if it weren't for the situation, would disturb me.

"I already know what I want." He says in a husky voice. "If I win the bet, you touch yourself in front of me, like I asked you to."

"J-Jungkook! I can't do that." I choke, shaking my head. I would die of embarrassment. I've tried a few times to touch myself, I confess, but I never succeeded. I always felt awkward, as if something was missing. As if I were a complete weirdo for even trying.

"Are you already thinking about losing? That's not how bets work."

"I've never bet on something like this." I laugh ironically, trembling. His hand releases my hair but doesn't stop touching me. He slides his palm further down and caresses my stomach, which bubbles because of him. I'm so entranced by his touch that I can't stop him and let Jungkook slip under my shirt, heading for my breasts, covered by my bra.

"Think of the other side. If I lose, you can do whatever you want with me." He argues quietly, giving a small smile.

I start imagining what I would do with him if I won the bet. I'm not very creative, but something that really excites me would be to bring him to the edge just like he did with me last night. He denied my orgasm, and I want to do the same with Jungkook, over and over again. Of course, I would have to be very confident, and I don't know if I could achieve my goal, but I think it's worth a try.

"Alright. I agree." I nod nervously. He approaches with a sideways smile and tucks my hair behind my ear, before closing his eyes and kissing my mouth.

I wrap my arms around his neck and deepen our kiss, massaging his mouth with mine. I bite his lower lip, only satisfied when I hear a rumble from him deep in his throat. He smirks between caresses, stops, and attacks my neck, licking my skin and leaving a thin trail of saliva. Weeks ago, I couldn't even imagine a man without clothes in front of me, and now all I want is to suck him off and feel him come in my mouth, just like last night. I still remember the result of his pleasure flowing down my throat, and my desire to repeat everything we did makes my brain intoxicated. I'm completely lost in wanting this man.

"A kiss to seal the deal." Jungkook grunts and pulls away, his mouth swollen. I try to continue the kiss with the excitement eating me from the inside out, but he smiles and stops touching me completely. "I have to start this tattoo if I want to win the bet."

Jungkook stands up and sketches the rose on a piece of paper. My head disconnects from reality while he begins the work. I pick up my phone for a few seconds and see the time passing. I would be more worried if my mother weren't out of town. I leave the sofa, needing to pee, and open a door marked for the bathroom. I take care of my business and look at myself in the mirror. My face looks apparently normal, if not for my flushed cheeks and red lips from the kisses. I splash a bit of water on myself, and when I feel calmer, I return to the tattoo studio. The machine works continuously, and Jungkook seems submerged and engrossed in his task, furrowing his brows, totally focused.

I shouldn't have accepted this bet. Jungkook has several tattoos, and it's obvious that his pain tolerance is high. I know he will win. The way he remains silent and effortlessly pierces his own skin tells me that sooner or later, I'll have to fulfill the difficult challenge. I bite my lip, watching the drawing of the flower being completed as the minutes pass. It's a very time-consuming process, but minutes fly. I am so relaxed and still that I could almost fall asleep listening to the buzzing of the needle.

"Y/N, I ordered food for both of us." I hear his voice suddenly. I jump a bit because I didn't notice he was talking to me, lost in my own head. "I hope you like pasta."

"I really like it, thanks." I say, shaking my head. I'm really hungry.

Before long, someone rings the studio's doorbell. Jungkook even tries to get up to answer the delivery person, but there's no way I'd let him go outside when he's so focused on his own work. I go outside and grab the food bag, seeing that he ordered beer, pasta, fries, and a can of Diet Coke for both of us. I'm happy to notice, in such a simple gesture, that he remembered I don't drink alcohol. My mouth instantly fills with saliva.

"I think you're not going to win the bet." I comment, sitting back on the sofa. I separate my food from his, tasting the delicious vegetable sauce that is the most tasty thing in the world. At least that's what my stomach thinks, given how hungry I am.

"I'm almost done." He brags, still tattooing himself. He passes a paper to remove the excess ink from his skin and raises an eyebrow confidently. "I can't wait to see you touching yourself."

"That's not going to happen." I guarantee with a certainty I don't have, blushing and taking a sip of the soda. It's refreshing, going cold down through my throat.

"Let's see if it won't. Do you really think I'm going to miss the chance to watch you masturbating?"

"Jungkook..." I mumble, covering my face. "Don't you have any shame? Stop saying those things."

"Don't worry, Y/N." He smiles, confident in his victory. "You still have a reasonable amount of time to get used to the idea."

"Focus, Kook." I change the subject; my heart races just imagining myself in that situation. He falls silent and bites his lower lip, looking at me from head to toe with such hunger that makes me nervous and excited. I swallow my food as he returns to tattooing, wondering if he will really finish the drawing in time.

And he does. Of course, he does. In the end, after one hour and forty-five minutes, Jungkook has a new complete drawing on his right arm, along with other tattoos that adorn his body. I finished my food just in time to see him ending everything with mastery and calm, as if he wasn't worried about our bet. His hungry eyes find mine, and I know exactly what he wants. I swallow hard, squeezing my thighs together.

"I think I deserve my prize since I won the bet."

"Y-yes." I respond, trembling. My heart beats loudly in my chest, and I have to breathe deeply to finally realize that I don't feel fear, not even a hint of hesitation. All I feel is lust and desire. A longing to have him closer, to touch him in his rawest form. I sigh, watching him stand up and walk calmly towards me, like a predator; a lion eyeing its prey. I shrink back on the couch, small, now that he is standing. His knee sneaks between my legs, and separates my thighs before he squats down, and brings his face closer to mine.

"I don't want you to touch yourself here." He whispers, like a secret. His dilated pupils when he gazes at my mouth. "In my apartment. In my bed. I want you there."

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments.

@ane102 @joonwater @ttipa

[pixelnrd]

obvously river ultimately made his own choices, but april put a lot of pressure on him to conform and join her dad's company and be someone he ultimately wasn't for her own gain (which wasn't necessarily NEGATIVE gain, their family needed to be provided for but still). Now it feels like instead of having learned her lesson from her own road with unhappiness from conforming she's just...doing the same thing to Dustin?? Instead of trying to figure out why he's so unhappy she's just trying to push him to do things because he's interrupting her time with the woman she left his dad for??? at least that's how it feels, idk i'm annoyed with her lol.

I can understnad this interpretation of April as being a bit... selfish? Hypocritical? She definitely is, and from the sentiments in comments about April on recent posts I get the feeling that others feel the same way about April (which is valid! not devaluing that at all).

BUT I want to counter this with a different interpretation (long post sorry!)

For all her faults, April isn't meant to be seen as unfeeling or callous. April is a product of her own upbringing and time period, and if anything she is a victim of changing societal norms in the 70s/80s with second wave feminism. Her parents gave her a great education and expected big things from her with college and a career - she became a doctor. But society also expected her to have the husband and the house and the babies. And she did all that, she played her life by the book as it was laid out to her - and ultimately found that cumulatively, over time in was a burden. It made her burnt out and unhappy. She was expected to uphold her own career, raise the kids, look after the house, have dinner on the table for them all. That's a huge burden to bear, and at a time when men weren't expected to pick up any of the slack to allow women to enter the workforce and become more than homemakers (and let's be real, plenty of men still don't do this in the 21st century). River in that sense did not make it any easier for April - he was playing his own role, one that didn't expect him to share that burden of homemaking and childreading beyond hanging out with the kids on the weekend and doing the odd handy job. He was blind to the burden that April was bearing.

April was also running in the rat race from college, to career, to wife, to mother. She didn't get time to stop and check in with herself on whether she was having a good time. In fact I don't think April could pinpoint when it started to go wrong either. It was the wearing down over time of a person who was expected to do it all and be everything for everyone.

I do feel like everyone comes out in defence for the heir (which, hey, is fair - its their story!). But I've tried to portray all my characters as having flaws and negative traits, making mistakes and not being perfect. River was far from perfect as a husband and Dad. He just slid right on into the breadwinner male role without question because in the era he lived in, that was what husbands did. He grew up in a non-traditional household and was always subconsciously rebelling against that. He grew up poor and got himself to college. He was given a career opportunity that would make him a lot of money and he genuinelly wanted that. He wanted to have material wealth to show for himself after having grown up with no electricity, eating home grown vegetables and wearing thrift clothes. Ultimately he didn't realise the cost of the lifestyle he sought, or why ultimately his parents rejected it - they were happier people, even though they had less.

It's not entirely April's fault that River went down a path that didn't make him happy. Being with April presented opportunities and a lifestyle that River bought into. But as time went on, and they had a house and kids, River became trapped in the cycle of upholding that lifestyle.

River and April were only 20 when they met. They got locked down too young thanks to societal expectations and familial pressures and ultimately they grew up during that marriage into different people. I think the beauty of their separation - even thought hurtful for all involved - was that they were finally able to explore who they really wanted to be.

That's not to say that they didn't learn their lessons. April tries to tolerate Dustin's apathy, but probably finds it hard considering the pressure her parents put on her, and the sacrifices she feels that she made to give him a great upbringing and feeling taken advantage of - after all, she was full time Mum and and a full time doctor.

When writing the character of April, I thought a lot about my own Mum and my Grandmothers and other Mums I have known in my lifetime. And I thought about how they all did double shift, coming home from their paid work to do the unpaid work of being a wife, Mum and homemaker. I wanted April to have her liberation from this system, so that was what I gave her.

I worry that April's character hasn't come across the way I intended, and that makes me feel like I haven't done her justice. If anything that's a lesson to myself in storytelling! But I hope this essay-like response can give others a different way of thinking about April 😊

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas24 Day 4: Anathema

Good night everyone! I am so sleepy, so just a few quick notes (and editing will have to wait til tomorrow because I am about three minutes from being curled up in my bed).

Today's offering is the first private meeting Alice and Jasper have in Anathema. I've had this scene in my head for such a long time, and I need to keep reworking this version to get it perfect. But it's a good start, and I do love exploring how vulnerable and alien this version of Jasper is to humans, to Alice - who is the first person to welcome him closer because she likes him and not out of fear or pity.

I hope you enjoy it, the ask box is still going, and i hope you all have an amazing day today!

I slipped into my bedroom without switching on the light. Dulcie was already tucked up in bed with one of her romance novels, and I knew that Freddie would follow suit as soon as the washing up was done. I also knew neither of them could hear anything that went on in my bedroom from previous experience - mostly all-night marathons of cartoons when my laptop could still reliably stream TV.

Closing the door carefully, and taking the time to jam it shut with an old phone book so that no one could barge in without knocking - I might not have ever been a Girl Guide, but I was always prepared - I walked over to my desk, awkwardly leaning over it to shimmy open the window and call out.

"Jasper?"

It was more of a hiss, really. Not exactly the girlish vision of a balcony scene. And I felt kind of silly - there was the chance I was imagining things. But if I was wrong, no one would hear me, so that made it less ridiculous. And the fact that I was certain that's why my dream and the cards were telling me. No vermin or possums or debris in the roof; Jasper Cullen was, for reasons known only to him (and possibly the future that involved the debasement of the downstairs gurney) hanging out on our roof at night. Specifically, over my window.

And it was completely anti-social, inhuman, and borderline stalker behaviour. Well, total stalker behaviour. But at the same time, he wasn't human. And he had no other way to get to me; I didn't go to school, and I was still under house arrest, even after the debacle with the Lamia. I was sympathetic. The vision of Jasper telling Mrs Cullen that I was the first person to care if he got hurt haunted me. I couldn't imagine being that completely and utterly alone. And I couldn't bear the idea of Jasper, my Jasper, being that alone. Was still that alone.

"Jasper, I know you're there," I hissed again, and waited.

The night was still for a moment before I heard some movement. But instead of him popping into view, there was a blur of movement from the tree next to the house onto the roof-proper.

Well.

Two could play that game.

It was cold tonight and my bedroom seemed to be colder than the rest of the apartment, so I was wearing a long flannel nightgown I’d thrifted. It was deeply unflattering, but so warm; I just looked like some kind of quasi-80s Victorian doll they sold on infomercials. Not exactly the look I wanted when I finally got to talk to Jasper for the first time in private, but I didn’t have time to change or he might leave. I jammed my feet into some shoes beside my desk, and dragged a Forks hoodie over my nightgown before I climbed onto my desk and then out of the window.

There was just enough ledge to balance on my toes and inch along from my window gingerly - immediately regretting my choice of clogs that felt awkward and insecure. But determination won out and I kept inching my way along. The hulking tree that shaded this side of the house was currently the MVP of this debacle - it hid me from view of anyone who might be driving past the funeral home. Nosy neighbours had caught me out a few times over the years, and I didn't really want to add to that list.

Finally having reached the edge of my window, I hoisted myself up by the frame, my fingers clawing for a hold as I somehow manoeuvered myself upwards until I got to the narrow flat roof top, where one Jasper Cullen was looking stunned. Not that I blamed him; it was less 'parkour' that got me up this high, and more 'roadkill frenzy'. The shoes were a bad choice.

"Miss Brandon." His voice is dry again, like he hasn't been talking

"I called out to you," I said grumpily, landing heavily beside him. I'm positive I look insane, with my hair all frizzy and this stupid nightgown. It even had ruffled cuffs and collar that were poking out of the hoodie.

I should have altered it when I bought it. It was just so snug.

"I heard you," Jasper looks down. "I didn't expect you to follow me."

"Neither did I," I reply. "It was a spur-of-the-moment decision." He's here. Right here, with me, and there are no witnesses, no nosy adults eavesdropping, and… just the two of us.

Jasper looks younger up-close. More fragile, like he's being held together by luck and determination, and the next terrible thing could tear him open. He somehow looks more and less human, sitting beside me trying not to look at me.

"Why are you here?" I asked quietly, tucking my hands inside my sleeves. "I just… want to know why you've been creeping around the roof of my house without saying anything."

And suddenly the daisy in the water glass on my nightstand makes sense. We didn't have any blooming daisies, but it could have easily been snuck in by a supernatural guest.

"I didn't want to scare you," he says after a pause. "I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

"You didn't scare me. It's just easier to get to know someone when you talk to them," I span to face him, crossing my legs to keep them under my nightgown - it was cold on the roof. "And I am safe. Most things that come through this area don't venture into town. They don't want to risk being caught."

"No, that's… I was worried your people were upset at the last two meetings," Jasper looks at me. "Mad at you."

"Oh!" I sit back. "No, no one would hurt me. Just a lot of yelling and house arrest. Freddie said that having my jeans ruined by lamia puke was worse than any punishment he could think up."

"You had a bruise on your face at the meeting. It's gone now." Jasper sounded uncertain and it was a strange tone for this stoic guy to use. Both times we had met, he had seemed like a half-wild creature, something much older and more dangerous than I could comprehend. In my visions, there was an energy to him - serious but affectionate and he had this energy about him, almost a playfulness around me. But here and now, he was ill-at-ease but trying desperately to keep it together.

"I fainted in the prep room," I said. "I hit my head. No one is hurting me, Jasper, I promise."

His shoulders relaxed an infinitesimal amount. "I shouldn't be here," he murmured. "Rose is going to kill me. They all told me to stay away from you until Carlisle met with them."

"We don't have to tell them. It can just be our secret," I say quickly, and the way he looks at me is something that I could get used to. I just want to reach out and touch him - push his hair off his face, or run my fingers over the thin scar on his cheek.

"You don't have to protect me," he said. "It's my fault."

"I want to." I want to touch your hair, I want to curl up in your lap, I want to kiss you.

"You're very young," he said doubtfully, but I could hear the waver in his voice.

"I'm nearly seventeen." Roughly, at least. "And we can take it slowly; get to know each other." My inner voice was having a hissy-fit; I needed to encourage him to get closer, not to negotiate some slow trickle to 'friendship'. I had an appointment with this boy on the gurney downstairs, and not the kind that required formaldehyde.

I could almost feel the uncertainty rolling off Jasper.

"Is anyone going to hurt you?" I asked softly. None of the Cullens looked like they would be into violence, but I had also seen the headlock that Emmett Cullen had put Jasper in when he had approached me the first time.

"No, no. The Cullens are good people. None of them know how to fight at all," he says. "I just… they did a lot for me. Do a lot for me. I don't want to make things difficult."

"And I'm difficult?"

He chuckles. "I couldn't have seen you coming in a hundred lifetimes." He looks directly at me. They don't want me to hurt you."

//

Getting off the roof is a lot scarier than going up, I realise as I lean over to sort of scramble down to the guttering. It looks a lot more like a fall that could do some serious harm from this angle. But there's no other way to get down from here, and if I get cut up on the roof tiles, there's a first aid kit in the bathroom.

And a vampire watching me with a frown.

As I crawl backwards - it seems like a good idea to go back down facing the roof - my right clog slips right off my foot, rolling down the roof, bouncing off the guttering and landing in the flowerbed below. I gasp as soon as I lose it, instinctively reaching over to grab it, and the only thing that stops me from following it to the ground is that suddenly Jasper has a fistful of my hoodie, hurling me back up next to him.

"Alice!" It was the most reaction I think I've ever gotten out of him - horrified and exasperated, looking at me like I had just dangled myself over a lions' pit. I would've been fine; I'd fallen out of the tree next to us once when I was younger - I had had grand plans for a Victorian treehouse I could access through my window, and had hauled up planks of wood for the flooring but failed to remember to secure them to the tree. A broken arm (that had healed cleanly in two weeks), fourteen stitches in my head, and a concussion had been the result. å

I'm expecting Jasper to scold me, to read me the riot act of being an idiot - both Freddie and Sue had yelled at me for forgetting to think in the past, and Dulcie usually told me that I didn't have the sense God gave a jellyfish, but he's staring at me, his hand still clenched in the fabric of my hoodie.

"I didn't mean to scare you," I said tentatively.

"You need to be more careful," Jasper said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. "I can't… you can't get hurt, okay?"

I watch him, watch the play of emotions ripple across his face - frustration, worry, shame, and something I can't decipher.

"I'll be careful," I said, my voice soft and apologetic. "But can you lift me down? I don't think I can get back down by myself."

He looks at me, stunned - I keep surprising this boy - and he nods. Gingerly, I stand up; I am on the roof of a three story building, and the flat space isn't exactly huge. Jasper stands easily, releasing my hoodie to move closer, his arms extended to catch me if I slip.

"Are you ready?" he asks, and I nod.

I'm not sure what I expect, but all of a sudden, I'm swept into a bridal carry. My arms automatically wrap around his neck, and for a second we're just looking at each other. It's ridiculous and corny and cliche, but that's it. There was no stopping this from happening from the very second that I saw him in the woods, but this moment, with his arms cradling me so carefully, this is the moment that I know that Jasper Cullen is my future.

"Ready." I sound a little breathless, even to my own ears. I'm also not expecting to be freefalling for a split second, enough that my head is spinning and I gasp for air. I have no idea the exact jump he made, how he managed it, but in two seconds Jasper is setting me on my feet inside of my bedroom.

I ruin it by half falling backwards onto my bed, disorientated.

"Are you okay? I made sure your neck was supported?" he asked, immediately looming over me.

"It was so fast," I gasped, sitting up again. "How did you get us both through the window?" I thought of the weird little seal-wiggle I'd had to manage to get through on my own.

"Jumped," he answers, still inspecting me.

"I'm okay," I reassure him. "My neck's fine." That makes him relax, and I am once again intrigued by what he knows of humans, what he remembers of humanity.

"You need to get some sleep," he says, standing straight but keeping his eyes on the floor.

"Thank you for getting me off the roof, Jasper," I say, managing to stand up. Feeling bold, I reach out and grab his hand to squeeze it. "Maybe you can come by again?"

He looks at our joined hands and nods slowly. "I can come back." It almost sounds like he's asking a question.

//

I roll over the next morning, still in the hoodie. My window is open a crack, and there's feeble sunshine peering from behind the curtains that I've left knotted up.

And balanced on my window sill, with a little blue flower picked from the lawn resting on the toe, was my missing shoe.