#a chance to overshare and ramble?

[lovewithoutresin]

18, 30, and 5!

5. Yes! I have two sisters and a brother all around the same age and a few years younger than me. We weren't super close as kids but I've really gotten on with them in recent years!

18. I got this from you and one other person so I'm giving each of you one. I also see that you're a lit major so I opted to give you not the classic answer gkfkg. But! Another favorite of mine that came into my life around the same time as that one is We Are Okay by Nina Lacour. It's hard to even fully explain why.. it just describes loneliness so accutely that it could actually kill me. Very carthartic but not without its light spots and a good read on unpacking trauma too.

30. A lot of my hobbies sort of slowly begin to feel like my job even if they're not so it's a bit tricky! But I really love storytelling if it wasn't obvious, so anything related to that I could at least enjoy trying. I also love going on walks and have been known to enjoy a good video essay, and while I haven't done it a whole bunch I do love painting as a way to have a hobby that doesn't feel like it's for anyone but me.

[yuurivoice]

We've hit the stage of Echoes of Evalas' creation that I'm spending a lot of my quiet time with scenes and characters, including time that is usually occupied by...well, nothing creative. At least, it hasn't been creative time in a long while.

Some of the dearest and most important moments of my young creative daydreaming was before bed. If I might overshare, it was specifically as I lay in bed and tried to drown out unpleasantness I'd hear from other rooms of the house. I'll spare you the details.

I didn't even have music at the time, though in later years as I became a depressed teen, I'd throw some music on my computer to fantasize and fall asleep to.

Oftentimes, these stories and characters I'd contemplate were favorites from various things I enjoyed. In time they'd adapt and evolve into something of my own, in worlds and stories of my own making.

Sometimes it wasn't so grand. There were no sweeping narratives or adventures. Just some self insert character being comforted by a friend or a lover.

Recent nights, I've thrown on my EoE playlist and let my mind wander. I haven't really done that in a long time. Haven't had the need to these days. I'm not running from much. Life is quiet. But as I start to turn over more stones and find what's beneath some of the characters and themes I'm exploring, I've found myself here again.

I don't know if anyone will love what I am making, and I never have. Every person who has let my characters and stories into their hearts means a whole lot to me, though. I've not forgotten when all of this was nothing more than a comfort to myself to soothe away all my fear and loneliness.

As it all starts to come together I'm seeing a stark difference between where I am at as a writer and creative in general in comparison to BitterSweet Chapter 1, as I've revisited it recently.

The pieces were there but it's so clear to me that I didn't have the conviction that I do now. I didn't have the comfort or security of knowing that I can take chances and be bold. I thought I had to color within the lines, and lacked the confidence to really let it rip.

So as much as I've been looking forward, I've also looked back. Further back than I typically like to.

When Charlie said he never thought he'd be this old, that was real shit man. I was a morbid kid. I have a crystal clear memory of being on a school bus in Washington state. Blink 182 just dropped an album. I hate Blink 182, but I listened with a friend whose face I can barely remember. As the high schoolers got on the bus I remember thinking...damn, I'll never be that old.

Not sure what could possess a child to feel that way. Or how that feeling could linger for years. It took a long time to find enough faith in myself to live. Now that I've got it, I think I'm encouraged to give breath to those lost dreams and wandering fantasies. Echoes of Evalas is an exploration of that.

I can't even grasp what that really means yet.

Things like faith, anger, insecurity, and longing for change. I've rattled a lot of locked doors while digging up this story and putting it together.

I am uneasy. That's probably how I've ended up writing this essay in bed, and boy is it a rambling one.

There was a point somewhere. I am excited for what's to come, but uneasy. Not out of fear that anyone will like it or content brained thinking like that. More like...a reverence for this magical thing I've found. Storytelling is magical for me. And that's not me waxing poetic, I think there's something terrifying and beautiful about it. It is the thing I was made to do, and the actual experience of crafting a story like this isn't just fun. I'm removing chains from my soul.

If that ain't magic, I don't know what is.

Anywho, I need to sleep. If you read all that, thank you for putting up with my yapping. 💖

[leviathism]

i have a request. reader showing belphegor their marble collection. [i have a pretty one that's somewhat translucent and looks like a night sky. belphie would like it imo ☆.]

belphegor x gn reader

These demons knew everything about you. Well, almost everything. So they were constantly trying to get ahead of each other to know something about you that the rest didn’t know.

It was a daily competition.

“I know that they have a mark on their left thigh.” Asmo grinned evilly at breakfast one day.

“So do I,” Beel mumbled through his food innocently. Asmo screamed.

“I know something you all don’t,” Mammon crossed his arms proudly, “their favorite color when they were four was—”

“Blue,” all of them chimed except for Mammon. Mammon groaned.

Even Lucifer was in on it.

“Their deepest, darkest secret is that they’re scared of being alone.”

Such a dad thing to do. To overshare a secret of someone so shamelessly. But to be honest, Belphegor already knew that. But he let the old bastard believe he had won, because he had a plan.

He was going to ask you upfront what your secret was and then rub it in his brothers’ faces, especially Lucifer, the next day.

So he asked you, straight up, “Is there anything you have never told any of us before?”

And luckily, you answered.

It was top secret, you told him, despite knowing he’d bring it up the next day at dinner.

You led him into your dark room and dug around in a storage bin. Belphegor held his breath.

Were you hiding tons of money in there? A bunch of severed body parts? Asmo’s special cologne that had gone missing for two months?

He watched as you pulled out a jar of small spheres.

“An eyeball collection,” he breathed out. He should’ve known.

“What?! Eyeball? No!” You clutched the jar protectively to your chest. “What is wrong with you?”

Belphegor tilted his head, wondering if you really wanted him to answer that question.

You let out a sigh, calming yourself down. “It’s my marble collection. Marble. Not eye.”

He kneeled down beside you, getting a closer look. “This is your big secret?”

“Well… it’s not a secret, but it’s something none of you guys know about. I mean, our topics of discussion are usually never on marbles. I never get a chance to show these babies off.” You pouted. Belphie rolled his eyes and took the jar from you.

He lifted it up so the light from your lamp hit the jar. “You only have one jar?”

“These are just from the Devildom. I have more at home but I couldn’t bring them.”

“Oh.” He shook the jar before you gave him a look. “Why do you collect them?”

“They look nice.” You shrugged. “You can have one if you want.”

Belphegor stared at you for a moment before he opened the jar and started to dig around. He listened to you ramble on about how marbles were so hard to find down here and then thought about how he absolutely could not tell his brothers about your marble collection.

If they knew, they’d ask for a marble. And Belphie could not let that happen. He wanted to be the only one to have a marble from you.

He picked up a midnight blue one and put the lid back on the jar.

“That’s a nice one.” You nodded in approval. “Maybe you should start a marble collection. Or do you collect other things?”

Belphie thought for a moment, his eyes flicking up from the marble to you. “I have a lot of pictures of you. Does that count?”

You gaped. How he was so upfront with stuff like that amazed you. “I mean… I guess.”

“I have this really good one, of you, me, and Beel. I’ll have to show you all of them tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You smiled at him.

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Tumblr has removed the edit option for asks, so... we're doing it this way until they fix their shit:

The emotional eater Bucky thing got me thinking…would you ever consider writing a gif where Stucky has been together for a while and Steve is called away on a mission for an undetermined length of time. Poor Bucky is worried sick and just keeps stuffing himself at every chance he gets and piles on the weight. When Steve gets home, Bucky’s embarrassed and instead of Steve getting upset, confesses he’s into it and they live happily ever after. With the occasional light teasing thrown in. Bonus points for burpy and hiccuppy Bucky. 🥺

emotional eater Bucky, original ask

Ooooh, this gives room for lots of different scenarios in my mind, so, sure! I can do some writing where we explore a few:

Unbeta'd stucky belly kink, warnings for stuffing, weight gain, insecurity, hurt/comfort, kink discovery, etc.

Bucky gets on the phone with Steve whenever possible. He’s on an undercover mission, so it really isn’t that often, he has to be somewhere completely secure where no one can see the mask of the character he’s playing slip off. It’s not often and it’s not for long but, still, Bucky will take what he can get. Even if what he gets is listening to the way Steve tries to talk to him normally, but… he can’t hide from Bucky. He hears the undertone of stress and exhaustion in his voice, and without realizing it, Bucky transitions from mindlessly pacing their apartment to mindlessly eating.

He stops in front of their fridge/freezer and listens as Steve rambles to him, pretending he’s fine, cracking open a new gallon of ice cream. When Steve yawns - speaking to the dark circles that must be shadowing his eyes, running himself ragged without anyone to look after him - Bucky shoves a heaving spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

Without realizing it, Bucky eats faster and faster, making quick work of the whole gallon as Steve tells him everything he can. Some mission details, but mostly how much he misses being home, how much he misses him, and how much he misses everything else.

Listen. Swallow. Listen. Swallow. Listen. Swallow. It’s the only two things Bucky is doing. So, by the time his spoon hits the bottom of the gallon, Bucky isn’t trying to repress his stress or his worry for Steve anymore. No, he’s trying to repress the hiccups and burps that want to come up. His lips are cold, and so is his packed stomach. He shivers and barely doesn’t groan out loud, using the hand not cradling his phone to massage his stretched abs apologetically. Every hiccup shakes his tight belly (which is getting less and less solid the longer the once-frozen cream sits in his body, he’s beginning to slosh noisily. He just hopes Steve’s super hearing can’t pick it up over the phone). Every burp is gas that doesn’t get released, staying trapped in him instead, and he’s starting to bloat up like a balloon. His abs feel hot with how stretched they’re getting. It feels kind of nice - warm and tight - sort of like cuddling. It’s distracting.

He’s lured back into the conversation, though, when Steve catches onto his heavier breathing and asks what’s wrong.

Bucky fumbles to tell him that he’s pacing too much, ignoring the fact that he’s a damn super soldier, he wouldn’t start panting the way he is right now if he went for a jog and talked to Steve the whole time.

Steve doesn’t think that hard about it. Instead, he apologizes for oversharing.

No. No, Bucky shakes his head. He’s fine. He tells Steve that. And, privately, he thinks he overdid it. Oversharing but… actually under-sharing because no human should eat so much fucking ice cream in under 30 minutes. He’s had way, way too much ice cream. It’s all sloshing and churning in his guts.

Then, the phone call ends with soft goodbyes.

Alone again, Bucky decides that he feels like a swollen tick, engorged with so much blood that he’s expanded. Doubled or tripled in size. How can his stomach get so big? Is this normal? Being able to swell so much? Is this a super soldier ability?

No longer smothering his sounds out of embarrassment and wanting to not worry his partner, Bucky slowly, gingerly bends over to grab a can of soda out of the bottom shelf of the fridge door - hoping to clear out some burps - and groans loudly, grabbing his heavy belly with both hands. He hiccups. He nearly falls back onto his ass, bending over and jolting like that. But he doesn’t. Barely.

He decides to ride out his mistake on the couch, leaning back, sipping his soda, and burping loudly, unashamedly. After a while, he feels his stomach deflate a little. It’s not as hard, at least. He still sounds like a washing machine, sloshing and gurgling, hiccupping and burping, groaning and moaning. But, one good thing can be said about the entire experience, he’s not thinking, for a second, about anything. No anxiety. No stress. No worry. Abstractly, he wishes Steve was here to nag him and rub his belly, but his mind is as clear as it’s been since Steve left.

❤️

Not too long later, after that first nearly instinctual belly-filling distraction/coping mechanism, Bucky wakes up in the middle of the night sweating. He’s so, so worried about Steve that it’s appearing in his dreams. It’s not even a normal dream with images and some semblance of real life, walking around, and seeing and experiencing. It’s just the feeling of being worried. Stress. Anxiety. Teeth-chattering.

Bucky has to get up. He thinks about showering off the sweat, but instead, he tugs off his shirt and sleep shorts, wandering only in his underwear to wherever his feet want to take him.

They want to go to the kitchen. His mismatched hands are on board as well, immediately finding the fridge and opening it, going straight for the pan of left-over lasagna that he had for dinner. It’s an entire family-sized dish. He stopped himself at 3 servings during the evening, but now, shaken awake and needing some kind - any kind of comfort, he can’t quit. It should be gross, he’s eating it cold and only using a fork to carve large chunks of cheese and meat and noodles and sauce out that smear the corners of his mouth, but it isn’t. He’s not thinking. He’s eating. He can’t think when he’s shoving food into his mouth. He can’t think when his stomach is struggling to stretch bigger and bigger. He can’t think when his belly aches with fullness. All that occupies his mind is the slow, intense fullness that grows and grows inside him. He likes the way it feels - being full.

Bucky doesn’t know when he woke up, he didn’t look at their alarm clock in their room, nor did he bother to open his phone, so he has no idea how long he spends ravenously shoving food into his mouth. But he’s there for long enough that he finishes the rest of the dish. The entire family-sized lasagna. Thick, greasy, and rich, sitting in his gut like a brick. A couple of bricks, actually.

“Oh, God,” he moans to himself when his fork hits the empty container with a clang.

His poor belly!

Oh, it’s so heavy. And round.

Jesus.

He’s never seen himself like this! Not even after he scarfed down a whole gallon of ice cream and bloated up like a balloon from the excessive dairy, sugar, and fat. He’s even more round and tight. His body sounds like a drum when he taps his hand against his belly, whining.

So, it’s all Bucky can do to shut the fridge and flop back down onto the tile floor, his belly sticking up like a mountain from the rest of his body. Pale and exposed. When he stuffed himself with ice cream, he was wearing a shirt - clothes - this time he isn’t. He’s basically naked. If he bothered to lift his head, he can almost see the way his belly shivers and ripples, his stomach and intestines struggling to contain, let alone digest all of that food. It’s so much more intense, seeing all this weight attached to him, under his skin. He’s all belly!

Bucky burps so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbors woke up and heard the commotion. Maybe worst of all, though, he can’t stop puffing, “oh, oh… oh,” the sounds are all breathy and soft. He’s overwhelmed with the weight of himself. His belly. It’s so tight. Hot, too. Bucky feels like a bug pinned to a board under a heat lamp, ready for examination. God, he can’t even roll around and get onto his hands and knees. He’s stuck. He’s, actually, Jesus, he’s wiped out, yawning after hissing out another burp... tired because it’s the middle of the night and tired because he’s so ready to collapse into a food coma.

He might as well sleep right here, right? Catch some shut-eye while he can with his head quiet, and his body is weighed down?

❤️

In the same week as the lasagna night (which wasn’t a dream, by the way. Bucky really woke up on the floor, and despite still being full in the morning, he made the poor decision to have breakfast. He should’ve regretted it with how his gut throbbed after devouring two whole boxes of cereal, one brand-new gallon of whole milk, and two cream cheese-slathered bagels, but… he didn’t. It made him feel better to keep up the overwhelming tight, heavy, hot fullness, barely able to drag himself to the couch to sleep it all off) Bucky watches Clint and Natasha come home from a two-week mission. They’re both scraped up and bruised, eyes dull from their exhaustion. Neither of them has any serious, terrible injuries but…

Bucky can’t help but think about Steve. Steve can heal minor injuries (and more than minor injuries) easily, but he’s taken advantage of because of that ability. Often. Bucky has seen it, again and again, Steve will go on new missions while still healing injuries from the last mission. Bruises fading. Broken bones still mending. Cuts hardly scarring over before disappearing entirely. Dislocated joints still tender.

He’s thinking about Steve.

Only Steve.

And, suddenly, his body on autopilot, Bucky is outside the Tower, away from his teammates and other reminders of Steve. Before he catches up, his fingers call an Uber using his phone. Then, his mouth has the driver take him to one of his favorite spots, a rundown, old-school diner that serves classic Americana food. The actual classic shit that Bucky remembers eating.

By the time he arrives, all of Bucky is on board with this plan. Except for his stomach. He tries to promise it that he won’t go overboard but…

He’s so hungry.

Easily, Bucky pops his most charming smile, showing off his dimples, and asks the waitress seating him for the booth in the very back corner where he won’t be easily seen. She lets him have it even though he’s alone, and normally corner booths are reserved for bigger groups. Good.

Then, as soon as he’s handed his menu, he goes down the thing, ordering what feels like the entire fucking menu. Not to mention how he double orders some of what he’s had before and knows is good. Still, the waitress dutifully writes down the entire order and brings it to him in manageable waves. If we were thinking properly, he would swear that she does it on purpose, eyeing him with… maybe disbelief? Maybe challenge? Maybe even interest? Either way, she keeps him pliant with lots of refills of creamy, sugared coffee and bubbly, non-diet soda. Then, without even being asked, she brings him a flight of all the different shakes they make.

Bucky is deep in his waking food coma by that point and he’s pretty sure, at first, that he’s hearing things when she claims that they’re the house.

Oh, God.

He has to have even the shakes then, doesn’t he? He can’t refuse free food. Even if he’s about to pop!

The shakes give him a much NOT needed second wind and he vacuums it all up, scarcely remembering that he’s in public and can’t freely belch and moan and hiccup and generally make a scene of how he’s swelling with food. Still, he’s unthinking. Just eating. Stuffing. Growing. Expanding like he doesn’t give a single fuck about the damage actively being done to his waistline.

Bucky eats until he feels so heavy that he could be entirely made of metal, not just his heavy arm. He eats so much that he tiptoes the line of feeling sick. Overstuffed. Weighed down by good full-fat, sugar-sugar (no sweetener for him, thank you very much) food that tastes like home…

“O-oof,” Bucky puffs to himself, shocked by how much harder it is than he remembers to scoot and lift his ass out of the diner booth. Heavy. He doesn’t really fit in the booth anyhow, with his belly pressing painfully against the edge of the table and flowing onto the table itself. He’s so swollen. He needs to get home. He wants to crash and sleep off all these calories. He can’t function he’s so full (but… isn’t that the point?).

❤️

Soon, Bucky has a jittery day, all day, for a few days and he ends up solving the issue by marathon stuffing himself. He JUST went grocery shopping but, there’s nothing that can stop him from cleaning out the entire apartment - the cabinets, pantry, countertops, top of the fridge, fridge itself, and freezer - before giving in and ordering piles of take-out for every meal. Keeping any of his worries for Steve at bay by shoving food into his mouth that only shoves his stomach out fuller and fuller, rounder and rounder, heavier and heavier. It gets to the point that there is no fucking food and he’s sick of take-out despite its convenience.

So, with his belly bursting from his clothes like a dame who’s expecting but didn’t budget for maternity clothes, so she’s making do with what she’s got, he pulls himself out of the apartment on unsteady feet to go grocery shopping. The weight of his belly keeps pulling him forward, making his back arch and hurt. And… Bucky wonders, his cheeks hot, if any of the people around him think he’s round in the family way, not the greedy, stuffing himself beyond sound reason or logic way. He’s seen men be pregnant in the future. Palming his gut in front of the produce, rubbing it, Bucky looks down - he could see it. He could really see it. He looks pretty pregnant. Like. About to pop pregnant. Maybe even overdue. If it were Steve’s baby, though, maybe not. Steve’s baby would be pretty fucking huge and strong and -

Oh, God.

Bucky feels the way the food inside him shifts and churns and his temperature seems to rise at least ten degrees. He needs to stop before his prick gets any ideas and he’s indecent for public with how he’s fantasizing about being stuffed full of Steve like that.

Fuck.

Bucky shivers and hides it by biting into one of the apples he picked out. He needs to keep shopping. Quickly. He needs to get home. (If he’s honest with himself, the thing that he’s looking forward to doing once he gets home is slowly but surely packing every bit of this food into his huge, beach ball belly. How big could he possibly make himself? How badly can he stuff himself full? Hnng.)

His trip takes a turn for the worse then, his tummy is unbearably tight and solid and it keeps hitting the handle of the cart as he waddles behind it, pushing it. Also, with every turn down a new aisle, he keeps seeing Captain America themed cereals and snacks and drinks, and… he misses his guy so badly. So, he snatches it all up. Still! His monstrous gut growls.

Hungry, always so fucking hungry.

How can he still be craving more? It doesn’t make sense! He doesn’t have room for more. But, he supposes he would rather be dealing with an unending appetite than unending, heart-breaking loneliness and stress and anxiety. So… whatever. Bucky eats another apple out of his cart, burping as softly as he can around the juicy flesh of the fruit.

By the time Bucky gets to check out, he has a good amount of empty wrappers to pay for, things that he’s snagged off the shelf because they looked good and he needed to sate his worries, so, he kept stuffing himself.

Eating everything.

Bad, bad idea to go shopping when he’s hungry (even if it seems like he’s always hungry now).

The clerk checking him out doesn’t look pleased with him. But, also seems to have some restraint, appearing to take pity on him (or be making fun of him), murmuring, “bad pregnancy cravings, huh?”

Bucky’s brain short-circuits. He fucking hopes she can’t read his mind. It’s all gluttonous filth now. He does look fucking pregnant. Obviously so. Round and tight. A big fucking globe pulling his back into an arch and making his walk into a waddle, ankles and feet swelling, he’s so goddamn heavy.

“Uh, yeah. Yup,” he grits out awkwardly. He’s very glad the checkout stand comes up to his waist.

It’s too much. Everything. Too much.

Once Bucky’s back at their apartment, he has to have security bring the bags up because he can hardly haul himself out of the car, wedged in behind the steering wheel, let alone the mass amount of food he bought to feed two super soldiers. But! Not even two… just him. Just one.

Just him…

Bucky eats more then. Because Steve enters his mind again.

He eats rapidly as if he’s a half-starved stray dog finding last night's leftovers in the garbage outside, he sweats like a pig while he does it, he pants and huffs and can’t catch his breath with his stomach encroaching on his lungs, pressing out and in, too, he bursts another pair of jeans the button flinging across the room and hitting the wall with how much weight was behind it, and he pops the seams on the side of his shirt with how far his belly expands out after literal days of nonstop eating. He can’t help it. He can’t do anything. He can’t breathe with so much food inside him. He can’t stop panting and moaning, his head spinning. He can’t move yet again. He can’t think about worrying.

❤️

In the morning, Bucky groans like he’s dying, lifting himself out of the dent he’s made in the couch, and heads to the shower to wash off the sweat and crumbs he managed to miss and not suck up like a damn vacuum.

He showers, steps out, and as the steam disappears from the mirror, he’s confronted by the fact that…

He’s chubby.

Like, really chubby.

It looks like he’s swallowed a beach ball or a pillow. His gut is big. There’s some soft fat overlaying his sudden belly (and his thicker thighs and arms as well as bubbling his butt out into a fatter shelf), but really, it’s solid. Solid. Densely packed with so, so much food inside him. God. How did he ever get all of that down his throat? He’s bloated, too. That isn’t helping at all. It’s making it so much worse. After his stuffing spree last night (and the past couple of days), he’s so bloated and tight, and pressing on his belly just makes him ache, it doesn’t get any burps or belches out.

He ends up with the fucking hiccups. Oh. Jesus. He whines to himself between the jolting hiccups. He’s aching with the pressure. The weight. The fullness. His gut and… and underneath his gut, too. He’s so full and swollen, he can’t help it. It’s such an intense feeling and Steve hasn’t been here to, to touch him or do anything, and -

Steeeve.

Bucky tries to stop himself, now worried about Steve being away and Steve when he comes home to find him like… like this.

Blown up like a balloon.

His abs don’t just look stretched, they’re gone! Beyond repair! He had abs the last time Steve saw him, now he’s… round. Big. Heavy - heavier.

But Bucky can’t stop himself. Because he’s an emotional eater. And he’s more worried now than ever. What is happening to Steve on his mission? Is he okay? It’s been a long time since they’ve gotten to call or text, so he has no idea what might be happening… if anything? When is he going to come home? When Steve comes home, how will he react to Bucky being fat? What will he say? Will Bucky be able to lose it if he’s less worried about Steve and he can see Steve and touch him and hold him? Will Bucky blow right back up into the stuffed turkey he is the next time Steve goes on an undercover mission where they can’t keep in touch? It’s all he can think about.

So, he uncontrollably stuffs and packs and shoves food into himself until he’s sprawled out on his back on the cold kitchen floor, groaning and rubbing desperate circles on his complaining belly at all hours of the day. Morning. Evening. Night. It doesn’t matter. He just can’t stop cramming food into himself. And he keeps getting bigger and bigger. Actively growing until -

Steve gives him word that he’s coming home.

Bucky is unspeakably relieved. But, oh, God, what is he gonna do about his weight?

The night before Steve is scheduled to come home, flying back, Bucky eats what feels like, at least, fifteen pounds of Italian takeaway. Everything is carb-heavy, oily, and rich. The only reason Bucky can get to sleep is because of the white noise of his tummy gurgling away, making him forget his worries. Any foolish plan he had to let his bloat go down all tomorrow, not eating until Steve got home, is ruined by the fact that Steve comes home at fucking 5:00 AM.

He crashes into bed with Bucky, and Bucky is so relieved to have him here (and so weighed down by enough pasta to give him a food baby… if babies were fifteen fucking pounds) that he just passes back out after being jostled awake. It’s not until he wakes up much later in the morning - almost noon - being spooned behind by Steve that he freaks out a little. Just a little. He’s remarkably cool, considering that Steve’s big, warm hand is resting perfectly on the fat crest of his gut. He’s pressed against his back where his gain might not be as obvious but… there’s no way he can hide it. When Steve wakes up and processes what he feels, what is he going to say?!

Bucky is jolted so strongly by his emotions that, in trained response, his stomach growls. He’s still stuffed. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t hungry. He’s hungry for relief from his worry and stress and -

Steve shifts, he stretches, he yawns.

He’s! Awake!

Bucky freezes.

His gut gurgles, loudly, trying to get Bucky to feed it.

“Hm, Buck?” Steve sleepily asks while nuzzling into his hair, assuming he spoke and it wasn’t just his overinflated stomach.

Tears prickle Bucky’s eyes, and he suddenly has the fucking hiccups.

Hic. Hic. Hic.

Terrifyingly, Bucky looks down through his watery vision to see his monstrously round tummy jolt and jiggle with each involuntary hiccup. He’s so fat. What is Steve going to say? What is Steve going to do?

“Aw, baby,” Steve’s sleepy voice is so warm on his skin, “got the hiccups?” He squeezes him, strong arms around his wide, soft middle, “you poor thing.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, he shakes his head tightly. No. Go back to sleep, Bucky wills him, testing any possible telepathic link they might have after their ridiculously long lives.

“Shh,” Steve tells him, patting (patting!) the fatty, soft side of his gut where it’s spread out huge and monopolizing so much of the bed, “it’s okay.”

“It’s - hic - it’s not okay,” Bucky whines.

“It’s okay,” Steve touches him so gently, rubbing his jumping, jolting belly, then - Jesus Christ - pulling up his tight sleep shirt to get better access.

Bucky is waiting for the other shoe to drop but it doesn’t. Hic.

“You feel good.” Bucky tries to suck in, but it doesn’t do anything, his abs are too fucking stretched - overtaxed by the sheer volume of food he’s put inside himself, gone forever after funneling so much fat and sugar behind them. “You feel like home,” Steve murmurs into his ear, kissing the back of his neck, “all soft and warm…”

“Oh.” Bucky says involuntarily.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckles, “you have no idea how happy I was to come home and feel you-”

“Feel?”

“Yeah, honey, it was dark. I didn’t want to turn the lights on and wake you up. So, imagine my surprise to feel you like this,” Steve drags his wide palm from the top of his tummy aaaall the way down, “you feel really good.” He squeezes him again. Bucky feels himself squish. Fat. Tubby. Excessive. “You’re all domestic now,” he noses his earlobe sweetly, the hint of an endeared, appreciative laugh in his voice, “soft and warm. Slow and big.”

Bucky swallows, he’s… he’s feeling warmer hearing Steve talk about him - about his body. He’s always liked it when Steve compliments and praises him. Touches him.

“You’re so cuddly. Gonna make it hard for me to let you go.”

“Don’t,” Bucky pleads, turning his head to look at him.

“I won’t,” Steve seals the promise with a kiss, “buuuut, if we wanna keep you like this, then we’re gonna have to get up and get your breakfast, aren’t we?”

Bucky’s gut gurgles loudly as if screaming its agreement.

Steve just smirks, his mouth uncharacteristically sharp for how early it is.

With anticipation, Bucky licks his lips. Should he tell him he’s still tender and stuffed? He doesn’t know how much more he could possibly fit into his stomach but… Bucky doesn’t think he wants Steve to go easy on him.

[bunnidid-reviews]

🐰Nosy Dissociative Parts Ask Game 🌹

I wanted to make an ask meme about things I like asking my OSDDID partsy friends thats a bit on the lighter side ✨ nows your chance to be unabashedly 👀 and to overshare as you like~

1. What do you call a group of parts for you? A flock? A crew? A herd??? Do you call your parts anything different from just Parts?

2. How do you go about figuring out if you’ve split or found another part?

3. How do you figure out who you are in the moment?

4. Do you go to sleep or wake up as different parts? What are dreams like for you?

5. With close(and safe) relationships, is it important to you to disclose about your parts? How much involvement are you comfortable with, if at all?

6. What’s outward gender presentation like for you and your parts? Is it important to you?

7. What’s sexuality like for you? Does having multiple parts effect your relationships?

8. Do you enjoy communicating with your parts? Would you like to share about an interaction you’ve recently had?

9. If you have OCs(original characters), do your parts have any influence on them? Alternatively, if you’re creative in general, do they have any influence?

10. If you had unlimited money and opportunities, is there anything you’d want to do for your parts?

11. Is there any sort of internal organization or structure for your parts? How set-in-place is it?

12. Do any of your parts have special relationships with eachother? Would you like to share about some?

13. Do you have parts that oppose eachother? (In views, personality, ect)

14. Who’s the part that is most likely to deal with high-stress situations first?

15. Do you have parts who are best for self-soothing and regulating?

16. Is there anything about your disorder that has a physical effect on you? (Like headache/sleepiness with switching, chronic illness as a result of trauma, ect)

17. If you have friends with parts too, are you close on a part-by-part basis or more general whole people? Would you prefer it to be one way or the other?

18. Are there any reoccurring themes or symbolism in your system? Would you like to share about it?

19. How do you honestly feel about therapy? Have you had experience with it? If you have, what is/was your therapeutic relationship like?

20. Did you have a way to explain away the dissociation to yourself or others? (“I feel like I’ve never belonged”, “I’m just super forgetful” ect)

21. When you feel safe sharing about your parts with someone, which part is the “easiest” to introduce/explain about?

22. Do you have any parts that feel almost opposite to you?

23. Do any of your parts have a different sensory experience to you overall?

24. Do you have an inner world? Whether you do or not, what would be a safe space for your parts?

25. Do you know what your parts look like? If so, how do you visualize them?

26. How do your parts present in person? Is it externally noticeable you think?

27. Has anyone ever told you something you did or said without you knowing?

28. How long have you known about your parts? Comparing since then to now, what all’s changed?

29. How many known parts do you have, if you can count?

30. Here’s your prompt to ramble about something parts-related you haven’t had a chance to share!

[unsureofu]

overshare, ramblings at 1am in June:

I stopped smoking almost three months ago and it seems like my two and half year period of hypersexuality has come to a close.

I read the year of magical thinking and blue nights and the time keeper and the song of achilles and now I’m reading time is a mother and the five people you meet in heaven and I feel like I’ve been knocked back into my reality. I was falling in love with him, he said the kindest and sweetest words to me I have ever heard and we shared moments that I do not believe can ever be replicated with anyone else. he reciprocated every sentiment I gave him and more, so much more. he left an impact on me I’ve been trying to hide. the first person to tell me I’m beautiful. we shared stories of our favourite movies, both somehow detailing the great death of a man who leaves a woman behind, unbeknownst as to what was to come. I can still feel his fingers on my check, his hand around my throat, his arms around my waist. and then he ended his own life, two days after one of many phone calls where he said he would see me soon. this time, it won’t be until I pass myself.

I haven’t worn my contacts once since he told me he liked my glasses. I never fixed the broken dresser he promised he would. he was the very first person I told I truly want to be writer. I have had his obituary open as the first tab on my web app ever since. I’ve been waiting for him. now that I no longer smoke and my mind may just be returning from automatic, I dream of him again. I dream that he says he cares about me to such depths that I cared for him, saying the same things he has already said to me but in other words. I was falling in love with him, it was just the beginning. I was not yet done getting to know him, but I probably never would have been. I’m seeing that every person I threw myself at was not him, it could never be him. I feel I failed to honour him by touching any others. I don’t want to spend nights with others anymore and I’m so sorry I ever did. two and a half years after his death, I’m so sorry I ever tried to delay my grief for him. I’m so sorry I sought out others after you. I was not ready then and I’m still not ready now. I want him back and no one else. what happened between us, no one can take away from me. I will always hold those memories, however haunting, and I hope that it’ll never be too late to honour them.

I never believed in any kind of afterlife but now I feel I must, the only way I’ll survive. my mind instinctively refers to what we had as the greatest love story never seen, never given the chance to flourish. because he took his own life in the middle of I falling in love with him.

[freaky-dan]

EXTREMELY LATE UPDATED INTRO

My Name Is Dan

My Pronouns are They/Them

I Speak English

Real Live Florida Man in the wild on tumblr

I'M A MINOR (14-17 range i'm not being specific)

Lesbian/Asexual

Basic DNI and if you know me from school and we have beef gtfo

I have a tendency to overshare and ramble and I type very dry a lot of the time so please don't take it as me being pretentious or disengenuous because theres a 90% chance I am giggling gleefully behind the screen.

I draw surrealist art and funny stuff

whenever i get passionate about something i'll either start swearing like a hazbin hotel character or spitting out brainrot terms like the kindergarten mafia of the elementary school prime black market.

also I carn't spel.

bye!!

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Hello! I was wondering if you could match me for Haikyuu, Bungou and Genshin.

Pronouns: I use he/him pronouns only, im a trans guy :D

Sexuality: I am gay! and acespec :D I only like men

Zodiac and MBTI: Im a Taurus/INTJ

Appearance: Im 5'6, Ive got a pretty pale complexion, my eyes are close to a chocolate brown. Ive got a short bob cut to my chin, brown hair with a bunch of pink highlights, all different shades from not dying it correctly. Gold-rimmed glasses that are kinda rounded with thick lenses, ive got really bad eyesight. Ive pretty much got a twink build, so look at Venti? Yea like that.

Personality: im pretty introverted, i dont really talk to people all that much until i get a chance to ramble ablution my interests, and then i could go on for hours. I tend to be quite sarcastic with most anyone, and get annoyed really easily when people make obvious mistakes/being idiotic, despite me doing similar things myself. Even tho Ive said all this, i sometimes get shoved into the therapist role to have everyone talk to me about their life problems. I also sometimes tend to overshare about things in my life to literall strangers. So fun.

Likes: Cosplaying, anime, music, VOCALOID, Story and lore heavy games like genshin, collecting rocks, any kind of gemstone, sea shells, manga collecting, reading, laying around in bed, going to conventions.

Dislikes: Spiders and snakes, people cutting in front of me in line, people walking slow in front of me, especially when i need to go somewhere in a hurry. realistic blood and death, Loud noises and sudden bright lights, excess amounts of cheese on pizzas, especially if its just mozzarella, squashes and zucchini (i have a reason) and certain clothing textures touching when i wear them. Also dresses. I hate dresses, especially ones that go past my knees.

Hobbies: Cosplay is one, i love doing it and makeup just for fun to go out in, i really like playing video games, i adore reading manga, and other light novels.

Other things: Ive got diagnosed insomnia and its difficult for me to sleep without holding something like a pillow, plush animal, or another person. I also wear an earphone headband to sleep with white noise.

Hi! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took a while. I hope you like your matchups!

In Haikyuu, I match you with...

You and Bokuto are certainly the odd couple at first glance. Where you’re introverted, Bokuto is bouncing around and being an extrovert in every sense of the word.

He absolutely loves listening to you ramble. It’s one of the only times he’ll be quiet himself since it’s such a change from what you’re usually like.

As soon as he finds out that you sleep better while holding something, he’s going to be completely insufferable. Did you know he sleeps better when he’s being held? Well, he’s not sure it that’s true but there’s no harm in trying right?!

Please get him into Vocaloid. Bokuto strikes me as someone who hasn’t really listened to much before but as soon as he discovers Hatsune Miku, he’s found his hyperfixation.

People cutting in line definitely irks him as well but while you might be too introverted to say anything, he’s puffing out his chest and giving them a piece of his mind. There’s no way he’s going to just let them cut in front of the two of you like that.

In Bungo Stray Dogs, I match you with...

Okay, since you’re easily annoyed, Dazai might seem like a strange matchup since he’s likely the source of most of your annoyance. But I really do think you’d get along well.

He’s always keeping an eye out for gemstones and sea shells to give you. He knows you like collecting them and likes being able to add to your collection.

Dazai would love going to conventions with you! He thinks they’re great fun and they take his mind off his suicidal tendencies for a while.

He totally gets that loud noises and bright lights can be a lot and he’s quite understanding when you reach your limit. He’ll happily step away from the action for a while to keep you company while you recover.

Please recommend some manga for him to read. I see him as someone who likes manga because it’s easy and quick to read. He also likes a lot of the characters.

In Genshin Impact, I match you with...

You and Kaveh are an unstoppable sarcasm duo. No one can stand in your way and Alhaitham is so tired of your combined antics.

It’s a good thing you’re the therapist friend because Kaveh needs a comforting presence in his life. He’s also more than happy to lend an ear if and when you need to get stuff off your chest as well.

He loves that you like collecting things. He’ll design rotating shelves and cabinets for you to house your collections in.

He’s an interesting balance of a slow walker and a fast walker. When he’s by himself, he’ll usually take it slow and admire his surroundings. But when he’s with someone, he’ll walk faster.

Please get him into cosplay! Kaveh would be so into designing and making his own costumes and would love helping you out with yours as well.

[lords-of-mayhem]

Chapter four of Mariners Apartment Complex

Chapter summary: “Come to my apartment after the laundry is done. I’ve got a new type of wine I think you’ll enjoy,” Øystein offered.

Words: 1,250

Øystein woke up the following morning feeling gross. His come had dried over his stomach and the rest had clung to his sheets from where he had been too exhausted to clean himself off the night before. He groaned as he stripped the bed down, wishing he had more than one set of sheets in that moment, but wishing did not magically make another set appear. Shoving it all into a laundry basket, he made his way across the street to the laundromat. 

Dreadfully, Varg was sitting on the bench there. Apparently, nights where he jerked strange men off in the street had the same outcome as his loud nights did. Øystein added this to his mental notes of everything he knew about Varg and tried to avoid eye contact. There was no way Varg could tell his sheets were dirty and far less of a way for him to know he’d jerked off last night to thoughts of him. It didn’t feel that way, though. It felt like Varg could see every dirty thought he’d had, every movement of his hand, and every drop that he’d spilled. 

“Good morning to you too,” Varg said sarcastically when it was clear that Øystein wasn’t going to greet him. The words made his head spin, never knowing what Varg wanted from him. He would act bothered by Øystein talking to him and then he acted equally bothered by Øystein giving him space. He thought maybe Varg had a sixth sense for knowing what would irritate Øystein most, a supernatural way of knowing what Øystein wanted and a natural inclination for going against it. 

“Good morning, Varg. Cold out today, isn’t it?” Øystein replied, stopping before he could open the door and giving his best smile at the younger man. It felt strained and awkward, and he hoped that Varg couldn’t tell something was off. He nearly let out a sigh of relief when Varg just scoffed and rolled his eyes at him. Good, this was a normal reaction and Øystein had never been so happy for Varg to be unfriendly towards him. “Come to my apartment after the laundry is done. I’ve got a new type of wine I think you’ll enjoy,” Øystein offered, letting his impulsivity take over.

These days, Varg drank anything he could get his hands on. This was most often the cheapest beer he could afford with Faust’s help and they always split it. This was apparently a new thing for Varg, though. According to Faust, Varg used to never so much as touch beer, let alone anything harder. Øystein thought the newfound enjoyment for drinking might coincide with Varg’s turn to prostitution, taking an escape where he could. If Faust knew about Varg’s occupation, which Øystein couldn’t see how Faust wouldn’t know, he didn’t mention it. 

Faust truly did care about Varg and his privacy in this regard. He told Øystein everything else, even things he was certain Faust was not meant to be telling. Another side effect of being young, teenagers loved oversharing things they really ought to keep to themselves. He never complained about this because it had always benefited him, and he truly didn’t mind listening to Faust ramble about whatever was on his mind. 

“Knock when you’re back,” Varg told him simply, putting out his cigarette and rising to his feet. He was walking back across the street and towards the apartment complex before Øystein had a chance to reply. He was conflicted on how to feel about this. On one hand, Varg had accepted his offer and he was happy about it. On the other hand, he had hoped Varg would stay and they could chat. He’d never seen Varg leave the laundromat so quickly and he was certain Varg had only left now to avoid him. 

Varg was quite fickle, Øystein had come to find. He would give Øystein just enough attention, just enough affection, to make him think they were getting somewhere. Then he would turn cold and indifferent once again. He would do things like agreeing to come spend time with Øystein and then he would go out of his way to avoid being around him. Øystein simply hoped that by the time the laundry was finished, Varg would still want to come over.

A little over an hour later, Varg was stepping into Øystein’s apartment and closing the door behind himself. He looked around at everything and carefully took in his surroundings, seeming to be judging every object Øystein had and every decoration he’d put up. Unsurprisingly, Varg had been drawn to his record cabinet and looked over each album. 

“Pick something out and we can listen to it,” Øystein offered to him, smiling as Varg sat down on the floor in front of the cabinet. He inspected a few different albums while Øystein fetched the wine and two glasses. He didn’t have any actual wine glasses, he was honestly surprised he even had two glasses clean at all, but he figured Varg wouldn’t mind. 

“You have a signed Venom album?” Varg asked and Øystein glanced over at him, watching as he held up an album. He offered the younger man a bright smile, pride rising in his chest, nodding in confirmation. “Of course, you listen to Venom. You would,” Varg scoffed, placing the record back on the shelf a bit too roughly. Øystein’s smile faded, having to regroup. It hadn’t been the reaction he’d expected at all and he felt embarrassment rise in his throat at the pure amount of judgment coming from Varg. 

“Well, what do you like then?” Øystein asked once he’d gathered himself up, trying to act like it hadn’t hurt his pride. Varg didn’t answer for a few seconds. Finally, he climbed to his feet and brought the album with him, offering it to Øystein. “Of course, you listen to Bathory,” Øystein told him as he looked at the album, only about half joking with him, but the words didn’t have their intended effect. Varg just scoffed again, smirking at Øystein. 

“It was in your record cabinet,” Varg pointed out, taking a seat at the small table that served as the dining room. Øystein hated that he had a point and that his words hadn’t even gotten to him a little, but he pushed past it for now. “Pour me a drink?” He asked, giving Øystein a smile this time around. It was less of a smirk and far more of a sweet look, and Øystein decided very quickly that he was glad his words hadn’t upset Varg. 

“Of course,” Øystein said a bit too enthusiastically, picking up the nicer of the two glasses and pouring it full for Varg. “Here,” He offered it to him, watching as the glass was taken delicately from his hand. “It’s made of rice instead of grapes. I thought you’d like it,” He explained, taking a seat and pouring some into his own glass. The biggest ration would go to Varg, he’d already decided that much. 

His own glass remained untouched as he watched Varg taking a sip out of his, hoping Varg would enjoy the wine. He grinned when Varg gave an approving nod and went for another sip, finally drinking from his own. He didn’t care too much for it and if it was up to him, he wouldn’t spend that much on a bottle of wine again, but Varg liked it. He made a mental note to buy another bottle.

[digisurvive]

Saki ramblings

I think it's funny that Aoi and Saki might outwardly look like opposites— the serious, reserved, anxious girl and the carefeee, outgoing optimist— bc what they both choose to say is very measured and there's a high degree of reservation for both. With Saki, it makes her appear downright flighty and oblique, whereas Aoi comes off as more lenient & docile & overall a lot more repressed lol I think it could be fun to write them both running into each others' emotional walls

The other thing that is fun is that Aoi generally likes talking about what bothers her. If you prod her, she tends to overshare. She is super consistent lol She likes being asked her opinions on things, having the chance to voice her misgivings w/o disturbing the morale of the group and to be reassured about things; plus she deeply dislikes having her concerns dismissed through "don't worry so much" lol

On the other hand, Saki gets annoyed/upset if you press her. Saki really isn't upfront about what she wants. She takes the edge off situations through jokes like Minoru (this makes the way she's rude to him extra funny lol Hating the mirror that reflects you, huh), but hers are more charged because even if she says it lightly, she's still taking notice to the ways the other respond. Sometimes she just wants to play around and be comforted without going into the gritty details and others she wants to actually talk about things sincerely but she won't openly say which time is which.

Her bluntness is interesting for me because she (& Floramon) tend to get annoyed when Takuma is tepid/too conciliatory, but Saki herself is fairly adverse to conflict. Not just disliking the fact they have to fight the mons, she gets outright weary of the group fights. That passage in pt4 where Aoi gets mad at Kaito and yells at him to let her handle the child digimon trio? Saki was 'oh boy, now even Aoi is getting mad.' So, it's funny that she gets annoyed at Takuma for being tepid when she herself doesn't wanna get involved in the arguments— even when she has a clear stance (Like when she told Minoru that voting on a human life was unethical. But still preferred to just watch Kaito and Shuuji fight, though she arguably agrees w/ Kaito). Both because she fears rejection so she would rather not disrupt the group and bc that conflict aversion.

At the beginning of the story, her bluntness reads more like impulsiveness for this reason. I'd have liked to see it evolve to a more conscious frankness tbh! (the response the affinity dialogues provide about her stance on conflict is really good though).

I love also love how utterly incompatible she's w/ Shuuji LOL I love So Much that affinity dialogue in pt3 where Shuuji is crying about the Professor & Saki can't stand him 😂 Despite sharing the risk/conflict aversion, they express it in such clashing ways. I love how utterly unfair she's to him in that scene. Part of Shuuji's conflict is that he isn't allowed to express that sensitive, crybaby side of his & it spills without control. He feels even less allowed as the oldest there, and it's such a moment that reinforces that. Not that you can blame Saki for not wanting/being able to engage, it's just that delicious incompatibility.

I also wish we had gotten more out of her and Ryo as foils because they're really similar in core ways: their desire to be accepted, extreme sensitivity to how they're perceived, their keenness; yet they'd seem to express in nearly opposite ways. I feel that they could've worked as a meta pair in a similar way Aoi n Shuuji do.

[xannerz]

👶 rambling/life update time-

After like 10+ years of being here, I've told myself I'd start limiting how open I am on Tunglr abt my personal life. And it's not so much b/c I feel like I overshare too much? It's a micro-blogging site at the end of the day, and w/ a p limited following, I don't think griping about work or family issues now and then is really damaging to me or my image (a positive of not being a Bopular Blogger 🤢).

Felt like I'd come off as a whiner at worst (smiles fondly at my newly-retired!personal tag), but I think it's fair to say most people on here are struggling one way or the other, and I'm not too invested in being an enigma. Was like that as a kid - would walk up to strangers and blab about my family's life story. Strangers found it funny and charming - my parents, on the other hand, not so much LMFAO

I'm chronically online LMAO but Tunglr's never been my primary outlet, and I'm grateful (so grateful) that I already have a p strong support network irl (though my personal coping skills have fallen off and I'm trying to work on that). I have a lot of local friends and each of them are so kind and special to me.

I think my wanting to create some distance through personal posts is... really just b/c I've had a smattering of kindauncomfortablefrustrating interactions w/ folks that felt. parasocial. And IK it was a result of me being v open about my feefees in rb tags and personal posts. And Idk, after the last one or two interactions, I think I'm ready to ig choose not to talk about everything that happens as much?? it's still my blog, and I noticed I havent been chattering away as much lately anyway, but yeah.

I like that people can feel comfortable with me. It's cool. (And funny, b/c most people tell me I'm chill, but another friend's told me that I'm intimidating irl and i'm like girl what absolutely not I just hate everyone at this party LMFAOO--)

But I think it's just worth carving out some silent boundaries b/c the only conclusion I can reach is that those negative interactions in the past were just a result of - idk. People projecting enough onto me/our relationship just b/c of how open I can be on my own blog??? ykwim??

I hate saying this b/c it feels like a giant "dni! ever!" when it's not; it's more abt me filtering myself to help avoid negative interactions w/ people i barely know. I like talking to people! I like that I'm approachable (or so I'm told LMFAO), and I like to interact w/ folks!-- but I think when you get DMs from ppl acting like you've known each other for your entire life (not just respectful and friendly ykwim)-- that's... that's not great LMFAO it puts a burden on me to dance around that without being an asshole about it b/c i dont like brInging the hAmMER down on someone unless i really have to. idk if the person on the other end is in a fragile state or not, and it's easier not to up the chances of me triggering some weird meltdown.

with that said (time for a hard left here!!!). I've been stressed. I've been at the lowest point of my life for a while now - mentally, physically, financially. I'm extremely sleep deprived b/c I've been (predictably) fussing over Vigo for days. I'll be gone next week, but he's been responding well to his heart meds so I have to have faith he'll be okay while I'm out of town. My dr was begging me to enjoy this vacation b/c I look like a zombie. I'm gonna try to take it easy. I can't, really, but I'll try! I'll try.

I'll drop updates if Vigo's condition changes, but I'm relieved he's doing okay. Honestly, if it weren't for his breathing, you wouldn't even know his murmur's advanced at all. I'm grateful he still has an appetite and light in his eyes. I love this dog, man. He's just such. such a good boy. But there's just too much going on, and it's good for me to be cognizant about how focusing on my personal journal and crafts would be better for me in the long run, than expose myself to folks who simply might get the wrong idea about who I am, and DM me acting like we're best friends like whoareyougetoutofmyhouse i'm not your mother LMAO

ok. ok i feel better now. im gonna prep frozen boba from the freezer. peace and blessings on this friday ✊😔💖

[go-to-the-mirror]

FROM: landscaping-your-mind

TO: @a-mag-a-day

RE: MAG 111 - Family Business

Howdy a-mag-a-day, and others who may be reading,

This is a bit more of a liveblog than the others, because this is going to be my second time listening to it, so expect quite a bit of rambling!

You can expect: thoughts about Gerry Keay, thoughts about Jon, thoughts about the fears. There will be a lot of thoughts about Jon. He's my favourite.

I really don't understand why the fandom treats Trevor and Julia like they're bad people, like yeah, it's not great to keep Gerry trapped like that, or to kidnap random people (Jon) and threaten to murder them, but it's not... in the grand scheme of things, it's really not that bad. Like they're still avatars, they've still done bad stuff, it's just been highly overstated. In my opinion. Maybe I just like their voices, I like Peter Lukas because I like his voice. I like Elias' voice too but in a "I want to punch him" way.

"And his only thought was to cry out for his mother. But with the last vestige of his stubborn will, he refused. She would not claim his last moment. He was silent."

D: I'm feeling Emotions rn. Just the she would not claim his last moment like she claimed so many of them before. Feeling emotions. At the risk of oversharing on tumblr dot com, I will just say "ADHD mood, but in a specific to me way". It's just... his life right, he didn't even have the chance to have a normal life, and he's going to die by himself, because she doesn't get this. She can take everything else but not this.

GERRY Nice lighter. You a spider freak, then? ARCHIVIST What? Oh! Er, no. I-I never really, uh… I never really thought of it.

*vibrating* I'm going to be Completely normal about this. How many times has that lighter even been mentioned. I know it was obviously in the episode where it came, MAG 38 (?), MAG 39, this episode, MAG 197, MAG 199, and of course MAG 200. But like hh whenever it's mentioned I just die a little inside anyway of course it's mentioned in the "my life will be ruined and all you will do is watch" episode, and the "my life was ruined by forces beyond my control" episodes.

Yep.

GERRY Yeah, the world changes in horrible ways. For you. I’m a book. ARCHIVIST You can’t be serious. GERRY I’m dead serious.

I love him he's so silly and goofy (in immense pain from being a book). I love Gerry's voice I think it's just it's like a mixture of like he's got the sort of uhhh done with everything and emotionless but also he does sound angry and gets steadily more so as he talks about the trials of being a spooky book. But still quiet. I like it.

ARCHIVIST Just one. How do I stop the Unknowing? GERARD [Casually] No, I don’t know. ARCHIVIST [Incensed] What?! (...) GERRY But, once it starts, then it might be vulnerable. ARCHIVIST Vulnerable to what? GERRY I dunno. ARCHIVIST Oh, goddamn it!

Gerry is absolutely enjoying this. Also

"Well, not long before I ended up in the hospital, she told me that if something got her first, I was… There’s a storage unit on an industrial estate up near Hainault. She said she rented it under the name Jan Kelly, and hid a key for it somewhere in the Archives."

Firstly, I'm guessing the name "Jan Kelly" is either a reference to Jan Kilbride, perhaps? Or maybe it's just a random name. Secondly, does this imply that Gerry would be the Archivist if he hadn't died before Gertrude? Of course, Elias never would have picked him, because he knew too much, and (probably) knew to be suspicious of Elias, but that's interesting. Archivist Gerry...

GERRY Hmmm… Well, she could make people tell her stuff, sometimes. They’d suddenly get real talkative, and lay out whatever she needed. She didn’t do it often though. I don’t think she liked it. ARCHIVIST [Perky] Oh, er, I can do that, too. GERRY Huh. Do you like it? ARCHIVIST I-I don’t know. I never really thought about it. Yes, I… I suppose I do.

Firstly, the way Jon says "Oh, er, I can do that, too" is so adorable. Secondly, something something at least one side effect of the become a monster thing actually gives him a defense against the things that want to kill and/or harm him, and a way to get information he doesn't have to doubt. Of course he likes it. It's the one thing he can control in his life that is spiraling off course. Also, you know. Hurt people hurt people. When you're under that level of stress it can feel good to feel in control, even when feeling in control is doing horrible things. Ah, I can't wait till Scrutiny.

ARCHIVIST Like the, the Lukases? Or the Fairchilds? GERRY Well, Fairchild’s just a name, they’re not really family. The Lukases, though, yeah.

Diversity win!! The Vast Avatars who pushed you off a cliff to your death are found family!!!!!!!!

GERRY What’s out there… doesn’t care about blood. ARCHIVIST Well, I-I mean, except for the vampires… GERARD Yeah, obviously except for the vampires

I just love this line okay-

Families are just useful ‘cause they can push you in the right direction. And the Lukases are very good at that.

I have ✨feelings✨ about childhoods and TMA and stuff. Like Martin's only at the institute at all, because he has to look after his mum, he got dragged into the whole Lonely thing because he's just lived a really lonely life that ends up with his mum dead, friend in a coma, other friends dead, and only hostage work acquaintances left. Jon had a neglectful grandmother who bought him a Leitner, not that it was his grandmother's fault that he was almost killed by a spider monster, but he was like regularly abused by an eighteen (at least) year old when he was 8 and his grandmother made him feel like a burden so I am blaming her for some things. And then of course Gerry's only in the world of the supernatural because of his awful mother who cared more about fucked up if true books than her son. And then there's a bunch more but just... hhh. Your childhood can fuck you up, and then you end up being an adult who's tied to an eldritch entity beyond your comprehension apparently. Oh also Mike Crew. Mike Crew had such a Life, and I have so many thoughts about him, but I'll get into that at a later date (probably around one of the more jangsty episodes). Also Agnes. Jon Gerry Agnes trio my beloved.

ARCHIVIST What happened? GERRY I tried to abandon her. ARCHIVIST I see.

I get why people ship Jongerry, Jon's voice was so soft anyway they're platonic in my heart but like i'm holding them gently they're besties your honour, testament? what? never heard of faer.

Oh this statement happens in pride month! Diversity win!!

She did her best to look after me, and bring me into this world she inhabited, but she wasn’t a caring mother or a skilled teacher.

(Gerry Keay, MAG 111)

She cared for me as well as she was able, and whatever her private feelings might have been, she did try her best.

(The Archivist, MAG 81)

Anyway uhm Jon, consider uh, being like Gerry and believing that actually the people who failed at raising you were way older than you, were supposed to be way more capable, and it wasn't your fault. Please.

And the worst thing was, she marked me as a part of that, without my understanding. Or consent.

Jon Gerry Agnes trio rotating in my mind. Childhood supernatural trauma? Check. Being the centre of a ritual? Check for Jon and Agnes. Being involved in the world of the supernatural from a young age? Check. Holding 'em gently actually. Thinking about them is not enough I need to have an Agnes statement. /hj

I think… I think I finally understand why she brought me back. I just don’t understand why she left me behind.

:(

I always think it helps to imagine them like colours. The edges bleed together, and you can talk about little differences: “oh, that’s indigo, that’s more lilac”, but they’re both purple. I mean, I guess there are technically infinite colours, but you group them together into a few big ones. A lot of it’s kind of arbitrary. I mean, why are navy blue and sky blue both called blue, when pink’s an entirely different colour from red?

And colours are different in different languages! And that I'm guessing affects how we see them. At least different languages affects how we see shapes in words, and so sure, Smirke's fourteen was used by Elias for the ritual, but only because both he and Jon had a belief in that as a good system for categorization? And also how yellow literally doesn't exist in a way we can see, but we still say it does. And how magenta is just. There. Weird colours that don't make sense! I love thinking about the rear entities (being confused but in a really enthusiastic way)

Like colours, but if colours hated me. Got it. Christ, I need a cigarette.

<3

ARCHIVIST The Stranger is the, the unknown. The uncanny. GERRY That kind of creeping sense that something’s not right. That guy you saw that might be following you, might mean you harm.

(MAG 111 - Family Business)

I’m just reading, and there is this… creep in the corner- your guy. He just… keeps staring at me, like- oh, properly staring, like it is super intense. And, and real… weird? Like he knows me, but I sure as hell do not know him. I – I try to ignore him, look, I just – I just read my book. And everytime I look up – there he is. Watchin’ me.

(MAG 142 - Scrutiny)

Like okay I know being watched, eye, whatever, but also fear soup, Stranger!Jon. Will die here on this hill. Nice view.

GERRY Yeah. Being manipulated or puppeted. The worry you’re caught in a trap you can’t see. ARCHIVIST Yes. ...

Jon did The Yes. :( The one where it's like almost a sigh and you can here the Thought Spirals.

Gerard was what my mum called me. [Embarrassed chuckle] I always wanted my friends to call me Gerry.

Oh. Oh I'm so sad :( feeling so many emotions about this episode I get why it's a fan favourite :(

Also, at the end there, I really wish we got more of Julia and Trevor. I like them, and I feel like they could've come around to the idea of burning Gerry's page. I'm not upset about how it went, but... hmm. Thinking.

Anyway, I'm really sad about this and feeling all kinds of emotions about Gerry Keay. I understand you now. D:

[hectordoylesmalewife]

Hello! just checking if your requests are still open, because maybe you forgot to update your bio or anything, but I have a request, so you do oc writings right?? Like Oc x Reader? I feel really shy typing all this🫠

How do you think a relationship with Jack Hanma would go with my oc?? (My oc afab but you can definitely use they/them pronouns or just ignore the fact they're afab, they don't care :3) Maybe add NSFW if you're fine with it??🥹 Her name's "Izanami Mikoto" Her name is directly inspired from the Japanese Goddess of Death

I'll try to make this as brief as possible...

• My oc is your classic "Introverted Emo Character who's been through it all so they act nonchalant all the time" But she has a sprinkle of sarcasticness and very dark humor. She's heavily inspired by Raiden Ei/Shogun (from genshin impact) and by those really pretty and anime-like dolls for her looks (not figurines!!!)

• Funfact!: My oc is a human made in a lab so she's not a real human, but an almost authentic one! She's the most successful experiment, she was given super human abilities and an exoskeleton, meaning she's able to withstand strong forces/attacks so she's very tough to bruise (Do whatever you'd like with that info if you'd like to add NSFW...👀) And the scientists took the chance to begin experimenting with her, mostly a lot of painful stuff to see how long she'd withstand it, yet she managed to escape

• She's intellectual and oddly talented in a lot of things, especially in fighting and using any bladed weapons (Almost no one knows she's a lab experiment)

• An extra one if you're willing to add NSFW (No pressure!!) She may seem really experienced but she's actually a virgin, since, you know, she's not a real human, just an almost authentic one, but she does have knowledge about it

(btw if you're confused by what I mean an almost authentic human, she resembles and almost functions as a real one, except everything physical about her is fake/made by science, including organs, veins, blood, skeletons and just everything about her)

Sorry if it's too much info and if it's really cringe to read, and sorry for my non-stop ramblings! I tend to overshare stuff, I'd like to add more about my oc's backstory, and maybe change some, but I don't wanna overwhelm you and I only came here for a request!

Anyways, again no pressure and it's fine if you're not willing to do it, just reply to this saying you're not gonna do it if you won't so I'll know! I'll check your blog again tomorrow 🫶🫰

-🪷anon (New anon!!)

Hello sweet dear! I would love to do a fic for you, however I will need a direct message for this kind of stuff so I can be more clear and not mess up.

I can try to make your oc as Gender neutral as possible I just don’t want to disrespect their character or not make anything incorrect. You don’t need to be shy ☺️ you can DM me more if you like.

[spacelazarwolf]

would it be ok if i asked some (probably very dumb) questions about judaism? and if i did is that anything like. at all youd want me to avoid doing(like rambling or oversharing or whatever idk examples)

sorry, this is to be completely honest half for my comfort, i know theres like a 98% chance i end up messing up and being an asshole, and would like to lower that chance as much as possible

yeah that’s fine. anything i don’t feel comfortable answering i’ll try to refer you to other resources.

[emmebearpaw]

You know I don't normally dip too far into NSFW content on this blog but uh. Surprise. I am a being that has carnal desires and also has thoughts about those desires. I'll throw it beneath a read more so people don't get fugcking jump scared by a discussion on kink and also because putting things below a read more helps my brain go "maybe this isn't oversharing" even though it definitely is. Oh god what am I about to write.

DISCLAIMER. This is not an invitation to send me anything related to it. I'm not interested in that please don't send me anything. I'm not looking for anything related to that. I will be putting a slash through the word to prevent any chance tumblr accidentally pulls it up in a search result because i do not want my blog to be about this.

Can you stop having a kink? At what point does the use of nontypical erotic material become a kink? These are question I've been asking myself recently as I sort of came to the realization that I don't know if I'm actually into hypn/osis. I was thinking about dancing around what kink it is for the sake of my embarrassment, but you know I think for the sake of this discussion I just need to state what the hell I'm talking about it. At some point I stumbled upon a sfw hypn/osis video, fell down the rabbit hole and got into spicier stuff. At one point I do think I was genuinely very interested in (at least some flavors) of hypn/o, though I also got into it very close to when I was just beginning to explore my sexuality, so I can't quite say for certain.

Anyways, sounds great, why am I asking about not having a kink? Well, for context, I consider myself fairly asexual (aspec would be a better term but like), but to make a long story short, I'm rarely attracted to real people or fictional characters and also commonly find myself repulsed by things fairly critical to most erotic content. Like the whole erotic part of the content. I also suffer from chronic "I have to focus on something or else I will lose the mood" disease. This has thus put me in a scenario where making up scenarios or finding material to focus on is difficult, especially as I'm a lesbian. Which is where hypn/o comes back in. I think overtime, my interest in it as opposed to vanilla has decreased a lot, but I'm still reading it. And I never examined that I wasn't into it because I was still reading it, but I think I'm reading it for different reasons now.

It's erotica. I'm using it as erotica. Which is sort of the intended purpose but I'm not engaging with the premise anymore, and haven't been for a while now. Hypn/o is a genre of erotica which: can involve no characters besides you and a narrator (which helps with the asexuality hurdle), tells you to focus and gives you something to either listen to or read, and often even things to look at that are constantly changing (helping keep focus to keep the mood), and while it also suffers from a maledom/femsub leaning can often be dodged altogether if you are reading it rather than listening (though presumed reader genitals/pronouns/terms are a hurdle). Anyways I find this fascinating, I'm ostensibly into a kink culture, but have not and don't plan* on engaging with its most common form of engagement nor am i good at playing its fantasy or doing any of the things people do in it. I'm pretty horrible at it honestly. But that's because I doubt I ever actually gained a lot of experience in its play. Anyways there isn't really a point to this ramble. It's not like I think I'm going to change much of my behavior, and it was probably not insightful for anyone with more experience in kink than I and absolutely boring if not an auto skip for those who have less but it was interesting to write out and organize my thoughts a bit so I guess it lives here now.

[plural-affirmations]

Hi again,

I'm actually very much able to converse with my headmates, just meant that it'd be nice to be able to talk to people other than my headmates about all of this. Also just haven't figured out what the right words to describe us are, and certainly haven't become comfortable using them lol.

Either way, might be good to introduce who we have here? If it's not yet obvious, I don't entirely know what I'm doing. Going to avoid names for the sake of anonymity, which admittedly is going to make this annoying.

First of all, there's me. I'm pretty sure it's correct to refer to me as the host and core? I'm the only one who's controlled the body (so far). Then there's my headmates - there's currently three of them, all of them dragons.

The eldest I'm pretty sure is willogenic? I was bored while shopping and decided to imagine a little dragon following me, and then she was there. Comforted me when I got stressed later that day, and basically has been doing that since (minus two separate occasions where I forgot about her for a bit). If I remember correctly, the His Dark Materials series influenced me to even try that, and also shaped how I thought about her in the beginning. She's been the most active one generally (which I do feel a bit bad for, like I'm playing favourites?).

The other two I am significantly less able to classify in any way. For both of them, there was some sort of… presence? It's realy hard to describe, but there was some feeling for a few days before they arrived, which they did suddenly? It's really hard to describe, especially working only from memory.

Happened two separate times obviously, both times in periods where I was stressing about upcoming events, the more recent actually being in the process of composing the original ask I wrote lol.

Either way, desperately hoping I'm not oversharing lol. If I used any words wrong or there any others that you think might be useful please do tell me. Hope you're having a good day either way, thanks for reading my ramblings.

-⚪🐉

Ah, my apologies for misunderstanding! I've kind of been doing that a lot lately >_<"

Also, the terminology varies quite a lot! For example, "core" has quite a loaded meaning in my opinion. The concept of an "original" alter doesn't really exist in DID/OSDD-1 due to the way alters initially form (if you put any stock into the Theory of Structural Dissociation, anyways. That's a whole other can of worms I won't get into unless someone asks though 💀).

However! DID/OSDD-1 certainly aren't the only plural experience, and I think in your case with most likely being willogenic, it's totally ok to call yourself that. I mean, it'd be fine to call yourself that regardless, but you hopefully know what I mean.

Agh, sorry for rambling! Back to the first topic:

Thank you for sharing your experiences with us!! We think it's super cool to see how other multiples perceive the world, and what they think about their life/lives.

I see you mentioned stress being a contributing factor though... have you considered traumagenic or stressgenic? Both are worth looking into if you haven't considered it. Even if you come out on the other end deciding you aren't either of those, I think experimenting with labels is healthy and facilitates self exploration. There's also mixed origins, which is what we are! You're not limited to just one option!

But, again, this is just my dumbass opinion, and all I am is about 100 dudes in a trenchcoat. (/lh)

Sorry this was all over the place, it's 2:00 in the morning here, but this is the first chance I've had to sit down and sift through my inbox without interruption.

Thanks for understanding! I wish you luck!

🖤💜💙💚💛