#a minor spiral about this

[bleachbleachbleach]

Bleach is great because when you tell people (through both oral and written communication) to include their slides in the slide deck, and that they should be able to copy/paste them directly in from either Google Slides or PPT—or, if they prefer, they can compose them directly in the group slides—and you still get multiple people emailing you with PDFs… of their slides… instead of thinking “I cannot fathom a reason on earth why you’d think this was the best way to do this” you can think

“Which shinigami definitely do it like this”

[bunnieswithknives]

Gore, Violence and Blood under the cut

What a mess

[iamtired10]

How do all 5 newjeans members also hyein fucks you

OUR FANDOM IS SO COOKED!

it's honestly getting worse every day and im just over it. like seriously how hard is it to have some common decency? i mean okay, if someone wants to request smut or anything like that, sure that's on them (though even then, people should respect boundaries) but asking for stuff about hyein? I MEAN EXCUSE ME!?

she's literally 16 fucking-years-old!

how are people even thinking that’s okay? like what? i see her as a little sister and that’s just so disturbing.

and let me tell you, ive seen worse.

some of these anons are just next level gross.

i genuinely hope they’re trolling because what was requested?

it’s not just uncomfortable—it’s SICK.

and it makes me lose faith in people seriously. there’s a line and some of y’all have just jumped over it without a second thought.

we really need to do better guys

good night (now i can't even sleep all night, tysm for that)

[blanketforcas]

who else would show off the speakers in his new car??? who else wanted to start a band???

[pwurrz]

quincy’s like. the perfect partner to have if you’re nervous about sex tbh. the most patient, understanding and gentle person to have around when you’re on the verge of having an intimacy related panic attack

[wrestletotheground]

Badly Need to cockwarm him and hug his waist while he's busy producing songs

OH MY GOD PLSSSS all I need in life 🧎‍♀️

climbing onto his lap while he's at his desk working at night and you're both tired and needy and just wanna be close to each other so he lets you cockwarm him, lying into him with your arms around his neck as he keeps tapping away at his computer. eventually it gets too much and he's literally dizzy with the urge to feel you moving around him and can't control himself so he gives up on working for the rest of the night and you end up riding him right there on the chair <3 it's slow and lazy and hot and afterwards you nearly end up falling asleep on him but he insists on getting you cleaned up and changed and into bed bc aftercare king <33

[notbecauseofvictories]

paige and hayward are having SO many crises both together and separately. hayward has 191493041 different things he deliberately refuses to think about or deal with at a given moment. paige is quickly alienating everyone who isn't dan (she wouldn't mind, but dan doesn't listen to her enough to be alienated) and hungover most of the time. she speaks mostly in poetry, especially when she's not paying attention; hayward goes silent and twitchy sometimes, washes his hands with water they can't spare until his cuticles bleed. items have been thrown. they are the only ones they can really trust. sometimes paige can't even look at him. I bet the sex is great and everyone involved categorically refuses to talk about it.

[dragonwysper]

Can. Can we talk about how fucking damaging internet trauma is, and how nobody fucking talks about it?

[thegreatyin]

Does. Does the Scoundrel know that the masters are all Runts. Is she aware that these idealized idols are outcasts among space bats?

factually? yeah, she probably knows. there's no reason why she wouldn't.

but she, well. she doesn't think about it. she can't let herself think about it.

[phoenixcatch7]

The thing I like about my writing is that I never write a story the same way twice. Everything I write demands a different flow.

For example, of the two stories I'm writing now, one wanted present tense (which I am, it turns out, terrible at) and lots of Internet slang/grammar, and the other one decided it had to be made of very short snippets, with one or two longer scenes forming naturally and lots of run on sentences. Both of them I originally tried in my 'more typical' style and both times it failed miserably to click until I scrapped it entirely and restarted.

Ironically enough, the present tense one I'd been intending to write in more episodic bursts, and the snippets one is the start of a long and twisting story delving into deeper themes than I ever have before. But that's the way they wanted to be written! It's more thinking on my behalf than I might have wanted (I am truly fighting my instinct for past tense), but in return I'm finding a rhythm and pattern that's working so well!

I guess the morale of the story is that if you've just started a story or art piece or whatever but it's just not working out, try approaching it from an unusual angle, something you haven't tried before. Something about it isn't clicking, so try a new method entirely!

But most importantly, have a folder somewhere you can move all the little bits and pieces you made but had to take out. It's old advice, but the problem is usually further back than you think. Doesn't mean you have to lose your progress.

[oozeandgoo-art]

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

woke up in the middle of the night with this weird sensation like my legs had lost circulation and then regained it — that weird cold feeling, yknow? and then spent 20 minutes lying awake wondering if I was actually feeling slight prickles in the skin of the tops of my feet or if I was imagining it because I was half asleep and am a known psychosomatic symptom haver, and now I might be/probably am feeling those prickles again in my feet and legs and hands and it's really scaring me

[cripplingoptimism]

Day 3

TAKE 2 TABLETS EVERY NIGHT AT BEDTIME

[thestarlightbrigade]

I think i wanna participate in the ball this year but im having doubts.

[la-principessa-nuova]

sometimes i think things like “what if florida tried a new kind of secession called sinking into the sea”

or “maybe texas should be an independent country”

just to get rid of their electoral votes

but then i remember my queer and disabled friends in those states

[jessicas-pi]

Some people kill their darlings. Me, personally? I mortify my blorbos. sounds like a very interesting fic that would probably vaporize me with secondhand embarrassment easily, so im very curious about it

YEEEHAAA

Okay okay so this scene, which I have temporarily dubbed In Which Tristan Steals Half A Letter And Mandalorian Sibling Rivalries Get A Little Violent, is from the very beginning of Paint Bombs, Pixie Cuts, And Elopement, and it is only the first of MANY increasingly mortifying situations!!

---

Sabine had been so distracted, she hadn’t realized she was no longer the only person in her library.

Tristan had breezed in, settled down in her abandoned spot on the lounge, and picked up the letter from Ezra.

“Hey! That’s personal!” she snapped, jumping up and snatching it from him.

Her brother looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.

“What does that mean?”

Sabine stomped back over to her desk and sat down, pulling out a second sheet of paper. “It means that it’s my business, not yours.”

“As your older brother, I think it is my business. After all, you’ve been sending a concerning amount of letters to him, and you won’t let anyone else see his replies.”

“Because it’s personal,” she repeated, not bothering to explain that out of the last six letters she’d sent, he only bothered to reply to the last one, and not very nicely, either.

“Which is exactly why we’re all worried.” She hunched her shoulders and focused on writing.

She was a few paragraphs in when he spoke again. “And it looks like I was right to be worried, because this, little sister, is a pretty compromising letter.”

Sabine blinked, bewildered. “Compromising?” She turned around in her seat and let out a furious cry. That letter—it had had two pages, and Tristan must have let her only snatch the first page without her noticing, because he had the second one in his hand now. “Tristan!”

“Oh, yes, very compromising. I quote—” He held up the letter and read aloud. “It was so nice of you to use all those tender words in your last message to me—have you been writing love notes?”

What she had been writing was a horribly rude letter where she called Ezra every name she could think of, and he’d got sarcastic over it in his reply, which Tristan had to know because the next sentence of that letter was a few of those phrases quoted, but he was apparently being a very selective reader now.

So, Sabine didn’t explain, and just stood, clenching her jaw. “Give me that, and get out of my library.”

He just reclined on the lounge, grinning and kicking his feet up. “You know, I’ve had a few… ah… romantic escapades, in my time. I can be trusted with a secret. So confide in me. Exactly what sweet nothings have you been writing to your adoring Prince?”

“Give it to me and get out, Tristan!”

“Should I make some guesses?” Tristan asked, jumping to his feet to avoid the sofa pillow she hurled at him. Sabine followed him, advancing slowly, fists clenched. “I bet he sends you long letters about his earnest and eternal love, and you send him back coquettish garbage acting like you don’t understand anything he says, so he’ll say it to you again.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she snapped, snatching at the sheet of paper that he held away from her.

“Oh, no, it happens all the time. I’ve fallen for it myself. I still have the letters I got from my old sweetheart when I was your age, if you need proof. Or reference materials for the next time you write—I’m sure the little minx wouldn’t mind you borrowing a few of her shameless hints for your own flirtation.”

“It’s not a flirtation!”

“My bad,” Tristan sang, dodging around a chair so it was between the two of them, and moving side to side in time with her to keep it that way. “But in my defense, I had no idea you and he were serious.”

“We’re not!”

“When did you two first get an understanding?”

“We don’t have one!”

“Now that I look back—this all started last summer, when we were in Jedha, didn’t it? He must have been trying to win your heart then, and I can only assume you strung him along for weeks like the sadistic little witch you are, before you gave in.”

She cursed at him, no longer cold from the drafty walls but so warm she felt like she was crawling out of her own skin. She didn’t know if it was from the excitement of finally getting the letter, the heat of the fire, or the flustered burning in her face, and she didn’t really care.

“I may regret asking this,” Tristan said without a trace of regret, whatsoever, at all, in a million years. “But how did ol’ Prince Di’kut manage to woo you? Did he act gallant and noble and play at courting you? Or was this a…” Tristan wiggled his eyebrows and leaned in to whisper, momentarily dropping his guard. “A passionate-midnight-meetings sort of affai—”

Sabine’s fist connected with his nose.