#and because of you i usually just keep most of my criticism to myself because holy shit no one needs more noise

[ettadunham]

i'm kinda heartbroken about the new redthreadgames title becoming one of those clown gamer ragebait targets, because even if it is genuinely bad, there's now no way to find a normal fucking conversation on it on the internet.

anyway, i'm obviously gonna get it during the christmas sale anyway, it just sucks that there's so much bullshit to wade through because gremlins can't be normal about minorities in video games.

[fuzzandfeathers]

This comic takes place during Seeing Stars while Blitz and Stolas are on their way to the studio!

Hope you enjoyed! Mild art ranting below the cut 😂

I had to drag this piece kicking and screaming over the finish line. When I first got the idea and started working on it, I had a very different rendering approach I was experimenting with. I finished the entire comic in that style then immediately decided I hated it 😂 I liked the lines for the most part, but not enough to keep, so in the end I just... redrew the entire thing using the original as a reference (don't do what I do). And still this comic irks me. From a technical perspective I actually like it quite a bit; I'm satisfied with the way I drew Blitz and Stolas, at the very least. But in terms of what the comic evokes(?) I'm not not 100% happy with it (or even 90%). It's like a 'this art doesn't make me feel what I wanted it to make me feel' type of dissatisfaction, which is, unfortunately, kinda tough to resolve. I'm a big believer in embracing your failures (and in moving on when frustration is no longer serving you) so this was getting posted no matter how it turned out and eventually I'd run out of desire to work on it further. But I still wanted to let some of these feelings out because it's been awhile since art made me feel that way! And I think it's nice to let other people see the artist perspective sometimes even when it isn't totally positive. On the bright side, it was fun to experiment with a lot of things in this piece! Also this comic was actually finished weeks ago and I've already moved to a better place with my art. This kind of frustration is usually a precursor to growth anyways, so it's best to just be patient and ride it out 😌 Hope this little rant wasn't too much of a downer! The last thing I want is to take away people's enjoyment of the art by being too critical of myself <3 Here's a little peek at the original style! In retrospect, it actually wasn't that bad, I'm just more a fan of the starker, un-rendered look I eventually went with:

[michellesneptune]

HOW THE MOON SIGNS ACT WHEN THEY LOVE YOU pt. 1

disclaimer: forgive me if the series doesn’t cover all twelve signs, but i don’t think i’ve known enough people to speak about everyone’s way of loving. please be patient🤗

aries moon/1H

ooooh those little devils🔥😈 you can see the mischievous twinkle in their eyes. they’re children of Ares - the god of war! when they speak of their loved ones it feels as though they’re ready to kill for them any minute, only waiting for the right (or any😂) reason.

(just my observation, please don’t come at me) i believe that these natives are prone to being more loyal, less selfish and flaky than aries venus. aries is known to be 'the baby' of the zodiac, valuing independence and self-fulfilment greatly. however, i’ve noticed aries moons to be devoted af!! you will never catch them bad mouthing a friend or a partner.

also, from my experience, both placements like to fight, however aries venus often does it for own enjoyment, the initial chase turns them on. as for aries moons, they’re more steady. they would go to great lengths for friends and partners. you can call them in the middle of the night and ask the craziest favor, they WILL come and help.

(please keep in mind that i mean unevolved aries venuses that still have a lesson or two to learn!)

PS. they love to be treated like the center of your world, please give them attention💕

taurus moon/2H

hmmmm how do i put it… 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍! i will say that i am biased bc my boyfriend is one and the way he’s attentive, always asks about the details of my day, pays attention to my routines and shows love through acts of service🥹 you’ve probably heard the rumours and they’re true. taurus moons make the best cooks ever. and i don’t mean putting together a couple of cheap pancakes, nuh uh. their sharp senses only let them buy the best quality ingredients and cook with great care. bonus points if they prepare a dish that they know is your favourite!

i will say though, they are not the most verbal lovers. but when they’re in, they mean it. when they say they love you, it becomes a fact so obvious that they don’t feel the need to repeat it over and over. they like to settle into a routine, so don’t expect them to be flaky, send mixed signals and stir things up just to feel something/for fun (sag moons cough cough😅😅).

they also seem brutal sometimes. but i believe it’s because they see honesty as the highest form of trust. they want to feel comfortable with you. they value silence, too. they’re the type to show you their appreciation not by telling you how perfect you are but by actually putting in the work to show you your value and show that they’re worthy of being by your side.

lastly, their homes are their sanctuaries, a reflection of their feelings. usually beautiful and they look for someone worthy of letting in, to match their belongings. they get a rep for being possessive and stubborn, nevertheless with the right person they can make a sacrifice and at least try to change their ways😂😂

virgo moon/6H

okay so i know they’re said to be critical, demanding, neurotic etc but hear me out. virgo is a mutable sign, ruled by mercury and in true mutable fashion they DO get wild, fun and unhinged lol. as a virgo moon myself i am well aware of the fact that i often act like i’ve got a stick up my ass. but when i get closer to you i want it all: karaoke nights, fast car rides, spontaneous trips! sometimes i even take those things to the extreme!

they’re also said to have the highest standards. and while i imagine it’s partly true, i believe that this placement is all about accepting the biggest, weirdest quirks of your s/o (as well as 6th house synastry!).

besides, i think that we get more so insecure and self-critical in relationships, analyzing the f outta our partners, wondering whether we’re meeting their demands! we’re about the overall quality of the partnership and just want it to be perfect🥺 we’re also quite anxious and require lots of reassurance.

lastly, everyone knows it: virgo moons are like the final boss of small acts of service lol. vacuuming your flat, folding your clothes. they notice the smallest things that could improve your life and happily do them for you!

capricorn moon/10H

this one is tricky. they remind me a bit of taurus but more rough in a sense that they probably won’t pamper you with luxurious baths and gourmet food but they will do things like pay your rent, get you a job or buy a car😂. i’ve noticed them to be a bit grumpy sometimes, definitely not the softest lovers.

they’re up to giving some tough love. pushing you into a scary path that they know will be rewarding in the end. teaching you that even in the hardest lessons of saturn there is light. they’re not the most cheerful on a daily basis but - surprisingly- they are the ones that keep calm in the face of crises. they’re like okay we can’t do anything about it now let’s appreciate what we do have and focus on what we can change.

it’s because they know all to well how karma is. they had to learn it the hard way which made them so strong and resilient.

what i’ve personally noticed: they will stick by your side no. matter. what. this isn’t always a good thing as sometimes it’s best to walk away but if you’re expecting a cap moon to give up on you, don’t.

i also feel like they’re used to being the oldest sibling, the mom friend etc. please take care of them from time to time!

that is all i have for you! thank you for reading💕 i wish all of you lots and lots of love💋 see ya

~Michelle

[daisyvisions]

Not Like the Rest - (j.cm)

➺ Pairing - fuckboy!Changmin x fem!reader

➺ Summary - For you, friends with benefits should never drag out this long. Use each other til one of you wants to call it quits. So why was Changmin still hanging around?

➺ Word Count - 1.2K

➺ Warnings - Smut (18+, minors DNI), friends with benefits, mixed feelings, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, overstimulation (?), aftercare, riding, slight angst (ish? idk), fluff, mentions of bad past relationships, hookups, etc., pet name (babe), let me know if I missed anything!

➺ Author’s note - yippie another one (even if I wanted this to be longer huhu 🥲) but it's been in the drafts long enough, finally letting this one out in the wild. this is my very late bday gift for Changmin's bday, story was originally an ask I had for a different fandom but decided why not write it myself? Proofread once, enjoy!

➺ Taglist: @deoboyznet @winterchimez @snowflakewhispers

Thinking about fuckboy!Changmin, who you’ve been hooking up with for the past couple of months.

To be honest, this was probably one of the longest and most steady friends with benefits agreement you’ve ever had in your life. Usually the others would drop you after the first month or so and ghost you. But not Changmin.

At first you thought he would be like the rest. Just a one time fuck or whatever the hell these guys go for, especially given his track record and all (or so you've heard through the grapevine). You’re used to it by know you think and maybe you should stop this vicious cycle.

But old habits die hard, especially when you’ve had a string of bad relationships that it made you too afraid of commitment. Too afraid of getting your heart broken time and time again.

That’s why you resorted into flings. At least if ever it ends, you’re not so attached right? Well that’s what you try to tell yourself so it hurts a little less.

But that’s why with Changmin, for some reason being with him leaves you with all these mixed feelings. Oh god especially when he does things that make your heart beat fast and the butterflies raging in your stomach?

Or how he makes that rope within your abdomen tighten each time? Like how he is right now as he grips your hips, helping you bounce on his length as you try to reach your high.

It almost seemed too good to be true, that’s why by the third month that past of whatever you wanna call this continued, you did your best to please him almost all the time both in and outside of the bedroom. You wanted to hold onto this one as long as you can, even if there have been moments where it made you tired, especially physically as you continue to bounce on him.

Riding wasn’t really your forte when it comes to sex positions. Though you enjoyed it a lot, it’s just that your knees and leg muscles would eventually give in. But of course you wouldn’t tell Changmin even if it made you drained out. You were worried you might turn him off because in past relationships you would get criticized for it (because they expected you to do all the work).

So as you try your best to ignore the growing ache in your knees and the burn in your thighs, Changmin could tell something was off. It wasn’t your movements slowing down or when you would try to pause in between but with the way you knitted your eyebrows together (and not the kind that’s done because of pleasure).

“Babe, you okay?” He huffs out as his hands continue to guide your hips up and down his throbbing member.

“I-it’s nothing.” You breathe out, trying not to feel the pain in your muscles. You suddenly yelp both out of surprise and pleasure as Changmin suddenly pushes your hips down and halts your movements, his entire cock sheathed inside you as the tip kisses that sweet spot deep within.

“Why’d you stop me?” You whine.

“We need to talk about something-” Changmin says with a serious tone. Was he finally going to break things off with you?

“About what?” You try to keep your composure, not letting your emotions get the best of you.

“You have this face every time you’re on top.” Changmin gets straight to the point. “What’s wrong?”

Oh… so your discomfort does show.

Out of embarrassment, you lean forward and quickly hide your face at the crook of his neck.

“Hey- you can tell me it’s alright.” The warmth of his hand caresses the back of your head.

“Please don’t make fun-” Your voice starts to quiver ever so slightly. “It’s not that I don’t like being on on top it’s more of…” You life your head to face him, you cheeks growing warm from feeling flustered.

“I get very tired from it easily. My legs are- they’re kind of weak. I’m- I’m sorry…”

At first, there’s an awkward silence that fills the room. Changmin’s eyes trying to search something within yours before his chuckle breaks the tension.

God, is he seriously laughing? He’s the first guy to ever laugh at you for this. You should've just kept your mouth shut. Now he thinks you’re a-

“Well why didn’t you say so babe? Hold on.”

“Huh? Oh!” You squeal as his arms wrap around your waist, plants his feet on the mattress and thrusts himself into you like a jack rabbit. As the sounds of skin slapping against one another progresses, you can’t help but let out a string of erotic moans as you bury your face into his neck once more (God how he wishes he could play your sounds on loop forever).

The pleasure was starting to overwhelm you that your vision starts to blur from the tears forming in your eyes. You’ve never been fucked like this before. You practically feel him everywhere. You don’t even realize you’ve already reached your high and now you’re squirting all over him, your cunt gripping his length like there’s no tomorrow.

You reach your second wave of high much faster than you anticipated, igniting something very primal within Changmin to just keep on thrusting up into you. His arms tighten around you suddenly as his release suddenly bursts within your walls, coating them in his hot load.

You suddenly have no energy to move after all that, so Changmin helps you lift your hips, releasing a pool of your mixed essences as lay on his chest for a moment.

For some reason after being honest with Changmin about how you were feeling, it was like you were seeing a totally new side of him. He was usually the type to give aftercare but something seemed different tonight, you just couldn't place your finger on it.

He made sure to prepare a warm bath, help you lather your hair, and made sure you were settled in before holding you in his arms, leaving you a warm goodnight kiss before he went to sleep.

You stayed up for a moment, replaying everything that has happened between you and Changmin from the moment you met. This was very different from your usual hookups, and it made you feel a lot of mixed emotions.

While he made you feel all these exciting things, you couldn’t help but feel scared about how this will turn out in the end. Maybe these are the early signs of him ending things? Will this be one of the final moments you'll ever have with him before you become strangers again?

You mentally shook the thoughts out of your head and decided to focus on what was right here in this moment, snuggling closer into his chest as you slowly drift into sleep.

But little did you know that Changmin’s feelings for you were already reciprocated, ever since you two met. It was only a matter of time til he took you out on a proper date and finally asked you to be his girlfriend.

[mangotangerine]

what if ozzie created hell's version of ao3 and then radiostatic became one of the most popular ships but alastor didn't find out because ew, technology, until one day he did, but the top 69 fics are written by the same person & have incredibly realistic aspects that only one other person in hell would know

well, i wrote it. see below the cut for what i have so far

vox writes fanfic (and his username is alastors_babygirl)

Alastor goes nearly a century without acquiring any of those ridiculous, overdesigned electronic devices that the rest of Hell rots their brain with.

×

Things have been odd as of late. Angel Dust has been giving him strange looks—not the usual objectifying leer meant to evoke discomfort, but something more inquisitive—and Niffty has taken to giggling every time he walks past that tacky television they keep in the lounge. It hadn’t bothered him at first, as Angel Dust has always been a strange fellow, and Niffty is… well, Alastor isn’t sure if even she understands her own whimsy, sometimes.

But now, it’s getting a bit out of hand.

“Niffty, my dear,” Alastor says, “I have a question for you.”

She giggles, likely because he is standing next to the television. She manages to get it under control, though he can still hear the laughter in her voice as she says, “Yes?”

He glances pointedly at the television, then back at Niffty, and her grin widens. She kicks her feet and covers her mouth to hold back the giggles that threaten to erupt, and Alastor sighs. He is not going to get satisfying answers from her. “Never mind,” he says, weary. “Perhaps Charlie knows.”

×

Charlie blushes a bright red and flips her phone face-down in a panic, when he finally asks her in her office.

“Um—um, well…” she trails off, body language broadcasting her discomfort.

“This is getting tiring,” Alastor says, letting irritation bleed into his voice. “Despite my confidence that it is not the case, because who would be so foolish, I feel as though I’m being mocked. It is quite unpleasant.”

“No! No no no!” she squeaks. “No, it’s not that, it’s just…” she takes a deep breath. “The fan fiction.”

“The what now?” Alastor asks, eyebrows furrowing.

She bites her lip, glancing down at her phone. “Asmodeus um… launched this new website,” she starts, and Alastor wrinkles his nose in disgust. Ugh, not this nonsense again. “And, well… people write stories on it about... about media or things they’re fans of. Like—like use the characters and setting, and… andyou’rethemostpopularship,” she says in a rush.

Alastor looks down at himself, and then back up at Charlie. “I didn’t take you for the type to be critical of somebody’s figure, regardless of the inaccuracy of your statement,” he says, clearly disappointed, and Charlie gasps.

“No! Ship—ship, like relationship! Not—I would never.” She’s offended now, frowning at him. “Why would you think I’d—”

“Please, Charlie,” Alastor says sharply, “Explain to me in plain language.”

She bites her lip, then shrinks a little in her seat. “Sometimes people… um, write stories about people, who they think would be good in a relationship… like romance stories.”

“What does this have to do with anything?” Alastor snaps.

“You’re the top—you’re the um, most popular, uh, ship. Relationship. Well, not just you, it takes two—anyway.” She stops, and smiles at him nervously.

“Who is the second party in this ‘relationship’ involving myself?” he asks, eyes narrowed.

When she tells him, he very politely demands to be shown this website, and she meekly flips her phone over and slides it toward him. He looks through it, smile fading slowly until it’s just a barely-there quirk of the lips. “Who?” he asks, unable to hide the venom in his voice. “Who is writing these?”

“Many—many people, Alastor. It’s—there’s—I, I mean, you see how many stories!” she squeaks.

“Do you read the ones where I’m involved with your father?” he asks, suspicious, as he points at the device. She gasps.

“No!” Charlie practically yells. “No, I do—I do not read sex stories about my—”

“Sex stories?” Alastor asks, voice thick with radio distortion, and she covers her mouth in horror at her own mistake.

“I—I mean, not all of them are—I mean, there are a ton that are just—and not just with my dad, but with—you know, him, and they’re—they’re so sweet, Alastor!”

The exhaustion is settling in his bones now, his ever-present smile twisted into a sardonic grimace. “I fail to understand how there can be any stories involving me and that—that walking billboard that are sweet.”

“Well, um…” she hesitates, nervous. “You could… you could read some?”

“I will most certainly not be doing that,” he says. “I will be going now. I appreciate your transparency, as painful as the information was to extract from you.”

Alastor leaves with his signature flourish, melting into the shadows.

×

He goes a week before he folds, though he has one of those egg creatures Sir Pentious left behind procure an electronic device for him instead of trying to find one himself. He then commands it to demonstrate how to navigate to that vapid archive of obscenities everyone seems so enraptured by.

Though there are a lot of these creepy little stories, and just as many writers, the most popular of these ‘fan fiction’ novellas are all written under the same pen name and have very specific personal details that only one other person in Hell would know.

Well, he supposes it has been quite a while since he’s gone to terrorize that tower in person. Why, he’s been positively angelic since his return to the public sphere. It’s time to pay his old friend a visit.

×

He could go in the front door, cause a scene, really ham it up for Vox’s pervasive cameras, but that’s too easy. Too predictable, and what sort of performer would he be if he didn’t improvise and change things up a bit?

Alastor materializes in Vox’s office, behind his chair. He is, unfortunately, not alone, as Alastor had hoped. Startled, Velvette screams, and Alastor turns to blink at her owlishly.

“Was that really necessary?” he asks.

Vox spins around in his chair so fast it keeps spinning, makes 3 revolutions before Vox manages to stop it. Alastor looks Vox up and down, nose wrinkled in distaste.

“I just greased it!” Vox says defensively. “It doesn’t do that all the time, I can—I can control my chair!”

“Why is he here?” Velvette hisses, and Vox points menacingly at Alastor.

“Yeah! Why is he—why are you here?”

Alastor inhales deeply, and lets out a slow, disappointed sigh. “We need to talk.”

“Get out of my fucking tower,” Vox snaps.

“I’d love to,” Alastor says, “as soon as you answer some questions about the creepy little love stories you’ve been writing online.”

Vox blanches, as much as a television screen can blanch—that is, his face turns greyscale, reminding Alastor very distinctly of the picture shows his mother used to take him to as a child. It’s very amusing, on Vox.

“Velvette, get out,” Vox orders, voice sharp. The color slowly bleeds back into his face, one pixel at a time.

Velvette gets up, looking like she’s about to argue, when Alastor turns to face her directly, twirling his microphone in hand as his smile grows.

“Fine, fuck you,” she spits, and makes her way out.

Then it���s just Alastor and Vox. Vox and Alastor. Two old friends. Two old buddies. Pals. Former pals. Ex-partners.

“I can explain,” Vox says, panicked.

“Oh,” Alastor says, sounding delighted. “You’re admitting to it so easily? Usually you’re more difficult than that.”

“Fuck,” Vox groans.

[mockerycrow]

REWRITTEN: Undercover I (Soap x GN!Reader)

undercover masterlist | next (original)

summary; you’re apart of an undercover joint task force between the CIA and MI6, meant to infiltrate Makarov’s ranks. Your mission is thrown out the window when Makarov finds you out, and the 141 takes you in for interrogation after finding you half dead.

A/N: THIS IS REWRITTEN! I’m rewriting it all, major plot points aren’t really changing but I kept rereading my work and I hated it. please enjoy new and improved undercover. 3k words.

[warnings; gore, description of injuries, descriptions of torture, near death experience(s), waterboarding, medical and military inaccuracies. watch out for pov switches.]

Everything fell apart due to the intense lack of communication; something anyone could’ve seen coming from a thousand miles away. Information staying classified, secret—it was a death sentence the second more eyes landed on Him. Maybe the death sentence was written into existence the moment I breathed in the air in that conference room where my teammates sat. We’re the guys they call for the dirtiest work they need to get done; it isn’t something I’m proud of, of course.. Not when your death has been faked numerous times, stitching together new stories and burying your old ones. To an extent, I wish it wasn’t like this, living in a world where this type of work is necessary, but humans are inherently violent and animalistic. 

Someone would’ve started this cycle eventually. 

You curate a mask to wear so perfect you find yourself believing your own lie. The shit you make up sticks with you, too. The stuff you end up doing as a result never leaves, either. Imagine making up an entirely new life and living it for years only for a tiny slip up to break the new reality you’ve been living. Having to break genuine bonds, having to disappear on people you knew you were using, but sometimes cared about? It hurts more than I like to acknowledge. You get used to the guilt in your gut and the blood coating your hands, the red puddling at your feet. Sometimes, you can’t tell whose it is. Yours? Theirs? The innocent kid who got too involved? It all feels the same at the end of the day.

Most people lose themselves in their lies like I said, but not me. I know exactly who I am.

One one hand, I’m Zhenya Antonenko; one of Makarov’s most trusted right hands. Zhenya, a big brother with an unstable past and a bloody trail following me.

On the other hand, I’m myself. Just me, myself, and I.

I only have myself, except for my Captain, the only person I’ve properly trusted for a couple of years now; can you blame me when you’ve lost so many people to the mission? Whether from discovery leading to death, or legitimately believing the lies you’ve been spewing to yourself? Nobody understands having to gun a person down you started out with just to keep yourself safe; keeping the operation safe.. Because the mission comes first. 

“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful who we pretend to be.”

“..status?” “...alive…..”

Searing pain—deep aching pain. Rough, calloused, careless hands—

“...one of his—...” Fuck. That accent; it’s not Russian. Not Slavic at all in general.

It’s Scottish. What the fuck? Did I fuck up?

You’re in terrible shape; critical condition. Soap wishes he didn’t have to untie you and tend to your wounds; you’re one of his. You deserve the slow, painful death your injuries would bring onto you. 

His gloved fingers wedge themselves into the knots of the rope tied around your wrists. It’s a little slippery; the rope is stained with your blood, either from your wrists due to struggling or any of your pre-existing injuries. You’re alive, barely—but they have to act fast if they wanna keep you alive. Your skin is visibly.. Off; lacking its usual color, maybe. You’re shivering in the chair, your clothes soaked in freezing water, mixing with the blood already embedded into the fabric. Price is untying the ropes around your ankles. 

“Alright,” Price gruffs out, his voice low and rough. “Grab ‘em. Off to the truck.”

Soap hooks his arms under your armpits as Price grabs your limp legs, both men grunting quietly as they lift you. They shuffle together in tandem, working their way to the truck in the back of the warehouse. The truck is running as Gaz opens the backdoor for Soap and Price to shove you in there. Soap steps up onto the truck and sits in the backseat, dragging your body inside with him. He takes the opportunity to assess your wounds in a surface level manner first. Soap almost grimaces—almost.

Your lips are parted ever so slightly, the skin chapped and a light layer of dried blood on them, dried so much that it would flake off if you tried to rub them together. The blood is likely from you biting your tongue, or the fact that your top lip on the right side is split open so badly you need stitches, or perhaps from the fact that your nose is broken. The structure of your nose is noticeably out of place and there is blood trailing down your lips and chin, thick and dried droplets down the front of your already ruined shirt. The left side of your jaw, near the hinge—swollen and out of place. Torn, maybe? Broken? Fractured? All possibilities. Your left eye is swollen shut, your left eyebrow split open, too. Like you got your face smashed, but they somehow managed to mostly hit your left side over and over. 

“Wonder what the bastard had to do to earn all that.” Soap mutters, his voice low with a slight bite to his tone. He leaves you untied; if you woke up, he’s sure you’d immediately slip into shock. You’re not a threat, not in the state you’re in. Soap watches you struggle to breathe; labored and uneven. It almost is similar to agonal breathing, something the body does in a desperate attempt for a proper source of oxygen. Maybe some of your ribs are broken. His eye’s trail your abdomen—the red seems to spread, dribbling onto the seats below your body, slicking his skin. Soap tugs up your shirt, and he swears under his breath from the gaping wounds in your belly, his hands reaching down to apply pressure.

Price is about to comment, catching sight of the stab wounds when Ghost exits the warehouse with a couple of documents—a laptop, a thumb drive. All items that were left behind. “Seems like they didn’t see us comin’.” Ghost utters, his voice rough as he stuffs the items into a backpack left in the bed of the truck. “Makarov was here.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed; your struggle to breathe breaking the silence. You gasp, almost like a gurgle, reminding them of their finds; documents, technology, and you.

…Am I dead?

Is this Hell? Did Makarov finally end me? ..It’s funny, really. I thought I would’ve died from—

Oh, welcome back.

I feel heavy as I suddenly come to, like I’ve been drugged. My tongue is dry and heavy in my mouth and it almost feels too big. Tastes like metal.. Blood. I barely manage to lick my lips which I immediately regret, my cotton like tongue swiping over the split in my lip, lighting up my nerves—however, I don’t have the energy to properly react to the tingling pain. My head feels… full, like there’s pressure. My thoughts are.. Fuzzy, almost. As if there’s something in my skull, blocking them. My ears are ringing, and fuck, it feels like someone is bashing the inside of my head with a metal baseball bat. Ironic.

I feel so incredibly heavy, my limbs comparable to anvils. The fucking pain crawls up my back and into my nerves as I wriggle my fingers, fuck, fuck! Fuck, fuck fuck fu—

“They’re awake.” Utters a gritty, low voice, borderline baritone; British. I manage to open my right eye as my left.. Is seemingly swollen shut, but I regret it from the corneal pain as I close my eye again, the luminescent light above us burning deep into my eye.

A gloved hand roughly grabs my jaw, which fucking hurts. Something is seriously wrong with my jaw, the ache is fucking terrible feels bone deep. I look up, a looming figure over me. My eye refuses to focus for a moment, but I can tell the guy is wearing a mask, a vest—a rifle. I blink languidly and—oh. In front of me, stands a large man; broad shoulders, stocky. A wide chest, and a pair of eyes that make me wanna curl in on myself. He’s staring down at me as if I’m Makarov himself. Big and brown, empty…

I can tell that he is not a man Makarov has worked with before. Who is he?

I shakily inhale and I shut my eye as his fingers dig into my jaw, causing me more pain and nausea bubbling up from it. Fuck. 

“Zhenya Antonenko.” His voice is full of venom, deep and gritty. He’s mocking me—he’s British. I hiss softly as he finally lets go of my jaw, and he holds up my I.D., my fake I.D.. I look at the man in front of me, who is wearing some sort of skull balaclava mask thing. I wanna stay in character, spit or curse or something, but the pain in my mouth is enough to keep me silent as well as the exhaustion. My head tilts forward, my neck incredibly sore and aching. His fingers push under my chin, bringing my head back up. “You’ve worked for Makarov for years, yeah? Makes me wonder what you did to make the man leave you behind.. Bloody and beaten, no doubt.”

I don’t respond—of course I don’t, there’s no reason for me to. I gotta keep up my mask, y’know? It fucking sucks, having to keep the act up, but I don’t know what could happen to the operation if I let it slip. Ugh.. maybe I fucked it all up anyway, considering Makarov found me out. The guy in front of me looks like he wants to tear me apart, limb from limb. Huh. I survived Makarov’s torture.. I’m sure I can survive his.

I want to throw up, despite not having anything in my stomach. My head is reeling and fuck, I just.. I’m aching so badly. Every sensation is blending together. 

My head whips to the side with a blooming, stinging sensation against my cheek—He slapped me. “Pay attention.” The man hisses—Skull-face, I deem him in the moment. I blink and I turn my head to face Skull-face as he walks over to a tray nearby, his boots heavy against the ground. The door behind him opens, my eyes flickering over to it and three more men walk in. Shit.

The first man I see is young, tall; he has dark skin and even darker eyes; brown, I think. There’s a small atrophic scar under his eye. His shoulders are wide but nearly as bulky as Skull-face’s; he’s definitely well built. I watch him cross his arms across his chest. My gaze flickers to the next man that catches my eye—he’s also tall and built, maybe a bit beefy. He’s pale with brunette hair and… mutton chops? Odd choice.. But alright.. Mutton-chops is leaning against the wall of whatever this room is. His eyes are trained on me like a cat who is hunting. It makes me shudder a little bit. The last guy I see; a bit shorter than the others, but he isn’t lacking any muscle. Thick forearms, for sure. He’s pale, brown hair and blue eyes, mohawk. Pfft, mohawk.. Who has a mohawk these days?

I flinch as Skull-face pats my jaw to get me to pay attention, making me hiss as he purposely chooses the bad side. God, it has to be swollen by this point. 

I can barely think.. Jesus. 

“I’m only repeatin’ myself once, y’hear? You’ll know what Hell truly feels like, you only got a taste with Makarov.” Skull-face threatens. I swallow harshly; I can’t afford another beating, or whatever this fucker has planned in case I don’t follow the rules. I already feel so light headed and dizzy. Hesitantly. I nod as a response instead of using words. “Why don’t y’tell us what Makarov was doin’ in that warehouse, hm?” He utters, glancing over to a tray and picking up a few papers—the text that I can make out, they look vaguely familiar. Must’ve been documents they grabbed from the warehouse. I wheeze a little, wincing, my chest spasming. Fuck.

He waits for a response. I swallow again, my eye fluttering as I utter out, “I took an oath.” Weakly. I feel a bead of sweat drop down from my temple, down the side of my face. I’m sweating from pain, that deep ache in my ribs, in my jaw—everywhere, honestly. I don’t know what doesn’t hurt by this point. “An oath.” Skull-face murmurs, almost as if he’s amused but I hear no humor in his tone. He walks closer towards me as he sifts through the documents in his gloved hands. “An oath for a terrorist.”

I see the way his eye twitches when he looks at me; to be fair, all I can see is his eyes but folks say the eyes are the road to the soul, right? And what his eyes are telling me right now is that he’s holding himself back from wrecking my shit further. I glance away for a moment, but he shoves the documents in front of my face, all typed up in Russian. “Y’know what this is?” 

My eyes scan the paper, recognizing it—”It’s Makarov’s plans, his plans on how he will slaughter entire cities with the biological weapons he’s trying to get his bloody hands on.” Skull-face gruffs out. His throat is tight, I can tell he’s furious. 

I know what the plan is—I’ve read those exact papers several times myself. I’m more shocked by the fact that they know that he was searching to get his hands on weapons like that in the first place. My head buzzes as I shift my eyes to Skull-face, who is staring at me as if he’s expecting an answer out of me.

I swear to God my vision whites out when he lifts my fucking shirt and opens the shitty stitches across my stomach—

Hot liquid spills from my belly and immediately soaks the spandex of the waist band to my pants, choking and wheezy noises leave my throat as I reel from the fucking pain. God, the pain.. My eyesight blurs back into colors, but no focus yet. I gasp quietly, trying to get a hold on my pain. However, Skull-face doesn’t give me a chance as he viciously grabs my jaw again, squeezing so harshly my lips part and my jaw feels like it’s being ripped out of its hinges. “My deal is simple. Fill in the obviously missin’ gaps, an’ we’ll let the medics work on ya.”

I try to get a steady breathing pace again, breathing through the pain. I close my eye, my throat bobbing as I swallow. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Someone grunts and walks towards me—more like stomps towards me, so I naturally open my unswollen eye only to see Mohawk seething in front of me. “Y’dont seem to understand the situation yer in. Do you understand that you fell for a trap?”

Mohawk grabs the front of my soaked shirt—tears, blood, water and whatever else—as he barks in front of my face. I struggle to focus on his face—rugged and young, sporting some light stubble with an atrophic scar across his chin. His jaw is strong and so is his nose. His eyes—blue and fierce. 

He wants to kill me. I can tell. I don’t blame him.

I wince as he tugs on the front of my shirt, peeling it from the open wound on my stomach. I feel sick. “Makarov does not care for you!” Tell me something I don’t know..

I’ve known that since the beginning. He doesn’t care for anyone, not really. We were always just pawns to him. Everyone is.

I must’ve spaced out again because I snap back to reality when something squeaky is rolled into the room. I lift my head—oh fuck. Mutton-chops has a big bowl of water on a cart, wheeling it closer. “I told ya, I wouldn’t repeat myself.” Skull-face gruffs out and my heart drops to my fucking stomach, my eyes widening. Someone must’ve noticed the change in me because I hear someone laugh. My leg kicks out instinctively when the cart is rolled closer—That one guy, the basic dude, scar on his cheek, his hands shoot out and hold down my leg. 

I barely get enough time to react before a hand is grabbing a chunk of my hair and forcing my face into the water. I struggle against my binds, against the hands on me, against the fucking bowl of water that’s against my face. I fight and fight, my wrists screaming for relief as I give myself rope burn because I’m fucking drowning, I’m fucking drowning, I’m gonna die and it’s all going to be for nothing—

My head is ripped out of water, making me gasp and choke, spitting out water that I inhaled. The dread from the feeling of drowning remains as I sputter and wheeze, the water running down my face and neck, soaking the neckline of my already damp shirt. 

Fuck, I’m gonna die. I’m gonna fucking die.

I keep gasping for air, trying to level out my breathing. I feel exhausted, all of the fight in my soul having already left my body. My limbs feel heavy, like there’s weights tied to them like before. My vision is blurry as I lift my head, looking at the three men in front of me. I have to bite back an angry laugh because I know they’re just going to stand there and watch me die. Maybe they’ll resuscitate me like Makarov did—just to remind me how much power they have over me right now. 

Makarov.. He held me under the ice cold water until I passed out. I don’t know what happened after that, I don’t know how long he left me like that or if he left me like that at all. All I remember is being on my back on the cold concrete below me, my hands remaining tied behind my back as I sputtered water out of my throat and nearly inhaling it back in.

He did it more than once to me. I don’t know how many times. Maybe it’s the brain damage making me forget. 

Fuck. I don’t know. I just don’t fucking know.

My head falls forward as my vision is filled with black dots, and then—I’m out, water dripping off of my chin and face, my pants wet with my blood from my stomach.

🏷️; @hardnutpost @glitterypirateduck @elowynnlane @boycigs @wolfyland07 @escapefromrealitysm @tapioca-marzipan @cj-theyoungling @fullmoon-94 @gothgirl6-6-6 @thriving-n-jiving @paniniii @calloumii @the-spartan-himself @bi-witch-bxtch @dammn-dean @jinxxangel13 @meimhem @hannathetrololol-blog @kool-aidd @aliendous @roarndoodles @supernaturalstilinski @blob-11 @cumbermovels @jisungfanpage @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @p3achfairy @darling006 @nyushkawritesstuff @pepsicolacoochie

no longer wish to be tagged? let me know.

[celestial-sphere-press]

what kind/style of endbands do you usually do? they look so good 👀

hi!! sorry for taking a while to answer, I wanted to make sure I could give you my best answer.

I usually do what's called a "double core" endband. I use double core endbands over the "bead on front" method because bead on front style is not great for uneven distributions of color, irregular patterns, or using more than three colors. Functionally it works by having your extra threads wrapped up inside the thread that is showing, forming the smaller secondary core. Ultimately you are doing figure 8s around the main core & then your secondary core of thread. This keeps things pretty neat & tidy. The tutorial I first used was this one by DAS Bookbinding, though I don't think his endband tutorials are his best ones. Another binder I've spoken with endbands about a lot is maleeka, who recently did an endband tutorial herself.

maybe I should do one... but it takes a lot for me to get enough motivation to make videos. I'll take this opportunity to write up some tips I've shared when people ask instead:

1. Endband core material is the MOST IMPORTANT component. You need a core that is stiff but flexible - it should NOT be floppy because it wiggles everywhere under the tension of the thread, but still needs to flex with the opening & closing of the book. You want something that doesn't compress, to reduce tension shifts in thread creating a lumpy endband. Have a smooth core is less critical but helps to avoid snagging threads & allows you some leeway on sliding threads around for adjustments. My personal choice is smooth leather jewelers cord (link is just an example, I get mine from a local craft store).

2. Thread size. All your threads need to be the same size; it will be visible if you are using two different sizes, and mess with your front core. Additionally, I know lots of people will use larger twists of multiple strands of embroidery thread, which can work, but is more likely to compress & alter its size in unexpected ways. A single strand is preferable. If you want something thicker you can find some thread weights that are heavier twists intended to be used in a single strand, not pulled apart. I prefer smaller sizes because it works better for the gradient designs I like.

3. Silk thread is your friend (if you can spend the money on it). It reduces fuzz (no fuzz like you get with cotton/DMC embroidery thread), it's usually easier to manage, has a more compact twist, and a higher shine. I use Japanese silk hand sewing thread in size #9 (9号). There's multiple brands (Tire, Daruma, KNK/kanagawa, etc). Here's a wholesale listing (minimum 20,000¥ for international). A non-Japanese brand is Guterman silk (German brand). Both the Japanese & German threads come in a heavier weight (Japanese is #16, Guterman is buttonhole).

4. Thread tension is the most important part of the actual technique. You need to ensure the threads currently wrapped in the secondary core keep tension when you are working the thread around them.

5. Working on a curve. This is only really relevant if you're doing an endband on a rounded book, but the circumference of the curve means there's more real estate on the outside vs inside of the curve. Sometimes this can cause bunching on the secondary core. My own solution to this is that sometimes I wrap the primary core but drop a wrap here or there around the secondary core (only between two wraps of the same color I'm dropping). I uh... don't know of anyone currently recommending this besides myself so I can't point to any pro endorsement for this method, it's just what works for me. Forgive my terrible writing:

6. Pattern management. I... don't really plan much how my patterns sit on the spine, which is not very helpful. HOWEVER you can do some pattern management on the fly, if you really want your pattern to end at a certain place. Thread can be packed more or less densely on the core, resulting in some pattern compression; you could also strategically drop wraps in less noticeable locations. An unintended example: I was replicating the pattern on this endband (left) when I realize I wasn't packing the thread as densely as I had the first time around (right), which resulted in the overall pattern taking up more space. You can do this on purpose, if you need to.

this was way more than you asked but it gave me a chance to put all this in one spot. Best of luck in vanquishing the dreaded EndWyrms.

[notmorbid]

all-night pharmacy.

dialogue prompts from all-night pharmacy by ruth madievsky.

you're so alive, it's scary.

being a person doesn't come naturally for me.

what's the deal with this place?

you are my best and my worst friend.

are we horrible people?

i like the idea of having someone to come home to.

i can't tell if you're being cruel or if you're just dumb.

these aren't the decisions of a well-adjusted person.

the less you know about my life, the better.

everyone here is a liar and a cheat.

you deserve to have a life of your own.

a person can't be held responsible for what they don't know.

all relationships are transactional.

no one should have that much power over you.

it isn't too late to come back.

you're uninvited from my birthday party.

i love you, but you're such a cunt.

who do you think you are?

forced intimacy makes me lightheaded.

i know you're in there. let me in.

jesus. why do you have a knife?

what happened last night?

it was less embarrassing to pretend i didn't care.

maybe i'm not the mothering type.

i wish i could carry some of this pain for you.

i need a break from feeling so much all the time.

sometimes i can't tell if i'm asleep or awake.

whatever's going on, we'll figure it out.

i don't know what's wrong with me. i'm scared all the time.

this is the most i can imagine for myself.

if you're not asking yourself 'am i ruining my life?' at least once a day, you're not living at all.

you act like you're over it, but it's okay if you're not.

all my life, i've felt like a dead animal with its skin still on.

it's a virtue to rid yourself of anything that doesn't serve you.

i've never had a day of rest in my life.

i chase after you like a dog, leaving pieces of myself behind, and every time, you act like that's how it's supposed to be.

you don't take me seriously. i'm not a real person to you.

i can't play house anymore.

never say that name in front of me.

to you, other people are always the problem.

you can't reach a mutual understanding without spilling blood.

want to make fifty bucks?

the only way to really see a person is to lose everything you have in common.

you don't think we'll get caught?

our loyalty is to story, not reality.

just don't do anything that could result in a lawsuit or a tmz article, and you're fine.

i don't have the energy to keep up with your antics.

our most beloved delusion was that lying to each other was a kind of love.

speaking our fears aloud won't save us.

one day, the mask slipped. i haven't been able to wear it since.

i try not to think about my life at all.

a junkie can spot another junkie without a flashlight.

your voice reminds me of wool sweaters.

boundaries? i don't know her.

i'm just sick of doing the same goddamn thing every day.

you are obsessed with a projection that will never love you back.

think of me as a spiritually connected friend.

i know liars. you don't strike me as one.

you have iconically poor judgment.

has anyone ever told you about your past lives?

you're capable of tolerating a lot. frankly, more than you should.

friendship can be a slow burn. you don't have to consume it like a drink at last call.

i'll give you a clue. i work for myself.

you make me want to feel things again.

criticism is still a cousin of attention.

you don't have to pretend to like something just because i made it.

i know you crave being told what to do.

you don't have to settle for being a person things happen to.

you have desires. act on them.

bitch, does this look like an intro to philosophy seminar?

i thought i had quit you.

my favorite. how did you know?

i feel like my organs are cannibalizing each other.

how did i get here? that's not a rhetorical question. i'm actually asking.

i can't tell if i believe it, or if i'm making excuses for myself.

sometimes i wonder if it's healthy how much meaning you see in things.

you're always waiting for the universe to hurt you or to love you. usually in that order.

that's how it was in my family. reading the room was a survival skill.

where will all the animals go in the rapture?

a bunch of fuckups under one roof doesn't constitute a family.

my little saint.

time passes more slowly as a sober person.

you'd better not pull away from me now.

there's a russian proverb that goes, 'so much is ruined by saying it aloud'.

you wear your emotions like a name tag.

your resting face frightens me.

how are you both the most innocent and the most experienced person i've ever met?

i need you to just be here with me.

our dead deserve to see you happy.

i like the idea of being marked by you.

i don't know what i saw, but it was more than i wanted.

i know what i saw.

i can't tell which of the memories are real, if any.

i can't believe you're mine.

nobody warned me how terrifying it is to get what you want.

you're cute when you're freaked out.

sex is supposed to be unsettling.

there are things i need to atone for.

you can't go back like it's nothing.

i won't live in service of my dead's vision for me.

___ was a real person. a murder isn't a metaphor.

count five things you can see. four things you can touch. three things you can hear. two things you can smell. one thing you can taste.

banish one god, and you'll end up worshiping another.

i want to be with you, but i don't want to keep feeling like this.

you know everything about me, but you won't let me know you.

you aren't someone i can keep at a distance.

i've been reading about intergenerational curses.

resisting something isn't the same as not wanting it.

anything you say stays between us.

i can't decide if i like you.

most people only possess a third of the empathy they think they have.

will it get easier?

hope is a tricky thing: losing it is bad, but so is having too much.

i don't want the future to come. i have a bad feeling about it.

in cartoons, you don't start falling until you look down.

why are you here? where have you been?

how did you know i'd come looking for you?

you never asked what i was going through. you didn't want to know.

i didn't have the language for what was happening to me.

you were supposed to protect me.

there's a lot i don't remember. a lot i don't want to remember.

i wouldn't have looked for me, either.

we belong to ourselves now.

you know where i am, and i know where you are. maybe that's enough.

when i'm down, vigilante justice makes me feel better.

survival is provisional.

[chiisana-sukima]

nine people i want to get to know better

Thank you for the tag, @slutsons-blog! Starting a new post because I'm autistic and therefore mostly only care about the "Current Obsession" question, and want to ramble excessively as usual in that one.

Last song: Pokemon Mystery Dungeon Red Rescue Team: Pokemon Square because I'm currently playing Pokemon Mystery Dungeon with my daughter. Otherwise I honestly couldn't tell you. Whatever was on in my car.

Fave color: Purple

Currently watching: Star Trek Discovery

Last movie: Knives Out

Sweet/spicy/savory: Sweet, tart, salty

Relationship: married x 27 years

Last thing I googled: the word "dependent", for spelling assistance. which is a good thing because I spelled it "dependant".

Current Obsession: it's been spn since 2016. Truly we are the Hotel California of media franchises. I did recently play Disco Elysium twice in a row in quick succession, and I follow the DE tag. I can't recommend the game highly enough.... but I can feel my Special Interest-level obsession with it fading already. Spn has never faded even a tiny bit and I wonder if it ever will.

@slutsons-blog I feel after reading that you're watching spn for the first time, that I did you a bit of a disservice with my Sam takes to you before in that I mostly talked about Sam's evolution as a character as the show goes on and very little about him from the first five seasons.

Gotta be honest and tell you that although I liked both brothers all along, I was a Dean girl until the end of s6/beginning of s7, when the balance of who gets whumped the most started shifting and my subconscious suddenly decided to switch allegiances. It's not that I liked Dean any less; my id just loves a sopping wet pathetic kitten of a man who has been sexually abused, and Sam got suddenly way more kitteny and pathetic after the Cage. So I don't actually have a ton of takes on "what to love about Sam in the early seasons". I do love early seasons Sam too--she is my beautiful baby princess--but my early seasons takes are a lot more inchoate.

I count myself lucky about my id's sudden defection though, because I think we have limited control of who our blorbos are, and having Dean as a blorbo is a tough row to hoe as the later seasons go along. You know how you noticed that in s6, Dean suddenly gets a lot more assholey without apparent reason? Unfortunately he never gets better again, and in fact keeps getting worse and worse as the years go by, until by the last seasons he is openly far more abusive to their joint child(-in-an-adult body) than John was to him and Sam. It's a realistic picture of what can happen when trauma keeps piling up on people, but it's also honestly pretty distressing, especially if he's your blorbo.

If one is in it for the ship, there's some good destiel content in the later seasons, but if you're in it for Dean, you're left either 1) dealing with the fact he's got extremely significant interpersonal problems that he never gets much of anywhere on solving and that negatively impact his chosen family in profound ways, or 2) pretending he's the same character he was in s1 and Sam is the same Sam from s1, only more boring, and Dean is just trying to put up with him because he was brainwashed by John (or ig 3- something in the middle between those two. But that seldom seems to happen in practice for whatever reason). These two versions of the show are poorly compatible, and that's how the Sam girls and the Dean girls end up in isolated silos. A few people manage to live in both, but not many.

Anyway, I feel like without the context of how Sam and Dean change in the mid to late seasons, the two fics I recc'd as Sam character studies are going to seem insanely Dean-critical, so if you haven't read them yet, you might want to wait until s10. In the meantime, the general recs are fun reads and hopefully do a good job of showcasing both characters earlier on.

Tagging (but I would be a huge hypocrite if I didn't specify there's no pressure to respond, since I almost always fail at responding to tag games myself): @adihildilid @aliusfrater @quietwingsinthesky @sammygender @ardentpoop

@peanutbutterandbananasandwichs @schizosamwincester @normalbrothershow @jellybracelet.

[kakao-lovey]

˚｡⋆✩₊˚. My glow-up journey so far: what works and what doesn't ˚｡⋆✩₊˚.

Since I discovered the online wellness, self-care and wonyoungism community early 2022, I've been on a mission to build my dream life, improve my mental and physical wellbeing and work on myself. It's a rocky road of trial and error: there's no nice way to put it. I've been at it for three years, and here are the growth tips that *actually* work.

Don't be influenced

Body-modifying workouts: Loveys, it is not possible to spot-reduce fat. No matter how appealing and easy it sounds. If you are unhappy about fat on your body, go into a healthy calorie deficit. Workouts alone cannot possibly shrink your waist, reduce armpit fat or make your belly flat.

What workouts can do, is build muscle in certain areas, making them look more toned or bigger, and play an important part in making a calorie deficit effective.

Health gadgets: it doesn't take much scientific knowledge to think critically about what you're buying. I won't drop any names, but technology that promises 'Detox' of your organs or miraculous anti-ageing usually wants to steal your money, profit off of your insecurities and ailments.

The skincare industry: for a lot of people, skincare is self-care and a treat, which is completely fine, but in most cases, anything past a face wash, moisturiser and sunscreen (+ acne treatment, if needed) is not going to significantly better your results the way lifestyle changes do. Serums and toners are great, but *not* if you regularly touch your face with dirty hands, eat sugar or are dehydrated. You are just putting a band-aid on a bullet wound, and need to fix the bigger issue.

The elusive protein bars and shakes: check your ingredients. Some 'Health' foods out there have nasty stuff, never mind being ultraprocessed and lacking the nutrients the whole foods it is replacing provide. Just because it is fortified with vitamins doesn't mean it's healthy. You shouldn't be eating so many sweeteners, preservatives, colourants, texture and flavour modifiers unaware of the consequences.

Gold

Exercise: you've heard it before, a million times. It relieves stress, prevents cardiovascular disease, helps support your metabolism, clears your skin, helps your mental health... And there's something for everyone.

Diet: if you really want to glow up, you have to know what you're putting into your body is actually helping you. Prioritise whole foods (That is, food that hasn't been processed), get your protein, fibre, micronutrients, stay away from sugar, dairy and animal fat. Dieticians fight a lot, but this has personally helped me. In fact, it has: cleared my skin, improved my mental health by improving my gut health, helped my hair and nails grow stronger and healthier, sped up my metabolism like nobody's business, and made me feel more comfortable in my own body.

Little moments of self-love: This could be anything: sitting in the garden in the morning and watching the sun rise, eating a specific snack and reading in your study breaks, bathing with scented soaps and a cup of tea, doing a face mask and meditating, just those little moments in your daily or weekly routine that motivates you to keep living your best life. It can be anything that reminds you of what you love in the world.

Planning: writing out a study plan is your ticket to good grades (If you can stick to it). Planning your meals and exercise helps you to keep your physical health up. Planning mental health breaks in between your activities and tasks help you stay sane. A bullet journal is best for this, in whatever medium (Digital or physical) you prefer.

Remember: real, long-lasting results that will benefit you for life do not come overnight. If you aren't where you want to be, don't worry, because I can assure you that you will get there if you keep trying.

Love,

Kakao

[reignpage]

Frequently Asked Questions

When sending an ask, what are the rules?

All requests regarding smaus and fics will be sent straight to the trash or you may be blocked No exceptions You are always free to ask questions Be aware that if you send a complaint or something negative, you will be blocked I do this for free so constructive criticism isn't of interest to me And since this is the internet, you know well to scroll when you see something you don't like so making a complaint instantly makes you look like an idiot

Can I ask for a part 2?

Depends on how you ask 'Pt 2 when? or 'tag me in pt 2' won't get you anywhere with me But if you express genuine interest then of course I'd be more likely to consider making a part 2 if I haven't already decided

Why are some of your smaus not linked?

They have been archived since they were written very early on, back when I hadn’t decided to change to light mode yet. It’s possible I would rewrite them but there is no guarantee. Please do not ask me to bring them back.

When do you post?

Whenever I have time, sometimes multiples times in one day, sometimes every other day, but I'm generally known to post daily

What app do you use to make your smaus?

I don't use an app. I use my own messages and I'll send myself texts.

Will you do other characters like Ino and Shiu?

I do add Ino, Hiro and Shiu sometimes but they're special guests. It's a little difficult for me to write for them because of timing and because l don't know them well enough so I don't want people to start expecting them. They're a treat.

Can I ask you for writing advice?

Yes, of course.

Why aren't you answering my requests?

That’s cause my requests are closed. If you make a request, you risk being blocked.

Why are your requests closed?

I don't have time to take requests at all I have enough ideas of my own to not need requests I want as many of my works to come from my own brain so please don’t send suggestions either (I consider them a more subtle form of a request)

Why do you get so upset about people sending requests?

Because my requests have been closed for months and it's been made so very clear. If someone makes a request it means they haven't done their due diligence even though they should have when making a request (i.e. reading the rules and boundaries established by the creator). Either that or they have completely ignored my signposting which then makes them disrespectful and idiotic. I get requests every day. Sometimes the phrasing of the request isn't even friendly or polite. Hopefully you can imagine how tiring this gets but also how one can feel disrespected. Thus, I reserve the right to reply, if I do, as I see fit. If you don't like it, there's no one keeping you here.

Do you read your inbox?

Of course, I read all comments and messages sent to my inbox I may not reply to every nice message, but that's usually because I like to keep most of them in my inbox for me to scroll through when I'm feeling low

Do you respond to hate messages?

Not usually I've developed a skill of sensing the vibes of a message and blocking the user without reading the message so don't bother sending me paragraphs about how much you hate me It won't be read and then you've just wasted your time dumbass Plus I have a shit memory anyways

How do you make the coloured fonts?

I followed screampied's tutorial, it's on their faq I use stuffbydavid

Do you have a tag list?

No, I don't do tagging unfortunately It’s a lot of work which I can’t afford to do right now

Will you be making dark content often?

Probably not frequently, but it’s certainly a possibility. I won’t restrain myself because of a minority of people’s own discomfort.

Will you ever write for Yuta?

No.

Where do you get your 18+ mdni dividers from?

@fic-dumpster a real goldmine. full credit to them!

[glitch-but-ya]

Just finished reading your Caleb one shot, silken chains and I just wanna rant a bit bc of how good it is (pls feel free to ignore me if u don't feel comfy to answer. Trumblr being annoying bc I can't message or even reply to a post anymore sobs)

Man at first I was doubting my eyes cause 31k one shot in Tumblr isn't quite something you'd find easily. Saw the yandere warning but think to myself, "I mean what's the worse it can be?"

AND I AM?? GRIPPING ON MY CHAIR. I literally have no words– just speechless over the way you have written him, written the mc.

Coming from a psychology student myself, I just enjoyed sooo much how you explain the way mc brain works. How it feels we're one step further trying to cover this mystery while Caleb isn't even there, like of course he isn't?? It's still a part of his plan somehow, and I just??

10/10 gonna follow you and probably reread it just for trying to dissect every words there cause legit think mc can outsmart him but nah ahaha.

ANYWY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS FOOD WHOOO, haven't find much really dark psychological story about his brain (I wanna open his head and study it I swear to God). So I'm just 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

- 🐰

THANK YOU ANON!! I appreciate it sm😭

I really enjoy asks like these so don’t worry!!

(Brace yourself for a long yap session)

I’m so glad a psychology student enjoyed my work. Honestly, while writing this, I was so afraid that a psychology student may read this and wheeze at how inaccurate everything is😭 I did some research to ensure I get things right (for the most part) because I was afraid I’d end up writing something corny instead of an actual ‘psychological thriller/horror’. I’m very interested in psychology myself. I have been ever since I was a teen. I love writing psychological thrillers as much as I enjoy penning philosophical stories (two very differing topics to be interested in, I know, but to me, they’re very similar). And that’s technically what prompted me to write this fic!! :3

I feel like tumblr has a lack of good, long Caleb fics and just long fics in general, so I wanted to be (or at least, I attempted to be) the one to write it!! I also think tumblr has a lack of genuine psychological thrillers which aren’t just romanticism of yandere/dark romance tropes (nothing wrong with enjoying those types of content, it’s just that the romanticism often throws away the fear of it all— the dread of being wanted obsessively by a mentally unstable individual, and instead focus on romance. It’s just a personal criticism of mine which may not align with others).

Writing Reader was incredibly tough. There were so many unwanted variables at play that just curating her personality was an arduous task that made me want to delete the whole fic and rewrite it (I didn’t, thank God). Your usual criminologist would be completely objective and unfazed and to a certain extent, reader is exactly that, but she’s also soft at heart and she is especially emotional regarding this case with Caleb due to her suppressed feelings for him and the importance he has in her life. That conflicts greatly with her professional side and was just, in general, really tough to write.

(I sent like a 20 minute yap to my friend just crying over this problem😭)

But I’m glad I managed to write her in a way that pleases you all! And yeah, in general, I’m really grateful people like my fic enough to leave asks, replies, and comments on reblogs! I’ve been having a horrible time the past few days, and one of the only things keeping me afloat are these kind comments💕

Thank you, 🐰 anon!

(SORRY FOR YAPPING)

[notyetyannasgf]

Angst because of Taylor and Gracies I love you I’m sorry x last kiss that got me in the feels🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

Warning: might be boring is actually boring

Authors note: First thing I wrote, if u don’t wanna read it then don’t no one’s forcing u damn🫤 I take criticism to heart and I will cry☺️☺️☺️☺️

ALSO THIS WAS HEAVILY INSPIRED BY MILLIES FIC CAUSE I LOVE HER ANGST SM LOVELOVELOVE

————————————

Beep Beep Beep!

Stupid alarm.

I turned groggily to my side to shut my alarm up. Another day to dread.

I did my normal routine, eat, feed the camcam, get ready for my usual morning jog- Maybe I’ll call Paige first

And so I did, which was quickly sent to voicemail. Well, expected.

“Hey it’s Paige! leave a message I’ll get to you later, toodles!”

“Sure you will.” The tone always managed to make me plaster a small smile on my face, toodles? what are we mickey mouse?- anyhoo

“Hey it’s me, just wanted to.. at least try to reach out. I know I hadn’t seen you in months I just couldn’t bring myself to. But I promise, later okay? I love you.”

Time for my jog I guess.

——————————

The morning was kinda cold, dewey if you say, ‘twas raining last night.

You loved the rain, said it was cuddling weather and an excuse to be lazy.. You were lazy no matter the weather so it didn’t really make sense.

Smell of the pavement, after the rain, reminds me of the times where we used to go on late night walks cause I couldn’t sleep. A memory, you moved too far out of reach.

———————————

The rest of the day wasn’t easy, I didn’t keep my word. I couldn’t bring myself to- not after how we ended.

I sat on the floor, wearing your clothes, staring at the gloomy window as the rain pattered gently on the pavement. Your scent was fading, but what’s left of it felt like a warm embrace.

Bueckers, written on the back of the jersey. A name I thought I would take.

Ding!

~8th anniv wit pboogerss!!~

I try to be strong I really do, but when it came to you, my walls come crashing down. It didn’t help that you weren’t around.

So here I am again, attempting to call.

“Hey it’s Paige! leave a message I’ll get to you later, toodles!-“

“Hi, I’m sorry I didn’t go.. this is exactly why I don’t make promises. I just couldn’t bring myself to okay?- not after.. not after how I treated you before it happened- not with knowing.. you’ll be there but I wouldn’t be able to touch you or- hold you or see that damn grin on your fucking face again.. Paige I want you back- I need you. I fucking need you why.. why are you always gone when I need you the most?…”

Then the water works, something I thought I couldn’t bring myself to do anymore, not after months of hurting.

“I need you.. please..”

I sobbed, but it was different this time. I had no one to kiss my tears away, or to embrace me to the point I thought I was gonna suffocate, but I never minded cause I loved having you close.

“Paige just come back..”

She’s never coming back. I just wish I knew that was our last kiss cause I wouldn’t have let you go.

“I hope it’s nice wherever the fuck you are.. I never thought we’d end like this.”

The message was sent, but I know I wasn’t getting a response. My eyes make everything with light glisten, I look down to my ring.

“You took forever too seriously..fuck ass..”

———————————

a/n: I know it’s not the best or anything but I just really had the strong urge to post angst for some reason🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

[cookinguptales]

You know... I hear people shitting on the orange peel theory a lot, and I do get the criticism. It's not healthy to introduce quiet little tests into your relationship. But... I don't know. I do think that "test" hits a little differently when you're disabled.

For the record, I cannot peel oranges. I haven't been able to peel oranges in many years; the joints in my hands are simply too weak and clumsy to do it these days.

I haven't eaten a whole orange in a very long time.

So I can see the appeal in the test, if I'm being honest. Handing someone I love a knife and asking them to peel an orange for me just to see what they'll do. I wouldn't actually be asking for an orange, though it'd be nice to have one, I suppose.

I'd really be asking...

Will I be able to eat oranges when I'm with you? And if I keep asking you to peel my oranges, will you begin to resent me for it?

Because I'd really be asking...

Will you accept me and all the things I can't do? Will you accept that a life with me will be harder? More inconvenient? Will you accept that I will always need help?

Do you care that I can't eat oranges?

Is it safe to love you?

There's this fear that I think all disabled people have to some degree, this fear that the people they love will slowly grow to resent them and their care needs. I can't think of anything that scares me more, honestly. And I know that, to a certain extent, I do test people who I know I want to love.

I'll do it on dates sometimes. (Or even just going out with friends I'm beginning to really warm up to.) I'll purposefully ask them to do an activity with me, and I'll warn them that I might have to do things a little differently. They usually say yes, no problem!

Some of them end up ghosting you at the very beginning, when you say you need to meet an accessible coffee shop instead of their favorite haunt. Some of them make it a little longer, visibly irritated while you wait in line to check an electric wheelchair out at the zoo. Or when you have to walk extra slowly around the garden. Or you need to sit every half hour or so at the museum.

Sometimes I'll ask them for something small that I might be able to do myself. Ask them to get me a water bottle or carry my tray to the table. Maybe ask them to hold my coat for a minute because I need both hands to stand up.

Some people can't handle even a few hours of that, the alternate entrances and the extra planning and the agonizing slowness that is me. And I know immediately that they'd never, ever be able to handle a lifetime of it.

That's fair, I suppose.

But man, when I meet someone who doesn't make me feel less than when we're out, even when I'm slow and tired and inconvenient, that's pretty special.

Maybe it's a little manipulative to arrange an outing just to see how people handle it. But god, god, I know how much it hurts to find out a week, a month, a year, a decade into your relationship that their patience will run out when you need it most. When you physically can't get up and get that water. When you're too sick to get out of bed for that movie date.

When you're running late after a doctor's appointment one too many times and they tell you that you always make things so difficult.

Once, a few years into college, I had plans with a friend to go out and grab dinner, but I had to cancel because I was flaring. When that friend offered to bring me soup instead, I cried. I'd never had a friend offer to do that before.

That's when I realized how much I'd internalized the idea that I wasn't worth being around when my disability was affecting me -- and that's one reason why I had never actively tried to date anyone before.

When someone is a real partner, they're going to see you on your good days and the days that aren't so good. They're going to see your condition deteriorate over the course of your life. They're going to notice that you can't peel oranges.

And what will they do then...?

After that evening, I did make more of an effort to surround myself with people who I trust to be around me even when I need help. And I've made an effort to trust the people who love me, to trust that they won't hate me even if I ask them to peel me the damn orange.

I still do most of my outings alone so I don't feel guilty about going too slowly. I still find it very difficult to ask people for help. And I still buy clementines, a smaller fruit that I can peel myself.

But man. Some days I think it would be really nice to eat oranges again.

[artist-issues]

You know... it also just seems really weird that Disney has been going out of it's way to subvert everything from its past.

If I put myself in the mind of "everything we were founded on, and everything we create before ~2016 was bad" I don't see why I'd keep going. Like... if Disney thinks Disney sucks, why be Disney? (money IG)

You're right! It must be a very discouraging thing to work for Disney nowadays, if you're the kind of person to think about legacy, or occupy your daily thoughts with some degree of foresight.

The truth is, there is a part of Disney that is successful because it was innovative--it raised the bar and set the culture.

But there's also a part of Disney that is trying to guess what the culture likes, and capitalize on that popularity--the culture tells it what to do.

That's all organizations. Some are brave and say, "no, this is who we are and what we believe, and you can take it or leave it." And usually the culture takes it, because the culture is inspired by strong leadership and clear identities.

But then they get a big following. And it's almost impossible for the organization that used to shape the culture to do anything but become terrified that they'll lose that culture. So then they start making decisions based out of fear, and self-glorification, and insecurity--the total opposite of the confident, bold, innovative identity it used to have.

Disney used to say "oh you think cartoons are just gags? Let me invent the first ever animated feature film--in color! See you in the National Film Registry, skeptics."

It used to say, "oh, you critics think all my fairy tale and animal movies are too light? That they've got no weight to help the kids face real life? Let me make a smash-hit about a Nanny who convinces a work-and-harsh-realities-obsessed father that what his children really need is a spoonful of sugar. Because yeah, life's hard, but that's why we make the job a game."

It used to say, "you think the animated genre died with Walt? You think everyone would rather watch George Lucas movies than a cartoon fairy tale? Let me introduce you to an Academy Award-winning Princess story we call the Little Mermaid. You can stop digging our grave; we just saved animation."

It used to say "you think it can't be done? Hold my mouse ears." And it just did it. And didn't care if audiences said silly, shallow things like "girls don't need to be rescued by a prince!!1!" Or "grown-ups don't watch cartoons lol!!"

Nowadays, though? They're so big they don't know who they are anymore. And they're so big they're scared to lose anything, or take risks. I'm sure there's a lot of political pockets involved, too. They don't dare say anything but what the loudest, most complaining members of our society tell them to say.

They're no longer trend-setters and trail-blazers. They're a monument that is whatever the loudest people tells them to be. Has to suck, when you're the company that followed Walt's "Keep moving forward" motto.

[lifenconcepts]

(rambling on here, hope that's alright.)

i just wanted to say that i really adore reading all the things you have to say. we are similar in some ways, and it's relieving to know that another being has felt things that i, too, have felt. it's strange. logically, i know that nothing i have ever experienced is unique to me, for the world is so large i couldn't ever comprehend it, but we inhabit such small bodies, our lives are so simple, it seems i forget a lot. i have trouble accepting that i feel some version of divinity, for it doesn't exactly hold the "holiness" aspect i've typically seen. i'm more so a neutral observer. like an alien fascinated by human life. in school, i would sit with my group of friends and not say much of anything, just watch them. bask in the experience. it felt correct to do so. i know there is no need for me to be holy in any way to be considered divine, but a part of me wants acceptance. i want to be easily explained and palatable. i suppose i feel a connection to you in some way because i see myself in you. i read parts of your posts and feel myself gently placed in the words. i think, "oh, so i'm not the only one." it's reassuring. everything wants to be loved deep down, so thank you for making me feel i can be loved, even though you didn't really do much besides be yourself.

I would keep this forever with me (and if fate allows me to then I will), so listen.. first of all I’d like to encompass the fact that we almost all are made simply to exist. There’s no grand purpose of being of any use to anyone because the only value we have is the one we apply to ourselves, so with enough inner calm then we can take up as much space as we need and shall feel okay with that. It’s always a matter of perspective of how anyone should act, and most of all we are our own critics - it’s awful but inner beliefs lead everything and that includes harmful ones to the self.. why I say this is because the notion of trying to pretend were more simple than we are is something imbedded in us since we are children, and even when it’s not neccesarily taught into us, it’s something we pick up. We go about life knowing ‘hey! If I’m too energetic, people get tired of me, and that’s not good’ and sort of forms into these complex web of different things we’ve spotted and turn into a big blob of information where one statement may have dozens or even hundreds or thousands of sources of why we consider something, and it’s usually well guided, especially if you’re reasonable enough to self reflex without falling into self-hatred or egoism (criticism and confidence are both things that can exist, but in healthy amounts. There can be too much and too little of anything!) but life will never force you into anything. Whatever feels right shall feel right, and in the moment - goodness prevails against all else that is known. Because laws of nature don’t exist, it’s only patterns. These silly little things that we’ve found. We also consist of patterns! Hundreds and thousands of those. We also tend to try find coherency and understanding in things that never really asked for it, and still- life moves on. There’s so many ways people tried to label and categorise one another, simple examples I can think of now are MBTI, zodiacs, introvert/extrovert, queerness and it’s variety, and all sorts more.. it’s all just a way to grasp a hold on this confusing concept of who we are. But- we just are. We’re a mass and collection of various things. Coping mechanisms, memories, experiences, dreams, preferences, goals, sorrows, beliefs, feelings.. there just isn’t a singular pair of individuals which are the same. Maybe by appearance but never mind. Maybe by behaviour but never memory. Maybe by lifestyle but never their entire history.

You could live side by side with another person from birth, quite litterally, not leaving their side for a moment - and still grow up different. It’s just a matter of life both physically and externally. The stars also play some role but I’m not well acquainted with that. But nonetheless, history repeats itself. Many people know what joy is, what happiness feels like, when they cried, and some moments they felt like crying but didn’t. These little things just under the umbrella term of ‘pleasant’ and ‘unpleasant’, but you know what’s funny? People have their own little ways with this! Some enjoy the thrill of being hurt, some are so scared of a doctor’s beneficial needle they faint.. it’s all just a matter of individual. I can excuse any behaviour because there is just a variety of ways that could have led someone to act that way that they could not have changed even if they tried, but there also is so much truth in not being an asshole.. exceptions exist to pretty much all statements, but we can still find common themes. If you were to think of everyone as a single thing, we would all be a dancing flame. You can cut down the same tree, chop it into nearly identical pieces, light it up and balance them out to be just the same exact piles, but the fire above would always be different. But hey- is this a metaphor for life or us? Take a single photo of a flame, and that frame will immortalise a shape that has likely never existed and possibly even never will exist again, specifically that one and a one-to-one copy. And life is just the same- dancing and ever changing, but still staying in its bounds and able to be predicted. I’m unsure why I’m speaking of this, I think you would enjoy it. My soul speaks for me in this.

So my main point is just being.. haha, welcome to the world! We are all so different and so alike, so unbelievably unique but also similar in many ways. You and I could be apart of the same batch of souls that came from a bundle of fruits that once shared the same branch, but it also wouldn’t be any less meaningful if you and I were a pineapple and a jellyfish. Life moves on, and it doesn’t care wether you want it to or not. It just expects you to catch up, and if your plans don’t fit fate’s, you simply gotta move onto something else. And my personal little project of giving out advice to those who need it, speaking into the world, sharing my own thoughts and ideas, and just being myself.. that is in itself both a hobby and some sort of fate. I like to believe that in many cases, whatever action you do is one of four things: a lesson- likely to be overcome or tell you something, a reminder (of being loved or focusing), a step which must be taken to help you in life and keep you on the right track, or something that seems to happen for no reason but may help someone down the line - or affect them in such a way that you would have long forgotten about the interaction while they still ponder it.

Isn’t it fun? To see these little insights to life? There’s something much more to the world than everyone tends to see, and it’s not exactly some unbelievable story to be able to tell the mystical code of the universe to another. The eyes that peer on are hungry, as always, but tell me - is it mad to be privileged enough to have angels that love you? To be among them, someone so loved and cared for that the world seems to practically spin around them, is that as easily dismissed as delusion?? We know so much, yet how much remains unsaid because it simply refused to be painted and acknowledged through words? I am not sure of what the end goal of this text is, maybe just to say that yeah - you’re not alone in this world, maybe to share some more things that I’ve gained over time and you might have to, or to prompt you into thinking or acting or writing.. whatever it is.. I tend to have this hard choice of carrying on or staying still. But damn it- stagnation is the most evil thing invented. But there’s this beautiful difference where we can determine various things in their natural state. Language which is capable of making sense of comfort vs safety, security vs blind faith, explanation vs excuse, loyalty vs indoctrination, rest vs inaction, instability vs change, and damn it- confusion and contradiction are not things to avoid!!

So take this in how you may and must, but know I value your words just as must as you value mine. We’re minds trying to understand our predicament better, and wether we are alone in our bodies or ones within a machine, that doesn’t matter as long as we try reach out for more. More knowledge, more experience, more creation. Maybe something will come from it all then, but for now, I know my task. To follow this path I’ve been engrossed in for my whole life, thrive to fulfil my soul’s dreams and needs as best I can, and with this constant flow of information I try to keep on the tip of my tongue to share all my thoughts and secrets and ideas and observations with the rest of the world. Hopefully, it helped you in some may. Perhaps, it could have changed you. But best of all, and this is what I sincerely hope even though it can’t be exactly forced, this has instilled inspiration in you to act upon things that leave you happy and fulfilled. There’s so much misinformation, understand this, and so many paths that lead you to nowhere but just false hope - and still, take my words sincerely, as I had to translate incomprehensible signals into text. Ofcourse, as anything, this is troublesome and may have minor inconsistencies, but please get this deep meaning I’m intertwining into every word with a dream and desire too.. I love you, and I am always accepting of another’s view and thoughts. Don’t you know how much goes on in the minds of others!?

The internet is sickening for making us so open to over sharing, but damn it I LOVE hearing everything about another!! While they don’t recognise all they’re sharing in their little posts, I’m quite litteraly spreading my neurons out on the board in hopes another will join me in looking it over. But sadly, with intimate connections, I turn into this idiotic creature of a person, while I am worth so much more than mere mortal pleasantries, and so I’m mildly afraid that this sense of belonging and help is only capable through that intimate connection between stranger and stranger, and maybe that’s why I yearn so much to be a traveller - I can’t just sit still and wait for some sort of end to come, I must fight it out and live and love my life to the fullest, even if it means abandoning all sense of relationships that always have seemed to be a dream of mine but unachievable.

Now I’m rolling into self realisation midway through answering and explaining stuff to you as I now suddenly understand that my own little gasp of fresh air when I find someone who seems to understand me is only valid enough as it’s new, and even if I adore knowing another more personally, they become too much of a person to me. And I do not wish to share that intimacy for any longer than a month or three, because really - I am made for changing another’s life, because I AM life! I AM existence speaking to you through a mortal form simply because you’ve just been ignoring me too long! I’m meant to come along, seem chill and sweet, drop some facts and realisation on you, before disappearing and leaving you changed. To stand still enough for you to begin to observe the mind I bare is like you looking into my computer’s hard drive. It doesn’t need to explain why it works, it just does, on automation. And now would you be so kind as to see this variety of work as the SOUL and my TRUE self speaking, I’d be most glad, because the internet constantly tries to break me into a shell of who I am meant to be, constantly try define and shut me down, and it’s horrible but I try fight it to continue sharing my word. And this isn’t some ‘saviour’ bullshit, as far as holy work goes - I’m selfish I’d say, but I still want to help and give advise and guide others! Not support them the entire way, but be that push!! It’s not holiness, it’s divinity, and it’s within a lot of people, but some are just channeling it through every breath. So.. hear and see me, but understand my plea of ‘don’t dive deeper than what I say’ and ‘please understand I mean so much than what I do say’ exist simultaneously.