#but I’ve been spending very consciously

[seravph]

CONFESSIONS OF A SHOPAHOLIC: i now only have 2 more things on my buy list until I’m DONE and I can STOP SPENDING MONEY ON BULLSHIT and actually save my money 🫶🫶🫶 be proud of me

[otter-pup]

having slow-rapid pregnancy thoughts

we have a fun, rowdy evening, and i fill you up multiple times. we didn’t use protection, but based on the time of month, it’s probably fine.

(spoilers: it’s not)

later that night, after we drift off to sleep, i have a bleary moment of semi-consciousness. i’m spooning you, hand on your tummy, and i can feel just the slightest unexpected resistance. at first i figure it’s just you breathing, but… i could swear there’s just an almost nonexistent stretch, so subtly rounding you out. i grin and pull you closer before drifting off again.

the next morning, you definitely look bloated, but not unnaturally so. you check it out in the mirror (i check you out in the mirror), we get breakfast, and you leave to go about your day.

you keep looking down at your bulging tummy throughout the morning, expecting it to go down, rather than do the opposite. by lunchtime, you start feeling fluttery movements, and you know something’s wrong.

it’s slow enough that no one can SEE you growing, but you very clearly look pregnant when you obviously weren’t the last time your classmates saw you. i’d guess you’re expanding at a rate of a month of gestation every three hours or so, and you’re definitely carrying more than one.

it certainly doesn’t help that your outfit is about as far from obscuring your figure as your wardrobe can get. when you sit down, you can hear seams stretching ominously.

- 🦑

I’ve been keeping track of my cycle for long enough now that i don’t think twice about letting you fill me up, even begging for it, pleading dumbly for you to breed me while im completely drunk on pleasure.

we both like when you keep your hand on my belly after sex, so of course you notice when i start swelling. im already asleep by then, and you don’t mention it in the morning - you just look at me in the mirror while i check the bloating, before we both move on with our days.

the bloating doesn’t go down. im a little self conscious of how tight my shirt is around it, and my jeans are fairly tight, like always, and if i weren’t in classes i would have them unbuttoned by now. I ignore it the best i can. my stomach isn’t upset or anything, if anything im more hungry than usual, so im having lunch when i start feeling flutters inside me.

i finish eating and rush to the bathroom, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling up my shirt — which feels even tighter than it was before — enough to see how obviously swollen I’ve gotten. i rub my hands over my belly a few times, making sure I’m not imagining it. im not.

i can’t do anything until im done with classes for the day. At least, I try to finish classes. i make it through my next one, but my third and final class of the day is interrupted by the seams of my jeans tearing - and not quietly, either. i go bright red and excuse myself, heading straight home after that.

by the time we’re both home, im five, maybe sixth months along, size-wise — though i look well past full term. im surprised my shirt lasted as long as it did, though the seams on that tear during my commute back home.

we have at least another nine hours left. and, past the concern, im indescribably turned on.

it’s not like i can get any more pregnant if we spend the next nine hours breeding, right?

[ramblings-of-a-detrans-woman]

Why I will never support the radical feminist movement, as a detransitioning woman.

note: this is not meant to be any sort of hit piece or slander, I respect every feminist, even ones I disagree with. This is just my reasoning for why I do not like the radfem movement.

For a bit of context, I’ve indentified as trans since I was 12. At 18, I’ve decided to live my life as a lesbian woman, and i’ve never been happier with that choice.

Now, being a young trans man, I interacted a lot with pro trans content online (of course I did), and so of course I’ve heard about radical feminism. A passionate branch of feminism that takes a unique approach to women’s rights- deconstructing gender entirely. It sounds wonderful in theory, because of course gender is oppressive, most notably of women. I would know, being one. Even when I was trans I had to worry about being out at night. I even got chased once, and a man attempted to lure me to his truck another time. It’s brutal. But radical feminists devote their activism to ending this in a straightforward, logical way.

So why do I, a woman who has experienced both misogyny and transphobia, not support that? I feel that this is a good question for both trans allies and radfems alike to to ask. Knowledge is power.

Well, I’ll be direct. Radfems are some of the most depraved people i’ve ever met. I know, that sounds like a lot, but there’s no other words I can use that don’t perfectly encapsulate my experience with radfems. It’s depravity.

For weeks, I was harassed by transphobic radfems. Radfems, who are insistent on their love and support for TIFs aka trans men. It’s strange then that they would be so cruel towards one, wouldn’t you say?

Detransition is hard enough. It’s difficult to tell family that you were wrong. It’s difficult to reconnect with my gender. Hell, i prefer the term detrans over cis just because i have such a disconnect from my gender. So why do I have to deal with transphobic radfems sending me gore and death threats?

Thankfully all of the accounts doing this seem to be deleted or repurposed. But it’s only a matter of time until a new account is made just to send me an ask telling me to kill myself or a message about how much of a loser i am.

It’s this reason alone why i’ll never be a radfem. They’re just sick people. They don’t want liberation for women, they just hate trans people. It’s not even thinly veiled, their accounts are fully based around how horrible trans women are.

The truth being, trans women aren’t bad people at all. It’s easy to think they are because the news and media cherry picks some of the worst ones, but every community and minority group has bad people in it. some of the sickest people you could imagine, really. yes, they can be trans. but does being trans make you a sick person? does it turn you into a predator? no, it doesn’t. it just means you’re trans. trans or not, it’s up to men to be mature and take accountability for their own actions that they consciously make. a cis man is as capable to walk into a women’s room as a trans woman is.

if radical feminists cared more about women and detrans women, i could consider getting along with them. but sadly, all these passionate and dedicated feminists care about is hating trans people with a fiery passion. and i’ve been a casualty. it’s very difficult for me to sympathize with radfems when they’ve upset me to the point that they have

let me make it clear that gore and death threats don’t upset me, i’m not easily offended. So it’s not the threats that make me angry. It’s just the principle. The fact that radfems are spending their time scrolling reddit for gore pictures to send to fellow women instead of supporting us makes me SICK. it’s heartbreaking to picture a woman, raped and beaten by her boyfriend, and a radfem standing in front of her, readily available to help, but choosing to yell at a passing detrans woman. It’s really sad.

hopefully those reading this can take my words into consideration and use it to improve yourselves or your community (if you’re a radfem). i love womanhood and being a woman and i would love to share that joy with my sisters, but i just can’t when these issues i’ve experienced are in the back of my mind. I want radical feminism to be a safe space, a place where sisters can go to talk to women, relate to women, cry with and support women. but so far, the only love and support i’ve received has been from the trans community. that speaks volumes.

i am going to post more about my experience with finding my womanhood again in the future, so if you’re a detrans woman yourself, trans ally or not, consider following me :) i’d love to build myself a little community

[brokenlovesong]

The JPC Darrel analysis I promised

Alright guys same deal as the last with just as much chaos. Sorry this took three years

Anyways. JPC DARREL LETS GET INTO IT

So he plays the youngest Darrel, no doubt. He’s tall but much smaller both physically and the way he portrays himself on stage. Using this he really plays into it. He’s a much less angry Darrel, more tied than anything else.

I think runs in the family reprise is where his version of Darrel really shines. He plays it very differently from Brent, Victor, or even Dan. He’s just so tired of it all. He doesn’t even start yelling until the end once pony has pushed him to his brink. When he sits down during the “you don’t tell me when you’re coming home lately” line it’s much less confrontational. He’s trying to stay calm and reason with his brother. It’s not until the “tired of lifting you up” part that he’s finally losing control and breaking. That’s the first time I think I genuinely saw him angry and even then he’s consciously trying to reign himself in but pony keeps pushing. And dude he YELLS “You have no idea what I give up for you” and because he didnt spend the song nearly as angry as like Brent does, that scared me so much because he just snapped.

I wanna talk about the scene between Darrel and dally because that scene was done in a way I’ve never seen it before by both Jpc and Josh Boone. Jpc is a much less physically intimidating Darrel. Especially compared to Josh Boone. That was taken into account by both of them which I have to give so much praise for because they did such a wonderful job. Darrel went in thinking he could push dally into revealing. He clearly had no intent to fight him. He was taunting him. But let me tell you dally knew how to play Darrel like a fiddle. He knew exactly what buttons to push in a way Darrel couldn’t. While he normally yells half that scene, dally didn’t raise his voice ONCE. He was even SMILING at the end because he wanted Darrel to swing at him. Dally loves fights and he knows he could easily win against jpc Darrel. So he played him. Decided to see how far he could push because if Darrel swung he could easily take him. Absolutely fantastic scene and lemme tell you Josh Boone calmly speaking the last bit of the scene with a smile? ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING

Now throwing in the towel. So jpc flubbed the first part and bro I’ve never been more stressed (probably not as stressed as him tho LMAO) but he managed to keep it together which I give him so much credit for. He took his anxiety and stress and used that as a focus for his acting the rest of the scene. Other actors usually play this scene as very defeated. But he was much more anxious about pony and what’s to come next. And tbh this is the most in it I’ve ever seen Jason. Now I love Jason but I have found his acting style to be more passive then I’d like in some scenes (JUST MY OPINION PLEASE DONT ATTACK ME) I think because of what happened to jpc not only was he soda trying to comfort Darrel, I saw Jason trying to comfort jpc and it made the scene so much more beautiful and strong.

Overall, jpc Darrel is wonderful. My only main issue is that I felt like he read too similar in age to Brody as ponyboy and frankly Jason read older than him. Nothing to do with his acting. Jpc is an incredible actor. But I just feel like with the cast the way they are, while he reads as Darrel’s actual age, much of the cast reads older than their characters and so this does affect how he’s seen.

I did see him as soda too, with Dan darry, and I thought he was literally like who I envisioned soda to be when I read the book. Like he gave such soda energy it was incredible

[velnna]

hello!!:D i’ve finally finished stray souls yesterday after reading it for three years and first of all thank you so much for it. and honestly for all that u create!!! you’ve been (and still are) a big inspiration for me!!

as for my question. it’s gonna be so random and don’t treat it to seriously but i’m curious. how did jo manage to get his top surgery?? 😔😔 cause i can imagine it if he was a normal human that he could just visit some sort of a medic and get it done (painful but possible). but in his case i think it must have been a bit trickier than just that.

again, it’s just pure curiosity, i understand if you’ve never thought about it lol. wanted to ask anyway xx

have a wonderful day/night!!

Oh that's okay! It's a fun little tidbit of lore, though I'm sure Jo disagrees lmao

So the way Reaper anatomy works is a bit odd, since they're a mix between physical and "ethereal" sort of creatures. They each have a blueprint for how their bodies are designed that follows vaguely human rules. When they heal, which they can do seamlessly unless they run out of energy, their flesh is reconstructed based on said blueprint (so if you, for instance, cut off a limb, said limb gets reconstructed according to the code for what it looked like before).

In addition, the healing process isn't an involuntary thing like for a human. Reapers need to consciously "command" their bodies to heal and choose the pace and amount of energy they want to spend on it. It's a little involuntary in the sense that there's a default sort of setting they all have, but with the right type of training and control they can become very good at selectively healing, or even at pushing the boundaries of what their bodies heal as.

Lastly, surgery on a Reaper is Hard. They don't respond to material anaesthetics and their flesh doesn't exactly open like a normal living creature. Any bit that you separate from the main core will disappear, including blood once it pours away.

All this to say Jo had to get too surgery with all this in mind and it was a mix of finding someone who knew how to or was willing to test it out and training himself to keep his body healed in a way that goes against that blueprint it has. Trial and error and horrifying cutting and opening with no painkillers if you will 🫥 I never said I was a benevolent god

Anyhoo sorry if that was way too long an answer, I have in fact thought about it extensively LMAO

Happy you like| stray souls! 🖤

[katemoneymartinsgf]

Training Room - Kate Martin

Summary: Kate martin x Waterpolo player fic. Multiple part story this is just kind of getting everything going

Warning: Mention of injury

a/n: Please bare with me guys this is the first time i’ve written since my wattpad days 😔 . I know my obsession with kate martin is a problem if it’s thrown me back in to writing. Also if someone wants to help me make this page presentable pls do. Hope you enjoy

—————————————

Brrrrr...

The sound of the whistle rings through the air as the sprinters swim towards the ball dropped at mid-pool.

It was overtime in the Big 10 Women’s Water Polo Championship game. The next goal scored would win the conference and secure you a spot at state.

This would be the first time in school history that Iowa’s team has ever won a conference title. You had promised your coach that you would bring a championship to this team back when you were a freshman. Obviously, it was said as a joke considering you weren’t the greatest swimmer back then.

You went into your senior year of high school barely learning about the existence of the sport, looking to get extra conditioning in before basketball season that year. Also, just interested in learning a new sport in general. Your friend, who was on the swim team, encouraged you to join so you guys could spend more time together. She taught you how to swim and you caught on quick. Since it was a very young team, you earned yourself a starting spot, soon falling in love with the game. With some help from the coaches and putting together a highlight tape, you caught the eye of Iowa's head coach, who offered you a spot not too long after.

Iowa's polo team was very new and they wanted to build. You were perfect for the team: a fast learner who was passionate and competitive in everything you did.

You didn’t take it right away, hoping an offer for basketball would be coming soon, but to be honest, it was either water polo for Iowa or the JUCO route for basketball.

After thinking about how quickly you fell in love with the sport, you couldn’t turn the offer down.

A freshman who couldn’t tread water properly to four years later being in the last minutes of a conference title game.

Your friend, Jade, had possession of the ball and passed it back to the goalie. You swam to the top of the pool and got the ball passed into you.

You were immediately fouled and the whistle was blown for the defender to back away. You knew that if you got the ball stolen it was an easy 1-on-1 against your goalie.

This defender had been on your ass all game. She had gotten away with drowning and kicking you the entire time.

Your teammates were all being face-guarded so you had no choice but to get around her yourself. You took a mental note of the shot clock before turning her and swimming straight down the middle of the pool, dribbling towards the goal.

“YOU, YOU. YOU.” You heard your coach scream as you had a clear path to the goal.

The crowd erupted at the move as you got on your hips and motioned to pass the ball to your teammate, Keira. The defender jumped towards her and you faked the ball and turned to aim straight at the corner of the goal. As you rose out of the water to take the shot, you felt a hand tug on your shoulder, you felt and immediate tearing pain You yelped in pain as you dropped the ball and immediately went underwater.

You didn’t think about swimming up, gripping onto your shoulder in pain. You can’t remember much after that when the last things you felt was a player’s foot hit your head as you lost consciousness.

…..

“What happened to her?” a voice asked softly as you stirred awake.

“She got shaken up pretty badly at the polo game,” you recognized the voice of your athletic trainer as you looked to see who she was talking to.

“I think she’s awake,” the girl said.

“Go get her some more ice, please,” the trainer said before turning to you and immediately asking you how you are feeling.

“Try not to move too fast. How’s your head feeling?”

“Did we win?” you asked, wondering how the game ended.

“Y/N, that’s not important right now. How’s your…”

“My head is fine. Did we win?”

“No, the game’s still going on but you need to…” You moved immediately, ready to leave the room and head back to the pool deck.

She puts her arms in front to stop you and you look back at her in confusion. This was the championship game; how could you not be out there?

“You can’t leave. You really need to stay sitting down; you hit your head pretty hard. It’s not good for you to be up right now.”

“Please, I have to see the end of it. This could be my last game,” you pleaded.

“I can go out there and get you an update, but you need to stay here. Deal?”

You nodded with a little attitude behind it, closing your eyes and leaning your head back.

"Also, I was kicked; I didn’t just 'hit my head,'" you stated.

“Drop the attitude, kid. Kate’s bringing you ice. Safety first, always,” she said before walking out.

You relaxed a little, understanding that she was just trying to help. You’ve grown really close to Regina. She's 100% your favorite trainer and she’s learned how to manage your stubbornness.

“Here, this should help," Kate said, her voice soft but firm.

"Thanks," you replied, pressing the ice to your shoulder. You glanced up, meeting Kate's gaze.

It didn’t fully register with you that this was Kate Martin. If you were in any other state you would be freaking out.

Kate hesitated, then sat down on the chair next to you. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, this is good," you said, then added nervously, "What about you? Aren't you busy with practice?"

Kate shrugged. "Practice just ended. I was supposed to ice and heat, but I guess I got roped into being your ice delivery."

You laughed softly, wincing slightly from the pain. "Well, thanks for the delivery. I owe you one."

Kate smiled, a bit shyly. "It's no problem. I’m just glad to help."

An awkward silence settled between you. Both girls fidgeted, neither sure what to say next. Finally, you broke the silence. "So, you play basketball, right? I’ve seen you on the court. You're really good."

"Yeah, thanks. I’ve seen you play a little too. You’re amazing out there," Kate responded, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

"Really? Thanks," you said, your heart beating a little faster. It didn’t make any sense to you that she knew who you were. "This is my last season, so I’m trying to make it count."

"I understand. It's my senior year too," Kate said, her voice tinged with a mix of pride and nostalgia. "It's a lot of pressure."

"Yeah," you agreed, nodding slightly. "But it's also exciting, right? Knowing you’re giving it your all."

Kate looked at you, admiration in her eyes. "Absolutely. And it looks like you were doing just that before... well, you know.”

You chuckled, despite the pain. "Yeah, that defender really did a number on me. i can’t stand her”

Kate's expression softened. "I'm sorry that happened. I hope you’ll be okay for the next game."

"Me too," you said, trying to stay positive. "If there even is one."

As if on cue, the door opened, and Regina walked in. She glanced at both of you, then at you.

"I’ve got an update," she said.

"You’re not cleared to go back in. I’m sorry."

“No shit” you thought. You didn’t expect to go back in, obviously; you were knocked unconscious. It’s honestly a miracle you aren’t in the hospital right now.

"But," she said, her voice filled with excitement, "You won! You’re a Big Ten champ, kid!"

Your eyes widened in disbelief, a rush of joy flooding through you despite the pain. You turned to Kate, a radiant smile lighting up your face.

"We won?" you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement.

Kate's own smile mirrored yours. "That's amazing! Congratulations, Y/N!"

The trainer nodded, her grin widening.

You and Kate shared a moment of shared jubilation, your eyes sparkling with pride and happiness.

Soon your team came flooding into the room with their Big Ten champ hats on.

You hadn’t noticed you were holding onto Kate’s hand until she pulled away.

“Congrats again, I’ll be at the next game for sure," she said before walking away. A small blush formed on your face as you watched her walk away with a smile.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Jade pulled you into a hug.

“CAREFUL, SHE'S FRAGILE RIGHT NOW,” Regina scolded.

———————————

a/n: again i’m new at this, literally my first time eve posting any fic on tumblr so any help is appreciated.

[bits-and-babs]

i have this idea for joel miller, where him and the reader spend some time together practicing following the rules, since the reader has been lacking im that department, but during that time joel takes it upon himself to find your most sensitive spots and it eventually turns into an overstimulation session where you still gotta follow his rules and hes having the time of his life just ruining you 🖤

-ˋˏ 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 ˎˊ-

— pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

— word count: 1k

— warnings: Dom/Sub themes, very light verbal degradation, a little impact play, fingering, use of the honorific ‘Sir’, overstimulation— phew! Very 18+, ya nasties.

joel miller masterlist I| main masterlist |I send me an ask

“Discipline ain’t your strong suit, is it, Darlin’?”

You shake your head slightly— as much as you can, considering your chest is pressed to the mattress, arms bound behind your back by Joel binding your wrists with his hand. He has you leaned across the bed, toes to the floor. It’s stiff and a little awkward, but you just about manage. “No, Sir.”

Your admission doesn’t match your submissive headspace; muscles slack and vulnerable to the palm that Joel slowly smooths over the curve of your ass.

“You’re going to be quiet for me.”

It’s not a request. It’s an order. Joel’s tone is firm, his voice gravelly as he digs his fingerprints into the flesh of your ass. It smarts slightly, capillaries bursting and blooming beneath in a bruise.

You swallow thickly, immediately falling in line. No verbal response, just a simple nod seems to suffice, because Joel is beginning his cruel torture already as he begins to glide his fingertips over your clothed cunt. He starts at your entrance, up and over your clit. You hold in the sigh that threatens to breach your lips.

“Greedy already,” he murmurs, voice a husk as he holds his hands out before your face. Wetness clings to his fingerprints, glistening under the light. You chew on the inside of your cheek, tilting your head slightly to look at him through your lashes. “Greediest little cunt I’ve ever seen.”

Joel’s fingers dip beneath the crotch of your panties, slipping his middle finger inside of you with such ease that it rocks your consciousness. Your eyelids flutter, and a silent moan catches in your throat. Quiet.

He hums in appreciation at your tight, wet heat, easing his finger in and out of you before slipping in another. Your hips rise from the mattress, balancing on your toes as you rock back onto him.

“Barely touchin’ you, and you’re already misbehavin’,” he points out, his tone clipped. It makes you want to apologise, your heart leaping out of your chest, but you hear his order replay in your head. ‘Quiet’. You smother your appeals.

You feel red hot, your face burning from his attention. The wet sound of your cunt swallowing his fingers practically drowns out your laboured breathing, and you hear a tsk sound from behind you.

“So desperate. Ain’t even noticed how noisy you’re being.”

Joel sounds so close, your brain lagging in realising that his mouth is right beside your ear. He presses a kiss into the soft flesh just below, nipping at the skin so hard it will surely leave a bruise in the morning. He twists his fingers inside you simultaneously, pressing up against something that makes your bones vibrate.

“Auhhh-“ you moan loudly, unable to hold the noise within.

Joel punishes you for it.

His palm collides with your ass sharply. The sound of the slap rips through the room, and your wail of anguish quickly follows. Your skin stings beneath it, prickling hot and smarting. His hand would undoubtedly leave a print, branding you like a cattle iron.

“Hm,” Joel huffs, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as he presses his arousal into the tingling skin of your ass. “What did I tell you?”

“T-To be quiet,” you squeak.

“Not a sound,” he reminds you, his hands coming up between your abdomen and the mattress to squeeze at the mound of your breasts. Joel’s chest drapes over your back as he takes your earlobe between his teeth. His clothed cock grinds at your entrance, granting you enough friction to tease your neglected cunt while pinching at your nipples.

It fires off nerve endings across your body, your forehead slumping onto the mattress when the pressure begins mounting in your guts.

“But this-“ he pauses, working his fingers inside you so you can hear the wet, slurping sound of your pussy, “This is a sound I don’t mind.”

The buttons of his flannel bury into the skin pulled across your spine, skin aching from the pressure and the circular indents it leaves. Your jaw is agape, throat loose in an attempt to prevent any moans or whines from slipping out of your lungs.

“Such a sloppy cunt, Sugar. Can feel that you like that- is it this, here?”

He works his fingers against that obliterating part inside you. You gasp loudly, the sound pulling itself out of you before you have the chance to swallow it back down.

“So hard for you to be quiet, isn’t it?”

Suddenly, his thumb is pushed against your clit, flicking back across it at an immobilising pace. Your legs give out beneath you, hips falling against the mattress as you cum, a tingling warmth flooding your body and crashing over you all at once.

“Ffuh-fuhck-“ you slur, eyes rolling back as your peak dips. Joel doesn’t relent. His thumb continues to brutalise your throbbing clit, his fingers pistoning in and out of you and drilling into that mind-shattering spot. “Fuck-fuckfuckfuck, stop- Sir, pleasestopplease-“

You’re sobbing, fat tears tearing down your cheeks. The wet noises of your cunt bounce off the walls, and Joel groans softly as he watches your hips squirm against the bed.

“Nuh-uh. Get back here,” he scolds when you try to fight him, try to get away. Gripping your wrists tighter, he yanks you back into position, releasing you only to force your hips to stay and bear down on your overstimulated pleasure points.

“Please please, pleasepleaseplease,” you beg him loudly, your raised volume edging towards a scream as you sob around the syllable of his name. “Joel I can’t! Ican’tIcan’t, Joel!”

“You’re a greedy thing, ain’t you? You always want one more from me. I’m givin’ it to you.”

Your mind goes blank, words you thought to shout to force him to capitulate turning to a static buzz as he pushes his fingers up against your g-spot.

“What is it?” He asks, sounding almost bored.

“Iiiiuhh-“ you keen, you moan. It’s long, high pitched and loud enough that you’re sure half of Jackson can hear you fail to form a coherent sentence with Joel’s fingers buried knuckles deep inside of you.

“What happened to bein’ quiet, Darlin’? Did I make it difficult for you?” His voice twangs with amusement, enjoying watching you suffer like this.

It forces a hiccup from your throat when you cum a second time, cracking through you and wracking your exhausted muscles until you scream.

END

-

[ddarker-dreams]

As someone who loves writing and is somehow weak at it , I have to ask for advice. You've a captivating way of words , with a certain rhythm to them that snap in a unified tempo (I tend to relate literature with music). But enough of my bickering, what helps you to be such a good writer ? Are there any authors that inspire your style of writing.Have you taken any classes, or are you just someone who started to write since they were little ? Especially because you're incredible at replicating the attitudes/personality of characters . Is there a process you follow ?

Those are so many questions in one 😭 but again, thank you for putting pretty words out into the world

(I leave you this constipated looking horse)

aaa thank you so much!!! 😭😭😭

reading this ask made my day … i’ll go ahead and split up my response so i can best address your questions!! 

writing history

i’ve been obsessed with stories for my entire life tbh. ever since i was a little lock, after finishing a movie/tv show/what have you, it’d linger with me past the end credits. i’d spend hours thinking up new scenarios for the characters based on the rules of their world. i made stories throughout my childhood but it wasn’t until i was about 11 that i began dabbling with fanfiction. i’ve been writing rather consistently since then. 

writing inspiration(s) 

i’d say that the horror genre has influenced me the most over any particular author. i’ve always been fascinated by the macabre. there’s no other genre that’s so consistently captured my attention across every iteration of media (movies, tv shows, video games, books, music, etc). the stories are oftentimes unsightly, disturbing, and raw in how they convey their themes, which leaves a lasting impact. 

getting more specific, the gothic subgenre has been a primary inspiration to me these past few years. some of my favorite elements in gothic literature are isolation, omens, heightened emotions, repression, oppression, decay, and tragedy, to name a few. i try to create this sense of something being ‘off’ to keep the reader engaged as the story unravels. i start with what i’d personally find interesting and build from there. all of my stories were born from simple concepts that evolve as i flesh them out. 

additionally, my writing is very character-driven. i’ve learned the most about this strand of storytelling from my favorite author, fyodor dostoevsky. i could rave about the techniques he utilizes, but the two i find most important are;

stream-of-consciousness type inner monologues

dialectic exchanges between characters with opposing beliefs

this also influences how i go about characterization. putting characters under stress is a useful way to highlight who they are at their core. everything branches off that, whether it be what they do or don't say, their body language, etc. i often like putting characters in situations that serve as a personal challenge. whether their beliefs hold up under scrutiny or they start to bend — there are a lot of interesting paths to take.

ultimately, characterization takes time and will vary depending on the story you're writing.

i hope that any of this is helpful GJWNMEKFNW thank you once again for the words of encouragement !!!!

[sunderingstars]

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✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ EIDOLONS ⌝

sampo analysis m.list

— what the stars reveal: interpretative analysis, heavily aha!sampo

— word count: 3k (can you tell i'm an english major? :3)

— overview: (as of 2.3) hello and welcome back to sampo theory time! this time, i’ll be looking at his eidolons, their names & art, and how they might factor in to his overarching identity and story. there will be a few conclusions i reference in this post (like eidolons progressing in a linear narrative), so if you want more on that, i highly recommend reading my eidolon names as narratives and eidolon art as facets of character posts first! it’s not required reading though (god i sound like a professor) — otherwise, enjoy!

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To begin, I would like to humbly say this post will likely be the most nerdy thing I’ve ever posted in my life. I have written entire paragraphs about two singular words for this. Two words. And I have even more I can say about them! But anyways, just a heads up, this is the type of thing you’d probably see spoken by a stereotypical “nerd” archetype in a high school movie. But without further ado, let’s get started!

(Yes, I am sad that I still only have him at E2 despite pulling every time he’s on a banner. And both of these are from event character selectors :))

My main thesis for this analysis is that Sampo’s eidolons follow a similar narrative structure to other eidolon sets in that they start with his backstory and progress to the present (and open-ended future) of where we are in the story; additionally, the placement of these names with the facets of his eidolon art add to further implications for his personality and development. This can lend itself to multiple of my theories — the main ones I will be interpreting for are Aha!Sampo, Emanator!Sampo / Functional Aha, and Dual Consciousness!Sampo.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ AHA!SAMPO ⌝

Starting with Aha!Sampo, I interpret these eidolons as beginning at his “rise” to Aeonhood, then following through to him “spending” some kind of cost in the present/future for whatever his plans are. 

“Rising Love,” his E1, has two important components — “rising” and “love.” “Rising” seems the most obvious to me, as Aeons have been referenced to “fall” before, so it makes sense that they would also be able to “rise.” Additionally, Himeko has explained that Aeons “ascended from the form of intelligent beings” (Parlor Car Dialogue); beyond “ascend” being a direct synonym of “rise,” this shows that Aeons can come from physical and perhaps even humanoid beings. In fact, Aha’s lore in the data bank, while not explicitly stating that Aha used to be mortal, implies the “climbing” of the tree of existence and laughing, which is a very human act. (However, it is good to keep in mind that this is a parable told by the Masked Fools, and given the nature of Elation factions may not be entirely truthful.) In this way, “ascend” and “rise” may be interchangeable, and the “birth” of an Aeon could also refer to the “rise” of a mortal to Aeonic status.

Next is “love.” For this we need to think not as followers of a Path, but as an Aeon Themself. While it may be easy to think “If he’s Aha, it should say rising elation” — 1. That might be a bit too obvious from a writing standpoint and 2. From an Aeonic perspective, Aha may very well view “Elation” as “love.” They may view spreading Laughter throughout the universe as the ultimate form of love, and as such “rising love” could refer to the rising of a being capable of dispersing “love” (Elation) on a wide scale throughout the universe.

After the ascension, or “rise,” to Aeonhood comes Sampo’s E2, “Infectious Enthusiasm.” This is one of the more obvious ones in my opinion, as “infectious” implies a status capable of imposing itself on others — influencing them in ways that are perhaps beyond mortal comprehension — and “enthusiasm” is closely linked to “Elation” both in wording (starting with the letter E) and in connotation. “Enthusiasm” and “Elation” are both high-energy words, carrying the idea of excitement and even mania. I would view this as “Aha proper,” in which Sampo has come into his full identity as an Aeon and is thus capable of dispersing “infectious enthusiasm” onto others (Pathstriders). (Aha is also directly described as having “infectious enthusiasm” in the Simulated Universe!)

“Big Money!”, his E3, is particularly interesting to me because it seems like an intrusion — a departure from the other, more grounded names. The exclamation mark especially lends itself to the exact kind of “infectious enthusiasm” present in his E2, to some kind of encroachment on his previous mortal existence. This ties into my compulsory existence theory, in which Aeons by nature live in a sort of compulsive state, needing to adhere to their given “concept” just by virtue of existence; this is heavily influenced by the game’s discussion of “Primum Mobile”s, or the idea of “restrictions” that come from existing as an Aeon. Aeons that ascend from mortal beings would experience the brunt of this, as their previous state would essentially be overwritten by this eldritch, compulsive concept. 

I think “Big Money!” could symbolize such a change in Sampo. After ascending to Aeonhood from a potentially mortal form, intrusive thoughts of Elation encroach on his very being — the feeling of momentary thrill, of “Big Money!” — likely leading him into his next state: “the deeper the love, the stronger the hate”.

I’m not going to lie, I’m absolutely in love with the name for Sampo’s E4. It links back to so many aspects of his character in a way that sets up an amazing juxtaposition between his outward appearance and inward feelings in so few words! For me, “The Deeper The Love, The Stronger The Hate” highly relates to compulsory existence. As we see in Aha’s splash art, the smiling masks — the Elation, the “Love” — are always at the front in the spotlight, while the frowning masks — the sadness, the “Hate” — tend to be obscured in the background by shadow. 

In a compulsory existence, I can’t imagine how horrible it must be to constantly be forced into performing a singular emotion or concept. In all likelihood, these negative emotions are barely able be felt at all, leading to extremely repressed layers of fear, anger, sadness and, yes, “hate.” “The stronger the love” — the stronger the Elation — means more repression, more hiding, a stronger fermentation of despising one’s own existence lingering in the background like shadowed masks — “the stronger the hate.” In this way, I believe Sampo’s E4 may convey this dual existence, of an existence where one side is so deeply, powerfully out-of-proportion with the other that any emotion from the other side is left to fester unchecked below the surface. 

(Note: The name could also be referencing the talent level-up, which would show the self-aware aspect of his character. This would apply to his E5 as well.)

This hate, of course, is then covered up by “Huuuuge Money!” (E5), because we can’t have those feelings swirling around in a being of pure Elation, can we? they must be taken out with the trash, overshadowed with yet another encroachment of exclamation marks and the thrill of sudden gains. After Sampo’s rise to Aeonhood, it must’ve been a constant battle between these underlying negative feelings and his compulsory, Elated existence — and given the linear progression of most eidolons, this must’ve been a pattern that repeated for millennia, over and over and over again, one he can never escape or solve. Perhaps it still is. 

Which is why, in his E6 “Increased Spending,” I believe Sampo may be “paying a cost” to try to alleviate this issue. Whether by becoming mortal, sectioning off his power to others, passing along his title, or any other number of potential solutions I don’t know, but I feel like he is turning his compulsive nature of Elation to the thrill of the “cost” in the hope of changing some part of this ever-chaotic, ever-stagnating existence. Either that, or it is to further a master plan we the audience don’t know about.

Overall, in terms of Aha!Sampo, I interpret these eidolons of tracking his rise to Aeonhood through his compulsory existence and fermenting self-hatred, all the way to “increased spending” trying to find a way around this problem.

Now, let’s take this a step further and add his eidolon art into the mix. This is where I’ll start to get into some of the conclusions I discussed in my eidolon art as facets of character post.

E1 (Rising Love): Keeping in mind “rising” as potentially referring to the rise of an Aeon and “love” as potentially referring to Aha’s idea of Elation, I see this figure as an ascending or untouchable silhouette; “walking” (or perhaps more aptly, climbing) into a new role. It also creates a distance between a potential “past” mortal form and a “current” Aeonic or ascended one.

E2 (Infectious Enthusiasm): I find it so interesting that “Infectious Enthusiasm” was chosen for the eye-centered eidolon. Since “Infectious Enthusiasm” is so, well, Aha-coded, this matches with the conclusions of first impressions and inciting incident from my eidolon art post. I believe this eye is meant to represent the first true “glimpse” of Aha people get — it is very close to the face without being too personal. It also spotlights Sampo’s unique facial features, mainly the almost condescending furrow of his brow. However, the eye itself has deep shadows, most likely referencing the dual hate within his being. This would be the “inciting incident” of Sampo in his Aeonhood proper, at the height of his power.

(Note: “Infectious” + the focus of an eye may further imply the presence of a “gaze” and the ability to distribute power in an Aeonic way.)

E3 (Big Money!): E3s are by far the most character-specific eidolon, with each character interacting with an important object to them. I feel like money is only fitting for Sampo, since it matches both the eidolon name and his obsession with making money. It very much leans into the “con-man” aspect of his character, and would make sense as the way acquaintances or those he keeps at arm’s length would view him (probably his customers).

I also find it extremely interesting how he is looking down. We see this a lot throughout his mannerisms and idles, with him always seeming to have a condescension that looks “down” on others below him. While this could be just another facet of his character, it also matches up with the way an Aeon may view the mortals around them — no matter how close They get to someone, that someone will always be “below” Them. It’s not even a conscious decision, just a natural byproduct of Aeonic existence, much like casting Their gaze down to bestow power on Pathstriders. Whether Sampo has become truly mortal at this point or not, it’s probably a bad habit to kick regardless. (I would also love to point out how him looking down at the money is also reminiscent of this (albeit more nostalgic and “loving”) face he makes towards Sparkle, a whole human being:)

E4 (The Deeper The Love, The Stronger The Hate): Here, we zoom in even more on his personality. Beyond the superficial impressions people get from seeing him at a glance, we have now entered a more complex emotional understanding — his eye, unlike in his E2, is more faded and shadowed, the hand scratching his head and his smile pointing towards a sort of “act” he puts on for others. This shows multiple dimensions of him: both the charismatic, smiling con-man, and the hatred lurking beneath that façade’s surface. This would be in a more present timeline, highlighting his “fake” and mysterious nature as well as how he is portrayed to people who know him better like friends. It shows a clear dissatisfaction with the façade he has to put up; whether the “love” is also a true emotion to him is up for debate, but either way this eidolon has him balancing between these two sides of his being (potentially balancing between an eldritch and mortal consciousness, or dealing with the aftermath and residual power of a past Aeonhood). (He also seems to be looking down at the spot the masks would match up with if the silhouette was looking down in Aha’s splash art — it is possible that this “hate” refers to the hate he has for his power or the power of the masks. Or, perhaps, this looking down is a general way to symbolize a being of higher power looking down on those below them like Pathstriders.)

E5 (Huuuuge Money!): This eidolon is more casual and comfortable than the others — there seems to be no dual-sided hate, nor does there seem to be as prominent of a focus on obsessive moneymaking in the art itself (the name is a different story). Instead, the main focus is drawn to Sampo’s outfit, the moniker of his existence in Belobog. The upper half of his face is still cut off, but the art seems to be hinting at a potential comfortability in Belobog, as well as the future mystery of his true identity (and if he will choose “Sampo Koski” as his real self). I actually love this combination, because it shows how Sampo may be at his most casual in Belobog; it’s clear he’s made real connections with the people there, and regardless of his motives, it seems to be a place he deeply cares about. This would be his appearance to close friends, most likely those aforementioned connections in Belobog like Natasha or Seele. (However, the looming encroachment of “Huuuuge Money!” still hangs in the air, perhaps signaling a bigger issue with Aeonic consciousness persisting despite his best efforts.)

E6 (Increased Spending): Finally, we get to the core essence of Sampo’s being. This is him at his most vulnerable, his appearance to only a select few special people. His head is tilted, his neck bared, showing clear trust and confidence in this position. The main thing of note here is the similarities between E6 and Aha’s splash art — the same pose and build with a different tilt.

This would mean that Sampo’s identity as Aha is his most vulnerable form of being — the fact of others knowing who he truly is, of wading through his personable exterior to reach the truth at the core of him, is a privilege only a trusted few get. This most likely points towards the “cost” implied by “increased spending,” the idea that, for whatever reason, Sampo’s true identity being revealed at the wrong time or too soon would put him in a less-than-ideal situation. As such, it is something he holds close to his chest (at least in Belobog) either willingly or unwillingly. (Note: This could also reference a past identity as Aha, it does not necessarily have to be something he experiences currently.)

It also shows that the silhouette in the splash art is the “core essence” of either Sampo, Aha, or both. Beyond the masks (much like Sampo’s façade) lies a deeper, truer version of who Aha is. The true Sampo is not the masks or the smiles or the laughs, but the shadowed figure beyond them, the silhouette that holds the hidden emotions of an Aeon.

I would also like to point out that, on the whole, Sampo’s eidolons (and kit in general) focuses on damage over time. Interpretations can be varied, but I personally like to think this further references the idea of “cost,” and that staying in mortal form as Sampo may be hurting him over time just like his DOTs affect others!

Overall, the art for these eidolons paired with the names create a fuller picture of who Sampo might be and what he might be hiding. There are a lot of hidden clues and implications that can be applied to several different interpretations, and I tried to account for multiple in my analysis! The standouts for me are his E2, E3, and E6, but that’s just because of personal preference. Before I conclude, I want to briefly interpret these eidolons for some non-Aha!Sampo theories.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ ALTERNATIVE INTERPRETATIONS ⌝

There are other interpretations to be had, namely Emanator!Sampo and Dual Consciousness!Sampo. Many of the points I made for Aha!Sampo can be applied to Emanator!Sampo, as we know Aha is both capable and willing to give others entire mastery over Their path for shits and giggles. It is possible that Sampo, as either an Emanator or a “functional” Aha or both, could have a similar “rise,” “infection,” and compulsory existence as a result of Emanator status. Additionally, any kind of dual consciousness where Aha is trying to impose Their will on Sampo could contribute to the constant push-and-pull of two schools of emotions — even minds. We could read this as a more literal encroachment of Aha on Sampo’s mindspace, quite literally trying to force Elation into his brain while Sampo’s consciousness fights back. In this way, the “love” and “hate” mentioned could refer to more of Sampo’s feelings towards Aha as a separate or encroaching entity, rather than himself or his own existence.

(Note: This could also work for Aha!Sampo where Aha’s power & status is passed down or won like a sort of crown or title — a “mask” if you will — and Sampo is the latest inheritor/receiver of it. The eidolons would then track from a more recent experience of receiving power and dealing with the encroachment that comes with it. I think it would also lend to much more fear and confusion as this new existence would be a stark departure from Sampo’s previous mortal life.)

(Note 2: Electric Boogaloo: This could also work with a “transformation” theory where Sampo’s more human form and his eldritch-Aha counterpart have two distinct mind spaces, and the “encroachment” of “Big Money!” and “Huuuuge Money!” could be indicative of the literal mental change that happens when he transforms, leading to increased spending (or the “cost”) of him trying to stay in human form as much as possible because he doesn’t like what he becomes when he changes.)

(Note 3: I promise this is the last one: It is also possible that Aha has sectioned off these feelings of “hate” into a separate being — i.e. Sampo — and “The Deeper The Love, The Stronger The Hate” shows that how despite being separate physical beings, Aha and Sampo share an emotional space in which the “love” of Aha directly influences the severity of the “hate” in Sampo. Just a thought.)

Anyways, I find these eidolons super cool! I love how Sampo flips through his bills in his E3 and how his E6 mirrors the silhouette in Aha’s splash art. Even if the Aha! or Emanator!Sampo theories don’t end up being true, there’s some really cool psychological stuff going on that could speak broadly to his relationship with money, gambling, and his own self-image.

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ if you read this far, thank you for doing so! it means a lot to me when people take the time to listen to my silly little theories, so yes, thank you! if you have anything else you want to add or if you just want to talk about these theories (which i am happy to do at literally any time) my askbox is open! hope you enjoyed my nerdy rambling :3

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© analysis by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[autumnmobile12]

Helluva Boss S2 Trailer:  “You don’t love mother and you don’t love me!”

I have a problem with this line, and I’ve had a problem with Octavia’s character for awhile now, so I’m going to talk about it.

To cut her some slack, her house and family life is a mess.  Fighting parents, cheating dad, feeling neglected by both parents, and she’s a teenager on top of that.  I get it.  Moody, angsty teen with a really good reason for being moody and angsty.

And Stolas isn’t blameless in all this.  With the cheating, he’s actively a problem, but we can see that he loves his ‘little owlet.’  But he is a terrible father.  In the Seeing Stars episode, I thought that it was going to be a lot more Stolas and Octavia-centric on their relationship, but no.  He and Blitzo spend most of the time looking for her just dicking around in some human comedy act when they really didn’t need to be there.  Seriously, it wouldn’t have been the first time Blitzo massacred a group of humans to get out of an awkward situation, but if Stolas is so concerned about his daughter, then why didn't he do something about their situation? If he loves his daughter so much, why is he okay with this distraction? He's not even the one who gets him out of it in the end.  That was the first time Helluva Boss actually disappointed me.  I don’t think the brief bit of backstory we got with Blitzo and Loona justified the rest of that whole bit, so it was really pointless.  That piece could have been handled better.

Throughout the Stolitz ship, Stolas is 100% ignoring Octavia.  But terrible dad aside, the line from the Season 2 trailer, “You don’t love Mother and you don’t love me!” should be emotional.

Except…. “You don’t love Mother….”

…why would he?

Does Octavia not see what a violent, toxic bitch her mom is?  She has seen her screaming, getting violent, and throwing things. I suppose Octavia could have the opinion that Stella's anger is justified with the cheating and all, but then that explanation implies she thinks reacting violently like that is acceptable behavior. And let’s not forget Stella straight up ordered a hit on Stolas, which nearly succeeded.  Does Octavia not know about this?  Again, Stolas being a terrible dad for not taking steps to get the daughter he supposedly loves away from the psycho who ordered an assassination, but did none of this get back to Octavia?

Not that any of it makes Stolas' infidelity okay. If you're unhappy in a relationship, leave it. But with the way Stella behaves, there's no rational way Octavia can expect her parents to love each other. It sucks to be the child in that position, especially a teen still figuring things out, but that is very much an 'it is what it is' situation and you gotta make the best of it in whatever way you can.

As it stands, it isn't fair for Octavia to entirely blame Stolas for their family falling apart.

"You don't love mother and you don't love me," makes it sound like Octavia is consciously choosing her violent, narcissistic witch of mother over her dad. This also doesn't make sense with the plot because there's no sign of Octavia having a close relationship with her mom. There are no portraits of them together in a loving embrace as we see with her and Stolas. Plus, Stella doesn't care about Octavia. The only two times in the show she vaguely mentions her is as the 'one egg that finally dropped out of her' and when she and Andrealphus are discussing the inheritance that will go to Octavia. She doesn't care about Stolas either. The only effect the cheating had on her was the idea of public embarrassment for their family.

Neither of Octavia's parents care for her the way they should, so for the, "You don't love mother and you don't love me," line to work to its fullest impact, it should have been phrased as, “You don’t love me!  Neither you or Mom love me!”

I do love Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel…but Octavia’s character is really poorly handled.  I remember it being said in an interview that Helluva Boss does have heavier focus on its male characters while Hazbin Hotel was supposed to be more female-centric, but when it comes to Octavia, that structure in the storytelling is crumbling under its own weight. There is a story here and it has some major gaps that need addressing.

To give them some benefit of doubt, maybe this’ll be addressed in an episode before that line hits, so maybe it’ll make more sense. Or they could make it clear she said it out of anger.  At least, I hope so because I really need some righteous retribution for how Stolas behaves with his daughter.

...

Edit for clarity: The point of this post is a criticism of the lack of story we get for Octavia that justifies her motives, not a criticism of why she herself behaves the way that she does. The dysfunctional family is heavy stuff and since it is a front and center issue with Stolas' background, it needs more attention than the series gives it.

[dixonsstinkysock]

In God’s hands.

A/N: I had this dream about Daryl being kidnapped and perceived as jesus…like being hung up on the cross and everything, very strange. He was trying to convince them he wasn’t who they thought he was—idek don’t ask. Gave me this idea, also paired with all the Ethel Cain I’ve been listening to…

“These crosses all over my body

Remind me of who I used to be

Give myself up to him in offering

Let him make a woman out of me”

This wasn’t the first time Daryl had fell asleep standing but…this hurt more. Hushed whispers—prayers could be heard in the large church. A community. Hundreds on men, women, even children were gathered on their knees. Praying, maybe even begging, for forgiveness of their sins. Not even barely coming to, a burning, throbbing sensation flowing through Daryl’s hands, arms, legs and feet. His eyes were dry, throat dryer, sweating bullets with the pounding headache from the crown of thorns piercing his head.

Daryl didn’t cry often, only for the sweetest or most dreadful moments. Glenn’s death, His marriage, the birth of his first son, the death of his first son…

All of a few tears he could muster, the burning sensation in his eyes growing. He could barely see, but he could hear. Screams of men, women, and children were haunting, reminding him of his boy’s death. How his mother wailed, how she couldn’t let go of his small body. He wasn’t small…no, he just turned seventeen. He looked small to Daryl, so tiny and frail…

Daryl could hear the women’s prayers, begging to be forgiven—begging for their children to be saved from this cruel world.

“I'm just a child, but I'm not above violence

My mama raised me better than that

When the preacher talks, that man demands his silence

And daddy said, "Shoot first, then run and don't look back"”

Daryl didn’t have the best childhood, his mother burnt her and their house to the ground when he was only five, Merle left a little after that to get away from their abusive father, Daryl could only dream he would’ve took him with him. Unfortunately, he was stuck with his drunk old man, teaching him how to sneak around, how to defend himself, how to run away. He cried for his mommy when it first started, for Merle…he didn’t understand.

The town’s pastor would visit everyone every saturday before church on sunday. He tended to spend more time at Daryl’s trailer than anyone else, he could feel the tense air when he had only knocked on the front door. A young boy with no mother, no brother, and a shady father barely coherent most days.

Everyone knew the Dixons business. Hard not to when the town has barely over 20 people. The preacher tried to help Daryl from a distance, well…more like recruit. He would tell him that God would fix everything, that he would heal the broken and lead the lost. Buncha’ bullshit is what Daryl thought. God never stopped the fists coming down on him night and day, God never stopped the leather belt from breaking the skin on his back, God never stopped his own father from almost killing him. He did, he was the one who ran away, he was the one who hid, not God.

“So take me down to the river

And bathe me clean

Put me on the back of your white horse to ride

All the way to the chapel, let you wash all over me”

It felt like hours until Daryl awoke again, now breathing easier and pain in his body subsiding briefly. The sound of horse hooves stepping against the ground were what was first heard, then a short low whistle. Some type of signal?

Everything felt soft, and warm, a contrast to the cold and hard surface he was previously on. He felt clean, not caked in dirt, mud or blood anymore. The gentle breeze blows the brunette wavy hair from his face, calming him as he unwillingly falls out of consciousness again.

“I've killed before and I'll kill again

Take the noose off, wrap it tight around my hand

They say, "Heaven hath no fury like a woman scorned"

And baby, Hell don't scare me, I've been times before”

Now clothed and fed, recovering in the small, cluttered room, he could do nothing but stare at the ceiling. Waiting…

Every now and then someone would come in to keep him company, to talk and show they meant no harm, gain a strong bond between each other. They needed it if they were all going to survive.

She was new—not new to the group but this was her first time coming to see him. Her name was (Y/N), she was strong, held herself well. You have to in this world, the dead was walking now, it was their world, all the living could do was try to make it out alive.

After their first meeting, she started to bring some of his meals, their talks lasting until after dark—or at least that’s what she said. Their hideout was underground, no windows, no easy ways in…or out. Daryl wasn’t clear to start walking again so he was stuck in this bed. All of their chats slowly melt together, not seeing the light of day seemed to have a large impact on Daryl. But, her most recent visit stuck with him, something about what she said…

“Still can’t wrap my head around what’s happened…I mean, they saw me as their sign? That after everything, their God would come save them now…” Daryl slightly adjusted the pillow behind him, sitting up and eating was about the only movement he could get nowadays.

“I ain’t no savior, I’ve killed before…that sure as hell wasn’t holy.”

“You might not be free from all sins but who is? You kill to survive, that doesn’t make you a bad man. It makes you a survivor.” She smirks “At least you aren’t afraid to be banished to the depths of hell” She says, obviously mocking the cult’s words.

He softly chucked with her, “Yeah…Hell don’t scare me, I’ve already been.”

“So take me down to the river

And bathe me clean

Put me on the back of your white horse to ride

All the way to the chapel, let you wash all over me”

“I’ll try to make this as comfortable as possible for you” (Y/N) takes Daryl’s arm into hers, gently but firmly helping him down from the white, shire horse.

“Thanks but…let’s just get this over with.”

The sun’s reflection off the lake gave him a little bit of privacy as she delicately scrubbed his old and worn body. Daryl had finally been given the clear to start walkimg again, the injuries in his feet now healed a considerable amount.

The warm water felt like heaven paired with the light scrubbing of the torn rag. Daryl looked down at her body, now noticing many deep scars littering her chest and arms.

“They uh…they got ahold of me once. The cult…same ones who got you.”

“These crosses all over my body

Remind me of who I used to be

And Christ, forgive these bones I've been hiding

Oh, and the bones I'm about to leave, yeah”

Daryl now stands at the head of their table, a map infront of him. Going over the plan again, he heard her footsteps getting closer and closer. “You should be resting.” She steps next to him, brushing the stray hair from his face and leaning against his shoulder.

“Just wanted to go over the plan again…”

“Don’t be nervous, Daryl. We’ll get you home, I promise.”

He sighs, now looking at her, her hair was pulled back, eyes and skin shone softly from the glow of the candlelight. “Come with me…”

“I wish I could, but I have people here, people I need to protect.”

“They could come with us—we have communities—we live.

“We can’t leave. Not while that cult is still roaming—ruining everything they touch. What happens if they grow stronger? Recruit more people and come after you again?” She takes a few steps away, rubbing her temples and taking a deep breath.

“We have to stop them, now—here.”

Daryl doesn’t say anymore, he just looks at her, preparing for what’s about to come tomorrow.

“And take me down to the river

And bathe me clean, yeah

Put me on the back of your white horse to ride

All the way to the chapel, let you wash all over me, yeah”

Daryl could still remember the feeling of her hands, her body against his. Her hands trailing down his back then were a different feeling from when she was only washing him. Slowly, taking the time to map out all of what he considered “imperfections”.

It felt like a lifetime since she passed trying to get him home. Daryl now sits alone by her makeshift grave, and small cross with her weapon and name. All that was left of her, that and his memories.

Ended kinda freaky but oh well

Hope you all enjoyed! Love you, c u l8ter! 🫶🏽

[luvrodite]

THE VERY FIRST NIGHT JASON TODD (college! au)

↳ the first night you spend at his place

You don’t mean to stay over, the first time that you do. Truly you don’t. But it’s late, and you’ve spent the entirety of the afternoon dozing in and out of consciousness on the–quite frankly, illegally comfortable–couch in Jason’s living room. The both of you lie, pressed into each other, against the couch cushions and watch the reruns of old tv shows that are showing. 

A cool wind breezes in through an open window, and at your back, Jason is warm. The sun has long since set, but neither of you have mustered up the will to shut the blinds beyond the comments made every so often when a car will beep loudly, or a truck drones down the road, so loud the both of you flinch awake where you’d lingered on the precipice of true sleep.

It’s this such disruption that pulls you so meanly from sleep, startling you where you’d been so very comfortable in the arms of your boyfriend, and your movement in turn wakes him. He grumbles, and the both of you blink blearily in the dark at each other.

“What’s wrong?” he yawns, making to tug you closer. You stay upright, and he frowns at you, greatly inconvenienced. You would laugh if you were more awake, but sleep clouds your senses still and you reach for your phone. The time blinks at you, a mocking 12:19 and you let out a breath that is heavier than Jason feels it ought to be.

You show him the time and he stares blankly at you. “I’ve missed the last bus,” you say, and he screws his face up as another yawn tears out of him. His arms come around you once more, this time successfully pulling you closer.

“So what, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tucking his nose into your neck.

“Be serious,” you murmur, brushing a hand over his hair. “I should get home.”

He lifts his head to look at you. “‘M being serious. Just stay.”

You pause. 

“Stay the night?” you murmur, unsure. He nods, earnest and sleepy. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll drive you home, if you want,” he says gently, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your mouth. Your heart snags on how he grows a little shy as he pulls away, eyes flicking away to where your necklace has slipped out of your shirt collar. “Just thought it’d be more convenient….y’know…you could borrow my clothes if you want.”

“Jason Todd, you romantic, you,” you breathe out, a surprised laugh colouring your voice. He grumbles as you giggle, heat crowding in your face. You cover up your shyness with a false bravado, peering down at him to tease, “Will you make me breakfast in the morning, too?”

He glares up at you, teeth nipping at the tip of your finger. “I would. ‘Cos I’m a gentleman. And a good host. And your boyfriend.”

Everything in you seems to turn topsy turvy at his words, heart melting into a syrupy sweet, treacle-like mass in your chest. You can’t help but kiss him again. 

“Okay,” you whisper, and his eyes brighten in the dark. “I’ll stay, if you’ll have me. If you promise I’m not being a bother.”

“Could never bother me,” he says plainly, happy. “C’mon, sweetheart. Get you something to wear, think I’ve got a spare toothbrush, somewhere.”

You think that your first night together is going to be nerve-wracking. That you’ll stiffen up in bed and never fall asleep for fear of–fear of what? Getting too comfortable, you think. You think you’ll do something ridiculous and be laughed at for it. You don’t know if you could bear it from Jason.

But as it happens, you are guided down the dim-lit hall, hand in his, feeling very much as though you have already fallen asleep. A soft shirt is pressed into your hands, and shorts you forego–sleep plies you soft and uncaring, you’re here anyway, aren’t you? Jason says nothing, only pressing a kiss to your shoulder and leaving. He returns some moments later, takes your day clothes from your hands in exchange for a red, unopened toothbrush. 

You slip under the sheets and sleep claims you with a kiss. 

me when i lie and say i'm saving writing jersey boy for friday and the weekend. september and october are my peak jason months i think. the weather turns gentle and everything starts to bloom again, and i feel so much love for this silly little fictional man. he makes my heart ache. i love domestic jason. i think mid afternoon in september is always so pretty and the evenings are even lovelier. it makes me think of love so much even though i think i'd run away if it came within six feet of me.

[artsartblog]

I ended up turning a random doodle into a tadc au. It was mostly just a swapped arrival au, where I swapped the order of when characters arrived, while being a slight personality swap au.

I have listed who each person is swapped with meanwhile Caine is just Caine lol.

Pomni has been swapped with Jax

Jax has been swapped with Ragatha

Ragatha has been swapped with Zooble

Gangle has been swapped with Kinger

Zooble has been swapped with Pomni

Kinger has been swapped with Gangle

Tbh I just was doing some fun design changes because I wanted to so I don’t have a lot thought out for this. So I hope you enjoy these designs.

I do have some thoughts for this though:

• Gangle can switch between her masks - similarly to the mayor from The Nightmare Before Christmas. She also tends to forget things which can affect her mood, but mostly she’s just happily vibing and drawing. Though most of her drawings are things she usually has trouble remembering as a way of trying to keep some record of those memories. She very obviously to the way Pomni acts.

• Pomni does still have her anxieties, but is able to cover them up with her need to satisfy her own need for entertainment even if it’s by acting like a bitch towards others. Though she’s nicer to Gangle, or less likely to target her because Gangle isn’t very reactive towards the things Pomni does.

• Kinger can still, be spacey but in the more silly airhead kind of way instead of not being able to remember things. He never takes the way Pomni acts to heart, even if it does hurt that he’s the main source of her entertainment. His robe actually has a hood to it, but he doesn’t always wear the hood.

• Jax is still sassy, but is a lot more kinder and friendly. He is pretty much older brother coded - trying to make sure everyone is having fun during adventures and protective of others from Pomni’s actions. He does his best at helping Zooble feel comfortable in the circus.

• Ragatha would much rather be on her own, or hanging out with Kinger, instead going on Caine’s adventures. She tends to go off on her own just spending her time doing anything to make herself feel like she’s not stuck as a rag doll in a digital world.

• Zooble isn’t as anxious as canon!Pomni, but they do experience great body dysmorphia and are constantly trying to find a way out of the circus. They know there’s an exit, but don’t know how to find it. Though they try not to focus on that too much - instead more focused on finding a way to feel comfortable with how they look since everything they try just feels wrong. Most of the adventures allow them to not think about it consciously, but it never goes away.

That’s all I’ve got. Maybe I’ll draw a version of my oc Odette for this, but idk. Either way this was just a silly thing. I had fun with drawing this because I just went off vibes and just didn’t really think. Hope you all enjoy them like I do :3

As always have a wonderful day and stay creative!

[magickman1234]

Just Here for the Pictures

You tell everyone you’re here for the hot fat chicks getting fatter. You do live fat chicks but secretly you’re jealous. Once in a while you let yourself imagine getting that fat. You love them when they start to get awkwardly fat but honestly you want to be that fat. We see you looking at those obese chicks you like and look at yourself to see what’d you’re going to look like.

You spend hours fantasying about getting a bouncy belly hang or waddling from thick huge thighs. You told yourself that would be crazy to get that fat. Perhaps you got stoned with a group of cute fatties or while thinking about them while stoned alone you ate way too much on long weekend with fat friends. You get home and are now 5-8 pounds fatter. Clothes catch at your waist it makes you blush with excitement and embarrassment.

You start doing little things like leaving extra cereal that falls in your bowl by accident, grabbing an extra slice of pizza, and even an extra burger. Maybe an “I can cheat just this once” large fries becomes required.

You missed it but you cross passed 10 extra pounds to 15. It’s noticeable but not and your belly is now visible. You’re still thin but that belly really “pops” when looked at. You realize your favorite work dress shows the outline of your navel a bit. You see coworkers glancing at your belly unconsciously.

It’s worse with every pound as the light humilation has you orgasming nearly nightly. You form a guilty pact with yourself that getting stoned and eating at night is a good reward for work. Soon your work clothes get not just tight but too small. You’re in denial as you start to noticeably widen your skirts and leggings stretch to contain you but your stomach becomes nimble. Bouncy and prone to escape as your tops turn crop top by accident. It’s too late by the time you notice.

You’re over twenty pounds heavier flying to 30 then 40. You’re too big for your new clothes. You can’t keep up and now coworkers openly shake their heads at you.

God you can’t stop now. ITs not just a habit it’s your life now. You feel yourself slowing down with a growing waddle. You feel everything wiggling and you try to resist but millions of years of evolution. Your body wants to be fat you’ve learned as your appetite skyrocketed as you grew. You tried some to stop but your gym days were replaced by nights at home stoned eating and getting off. Your fat friends feels less and less huge to you. You’re starting to blend in with them a bit. The rare 5 pounds loss in a panicked attempt to resist ultimately turns to another 7-10 pounds gained. It’s humiliating that you can keep off the weight. You’re raw almost from orgasms now from thoughts that you’re trapped in this now very fat body. Your figure shifts to a big bellies pear which both a fat ass and a fat gut makes your flush to your chest with aroused self-consciousness. You realize your waddle walk is slowly changing to accommodate the sway of your big belly as it bounces fat thighs to fat thigh. Every limit you violate. Thoughts like well over 200 is cool as long as it’s not 250 turns to well I’m not 300 yet. You tell yourself “I’ll never let myself get as fat as 300…I’ve never been other 150…”

Your free falling as numbers like 309 315 fly by you on the scale. You’re bigger than some of your fat friends now. Your petite frame just makes it more embarrassing as even your fat fiends do double takes. You know it’s that your face just exploded with weight. You try to control yourself because walking is actually getting hard but recently some asshole FA dude said you’re too fat for him on a fetish site and that led to a feral mauling of yourself. You notice your slimmer faced fat friends getting better treatment less shaking heads or barely covered comments. Some part of you screams with terror to stop but your appetite just get worse and worse.

It’s hopeless now your body wants the lard sends you waves of hunger if you go too long without food. If you do any activity beyond a waddle from your car to a restaurant leaves you ravishingly hungry. You now join the upper ranks of your fat friends with old shared friends not recognizing you and asking what your name is. You’ve dyed and cut your hair different and you wear nothing like your old clothes so they have no way to recognize you now.

[the-night-that-feeds-if]

Hey everyone, dunno how long this might be, kind of doing a stream of consciousness style ramble about TNTF and me and stuff :)

alright so, tntf is getting a huge rework, this is my first if game ever, the coding is a little overwhelming, i know it’s fairly simple but it’s A LOT.

the reason i’ve been pretty quiet is mostly due to burnout, as some of you know i have health issues, i have crohns disease, i’m also autistic with adhd—something i love about this community is the understanding and acceptance for people/authors like me who may want to write but are just too stuck to be able to do it.

i know everyone is so jazzed for the next update, and i am too, there’s a few changes i’m making in regards to the technical aspects of the story, i’m removing stats, for the MC and for relationships. part of it is… i’m not a numbers person, trying to balance out the stats going up and down is a pain when this is planned to be a pretty damn long story. i also just don’t like it for my story personally, i don’t want you, as the player to feel like you have to game-ify personality or relationships.

this also opens the option for me to write more player responses to situations without having all of that annoying code in my brain~ MORE FLAVOR!

My writing has also vastly improved when it comes to fiction, a lot because i have been practicing so much while i’ve been sick (i’ve been playing with and writing AI chatbots on Janitor.AI, learning how to create a complex and realistic personality, an engaging character and world.) It’s been useful as a stress reliever and as a tool to help me write better, more descriptive etc.

on that note, smut in my game is also a very yes, i feel much more comfortable writing it now… heh.

i’ve also decided that all of my books are going to remain free, tntf was a planned three book series, it may just be one or two HUGE books, we’re going to have to see what i, and twine are capable of. but the story is going to span four countries and two continents of the world, so yeah.

the new rewrite is also going to slow things down considerably, because now we’ll have MC on a ship for four months as the intro, then meeting maddock and spending <insert amount of time here> with him while traveling to that little inn. it also gives me more room to introduce the characters a lot earlier but in their own POVs and not just while they’re with MC. i want the world to feel alive.

my decision to make and keep tntf free is because i want to.

i would not appreciate minors interacting with my content, but i also grew up with the internet, i know that no matter how much prevention we put in, minors are going to access our content regardless if it’s free or not. i just ask that if you are a minor and reading adult fiction, please don’t comment, dm or whatever, this is for your safety in the community as well as, i don’t want to deal with other people’s children on the internet, it’s nothing against any of ya’ll, you’re awesome, children are great but i’m almost 26, i really don’t want to deal with kids in what’s pretty much an adult space (i haven’t really seen books catered to the younger than 18 crowd, but like i’m saying, i’m more interested in forging connections with the adult community here, considering i am one, lmao *bats children away with pool noodles*)

i think that’s it

i might post more stuff but that’s my general direction

also to the asks in my inbox from last year on my birthday and forward… I READ THEM ALL AND APPRECIATE EVERY WELL WISH AND FEEDBACK, GENUINELY. i’m just bad at social media.

[sleepyficss]

I LOVVV YOUR TWO FICS SMMM AAA!!

im so happy I found yours they were so cute..there aren't many sadly so I was super ecstatic to find one!! :⁠,⁠-⁠)

Can I request another two x reader fic maybe...? Specifically a baking date where they help us make a cake while being very touchy like grabbing our hands, waist and kissing our cheek while we mix the batter and stuff and just them getting a bit distracted in general...

If not that's ok!! :3

Thanks!!! ^⁠///^

cake batter.

two x reader, romantic fluff & comfort

authors note:

omfg this took me months to write i am so sorry anon and other requesters. i hope this lives up to your expectations because of how dang long it took!! also, peep the new profile layout hehe

Lately, your nights were spent laying in bed while quietly waiting for Two to return. Ever since they started that competition of theirs, they’ve had to leave early in the morning and come back late at night — every day, without breaks.

You knew the passion they had for it, but you couldn’t help but feel unbearably lonesome without them. You often fell asleep, cuddled into their chest after their return, and dreamt of the days you spent attached at the hip of each other.

In the mornings, you’d wake up to an empty bed and a note on the bedside table – usually some cheesy pickup line, and a wish for a good morning.

Today, however, you noticed a clear difference as you rose to consciousness. Gentle presses littered your face, you instinctively lifted a hand to push at the unknown force, lightly making contact with a firm, but soft, surface.

A voice lightly laughed above you, “It’s not nice to hit people in the face…”

You grumbled in response, still struggling to process the world around you as your brain was lagging behind with sleep. Rolling over to face the other side of the bed, and therefore away from your offender, you attempt to ignore the world and resume your time in dreamland…

“Y’know, I had a whole day planned for us, but I guess if you’re just going to stay in bed all day –”

As if your thoughts had finally clicked in your head like a DVD Video logo hitting the corner of a television screen, your body rolled back over with enough speed to cause whiplash.

"Huh, Two?" You realised with speech slurred by sleep, "Weren’t you – aren’t you supposed to be…. Hosting your competition?”

The mentioned Algebralien huffed a short laugh at your slow blinks up at them, “Am I not allowed to take a day off to spend it with my favourite person?”

Your blood wasted no time in rushing up to your cheeks, warming up your body – despite the warmth you had already felt from still remaining underneath the bed covers. It didn’t matter the amount of time you had been romantically involved with Two, they still flustered you to no end with their simple statements.

“Did… Did you actually? Take the day off..?” You murmured, red-faced and looking up at them from the bed with hopeful eyes.

Their face softened at your words, reaching a hand out to cup your face gently, “Of course – I know I’ve been so busy recently… I want to make it up to you.”

“I was thinking… The cakes that I’ve been using for ‘Cake At Stake’ have been getting boring!” They started, and for once you were thankful for the countless rants they’d gone on in the past about their competition, otherwise you’d have been lost the moment they mentioned anything about stakes and cakes, “But everything that you’ve helped me bake in the past have been perfect in every way – but thats to be expected, coming from perfection themself!”

They left a kiss on the tip of your nose following the last sentence, the blush from earlier rapidly making its way back up to your face from Two’s flattery. You couldn’t hold back the flustered, yet happy, giggles that left you.

“Did you have a recipe in mind, or are we just going to wing it?” You lightly teased, moving one of your hands to intertwine with Two’s other that they had left at your face, bringing it lower.

“Ah, well – I was thinking of something that the contestants haven’t tried before, something new! But I wouldn’t want it to be anything too crazy, I still want everyone to like it… I’m sure they’d love anything made by you, anyways…”

Beginning to zone-out Two’s rambling, you couldn’t help yourself from staring at them lovingly. You felt incredibly lucky to be with someone so considerate, yet hardworking, that never ceased to show you how much they appreciated you. Flutters overtook your heart, almost feeling like it could send you into cardiac arrest, every time your mind lingered a little too long on the love of your life.

However, you were abruptly taken out of your thoughts as a pair of arms pulled you out from under the covers, “Wha – Uh, Two?”

Seeing the look in their eyes, you could immediately tell that they had gotten themselves overexcited at the prospect of baking a cake with you. A laugh overtook any words that you wanted to say as you were lifted fully into their arms, your own hands held at your chest.

Not a single second wasted, in mere moments you had found yourself in the kitchen. Two moved over to the closest counter, and sat you carefully on top of it, legs lightly swinging over the edge. Their hands hovered at your sides for a little longer than necessary, they quickly leaned up to press a kiss onto your lips before turning around and making way to the fridge.

As they dug through the shelves, you spoke up, “Since you’re so eager to make it now… I was thinking, do you remember that cake we took with us on our picnic? When we went to the Goiky Canal?”

Two lightly blushed in embarrassment at your teasing, before humming in understanding at your question. They continued placing ingredients on the counter from the fridge, then moving to the cupboard.

“That would probably be a good choice… I think it might be one of my favourites, plus I haven’t made it in ages!” You finished, looking hopefully towards Two.

“Oh, absolutely! That would be perfect, and we should have everything we need for it – let me just grab those.”

As they moved around the kitchen, you finally pushed yourself off of the counter, and reached down into a cabinet to grab one of the mixing bowls to start on the dry ingredients. As you placed the bowl on the counter, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, and you felt a soft pressure on your shoulder.

Tilting your head back, your cheek came in contact with a green one, lightly rubbing them together affectionately.

“Could you mix the ingredients together while I prepare the oven and the cake tin?” They softly asked, hands lightly rubbing your sides in an absentmindedly way that warmed your face.

You willingly agreed, grabbing the nearby measuring cups to begin pouring the flour – before realising that Two was still holding onto you.

You bit back a giggle as you leaned back a little, “Two, didn’t you just say that you would do the oven…?”

“Ah, o-of course! I was just… Making sure that you… Knew what you were doing?”

Their darkened cheeks said otherwise, but you weren’t one to call out their bluff.

With obvious reluctance, the warmth behind your body retreated with slow steps. You continued gradually mixing in the ingredients, following the basic steps that you had memorised over your time with Two – you’d be surprised at the number of times they’d begged you to bake with them… But then again, it’s Two; why would anyone be surprised?

Finishing up the batter, you turned to the prior mentioned Algebralien, and nearly jumped when you were met with a pair of eyes on you.

Your sudden movement seemed to push them from their trance, the blood running to their face and darkening their cheeks from getting caught staring. You questioned them silently with your own reddened face.

“S-Sorry! I just… You know how much I love you, right?” They blurted out, “I really am sorry for not spending more time with you, you deserve better…”

As they rambled on, you took on a sad smile as you finally understood what they meant, stepping forward to lift your hands and cup their face, “Two… I love you too, so much. I… Appreciate what you’re saying, and it does make me upset when you’re away so often, but that would never stop me from loving you. I know that this contest means a lot to you, so I would never want to take that away from you.”

Seeing the pitiful look in their eyes and the corners of their mouth begin to upturn, you leaned forward to press your lips against theirs. In an instant, they reciprocated the movement and moved their arms to embrace you, pulling your body closer to theirs.

You pulled away, followed by a barely audible whine from Two that lifted an amused grin to your face, “It just means you need to make it up to me on days that you aren’t busy!”

Two pushed their face further into one of your palms, still holding them, with a happier smile, “I wouldn’t choose to spend time with anyone else.”

“Though, I do think we have a cake to continue baking!” You pointed out, leaning away from Two to grab the bowl of batter, “Want a taste?”

Grabbing the spoon you had used to mix it together, you brought it up to your mouth to lick off any remaining batter. You hummed in delight at the sweet taste, offering the spoon to the green number in front of you.

“I think I’d rather try the batter outside of the bowl…” They rejected the spoon, instead leaning in towards you and kissing the corner of your mouth.

You raised an eyebrow at their antics, before they licked their lips and the realisation hit you.

With a light punch to their shoulder, you giggled out, “Hey! You could’ve just told me that I had batter on my face.”

“It tastes sweeter from you, though!”