#but i know this is a rough time of year for a lot of us

[yok00k]

pensándote

pairing: yandere!bf!jk x reader

genre: angst, smut

summary: your boyfriend is getting more and more possessive and it's starting to affect your relationship. however, he's willing to change for the better. or you thought so.

warnings: MATURE- shower sex(rough), videotaping, jk hits it from the back, oc called jk 'daddy', ass smacking, cheeks were getting clapped, mentioned lots of sex positions, oc got slutted out, jk is lowkey/highkey toxic, sick, and unhealthy, toxic relationship, attachment issues, argument, jk is a stalker w ill behavior/action, [still in denial], open ending[there might be a next part, depending on how rough life could be], not proof read bc writing this is a silly little hobby

word count: 1,611

a/n: ho i’m back and better than ever!!! note that english is not my first language and I write for funsies>..< (this ff is inspired by rauw's pensandote) — to those who knows a lot of reggaeton bangers plz hmu for recs thx

-Llevo to' el día pensándote

“baby wait up” he calmly pleaded, trying to catch up to you. still, you continue to ignore him.

It was about to be 3 a.m. when you and you boyfriend arrived to your apartment from a girls’ night. you and your homegirls planned to have a night out to have let some loose and have fun, lots of drinks and men hitting on you being involved of course. living the city night life has been the part of your lifestyle. however it doesn’t play a huge part of your life anymore. barely anymore since you’ve established a romantic relationship with jeongguk– your suitor for six months. 

you and jeongguk had the same psychology class last year. oftentimes in that class, you’re either too tired from work or still have a hangover from the party the night before. same parties he goes to just so he can see a glimpse of you from afar, trying his best to see the best view of the entire party while trying to manage being lowkey. 

fortunately, jeongguk, who’s sitting next to you in class and also can’t help but to shift his undivided attention to how you’re struggling in some works in class. as a straight A-student and a gentleman, he frequently lends you his notes and offers you help. why? because for some  strange reason, he cares for you. 

well maybe the care is turning into an obsession. but jeongguk keeps telling himself that he’s being harmless. he simply wants to know.  he’s seen you always go out with your close friends, never with any man. on the days you’re not partying, you pick up extra shifts at a nearby coffee shop. how did he know? luck. just happened to stumble upon the shop one day. he swears it’s all coincidence. 

or at least he hopes so. 

you started to see him so often. at your work, parties, gym, or at the grocery store. again and again that you began to think that this might be destiny. each time you see him, he’s always by himself. minding his own business (or make an effort to seem like it). and it made you a little curious. how come this man doesn’t have any hoe or friends around? you frankly thought ‘maybe just his lifestyle’. one day he finally gets out of his comfort zone and asks you if you would be interested to get to know him. obviously, you’d like to know who he truly is. right?

fast forward after courting you for six months, here you are. coming home from a party with him following behind you. 

you would think that he’s going to stop. it’s unexpected and extreme for what he’s about to do next. 

and there he is, both knees on the ground. his large palms reaching for your cold hands. kneeling before you like a desperate man he is.  He knew exactly what he'd done. “please, let’s fix this”

he used to be fun. less controlling. less obsessive. less possessive. 

“oh now you wanna acknowledge the problem?” you scoffed, finding his sudden behavior ridiculous. “fix what problem? you constantly getting overly possessive and manipulative or you just randomly showing up at the party while me and my friends are in the middle of having fun? for fuck sake Jeongguk, let me fucking breathe for once.” 

you’re beyond frustrated. the upcoming finals have been stressing the shit out of you and all you need is some space to relieve stress. 

“baby, you know I’m just making sure that you’re saf–” he starts off with the excuse he always says, but you’re too quick to call him out. “following me to make sure I’m safe? you’re suffocating me.”

he has no response. he knows it’s true. he’s aware of his excessive actions. no, more like impulses. a thing he can’t control. an itch.  jeongguk can’t seem to fight these urges when he knows that there’s lots of men out there that actively hit on you. and he’s terrified, scared that they’ll steal you from his possession as if you’re his favorite toy to ever acquire. 

“I think we should just end this. it’s becoming toxic.” you stuttered under your breath, gasping a handful of your hair as you shifted your gaze on the side. ‘he’s becoming toxic’ is what you really want to say. 

“I.. I will stop. I will change. let me prove to you that I love you and I only want what’s best for you” he cries, tears slowly rolling on his porcelain face. 

“do you still have trust in me?” 

you wanted to shake your head, say no. 

tragically, your answer is yes. but the real question is will he change for the better? 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

jeongguk is a man of his words and kept his promise.  it had been a couple months after that night and you began to notice the changes in his actions. a huge change. 

your boyfriend stops controlling you in a variety of ways. every time you let him know that you’ve got somewhere to go, all he asks for is your assurance that you’re safe and sound. as long as you’re having the best time, he’ll fully support you to whatever it is. 

some nights that you have to study and do homework, he’d restrain himself  from spamming your inbox. he understood that you have priorities and you’ll get back to him as soon as you can. and you did.

lastly, he recently became more consistent on going to the gym. it makes you extremely happy that he’s investing more time to better himself. physically and mentally. redirecting his focus onto something that’s actually more healthy for him.

 or at least that’s what you think he’s doing.

so far, so good. you feel secure that everything is working well. your relationship is doing good. 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

—"Tú desnuda, yo dándote"

“k-koo, right there baby” you begged as he continued to drill his thick cock into you from the back. slow and deep. and oh, raw.  “don’t stop, please.” the lewd sound of your ass clapping against his pelvis echoes in the steamy bathroom. all being captured by your cell phone held by his shaky left hand.

 video taping moments like this helps jeongguk cope with his unhealthy behaviors. whenever he feels a tiny bit of jealousy running through his veins, all he has to do is watch these videos to remind himself of what he has. 

you, in whatever nastiest positions he puts you in: doggy, backshots, against the wall, cowgirl, missionary, etc. this r-rated file collection you’ve got on your phone reminds him of the chokehold he’s got you in. yes, it’s all saved on your phone, but it’s not like he doesn’t have access through your apps and social accounts, let alone your camera roll. you’re all his. no one else’s. his. solely his. furthermore, he’ll make sure that he can guarantee himself so. 

perhaps you don’t need to smoke in order to feel like you’re in heaven right now. going for the 3rd round, your boyfriend still can’t get enough of you. 

supposedly was a quick shower right after the gym session you had with him turned into a long and enjoyable one. 

“yeah? you love getting fuck like this, huh?” his cockiness is on top of the roof, he looks down to watch his veiny shaft disappear inside your pussy just for it to come out and back. he’s got the bestest view. not even a phone camera with flash on can justify that. he then props the camera on top of the toilet, leaning against the wall as it still catches both of your filthy actions. 

seeing how much you enjoy this position– bent down in the nearest sink, one hand gripping onto his wrist while the other clutches on the ceramic white sink. the whimpers coming from your skilful mouth can alone make him bust a nut. 

when he receives no reply, the hand that helps you to stay in place snakes its way to your hair, collecting a fistful before tugging it back.  

“answer, slut” he snapped, demanding an answer from you whilst he proceeds to thrusts in and out. with your eyes rolled back, you’re barely processing what he wants from you. unable to even utter a single proper syllable from how ecstatic he’s making you feel. Indeed, you love being treated like a slut. 

in and out. in and out. in and–

smack 

 a sudden sharp pang on your ass cheek, causing you to moan loudly.  “c’mon my love, you’re still with me. right?” he asks, increasing his pace faster. rougher. 

“hmm y-yea, love the way you feeel” you desperately murmured, still clouded by the glorious dick he’s giving you. 

“m-more,” a single word from you is all that your man needs to hear to continue drilling onto you. rough yet with love. 

“almost there,  daddy” your breath hitches, still struggling to speak.  on the other hand, your words made the man pounding into you even crazier than he already is. he began to notice the signs that you’re about to reach your peak as your walls desperately clenched around him. 

he abruptly comes to a stop. pulls out completely from you, resulting in you to release a whine. 

jeongguk manhandles your fragile body, turning your body to face him. he pats the side of your thigh, insisting you to jump and wrap your  legs around his waist.

“want you to look me in the eyes when you come.” he orders, slowly penetrating into you once again, while being face-to-face with you at the same time. 

 just like his destructive actions filled with obsession, he’s not stopping anytime soon,

is he?

<want to read more? : my m.list>

[loveesiren]

ㄒ卂ㄥҜ ㄒㄖ 爪乇

Kwon Jiyong x deceased!reader

a/n: i found this in my drafts, I've been trying my hand at horror and fantasy because horror is what inspires me most. I'm also Pagan and big into witchcraft and magick. I also love the movie Talk To Me. Lol so all around, I'm just trying something new. Idk if I'll do part two or not. But let me know what you think? If it's not your cup of tea, just keep scrolling lol

warnings: angst, drinking, fatherhood, widowed partner, supernatural, rough draft, probably poorly edited because I'm drunk so excuse the mistakes

wc: 2.2k+

“Daddy?”

Jiyong’s head snapped up, his red-rimmed eyes meeting the small, fragile figure in the doorway. Parker stood there, clutching his worn blanket in one hand and a mess of printer paper and a framed photo in the other. The soft glow of the hallway light cast a halo around Parker’s messy hair, making him look even smaller, even more innocent in that moment.

“Hey, buddy,” Jiyong croaked, his voice hoarse from crying. He quickly wiped at his face with his sleeves, but the evidence was still there—the tear tracks glistening on his cheeks, his long hair disheveled and hanging in his face. “What’s up? Did you have a bad dream?”

But Parker didn’t move. He stayed planted in the doorway, thumb in his mouth, his big eyes studying his father’s broken expression. At just four years old, he was sharper than most gave him credit for. He saw the sadness that lingered like a heavy fog around his father, especially today.

“Do you miss Mommy?” Parker asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jiyong’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. His head dipped, but a small, bittersweet smile tugged at his lips at the sound of his son’s voice—so innocent, so full of love.

“Yeah, buddy,” he murmured. “I do. I miss her a lot.”

There was a brief pause before Parker shuffled forward, his little feet making soft sounds against the wooden floor. “Want me to tell you a story ‘bout her?”

Jiyong’s throat tightened. Normally, it was Parker who begged for stories about Mommy before bed, eager to hear his father’s colorful tales of her as a strong princess who could conquer any monster. But today was different. Today was their anniversary—the second one without her—and Jiyong felt like he was drowning in the weight of her absence.

But Parker, sweet Parker, had noticed. And he had taken it upon himself to try and mend his daddy’s heart, one story at a time.

“Yeah,” Jiyong whispered, his voice trembling. “I’d love that. Come here, buddy.”

Parker climbed onto the bed with his tiny legs, settling himself on the side where she used to sleep. He handed Jiyong the photo, his little hands careful with the frame. It was the picture Jiyong had taken when she was pregnant—her long hair cascading over her shoulders, that lavender dress flowing around her as she stood in a field of wildflowers, cradling her swollen belly with a radiant smile. She had looked like a dream.

A single tear slipped down Jiyong’s cheek as he stared at the photo, his thumb tracing the outline of her face.

“I wrote a story about Mommy,” Parker announced proudly, pulling out a handful of crumpled papers covered in colorful scribbles and stick figures.

Jiyong smiled through his tears, setting the photo gently on the nightstand. “Lay down, Daddy,” Parker instructed, patting his chest with tiny hands. “So I can read it to you.”

Obliging, Jiyong leaned back against the pillows, his heart swelling with a mixture of love and sorrow.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he whispered.

“First, this is us!” Parker exclaimed, holding up a drawing with three stick figures. One was tall with long hair labeled “Mommy,” another a bit shorter with bright orange scribbles for hair—“Daddy”—and in between them stood the smallest figure with “Parker” scrawled above it in shaky letters.

Jiyong chuckled softly. “Wow, Mommy’s so tall!”

“She has to be tall so she can fight all the monsters,” Parker explained matter-of-factly, already flipping to the next picture.

He nestled closer to Jiyong’s side, the warmth of his small body a comforting presence against the cold emptiness in Jiyong’s chest.

“This is Mommy saving us from a big, scary T-rex!” Parker declared, showing a picture of a giant, lopsided dinosaur towering over their stick figure family.

Jiyong widened his eyes in mock horror. “A T-rex?! How did she save us?!”

Parker jumped up, stretching his arms as wide as they could go. “She had a big sword! Like this big!”

Jiyong laughed, the sound raw but genuine. “Wow, that’s a huge sword!”

Parker nodded vigorously, plopping back down beside him. “And this one is Mommy fighting a hundred spiders!”

Jiyong shivered dramatically, clutching Parker close. “Oh no! That’s so scary! Did she win?”

“Yeah!” Parker grinned. “Mommy stomped on them all! She’s super brave!”

“She really is,” Jiyong whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Parker’s head.

Parker continued flipping through his drawings, each one more imaginative than the last—Mommy building the tallest tower, Mommy making the biggest sandwich in the world. Jiyong listened to every word, his heart both aching and swelling with pride.

Finally, Parker held up the last drawing. “And this one… this one’s special.”

Jiyong sat up slightly, peering at the paper. In the bottom corner were two stick figures—one with orange hair and one smaller, labeled “Daddy” and “Parker.” Beside them was a stick figure cat, “Princess Zoa,” lounging lazily. But in the top corner of the page, drawn on a fluffy cloud next to a bright yellow sun, was another figure—“Mommy,” looking down at them with a smile.

“That’s Mommy in Heaven,” Parker said quietly. “She watches over us from there.”

Jiyong couldn’t hold it back anymore. A sob escaped his lips, and he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to muffle the sound.

Parker’s little hands tugged gently at his father’s wrists, his brow furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong, Daddy? Didn’t you like my story?”

Jiyong forced himself to breathe, lowering his hands to meet his son’s worried gaze. He cupped Parker’s face gently, his thumbs brushing away the little boy’s confused tears.

“I loved it,” Jiyong whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I loved it so much, buddy.”

Parker studied his father’s face for a moment longer before asking softly, “Do you still miss Mommy?”

Jiyong pulled Parker into his chest, holding him as tightly as he could without hurting him. His lips pressed against the crown of Parker’s head as he whispered, “I’ll always miss her, baby. But having you here makes it a little easier.”

Parker’s small arms wrapped around his father’s neck, and for a moment, the crushing weight of grief eased just enough for Jiyong to breathe again.

“I love you, Daddy,” Parker murmured into his chest.

“I love you too, buddy,” Jiyong whispered back, closing his eyes and holding onto his son like he was his lifeline—because, in so many ways, he was.

Jiyong gently tucked Parker into your side of the bed, pulling the covers up to his tiny shoulders with a tenderness that made his heart ache. He turned on Parker’s favorite cartoon—the one with the silly talking animals that always made him giggle. The soft glow of the screen bathed the room in a warm, flickering light, but Jiyong barely noticed. He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing Parker’s hair back from his forehead, feeling the weight of the world pressing against his chest.

It only took about twenty minutes before Parker’s breathing slowed, his small frame rising and falling in a steady rhythm as soft snores filled the room. Jiyong lingered for a moment longer, his eyes tracing the curve of his son’s cheek, the gentle pout of his lips. There was so much of you in him—your eyes, your smile, even the little wrinkle between his brows when he was deep in thought. It was beautiful and unbearable all at once. Parker was the last piece of you he had left, and he clung to that with everything he had.

Carefully, he slipped out of bed, his movements slow and deliberate to avoid waking Parker. The house felt too quiet as he descended the stairs, each creak of the wood beneath his feet echoing in the emptiness. He made his way to the kitchen, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the bottle of whiskey. The amber liquid sloshed into the glass, and he took a long, burning sip before setting it down on the table.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the glass, at the reflection of his hollow eyes in its surface. Then the weight of it all hit him like a freight train. His knees buckled, and he leaned over the table, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The grief was a living, breathing thing, wrapping around his chest, squeezing until he could hardly breathe.

With a trembling hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out your ring—the beautiful diamond he’d spent weeks perfecting with the jewelers, wanting it to be just right for you. He remembered the way it sparkled on your finger, how you’d admire it with that radiant smile of yours, teasing him for being such a perfectionist. Now, it was cold and lifeless in his palm, a cruel reminder of everything he’d lost.

“God, I miss you...” he whispered, his voice breaking as he twirled the ring between his fingers. The silence that followed felt deafening, a void he couldn’t escape.

He downed the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, the burn doing little to numb the pain. He poured himself another, and another, each glass blurring the edges of his sorrow but never quite dulling it. Six years ago today, he’d watched you walk down the aisle in that breathtaking dress, your eyes shining with love and promise. It had been the best day of his life. Now, it felt like a lifetime ago, a memory fading at the edges.

His sobs grew louder, echoing through the empty house as he buried his face in his hands. The realization that you were gone—truly gone—hit him over and over, a relentless tide of grief that never subsided. Two years. Two fucking years since he’d lost you, and the pain still felt as fresh as the day you left.

He was a man of science, grounded in logic and facts. But you? You had always believed in magic, in the unseen, in possibilities that defied explanation. He used to laugh at your silly spells, your whispered incantations in the attic. But now? Now he’d give anything to believe. To have even a sliver of hope that he could see you again.

The memory hit him like a ton of bricks—that one relic you’d been so protective of, the little black box you’d spent hours with in the attic, speaking softly to it as if it could hear you. He’d teased you about it back then, but now, desperation clawed at his heart. Maybe you weren’t talking to yourself after all.

With a newfound urgency, he finished his drink and stumbled up to the attic. The space was cluttered with boxes, dusty and forgotten, each one a time capsule of your life together. His heart pounded in his chest as he sifted through them, tossing aside old memories in his frantic search. Finally, he found it—the little black box, tucked away in a dark corner, hidden as if protecting its secrets.

His hands shook as he picked it up, the weight of it heavier than he remembered. He didn’t have the courage to open it yet. Instead, he clutched it to his chest and raced back downstairs, pausing briefly to check on Parker. His son was still sound asleep, blissfully unaware of his father’s unraveling.

Back in the kitchen, Jiyong poured himself another whiskey, trying to steady his nerves. He placed the box on the table, staring at it like it held the key to everything he’d lost.

“God, Y/N,” he whispered into the stillness. “You better not have been fucking with me.” His voice was hoarse, thick with desperation. He’d try anything at this point.

Taking a deep breath, he carefully removed the lid. Inside sat an intricate hand, carved with strange markings that seemed to pulse under the dim light. He’d never asked how you’d come by it—back then, it had just been another one of your oddities. But now, he prayed with everything in him that it was more than that.

With trembling fingers, he lifted the object out of the box, setting it on the table before him. He read over the simple rules you’d left behind, his heart pounding louder with each word. Pushing the box aside, he grabbed his lighter and lit the candle, the flame flickering like a heartbeat in the dark.

He downed his drink in one swift motion, the fear bubbling in his stomach almost unbearable. He’d never believed in this kind of thing, but grief had a way of making even the most rational man desperate.

With a shaking hand, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the cold, carved hand. He closed his eyes, his voice barely a whisper. “Talk to me.”

When he opened his eyes, he saw it—a faint shadow sitting across from him. His heart lurched in his chest, fear and hope warring within him. But he couldn’t stop now.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he spoke the words you’d written in your neat, familiar handwriting. “Let me in.”

In an instant, the air shifted, the room growing colder. And then… you were there. Your body, your presence, materialized from the shadows, your soft hand slipping into his. His jaw dropped, his breath hitching in his throat as he took in your familiar features, your eyes shimmering with the same love he’d missed so desperately.

A tear slid down his cheek as he took in the sight of you.

And then, in that sweet honey soaked voice he loved so much, you spoke.

“Hi, Ji.”

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

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[wolvietxt]

𝓵ate 𝓷ight laundromat.

pairing : frank castle x fem!reader warnings : petnames, fluff, kinda open ended summary : you and frank keep running into each other at the 24-hour laundromat in your apartment complex. he’s always there at odd hours, folding his black t-shirts and watching you over the rim of his coffee cup. wc : 2.0k a/n : take a shot every time i mention the coffee cup ALSO i wanna write a part two for this :3

you’ve lived in the same apartment complex for almost a year now, but it wasn’t until the past couple of weeks that you started noticing frank. the first time you bumped into him was in the 24-hour laundromat in the basement, the one you’d barely ever given much thought to. you were there late one night after work, lugging a bag of laundry that felt ten times heavier than it should have. the laundromat, tucked away in the corner of the building, was empty except for a guy hunched over his laundry. his black t-shirts were neatly folded in a pile beside him, and his movements were methodical - almost precise. he didn’t notice you at first. you just slid your quarters into the machine, quietly setting your basket down, your eyes drifting over to him.

when he finally looked up, his eyes caught yours for a second - brief but intense - before he quickly went back to folding, like he wasn’t sure what to do with the moment. it wasn’t uncomfortable. in fact, it made your heart flutter a little. maybe it was the way his dark, messy hair framed his face or the simple fact that he was actually doing something productive at 2 a.m. while the rest of the world slept.  

you didn’t really know what to say. you weren’t even sure if he was the type of guy who liked to chat in a laundromat of all places, so you kept to yourself. the only noise between you two was the soft hum of the dryers, the occasional clink of coins, and the rustling of fabric. you glanced at him again when you tossed your clothes in, and this time, he seemed to notice, because he met your gaze for a longer moment before offering a small nod.  

"hey," he said gruffly, his voice low. “you, uh, come here a lot?”  

you blinked, caught off guard by the question. you hadn’t expected him to talk, especially not first.  

"yeah," you said, smiling a little awkwardly. "guess i’m a bit of a night owl."  

he smirked at that, the corners of his mouth turning up just enough to make his rough demeanor seem less intimidating. “me too.”  

from that point on, you saw him regularly. every time you found yourself at the laundromat at odd hours, he seemed to be there too. it was as if your schedules had aligned by some strange cosmic coincidence, and while it was a little strange at first, you started to look forward to it. you’d do your laundry, he’d do his, and once in a while, when the machines were humming their last spin, he’d take a sip from his coffee mug, glancing up at you over the rim.  

the two of you didn’t talk much at first, but the little moments began to add up. one night, when your dryer stopped halfway through its cycle, you found yourself holding a basket of wet clothes, unsure what to do. frank must’ve seen the look of slight panic on your face because he got up, moved over to your dryer, and with a soft grunt, nudged the start button for you.  

“thanks,” you muttered, surprised at how easily he moved around you.  

“no problem, sweetheart,” he said, a quiet chuckle escaping him.  

you blinked at that. sweetheart?  

he didn’t seem to notice your surprise, too busy folding his t-shirts with the kind of focus that made it clear he was used to being alone during these late-night laundromat sessions.  

after that, frank would occasionally drop in a petname - sweetheart, sugar - nothing that felt overly intimate, but enough to make you feel a little warmer every time he said it. and you found yourself wanting to hear it more.  

you were always busy in the mornings, so the nights became the only time you felt like you had any real freedom, and you found yourself thinking about him more and more. how quiet he was. how kind he seemed underneath that gruff exterior.  

there was one night - late as always - that you walked into the laundromat, tired from your shift, only to find frank already there, as usual. he was sipping coffee, and his gaze lifted just enough to meet yours when you stepped inside.  

“late night, huh?” he said with a slight nod, his voice warm in the cool, quiet space.  

“yeah,” you replied, walking over to the machines. “never seems to stop, does it?”  

“nope,” he said, his lips curling into that soft, barely-there smile that you were starting to look forward to. “but i don’t mind. keeps things interesting.”  

and as you loaded your clothes into the machine, you realized you didn’t mind either. there was something oddly comforting about the routine of it all. seeing frank at these weird hours, sharing these quiet, small moments with him.  

you smiled to yourself, feeling a little lighter. a little less alone.  

the following weeks blurred together in a rhythm that felt surprisingly comforting. your late-night laundromat rendezvous with frank had become more than just coincidence; they’d become part of your routine. at first, you only exchanged small words and quiet glances, but something about the way frank looked at you - how his gaze softened over the rim of his coffee cup - made you want to stay just a little longer each time.  

you couldn’t explain it. you didn’t even know him all that well, but there was something undeniably magnetic about his presence. it wasn’t just his quiet confidence or the way he folded his shirts so meticulously. it was how he paid attention to you in a way that no one else did. it was the small, subtle things - the way he always made sure you were okay with the machines, the way he’d hold the door open for you without making a fuss about it.  

and you started noticing the little things about him too. how he always wore those faded band shirts that looked as if they’d been washed a hundred times, how his dark hair fell in messy waves that seemed like they were made to be ruffled. that was, until he buzzed it again. you started to realize that you weren’t just looking forward to the laundry, you were looking forward to seeing frank.  

it wasn’t long before you started finding excuses to stay later than you normally would, letting your clothes dry just a little longer, lingering in the laundromat for an extra few minutes just to be in the same space as him. frank never pushed you, though. he was the same calm, collected guy he’d always been - quiet but not distant, a little reserved but never cold.  

one night, after a particularly busy day, you found yourself at the laundromat again. the room was empty except for the usual hum of machines and the low buzz of fluorescent lights. frank was sitting at the small table by the window, his coffee mug in front of him, but this time he wasn’t folding his shirts. instead, his eyes were trained on you, watching you as you loaded your clothes into the dryer.  

you felt his gaze on you, but you didn’t mind it this time. it wasn’t awkward. it felt... familiar.  

“you doing okay?” he asked, breaking the silence, his voice soft but carrying an edge of concern you hadn’t expected.  

you paused, turning to face him, your fingers still hovering over the detergent bottle. “yeah, just a long day. i’m glad i have this to look forward to.”  

frank’s lips twitched up into a small, almost shy smile at that. “i’m glad too, sweetheart.”  

you didn’t think anything of it at first - just the usual friendly banter. but when you sat down at the table across from him, the air between you two seemed to shift, just slightly. it was subtle, but you could feel it.  

“you ever get tired of it?” you asked suddenly, your voice quieter than you meant it to be. “the routine, i mean. coming here every night, doing the same thing.”  

he thought about it for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he stared down into his coffee cup. “nah,” he finally said, his voice low but steady. “it’s the little things that keep me going, i guess. even if it’s just... this.”  

you blinked, not sure if he was talking about you or just the laundromat itself, but either way, it made something warm stir inside you. you found yourself staring at him for a little too long, the silence growing comfortable, even welcome.  

“yeah, i get that,” you murmured, feeling the warmth of the moment spread through you. “me too.”  

there was something so effortless about your time together, like the world outside the laundromat didn’t matter as long as you were both there. but that night, you could sense the shift - the way frank wasn’t just going through the motions of laundry anymore. there was a quiet anticipation in the air, a flicker of something unspoken.  

the machines buzzed again, signaling that your cycle was done. you stood up to retrieve your clothes, and frank followed suit, gathering his things with slow, deliberate movements. when you moved to head for the dryer, you bumped into him by accident.  

“oops,” you muttered, stepping back, your heart racing just a little.  

“you good, sweetheart?” frank asked, his voice softer than usual, eyes now scanning your face with a curiosity that made your stomach flutter.  

“yeah,” you said quickly, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “just, uh, tired, i guess.”  

he didn’t say anything right away, but there was something in the way he studied you now - like he was deciding whether to say something more, something real. and then, after a long pause, he spoke, his voice a little unsure but still steady.  

“you ever... wanna get out of here?” he asked, the words coming out slower than he probably intended. his dark eyes were searching yours, and for the first time, you could see the vulnerability there, just beneath the surface. “i mean... not here. not the laundromat. somewhere... different. with me.”  

your heart skipped a beat. was he asking what you thought he was asking?  

you smiled, warmth flooding your chest. “yeah, i’d like that.”  

“good,” he said, looking slightly relieved, though the tension hadn’t quite left his shoulders. he ran a hand through his hair, glancing at you with that same gentle look. “it’s a date then. i’ll, uh, figure it out.”  

you nodded, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you two, like a promise. for the first time, frank looked less like the mysterious guy you saw in the laundromat and more like someone you might want to know better. maybe this routine, these late-night runs, were just the beginning. 

ᰔ frank castle : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc, @erospecies

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[vorfreudevortex]

Fake It 'Til We Make It

-`♡´- 01. Awkward...

-`♡´- a chaptered smau series featuring: editorial assistant!ino x copy editor!fem!reader

warnings // cursing, mentions of an ex being rough with you, use of y/n (i'm so sorry, i hate it too)

author's notes // i have notes and fun facts after the texts :P

series masterlist // my masterlist // 02 (coming soon!)

series masterlist // my masterlist // 02 (coming soon!)

notes & fun facts! //

reader used to be a copy writer for jj&k's women's fashion and lifestyle magazine, "kirei", but recently accepted a promotion to be a copy editor and now works on a broad range of writing, including "binan" which is a men's lifestyle magazine that nanami is in charge of.

nanami is one of the senior editors with his own team, along with gojo.

nanami's team: ino (editorial assistant), reader (copy editor), and yuji (intern)

gojo's team is just him and megum (editorial assistant)

shoko (publisher and ceo of jj&k) and nobara (assistant) are a force to be reckoned with.

ino orders coffee like a 6 year old. can't stand plain black coffee.

gojo has almost been fired like 23 times but is so good at his job that shoko just can't seem to pull the trigger (and gojo knows this).

it's a big office, but these 3 teams are the best and are therefore a lot closer and more casual with each other to help deal with the stressful and fast-paced industry.

shoko and nanami ripped gojo a new one after the meeting for embarrassing the reader in the groupchat :P

ino was sweating BULLETS when he texted you... seems like you were too busy to notice.

taglist // @jayathelostdragon @vesserz @loveyislost

banner from pinterest (help me credit the artist!) // divider by @/kodaswrld <3

© vorfreudevortex // all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, or repost my work.

[jellyvibes710]

A year progress (or two, I’ve lost track)

I know I’m two months late since the new year but thank you all so much for reading my comics!

I have a few plans for the future and one of them is I’m going to rewrite “little baby blue” I never fully planned it out before I had jumped into it, the story had a lot of plot holes and it was hard to follow with how frequently it’d jump between parts. It’s not dead! After I finish the “parasite” storyline little baby blue will be set in motion again

The next part in the parasite story is planned to be animated with voice actors and sound effects, it’s a big project I am very excited for! Hopefully, if all goes well, there will be 2 fully voiced and animated parts for the whole series

Last project is still a secret, I’ve been working on it for about 2 years now(I took a short break because of turtles XD), it’s not a tmnt story but it’s an eddsworld story, I won’t bore you guys with those details though

The two newest drawings of Donnie and Leo are from a rough draft story I’ve been considering working on again, the twins are stuck in a loop that was caused after a battle with some bad guys goes bad, after Donnie was able to secure one of the bad guys he doesn’t realize that their battle had caused the building to start collapsing, Leo was able to portal himself and kick Dee out into safety but wasn’t able to get himself or the pinned criminal out in time and ultimately loses his life when the building caved in on him. The villains buddy uses an artifact (that they were stealing) in an attempt to save his buddies life but ultimately trapped themselves and the twins into a time loop, they eventually have to work with the criminals to fix this problem they’ve gotten into. This story has no happy ending and is VERY dark. There is only one way to stop the time loop and Donnie isn’t sure he can go through with it. Cheesy I know but I’m a sucker for a good time loop story, plus it was planned to be a very short comic

Just in case I do decide to pick that one back up I won’t put a lot of details or spoilers

Additional doodles under cut

Some screenshot redraws of Leo , I wanted to try out a few different color palettes and I really like how they look

My first time drawing big mama, I think I did good for only having one reference photo of her, though I learned that I can’t draw crop tops for the life of me 😆

[deepfriedsharkbites]

UPDATE TIIIME!

I took the live specimens and preserved leeches into my lab to take a closer look! This was not a formal lab and nothing was documented or peer reviewed, these are personal observations that I thought were Neato (trademark).

I'll be covering my observations on the preserved leeches in this post. I know this can make people squeamish, so I'll put pictures and info under the cut!

Live Placobdella parasitica specimens

These critters were in my care for three days, and I observed some of their behaviors in a controlled environment.

Containment: 1/2 gallon (1.9L) plastic fish tank, 75% filled. Water was ~2:8 locally collected pond water and filtered/dechlorinated tap water. No additional enrichment, live organisms, or substrate was added.

Leeches exhibited normal leech behaviors: dormancy when exposed to light and more activity when tank was covered in a towel (typical nocturnal behavior). All locomotion observed was peristaltic (typical of annelids). The most interesting behavior I got the chance to observe was a wave-like "flag-in-the-wind" motion to increase oxygen uptake, since leeches respire through the body wall.

When water was disturbed, leeches exhibited "agitated" activity (more movement in general, flailing superior). Poor attachment to glass while transferring caused the two specimens to attempt to suction onto eachother using both anterior and posterior suction cups.

Now for the micro stuff! Because I did not use a lot of pond water, there were unfortunately not many live microorganisms. I found a handful of ciliated protozoan species and some unidentifiable organisms in the mix (I'm not a micro student and they were moving too fast, bear with me).

My suspicions about larval Placobdella parasitica were NOT confirmed. The white string-like growths on the mature specimens are unidentifiable to me, maybe someone with more expertise would like to chip in? This does not look like a larval/juvenile leech, but the two "tails" on what I assume is the posterior are not present in any planarians I can find. All specimens of the unknown sp. had these "tails."

Below are pictures of preserved and partially dissected leeches as well as blood samples, please be cautioned if you are squeamish.

This is my first time delving into any micro lab unsupervised, and I am EXTREMELY amateurish when it comes to microscopy. I am open to any advice!

Attempting to pin and dissect subadult Placobdella parasitica was a nightmare, as they were ~8mm and I did not have the proper tools; however, being able to see their innards was pretty neat (unlabeled because I genuinely have no idea, organism was too dried out).

I extracted some blood from a recently fed subadult Placobdella parasitica to take a look at and results were also a little rough. I don't know if it's due to the isopropyl alcohol I used to preserve, blood mixing from the leech/turtle, or coagulation and desecration of blood from the gut of the leech. It's likely all three. After talking to my biology professor (who has a PhD in viral biology), we discovered that turtles have nucleated blood - in fact, all non-mammilians do! I drew my own blood for the sake of comparison, and after posting the comparisons in a Discord I'm in, one of my friends who has been doing blood samples for years kindly informed me that my samples were too thick and causing coin stacking. I do not have any blood diseases. Any coagulation is because I drew this blood from a recently-scabbed spider bite.

I hope this little deep dive was interesting! As promised, the live leeches got released. A great egret Ardea alba nearby was vocalizing while I was at the creek, probably to let me know that she could see me.

Prettiest leeches I've ever seen!

These are local Placobdella parasitica (smooth turtle leeches) I pulled off of our permanent-rehab pond sliders. While these critters can evade detection on healthy aquatic turtles by staying under the shell and behind the legs, they're given an advantage over turtles with deformed/injured shells and turtles with less leg functionality, (assumedly) allowing them to multiply over more surface area.

I will be taking these two (live) specimens to my bio lab on Tuesday. I removed a large cluster of juveniles that I have since humanely euthanized from a large pond slider to bring in as well. The two live specimens are mature adults and will be released after lab examination.

Unfortunately, there is not much in terms of information on these guys. Hopefully we see more about them in the future!

[damiansgoodgirll]

can you write about drew and reader are a couple but no one knows and austin theory wants to have his way with reader. she’s shy and kind and she struggles saying no so austin thinks he has free will with her until he goes to far and drew has to intervene. some angst and a lot of fluff please ❤️❤️

drew mcintyre x reader

‼️angst, feels, comfort, touching without consent, austin is a dick here sorry‼️

safe in his arms

being shy in the wrestling business wasn’t easy. you were used to the loud personalities, the egos, the over-the-top confidence. you’d spent years perfecting your smile, your polite nods, your quiet way of excusing yourself from conversations that made you uncomfortable.

but the hardest part? saying no.

you never wanted to be rude. never wanted to upset anyone. so when people pushed, you let them. when they ignored your hesitation, you swallowed it down.

and most of the time, it wasn’t that bad.

but then, there was austin theory.

cocky, arrogant, and completely convinced that every woman in the locker room wanted him, including you.

it didn’t matter that you never flirted back. didn’t matter that you barely even made eye contact when he talked to you. he saw your shyness as an invitation, your soft-spoken nature as an opportunity.

and tonight, he took it too far.

the show had just ended, and you were on your way back to the locker room when you heard him.

“hey, y/n” austin called, jogging up beside you.

you forced a small smile “hey.”

“great match tonight” he said, flashing a grin “you looked real good out there.”

“thanks…” you murmured, hoping that would be the end of it.

but he kept walking beside you.

“you know, i was thinking…” he continued, his voice dripping with confidence “we should go out sometime. celebrate a little.”

you swallowed “oh, um… that’s nice of you, but i-“

“c’mon!” he interrupted, nudging your arm. “you never go out. gotta let loose a little.”

you hesitated. “i just don’t think…”

“just one drink!” he insisted “what’s the harm in that?”

your heart started to race “i’m really not-…”

and in that moment his hand landed on your waist. it wasn’t rough, wasn’t violent, but it wasn’t welcome.

your whole body tensed.

“austin, i said no…” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

but he didn’t move.

“don’t be like that” he murmured, his fingers pressing slightly against your hip “you’re just playin’ hard to get, huh?”

your throat tightened.

you knew austin. he wasn’t a bad person. he wasn’t dangerous.but right now, you felt trapped.

and then…

“get your hands off her.”

austin barely had a second to react before he was shoved back, hard enough to send him stumbling.

your breath caught.

drew.

his chest was heaving, his eyes burning with something dark, dangerous. his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

“what the hell, man?” austin huffed, regaining his balance “we were just talking.”

drew didn’t even blink “she said no.”

austin scoffed “oh, so you’re speaking for her now?”

“no” drew said, voice low and controlled, “but i’m damn sure listening to her more than you are.”

austin rolled his eyes “whatever, man. she’s a big girl. she can handle herself.”

drew took a step forward “she shouldn’t have to.”

for a moment, no one moved.

then, austin threw his hands up backing away “fine. whatever. not worth the trouble.”

you let out a shaky breath as he disappeared down the hall. immediately, drew turned to you, his expression softening “are you okay?”

your lips parted, but no sound came out. you felt frozen, like your body hadn’t caught up with what had just happened.

drew’s hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “sweetheart...” the warmth of his touch melted the ice in your chest.

you inhaled sharply, nodding “yeah. i’m okay…i just… i didn’t know what to do.”

his brows pulled together “you shouldn’t have to do anything. you told him no. that should’ve been enough.”

your vision blurred slightly “but it never is.”

his jaw clenched “i know.”

he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his chest. you didn’t hesitate. you melted against him, burying your face in the fabric of his shirt. his arms tightened around you “i’ve got you” he whispered softly.

you let out a shaky breath “thank you.”

his lips pressed to the top of your head “always.”

later, in the quiet of your hotel room, drew held you close, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back.

“i hate that you felt like you couldn’t say no,” he murmured “hate that people take advantage of your kindness.”

you sighed “i don’t want to be mean.”

he pulled back slightly, looking down at you. “standing up for yourself isn’t mean.”

you bit your lip “i just…i don’t want people to hate me.”

his expression softened “sweetheart,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “anyone who gets mad at you for having boundaries isn’t worth worrying about.”

you swallowed “i know. it’s just…hard.”

he nodded “i know. but i’ll be right here, every time you need me.”

your heart swelled. you reached up, fingers brushing his jaw “i love you.”

he smiled, warm and soft “i love you too.”

his lips met yours, slow and gentle, a silent promise that you were safe.

that you were his. and in his arms, you finally felt at peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

[witchy667]

TDLR- My first awakening with my wolf when I was about 9 years old.

(TW for mentions of intense Christianity and some swearing)

So I don’t know when exactly I started feeling so connected to wolves. I partially think that it’s because I’ve always been animalistic/wolfish. So there wasn’t much of a “separation” when I was young cause that’s just who I was if that makes sense. I never thought my behavior to be odd cause I just did it. I had a lack of self control with impulses and instincts as a child. That plus my wolf tendencies and natural chemical imbalance made me seem a bit concerning I guess. I started collecting stuff and making art for wolves starting at age 6. I actually taught myself how to draw because I loved wolves so much. Learned just so I could draw wolves. So by age 9, I had a good collection of wolf affiliated items. I kept them in my windowsill. Had a mask I made by hand, a tail, snowglobes, stuffed animals: you name it. Around the age of 8 to 9 I was also looking into witchcraft to figure out a spell to change me physically into a werewolf. I would memorize different spells so I didn’t even have to read it off the paper while under the moonlight of the full moon at 12 AM. So I could focus fully and send my energy. I tried this multiple times. Being a kid, not knowing that the Internet had history my dad and stepmom found out. They thought that I was possibly possessed and was worshiping the wolves as a false God or idol.

They first forced me so sit down and watch quite a few possessions along with exorcisms after they “found out”. After that semi traumatic experience they forced me to get rid of all of my wolf stuff. Legit sold everything then made me physically destroy and rip up my art. I remember vividly ripping up a mask I worked on for months that got me attention in an art show. I was bawling and so angry but I’d rather me destroy it than them. I still regret that to this day, but what choice did I have? After that my dad and step mom no longer allowed me to behave “wolfish”. No more walking on my tiptoes, no more wearing a tail, no more rough housing, no more running on all fours in any regard, no more wolf books, somehow I was blessed they didn’t take my forest privileges away completely. They deadass even took my door OFF its hinges. For like a year straight. 🥲🙏 So it’s started being a huge fight to be my full self. But I never gave up regardless of their restrictions.

(Now to the awakening, lol. Sorry it’s so long, context was just needed to understand fully this next part)

One day my dad and step mom when on an out of town trip for a few days. (I was 9 at this time) So they hired our baby sitter Jenna to watch us. She decided to take us to the zoo to do something fun. (This was in upstate NY so it was a big zoo with lots of people, NOT NYC though!! lol) We got to the zoo and walked around for a while, obviously I only cared about the wolves. But I think Jenna knew that so she wanted to look at the wolves last. We make it through a majority of the zoo and I see the wolf cage. I’m immediately excited, I noticed right away as we were approaching that there was hella people and kids around the cage howling to get the wolves attention and to come close. I also noticed the wolves on the side of their enclosure eating, I don’t remember what it was expect it being red meat. So I knew that the wolves didn’t care as they were being fed the one or two times they could be in the day. Lastly, I somehow knew in my soul; in my bones; that if I stepped up to the cage it wouldn’t matter. They would come.

Then the world kind of drowned out. I didn’t really comprehend or see all the humans around me or even notice/care about my babysitter or brother’s presence. It was like I moved without thinking and just did what my instincts told me without thinking about it as I do it. I walked up to the cage and tilted my head back and just howled with my whole being. I shit you not both wolves stop eating and came over and sat right in front of me and stared at me. I opened my eyes and see them and I almost started crying. I noticed all of the strangers staring at me in disbelief along with my brother and Jenna. I felt in that moment that I am a wolf and no matter what they take from me they can never take me from me. They can never take the wolf away because I am a wolf.

So when my parents came back from their trip and my babysitter told them about the experience, it was so validating because after everything that they tried to do to break the connection it still didn’t work. And it just helped me know that no one can take it away. And it was the biggest fuck you and the wolves are with me. And I’ll cherish that memory forever.

Sorry for the super long wall of text I just really wanted to express this here because I thought it could potentially be relatable in some aspects. Along with this is definitely a part of my wolf journey.

[osidius-el-enfatico]

fucked up story time

after @menthas asked me, i thought about it and i dont think i ever posted about the dead nun story in here, so here it goes.

some time around march-april last year, on a sunday afternoon, news breaks that a nun had been found dead inside a suitcase about 15 minutes away from my home, near where we used to live before here. my dad decides this is the perfect time to take a walk to the old neighborhood and goes snooping around.

details are scarce in the reports during that first few hours, but my dad comes back and says he heard cops talking about another nun.

you know who lives near two nuns? us. we say 'wouldnt it be fucked up if it was those two nuns who live by the parking lot?' and laugh. on the evening news, security footage comes out and it shows an old nun dragging a suitcase and leaving it by some trashcans. a few minutes later some dude checks the trash for things to sell (as per his own admision) and finds a young nun inside the suitcase. you know who had an old and young nun pair for neighbors? us. it isnt so funny now when we ask wouldnt it be fucked up? it would

monday comes and i go off to work, sell some comics, the usual. during the day a few more details come up but i dont pay too much attention, i was reading something that day. i come home around 9 that night. i open the door and my sister gets on my face "NICO, IT WAS THE TWO NUNS WHO LIVE OVER THERE". get the fuck off my face, i say. all 5 (mom, dad, sister, me, and vito) sit around the tv and watch the report. "we have the identity of the nun found yesterday in a suitcase" says the lady on the tv, and they show a picture. my mom yelps, the nun was a friend of hers when she was younger and attended church groups. she calls my uncle. we go to sleep.

i go to school on tuesday, no new details come up during the day. on the evening news they tell us that the autopsy showed the nun had been dead for 6 to 8 months before being found. and more details about her life were unfolding, she lived in (my village) and had been moved to the neighborhood where she was found within a month or two of being found. during those 6 to 8 months, one sunday me and my mom went to the hardware store, and when we get home we park right outisde the nun's house. as we get out of the car and im carrying tools and shit, i hear the old nun call to me, she had some trouble with her gate and her door, would i mind helping her? i help her with her gate hinge, and her doorknob and key hole, they needed some wd40 and a few screws tightened. unbeknownst to me, the other lady was dead upstairs.

that day at night i go to the parking lot to check something out in the car and the brother of the dead nun is holding a vigil for her. my mom and dad go check that out.

the next day the neighborhood is flooded with news crews, my dad gets interviewed by two different tv stations. on the evening news we learn THEY WERE NOT FUCKING NUNS. they just got tired of men and were dressing like nuns, ALSO THEY WERE PROBABLY FUCKING and split their time between both houses, the one where she died, and the one where she was found near.

on saturday i get together with some friends and tell them the whole thing. i mention the lady used to go to the church a couple blocks from my house, one of the friends who goes to that church googles a picture because he missed that part and gasps. he knew her from sunday services. no new info is released.

may comes around and school is ramping up, one of my friends hadnt really been going to class and barely responding to texts about schoolwork. after one particular fucked up test she tells me she needs to talk to me, she tells me she has been having trouble with her living situation and asks me if i had seen the 'thing with the nun on the news', had i seen it? girl i was near the body and i didnt know it. she looks at me and tells me she was her aunt. her dad had been having a really rough time. but he told her that she could live in the house, since it was empty now. i say something or other and tell her to not worry about school work, we can carry her while she gets her shit sorted out. she says thanks. that was a monday.

on wednesday i go out for drinks and get home around 11, as im coming into the parking lot i see that the house is open and i see my friend's boyfriend moving some shit inside. i greet him and help him get it inside. my friends sees me and i mention something about a test or something, she goes "oh yeah, im gonna write the professor tomorrow. do you want to see the stain?" i naively go "which stain?" she gives a look and grabs my hand, dragging me upstairs. "thats where the bed was, and this is where she leaked" and points to huge fucked up stain that had tinted the tiles. huh, cool. see you in class. i go home. what are you supposed to say?

sometime around june she asks me if i had seen her aunt before she passed, i mention that i would sometimes see her when going to work and say hi, but nothing major. she tells me that during the time she was dead, they had tried to get in contact with her but the old lady told her family that she had moved to italy to live in a convent and never wanted to be contacted again. "thats fucked up..." "yeah"

she asks if i can give her a cigarrette. we never touch the topic again

[foxofninetales]

This answer got long!

This definitely is gonna vary depending on the library/librarian. Library systems that have dedicated collection development librarians where that is their whole job are probably a lot more on top of things. For librarians like me - juggling collection development with desk coverage, tech support, management, programming, oh-god-what-is-that-mystery-spill-on-the-stairs-and-do-we-need-the-biohazard-kit - on the other hand...

I rely a LOT on prepub alerts (basically publisher/bookseller lists that are a mix of established bestselling authors, highly reviewed newcomers, book club picks, etc - the stuff it would be downright embarrassing to miss). A lot of my selection is also just years of experience with my local community and what is popular; by this point, there are many authors where I can at a glance confirm that they are not just a must-buy, but how many copies we should get for immediate demand and longterm use, at which branch they are likely to circulate best, and a rough ballpark of how many circulations I can expect from them within the first three years.

So that takes care of the bestsellers, hot new picks, and the top midlist authors in each genre. Then, as I have time, I do deeper dives into the mid-and-lower-list authors and genres. These are often books that are popular in their own way, but not enough to hit the major prepub alerts or that I know the authors by name. I don't have time to go through all of these every month, so I tend to rotate them - this month I might dive into Amish bonnet rippers, next month it might be mass-market cozy mysteries, etc. And part of the reason this takes longer is because I have to go and check if it is a series that we already have, is it still circulating well, did I miss any volumes between the last volume we bought and this one, etc.

Where I tend to run into problems is not so much a particular overall genre like mystery, romance, etc, as subgenres where A) series tend to be the rule rather than the exception, and B) the books have similar descriptions/plots and a very distinctive yet repetitive marketing style (especially if a lot of them come from the same publishing imprint with a house style). Examples would be:

Romantasy

Amish Romance

Cozy Mysteries

You, uh, see my problem. Though I'm cheating a little by grabbing the first covers I came to on Amazon, because I can actually eyeball-confirm that 3 of these authors are auto-buys for my system (and one of them in large print for sure or risk riots at the nursing home lobby stops). But again, YEARS of experience building that mental rolodex. This is part of why I struggle with romantasy - it's still so new as a genre that I don't have years of experiential data to pull from.

Having someone point out that I forgot to buy the latest book in a series is great not just because it catches an oops, but it also absolutely confirms that there is a reader waiting for that book. And that IS important, because budgets and shelfspace are finite; if a series doesn't circulate well we cut our losses and buy something else.

So yes, let your librarians know if there is something you want to see on your shelf! They may or may not be able to fulfill all your wishes - if they have a small materials budget there may not be much fun money left over after James Patterson et al have had their way with it - but they're far more likely to get it if you ask than if you don't!

So I do a lot of book suggestion with my public libraries because, well, I'm a big reader and I can't buy all of the books, no matter how much i might want to.

Anyway, it always completely baffles me when, with series - especially when its in ebook form where you can see fairly easily on Libby whether or not there is another installment after the one you're currently reading - *I* have to suggest the next book for it to be picked up.

And not in a 'why is the librarian not buying it' way, but rather in a 'why are people not asking for it????'

For exemple, I've been reading a series of like 5-6 books total. I suggested my library get the first ebook, suggestion got accepted, i read the book and liked it well enough. About 10-ish people were in the hold queue. Of course that doesn't mean they actually liked it but whatever.

I suggested the second book, and because of the nature of ebooks reservation, some people got to read it before me. Ok fine. I read it, about 6-7 people are on the hold queue when i finish it.

Guess what? No one asked for the third book.

For EVERY book in the series, i had to ask for the next one and i'm just...

For people to read it before me, they had to have an alert on the book so they would know when it becomes available at once. Cuz obviously I have those alerts, but even just checking 5 minutes after the notification, there would be at least 2-3 people with a hold on the book already.

And its not even a 'oh, the library will get the ebooks at a certain time every months/few months so that's why it wasn't available yet'

I finished the second to last book of the series recently. It had been available since like october-ish. I had actually started back then, but since I'm not a fan of reading ebooks, I couldnt finish the book in time, so into the hold queue I went.

I know that public library. I know how often they get their ebook. If anyone had asked for the last book, it would be available already.

It wasn't.

Do people not know they can suggest books? Is the process too obscure for them?

Anyway, there is no point to this post except to say, my good peeps, you can make books (or dvds or games or whatever kind of item your public library offer) suggestion! You usually can do it online!

If you can't find where exactly, usually just googling 'purchase suggestion' or 'reccomand a title' with the name of your public library will get you to the right page

And if you're still not sure, you should ask your librarian, they'll be happy to tell you how!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Another year has passed, and with it the opportunity to reflect back on all that has happened. While my growth was not as dramatic as last year, I can still see lots of positive change.

I'll never have enough ways to say thank you for all the love and support you have given me this year. On to 2025!

(2023 summary here!)

[youareunbearable]

Tonight is a great night to think fondly on Haleth and Caranthir. I think they would make such a funny couple.

Imagine??? The Big Tall Broody Scowling Kinslayer Who Is Also The One Reason The Economy Is Functioning At All Between The Different Races/Elvish Factions Who Probably Is Dying To Tell King Thingol/His Cousins To Fuck Off At Any Given Moment and hes looming over this short human lady??

This short human lady that Can, Will, and Already Has told him to pull the stick out of his ass and bullies him into doing normal townsfolk chores??? Lord Carathir, Master Economist and a Weaver with the skill to rival his grandmother, sitting there and darning socks cause his tiny mortal wife told him too. His reward will be a kiss on the cheek but she'll scold him while he does it because he said a mean thing about his Cousin Finrod in his last letter to her while he KNEW Finrod was visiting her.

Only three things in the world keep Caranthir in check: His Eldest Brother, The Lord Himring, The Current Head of the Feanorian Faction of Noldor, and Former High King; the idea that if he didn't complete his brothers' tax paperwork and run the Trade Routes then the Nolofinweans and Arafinweans would become more economincally important And We Cant Have That; and his 4'11 wife he met bloodied and wrathful on a battlefield screaming at an orc over the corpse of her brother-- it was love at first sight

[waspgrave]

anyway it's such a classic dragon age game experience to go 'ahhh you know i had fun with that game and am gonna play it repeatedly and love every aspect of it possible, but with the intention of headcanon'ing and filling in the gaps in my brain and fanfic and fanart until it becomes The Perfect Media. to me'

[someobscurereference]

ive been rereading your ffxv fic "im trying hard to take it back" for literally four years now. please end my suffering and tell me how gladio feels. please. PLEASE. (but only if u want ofc)

(fic) Short answer: Gladio feels insane guilt and spends a lot of his life trying to make this up to Prompto. In the process, they deepen their connection as friends and do begin a relationship probably around the one-year mark of endless darkness. <3

Longer answer: (implications of abuse/violence tw but no worse than in the fic itself; just what others assume to be true even if it's not in the context of this specific fic)

Gladio is a secret romantic at heart who has always envisioned meeting his soulmate, but he's also duty-bound and duty comes first. So even though he reads romance books (amongst other types of books too) and indulges in his head a bit as many people do, he's often put his duty to the crown first and foremost in his mind. He also didn't imagine his soulmate was anyone on this trip and thought perhaps the person he may have been fated to meet died in the assault of Insomnia. Even if they were a refugee, they can't be a priority to him at this moment. His priority has to be Noctis.

Prompto has obviously grown on him over the course of their road trip, but there are aspects of them that don't 100% mesh (as is true with every realistic relationship). That said, Gladio never in a hundred years would want this moment of (understandable but out of line) frustration and anger in the wake of Luna and Altissa to be a permanent mark on Prompto's face. He's genuinely horrified and disgusted with himself for a long time after this and spends most of his life trying to make it up. He feels like a dirtbag about it.

That said, Prompto runs away from him in this moment and they need time to calm down, just as the fic shows. Noctis goes after Prompto, just like in canon. Prompto falls off the train and has his Despair Arc just like in the DLC, now with the added despair of "well, in addition to being a clone, my soulmate hates me. And in addition to the mark of inhumanity on my wrist (barcode), I have a giant hand print of him literally Shoving Me Away on my face. Forever."

Aranea: Well, do you want to die about it. Or do you want to live.

Prompto, eventually like in canon: Live, I guess. But it will be excruciating.

Aranea: That's what living is. We do it anyway. Your friends love you. Get off the floor.

He fights his way through his issues and gets rescued like in canon. Gladio probably tries to talk to him when they all catch up again, trying to apologize, and Prompto tells him to hold off on that for later.

Then, of course, Noctis is eaten by the crystal and "later" becomes much, much later as they evacuate and try to survive in eternal darkness. (Though they also can't Not think about it because it's a giant hand print. On Prompto's face. And every person they meet has Something To Say about it, for better or worse, whether they knew Prompto before or not. Prompto cannot escape it, and when Gladio is not doing Crown Duties he feels he must do in Noct's absence, he's with Prompto, so he also Cannot Escape It either. Even when the person speaking is unaware that Gladio left that mark. It's almost worse when they don't know, but when they see it's Gladio, who is such a big guy who seemingly hit Prompto and left that permanent mark there, some of them get nasty to him and some back off out of fear. Both are horrible. The guilt is eating him alive.)

Eventually, enough time passes as the dust settles that they do Talk About It. Gladio apologizes sincerely, for the 500th time. Prompto's like, "Well. It's not like you could have known that this would be The One Time it happened." And then cracks a joke about their soulmate mark being a Prompto's hand print on Gladio's ass from a butt slap in another life, which does help the tension somewhat. (The more Gladio tries to apologize, the more Prompto grows sick of hearing it, so they just have to move on and keep going, as he's learned to do.)

They grow closer over time, especially because there's not a lot of people who have survived to this point and even less later on. They do get together romantically, both because they do like the idea of soulmates (for different reasons) and also because they're living out of each others pockets for years, so there's an affection and dependency that develops there. Also, teenage Prompto always thought Gladio was really handsome and teen Gladio thought Prompto was cute and sincere for a pipsqueak.

When they are out together on dates in normal settings surrounded by strangers after the light returns, Gladio will receive dirty looks for the rest of his life from strangers who see the hand print on Prompto's face and immediately (correctly) assumes it was out of anger rather than a funny accident or something. (Edit: Some people will assume there is a funny story attached. Gladio will not know what to say to this. Prompto will play along.) He will learn to live with this. Prompto is really grateful Gladio is with him despite everything.

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

very very tired of all the many many things :')

[pekoeboo]

ugh. some thoughts.

really been trying to find the joy in drawing/writing again and honestly it's been such a challenge. friends have told me it's most likely depression that's making it hard to feel motivated and tbh they're probably right.

hoping to get back into being creative in the way I Want to be at some point tho. I miss it. there's still so much with my stories and characters that I haven't been able to share or explain and I wish I knew how without it feeling like this daunting, impossible task.

I don't know when I'll get around to actually sharing art again (or writing, if ever). was hoping that I'd manage to get some of my mental and physical issues in check recently for just long enough to get back into the swing of being creative, but that hasn't seemed to work. everything feels bad, both artistically and physically. I'm struggling to keep up with the frantic pace at which my brain comes up with story concepts and intriguing character interactions, even tho everything in me wishes I could turn it into tangible artistic expression so I can get it out of my head and share it. it used to be easy. I don't know why it's not now.

I'm just . tired, I guess.