#conveniently posts this when no one is online...

[aimasup]

sure i COULD ramble about how ai is one of the multiple things that check all the marks of humanity's seven deadly sins but would that be extreme

^^^ possibly insufficiently educated

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

Sexism in TOS: Worst Offender, or Progressive in Retrospect in Comparison?

I see a lot of folks claim that TOS was the most sexist of the Star Trek shows by a landslide -- and while I agree that it definitely suffered from the sexism of the times, I also have other perspectives to share to give some food for thought.

I am of course not insinuating that TOS isn't sexist -- it is, but I have to ask folks to consider the breadth and depth of Berman's sexism in his run and ask yourself: Was Gene Roddenberry genuinely more sexist in his storytelling and delivery than Rick Berman?

I'm not telling you to feel one way or the other, but all I ask is that you hear me out and consider some perspectives and make your own balanced assessments. Nobody is obligated to share my opinion, but it means a lot just to have folks hear it and see their thoughts on the subject. So here is what I was originally responding to:

Someone's response to this photo:

"Devil's advocate. This was a part of the popular form of cardio during the production time of TNG. Yes, it was heavily sexualised by men, but so is literally every other way women work out. Men have been caught taking pictures of women while trying to do dead lifts, running on tracks and working on sled machines. They post them online to share too. The fact is, there is no way a woman can be shown working out without it going there. And yeah,t hat includes the combat forms of workout they do in Star Trek. Just look at how Dax dresses when she spars with Worf. Yes, they're dating, but still, same goes when 7 does and any other female.

Aerobics routines like this were made dirty and cringy. This was what women wore then by and large. This is how the workout was done. We make it cringy."

My response to them:

"I respect your take, but I disagree on a few fronts.

The miniskirt was chosen by the TOS female cast, not the male cast, specifically requested by Grace LW and affirmed by Nichelle and Majel who would go on to vehemently defend the miniskirt over the years as comfortable and embraced by them.

Grace said it was comfortable and seen as a symbol of female sexual empowerment during the 60s and thought it would be a progressive garment (and turns out that it was, as it was later adapted and worn by male crew as a skant on TNG) -- FYI those were designed by a gay man and Gene approved them.

This was also supposed to be Spock's TMP outfit:

Literally lingerie.

We saw both Uhura (who saves Kirk in from Marlena Mirror Mirror) and Yeoman Landon (the first to initiate combat with a classic Kirk-esque kick to help the Captain being attacked in The Apple) carry out their combat training in their Starfleet uniforms without ever being made to change into any ridiculous workout gear.

In fact, I'd argue Jim Kirk was sexualized even more than the ladies of the week on the show and I saw his naked body more than anyone else's on a fairly regular basis. He wore red yoga tights while topless in Charlie X while the women wore full length gymnastic suits that covered their entire body. If anything, it went out of its way to avoid sexualizing women practicing fitness in those scenes and instead focused on Kirk.

Gene confessed that he asked to have Shatner filmed in suggestive/provocative ways to "give something to the ladies", so he -- as he said -- liked to "film him walking away" or have him conveniently busting out of his shirts in just about every episode as it were, because Shatner apparently had great assets. LOL

Gene made an effort to at least sexualize both if he was going to sexualize one, and he carried that attitude forward in wanting the m/m and f/f scenes in the background on Risa for TNG. He also insisted that the men and women wear skimpy outfits on THAT TNG planet. You know the one. LOL I mean the dudes even had on less than the women:

Gene also gave permission to K/S shippers to have their conventions back in the 70s when he was asked for permission. Gene and Nimoy felt with all the skimpy outfits they had the ladies wear, why not let the ladies and gay men have their fun, too? It's how we ended up with moments like this:

Yes, those are two people dressed up as Kirk and Spock's penises doing interpretive dance. Gene didn't give two damns. LOL

In my eyes, that was a very progressive take on Gene's part for the 60s. It was actually PARAMOUNT STUDIOS who had the big problem with K/S stories and vehemently tried to shut them down. Gene literally hired slash authors on his payroll and even had several slash stories/writers published in his official Star Trek books (The New Voyages & The New Voyages II).

I feel I saw Uhura and women in TOS engaged in more physical combat/altercations defending themselves that Troi or Bev were shown holding their own.

In fact, Kirk used to get furious when someone would "dress up" his female crew members without their consent (Trelane episode, Shore Leave episode) because like his male crew members, he wanted them to be treated professionally and to also have his male crew act professionally.

Berman brought some of his own personal biases into Star Trek that in some ways regressed it. While TOS had blatant sexism and was called on it time and again, that show was made in the 60s -- a solid 21 years before TNG. We as a modern audience understood why some of it was cringe/sexist due to the time period -- look at any other media coming out in the 60s and Star Trek was miles ahead of what other shows were doing.

Compare that to Berman who was churning sexist stuff out when women like Starbuck and Scully were simultaneously on screen on other programs airing, and we had already had Sigourney Weaver and other strong women in Holywood playing respectful roles.

In my eyes, there was no need of the sexism seen in TNG but especially VOY and ENT. There was no excuse for it when other shows were writing women far better and a number of those weren't even set in the future like Trek was, making it age even faster due to having those dated perspectives frequently highlighted.

In the Center Seat documentary as well as "The Fifty Year Mission" book you will find cast members, writers and other studio alumni who attest to this. Some discussions from "The Fifty Year Mission":

"First, Berman was supposed to have been a real sleaze ball . . . According to Terry Farrel, he would go on constantly about how her breasts weren't big enough, how she should do something about it, and how his secretary was a good example to follow as she had huge breasts. She even had to have fittings to get larger bras, and that was all done at his behest.

Later Berman and Braga developed a name for Jeri Ryan's character prior Seven of Nine. They originally called the character "perineum" which if you look it up it is the area between the anus and the scrotum. Later they floated the name "6 of 9". I mean, what does it tell you about where these two were coming from in the development of this character if they had names like that put forward in all seriousness for her?"

Gene Roddenberry also had some of his own more progressive ideas for TNG cut or watered down by Berman. Roddenberry agreed TNG should have homosexual relationships and representation at a con in the 80s and insisted on it in a meeting with his writers -- something Berman later would not honor. Gene wanted the AIDS episode, showing m/m and f/f in the Riza scenes -- these were some of Roddenberry's requests to include in TNG that Berman later stonewalled.

Berman's era was sadly dated by his own misogynist bias, IMO, to the point that it can somewhat hurt the shows he worked on through his cringe egoism and blatant disrespect toward his female cast.

There is a reason why Gene could keep female actresses working with him and Berman had a revolving door of women that he couldn't seem to keep working for him -- he was abhorrent to women, on and off set. Gene wasn't perfect at all, he had a lot of issues himself -- but Berman was a whole other level. Just look at what he did to poor Jolene Blalock, Marina Sirtis and his toxic commenting on her body weight which exacerbated her struggles with eating disorders, or how he treated and talked to Terry Farrell.

Anyway, just some food for thought. I'm not saying anyone is wrong regarding a take like that, but there are a variety of ways to look at this. Gene Roddenberry isn't a saint by any means, but it definitely bothers me how folks will tote the Berman era as if it were the lesser of two evils or the more progressive depiction of women when I felt there were far more concerning portrayals of women in his era with far less justification.

(P.S: I don't event want to go near the sheer amount of "creepy old dude/villain preys on innocent/naïve/scared young woman or little girl" stories there were in Berman's era, either. But that's a whole other can of worms I can write about in a part 2.)

[cottonlemonade]

Dating You For A Bet [Part 2]

word count: 1756 || avg. reading time: 8 mins.

pairing: University AU!Matsukawa x chubby!Reader

genre: angst

warnings: bullying

[part 1]

The following days were miserable. Between dodging Matsukawa lurking outside your dorm and having to see him in most of your seminars and lectures it was hard to pretend that you didn’t care, much to the delight of the fellow students who apparently had nothing better to do or collectively lost their WiFi and were starved for entertainment. They threw glances between the two of you as if following a tennis match, although you were stubbornly pretending to follow the lesson while Issei just listlessly stared at his closed book.

He had tried to talk to you after lectures, during lunch, or when he ran into you at the convenience store but to no avail. You remained strong, frequently reminding yourself that everything from your first kiss to the first time sleeping together was solely done to win a bet. A bet! To him, you were nothing more than some easily manipulated, naive girl from a country he probably didn’t even know how to spell. The three crumpled notes from that day were still at the bottom of your trash can, unread, and now buried under more paper scraps, gum wrappers, and empty juice boxes. Your roommate hadn’t noticed or questioned why you didn’t leave in the evenings anymore to go on dates. Chances were that she had read about the whole thing online.

You were tired of it all. The initial burst of energy you felt, fueled by nothing but spite, had finally ebbed away and at this point, Christmas was drawing nearer and nearer and you ran on fumes. Having tried to deep dive into homework and assignments had left you fatigued and vulnerable, so it came to no surprise that a month after the break up you couldn’t take it anymore. You had figured that the other students would eventually move on to the next shiny thing but not so. A small group of boys and girls stood in front of the library with coffee cups steaming in their hands. You braced yourself inwardly. You just wanted to quickly return a book and then you’d be on your way again. When you approached them they interrupted their conversation to very obviously look you up and down as if judging your post-break-up fashion choices.

“I just knew there had to be a reason for him dating her.”, one of them said, deliberately loud enough for you to hear.

“Oh my god, I know right? I can’t believe she fell for it. I mean, what would someone like him ever see in someone like her.”, another piped up.

“Honestly kudos to him, I dunno if I could have gotten it up with her in bed.” They laughed.

You stopped on your way up the stairs. Matsukawa stood in front of you just coming out of the building, a tattered, well-annotated book in hand and his bag half-hearted slung over his shoulder.

The group of friends gasped quietly and hushed each other, waiting.

“Y/n…”, Issei said softly, then snapped at the others, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?!”

They laughed again but hurried inside.

“Y/-“

He couldn’t even finish the word. You had already turned around and walked away. And he would have let you get the space you needed if he didn’t see you cry. Readjusting his bag he slowly made his way down the steps and followed you, a couple of meters behind.

Whenever you missed your family he had tried to bring a bit of home to you with a traditional dish he knew you loved - that he usually messed up - or by watching a Disney movie in your native language while snuggling up on his bed under a blanket. But what had helped you most of all when you were upset was always a simple hug. And he never let go first. He made sure that you knew he would hold you as long as you needed. When you first told him you loved him he was wracked with guilt. He had since come to realize how messed up the whole thing was and tried to get out of it. He lied when his friends asked him if he had completed the bet but his roommate had only patted him on the back and accused him of being modest. And he, Issei, had forced a smile and accepted the money feeling like the most disgusting person in the world. The money still sat untouched in his sock drawer. He didn’t want to use it. He felt ashamed of himself but whenever he spent time with you he was weirdly glad that he agreed to the bet. Otherwise, who knows if he would have walked up to you as he had. Privately, to make himself feel better, he thought, of course he would have.

He would have noticed eventually how amazing you were.

He would have eventually seen how much you two had in common, that in all actuality you were his dream girl.

He would have. Eventually. Wouldn’t he?

Probably not, he had to admit. Ever since puberty hit him like a truck he walked around with a newfound level of confidence. This must have been what it was like for Oikawa back then - girls doing a double take and smiling when they saw him, little admiring love notes tucked quickly into his workbook when he wasn’t looking. All the attention slowly rose to his head and he became arrogant, leading to agreeing to a bet he would have punched his friends for in high school.

Hands in his pockets and breath forming little clouds in front of him, Issei’s heart broke all over again when he caught a small sound from you like a sniffle or a sob. As if on reflex his hand slid into the front of his bag to check for tissues, then remembered you probably wouldn’t accept them.

You finally came to a halt at a bench near your dorm. You spun around and stared at him icily through red puffy eyes.

“Stop following me. You know this is creepy, right?”

“I prefer to see it as romantic.”

You scoffed. “It’s only romantic if feelings are reciprocated.”

He swallowed hard. “… I deserved that.” Then he reached into his bag and retrieved a water bottle, walked a little closer, and held it out.

“Here, drink something. I can see you squinting like you do when you’re about to get a massive headache, come on.”

You had a retort ready to launch but your head was starting to pound from the crying so with a scowl you took it and gulped down a few sips.

“None of this makes what you did okay.”, you said, unwavering.

He nodded. “I know. - Can I hold you anyway? Just til you stop crying.”

His question made new tears well in your eyes and he closed the gap between you. Before he hugged you, he hesitated in case you would kick and scream if he did. When you only continued to cry he wrapped his arms around you. At first, it was like hugging a mannequin. Then he felt you shiver and sob harder and he squeezed you tighter.

This, the warmth of him, smell of him, soothing murmurs in your ear, made it all too easy to forget for a moment why he wasn’t yours anymore.

You subconsciously grabbed onto his jacket and he started slowly swaying from side to side. He missed you so damn much. His eyes began to sting.

And on reflex like he always had, he pressed his lips against your temple, then against your cheek, then your lips. You stiffened for a moment, then returned the kiss. With his heart swelling in his chest, he cupped your cheeks to wipe away the tears, but you were already pushing him away.

“No! You can’t just… this is not okay. You hurt me! You … you broke my heart! I feel embarrassed! And pathetic. And betrayed! Don't you understand?!”

His vision blurred and he lowered his head to stare at your shoes again to hide that he started crying as well. He just nodded at first, then took a shallow breath to calm down a little.

“I know.”, he said, his voice thick and raspy. He cleared his throat, “What I did was horrible. And immature. And there is no way I can take it back. But I do love you.”

“Tch.”

“So much. I don’t want to be without you.”

“Would you give me another chance?”, you asked suddenly.

He looked up. “What?”

“If you were in my shoes. If I did to you what you did to me. Could you just get over that? Imagine if someone way out of your league started flirting with you because they thought it was funny. Because they wanted to see if they could make you fall in love. For fun.”

“That’s not… I’m so so sorry, Y/n.”

“Stop saying that!”

“I don’t know what else to do! Please, tell me, I’ll do anything!”

“There is nothing you can do! I told you it’s over!”

“I refuse to believe that! Let me show you how much I love you! I know that some part of you still loves me, too. And I know you’ll forgive me eventually because you’re a much better person than I am.”

“I think you severely underestimate just how petty I can be and how much I love holding grudges.”, you retorted and the smallest smile twitched on his lips.

There was a pause in which his expression turned gentler again and he used the sleeve of his jacket to mop up the tears gathering on his chin. “Tell me what I can do.”

“Actually show me that you’re sorry? - And find better friends.”

“Done.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”, he said firmly, “You’ll see.”

“Hm hm.”, you said doubtfully and held out the bottle to him, “Thanks for the water. I should get going.”

“Book club tonight, right?”, he asked. It was still set as a permanent reminder in his phone’s calendar so that he’d come to pick you up afterward to walk you to your dorm.

“Actually… I have a date.”

You waited for a moment before you dared to look at him again. His face had fallen and he seemed at a loss for words. When you brushed past him you half expected him to grab your hand again, to try to talk you out of it. But nothing. He stood exactly where you left him and so you went inside.

tags because I genuinely appreciate all your comments and reblogs: @samoankpoper21 @garouaddict @gojoscloset @multi-fandom-fanfic @crazyyanderefangirlfan

[sirfrogsworth]

Early voting to beat the lines... the best-laid schemes of mice and men often go awry.

So... yesterday was quite the day.

After being stuck in bed for the past 6 weeks with some mystery slump, I was finally feeling better. So I decided I would try to cram as many errands into my day as possible. That works better for me when I drive out into the world because I end up only having to do one big recovery instead of a bunch of little recoveries.

My to-do list...

Go to the doctor

Vote early

Return oxygen machine to FedEx store for scammy eBay guy

Return Amazon package to the UPS store

Get gasoline for my whip

Go to Discount Tire to get my tires filled for free

Drop a check off for my lawn guy

Mail a secret package to Katrina at the US Post Office

It would have been nice if I could have gone to just one shipping place instead of all three, but the universe has a sense of humor and likes to do shit like that to me on a regular basis.

So, I get my checkup, it goes quick, no long wait, I'm feeling good.

As I get in my car, it starts to rain. It was an ugly day and it actually has not stopped raining to this very moment a day later. Just gray, windy, chilly, and wet. I look up the voting place and start the GPS.

Wipers and music on full blast, it's time to get my vote on.

When I reach my destination, I realize early voting is at some kind of private golf club. And at the center is a recreation center—which is a public building.

So it's like this private/public turducken situation.

I was expecting this errand to take 20 minutes. Because early voting always seemed like a way to get in before the crowds of election day for a more convenient voting experience.

But the parking lot was packed and I feared my expectations were about to be subverted.

As I walk through the parking lot I see a bunch of signs in the ground.

And a particular one caught my eye.

This is bullshit.

Like, just a straight up lie. No truth to it whatsoever.

Amendment 3 in Missouri basically restores abortion rights in the state. And Republicans have taken issue with the following language...

"The Government shall not deny or infringe upon a person's fundamental right to reproductive freedom, which is the right to make and carry out decisions about all matters relating to reproductive health care, including but not limited to prenatal care, childbirth, postpartum care, birth control, abortion care, miscarriage care, and respectful birthing conditions."

They claim the phrasing "but not limited to" means you can give an 8-year-old kid "sex change surgery."

This is how their online flyer puts it...

It could also include a free puppy.

Or a zillion bucks.

Or a clown will come to your house after the abortion and honk your nose.

It's ridiculous and desperate. I honestly don't know how it is legal for them to put a lie like that outside of a polling location, but here we are.

The organization "Missouri Stands with Women" is run by... a man.

It was set up by a lawyer named "Edward Greim" on behalf of the Federalist Society.

His law firm has a lovely biography about him. And a bunch of publicly available contact information. I say that for no reason whatsoever.

The Federalist Society funds all kinds of shit like this. Their main thing is installing conservative judges all over the country who will reinterpret or negate legislation. And they do it all to "stand with women" by taking away their reproductive rights.

Here is the board of directors of the Federalist Society.

Ya know, before I looked this up, I said to myself, "I bet it's going to be a sausage fest." I am psychic.

I think it would be more accurate to say they stand with A woman.

Just one.

And she sucks.

Nicole is a law professor at Notre Dame. She chose her Catholicism over her right to choose. The Catholic Church will fuck your rights and your children and Nicole will help them do it.

Anyway... back to my quick and easy voting experience...

So as I'm walking in to vote I keep passing a ton of these awful signs. I notice an older woman standing next to the aforementioned "child sex change" sign and she says, "Can I talk to you about Amendment 3?"

At this point, I'm pretty angry. I look her dead in the eyes and say with my most assholish tone, "NO." as I walk past her.

And then she finishes her sentence...

"...to protect the reproductive rights of women."

Ah, dammit.

I thought she was an old Karen but she was cool as heck. Standing out in the rain telling people the sign is bullshit. I wanted to turn around and apologize but I was stuck in full social anxiety mode so I just kept walking.

If that old lady happens to have a Tumblr and follows me and is willing to read this giant story... I just want to say I am sorry. I thought you were awful and I should have let you finish your sentence. You're super cool and I'm happy there are folks like you fighting for what is right.

I get inside and a young woman greets me. She tells me the line is in the next room and points. I still wasn't quite sure what the situation was. The parking lot being full gave me pause, but I was still hopeful I could have a swift early voting experience.

But I walk through the doors and into a huge gymnasium and my heart sinks.

It's hard to represent in pictures how long this line is.

It goes all the way to the end of the gym, loops around, and comes back. At first I was not too discouraged, because there was a nice gentle ramp at the start of the line.

But then I notice several sets of stairs at different stages of the line. And I'm just thinking how hard it would be to stand in this line and then also having to go up and down several sets of stairs.

So I go back to the young woman working there and ask what their accessible voting options are. And she told me I could do curbside voting and points outside. I then notice a line of cars wrapped around the parking lot. I don't know how I didn't see them walking in, but I guess I was too busy being a jerk to elderly progressive women.

My biggest concern was time.

The longer this takes, the more energy I use up, the longer my eventual recovery will be.

They tell me the car option is the slowest. And I could be in line for 2 to 3 hours. And then an old man who seemed to be in charge walks over and tells me the fastest option is to stand in line.

So I walk back out to my car and grab my cane and decide to try the long serpentine gynasium line.

I start walking up the ramp and some of the other folks see how slow and labored I'm walking and they start encouraging me. "You can do it! You got this!" Which I suppose was meant to be a positive helpful thing. But I found it to be embarrassing.

I get to the end of the line and notice most of the line has bleachers directly next to it. So I decide to sit down and rest and figure out how I am going to survive this experience.

It took me a while to recover from the long walk to this spot. I watched a bunch of people pass me by and the line was actually getting much longer as I rested. I was not really sure what to do. I was trying to problem-solve this situation but the answer that kept popping up in my mind was just... "go home."

But I felt this was too important and that wasn't really an option.

My best idea was to ask someone if they would hold my spot in line. Perhaps I could just sit in the bleachers and follow them around in the line, staying as close to them as I could. But my social anxiety was set to maximum and I was not finding the courage to ask someone.

After about 10 minutes of sitting, resting, and thinking, I basically say, "Fuck it, I'll try to stand in line."

I get up and start walking to the end of the line.

Then I hear a voice yell out to me.

"Hey, man! Come over here! This is your spot!"

A young man was waving at me. He was accompanied by his wife. Both of them were dressed in black and they had a sort of goth skater aesthetic going on. He had a competitively bushy beard, but with less gray. And she had very vivid purple hair.

I was a little confused and still processing what was happening. Then they both started waving at me to join them in line. They remembered I got there just before and told me I should be in front of them. I walk over and thank them. Then he suggests...

"Hey, why don't you just sit in the bleachers and follow us around the line."

He suggested my idea!

Without me asking!

I felt like he read my mind or something.

Can bearded people read each others' minds? Was this some beard skill I was unaware of?

"I got you, man. You just sit and we'll keep your place."

And his violet hair'd significant other agreed. "Yeah, we got you."

The kindness of strangers was more accessible than my polling place and I was just so thankful in that moment.

So I sat in the bleachers and watched them traverse the line. In the middle of the gym there were some teenagers playing basketball. And so I just rested and watched them play.

That young man in the red pants was like a goddamn Harlem Globetrotter. He was just embarrassing the others. He was bouncing the ball behind his back and through his legs and then he just danced around his opponents like a figure skater. It was such an unbalanced matchup. He might as well have been playing 4th graders. Not only was he significantly faster and more maneuverable, but he was consistently hitting 3-pointers.

And then during a break, he ran towards the hoop, jumped from the free throw line, flew all the way to the net, grabbed onto the rim, and proceeded to do several pull ups as if they were the easiest thing in the world. I don't think I've seen anyone jump that far and that high in real life and it was just a bonkers display of athleticism.

I spent the entire wait watching him humiliate the others—hoping he would get a full ride scholarship to some prestigious university.

And I hoped the other boys paid attention in school and got straight As, because basketball was not going to work out for them.

As my new goth skater friends progressed through the line, I would make sure to keep sight of them. Every once in a while I'd give them a head nod to acknowledge we were in this together. After an hour and a half they were at the final segment of the line, so I sat next to the wheelchair folks.

I probably could have argued to sit with them in the first place. But I really did not feel like making the case that I was just as disabled as them and needed that level of consideration. The old man running things seemed quite stressed and was putting out 8 fires at once. And my anxiety wasn't really cooperating enough to be assertive in my needs.

But it worked out in the end, so I'm not going to dwell on the lack of accommodation for people who weren't *visually* disabled.

My new bearded friend neared the end and waved me over. I thanked him and his wife profusely.

I joked, "Thank you for adopting a voter."

They seemed confused by my joke.

"No problem, man. Happy to help."

I told him and his wife they truly saved me. "I honestly don't think I would have made it through the line." And then I looked back...

I said, "As crazy as this is, I do find this kind of turnout encouraging." His wife agreed and said, "We were saying the same thing!" And then I thought, "Can the wives of bearded people absorb the mind reading ability? I hope she can't read my mind right now. Although, I'm mostly thinking that her hair is a really cool shade of purple, so she'd probably find that complimentary."

As I waited to get my ballot I could hear the happy couple behind me. They were very cute. They were making fun of each other in a very lovey-dovey fashion. I had high hopes they were going to grow old and gray and purple together based on their chemistry. And I was just so thankful they were able to recognize that I needed help without me asking. Because I probably would have just caved to my anxiety and not asked for help otherwise.

I got my ballot and sat down to fill in all of the appropriate squares. Thankfully I had prepared a cheat sheet on my phone.

It was an exact replica so I was able to copy it and finish quite rapidly.

Then I fed my votes into the vote-eating monster and they gave me a sticker.

My quick 20 minute adventure to vote early only took 2.5 hours!

And because I didn't want to buck tradition, I stood outside in the wind and the rain and took a voting selfie.

Yep, that seems about right.

Ah, crap... that was only the second thing on my to-do list.

Let's speedrun the rest of this story, shall we?

I drove to FedEx. I hauled a 40 pound box inside. I plopped it on the counter and said, "Man, this thing is heavy!" as I tried to catch my breath. The 20 year old working there then lifted it like it was a feather and I felt great about that.

I drove to the gas station because I was nearly on empty—that is both a metaphor and not a metaphor. I filled my ride with go juice.

I noticed I was a mile from the tire store and they fill up tires for free. So I did that and the guy was super nice and complimented my tires. I felt both weird and proud about having my tires complimented. Like, I had nothing to do with my tires being nice. But I accepted the praise on their behalf.

I drove to the UPS store. The last time I was there I made a scene. They refused to box up a return and I got upset and wasn't feeling well and they had to find a chair for me to sit in because I was going to faint. So I was hoping the same woman wasn't there, but she was. She didn't recognize me, so it was fine.

I drove to my lawn guy's house. He wasn't home. I dropped a check in his mailbox. My checks have corgis on them. My checks are cute.

I drove to the post office. I sent a secret package to my bestie, Katrina. I'd tell you what is in it, but it is an inside joke and you wouldn't get it. The woman noticed my voting sticker and I couldn't help thinking about what I just accomplished to get that sticker.

On my way out I noticed a miracle.

2 of the 4 doors were fixed!

I mean, I don't know why they couldn't fix all 4, but now the employees won't freeze in the winter. So I take that as a win. It only took a year and a half to accomplish and I'm sure all of my phone calls and emails did not help at all. But I'm going to pretend I saved the day regardless.

And then... I drove home.

5 hours of errands.

I was so fucking tired. My back was on fire with pain. I immediately collapsed into my bed. I passed out. And I slept for 14 hours.

The End

[theriverbeyond]

DEATH FIRST TO VULTURES AND SCAVENGERS

🦴 Harrow, photo editing, bones et al by me! 📸 photo and harrow robe by @trickstercheshi

took these pics like 2? months and then totally forgot to post them here! anyway Harrow currently features 122 hand sculpted bones (86 of which are in the rosary!), not counting the spares I made or the 336 resin teeth I bought & drilled for her bracelets and waist chain.

my central requirement for this cosplay is basically that every bone (except the face/ear jewlery) HAS to be made as close as possible in size and shape to an anatomically accurate human bone, because I am nothing of not committed to the inherent wonder of human anatomy. this means: no bone tits, no sizing bones up or down as convenient for aesthetics, no animal bones. I think it turned out great and I'm soooooo excited to make EVEN MORE bones for when I wear her next >:3

rigcage progress is documented on tumblr here, and under the cut are some extra ramblings & detail photos of her rosary & stole!

the rosary is based off of normal catholic rosaries, altered it to fit Ninth House aesthetics. a normal rosary has 5 sections ("Mysteries") made of 10 beads each.

MY rosary has nine (9!!) sections for the Ninthefold ressurection, with each section being made of 8 bones. specifically, each section is made of carpal bones, and there is one carpal bone per section to represent each populated House. anatomy fun fact! humans have 8 different carpal bones in the body (one set in each wrist) all of which I lovingly sculpted to attempted anatomical accuracy.

phalanges are the "separating" ("Our Father"?) beads, and the hanging centerpiece is a metacarpal articulating with 3 phalanges -- "the knuckle of your great-grandmother that represented the Rock, and the Universe, and God." (HtN p. 118).

I went back and forth on what I wanted the centerpiece to be, because "knuckle" has an original anatomical meaning (the talus bone -- of like, sheep, so not an option here per my central requirement) but it also has several colloquial meanings. I've heard "knuckle" being used to describe both the interphalangeal joints of the fingers and the metacarpalphalangeal joint as well. I actually did end up sculpting a life sized human talus bone to test how it would look as the centerpiece, but rejected it due to it simply looking very goofy due to scale and size (it was too big 😔). I also learned how to do a proper hail mary knot for this!

anyway: behold some more pics

for Harrow's stole, I was inspired by @/thatbonejunky's art here as well as @/bondibee's art here! I really wanted to lean into the religious leader aspect of her character. Harrow as not the Reverend *Daughter*, but the *Reverend* Daughter -- especially as this is, due to my own proclivities, definitely a Butch Harrow™ cosplay. The fabric is this cool celtic pattern from JoAnns and the skull is applique + hand beading! I went back and forth on if I should give her tassles on the bottom or not but honestly it came down to tassels just seeming more dramatic, and Harrow deserves this

phew ok that was a lot of rambling. all bones are made of creative paperclay, an air dry clay, and painted with basic acrylics. did you know you can find hundreds of free 3D models of bones free online on sketchfab or by searching "[bone name] 3D model". what was i saying. anyway. i love bone :)

[vroomvroomcircuit]

Sometimes you need to be loud before it can be quiet

Summary: Everyone has their breaking point, even prefectly fine media trained drivers. Especially when people start asking dumb, sexist questions.

Pairing: driver!reader x f1!grid, but mostly Daniel Ricciardo and Max Verstappen, Lando and Charles have a bit of a guest appearing

Wordcount: 1.2k (she is a shy shorty, please be nice to her)

🏎Masterlist🏎 _________________________

“My next question is for (Y/N): What do you want to be perceived as?”

Everyone in the post race press conference halts in their movements. (Y/N) blinks once, twice before she clears her throat and gets closer to her microphone. “I’m sorry, can you please elaborate on that? I fear my English is failing me to comprehend what you just said.”

The reporter is not hesitating, jumping into his explanation right away, as if he had chosen the words he wanted to say beforehand. “Well, you participate in a male dominated sport, being currently the only female on the grid line up. You are never seen in typically female clothing. You even wore a suit to the last FIA gala. We have yet to see you in makeup outside of festivities. That’s why I am asking what you want to be perceived as. A man? A woman? Or something in-between?”

Silence has never been so loud. Nobody really knows how to respond to such an audacity.

(Y/N) pulls her microphone another bit closer before murmuring into it: “I rather be not perceived at all. Thank you for the question, I wanted to clear that bit up for quite some time now.”

Her answer brought a booming laughter out of the one and only Daniel Ricciardo, effectively breaking that spell of awkwardness that has been cast over the room by Mr Audacity. Everyone relaxes and joins in the laughter.

As the media representative is about to call onto the next journalist, Max asks a question. “Can we all answer this? Because I want to make it clear, I identify as a problem and want to be perceived as that.”

“Yeah”, Daniel interjects,”of course you do. I want to be perceived as a menace to human kind, please. What about you, Lando?”

“Number 1 Fish Hater, certified and trademarked already,” he answers with a cheeky smile.

Charles breathes “I’m a hot mess” into his microphone before the media representative is able to call onto the next person.

The following race weekend the drivers stand in the media pits with their PR managers, hopping from interviewer to interviewer like at a speed dating event.

“-overall I would say we have a good pace. I’m confident in the team to help us through this race in spite of the unpredictable weather conditions this weekend.” (Y/N)’s answers the usual questions that are thrown at her after sessions.

The journalist smiles at her. “I am sure of that. Now, onto my last question: Last week you have been asked what you want to be perceived as and you never really answered that. Why is that?”

(Y/N) throws a not amused look towards the woman. “I didn’t feel like it. I didn’t want to answer a question that is just a poorly disguised attack towards my femininity. I can like fast cars and dress however I want without having to answer something like that. I’m secure enough in my own gender identity as a woman to be able to express myself in all the ways I want without having my actions impede on my identity or expression of my gender. I will put on a dress when I feel like it, I will get the brushes out for a glam makeup when it is convenient for me and I don’t have to do ‘typically female’ things just to please the public opinion.

Instead of going around and judging, just work on why you have this urge to comment on my expression of gender in the first place, because your insecurities surrounding my gender don’t look cute on you.”

After that (Y/N) is practically dragged away from the media pit by her PR manager, who probably already has a headache thinking about the mess that will follow on social media and certain online magazines.

But the few drivers who stood around them, having media duties to follow themselves, just stared impressed and with deep respect after the young woman. She usually is softer spoken and obviously went through bootcamp media training. This was the first time they witnessed speaking her true mind in an interview.

Back in her driver's room, where she gets ready for the debrief, (Y/N) realizes the kind of mistake she just made.

Her little outburst will definitely get more of a reaction than it would if a Max Verstappen would have said something along these lines.

Before her inner eye she sees the headlines. Something about women being too emotional for motorsports. Her being too young, too hot headed, too much of everything and somehow not enough of everything.

The team will replace her, the negative PR not leaving them any other choice. The pressure on them is too much, they already took a big chance on her by giving the driver a seat in Formula 1 in the first place.

With the news of her sudden contract ending, at least one news outlet will write “The little experiment failed”, paving an even more difficult path for other women trying to prove themselves in motorsports.

And all that just because she wasn’t able to let this stupid question roll right off her back.

A sudden knock on her door breaks (Y/N) free from her downward spiral of thoughts. Max enters the room with Daniel on his tail. “This was amazing. How you told this interviewer off on life camera? And her face? After you went out, we just had to clap. It was so cool. You were so right, too. I’m so proud you finally spoke your mind. The audacity of these people.”

It seems like Max doesn’t need to breathe, judging from his rant.

Daniel has a much softer approach. He puts a hand on her shoulder, making her look up at him. “I hope you know that you had to say that back there. Even if you are ‘only’ a rookie this season, the questions you got the last couple of weeks were anything but ok or nice. Sometimes you need to be loud before it can be quiet.”

(Y/N) shoots him a thankful smile, squeezing the hand on her shoulder with her own. “You are right. It was just a bit overwhelming at first. But I can see the appeal now. I think I have to take a few classes with Max, because the concept of saying what you think got a new fan and that’s me. It’s the best thing I have done in the context of handling media duties.”

“No, you won’t do that”, (Y/N)’s PR manager stands in the doorway, probably to fetch her for the debrief. “In this case it was a good thing to do. Important, too, of course. The fans are eating this up on social media. They already made edits with the clips. But I don’t get paid what Max’ or Lando’s managers get, so you will return to your media trained good girl roots.” With that (Y/N) gets pulled out of the room by her. Max throws her a subtle nod, to which she smiles.

Sometimes you need to be more than the good girl, especially if it’s for your own sake. Who knows, maybe this is the beginning of the story of another media-nightmare-driver.

[inthisuproar]

Was going to write this as a reply to something but realized it needed its own post.

The tl;dr is that, from the looks of it, Automattic absolutely has every intention of turning Tumblr into a marketing media platform.

I work for a marketing company. I build websites.

Specifically, I build websites on Wordpress.org, which is operated by the Wordpress Foundation.

The Wordpress Foundation is the non-profit counterpart to the for-profit company Automattic.

Automattic, as we know, is the company that currently owns Tumblr.

Now, the thing about Wordpress.org (not to be confused with Wordpress.com) is that it's very, VERY popular amongst small businesses. Not only can you build a fully-customizable website with relative ease, you can also add an online shop using another Automattic product: Woocommerce.

Not too long ago, I noticed a new feature was added to Woocommerce: A button next to each Woocommerce product which allows you to Blaze them to Tumblr right from the comfort of your dashboard:

This is what I get when I click that little "Blaze" button...

As someone who understands these tools, I understand the potential implications of these features:

The Blaze feature is basically an up-and-coming ad campaign system that's directly integrated with Woocommerce websites, which I think is the first ad marketing system of its kind. You don't have to log into a social media account to advertise your products, use a second-party integration, or even pay another service to manage your social media ads. It's all baked right into your business's website.

THIS is their planned money-maker, folks, not the rainbow checkmarks or crab armies. And the reason why Automattic would do this kind of thing is simple: Businesses are wealthier than individuals. By implementing a B2B service, Automattic can make more money off of Tumblr than user subscriptions and shoelaces will ever provide.

It's all the same song and dance. Businesses can now shove more ads into your face in a new, convenient fashion. It'll be ads that don't look like ads disguised amongst ads that do look like ads, just like it is with Facebook, TikTok, Instagram, and literally every other marketing media service that calls itself a "social" media.

(Tumblr's new video feature? My guess is that it's there to prepare for video-format Blaze campaigns. Influencer-style videos are the only kind of ad format Gen-Z is receptive to, which is why you're suddenly seeing videos on every platform.)

All they really gotta do now is make Tumblr look appealing to the normies so they can draw in a userbase that isn't trying to escape the onslaught of commercialism that plagues other sites.

Tumblr is one of the last true social medias we have; a place where content is made purely for the sake of talking about it. But given the writing on the wall...I doubt it'll stay that way.

[chipsarchiveblog]

Hey Deltarune Fandom

I know its 3am as I wright this but I think I found something online that might be important- or at least, be something to consider- food for thought and all that jazz-

you see, I was scrolling thought reddit when I came upon a particular post...

it starts of seeming very normal, right? I mean, it's just your average detarune fan asking about equipment advice, right?

but.. somethings... off, to say the least......

Not only is the wording weird when talking about Spamton, (with the phrasing of "Spamton dude" being particularly odd, as to get to Spamton's shop, you need to get fairly familiar with him and his character, but this user seems to be acting like this is their first time meeting him.) But Spamton HIMSELF seems to look... Different than usual. Or, at lease, different than his usual shop sprite that is...

and I was not alone on this sentiment, as the comments noticed too!

which leads to wonder....

... yeah, that...

To which OP provided an... Interesting answer....

D-.... Didn't have the money? But, deltarune is free game? Or, at least, Chapter's 1 and 2 are...

you see, a while back, Toby mention online that Chapters 3, 4, and 5 would all be released together, and, unlike the first two, cost money. (or as a certain salesman would phrase it, cost some [[Sweet, Sweet KROMER]]!!!)

Not only that, but its kinda ironic that this user pirated a copy of a free game, and have the one character who has a history with shady links (or in other words, [[Hyperlink Blocked]]) be the one who's changed... Almost as if this bootleg game has its own bootleg of Spamton... The one character who literally tries to be a bootleg of ANOTHER character in-universe. *Cough cough* Swatch- *Cough cough*

But this also leads to question... are there any other differences in the game? I mean, it is a pirated game, surely there has to be some other differences from the original game other than some seemingly random shop sprite of spamton, right?

luckily, I was not the only one who was curious about this and a user by the name of kuro50 ask OP to quote:

To which OP responded:

how... convenient.....

I mean- don't get me wrong- I get that feeling not having any program to record with (though than again OBS Studio exist)- but even still, all of this seems a little bit too, odd to just let off as something "normal"...

but, than again, its not like there's anything necessary wrong about it either, right? I mean, sure, it weird that someone pirated a free game, but, maybe they're just some gullible kid online?

...Except, a user by the name of ThePotatoPerson510 pointed out a few striking things...

And then... it all stared to click...

I went to check the profile and, just as ThePotatoPerson510 had said,

"u/ThatDudeTobias, Cake day December 27, 2022, made 12 hours ago..." the same hour as the spamton post was made... almost as if the account was made just so they could post this.... (Note: the previous image in this post of the spamton post says it was made 10 hours ago. This time gap is because I have been writing this post for 2 hours straight now- coming onto 3 hours- as such, I give you this screenshot showing both the post and the profile, and thus, showing they were in fact made in the same hour-)

MID WRIGHTING UPDATE: It seems as if there WAS a time gap between the two post, as its 5:24am and I just took THIS screenshot showing the time gap. Take this how you will I suppose ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now, about the name... It seem kinda... on the nose, to say the least. I mean, Toby, Tobias, seems a little to similar, right? But, at the same time, knowing Toby, he would be the type to use a seemingly obvious while still not TOO obvious name to fuck with us (he DOSE have a history with being a troll when it comes to his games ¬_¬||)

Also, looking back at the spamton image and comparing it to the name "Tobias", they both share one thing in common... They're both SIMILAR to their originals, to the point where you can tell what they're based off of, but, somewhat off...

As for the one other post on the account, well...

its..

... A comment on MeIRL?

Well, what's the original post?

A..... Video of some guy walking up the stairs, only to keep looping up the same steps, unable to get to the end?

Well, that's... anticlimactic..... Sooo.... Is this just some random account then? Was all of this just for nothing? Was it all red hearings in the end? Well, that's what I thought..

For you see, I realized something....

Toby Fox is a well-known fan of anime, but, not just any anime.... specifically, JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE. How do we know this? Well, in undertale, there is an item in the game called a Punch Card

When this card is used in battle, it says, "OOOORAAAAA!!! You rip up the punch card! Your hands are burning!" This increases your attack. "ORA" Is a common phrase screamed in JOJO' when one of the Jostar's are attacking.

Not only that, but in deltarune, main antagonist of chapter 2 is Queen.

her battle theme? Attack of the Killer Queen

Killer Queen is the stand of Yoshikage Kira. The main antagonist of JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE: Diamond is Unbreakable. Which is the 4th Chapter of the series.

So, what dose ALL of this have to do with the video "Tobias" commented on? Well, you see, in JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE: Stardust Crusaders, when Polnareff, one of the main protagonist, tries to walk up the stairs to face DIO, the main antagonist, he finds himself in the same loop as the man in the video. Continuously walking up the same set of stares, unable to reach the end.

Meaning, the video that "Tobias", or, as we presume, Toby commented on was in fact...

A JOJO REFFERANCE, AND THUS, MAKES PERFICT SENCE AS TO WHY HE WOULD COMMENT ON IT

...... And so with that last tidbit out of the way, we are left with 3 conclusions that we can come to... 1. This "Tobias" is actually Toby Fox teasing us about Chapter 3 and or some other upcoming scheme of his he has up his sleaves.

2. This "Tobias" is actually Toby Fox just fucking with us

and 3. This is some third party not affiliated with Toby but still making something and teasing it (possibly and ARG or something of sorts) .... That or I've just spent over 3 hours of my life typing this up only for it to be a shitpost by Temmie or something :/

either way its 6:41am as I type this and I have not slept all night so I hope you liked this deep dive analysis into this possibly important reddit account that could hold significant lore for the upcoming chapters of deltarune and if you'll excuse me I'm going to go collapse on my couch for the rest of the day :) have a wonderful time zone <3

[ylangelegy]

montage of love ꩜ seungmin x reader.

── .✦ 💌 reader uses she/her pronouns. includes: idol!ksm, feelings realization, [childhood] friends to lovers, freeform, time skips, fluff, light angst.

── .✦ 🚏 self-indulgent and prose-heavy with a reference to Twenty-Five Twenty-One! originally posted on ao3.

── .✦ 📟 wc: 1,600+

Seungmin’s poorly concealed indifference towards her is probably the biggest tell of his affections.

She’s known him for so long, after all, growing up in the same Gangnam neighborhood. Their mothers stayed in touch, too, so Seungmin knows all about the course she’s taking up at university and the sporting competitions she’s winning first place in. 

Had things been any different, Seungmin is sure he would have been urged to pursue her. As a teenager, the thought would have repulsed him. Now that he’s a bit older, he’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t cross his mind at least once.

Maybe a couple of times. 

Maybe every single time he got to go home, really, because there she always was. A few houses down, their basement converted into a flower shop.

He wishes sometimes that it wasn’t flowers, because he sees flowers everywhere, which means she haunts him even when he’s miles and miles away. 

They don’t keep in touch online. They only ever see each other when his mother sends him out to buy a fresh bouquet for the living room vase.

Never mind that Seungmin comes home hours late, his face flushed and his answers curt. She always gives him the prettiest arrangements to make up for their rendezvouses.

(And, secretly, their mothers are still hopeful.)

But there was no romance in their meetings. Not the first dozen, anyway.

She would close up shop for an hour or two so they could visit a nearby convenience store or some obscure cafe. And when the group’s popularity began to pick up, Seungmin didn’t have to say anything. Their walks began to veer into quieter neighborhoods, more secluded spots. 

He doesn’t want to love her. He doesn’t have time for any of that, anyway.

But when she mentions offhandedly that a classmate flirted with her, Seungmin flexes his hand unconsciously. He feels the sudden urge to swing a bat at something.

And when she says it didn’t work out, Seungmin is embarrassingly relieved. 

She notices, laughs, reaches out for his hand. He doesn’t move away.

So Seungmin cares for her. He lets himself admit that much.

None of the boys know for the longest time, but he lets slip in front of Minho and Felix and Jeongin one day that he’s going back to Samseong-dong for the night because it’s his 여자친구’s birthday. 

Girlfriend. They all balk, even Seungmin. His what? 

Seungmin doesn’t bother to correct himself. He leaves his roommates in a general state of confusion and spends the night with her in her flower shop, eating take-out on the floor and talking about his latest trip overseas.

He contemplates, then, asking her what they are. But Seungmin has never been the type to rock the boat. Not when something is still good. 

They spend most of their time together in her shop. Rarely anyone who knows him stops by. It’s always an old man, an apologetic husband, a clueless boyfriend.

He asks her, one night, which flower she likes the most, and she simply says, “All of them.”

So he watches a couple of YouTube videos and arranges a bouquet with a little bit of everything. She tells him to stop wasting her resources but keeps the arrangement in the back room until they wilt. 

Though the boys ask, Seungmin never dignifies their questions with a response. They stop prying when they realize he’s not about to crack. They follow the breadcrumb trail instead, the traces of her that are difficult to avoid. 

Passport photos that Seungmin keeps at the bedside table of every hotel. Pictures he never posts but sends to someone, not the fan Bubble or the like.

And when they’re back home, he’s always hitting the ground running. The typically put together, restrained Kim Seungmin has started rushing, speed walking “home” after extended trips abroad. 

One day, his roommates look out their window and spot who he’s running towards.

Seungmin is in love with her, he eventually concedes. Big deal, he thinks.

He doesn’t really realize just how much it matters until he tells her offhand I think I might be in love with you and she freezes. Then laughs. She laughs and laughs and laughs, and he leaves the shop that night with the tips of his ears red.

They don’t talk for a week. Chan even pulls him aside at one point, concerned because all his recordings are too sad, too angry. 

She meets Seungmin at his dorm one evening and apologizes about her reaction. She was trying to act cool, she admits. And then she says, I think I might be in love with you, too.

Seungmin wants to laugh coldly, wants to get back at her, but there’s something so earnest in her confession that he knows she means it. 

Their first day as a couple goes by without much fanfare. Slowly but surely, she becomes more known to him. When he introduces her, formally and finally, to the boys, they are all shocked at the Kim Seungmin he becomes without him even noticing. 

He keeps an envious, watchful eye on all the members. There is always some form of connection between them; their knees touching, his arm around her shoulders, his fingers twisting a strand of her hair.

When she speaks, he nods in all the right places. “Call me when you get home,” he tells her as she leaves, and she rolls her eyes like it’s something he’s said a thousand times before. 

Seungmin dismisses the boys’ jokes about it. He has no idea, it seems, just how unfathomable his love is to others. And is that not the best kind? His affection is almost intrinsic, instinctual.

To him, loving her was as practical as breathing. 

“Did you ever really love me?” she asks bitingly during a particularly nasty row. The details are hazy, now, about what had them bringing out their claws and spewing venom.

It could have been Seungmin’s jealousy. It could have been her aloofness.

Nothing justified her question.

Seungmin recoils like she’d hit him. He stares at her, hard and angry. “Watch what you say,” he hisses, his voice impossibly tight and his eyes deceptively dry.

She has her lips pursed and her arms crossed. She’s poised and raring to fight, and waiting for the right answer. But Seungmin is stubborn, and tired, and what kind of question was that? 

There’s no way she could have known, or even seen, the way that Seungmin looked at her. The devotion in his expression. Oh, he practically worshiped the ground she walked on.

And here she was, questioning that. How dare she, Seungmin thought. 

What do I have to do? he wanted to ask. Do you want me to yell your name off rooftops? Give everything in my life up to prove it? Say the word. Say the word and I’ll show you just how much I love you. 

He says none of that. Instead, he does what he does best: He watches her leave. He watches her retreating back, watches the light blink out from the window of her room, watches their KakaoTalk conversation receive no updates for yet another grueling week.

He doesn’t even find out that she’s fallen ill from her. It’s his mother who tells him in a conspiring whisper. 

He shoulders into her room despite her protests and treats her until he’s coughing and sneezing, too. They switch roles.

“Is this enough proof?” he asks one night, delirious and drugged. Then, for the first time, with his whole chest, he says: “I love you.” 

She strokes his forehead with a damp handkerchief. Her eyes are dry but they shine, twinkle, and quietly, dozens of times over, she says it back. 

They’re able to keep it a secret for four years. Even the most harsh of critics begrudgingly have to hand it to them. What phenomenal discipline! What utmost consideration! Why did she never demand, never ask to have a bigger share of his life?

The short answer: She was happy. She didn’t need the whole world to know that she was the idol’s muse. She was content to watch his stages and know that he would be coming home to her for the weekend. 

Right before he enters military service, he releases a SKZ-Player. 사랑의 몽타주. Montage of love. And its hers, wholly hers, referencing their relationship, promising a safe return.

Fans think its about them. She knows who it’s really for. 

And when the 21 months of service is over, Seungmin is a bit of a changed man. Enough to stand before the higher-ups of JYP Entertainment, and then his adoring fans, to tell them all that he is in love. He has been for quite some time now. And there’s nothing he wants to do more than to keep making music, and be in love with that one person, if they’d all still have him. He asks, too, for his privacy to be respected. 

People do, for the most part, but she’s still found out.

Her flower shop booms in popularity. Old classmates from uni blow up her inbox. She waits for Seungmin to come home to her after his surprise pronouncement and can’t decide if she’s going to hug or slap him.

He gives her the long answer: He’s tired of hiding. He doesn’t care what might happen to his career. And the boys, he ran it through them, and they all think the same. 

If you love someone, why hide it? If you love someone, let it be known.

Seungmin takes her hand. “Let’s go out,” he urges.

It’s late in afternoon. Most of their dates have been snatched up moments; evenings in parking lots, backstage in dressing rooms. 

But the day is warm and promising, and the flowers are in full bloom. And Seungmin is looking at her, expectant and hopeful, his hand trembling ever so slightly.

And she can’t say no.

She squeezes his hand. “Let’s go out,” she repeats. 

He smiles, then. Indifference be damned.

They walk out of the store and the flowers lean towards them like they're somehow brighter than the noonday sun. 

[seijorhi]

Just wanted to let you know that that oikawa soulmate drabble you just posted is such a banger. I can just imagine the look on oikawa’s face as he’s reading the caption on his soulmate’s socials . . . Does he decide then and say, f waiting gotta go find her and remind her of their agreement? Does he blast her name out after winning his next game, saying it’s because of her that he’s been able to accomplish so much and then conveniently shares a reel of that victory speech to one of your friends who likes volleyball and happens to be friends with his fake profile?

There are so many ways this scenario could go and it’s always so interesting and thrilling the way you leave your drabbles open-ended✨✨

Thank you for sharing!

well first of all there's the epic tantrum he throws. tears, snot, a shattered phone. basically wrecks his bedroom, tears at his hair and screams into his pillows. a very measured, healthy response.

ONCE he calms down (which he will, eventually) that's when he gets plotting. oikawa's not a man who takes losing well, he's also not the type of guy to hit back with only one

up until that point, he'd managed to talk himself out of physical stalking. the online stuff was fine, because you'd made it public, you'd posted it and put it out into the world, but actually following you home, finding out your day-to-day routine – when he can afford to, those rare, precious days off – that would've been creepy. or... crossing a line, at least. a step too far. but now he knows there's some asshole trying to weasel into his girl's life, take his place–

six months, six months, six months, six months, six months, six months

–he doesn't feel all that torn up about it. and while he spends his time between volleyball and you, he's sure he can spare some cash to throw at a pi to look into your boyfriend too. surely the asshole's got a few secrets he can use against him. no one's perfect, and everyone's exploitable. he could probably pay one of the girls at that asshole's office to get him in a compromising position, take a few photos and send them your way. he could probably pay someone to drag him into an alley on his way home and beat the fuck out of him too, but that one's a little dicier. more of a 'plan b' situation, he thinks.

he's always been pretty tight lipped about his soulmate status. his teammates have undoubtedly caught a glimpse or two, but they know he doesn't talk about it, and it's too personal a thing to just casually drop into conversation. publicly, he's never said a word.

until now.

he'll make it sound like a cinderella moment. one of those missed connections stories people go nuts over. he'll say that he saw you through the crowds after one of his games, just a glimpse before you were swallowed up. never got your name, never even had a chance to speak to you, but your eyes met for a split second, a heartbeat, and he knew you were his soulmate. now he's desperately trying to find you again, enlisting his fans and followers' help to do so.

he'll sprinkle in enough vague-ish details for the people in your life to pick up on and recognise. maybe start nudging you towards him.

he'll admit, with a soft, self-deprecating chuckle that you were there with another guy – a date, probably. it's why he held off trying to find you at first, but he... he just can't anymore. he doesn't care if you're with someone else.

he's totally swept up in you, it's all he can think about. he's already completely in love with you, and he doesn't even know your name.

it sounds crazy, he knows that, but he can't help it. he just needs to see you again. to learn your name. for you to give him a chance.

you're soulmates, and this is just the beginning of your love story.

[matryosika]

Incoming Call

Pairing — Hyunjin x fem!reader Wordcount — 3,394 words Genre — Smut (18+) Includes — Suggestive content. Smut warnings under the cut. Author's note — This honestly came out of the blue. I was just feeling like phone sex and exhibitionism and this is what I ended up writing, haha. I hope you like it, it's just a silly little drabble in which my writer's block didn't get the best of me. I am actually proud I could come up with something, but it's not as filthy as other of my works. Please remember that english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes in advanced! If you wish to support my blog further, please reblog and comment, leave an ask and check my pinned post for my ko-fi!

Smut warnings — Dirty talk. Phone sex and exhibitionism if you squint. Masturbation (m), Hyunjin is kind of a perv but it's very very tame. Use of petnames (baby), mentions of creampies, and other sexual fantasies. Hyunjin is needy and desperate. Reader's mom interrupts the hated moment (not cool!).

Time zones. 

By far your most terrible enemies these days. 

It wasn't only the jet lag that threw you off from coming back home, but the abysmal time difference between you and your boyfriend —he goes to bed right before you wake up, and his most active time is when you are about to sleep. 

It has been a couple of days, but texting with him has been an absolute nightmare. 

“It’s only a week,” you reassured him as he waved you goodbye at the airport. His lower lip was slightly pouting, and his usually straight eyebrows were raised in a subtle furrow. “I’m sure you’ll live, Hyunjin”. 

“Yeah but I wanted to come with you,” there was genuine pity in his voice and you knew he meant it —he never misses a chance to join you on your trips back home, or meeting your parents.  

Because of how busy he has been, and the fact that this trip was practically nonexistent a week before, he just couldn't ask for a time off at work this time.

“We’re spending Christmas there this year,” you tried to cheer him up, rubbing his arm with solace, “time flies by, anyways”. 

Hyunjin nodded, resigning himself to the imminent struggle of being hours and miles apart from each other.

“Text me when you get there, yeah?” He planted a chaste kiss on your forehead and held you tightly. “Text me all the time, I’ll reply when I can, okay?”

You nodded against his chest, and kept his promise throughout the whole trip. 

You texted him when you got to your home country, and you also texted him a picture of your first meal there. You told him all about the weather, how happy your parents were to see you after a while and the things you missed the most.

He promised he would reply when he could, but you knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Or at least not for a couple of more hours, until he woke up.

And basically, that has been the whole dynamic all along —you text him everything about your day at a given time, and he texts you everything about his day at a given time as well. There's very little conversation happening in between, but it's understandable.

By day 3, Hyunjin learned to convert time zones. If it is morning for him, it is late afternoon for you. If it is his late night, you're probably just waking up.

He knows when to text you —if he is expecting a quick response— and knows when you're sleeping. Taking all that into account, Hyunjin tries to make the most of the time that's actually convenient for the two of you to talk.

[08:19 a.m., Hyunjin: Baby]

With furrowed eyebrows, your fingers type away faster than your mind can comprehend it. 

[08:19 a.m., You: Shouldn’t you be asleep?]

[08:19 a.m., You: Isn’t it like 11 p.m. in Seoul?]

He is a night owl. Always have been.

But he has been trying really hard to adopt a healthier sleeping schedule, so seeing him online past 10 p.m. it's unusual these days.

“Everything alright?” Your father asks, picking up on the subtle furrow of your brows.

“Yeah, I’m just talking to Hyunjin,” with your phone in one hand, and the other busy with a fork on your breakfast, you await his response. 

“It’s such a shame he couldn’t make it,” your mother adds, “it has been a while since we last met him”.

At that moment, when your mom and dad start talking about how great of a guy he is and how happy they’re to have him as part of the family, your phone vibrates yet again in your hand. 

[08:21 a.m., Hyunjin: Attachment: one image]

[08:21 a.m., Hyunjin: Can you see how much I miss you?]

If it wasn’t for the glass of water you smartly chugged down to hide your coughs, you would have choked on a piece of fruit. Inevitably, and after a failed attempt to conceal the embarrassing moment, your parents' eyes are fixed on you with concern.

“Sorry,” you excuse yourself, cleaning your lips with a napkin while you relentlessly try to put your phone away from anyone’s sight. 

“Are you alright?” your mother asks this time, softly hitting your back 

“Yes,” you nod swiftly. “I just- the food kind of went into the wrong pipe”. 

On your lap, your phone keeps vibrating —one after another, you lose count after message number 4.

[08:22 a.m., Hyunjin: God, I miss your body so much]

[08:22 a.m., Hyunjin: Just want you here for me. Don't want anyone else to have you right now] 

[08:23 a.m., Hyunjin: My hand isn't enough. It doesn't feel like your pussy does]

[08:23 a.m., Hyunjin: Can you come back to me now? Lay underneath me and let me have my way with you?]

[08:24 a.m., Hyunjin: You have no idea how fucking hard I am] 

You gulp loudly.

“What do you think?” It's only when your mother directs a question at you that you snap out of your trance. 

“Huh?”

“What do you think about spending Christmas in some beautiful cabins? They're like 45 minutes away from the city,” she continues, offering you some of the context you missed because of Hyunjin’s heated messages.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply with hesitation. Not because of the idea, but because you really can’t process anything other than the warmth between your legs. “I- uh, I have to go to the restroom”. 

For all he knows, you're lying comfortably in your bed as this is around the time you usually wake up. So damned you, for not letting Hyunjin know that today you are having breakfast with your family at a restaurant. And damned him for putting you into an awkward situation without even knowing of it.

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Can I call you?]

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Want to hear your voice]

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Please, talk to me. Tell me anything you want. Just let me hear that pretty voice of yours]

[08:27 a.m., Hyunjin: Fuck it]

[08:27 a.m., Hyunijn: I’m calling you]

Good luck can’t be any more useful than right now, that you enter the restaurant’s restroom with your fingers crossed and an immense feeling of relief when you see every single stall open. 

And, as if on cue, the soft piano melody coming from your phone's speakers tells you that Hyunjin stuck up to his last message. 

“Are you busy?” It’s the first thing he says, with a hoarse voice and a hitched breath. 

“I’m at a restaurant,” you reply with just a little bit of shame in your tone. “With my parents”. 

Your boyfriend lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Shit I’m- I didn’t know, I’m sorry,” you can hear him panicking, maybe because he thinks you're upset. But in reality, it's all quite the opposite. “I’ll call you later just- forget I even- whatever, I’ll call you another time”. 

“No,” you rush to say, locking yourself into one of the bathroom stalls. “Don’t hang up, I can- I’m at the restroom”. 

There's a quick seconds of silence from the other line as Hyunjin gathers the remaining coherent thoughts after getting to hear your voice. “Is it- are there other people there?”

“For now it’s just me,” you reassure him.

“Just you?” He asks, and you hum in response. “I’m sorry for calling it’s just- God, I can’t spend another day without you”. 

The wet, sloppy slow sounds paired with the laziness of his voice can only give you a hint of what he is doing.

“Are you- masturbating?” 

It's not like you're a prude, but this whole thing is taking you by surprise. You're always together, so there's no need for phone sex or anything of that sort. Sexting isn’t unusual, but this is definitely a first.

“Yeah,” he replies with a raspy scoff. “Want me to stop?”

“No, I- no,” when you encourage him to continue, the lewd, wet sounds start to become more and more frequent —increasingly loud for you to hear them, “keep going”. 

Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh of frustration.

“Do you miss me too?” he asks, biting down his lower lip to prevent any whimpers from falling from them. 

“Yes,” with shortness of breath you admit. “I miss you too,”.

“Yeah?” He whispers under his breath, letting small grunts make their way to your ears. “I miss you badly. Can’t stop thinking about you- shit, can’t stop thinking about how pretty you look when you’re naked in my bed”. 

The compliments, all together, make your cheeks and body grow hotter. But inevitably, they force you to fix your gaze under the bathroom stall, in that little gap between it and the floor. There’s no sound nor signals of footsteps approaching, but the adrenaline of hearing him say such dirty things when you're out in public is definitely a new experience.

You can't say you hate it.

“Baby,” Hyunjin moans. And although you can’t see it, you can take a wild guess what he looks like right now: head kicked back, legs spread, his hand and dick glistening with lube, or lotion, or maybe spit. You can picture how pretty his face is right now, contorted in pleasure, with his lips all swollen from licking and biting them, eyes completely white while he bucks his hips up against his fist. “Talk to me, tell me about your plans for the day”.

You can’t help but laugh a little in the midst of the tension. 

“You want me to- talk about my day while you masturbate?”

“Well,” he scoffs under his breath. “I don’t expect you to say dirty stuff while you’re locked in a public restroom where anyone can walk in”. 

“Right,” you nod to yourself. “But I don't understand what that would do for you”. 

“I like your voice,” your boyfriend lets out a deep exhale of relief. “I can get off just by listening to it, doesn’t matter what you’re talking about”.

“You’re crazy,” a soft chuckle falls from your lips. “You’re not even going to pay attention to me”.

“Please?” you can hear a small whimper, and that alone convinces you. 

“Okay well,” you clear your throat before continuing, wondering how this could arouse him. But he is asking you something that is nowhere near difficult, so you comply. “I’m having breakfast with my parents right now”. 

“Aha,” Hyunjin hums, and if you play close attention you can hear his hand sliding up and down his cock. All you're left with is your imagination. “Keep going”.

“I will meet with a friend later, we’re going to grab some coffee”. 

Despite the weirdness of it all, there's something enticing about knowing he is using you, in some way, to get off. You're only talking about your day. But knowing your boyfriend is masturbating to the sound of your voice is arousing.

“Then I’ll go back home, get some work done,” you continue. “Think about you, think about how much I miss you right now”. 

The line goes silent, except for a mixture of gasps and groans. 

“You’re going to think about me?” Hyunjin asks, his silky voice sending shivers down your spine. “You’re going to touch yourself thinking about me?”

“Yes,” of course he doesn't expect you to talk dirty to him. But that never meant he couldn't say that kind of stuff to you. At that, you're at a disadvantage. No matter how turned on you're getting, there's nothing you can do about it and Hyunjin sort of feels thrilled because of it.

“You’re going to fuck my pussy with those fingers of you?”

God, how much you hate him for that. How he talks about your body as if it is his, reminding you that you belong to him and him only. 

You only hate it because it never fails to arouse you.

“Y-yes Hyune,” you reply, swallowing thickly. You're aware you can't say anything too obscene, but you still can engage in that kind of conversation without airing yourself too much. “Or should I- use something else?” 

“You packed your toys?” your boyfriend lets out a satisfied groan at your hum of agreement. You two are just so alike. “Which one are you using tonight, baby?”

“The transparent one”.

“The transparent one?” he thinks about it for a second, and immediately remembers which one you're referring to. “Thought you were going for the wand because it's your favorite, but I'm guessing you miss feeling full?”

“Aha,” you exhale. “Yes, I- miss it so bad”.

“You miss my cock stretching that tight pussy of yours?” At that, the wet movements become louder. “Stretch it nice and open for me baby, make sure to prep yourself every day for when you get back”. 

You bite your nails. “What’s going to happen when I get back?”

The answer is rather obvious, but you want to hear it from him.

“I’m going to make you come until you pass out,” Hyunjin bites his lips and kicks his head back, reminiscing all those times where you’ve come around his cock, fingers and tongue. “Make it up to you for all the days you've been away”. 

You can feel the pooling wetness in your underwear, the minimum squeeze of your thighs against each other is a constant reminder of it. 

“You miss my lips against your pussy like I do?” he asks, letting out a liberating gasp. “You miss tasting yourself off of me while we kiss?”

“You know I do,” you gulp loudly, caressing your lips with the tip of your fingers. God, how much you miss feeling his against yours.

They’re so soft, and velvety, and they know exactly how to kiss and bite you.

“I’m so close,” Hyunjin announces, and you feel your nipples hardening underneath your underwear at the despair in his voice. “I just- wish you were here, want to come all over your face, and body, make you swallow me full”. 

You want to say something, anything, but his words have much of a chokehold on you. You'll give anything to taste him, to kneel in front of him right now and open your mouth wide for him. 

You miss his taste, miss kissing him afterwards in between whines and grunts.

“I would grab your hair really tightly,” he explains, increasing the speed of his sounds. “I’d push my cock deep inside that pretty mouth of yours, have you gagging and drooling all over it”. 

Between his overwhelming words, and the loud sound of someone barging through the door of the restroom, you mutter a quick "can't talk anymore" before going completely silent.

“Honey, are you okay?”

Shit. 

You close your eyes, trying to focus on both parts: Hyunjin’s moans, and the way your mother is standing right outside your bathroom stall.

“It has been like 10 minutes, your father and I got worried”.

Your boyfriend lets out a teasing scoff, one that only you can hear.

“She’s asking you a question,” Hyunjin murmurs, still with a hitched breath. “Aren’t you going to answer?”

“I’m fine,” you rush to say. “Just- having a stomachache”. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve got some medicine in my bag,” of course she did. She always does, ever since you were little.

“Maybe you should tell her the truth,” the voice from the other line calls. “Tell her that you’re busy making me come”.

Immediately, your eyes open like plates and you wonder if the sound of the phone is too loud  for your mom to hear it inside the quiet restroom. 

“I forgot!” you snap, practically yell out loud. “I forgot you carried those with you”.

“Want me to bring them to you?”

You hear the faucet running, and Hyunjin chuckling slowly. At least she isn’t standing right outside the stall, but you’re still not at ease. 

“Y-yeah, please,” on the line, Hyunjin is waiting for the perfect moment to interrupt. 

Those two words are enough to send him to the edge. Despite the lack of sexual connotations, hearing you beg for anything it’s enough to arouse him.

“Ah, but I’ll have to bring you some water too,” your mother explains. “Maybe you can have it when you return to the table?”

“No!” You insist, all in an attempt to kick her away from the restroom. “Please, I need it right now. Please?” 

“Are you going to beg for me like that too?” Hyunjin groans through the line, not caring if anyone can hear him. Also not caring about interrupting your conversation. “Are you going to open your legs for me and beg for my dick like you’re begging right now?”

You almost choke on your own saliva, but the feeling quickly goes away when you hear your mother mutter an “okay, alright” before walking out the restroom door with a mission of easing your fake stomach ache.

“I almost get caught,” you gasp, only when a couple of seconds pass after she leaves. 

“Then hang up,” his shakily breath only tells you he is not that far from coming. Especially after hearing your voice again, pleading for whatever it was you were asking. 

“No,” you shake your head. “Want to hear you, please”. 

“Want to hear how I come for you?” he chuckles. “Want to her how I moan your name while I come thinking about how much I wish I was fucking you?”.

In a whisper, you hum quietly. 

“So dirty,” he is getting closer. “So, so f-fucking dirty. I can tell you’re enjoying this, even while you're out in public. Maybe you'll like it if i were to fuck you right there, while your parents wait for us at the table?”. 

You cover your mouth in surprise, trying to muffle a gasp.

“I would love to come inside you right now, pull up your panties and force you to spend the rest of the day with my cum leaking out of you,” he lets out another loud, choked groan before continuing to elaborate on the fantasy. “You'd be so wet, you wouldn't know if you're turned on or it's just my cum”.

“You’re insane,” you whisper under your breath.

“Yeah?” Hyunjin asks teasingly, slurring his words in between moans. “I know you are too, baby. I don’t even need to take a look at you to know you’re probably dripping just by my words, right?”

Damned him.

“And I know I’m not too out of my mind when I say you would let me fuck you right then and there, where everyone could hear you and anyone could walk in,” at that, the lewd noises increase. “Might even let me finger you underneath the table, right? Bet you would love to have my fingers deep inside you while you try to pretend you don’t”. 

“And I know I’m not too out of my mind when I say you would let me fuck you right then and there, where everyone could hear you and anyone could walk in,” at that, the lewd noises increase. “Might even let me finger you underneath the table, right? Bet you would love to have my fingers deep inside you while you try to pretend you don’t”. 

Oh you're definitely going to cancel all your plans for the day. Might even book an early fly.

Anything, just to see him soon.

“God,” Hyunjin exhales, and it’s between quiet moans that you realize he is coming. “F-fuck, ‘m coming so fucking much”.

You can picture it. His tone abdomen all glistening with sweat and cum, shining brightly underneath the dim light of your room. His cock is probably red, and swollen, and twitching while he overcomes his high.

Fuck, damned be Hyunjin for making you ruin your panties this early in the morning.

“So much,” he repeats, fingers trailing the lines of his abdomen as he collects his arousal off of it. “Too sad it went to waste, I would’ve preferred to fuck it back inside of you”.

“I hate you,” you finally breathe, both in relief and frustration. “I hate how much I miss you”.

“Then come home soon,” your boyfriend pouts.

And honestly? You might.

[babybluebex]

bad idea, right? | joseph quinn x fem!reader

summary: yes, i know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect? // aka your ex joseph conveniently texts you to come over just as you're missing him, and who can say no to those eyes? pairing: joseph quinn x fem!reader tags: SMUT (minors dni), thigh riding, teasing, confessions of love, bareback (USE A CONDOM IRL PLEASE!!!), no ejaculation (it's ok, you'll see, just read it) author’s note: i am BACK with a new joe fic, i have been thinking about him NONSTOP ever since miss olivia dropped this song, and it's taken me forever to write this but here we are :) enjoy! follow @babybluebex-writes to be notified whenever i post new fics!

This was such a bad idea. No, it wasn’t a bad idea. It was the worst idea, one of the worst things you have maybe ever done. That bar wasn’t set too high, but the point remained. It was stupid and bad, and you just shouldn’t be doing it. And yet, here you are. 

You had been out drinking with your friends, ironically trying to get over Joseph. He was a good man— good enough, at least— and had been a relatively good boyfriend to you, but he was different than everyone else and was itching for more than you were, a family and a life and shit, and you had just wanted to have fun with him, so you had broken it off with him. The breakup had initially happened a few months ago, but your friends had never been able to drag you out of your flat and to a bar until then. There was nothing to mourn, you tried to tell them. We just wanted different things and split amicably, there’s no bad blood there that I need to drink to get over. 

Around 11 o’clock or so, your phone buzzed on the bar top, and you glanced down to see a text from a number that your phone didn’t recognize, but you knew all too well. I’m lonely, it said. Would you like to come over? 

Your friends were absorbed in their conversation, so you put down your vodka soda and typed out a reply. Joe, you know that’s a bad idea. 

I moved. Do you need my new address? 

You sighed. Yeah, I do. 

There was something about Joseph that you couldn’t place, but it made him irresistible. He was magnetic, he was charismatic, he was attractive and funny and kind, he was everything, but he just wasn’t what you wanted or needed for your relationship. He wanted kids; you didn’t. That was it. He was so irresistible, though, that there was no question about the fact that you would wreck your plans to see him. 

“Hey, I gotta go,” you told your friends, and they all booed and awed and asked what was going on. 

“Wait,” one of your friends started. “Are you going to see Joe?”

You scoffed, in a way that you hoped conveyed how crazy you thought that was. “No,” you said. “My social battery just ran out all of the sudden. Long day at work, and I’ve got another long one tomorrow and… You know how it is.” 

“Alright,” your friend said with a pout. “Be safe, alright? Let us know when you get home.” 

You agreed and, with a few hugs and kisses, you went on your way. Joseph had texted you his new address and you plugged it into your Uber app, and, the whole ride there, your leg was jiggling and you were nervous. It was just Joe, it wasn’t like you were going to meet some random guy you met online (although Joe had started out as some random Hinge match). You had dated him for two years, you knew him, so why were you nervous? 

He was grinning at you when you reached his place on the second floor, an easy sort of smile that you remembered loving. “Hi,” he said softly, reaching out for you, and you took his hands, smiling back at him. 

“Hey,” you said. “So, this is your new place, right?”

“Yeah,” Joseph said with a shrug. “It’s not much, but it’s alright.” 

You stepped inside and set down your bag next to the door, along with your jacket and shoes, and you examined the front room. The new flat was definitely smaller than the one you had shared together, the kitchen all smushed up next to the den, with the smallest hallway leading down to the bathroom and bedroom, and you settled on the couch easily. “I like it,” you said, your eyes going to his bookcase next to his television. A biography of Caracalla sat open, and you shook your head. “It’s cute. Very you.” 

“Thank you, love,” Joseph said. He sat down beside you and put his arm along the back of the couch behind you, and you inched a little closer to him. 

“Isn’t it a little… Silly?” you started, and you began to chew on your lip. 

“What is?” Joseph asked. 

“This dumb little dance we have to do,” you said. “Like we both don’t know why I’m here. We have to pretend, like, ‘Oh, I like your apartment’, ‘Oh, how have you been’, y’know?” 

“Well, we don’t have to pretend,” Joseph said. “We can just… Get started.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “But I don’t wanna, like, just come over and fuck and leave.”

“So…” Joseph started. “You want genuine small talk?”

You shrugged. “I guess,” you said. “How have you been?”

“Honestly,” Joseph started. “Pretty bad. I’m so used to coming home and having you here, I find myself so lonely and bored and… I don’t know. It’s been a few months, I thought I’d get over… Whatever this is.”

“That’s alright,” you said. “I’ve been missing you a lot too. I miss our old apartment… The bathtub was so nice and big.” 

“Yeah,” Joseph chuckled. “You remember when we took a bubble bath together and lit candles? That was nice.”

“Yeah,” you agreed wistfully. It went quiet then, both of you trying to avoid the obvious, and you finally sighed. “This is a bad idea, right?” 

“Probably,” Joseph said. You looked over at him to find him already looking at you with those damned chocolate puppy eyes, and you tilted your head a bit, your eyes lingering on his lips. That’s something that you missed about him; he was a damn good kisser. 

“Fuck it, it’s fine,” you said quickly, and you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. His arm around your shoulders dragged you close to him, and he kissed you back, letting his lips mold against yours. You moaned softly, taking in the familiar taste of him, and you shuffled to sit across his lap. His hands went to their usual spots in the back pockets of your jeans, squeezing and kneading your ass as his tongue slipped inside your mouth, and you raked your fingers through his hair. You don’t remember him doing his hair across his forehead like this the last time you saw him, but maybe he did, but it really didn’t matter. He was hot as fuck, and he wanted you. 

“Fuck,” Joseph whispered as he broke the kiss. His focus went to your smooth neck, kissing and lightly sucking and making you moan again, and his hands drifted out of your back pockets and went to the front of your pants, popping the button open with ease. “Pretty girl…” he mumbled, and you giggled as he started to edge your pants down. The angle was awkward, definitely, and you shuffled to stand up and take down your pants. Joseph dipped down on the couch a little to pull off his sweatpants (grey, soft, the kind you once told him make his dick look good), and he discarded them to the side as you straddled one of his big thighs. This was always one of his favorite things, having you ride his thigh, and he looked gleeful when he realized that that’s what you were doing. “Oh, yeah?” he asked, and you smiled, flexing your hips down and starting to drag yourself along his hard thigh. 

“I remember you liked this,” you told him, and Joseph’s throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, letting his head fall back as you started up a rhythm, letting yourself glide along his leg. He mumbled and cursed, his big hands falling to your hips, but he didn’t control you; he was just holding you, feeling you, loving on you. 

“I do,” he mumbled. “God… Yes, sweet girl, just like that.” 

You whimpered as your clit brushed your stretched panties, and Joseph looked up, a sly smile on his lips. You loved when he watched you, and you made sure to move your body smoothly— all the better of a show for him. “Yeah,” he mumbled, biting his plush bottom lip. “That feel good?” 

You hummed out a positive sound, digging your fingernails into his shoulders through his jumper. “God, Joey,” you sighed, and you lilted your head to watch him as his eyelashes fluttered and he sighed with you. "Missed you."

"I missed this too," Joseph said. "Take off your panties, I wanna feel you."

You couldn't help but oblige him, and you lifted yourself from his leg and stripped off your modest underwear (you weren't exactly thinking ahead when you got dressed to go out, and you certainly weren't expecting Joe to text you). The feel of his warm skin on your pussy made your stomach swim with butterflies, and you put your hands on the back of his neck, just at where the curls ended. God, those curls. You pulled him into a kiss and moaned into his mouth, and you tugged on his curls to make him whine.

"Don't tease me, baby," he told you in a low voice, and you smiled and continued on your path, absolutely set on teasing him now. Your hips slowed, and you nestled your mouth right in the crook of his neck, setting soft kisses on his skin. "Oh, fuck, you're an evil woman, did you know that?"

"Yeah, well," you shrugged noncommittally, and Joe grabbed you around your waist and pulled you off of him. Roughly— rougher than usual?— he pushed you down onto the couch, and he settled himself on top of you, his thick thighs caging you in. You watched greedily as he righted himself and stripped off his jumper, exposing the little soft hairs on his chest; now, without the baggy jumper, you could fully see his hardening cock, rising to lay against his tummy.

"Like what you see?" Joe chuckled lightly, and you realized just how hard you had been staring at him.

"How could I not?" you asked. You reached out for his cock, taking his length in your hand, and you stroked him easily, base to tip, squeezing when you got closer to his balls— just the way he liked. He hissed in a sharp breath through his teeth as his eyes grew three times their size, and you smiled.

"Thought you'd've forgotten about that," Joe laughed breathlessly, and he edged back on the couch, aligning his hips with yours. Apparently, it seemed as if speed was the name of the game tonight, and it almost hurt your heart to think that he just wanted to hook up with you. You knew that coming to his place wouldn't end with a reconfession of love and for him begging for you to stay, but it stung to know that he was just trying to get you out as quickly as possible.

"I could never forget," you said, hoping that he could see through your words and see your teary eyes, hear your thick throat, feel your loss. You loved him, and the breakup hurt, but it was better being apart. But was it really?

"I wouldn't want you to," Joe told you, and he pursed his lips for a moment before he spit down onto your pussy. "You think I can ever forget you?"

You lined up the head of his cock with your hole, watching as he throbbed in your hand, and he sank his hips forward. The feel of the stretch had you gasping, and you moaned as he slid inside you, nestling perfectly. "Hey," Joe said firmly, and you looked up from the show to see him earnestly staring down at you, his eyes... Wet? Tearful? "You don't think I could ever forget you, do you?" he asked, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

"Not now, Joe," you mumbled.

"Yes, now," Joe insisted.

"You're inside me," you protested, and Joe gathered you in his arms, holding you tightly as he began to fuck you. The pleasure made your breath hitch, and Joe buried his face in your neck, kissing the slender column of your throat.

"We can talk and fuck at the same time," Joe said. "God knows we've done worse and fucked at the same time."

"But talk about this?" you asked. "Joey—"

"I can't sleep without you," he said softly. "Every time I wake up alone, my first thought is that you're using the toilet and that you'll be right back. I can hardly relax without your feet in your side... You really did take up the whole of the bed."

"Joe—" you started again, but he shook his head, his curls thwipping you in the face.

"And I can't eat," he continued. "I miss your cooking, and what's the point of eating anyway if you're not gonna steal bits of it off my plate?"

"Don't say that," you frowned. You were still acutely aware of his cock inside you, ebbing and flowing with the movement of your bodies, but, slowly, you came to realize exactly what this was. Maybe this was a reconfession of love. Maybe he would beg for you to stay. Maybe he was more than lonely tonight, and was just rushing the sex to get to the part where he asked you to come back to him. "That's not... Fair. I'm doing better without you."

"What a lie," Joe chuckled mirthlessly. "You're not wearing your favorite going-out dress, you're not even wearing mascara. You didn't want to leave the house tonight, but you did. Why?"

"My friends dragged me out," you said.

"Exactly," Joe said. "You'd rather stay home and rot in bed, because you're just as miserable without me as I am without you. Admit it, we were so good together, don't you want that again?"

"Joe," you started. "We broke up because you wanted kids, and I didn't. That's not something you can compromise on, that's not a conversation you can table for later. We broke up because we wanted different things, and that's okay."

"But I want you back," Joe said. "I need you back. Please, we can compromise on this. We can... Fuck, I don't know, we can get a cat. Or a puppy, or a lizard, or whatever the fuck it takes for you to come back to me."

Before you could say more, your phone buzzed in your purse on the floor just by your head, and you sighed as you reached for it, any distraction welcome. Your friend was texting you: Make it home ok?

Yeah, you answered quickly. Going to sleep. Talk tomorrow xx.

"Joe," you started. "I... I only see you as a friend now. I don't think I can return to what we had."

"That's the biggest lie you've ever said," Joe told you. "If I was just a friend, would you have come over tonight?"

"Yes!" you said. "Because I'm a good friend! You said you were lonely, and I wanted to come help—"

"Oh, God, there was an undertone, and you know that," Joe cringed. "Don't act like you didn't know exactly what this was."

"Fuck," you mumbled. "Joe, I— Can we wait until we're done fucking?"

Joe sighed and, setting his jaw, angled his hips back and pulled out. He went in search of his clothes quietly, and you did the same, and, as you were zipping up your trousers, you said, "I guess I just don't... Don't see how we can have what we had. Not now, not knowing that we want our futures to be so different."

"We don't have to have what we had," Joe said. "We can have something completely new. We can make something entirely different, entirely our own, whatever we want. Please?"

You looked up from your jeans to see him looking at you. He had shaved his facial hair down to nothing, and you frowned to look at it. "I hate the way you do your hair now," you mumbled. "And I wish you'd grow your mustache back out."

Joe shrugged. "Maybe I will," he said. "If you want me to."

"I do," you said. "And we can get a cat, but you have to do the nasty shit, cleaning up after it and everything. We can... We can get back together, if you... If you promise you'll never leave me again."

Joe stepped towards you and wrapped you in a tight embrace, and he kissed the top of your head. "Never again, love."

[hoshigray]

˗ˏˋ Summertime ⛱ Madness ˎˊ˗

Dear Diary...summer is finally here, and you're ready to spend it all with your best buds — Itadori, Megumi, and Nobara! Because the season is meant to be eventful, no? Though, how eventful? You already have plans with your friends to make every day count...Yet, so much has happened this summer that you NEED to write it all down! Especially since five men, in particular, have put you through a complete whirlwind of a summer...

Collector's Note: Hi, hello!! This is my first time doing something like this, but to commemorate getting 1k followers (tysm!!), I felt this would be a fun way to celebrate!! These entries will be posted throughout the summer (with dates provided), so keep your eyes open for when a diary entry opens! They can be read as standalone fics, but some (2-3) may be linked with one another. And no, they are not gonna be in first-person, only for this post as a sort of introduction to the pieces, lol. And FYI: these adorable sea-themed dividers are made by the wonderful remi (@cafekitsune), whose dividers I use non-stop!! Thank you sm for the dividers as always, remi, love what you do sm!!

Diary Status: ongoing!!

Word of caution: fem!reader - modern AU - age differences (the reader is at least in their 20s; the guys' ages will be specified in their respective fics for convenience's sake) - explicit content/nsfw so minors DNI - mentions of alcohol/drug use - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - taboo (consensual sex b/w professor/undergrad; a friend's relative) - size differences - one night stands - be sure to read the content warnings (cw) to fully grasp what each fic will contain before reading!

Intrigued readers: wanna be tagged when an entry is posted? Lmk in the replies plz!

✎﹏﹏﹏ 📖 Y/n's Diary Entries 📖 ﹏﹏﹏✎

Dear Nanami Kento... ༄ My Professor's Final Spring Praise

Entry Narrative: Before my summer break officially started, I had to finish my last in-person exam with Professor Nanami. It was so tough, but I made it through! I was the last to leave, so I thanked the professor and shared some final words before heading to my dorm to finish packing up. However, how do a few gratitude and praise exchanges end up with me on his desk and him between my legs? Contents: professor! Nanami x fem! reader - explicit content so minors DNI - taboo (consensual sex b/w a professor & undergrad) - age difference (the reader is at least in their 20s; Nanami approaching early 30s) - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - semi-missionary position (reader lies on their back on a table while Nanami stands) - public sex/sex in a university classroom - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - pining if you squint - praise - pet names (baby, darling, love, sweet pea) - clitoral play (licking and sucking) - kissing/makeout sessions. Completion: July 3rd (Nanami + my bday :DD so I better see y'all wish me and my hubby a hbd or this shit isn't getting released >:T)

Dear Satoru Gojo... ༄ Sweet Blind Summer Fling

Entry Narrative: Due to a bet made by Nobara, I made an online dating account to set myself up with a blind date. Although a bit witty and annoyingly childish, Gojo's remarkably handsome and sweet...So, how the hell did I end up sleeping with him on the first date!? Contents: switch! Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content so minors DNI - blind date/online match-up - age difference (the reader is at least in their 20s; Gojo is around early 30s) - texting back and forth - sex at a hotel - one night stands - consensual sex under the influence - protected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - cowgirl + lotus positions - pet names (angel, baby, dollface, pretty, princess, sweet thing) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - mentions of drug/alcohol use (reader and Gojo don't get blackout drunk, but y'all get tipsy) - a bunch of silliness bc it's a Gojo fic (duh). Completion: July 24th

Dear Suguru Geto... ༄ Swim in Waves, Chill in Caves

Entry Narrative: I went to the beach with my friends!! Only for me to...run into Gojo again!!? And to make things crazier, I met his attractive best friend who heard "so much" about me??!! Thanks to Gojo's nonstop blabber-mouth, Geto was interested in me in ways I would rather not be known for! Contents: Geto x fem! reader - explicit content, so minors DNI - age difference (the reader is at least in their 20s; Geto is around early 30s) - oral (m! + f! receiving) - heavy depictions of a blowjob - semi-handjob - sex at an open area; cave by the beach - 69+ doggy style/backshots + missionary position - unprotected sex but Geto doesn't shoot inside (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - fucking while the sun sets, lmaooo - pet names (baby, cutie, sweetheart, sweetie, princess) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - Gojo is here so expect some silliness. Completion: August 4th

Dear Choso Kamo... ༄ In[put]s & Out[put]s

Entry Narrative: My friends and I are getting ready to go out, but I'm feeling a little nervous about my outfit since it looks a little risqué... So, I took a pic of it and sent it to Itadori to hear his thoughts. Come to find out...I instead sent it to his half older brother, who was coming to pick me up......and he liked the outfit so much that he gave me his personal opinion?? Contents: still deciphering... Completion: TBA

Dear Toji Fushiguro... ༄ Secrets, Sweat, and Summer Fever

Entry Narrative: The gang and I hung out at Megumi's place for the last week of summer. But when I'm left at the house alone with Megumi's hot father, how am I supposed to act normal after "accidentally" eavesdropping on him jerking off to me!? Also, why and how the fuck does he know about my personal endeavors!? Contents: still deciphering... Completion: TBA

© hoshigray 2023 ~𓆉~ Diary entries above are collected by, written by, and belong to me, so please do not steal, edit, or post my works. Or I'll find all the people in your family who don't know how to swim and throw 'em in the ocean (and yes, that includes you). :/

[anistarrose]

I keep seeing post after post that I know has been described in the past, but where the ID simply will not load in the notes, even if you sort by "comments only." And it's not just old posts — I've even seen this happen to an ID that I wrote less than three months ago, which is just absurd.

Because Tumblr isn't gonna fix their shit, this is (first of all) part of why editing IDs into the original post is important, when someone in the notes provides one. Even on a functional website, it would still be more convenient for screen reader users to not have to hunt through the notes — but as it stands, IDs can fully be lost to the void on a post that should've been accessible.

Second of all, for those of us who come across IDs without looking in the notes for them, I think it might be prudent to start checking if those IDs are actually still showing up in the notes? I know that's a habit that I'm going to try and start building, when I see an ID on my dash or while scrolling through an accessible blog. I already copy IDs when they've been buried in the notes, but with IDs flat-out disappearing, redundancy is even more important.

If you're a person who has a hard time writing IDs yourself, but is trying to help make your online space more accessible, this is something you can keep an eye on and help with. I can't speak for every ID writer, but I strongly encourage my IDs being "stolen," and every other ID writer I know feels the same.

[xmultifandomsx]

Bruce Wayne's Social Media

Concept: Bruce using instagram/snapchat stories.

Bruce posts a lot to his stories. He also lets his kids post whatever they want to his stories. They are a fun way to keep up his ditzy, socialite persona. He posts pictures of his breakfast, a bottle of champagne (it doesn't matter that it's 2pm, Alfred), even just pictures of trees. The point is that Bruce Wayne is posting the most random things frequently. His Snapchat stories are like hours long, filled with pictures of clubs, butterflies, and, weirdly enough, antique swords. The one thing he rarely ever posts is his kid's faces, like rarely ever. And when he does it's usually those weird artsy/pintrest-y type of photos with a filter thrown over them. They're sweet photos, like the back of Dick and Damian as they watch a movie or Cass from the side as she's rehearsing. And everyone just assumes that Bruce Wayne is being protective of his children. That he doesn't want to expose them to the media. Which is fair because none of the Wayne kids really have social media, except for Tim who has a very active Twitter (and a few batwatch blogs that Bruce just pretends don't exist, because ignorance is bliss). What no one realizes is that Bruce is just doing it because half the time he's able to get those soft, cute photos of those kids, it's because they are grievously wounded. That one photo of Tim, snuggling into the couch with his face buried in a pillow? He'd just gotten back from a YJ mission and was on bed rest for his four broken ribs and a minor orbital fracture. That sweet photo of Damian and Titus lying together with Titus's face conveniently flopped right over Damian's? He'd had a busted lip and three abominable stab wounds from a fight with Two Face. The list goes on. Bruce has maybe three photos of his kids' faces online and those have been for the annual Wayne Family Christmas card (the first one kicked up quite the media storm as it featured his once-presumed dead son Jason with no explanation, just well-wishes).

(Jason only does the card because he lost a bet with Dick and definitely does not keep doing it because of Bruce's proud smile when he hung up that first card on the fridge)

[the-bonfires-ember]

Friendship and ASPD

In a cluster b server I’m in, someone asked about how ASPD impacts friendships and I was encouraged to cross post my response on here so here we go.

Firstly, I’m going to go through how I figured out friendship and how to make it work for me starting from my lowest functioning point to where I am now.

So to begin with, I had no true circles. I floated between groups of people who could give me what I wanted in that moment and just manipulated them into giving it to me if my request alone was not satisfactory. Sometimes all I wanted was social camouflage, sometimes i wanted money or food or a distraction. It was arbitrary and there was no real long term plan - at least, when i was no longer in an environment where long term strategies were vital.

Eventually, as I started working on my recovery, I managed to maintain relationships that were exclusively online. The convenience in putting away my laptop and my social obligations disappearing along with it was immensely helpful and it gave me a way of experimenting with being a little more open and a little more attached that had no Real Life repercussions. It was still transactional, all my relationships still are to this day, but they started becoming less Obviously transactional. I was still getting physical, tangible stuff from people, but I was also getting support, a safe space to figure out how to relate to my emotions, and somewhere to practice empathy and other social skills like it. There was a lot of trial and error but when I ruined something in one space I could just start again somewhere else and not have to worry about the two overlapping.

Now that I am Recovered™️ sort of, I’ve developed Exceptions, who have at some point shown that they are trustworthy and nonjudgemental and understand the antisocial side of my personality and are happy to help me work around it. My symptoms sort of change around them. I don’t have remorse but with Exceptions I will feel a kind of visceral disgust directed at myself for how I could have hurt them like that and that will quite often spark a narc crash.

I decided a long time ago what I didn’t want to be, so throughout the entire process I was watching for patterns of behaviour that were harmful for the sake of being harmful. I created a quite intricate set of rules that I couldn’t loophole my way out of and that was very much an important factor in how I continued to develop my skills and ability to interact and maintain relationships.

I am still bad at a lot of stuff though. I don’t reach out to people, I never start conversations so a lot of people just disappear until I’m reminded of them. I’m also awful at vocalising appreciation and while I know logically that people like to help their friends, I constantly have an internal debate about whether I am taking advantage of people I don’t want to be taking advantage of (given that taking advantage of people tends to make them pissed off eventually). And there are days where I don’t want to be around anyone at all and thats ok. It’s better for me to let myself be by myself than to force myself to interact with people when I really dont want to.

Recognising where I lack skills and reflexes prosocials have has been a skill in and of itself and it took a long time to develop it. But it’s been worth it to me, I’m now able to experience and enjoy so many aspects of life I thought weren’t meant for me.

And I’m very smug about being able to get it despite it being implied I never would.