#every fucking artist under the sun does that

[idekwtf-is-happening]

Seeing people on Twitter trying to hate on Taylor swift is so funny like, she’s living in their heads rent free as they scramble for reasons to hate her

[readwritealldayallnight]

reader who is flexible / does yoga x simon who gets really flustered watching it? 👀

During those first few months of living together as flatmates, having gone from strangers who happened to have a friend in common to sharing a bedroom wall within 24 hours, you both learned a lot about each other

On your end, you learned that his presence in the flat was a rarity, gone for days if not weeks at a time before coming home. Even then, he usually was only back for short periods of time, most of it spent sleeping

You do discover that he’s an early riser however, much to your chagrin when the sound of his routine post workout shower wakes you up before the sun has ever risen

You learn that he’s a decent enough cook, but will always insist on helping in some way if he finds you in the kitchen working on something, no matter how simple or complicated the dish is

Over time you even find out how he prefers his tea in the morning and when you get the chance, try and surprise him with a warm drink waiting for him after his shower

When you know that he prefers to keep the flat a little cooler than you usually have it, you’ll turn the thermostat down a degree just before he comes home, just as he’s gotten into the habit of turning it back up for you on his way out, the gesture going unspoken between the two of you

Simon also learns a lot about you in the time since you’ve moved in

He learns all about your taste in music, a melody never not playing in the background of whichever room you’re occupying, often telling him the name of a song or artist you can tell he likes from the way his foot will tap or fingers will drum against his thigh

He discovers you’re a bit of a night owl, often hearing you in the kitchen baking some dessert or another at midnight, or talking on the phone with a friend. He never minds though. In one case he wakes up to sweet treats in the morning, and the other he gets to overhear your even sweeter voice chirping and giggling. And if one time a smile of his own graces his lips when he hears you telling your friend how you’re loving the new flat, and your flatmate “isn’t so bad on the eyes either”, then who’s complaining?

He finds out what your favourite take out food is, often surprising you with something on his return home, definitely not blushing under the mask if it earns him a hug or peck on the cheek as thanks

But one thing Simon learns about you early on, something that he thinks about not just at home but on base, in briefings, on missions, on helis and jets and trucks, is how part of your daily routine, is doing fucking yoga in the living room.

He’s been in countless situations most civilians could never even dream up, let alone withstand, and Simon under the mask that is Ghost always stays as cool and collected as any seasoned vet would

But seeing you in sweatpants, or leggings, or even worse when you’re wearing those shorts of yours, strolling into the living room with your yoga mat tucked under your arm, his pants instantly tighten every single time, knowing what’s to come (or rather who’s to c-)

Following along to your instructional video playing on the telly, paying him no mind as he sits in the adjoining kitchen as you bend into position after position, simply doing your nightly routine as you have for years now, unknowingly putting your flatmate through a torture he’s never endured before

Every time he’s lucky enough to witness you stretching your limbs, contorting your body into poses he couldn’t fathom doing himself, he finds his dreams that night filled with the very same images of you, though wearing far less clothing, and in his bed instead of a yoga mat, though he would take you anywhere let’s be honest

He always waits for you to finish your routine, be it a quick 15 minute stretch or a nearly hour long session, he remains and watches you until you leave, before he dares to stand with his arousal on full display through his pants, rushing to his room or bathroom to take care of business

He learns that he’s never felt more intense pleasure at his own hand than when he thinks of you, when he has has your face and body freshly imprinted on his mind as he finishes, imagining the heaven that it must be to have the real thing rather than his calloused fist

It’s interesting you see

You really like Simon, and you like when he’s home, like getting to know him and spend more time with him

And if you happen to learn that when you do your yoga routine out where he can see you, that he suddenly spends a lot more time in the flat than on base, coming home more and more often, no matter how short his stay is… well, who’s complaining?

[gallusrostromegalus]

So, uhh, genuine question.

Do you recommend getting into Bleach, and if so how? Anime, Manga, a little bit of both, secret other thing? Your posts about it (and especially about AEIWAM) have definitely piqued my Interest, but I have pretty much 0 knowledge about the topic and heard very contradictory takes & reviews before, so I wanted to ask for your advice on the topic.

Cheers and have a nice day!

So a couple people have asked me this and I'm going to be as honest and fair about it as possible:

Bleach itself is mid.

...which is why the fan works KICK SO MUCH ASS.

My theory is that the ideal habitat for transformative fan work creators is mediocre series. It has to be good enough to be worth engaging with in the first place, but it's the plot holes and dropped developments and intriguing characters that don't get enough time and shoddy-to-unexplained worldbuilding that make nice little holes for fic authors and fan artists to crawl into and built a home, like sponges growing on a dilapidated subway car sunk into the Hudson river.

So yes. Bleach is mid. More under the cut:

It's also really two series: the manga and the anime. There's more anime than manga because bleach suffers from the late oughts horror known as "the filler arc" where the studio would make shit up while waiting for the author to catch up. Not ideal, but better than the current state of "cancelling a fully written five-season show after two because it wasn't making enough money for the oligarchy" but I digress.

To grade both the manga and anime on the Weeb-Ass-Shit scale:

Weeb: how familiar do you have to be with the tropes of anime/Japanese culture in general to be able to enjoy the series? This is one of the things Bleach does REALLY, REALLY WELL, in that you can go in knowing fuck-all about anime and have a good time, but the more you know, the more fun it is. My favorite thing Kubo does is that if you look up the meaning of the characters used in everyone's names, there is a TON of jokes, foreshadowing, themes etc. baked into every name. A+ work.

Ass: how much gratuitous fan service is there and how annoying is it? So. It's not the worst. But it's really, really obvious that Bleach is written and illustrated by a straight man who is hella into tiddies. As a bisexual, I can appreciate The Tiddy (and tbh, the men in Bleach have pretty great tits too), but there are a lot of humor bits about Kon being a perv/author stand-in, orihime has medically alarming knockers for a teenager and gets groped kind of a lot. There's also a predatory lesbian stereotype character in the early episodes, and some pretty awful transphobic caricature characters. The amount of horny isn't that much for a shonen, but it's pretty gross IMHO.

Shit: how well- made is this series?

Mixed. Both the manga and the anime (esp the recent Thousand Year Blood War arc) have some absolutely gorgeous art, banger character designs, and deeply entertainingly choreographed fights. It is really nice to look at.

Unfortunately, both also suffer really badly from pacing issues that are pretty much entirely the fault of the insane demands the industry puts on the artists. If you've ever read/seen a shonen manga/anime from the late aughts through early teens, you're familiar with this bullshit- fight scenes drawn out to absurd lengths, filler arcs while the animation studio waits for the author to catch up, repeated plot arcs, minimal focus on characterization, The Friendship Speech (TM) etc.

Pacing and repetitiveness are Bleach's main quality issues, but the art is pretty baller and the Japanese voice cast is pretty fucking great IMHO. (I have APD and have to consume shows by subtitles, so the sun is usually more legible for me than the dub).

If you are coming into Bleach from AEIWAM... You're likely to be a bit disappointed. I put a shitload of work into the worldbuilding because Bleach does not, I write almost exclusively slice-of-life character moments rather than big battles, and I have made some pretty fucking radical changes to some of the characters. An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy is an entirely different genre than Bleach, and that's ok, because fic usually is radically different than it's source material. But also be prepared.

TL;DR: Bleach is mid and that's ok! My fic is different than it and that is also ok! I still recommend it with the reservations of : it's prototypical of its time period and contains many of the gross tropes from that era. It is also very much a horror shonen, just to be clear. Fucked up shit happens on screen, mostly cannibalism! Which is great IMHO, but you should probably take a stroll through DoesTheDogDie.com for more specific trigger warnings before beginning.

[kiestrokes]

astringe | NSFW

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader/You/Yn Rating: NSFW! Mature (18+) Minors DNI. Word Count: 2516 Genre: smut, porn without plot, friends to casual lovers. Warnings: artsy undercut Hyunjin from the last month + 2023 VMA's, college, art school, a variety of kissing, handholding, Hyunjin is confident, mentions of a fantasy book featuring a blood mage which is a nod to @chans-room and a lovely fic they are crafting up.

Sexually Explicit Content: consented choking (this is the main focus of this fic DO NOT read if you don't enjoy choking in theory or real life), sexual intercourse (penis in vagina) cowgirl, missionary, some breast play but not really, mutual orgasms. let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: Things get a little tense in the library when your best friend innocently discovers your secret asphyxiation kink. He just wanted a better angle of your neck, but now that he's found it, how could he not toy with you a little?

🗝️ Note: sooo this brain rot had consumed me all of my workday yesterday and was only intensified after that undercut reveal at the VMA's. Hyunjin has been a fucking menace lately and I just needed to yeet this my from my brain. So yea, enjoy 🙏🏼thank you to B for their lovely beta read 🖤

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted in this story.

Read it on Ao3!

You’re tucked away into what is arguably your favorite place on campus- a window alcove nestled between two rows of bookshelves stocked with the full collection of Oxford dictionaries that nobody ever uses anymore. Thanks to the invention of smartphones.

Your best friend, sketching away on the window sill across from you as the sun descends into twilight. 

Hyunjin looks every part the troubled artist; a black sweater draped over his broad shoulders, dark hair pulled back nonchalantly, displaying his freshly shaved undercut, silver-rimmed glasses glinting under the fading halogen bulbs, a singular black nail pinching a bit of oil crayon as it glides across the thick paper of his sketchbook and rambling about how he needs to work on specific body parts more. 

You’re immersed in your fantasy novel, humming along, without the notion that you are his current subject or what he is saying at this point. The handsome blood mage has captured the warrior princess and is taking her back to his- 

Hyunjin’s hands are suddenly around your throat and your brain doesn't have time to stop the strangled moan that leaves your lips. Your book topples to the carpeted floor with a soft thud, announcing the loss of your place. You regain enough awareness to fight off your body's natural response to this type of touch. How you want to close your eyes, to sink into the hand cupping your neck, and relinquish control. 

Hyunjin’s observant gaze catches it and a mischievous smirk marks his beautiful lips. Slowly he begins to toy with your neck, turning you at angles with a slight flex of his fingers and jut of his thumb into your jawbone. Pretending to sketch the slopes and hollows of your throat, his interest already elsewhere. He grasps the column suddenly and your spine snaps arching your chest forward with a moan, your own hands clawing helplessly at the denim of your pants.  

“Shhh, you don’t want anyone to hear you.” His tongue toys with his top lip as he strokes your throat firmly with his thumb. 

“Hyun-” 

Hyunjin squeezes again, his gaze cutting to yours, the intensity of his eyes causing a whine to get caught in your chest.

He abandons the sketchbook and slips up next to you, his large thigh pressing into yours. His arm comes to rest between your breasts, rising and falling with your rapid breathing. 

“Does this turn you on?” 

You nod subtly. Head kicking back as he gifts you with another squeeze for answering his question honestly, biting your lip hard to keep all sounds locked behind your teeth. 

“Why aren’t you stopping me?” He looks at you from under his brow, smiling almost wickedly. 

Your lip slips from your teeth and a whimper escapes, Hyunjin rewards you with a firm press to the sides of your neck. You can feel your pulse thrumming against the tips of his fingers, and your eyes close in an attempt to calm your breathing.

“Do you want me?” Hyunjin’s cool breath fans across your lashes.

“Yes,” You whisper.

Hyunjin’s hand slips up to cup your jaw, his thumb caressing your lip before tugging it down. Your eyes snap open to find his gaze focused on his hand, and your lips. Then he's standing suddenly, like nothing had just occurred between the two of you. Calmly collecting his things, and slipping them into his bag along with your book he retrieves from the floor. 

Not a word is spoken until he looks down at you expectantly, “Let's go then.”  

You stand up shakily and Hyunjin wraps your hand in his, tucking you into his side and turning the two of you toward the exit. Hyunjin smiles politely at the librarians as they wave goodbye on your way out. His other fingers interlocked with yours as he guides you toward the elevators.

Hyunjin had lucked out in having a solo artist suite above the library, your second favorite place on campus.

Inside the elevator, you watch him in the tin reflection. Hyunjin smirks back at you, slipping your hand into the pocket of his baggy pants, and pressing the tips of your fingers into his erection. You gasp and turn to look at him, but he’s already watching you. An unspoken acknowledgment that he wants you too.

Hyunjin’s eyes only intensified behind the magnification of his circular glasses. With all the metal surrounding you, you’re all too aware of the charged energy behind Hyunjin’s gaze. As if you were to reach out and touch the wall of the rattling lift, you would be electrocuted.

The elevator dings and you tear your eyes away from him. Hyunjin removes your hand from his pocket and pulls you out of the elevator, toward his room. He punches the code in with his free hand and gestures you inside, finally releasing your hand from his firm grasp. Inside, the room is the same as it always is; dimly lit by a single lamp by the bed, bathing everything in a buttery glow that softens the sharp edges of Hyunjin’s drawing desk and stacks of sketchbooks.

You slip your sandals off and pad unsurely over to the bed, toes pinching into the soft checkered rug at the foot of his bed. The heat of Hyunjin’s body alerts you that he has moved on from removing his shoes and hanging up his bag at the door. 

You tilt your head to look up at him, just as his eyes meet yours his hand is on your throat again, stroking up before spreading firmly across your larynx.

Hyunjin’s lip's part when you press into his hand, asking for more, consenting to be choked. His lashes flutter in a soft laugh when you moan at the squeeze he bestows. He presses his front to your back, his other hand slipping under your sweater, across the soft skin of your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“What a lovely little secret you kept from your best friend,” His lips ghost yours as he squeezes again, a groan erupting from your throat.

Hyunjin breathes a laugh as he shuffles you over to the bed, the front of his thighs pressing into the backs of yours as if you are a doll, marionetting you exactly where he wants.

Your knees bump into the end of the bed and Hyunjin’s hand slips from your throat, turning you around to face him and tossing you down on your back with a soft push. Your hands fist the soft gray fleece of his bedding, anchoring yourself to something, solidifying yourself in this moment.

He wastes no time ridding himself of his clothing, tugging off the sweater, dropping his pants and boxers to be shamelessly nude before you.

You gulp, gaze bouncing across the chiseled body of your best friend. Hyunjin smiles knowingly, everyone reacts to him this way, he just didn’t expect that switch to be so easily flipped on in you. He rakes a hand through his hair, tugging out the tie and allowing his dark locks freedom. While his other hand rises to remove the glasses.

“No-”

He stops and shoots you a quizzical look, one that is punctuated with a paradoxically cute tilt of his head.

“Leave them on.” 

He grins, “another kink.” 

Hyunjin rolls his tongue between his lips, as he bends to tug you down the bed by your thighs. The squeak that escapes your mouth earns you an affectionate chuckle from him and you relax at the familiar sound.

This is your best friend, he’s not some inexperienced man pretending to be a dominant. Hyunjin smiles at you as he feels your muscles release underneath his hands.

The urgency with how he undressed himself is the polar opposite of how he unclothes you. His slim fingers slowly unbutton your pants, methodologically like he’s molding your body like clay.

Committing each touch to memory to draw later, each feeling, each sound. The snap of your button, the zip of your pants, you watch his eyes observing every subtlety.

He bites his bottom lip at the tilt of your hips, his eyes tracing how the light casts shadows over the mound of your cunt.

The darkened valleys that your hip bones create as he shifts the denim down your thighs. He tosses them off to accompany his discarded clothing, absently tracing the malleolus of your ankle as he nestles himself between your open thighs. 

You move to sit up, thinking your shirt is next, but Hyunjin is quick- he pins you to the bed by your throat and the moan that escapes you is raw.

Hyunjin huffs at you, eyes lidding as the sound impacts him. With his hand firm on your throat, his other fingers dip into the band of your panties, middle finger diving into your slit. He moans himself, eyes closing in pleasure at discovering how wet you are. 

Hyunjin releases you altogether, bending over to grab a condom from the crystal ashtray on his nightstand. He rolls it over his length, and everything picks up speed.

Suddenly your panties are gone and Hyunjin spears open your lower lips with one hand, slapping the head of his cock on your swollen clit. You writhe, crying out at the sensation as he circles it with his tip. 

“Choking you makes you this wet?” Hyunjin’s eyes are on your face and you blink yours open at him, nodding. “Can you come from it?” 

“I don’t know, no one has ever tried. Most guys get too lost in-” You break off and he tilts his head, eyebrows rising slyly.

His tip breaks your entrance, “-this pussy?”

You arch off the bed when he thrusts into your bowed body causing you both to moan loudly.

Hyunjin climbs onto the bed, thighs slipping under yours as he presses your pelvis together.

“Oh fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” He heaves out in half moan, half laugh.

“Hyunjin-” you grasp at his arms on your hips and his fierce gaze meets yours as one hand takes its place on your throat, thrusting in and out a few times.

“Squeezing me just like this-shit” his hand on your throat tightens in a way that makes your eyes roll back.

Combined with the sensation of his dick rubbing snuggly into the front wall of your core. He has you panting and whimpering from both.

Hyunjin’s eyes burn into yours as he snaps his hips hard a few times before backing off of you entirely, his chest heaving slightly. You chase after him, legs sprawled open, and tug his mouth to yours with a fistful of his silken hair. 

He grins against your mouth, “That's it, show me what you want.” 

He slips back onto the bed, guiding you into his lap, and you comply, eagerly. Slowly sinking onto his length, only Hyunjin doesn’t want that, he slams you down by your hips and you both cry out at the stretch and clench of your cunt.

His hands drift up your sides, snatching the hem of your sweater, followed by a one-handed snap of your bra, before both are tossed off into the void of his darkened room. 

Hyunjin reclines back against the pillows fluffed up against the headboard, hands trailing down your chest. His right hand, the one that seems to be permanently tinted with oil crayon and kohl smudges your nipples as he grazes them. His pupils spread as he watches you, as you roll your hips forward just a little, to test how he feels in this position.

“It's not too deep for you?” He rolls up into you, bathing in your reaction as you arc forward, breasts thrust towards his face.

He does it again, this time his hand grasping your throat firmly as you shudder against him.

“No,” you moan, rubbing yourself shamelessly into his base.

Hyunjin’s lips part as you continue your gyrations, his hand on your throat constricts in response. You start to pant, your arousal beginning to climb again.

“Fuck” Hyunjin curses.

His pelvis tucking into the bed, away from you as you tighten around him. His other hand rocks your hips encouraging you to keep moving, and you do.

Your eyes lidded as you stare down at your beautiful best friend, his dark hair splayed across the pillows, metal rims of his glasses catching in the light.

Hyunjin smiles at you fondly, his own arousal flaming under your heated gaze. He squeezes your throat again, both of you moaning as you tremble around him. You start to rock, and Hyunjin’s head kicks back as you draw him out and your pussy sucks him back in with urgent strokes.

“Harder,” he bites between clenched teeth, and you slam your ass back, your hands grasping the arm linked to your throat for balance.

You’re not sure who is more lost in the sensation, you or Hyunjin. He lets out a suppressed moan, each time you sink fully into his lap. While you moan and pant unabashedly, gasping for breath as his fingertips alternate long squeezes with short tight ones against the column of your throat.

The coil of your climax sends your nipples into tight buds as it slips across your body, sinking into every muscle.

“Hyun-” you start, and he sits up smashing your lips to his, plush lips parting and tongue diving inside to swallow every moan you release.

With a firm hand on your throat, his hips match your pace, drilling up into you and no longer hiding his vocalization.

Hyunjin’s fingers squeeze tight and hold firm, causing you to burst around him. Overwhelmed not just from the asphyxiation but by his tongue tracing figure eights across yours and the swell of his cock stroking along your sensitive walls.

Arousal gushes out of you, wetting Hyunjin’s lap so that each thrust is announced with an undeniably intimate squelch.  You cry a strangled version of his name into his mouth, his lips still working yours until you’re bowing away from him, your spine curving you back. 

Hyunjin follows right behind you, fisting your throat one last time before his fingers splay open as he comes apart groaning your name. His head tossed back, hips shaking with effort as you continue to seize around him.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he whispers as he collapses back against the headboard, “Mmm.”

Hyunjin rubs your thighs affectionately, rolling his hips into you one final time before pulling you down to lay on his chest.

The two of you lay there in near silence, the only sounds are your labored breaths returning to a normal pattern. Hyunjin idly draws lines along your spine, with the tips of his slender fingers as you come down from your high.

“Hyunjin,” you mumble against the valley of his clavicle.

“Hmmm?” He returns sleepily.

“This doesn’t change anything between us, right?” You lift your head to look at his face.

His eyes are closed, and he looks like a Grecian carved work of art. Full lips glistening with your exchanged saliva, cheekbones dewy from sweat. 

His hand on your back stills briefly, before flattened palms rub up your rib cage and his eyelashes flutter open to meet your anxious stare.

“A couple of fucks won’t change what's between us, honey.” He says firmly and you smile in relief pressing your forehead to his, he wastes no time in sealing his lips to yours.

© COPYRIGHT 2023 by kiestrokes All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

[pennkquest]

Been thinking about my experiences as a POC within fandom while also being an artist and how much that sucks sometimes. This is primarily in regards to the Redacted fandom, but could be applied to any other fandom honestly.

Proper "fussing" under the cut (for those who would rather not see):

Sometimes, I really stop and think about what it must be like to be a white person in fandom, especially when you're an artist. To see yourself reflected in the spaces you exist in all the time. There are some exceptions to this, of course. For example, lack of body diversity is just as much of a problem in my opinion (Like fat people exist. Disabled people exist. Fat, disabled people exist. You can draw them, y'know? /rhet) But generally speaking, it's not difficult to find designs that probably look like you. There will be blondes, brunettes, redheads even— It's everywhere you look.

I don't think most people realize how isolating that ends up feeling though.

Because it's not just the fact that most of the art/designs you'll stumble upon won't resemble you. It's the fact that the prevalence dictates how everyone else interacts with fandom too.

Do you know how much it sucks seeing a post saying "So we all agree that Asher's blonde, right?" and knowing that most people are thinking of a white guy and nothing else?

Or noticing how Alexis, a generally "hated" character in the fandom, is the only vampire most people are willing to make visibly brown?

How about the fact that Gavin, the "thrilling" and "sexy" incubus, has so many black and brown designs— But I can count the non-white Lasko designs I've come across on my hand?

People can do whatever they want. I've said it before, and I'll continue to repeat it when I make these rambles. If you want to make every single design you have varying shades of white and never stray from that, that's your prerogative. But for the love of god, I wish I didn't feel like I was fucking crazy for talking about how much that shit sucks to see as a person of color.

On top of that, do you know how frustrating it is to watch white artists get praised for generic diversity when POC artists have been consistently bringing forth such compelling, stunning designs to table? Like I see the kind of shit that gets praised in this fandom and what doesn't. Racial ambiguity or the slightest addition of a curl gets treated like it's revolutionary— And that's only if it's the "correct" character. It has to "make sense", right? The same way Sam has to have sun-kissed, golden skin even after he's been turned, or the way Guy has to be white because there's no way someone with that personality could be anything but.

Do you know what it's like to be filled with such a sense of joy because someone made a design where a character had your skin tone or hair texture or facial feature? Like, I genuinely have a strong reaction whenever I find a black or brown design in this fandom because they're so rare in comparison to everything else. And when I really stop to think about that, I realize how fucked up of a phenomenon that is.

I love the designs that I've made, but I've also noticed which ones "do better" comparably. I don't change much of anything with how I go about posting or promoting them. The only difference is that some of them fit what is considered widely "canon" in fandom. And the others... don't. I go out of my way to make every design POC in some regard, and you can usually tell visually even without the addition of colors. I'm not gonna stop doing that because I know why I started in the first place. But fuck, it does start to hurt seeing white artists with the same general white designs get hyped up endlessly while I internally debate if I should even make another character look like me or not. If it'll even matter to anyone but me.

Some days, I just really wish it didn't feel like shit being black in this fandom. I hate knowing that I'm gonna post this, and I'll probably get responses for other people of color primarily.

But maybe putting this out will help that pill get easier to swallow.

[abiiors]

thinking ab teasing ross all night long and him having enough so the second the front door shuts hes got her on his shoulders and is eating that thang like a man starved. holding her cunt tight against his face pressing her back into the wall not stopping till she squirts all over his face 😇

(mdni, 18+ only // female reader)

okay before i get into this...

now onto the blurb --

you know you've been an absolute menace today.

it's been like this all day, you--sitting on his lap in your tiny little dress that barely covers anything, grinding on him till he wraps his hand around your waist to keep you still. and yet you press down on him and whisper filthy things in his ear when no one's looking.

you've had fun riling him up knowing you're backstage at a festival. this is not one of their shows, there are no green rooms and little secluded spots for you to fuck in. oh no... there's a tonne of people backstage--other artists and their crew, organisers of the festival, technicians and security and practically everyone under the sun.

not like he hasn't tried. every few minutes you feel his fingers creep up your thigh and inch between your legs. you hear him groan his displeasure in your ear. you hear him growling at you to be. fucking. still.

but you're determined to test the limits.

it's been a while, after all, since you've been a real brat to him. and something about his new hair has you feeling all kinds of way.

you snicker when he has to adjust himself before going on stage. the set is really short--barely thirty minutes but it feels like hours without having him here to keep you warm. without feeling his breath down your neck and chest, feeling his fluttery, sneaky kisses and wandering fingers.

the whole time he's on stage his eyes are trained on you, on your legs and thighs and the deep neckline of your dress. oh he looks pissed... and the thought makes you rub your thighs together. an involuntary whimper slips out of you and you quickly bite your lip to keep it in. on stage, ross messes up a chord.

---------------

not even two minutes after they walk off stage, you feel a hand around your wrist. you almost yelp, mouth partially open, eyes wide but he's faster. the sound's cut short by ross capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss. 

"you're having fun, aren't you?" he tsks and trails more kisses down your jaw and neck.

"don't know what you mean, baby." you shrug and his hold on your waist tightens. your voice is breathier than you expected but his fingers trail higher up your thigh and all thoughts go out the window.

the car ride back to the hotel room is simply torturous. within seconds, he pulls you on his lap, reckless and uncaring that someone might see you. fuck the driver might see you but now his hands have free reign to touch and tease you however he pleases. and oh, does he take full advantage of it...

"you haven't been very good today..." he mumbles continues to suck at the sweet spot on your neck.  

fuck…the hickeys are going to be so noticeable tomorrow…

but that's tomorrow's problem.

right now you're hyperaware of the tingles going down your spine, of his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear, so tantalisingly close, that you can't help the pathetic whine that slips out of you. 

"ross, please…" foolishly, you grab his hand and try to place it exactly where you want it but he swats your hand away without a second thought. 

"greedy, baby," he mocks and places his hand on your throat, gently applying pressure till your vision goes blurry, till your ears ring and wetness floods between your legs. "looks like i’m gonna have to punish you after all."

you know he wants it just as much as you do, the rock hard evidence is right there, digging in your ass. but ross isn't going to give up control that easily, not after you've been such a relentless tease. your back is pressed to his chest, maybe he can even feel your thudding heartbeat but the car finally takes a turn and slows down.

and here you are now, inside the hotel lift after fifteen excruciatingly long minutes giggling at the way he has to hide his very obvious boner.

his jaw ticks at the sound and you know he's not going to go easy on you whatsoever.

---------------

the second the door closes behind him, ross swings you up on his shoulder, completely ignoring your surprised shriek, and makes his way to the plush white bed. 

"what’s so funny, huh?" a sting blooms on your ass, humiliation courses through your body--humiliation and desire and anticipation and before you know it, your back's hitting the bed. before you know it, his massive frame hovers over you, golden chain dangling in front of you, almost touching your collarbone.

"no-nothing."

with all these sensations, it's getting difficult to focus on words. difficult to focus on anything that's not him. your body goes slack at his touch, completely giving up control as he pulls the dress over your head and pulls down your underwear leaving you fully naked and at his mercy.

you reach out a hand, about to pull his shirt over his head but for the second time that night, ross swats your hand away. for the second time that night, he wraps his hand around your throat.

"did i say you could touch me?"

you shake your head no and gasp when ross slides his belt off with one hand.

a tendril of fear laced with lust zings through your body.

"hold your hands in front of me," he commands, voice an octave lower than before, gravelly and deep. voice that skitters down your bones. "can’t have you touching me without my permission now can we?"

you whine in response when the belt encircles your wrists and he clicks his tongue. 

"answer me, darling. use your words for me." 

"won’t touch you without your permission, p-please...’ and then the belt tightens around your wrists, effectively turning your words into a moan

"good girl," he smirks. "now..."

his gaze trails shameless over your body, eyes hungrily taking in everything you have to offer---peaked nipples and bound hands, your dripping cunt that he lingers on and it almost makes your want to close your legs out of sudden shyness but he's faster. next thing you know, his hands are on your knees, spreading your legs wider, putting you fully on display.

"don't be shy now," he mocks, "what happened to my brat?"

"i wasn't---"

"ah!" a click of his tongue, "wasn't asking you, darling."  

your head spins when he lowers his mouth between your legs, biting and sucking at every inch of exposed skin. he doesn't care about the marks he's going to leave behind, he doesn't care about the beard burn. right now he cares about tasting you, about hearing you scream his name as you fall apart on his tongue over and over again.

you mewl each time he bites the inside of your thigh and licks away the sting, slowly making way to your dripping cunt until you feel him sucking on your clit hard and without warning.

your hands fidget, dying to touch him, dying to push his face down between your thighs but the most you can do is squeeze his head between your legs and grind against his face. every lick of his tongue, every bite and graze and kiss makes your spine feel like jelly, makes your eyes roll back in pleasure.

the feel of his tongue lapping up at you, flicking through your folds has drool pooling in your mouth. tears fall down your cheeks, making a mess and leaving black mascara streaks behind. your mind goes blissfully blank as ross continues his movements, occasionally adding his fingers, pinching your clit between his fingers, eating you out like a starved man until your knees are almost touching your shoulders and your back pushes into the mattress. and all of this feels like fucking heaven.

the burn of all his bites, the tightness of the leather belt, the bruises his fingers leave behind, the strain on your thighs and the knot building in your stomach, you want to savour it all. you whining and moaning his name just spurs him on more. his fingers snake up you hips, gripping your hips in a grip that’s almost too tight. the bitemarks and fingerprints he leaves behind everywhere are for people to see, so everyone knows you're his.

every time you manage to open your eyes, you're met with the sight of his head disappearing between your legs, of messy hair and glistening beard. every time he looks at you, you see how fucked out he looks with his dilated pupils and hooded eyes.

and all of it brings you closer to the edge.

"feel so-so fucking g-good," you moan as the knot tightens more. your legs feel like jelly, fuck your entire body feels like jelly, so malleable in his hands.

his fingers splay on your stomach holding you down just as you try to arch your back, try to grind onto him harder but you cry out at being pushed down. electricity runs wild beneath your skin and for a moment your brain goes completely blank, completely cut off from the rest of your body.

a second later you feel the wetness pooling under your ass and you open your eyes to see his shocked, drenched face.

"did you just--" he releases a shaky breath. "fuck..."

the world goes white as you gasp and catch you breath and try to focus on him again.

"ross..."

"baby that was so hot," he breathes, lowering his mouth between your legs again, placing a kiss on the inside of your thigh again.

his face is almost soaked, so is the collar of his shirt. the bed feels drenched and then it finally dawns on you.

"did i j-just squirt?"

"jesus christ, baby. yeah... fuck i wasn't expecting it."

you giggle a little seeing him so speechless but he's still busy looking at you with complete awe on his face.

"just for me. so fucking perfect, just for me."

"just for you," you echo already feeling the familiar heat curling in your stomach again. insatiable when it comes to him. always hungry for more.

this time when he bends down, it's to kiss you hard until all you can taste is your own release on his tongue.

"made a complete fucking mess," he growls and gives your makeshift cuffs a tug. "

your head spins at the thought of doing all that again, of having him buried balls deep inside you until you're soaking his cock and screaming his neck. ross clocks those thoughts instantly.

"still want more?" he smirks.

you bite your lip and take him in--his messy hair and wet mouth. then you reach up for another kiss. "always want more."

[cleolinda]

Here's another song I had wanted to write about: Hozier's "Movement." It is a fact of my existence that I get into a musical artist/band about 10 years after everyone else does, and then they become 30% of my personality (see also: Florence and the Machine). So I didn't really get with the program until Wasteland, Baby, and even then, it was for an unusual reason.

When did this album come out, spring of 2019? I had spinal surgery in early 2018. A discectomy, L4/L5; the disc had gradually become herniated due to a fall I'd had at a convention. My surgeon was required to warn me that surgery would come with a (low) chance of paralysis; it was my choice to make. After two weeks of seizing up in pain every hour or so, confined to my bed—hydrocodone did nothing—I chose the scalpel. Even then, it was another four weeks before he could work me into the operating schedule. Trust me when I say, no matter how I'm doing now, I do not regret having that surgery.

But he also told me, "You will always be a person who has had spinal surgery." Since anything was better than screaming every time I moved, I didn't fully understand what he meant until a year or so later, when I was still in pain—a chronic but lower-grade pain that came and went depending on how much activity I dared try that particular day. It was infinitely better than before. And, but, yet, I still deal with that chronic pain today. I will always be that person.

"Walk," he told me. I had a packet of therapy exercises to do, sure, but he was firm on this point. "That's the main exercise you need. Just walking." Which I couldn't do at first—I didn't have to learn to walk again or anything, but I was in a wheelchair early on, then on a wheeled walker for a couple of months. I also have inherited neuropathy in my feet, which was exacerbated by electrically painful sciatic nerve damage down my right leg while I waited for my slot in the surgery calendar. (I swear to God I will start talking about music soon.) I only walk across the longest side of my backyard. I don't leave it and walk around the neighborhood, because I generally have about two minutes upright to get back to the house once my feet start hurting.

So I had been struggling with my walking assignment for about a year when "Movement" came out. Of course it's literally about physically moving (and emotionally being moved), but that wasn't what captured me. The song starts out slow and reflective; it was a gentle tempo for a time when I couldn't walk very fast, and I still use it as a warm-up today. But there are two other things I love about it. One, the willow tree in the chorus, as I was walking my little runway back and forth under a canopy of wild water oak draped with wisteria, looking up into the sun through the leaves and snowflake flowers of an overgrown cherry laurel. Sound met landscape.

But the other thing is how—generous? accepting?—the words are of the "you" of the song. This person, the lyrics say, does not have to be a virtuoso dancer like Fred Astaire or Sergei Polunin (who's in the video up there). Instead, "you're Atlas in his sleeping, and when you move, I'm moved." My absolute favorite part is,

Move like grey skies Move like a bird of paradise Move like an odd sight come out at night

What the fuck even are these lyrics. I can't. That's so good. You ever sit there as a writer and think, I'm so mad I didn't come up with that? Just the pure unexpectedness, "I'm telling you how earthshakingly amazing this person is. Like a beautiful willow, like a rare bird, like some weird-ass cryptid in the night, I don't even know what that was about but I love it." What even. So good.

And I was for sure an odd sight shambling back and forth across the back of my yard: five minutes at first. Then ten the next week, working my way up to thirty, still in a dull roar of constant pain a year into my recovery. But this is a song that says, your efforts to move are moving, whatever movement is natural for you; you may be sleeping just now, you may be moving without moving, but you are wonderful not in spite of being strange in your movements, but because of it. The song always feels like a friend walking along with me, no matter how many setbacks I have, or how slow I have to go.

Anyway, Unreal Unearth comes out next Friday. The five songs Hozier's put out so far are ridiculously good, and I've scheduled a couple of months to be completely feral about it. When the weather is less dangerously hot, we'll find out which songs are good to move to.

[twopoppies]

"I would like Harry to be remembered for his great songwriting skills, his voice and the great performer he is, but everything is so overshadowed by the rest that in 20, 30 years I don't know if he will be remembered as one of the greatest of our generation (and he deserves it so much). I just think there's too much noise overshadowing his music"

I'm the say ranting anon as yesterday and I was gonna leave it at that but I saw this and I think is an interesting topic so I'm gonna rant a little bit more (sorry in advance).

It's impossible for anyone to know how is Harry gonna be remembered 30 years from now but what we can do is trying to compare him with the artist we consider legends today.

Lets take Elton John, Freddy Mercury, Prince, George Michael, Madonna, Whitney Houston and David Bowie for example... Each and every single one of them is considered a legend, the most successful in their field, the ones current artist use as inspiration and what they aspire to be. You know what else they have in common? Careers full of rumors, cheating scandals, drugs scandals, gay scandals, failed marriages, fake marriages, money problems, etc, etc, etc.

But those are no the things they're remember for, at the end their music and their art is soo good and made such an impact that all the "noise" sorrounding their careers just take a passive role.

I mean, as a fan, leaving through the rumors and all the nonsense is annoying as fuck and I would love if when I spoke about Harry people ONLY asked me about his music because he is so much more than his supposed girlfriends but what can I do?

And of course it is possible to be successful in the industry without playing the game, I wasn't trying to imply Zayn isn't but there's levels to that success, at least in the eyes of the general public.

Like let's be honest, all 5 of the boys has had a successful solo career so far but which one of them is more likely to achieve the legend status your anon is talking about??? Everyone under the sun knows the answer is Harry.

And why is that? It's not because he's has a powerful voice or because he's an excellent lyricist or because he's and incredible performer. Of course he's all that. But the reason he has achieved so much and is probably get the legend status someday is because how his team has marketed him. I'm sorry but without Columbia and the azzoffs Harry wouldn't be where he is today 🤷‍♀️ They're horrible people but they sure as hell know what they're doing and Harry is happy with their job and where his career is going so...

Yep. Marketing really does make a difference.

There’s something unquantifiable about the artists you mention, though. Take Madonna, for example. Cyndi Lauper came out at the same time. She had a much better voice. Her singles were huge. She had a great look. She definitely had fans (still does), but Madonna had that extra something that drew the masses in and kept them there (and oh my god did she have scandals and gossip galore—some of them very purposely manufactured).

And I agree with you about the Azoffs/Sony/Harry’s team. They’re taking him where he wants to go.

In reference to this

[artsy-the-little-pink-pencil]

Jax (Jackson) Kanon Cezário

Age when he joined: 15

Height: 6’2

Age Now: 23

Fave Color: Lavender

Sexuality and Gender: Trans Man and AroAce

Pronouns: He/Him

Personality Type: ESTP

Zodiac: Aries

Home State/Country: New York (Brazilian American)

Birthday: April 1, 2002

Year he joined: 2017

Headcanons

He was one of the Beta Testers of the game. He was responsible for the ideas of the silly shenanigans the characters would go on or the quests everyone would do. Once he figured out what was really going on, he was forced into the game.

Being able to jump very high, run fast, see very well and far, super hearing, and has cartoon like physics. He’s also able to summon any key. He’s also skilled in machinery and can use any tool to his advantage. He can wield very comically large weapons and objects. He makes his own prank weapons/props.

Hates corn cuz he’s allergic to it.

Has many comically large weapons in his room.

Unironically likes eating carrots. This has granted him night vision.

Likes eating any fruit in general, even with the skin…

Is very flexible and good at gymnastics but terrible at any other sport.

Came from New York. His mother died at birth and his father always blamed it on him.

Smoked a lot before joining the circus.

The reason he bullies the others is because he can’t stand seeing anyone do better than him and needs everyone to suffer just as much as he is.

Because of his “tough guy” persona, he's starting to forget who he truly is… one things for sure, he’s a coward at heart.

Will purposely spread fake rumors just for fun.

Has Somniphobia, which means he is terrified of going to sleep, he always has the worst nightmares.

Is the reason for Queenie's abstraction.

Has the WORST handwriting, it literally looks like scribbles, but yet he can read it perfectly.

Has photographic memory, this can be a curse and a blessing.

Always has snacks on him for some reason.

When he's surprised, an exclamation point will appear next to him, and when he’s confused, a question mark will appear, ect.

Is very touch starved.

Is very apathetic and is emotionally numb.

Is actually really good at knitting scarves.

If Caine would allow it, Jax would be the best bartender and get you ✨Royally Fucked Up✨.

Get to know the jackrabbit!

Chinese Horoscope: Horse

Spirit Animal: Snake

IQ: 101

Nicknames: Dickhead (Artsy), Jaxy-boy (Gangle), Menace to society (Ragatha), literally every horrible name under the sun (all by Zooble)

Allergies: Peanut Butter, Corn

Disabilities: Paralysis from Polio as a child and uses forearm crutches

Right or Left Handed: Both

Quirks/Habits: His ears both in the game and irl will twitch randomly.

Siblings: 2 older brothers

Who is the most important person in his life: Himself

Person he looks up to the most: No one

Best Friend: No one

Lover: No one

Rival: Everyone

If he could have a superpower it would be: Super Strength

Dream Job: Demolitionist

Biggest Fear: Being forgotten or letting people get too close

Biggest Flaw: Being an asshole to everyone

Favorite Animal: Bear

Favorite Hobby: Fucking with everyone

Favorite Food: Anything meaty

Favorite Drink: Anything alcoholic

Least Favorite Food: Oatmeal

Favorite Season: Fall

Favorite Movie: Jaws

Favorite Book: The Outsiders

Favorite Singer/Artist: ABBA

Very skilled at: Inventing little trinkets or chaos causing weapons

Least skilled at: Being nice

Greatest Achievement: Naming Gangle

Pet Peeves: Chewing sounds, Ragatha, People being overly nice

Introvert or Extrovert: Extrovert

Organized or Messy: Messy

Is he good at singing: Yes

Can he bake: No

Can he cook: No

Does he play any sports: used to play Soccer before he got Polio

Instrument: Guitar

Motto: “Life's too short to be nice to anyone.”

Theme Songs

Oh No - Marina and The Diamonds

Play with Fire - Sam Tinnesz Ft. Yacht Money

Terrible Things - AXIE

[luvtonique]

I have an irrational fear (actually no start over)

I have a completely rational fear of meeting new people, especially artists. I say it's completely rational because I have, literally over 10 times now, drawn fan art for an artist and showed it to them, only for them to get angry and tell me to fuck off and call me every single buzzword under the fucking sun.

I'm gonna be real, I don't get it.

I don't get how a person who has literally never met me, no no not just me, anyone.

A person who has never met someone, ever, meets that person for the first time, and that person literally hands them a gift and does something nice. A little "I really like your art and I wanted to draw one of your characters" or "I was inspired by one of your characters to make one of my own that's similar" or "Your art inspired me to learn how to make art that's somewhat similar in style" or something.

And the artist, never EVER having talked to this stranger literally ever, has already pre-built an unfathomable hatred for them.

How?

Like, how is that even possible?

How could your literal only interaction with someone, literally ever, LITERALLY EVER, be "They walked up to me, said I'm a huge inspiration to them, and handed me gift art" and your response is "And I told them to go fuck themselves and then made multiple tweets/posts about how much of a shithead they are."

And yet those people

Those artists who have done that to me

Are extremely popular and extremely beloved

And I'm sitting over here like "OKAY FUCKING REALLY"

"WHAT DID I FUCKING DO???"

[6mayhem]

top ten men??

okay.....this is a long personal post BE PREPARED!!! to find me cringe after this

in no particular order and most are also gonna be fictional LOLOLOLOLOL starting with the real people tho

gerard way...what can i say..... just 10/10 who I'm trying to be. All my problems would be solved if I could 100% embody him body mind and soul circa mid 2000s because spiritually that's who i was born to be. also the music is good very good. does he even count as a man anymore everyone's a transgender nowadays. anyway i don't actually know anything abt him apart from the stage persona and that's the way I'm trying to keep it bc everything i learn about celebrities I learn against my will

manuel germanletsplay. god i was so obsessed with him as a teenager. for the americans: he was of the biggest german gaming/minecraft youtubers and national heartthrob among teen girls. everyone shipped him with his friends including me THE FANFICSSSS..... he inspired a lot of transgenderism in me due to his twinky nature and his piano talent and long hair and the fact he never (to this day) showed his face. his persona was like a real life creepypasta character when it comes to sex appeal

isak valtersen skam..... skam is like my longest running hyperfixations i first watched it circa 2017 and have been rewatching at LEAST twice a year since then. idc that it's a teen show.......... he contributed greatly to my transgenderism. I love manipulative teen guys who are just the absolute fucking worst when you look at it objectively. he was such a male manipulator the whole s1 arc rlly made him out to be such a mastermind supervillain it was so silly. and then he got rlly pathetic in s3 ❤️❤️❤️❤️ anyway awesome outfits also..And anger issues

mickey milkovich shameless.... don't feel like I need to explain. WHAT AN ARC !!! he's a terrible person but like somehow the most sympathetic character in the entire show. everything past s7 was such flanderization it made me mad as hell but before that waowwaow.....he deserved better. my meowmeow. would move mountains and literally kill people for the most average annoying guy ever (real mickey fans hate ian) (jk hes fine minus the last 2 seasons)

syd march antiviral. what a fucking freak. he's got everything. blood kink. appearance of a sickly victorian child. horrible daddy issues. bisexuality. a thinly veiled transgender subplot. he's just so slimy and greasy and you just wanna punch him the entire movie I love it. big fan. also a male manipulator..U never know how much of his weakness is real and how much is faked to gain people's trust. he's just like me when it comes to obsessing over random beautiful women!!

sven kretschmer from ich hasse liebeslieder. no one knows this book because it was posted in like 2015 on a german fanfiction website but it permanently changed my brain chemistry. wow. i love him so much. he's everything to me. eyeliner wearing bisexual emo with greasy black hair who canonically looks like gerard way and struggles with every mental issue under the sun. erectile dysfunction subplot. has an abusive father. my favorite band is only kj because that's HIS favorite band. you could trace back 90% of who I am as a person to sven. HE BECAME A TATTOO ARTIST ALSO THAT'S SO COOL!!! and he's the most loyal bastard ever just a kicked puppy kinda guy i love men who are really clingy in relationships. but at the same time he also has insane anger issues which I ALSO love in a man GRIN 😁 😁 😁 😁 😁 ^^^^ see above faves this is a whole archetype of guy for me

jack as you are.... See profile pic!! you already knowwwww!!!!! he's just like me fr. sheltered/seen as weak and sensitive and longing to be rebellious and do things to impress other men (in a homosexual way). maybe transgender? maybe killed his best friend/brother/lover!! again...greasy long hair YAYYY!!! the whole movie could be a forcemasc fantasy

mirco from this sorta obscure book called landeplatz der engel....his mother rejected him. the woman who took him in is a prostitute.... he says ableist slurs but is the least ableist person in the whole book...he wears a ring with a jewel in the shape of a boar head how cool is that?? and he stole a car. and does illegal car races. and ditched his girlfriend for his new male best friend. and he's secretly really traumatized but never wants to be a victim and gets mad when you imply his past affected him 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 idk I just love how he never pretends to be a better person than he is, but the opposite of it. He never gives himself credit for how kind he is

will graham... What a fucking freak(2). proves that your life isn't over at 30 you can still find the love of your life and do really weird shit because you decided that the only thing you care about is what a freaky european cannibal thinks of you.

adam saw....what can i say. he's awesome. he's transgender. he's funny. he's tragic. he's in love with a man twice his age while his brain can't decide if it should see him as a father figure or romantic interest. relatable to me personally

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

my oc neph bell because he's awesome and basically me

steve harrington and eddie munson from stranger things bc i still ship it (there's zero canon moments but idgaf about canon its stupid anyway) bc 1. Tragic blond failson with daddy issues and 2. eddie gave me aesthetic aspirations fuel for like a full year before i figured out who i wanna be. so yeah. I'm only a little bit ashamed of this

tyler durden fight club because yeah. and by extension the narrator bc the moments where he acted like a proper weird fucker were so funny and also meeeeeeee x3

nezumi no.6 you edgy fucker

mo folchart inkheart bc i always wanted him to be my father

kurt cobain

my other oc cesar liehmann bc he embodies everything i like re: blond men with anger issues who have to compensate for their average height by acting more confident than they are

free space for whoever i might be forgetting rn. I always have a LOT of thoughts about fictional men....

SHIN TSUKIMI FROM YTTD LOL I REMEMBER BEING CRAZY ABT HIM

max zerophilia... just completely embraces his sexuality and status as a Z. shamelessly in love with both luke and luca. HOT!!!! kind of bad at flirting but it works for him. AND HE'S ALSO HOT AS MICHELLE AND I'M BISEXUAL SO THAT'S THAT

[ofmermaidstories]

(This is all about ''Something (just like this'' :], i apolagize in advance)

Theres an auther (you, i'm thinking of you) that has given sutch weight to the simple human pains everyone has, let them cary a greaf in every breath they're mentioned, i can't help but ache with the mc as one because i get it, i understand and even if i handn't felt the same pain that crushes your hope of ever being loved in the same way you do, if i hadn't though myself cynical and bitter the way she does i still think i'd get it.

I still think i'd be able to see myself cradle my heart like an infant, even though it's an old ugly, terrable creature.

The plots so ritch it's unbalivable that i get to read your works for free, like i knew it was her bestfried the second our artist glaced over her sholder and saw her drawing kids with guns in masks. But it was her best-fucking-fried, who dies without answering her livid questioning.

It's her constant self awair bitternes to the person she is that just-

Chefs fucking kiss.

Like the way she views herself and everyone else she thinks threatens the few things she sees as good in her with a sort of cynicalnes, but through herself that is bloody perfect.

Shes insane for the shit she pulls, Gods i love her.

I cannot expres enough of my love for the way you craft your words, the story and the way you put so mutch care into it makes me ill.

Izuku is caprured so well, his whole being being intertwined with Katsukies-....i am going feral as we speak.

Also her being an artist so acuretly presented, it's insane, the way she is about her skill, her talents, her works and her instuments and the way there are these little moments she wants to capture is so stupidly accurate to how i see the world as a creative. Always hungry and always craving to make, even when im no where near a peace of paper or even the shittiest of pens.

Im grinning and in fucking tears. (As i was writing all of this in my notes i wasn t even that far into the last chapter.)

Holy fuck, god i fucking despise Hana. And i get why, and im amazed at how her resoning, her pain and anger dosn't justify(?) shit when i've seen a lot of things where someones inhumane actions get swept under the rug cus they were hurting quietly, or something.

She was like a quirk nazi. Nothing redeams(?) that, y'know?

Auther i am shaking you by the sholders, and im sorry if my nails dig in too deep but holy fuck. Breathings hard, fic so good my rib cage has started to feel too small for my heart, and my lungs, and the hole your story has carved inbetween all of it.

Fic so good i haven't even gotten to the end and i want to thank you for, for all this has done to me. I'm shit with fics where there are a lot of words, no matter how mutch i love the characters and yet, and yet somehow this is one of the 100k + fanfics i have enjoyed every gut wrenching second of.

I feel like vomiting

In fact

I might.

They all need therapy after this, methinks.

(I know this is long and loopy, and my english (my second language) is not great, and that ultametly i kinda said nothing but i needed you to see (at least a little bit of) how insanely wonderful your craft is)

Anywho, i still haven't finished, and that was a lot of words, but i hope you have a lovely 24 h, i wish you the best with all of your future works. "Something (just like this)" has...given me brain damadge i'm guessing.

Blue, there is nothing to apologise for, I think you are wonderful. 🥺 You said everything. 🥺 From this message alone—from you taking the time to write it, and send it, I can tell you that there’s nothing about your heart that’s old or ugly or terrible. If anything, I think it’s golden—like the afternoon sun, reflecting all that good light back until it’s too much to hold. 🥹🫀✨

But okay, lemme try and do the thoughtfulness of this ask some justice. 🥹💕 God, to be honest I kinda worried about Hana, and her place in the story. Like—knowing how it was going to end. I think a lot of us will end up parting ways with people in our life that were important—and some, unfortunately, for ugly reasons. Hana’s betrayal is like, so extreme, so dramatic and terrible. And it doesn’t just hurt Reader, it hurt other people, kids. Like sure, Hana was hurt—but then she turned around and hurt others, willingly. And there’s no justice for the ones she directly affects. You’re right, Blue. You can’t redeem that—you can only pick up the pieces around it.

Tbh, I think Reader’s bitterness would’ve made building a life after it all that much harder, if it weren’t for other people. 🥹 Like—Scribbles cynical nature was such a fun part of writing the fic, lmao, and it absolutely would’ve made life that much harder for her in the aftermath if she didn’t have support. 🥹 I think someone like Scribbles, who barely trusts themselves, was a good match/contrast for Izuku who—like, even in canon is learning to overcome the worst of his most fear-driven habits. It gives him the ability to see Scribbles in a way that—that she needed. 🥺

Bluey!!! You’re an artist too??? Like our Reader. 🥹 The need to document everything is so real lmao. Like—it’s constant!! An insatiable way of looking at the world. 🥹 How do I capture this, how can I do this. I literally just had that feeling the other night, driving home under a perfectly straight trail of cloud like a comet’s tail. The sky was that perfect, indigo glow, and there was a single star alongside of it and it genuinely looked like the trail of a meteorite streaking over the sky and I wanted to remember everything about it. I wanted to draw it, write it, anything to keep it.

Blue, you have said so many kind things about my writing. 🥺 Either in this ask or in the tags of other things. And!!! It means so much to me, every time. 🥺 This is what I mean when I say you have a reflective, golden heart. 🥹💛🌿 I’m always going to be glad that like, I could write something that made you wanna reach out and say hello, lmao, but mostly I’m just glad you’re here. ☀️

(Also, as an aside—you mentioned a song, in the tags of one post a little while ago. I wanted you to know that I immediately ran to spotify to try and find it, lmao, and listen to it and like, now it lives in my likes and every time I listen to it I think of you and also of maybe trying to write a Bakugou worthy of the association, lmao. It’s such a sweet song, Blue, thank-you for the new music 🌷)

[crispytoastyt]

Why Musk is Censoring Artists on Twitter

Elon Musk is really screwing artists around by censoring their commissions. The reason is that he thinks that every artist on Twitter are liberals and leftist and all because we were expressing our visual creativity and empathy. Meanwhile, he is in for AI Art, which is the reason why we are getting thrown under the bus for.

If we come up to Elon Musk in the first, go up to his desk, slam both the pencil and paper on the desk, look at him, intimidate him, and tell him to "draw." It does not matter if we tell him to draw a dog, a tree, a car, or even a sun - we just order him to draw.

But of course, we can expect him to not draw anything or just scribble like a stupid toddler that he is right now.

Oh, and another reason why he does not want people to buy art commissions from artists? He wants people to waste their money on Twitter Blue because Twitter is rapidly losing its value. He is nothing but a miserable old manbaby who owned a car company that cost dozens of innocent lives AND wants to go to Mars so he can be there alone and can fuck a martian. And people think he is going to be the hero by solving world hunger and all that crap.

He is no hero.

He is not an engineer.

He is not even a damn artist let alone sucking at it.

He is the biggest loser in the world.

[cookinguptales]

I would just like to state again, for the record, that freaking no one does opening paragraphs like Shirley Jackson does opening paragraphs.

Like everyone knows The Haunting of Hill House, but it bears repeating:

“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against the hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.”

And that is incredible enough, that is already one of the best openings to a novel in history, but THEN.

Then we have We Have Always Lived In The Castle!!!

"My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often thought that with any luck at all I could have been born a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had. I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita phalloides, the death-cup mushroom. Everyone else in my family is dead."

Has any opening paragraph ever made me want to know more about a character? No! I don't think so! I am fucking obsessed with Merricat and I want to put her in a jar and study her like a bug!

Like I'm always impressed with Jackson's craft, but opening paragraphs are so hard. They are so hard! And she always seems to craft one that draws you right into the web of horror that she's creating in that book. You're always pulled right into that house, whether it's lurking the halls of Hill House, not sane, or the incestuously isolated Blackwood residence. You're drawn into that madness instantly, and instantly you understand these characters who will not be understood by those around them.

I love the way she can draw you into the POV of protagonists who simply do not interact with reality to the point where you become comfortable living in their version of reality, too. You get them even as it fascinates and horrifies you. I feel like that's one reason why her books are so effective.

Every mind can break, but every mind does so in such a specific way. And it's the specificity of the madness and the ability to convey it in a way that makes you feel it, too, y'know? You come to realize that these women could never have been anything else, could never have been sane, because they live in homes that are... well, not sane. Their world is not sane, so how could they be? How could any of us be?

So you get pulled into this whirlpool of reality-shifting madness and deeply unreliable narrators and when you finally free yourself at the end of the book, you feel like you're walking back out into the sun squinting, dazed. Confused to find yourself back in a reality that makes some semblance of sense, but unable now to ignore the seams in it.

Goddamn, what an artist.

[feuxx]

YOURE SO CUTE AHHH i didnt see the reply oh my god. i was checking every once in a while and ig it just escaped me 😭i would never leave u on read im so sorry!!!

AND please feel free to use my asks to ramble about absolutely anything omg😭i love reading anything you have to say !!! AND ALSO. ME FUCKING TOO. the “feeling especially shitty because l've been hyperfixation-less and draw-less” is so me right now too. im not even remotely talented in drawing, but for me, its the writing. but art bro ugh its devastating when the spark that keeps it going dampens for a while. genuinely, i would say your art, in the past and currently, are all phenomenal—and i understand more than you can know on the feeling of “Past Me being Better” esp when i read some of my own past shit sometimes and im like ??? i suck rn what is this all for ?? ugh

for my lil two cents, if you don’t mind me rambling😭, i would say this: your place in any fandom and as an artist is all you—your art is a part of it, but it’s just you that matters the most. your art is a reflection of something inside you and your life, and nothing—past, present, or future—can take that away from you. its hard for us to look at our creativity subjectively when we have continuous pressure on ourselves that we want to make the best of everything we make, ya know? i’ve been having issues lately where i feel my writing is nothing because i am basically nothing in the world—ahh damn, as dark as that sounds, i swear im okay LOL

but ive been fighting this mentality for a few months now with this: life is not long enough. it never is. and with this life i was given, i desperately also want to make stuff and put it into the world, even if it helps just one single person get through life easier. life is painful and worrisome and sometimes feels too hard, but sometimes it’s so beautiful and so happy and so loving and so kind and so many of us are trying so hard to be better than we were yesterday.

ultimately, i think im trying to say that i completely hear you and my heart is more than going out to you. fighting against ourselves is the longest fight we have—from start to finish frfr. my Solution is to not push anything that does not feel like **you**. who you are, what you create, what you bring to fandoms and spaces, only the you that is now can determine and define that, not the you of the past.

we grow, we learn, we constantly try—and that’s all we could rlly ever ask for, i think. by trying to see the love in the world that gets lost too often. art is love, but art is also watching a show that makes us cry, hearing someone you love laugh, eating something good (LIKE YOUR STRAWBERRY FLAVORED WAFFLE-LIKE COOKIES THAT SOUND BUSSIN. DID U GET TO EAT ANY AHHH im suddenly starving LMFAO), seeing ourselves smile at something silly, or even just getting through the day sometimes, you know.

i may have rambled a bit too close to the sun here oh my god im so sorry. i just feel passionate about you wanting to be who you are and creating what you love for the ‘you of the now’🥺💖i gotta work on it myself, too. maybe we can do it together!!!

(or pls feel free to ignore this ask altogether if its too much kdkdksks i understand. i get a bit ahead of myself and can be dumb kfkdks)

anyways, i adore you. i have eaten some tasty things!!! though i just started on a diet bc your girl indulges too much🤭i really been craving pizza lately…isnt that so lame LMFAO i feel like i could want so many cooler things. alas. i hope your days get a bit brighter and your heart gets a bit lighter, lovely. you deserve it.

ill be here for u whenever 😤😤

- your 🥀 anon

don't even worry my lovely!!! it's always okay if you don't reply because you've been busy/literally anything else because all reasons are valid. i was simply worried that you hadn't seen it. 🥺💝

answer under the cut because there are a lot of words and i don't need to flood people's dash lmao

and thank you so much for all your words of comfort. it is hard for me to truly believe your words that my art is "phenomenal" because i look at it and man. the everything... ಠ_ಠ like i do understand on an intellectual level that there are people who like my stuff . but it's simply so weird to me. so many other people are arting better (and worse) than me. what's the point.. <- i recognize that this is a spiral thought that i shall not pursue.

but i'd say that you are extremely right. the love was there and that's what makes things real. let's focus on the "you of today" and make the best of it. the past is a record and the future is well of infinite possibilities.

and please don't say that you're dumb or getting ahead of yourself. 🥺that you're willing to take your time to share your thoughts with me; that you're willing to be vulnerable with me; all these are infinitely precious to me and im cherishing this connection we are having very much. so . please care and love yourself. i can only hope that i'm conveying how much love and gratitude (if that's the right word) i have for you. 🥰💖💖💖

also no wonder you're a writer!! you have such a nice way to express your thoughts. at the risk of repeating myself, there's this expressiveness and honesty bleeding from your words and i feel super compelled to be very serious and 100% locked in my answer. i know that you're keeping your anonymous guise for the sake of the exercise but i'd love to read what you write someday. 🥰💖

man this reply is getting long ;; i did eat my waffle-cookies !!! i've had other flavors before and so these aren't the best but they were still very good <3 i don't have pizza often so that is not a specific craving i share but man it is very good............ honestly top tier food when i think about it....... and omg rightttt me too im dieting 🤝it's my 2025 goal to seriously lose weight because it feels as if i've been indulging my whole life (and to curb other health weight-related issues)... ԅ(¯﹃¯ԅ) my one thing i'm currently doing it is tracking my water intake because im chronically dehydrated and i end up eating when im thirsty. which is very annoying of my brain. ಠ_ಠ

i remember you mentioning finishing the first semester of grad school last time we talked (in 2022 ??? time flies bruh.. omg... wait we are in 2025 and not 2024. our whole thing has been going on for +2 years now??? omg....) how is life treating you? do you have any media you're into rn!! 🥰 (feel free to not answer if you fear you might give away who you are though! 🥺)

please take care my sweet 🥀 anon, i also will be here for you whenever. 💖

[practically-an-x-man]

what are your OCs WORST pickup lines? lol

LMAOOOO bold of you to assume ANY of my OCs know how to flirt in the slightest. This'll be fun (and yes they're horrible, I don't know how to flirt either lmao)

Rae: Omg you know she'd try the "did it hurt when you fell from heaven" trick and holy hell would it annoy the fuck out of Warren (can you guess how many times he's heard that one?)

Robin: "You must be tired from running through my mind all night" (get it? cause Peter's a speedster? haha funny right? lmao)

Madison: "You know how people say there's plenty more fish in the sea? Well, here I am. Don't throw me back ;)"

Ophelia: "It's a good thing I'm a scientist... because I can see a lot of chemistry between us"

Jasper: "Any chance you've got an extra heart? Mine's been stolen..."

Katherine: "You're an artist, aren't you? Because you've been drawing me in."

Kestrel: Barely knows what a pickup line is, but would sketch up a quick mock diagram in their journal, labeled "A Wild Cutie" or something equally cheesy, and present it like "hey, look what I found!"

Quinn: "I'll give you three chances to sweep me off my feet."

Eris: Does not flirt (but Rick tries every cheesy pickup line under the sun to make them laugh)

Nikoletta: "I did a reading into your future and all I saw was me and you."