#i wanted to polish this off before i posted but life is keeping me busy so i though eh what the hell

[stick-ball]

My design for the second volume of AFTG cover ❤️

[grandlinedreams]

|| notes: soft screaming I accidentally posted this one before it was done. Was going to just make this two parts but hey i like pain and pining. Sequel to this

|| warnings: angst, mention of nightmares, I like putting reader Through It, pining

"You're avoiding me."

Azriel watches the way you still, the tension in your shoulders before you turn towards him. You'd been busy with target practice, the soft rhythmic sink of sharp edged blades into the dummy keeping your mind blissfully blank. Until Azriel had approached.

"I'm not avoiding you," you tell him, plucking a rag from your belt and making to polish the dagger in your hand. "I've been busy."

Azriel's eyes narrow. "Rhysand doesn't send you out as often as you've been gone."

You shrug, wiping at already spotless metal. "I'm proactive," you answer as you move to walk away, halted by the black wrap of shadow around your wrist. "What do you want, Azriel?"

"Talk to me," he presses, and your chest aches at the look on his face, the uncertainty that glimmers in his eyes. "Did I do something?"

It would be easy to end things here and now. To confess how you feel, to rip the bandaid off and allow yourself that rejection. But the idea of losing him entirely hurts more, and you swallow hard.

"No, Az. You didn't do anything."

Azriel stares, expression unreadable. And when you try to tug your wrist free of his shadows, Azriel lets you go.

You don't know why you're here.

That's a lie — you do know, because it's the only reason you would ever be standing in front of Azriel's door at this hour. You shift from one foot to the other, sighing softly before looking up as the door opens.

Having been prepared to knock, it takes you a minute to register that he's in front of you, though you don't know why you're surprised. His shadows must have alerted him that you were out here.

"Nightmare?" His voice is low and far from unkind, hazel eyes probing. When you nod, he steps back.

Though your nightmares are nowhere near as frequent as they'd been when you first came to Velaris, they're still often enough that the two of you have found a routine since the first time they'd sent you scrambling for the shadowsinger's room.

Azriel's bed is far wider than your own to accommodate his wings, extended space of soft sheets and blankets that envelop you in his scent. He smells of pine and something murkier but all together familiar, soothing the frayed edge of your nerves.

He joins you once you've settled, tendrils of incorporeal black slinking over your wrists, your cheeks, your hair. Assessing you silently, then reporting their findings back to Azriel.

You wonder what they tell him. That your nightmare had been about him? About losing him, of having to shift your entire existence to his absence? It feels impossible, as intertwined as your life has become with his.

Fingers skim your skin as Azriel reaches for you, and you let him. You close the gap between you, fling one leg over his, feel his hand settle at the back of your head. It's as if nothing has changed between the two of you. "Want to talk about it?"

You study the barely visible curl of ink against his neck, let your eyes drift up to the curl of black hair that frames his face, then back down to his lips. "Not really."

You don't have to look at him to know he's watching you, can feel the weight of his gaze on your face. Probing, just as his shadows did. You wonder what answers he finds there, if he finds any at all.

"What's going on with you?" He asks instead. As if you're a misbehaving child rather than fae. And you know he means well, Mother above, you know — and it still rubs you the wrong way.

"Why do you insist on being like this?" He'd asked in your bathroom, now two weeks ago. Two weeks of skirting around him, trying to distance yourself from that ache, the words on the tip of your tongue.

"Talk to me," Azriel insists. Fingers, gentle despite their scars, graze your cheek. Your heart (wretched, selfish thing) lurches in your chest, off kilter tempo that you've gotten so used to when Azriel is involved.

This was a mistake. To think you could seek his comfort the way you always have, pretend that you aren't as helplessly in love with him as you are — that you haven't watched him look at everyone but you.

That he'll always look at anyone but you.

"I love you." The words slip clean from your mouth, a soft whisper — the way Azriel stiffens says he still heard you. You keep going, digging invisible claws in the festering wound of your chest, ripping it into something fresh and bleeding. "I've been in love with you for the last two hundred and fifty years, Azriel."

It's cathartic in a way, though it's tempered by the way Azriel is simply staring at you. You pull away from him, sliding off the bed before he speaks. "[Name]—"

"It's okay, Az." He doesn't have to say it, because you already know. You move towards the door, pausing just enough to look at him and offer him a soft smile, at odds with the mangled pulp you've made of your heart. "Good night, Azriel."

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Hello, woman who wanted to be a male vampire/ghost and wanted to perform a horny vintage med kink autopsy on a vampire boyfriend here. Firstly wanted to say that since posting that confession (which I think I even started with “I’m a woman, but -“) I’ve been doing some introspection and I don’t think I’m quite as cis as I thought I was. I don’t know if I’m full on trans man or some flavour of nonbinary. It’s hard to tell because sometimes I feel more masculine and sometimes more feminine, but no matter what I feel more like, I mostly feel dysphoric about the fact that I do not and will never look like some tall, pretty vampiric Victorian dandy, and I’m pretty much always going to look like the exact opposite - a short, chubby, vaguely ugly human woman whether I like it or not and I don’t really feel all that safe/comfortable coming out as anything to my family so I can’t even really try to make the futile attempt to change my appearance. But anyway, enough real life misery, that’s what monster fucking fantasies are for, right? Escapism. :)

I went to an antique shop recently and they had some rather beautiful Victorian desks, bureaus and medicine cabinets and the entire time all I could think about is how good it’d be if a vampire boyfriend was to bend me over and fuck me over the top of one of those pieces of furniture. I also saw that article going around about vampire bats and how they bond by mouth feeding blood to one another and that inspired me too, and I simply haven’t been able to stop thinking about both of these things since.

The fantasy is that it’s the 1800’s, I’ve visited his lavish home and conveniently the servants are all out on errands, it’s just me and him, my secret lover. I’m supposed to be there on some kind of business, but we can hardly restrain ourselves. Before we know it, we’re making out sloppily, and I can taste fresh blood in his mouth, making me hungry and kissing him even harder, desperate to taste him. He locks the door, just in case the servants come back home earlier than expected, and he bends me over his mahogany desk, it’s smooth, polished surface and the leather writing pad on it feeling good against my face.

He pulls down my trousers, exposing my rump, grabbing handfuls of the soft flesh, maybe even taking the time not to spank me, but to bite me, his long fangs sinking deep into me, making me bleed and covering my thighs in thin drips of my own blood. He gets hard at the sight of me covered in my own blood, marked up by his fangs, and he gets even harder when he sees how much I’m enjoying it, how hard my cock is or how wet my cunny is. He can barely resist anymore and he gets his cock out, frotting against me slowly and comfortably, taking his sweet time in getting me worked up and close to orgasm.

The entire time he teases me with his slow fucking, rubbing his cock deliciously against my genitals, he both spoils me and degrades me. He pours out a glass of blood from some stash he’s built up to feed himself and coats his fingers in it, making me desperately lick and suck his fingers to drink the meagre amount. Maybe he swipes a thin layer of blood across my lips just so I can get a taste and watches as I desperately lick my lips and fangs. Sometimes he’ll hold a glass to my lips and let me drink, only for it to be wine, not blood, making me even more desperate. Maybe he marks my shoulders, back and neck with more bite marks and eagerly drinks my blood, draining me deliciously, making me dizzy and delirious with pleasure. The entire time, he’s telling me how good I’m being for him, how well I’m taking it, how good my cock or cunny feels against his cock, how good my blood tastes. He calls me his manwhore and tells me how humiliating it would be if everyone knew I was a dandy faggot taking vampire cock and letting him drink my blood, and enjoying it, getting off on secret trysts on desks or on performing vivisections on him like some deranged mad scientist pervert. As he keeps slowly rubbing his cock against me, I can feel the rough wool of his trousers pressing against the bite marks on my bare rump, making them sting so nicely.

Just when I’m about to cum, he flips me over so I’m sitting on the desk. His cock still rubbing ever so slow, until I’m panting and gasping loudly with the need to cum. He takes a big swig from the glass of blood, but holds the blood in his mouth instead of swallowing and makes out with me again, feeding me the blood. It serves several purposes. It starts the aftercare early, helping me replenish the blood I lost after he bit me so many times and drank my blood. Secondly, it keeps my loud moans quiet so we don’t get caught, so our dirty secrets can stay secret. Only we will ever know that we’re vampires and that we love each other like this, fuck each other like this. The world doesn’t get to know. And lastly, of course, it’s just plain hot. I greedily swallow the blood, it dripping down my lips, my fangs coated in it as I kiss him, needing him, needing the blood he feeds me and the love he gives me, loving me exactly as I am even in my monstrous nature and all my flaws. His slow frotting finally pays off, both of us orgasming, a slow dribble of cum leaking from both of us and mixing together.

He carries me in his arms off the desk and to a day bed for us to recover, holding each other close. He uses a handkerchief to wipe away the blood on my mouth and on the many bite wounds he gave me and feeds me more blood to help me regain my strength. Meanwhile, I tell him how much fun it was, how good he makes me feel, how much I loved it, how much I love him, all to boost his confidence and his self esteem as much as I can. We love each other and no one can ever take that away from us - two vampires pair bonded for the rest of their immortal un-lives.

.

[knfmemarbles]

The Devil's Promise pt. 1

Hello everyone! It’s been a while since I have posted any fics but I hope you enjoy this one as it is part one of a series!

word count: 2.5k

pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader, Johnny "soap" McTavish x reader

warnings: none I am aware of (if there are any lmk!)

I sighed and tended to the bar at the Saloon, trying to make a little side cash while my father was off at another meeting. It was always nice not to have to deal with his company, having their prying eyes or clinging hands near me. Sometimes, living under the watchful eyes of politicians was the worst place to be. No freedom, no adventure, and no love life the way I would’ve hoped for. My hand was likely promised to the new person willing to protect our town. Many gunslingers were responsible for safeguarding towns and saloons from outlaws and ruffians. However, my father had been swift to draw a line in the sand, almost crossing it as he attempted to enlist more than he could afford. I brushed my hair to the side, standing straighter as I tried to keep my manners with the newest entering patrons. A broad figure entered the Saloon with his posse, eyes scanning the room before staking a claim on a corner table. A mask dawned on his face, a red skull obscuring his features from vision as a back cowboy hat covered the top of his head. It wasn’t one of those cliches where the whole Saloon went silent as they watched the newcomers come in and were suspicious; they were hardly noticed. After all, the town was quite large, and people passed through on business or travel constantly. However, no one had masks like theirs adorning their faces. It was the only thing that caught people’s eyes as they walked by, but they turned back, knowing it was better not to ask. Better to mind your own business. The man settled on a stool, gesturing for one of his buddies to get up and get drinks as the rest of the posse flocked to the table. They began to joke around and became vivid, nothing like how they entered. The group’s vibrant energy while sharing a drink was now nothing less than fun and bubbly. But the cautionary tale of the Devil’s posse only made my hair stand up on end as I knew the danger they posed and why they were in the part of my town only bothered me further.

The information was like an itch I couldn’t reach as my dad only fed me pieces of what was going on between him and the gunslingers in the area. These men did not play fair. They were more than willing to shed petty blood: At least, that’s what the stories say. Their leader was the one in the red mask. He was known as the Devil himself. Father warned me to stay away from this business if possible as my future was already promised away. He did not want to have his bargaining piece used against him. The one who stood closest to the Devil himself was the one to make quick of getting up. He grunted with effort as he was left with the task of acquiring the drinks for the group. He signaled to you as he walked up, hand twirling around in a circle before gesturing towards his table as he approached your bar. He pressed himself against it with his elbows resting against the old polished wood. After all, your town was wealthy. 

“Round ‘o whiskey.” He said as he eyed me subtly with his head tilted. He looked amused more than lustful as he let his eyes wander. It gave me a short time to take him in. His hair, neatly shaved, faded almost into a mohawk. His jaw stubbled enough to make him look rough around the edges. The clothes adorning his figure were nothing short of cowboy: a cowhide vest resting on a long-sleeve black, thin top, not to mention the chaps that complimented the jeans. 

My gaze flickered up to the cowboy to give him the acknowledgment he sought before moving to grab the closest bottle of Tennessee whiskey. The thick glass was cold to the touch as I reached to grab a few cups to fill, “How many would you like, sir?” 

He tilted his head back to the other side, getting a small head count of his group. He rattled off the number of men in his posse with the smile never leaving his lips. He stayed, leaning against the bar as his eyes wandered around the walls and other tables before settling on a staircase tucked right out of sight unless you were looking hard enough. His curiosity began to get the best of him as he leaned forward to speak over hushed words. 

 “Have any women upstairs?” His words laced in a heavy accent as his eyes followed the staircase. “Or is that just rooms?”

Had he had the accent the whole time? My brain tried to recount as he continued to talk. It sounded almost Scottish. However, his questions did get a laugh out of me. A polite smile eased onto my lips as I shook my head no. “Unfortunately, sir, if you’re looking for company for the night, you must visit a brothel. Those rooms are off-limits to guests.” 

He put his hands up in defense with a chuckle. “Alright, miss, you got me there.”

 The silence hung in the air as I filled the last few glasses with alcohol. I started to set them on a tray, willing to carry them all over myself before the man rose to his feet. 

“Allow me.” He murmured, gently taking a few off the tray to lessen the load. 

“Oh, well, thank you,” I waited for him to reply with a name. 

“They call me Johnny.” he winked before moving to the table, raising the glasses in the air while the gang around him cheered for the first round of drinks. 

 I couldn’t help but linger on the group; watching them with such excitement only made my world feel so much smaller. My heart yearned to be a part of something bigger than myself, even if it was as dangerous as gunslinging. But I was merely a woman; I needed to be prim and proper.  

 I began serving each drink in front of each member. Some took directly from my hand, offering thanks here and there. It wasn’t until I placed the whiskey in front of the man in the red mask. 

His eyes narrowed once he saw it. His gaze rose to mine before placing the liquor back onto the tray with a clink.

“Bourbon.” He spoke gruffly, a thick British accent correcting the drink as he leaned back against his seat. “Kentucky.” It was almost an afterthought like I wouldn’t have figured it out alone. It’s not like the chain of saloons carried many different selections. This one is the number one contender and is currently the only bourbon in most stores as of late. 

I gave a meek nod, pursing my lips as I pulled the tray away from arm’s length.

” Kentucky bourbon. You got it, sir. Was there anything else I could help you with? “I asked with almost a sarcastic rasp to my voice. The man had easily gotten a rise out of me. I flickered my eyes from the cup to his gaze, not allowing myself to let my eyes wander as I stood straight back up. He didn’t bother speaking another word, only grunting, turning his attention elsewhere. I felt my eye almost twitch at how dismissive he was. I shouldn’t want the attention of the gunslinger, but it was difficult trying to ignore the annoyance bubbling instead of fear. I almost wanted to scold him for his mother not teaching him manners.

  I strode back to the bar, setting the tray down to attend to a new glass of bourbon for the man.

While my attention was redirected, Johnny just grinned before turning back towards his boss, who gave him a questioning brow raise. He shrugged in response. "What? She's a pretty gal, and you need to talk more." He says, shrugging as if he wasn't scheming some plan. "She's got a slippery tongue too, might tell you what's up there." He grabbed a thumb backward towards the staircase. "It's a secret, from what I've found out." Redmask sighs briefly before looking at me with a slight hum as if thinking of Johnny’s suggestion.

After finishing pouring the glass, I stopped to check the time. A small curse slipped through my lips as I returned to the table. 

I returned with a small set of menus and gently set them in the center of the table before setting down the bourbon in front of the gentleman with the red skull obscuring his face. I gave a quiet “here you go” before looking to all the other men in the group, “I brought some menus; if you are interested, feel free to wave any of the other waitresses by, and they will be able to help you there.” I smiled and pointed out a few before getting ready to turn and head back to the bar to serve a few patrons waiting for me to serve them.

Johnny smiles at me before touching my wrist, not grabbing it but gently touching it with his finger to stop me. “Thank you, sweetheart. One more thing, though, is there a place we can stay for the night?” He asks, removing his finger from your skin to not make me uncomfortable. In the meantime, Redmask digs around in his pocket and provides a large wad of cash he holds out for the taking.

I felt my face heat up at such a gentle touch. Most men in the bar were very grabby and demanding, rarely using feather-light touches. I gently brought my hand to my chest, touching where his hand had once been. “Ah well, I am sure the local motels around here would be more than willing to take all of you in for the night. Virginia run the one three blocks down.” I smiled, feeling they were trying to figure something out about the upstairs rooms. I looked towards the cash and tilted my head at the red-masked stranger. “Closing the tab?” I asked. I turned to face them with genuine confusion as they were barely served one round. I glanced at the other cowboy and gave him a kind smile, “Would you like me to have someone go over to let Virginia know you need a place to stay?”

He nods, mentally noting the place before taking hold of his glass and drinking. “Ah, that would be appreciated; thank you, sweetheart.” Johnny cooed while his boss sipped at the drink. His eyes leave you after returning to the other men as they talk and joke. The red-masked man, however, just nodded to the question he asked, huffing in slight annoyance. “Any other drinks can be bought by themselves.” He grumbled out, not wanting to feed into his men’s drinking problems. Nor get blackout drunk and cause problems while trying to stay low.

“Okay, I can close that for you. Let me get your change.” I murmured and grasped the money from his gloved hand, brushing my fingers as I rounded to the bar and counted out the Change. I kept glancing at the group, returning to why they were there. Maybe Father had business? No, he never talked well of the posse—quite the opposite. I was utterly lost in thought when counting the money, almost wholly zoning out. 

The masked stranger watched as I counted the change. Though he didn’t intend to let me give it to him, he would hand it back, even as a tip, if anything. He turned back towards Johnny, who was already looking at him. He subtly tilted his head in my direction and asked a nonverbal question. It was answered with a single nod. They had come into the town for something. And they would get it no matter what happened—a score to settle almost.

I stopped before bringing the change back and setting it on the table. “Virginia is aware of your upcoming visit. I hope you all enjoyed your time here.” I murmured before heading back to the bar before moving to make my way to the staircase, ready to take a small break from the smell of alcohol and bustling bodies. The amount of people trying to grab my attention slowed my movement to the room, but I needed to get going. I kept glancing behind me, feeling burning gazes on my back, my head on a swivel until I met his from across the bar again. I gulped before continuing up the store, fishing in the small pocket I created in my dress for a key to the room I had been using. 

I looked over my shoulder before unlocking the third door and sliding through quickly before giving a soft sigh and moving to set the key down on the nearby dresser. Looking at the time, I promptly began to head to my father’s, moving to strip from the corset and dress to something a little more fancy and ladylike. That way, my reputation would not be affected as my father used me as his little pawn. I wish I could avoid it at all costs, but family love ran deep, and I felt I would only let them down if I didn’t do as told. Not to say mothers’ punishments weren’t the other reason.

I slipped on a different pair of shoes, throwing on light makeup before snagging the key and leaving. After locking the door, I descended the stairs and started through the bar, dodging touchy customers and waving bye to some of the ladies, knowing my father was about to have my head for being late. I cleared my throat, passing by the posse as I waved a tiny bye. The curiosity of who they were gnawing at me as I truly wished I could get to know them.

Johnny gave a tiny head tilt along with the tip of his cowboy hat, grinning as he watched as I walked away. He was unaware of the second set of eyes following me as I left, yet he made no motion to say goodbye. After I left the bar, though, redmask stood. He signaled to Johnny to follow; he was the closest thing to the second in command he would get. They also waited a few minutes before leaving the bar, looking around to see where I had scurried off to.

I waved over my driver and watched the horses slowly trot up, smiling as I approached. I stroked the nose of the horse gently before talking to the coach before moving to get into the cart. The smile disappeared as quickly as it appeared, a frown taking place as I knew I would now have to face my father’s men and wishes. I grew mildly frustrated. I was wishing that I could sneak off and go on my adventure of sorts. After slinking out of the Saloon, I hadn’t even felt the gaze or the men following me.

[epithetical]

2024 UPDATE (OFFICIAL)

Hey, everyone. Longtime no talk. Despite being weirdly active on this account, I haven't really made any textposts since high school. So I've decided to fix this by giving a gigantic update post about my very busy 2023. If you're new and don't know anything about me, or knew me as a teen and are wondering what I'm up to now: buckle up.

TL;DR:

Dropped out of art school. Released an award-nominated(???) dating sim, ValiDate. Killed the Golden Girls Take Manhattan DX. Conquered Jaw Explosion Disease. Hung out with some friends. (Also, a lot of NDA shit that I can’t talk about.)

ART-SCHOOL DROPOUT

From 2021 to 2022, I was attending a prestigious and overly-expensive art school for their (brand new!) game design program. When I first graduated from high school, this college was my dream choice, and coming off the success of my early game dev career, it seemed like a perfect opportunity to polish my skills while I kept working on the side. My first commercial game was still in development, but we were feeling comfortable, and I felt like getting greedy.

Pride before the fall. Full Icarus mode. You know how it goes.

The school itself was…alright. Satellite campus, mid-pandemic, hybrid learning. Close enough to commute comfortably, classes just long enough for masks to not give me a headache, and the handful of remote courses helped keep my medical problems at bay. Problems that the school was a little unequipped to help with, though the disability office did their best. I had to drop a class because my body, at the time, couldn’t handle eight hours of classes without some Crazy Side Effects. 

(Keep in mind that every class was, minimum, four hours. And I had to take at least five a semester. Each class also saw me make an entire game from scratch. My body was already at its limit.)

If you knew me in high school, you’re probably waiting for the shoe to drop: I was, famously, the worst at academics. Never did homework, rarely finished projects, slept through first period at least once a week. Surprise, though: I was fucking great at this. My GPA doubled. Turns out that going to school for a discipline you already have a career in, and are kinda obsessed with, kinda does wonders for you. Unfortunately, I picked the worst time to care about school, since my commercial game’s release was the same exact night that my five school games were due.

TL;DR, I didn’t sleep for a week, almost fucked both up, and got burnout so bad that I couldn’t do anything for a calendar year. So I dropped out! Now, about a year of job hunting later (the game’s industry is imploding right now, and the only studios that considered me were… questionable, to say the least), the expensive art school wants me back. So badly. Turns out the whole school is so broke and understaffed right now that they’re basically chomping at the bit for that tuition money. Got a week to decide. Jury’s still out.

VALIDATE POST-MORTEM

So, if you couldn’t tell from the above section, we released a game in 2022!  I was supposed to write a post-mortem for it, but… burnout from the above, combined with general “post-release depression,” and I didn’t feel like touching it. 

Part of me still doesn’t! 

Yet I kinda think the feeling of me not wanting to talk about ValiDate is still worth discussing, so here we go:

For those of you that aren’t aware, I was a head dev on ValiDate, a dating sim that released in 2022. Volume 1 (of 3) did, anyway.

Did a lot of music, did a lot of writing, created some characters people really care about, created some characters people really want to fuck, made a couple Tweets that my boss hated, got accused of being reverse racist a few times. It was truly one of the most exciting and rewarding experiences of my life. And, yes, we’re still working on Vol. 2 behind the scenes. 

That’s actually the reason why it’s kinda hard to talk about Vol. 1!

It was my first commercial game, my first publicly released game, and I think there’s always gonna be a… natural embarrassment toward your first “real” project. Combine that with my natural “if you stare at me for too long, I will kill myself” tendencies, and the game’s release was a special type of torture. It’s one thing to watch people play through a game that you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into, knowing full well that they might hate it (or just misunderstand it), but shit gets so much worse when you know that you could have done better. 

It’s a very special kind of psychological torture to have creative decisions you feel were mistakes, things you half-assed because of burnout or deadlines, or things you did wrong because you just didn’t know any better! The embarrassment was overwhelming, so I just… dipped for a while. Didn’t watch gameplay or read reviews, didn’t do much of anything.

Took me a while to realize that me being embarrassed about the project isn’t because ValiDate was bad or anything. I was embarrassed because it was an incredible learning opportunity for me. The amount that I picked up on game design, community management, leadership, marketing, pitching, porting, etc. in two years is more than any school could teach you in four. Volume 1 was a game made by amateurs, still wet behind the ears, trying to build something from grassroots. 

But Volume 2 is a game-ass game. 

And having done all the work we have on Vol. 2 (which, while I can’t talk about it publicly, is a lot!), looking back at our first release feels like… revisiting your awkward middle school photos. Sometimes it’s hard to not feel contempt for who you were when your biggest struggle was becoming, but learning to choke down that shame? It taught me to feel grateful for the you of yesterday, who clawed their way through uncertainty so that you, today, can stand on sturdier ground. Growing up is embarrassing, and it turns out you keep doing it well into your twenties! Sucks. 

For the past few days, Dani and I have been watching a Twitch streamer play through Volume 1. We’ve been so deep in planning for the future that we figured, hey, may as well revisit the past. Detached from all that embarrassment of becoming, I gotta admit: we made a fun little dating sim. People like it. Hell, I like it. Sure, I know all of its flaws and shortcuts, and I have my fair share of critiques… but fact of the matter is, if I have a problem with something, I can just fix it. 

Admittedly, In the past, that attitude of mine has actually been more of a problem than a solution. “I can fix this myself!” is all fine and good when you’re a solo dev trying to throw something together, but it turns out taking on excess responsibility in a collaborative setting is a way to make shit suck for you and your team. During the Kickstarter demo era, I was literally on every team besides art. Writing, programming, music, I got my fingers in all those pies. It was fun to me, and more importantly, it was sustainable. 

Until it wasn’t.

Volume 1 coinciding with my tenure at [art school], using a (finicky and, frankly, shitty) new game engine, being much larger in scope, introducing minigames (which, surprise, I was team lead on)... I pretty much killed myself trying to get it all done. Honestly, I blame half of our day-one bugfixes on me specifically. Every single one of them was an oversight made because I was pulling the classic “I’m unmedicated so crunching is the only way I can feel alive” type shit. 

Except for the OST. That one sucked because art school sucks all the joy out of creating.

Happy to say that our workflow for Volume 2 has been much more sustainable for me, even if I’ve officially broken my “no art” rule for it. Yeah, turns out I’m finally making use of that animation major. Sucks.

Self reflection over. Except for one last note:

If you’ve followed ValiDate, played our demo, donated to the Kickstarter, replied to our Tweets, played our second demo, bought our game, or just talked about us to a friend… I am so, so grateful. Beyond what words could possibly describe. It’s been my dream for as long as I can remember become a game developer, and I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you guys. Vd8 wasn’t what I expected the cornerstone of my career to be, but honestly? I couldn’t have asked for a better one. We have Vriska in our game. How many people can possibly say that?

And to those of you still waiting for Volume 2:

You haven’t seen anything yet.

GAYMING AWARDS

Speaking of ValiDate… Did you hear we were nominated for some Gayming Awards last year? We were! 

Three other head Vd8 devs (Dani: Production, Alexis: Art, Cam: Code) flew out to beautiful New York City for the award show last March, which was actually our first time actually meeting up IRL. Really funny how I’ve known Dani since I was fifteen, but here we were, a decade later, finally meeting face to face. She’s so much taller in person. I’m still taller, but barely.

Meeting up with internet friends is one thing (and more on that later!), but meeting up with internet coworkers? It’s interesting. This was the first moment that ValiDate felt “real,” seeing as it was suddenly important enough to give us comp’d flights and a hotel room, but more than that: the people I’ve been working with for years exist? We’re all hanging out together? We’re wandering through Manhattan all day? We’re eating the most disgusting food at Junior’s in Times Square? We’re trying to figure out what this mystery liquid is? How much did this food cost again? (Seriously, my onion rings were 90% dough and 10% onion.)

While I won’t bore you with the minutiae—I think my friends would prefer the privacy anyway—the entire trip to NYC was fun, exhausting, and a dream-come-true.

Except for that goddamn award show. Jesus CHRIST, what a trainwreck.

No, I’m not saying that just because we lost. We did lose, though. (Personally, I was fine with it, but I also had to travel the least distance to get there. So…) I’m saying that because the entire Gayming Awards industrial complex was, uh, kinda busted this year?

So imagine, you’re us: bunch of twenty-somethings on your Sex and the City shit. Big award show tonight, formal attire. We’re talking high heels, long dresses, full suits, the whole nine yards. Now what do you do in Manhattan? Walk. Sure, we weren’t walking in formal attire the entire time, but it was still a good five blocks to the award center where—wait, what do you mean they relocated the ceremony? The hall they rented is closed for mysterious reasons? Where the hell are we doing the award show?

If you answered “the drag bar where the afterparty was supposed to take place,” congrats, here’s $20. Way further away from our hotel, which meant more walking, and also a way smaller venue with a lot less… formality, let’s say. But we’re young gay people, we don’t care about formalities, who gives a shit! As long as it can seat all of us, then—oh there’s no seating. Ohhhh. Oh! Okay.

I’ll admit, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. There were a handful of couches, VIPs only. Realizing quickly that, oh shit, we’re VIPs, we managed to snag some front-seat couches before any of the pesky old people could. (We’re young! We deserve to sit! You’ve had your entire lives to sit, established games industry people! Let the new generation have a turn!) Unfortunately, when I got up to cash in my free-drink voucher, my seat was stolen by some white lady. 

So I sat on the floor.

March 2023. You, sitting at home, have decided to tune into the Gayming Awards “live” on Twitch, curious to see what Britain’s premiere gayming magazine had to say about, uh, esports. 

This is important to you. 

Fortunately, this year you’re watching a decently shot and scripted award show filmed in a (noticeably claustrophobic) little bar, complete with charming presenters (many of whom are local drag queens) and a myriad of corporate sponsors. You can hardly tell that the entire show was uprooted and moved hours prior!

Yet, for some reason, whenever the cameras cut to the audience… There’s some large man, right in front of the crowd, slumped down on the floor as if he’s bleeding out. With every award given, his clapping grows weaker. The more the camera cuts to him, the more life drains from his body, as if his existence itself is anathema to “gayming.”

Imagine, for a moment, that this man is nominated for an award. 

Imagine that he, after a lifetime of potassium deficiency, has been teetering on the edge of a Charlie Horse Reckoning for hours.

Imagine that the microsecond that his game’s name is called as a nominee, the Reckoning begins. 

Now imagine a world where he wins that award. 

A world where he is forced to stand—from his corpse’s rightful place on the ground!—in front of his peers and superiors, pretending as if he’s not afflicted with a life-ending muscle cramp.

So, yeah. I was pretty fine with losing.

Later, we ditched the “afterparty” to drink at Applebees. (Turns out “green tea shots” don’t have any green tea in ‘em?)

EULOGY FOR THE GOLDEN GIRLS TAKE MANHATTAN DX

Big announcement! I was a team lead on The Golden Girls Take Manhattan DX, a certified Tumblr Gold™ fan-project (by the immortal Grawly) about the eponymous Gold Girls in a Persona-esque parody game! 

Slightly bigger announcement! The game got cancelled. Sorry.

Feels a little weird talking about this, since the year-ish I spent working on the game passed in the blink of an eye, and I’m not going to lie and say that I was an instrumental piece of the team or whatever. I was lucky enough to lead a very talented team, and to play with some very fun devtools, but the game was definitely more important to me than I was to it. (Grawly, if by some off-chance you’re reading this, please click off now. You can peek back in at the Jaw Explosion Disease subheader. I promise I’m very nice and respectful.)

I was in high school when I was first made aware of TGGTMDX. My friend group was very into Persona (in the pre-P5 days), and one of our favorite video subgenres was “videogame UI on top of sitcom scenes.” It didn’t take us long to stumble onto early-build footage of TGGTMDX on Tumblr, and what spawned was a years-long fascination. I’d even consider it one of my many… game dev awakenings? The idea that the only thing stopping me from making “American Persona”—one of my many white whales—was commitment to the bit. Just one of the many things that fueled my teenaged suicidal overconfidence.

Speaking of suicidal overconfidence, about a decade later, I was invited to work on the game! Coming fresh off ValiDate, I was desperate for a chance to make a real portfolio piece (visual novels, while popular, will never get you a job), and this sort of opportunity only presents itself once in a lifetime. Fulfilling a teenage dream while furthering your career? What could possibly go wrong!

That makes it seem like there was some explosive drama behind the scenes that ruined everything. Sorry to say that most game cancellations aren’t that exciting, and that this game’s death was by a thousand microscopic cuts. Most of which are not my place to talk about: this game wasn’t my baby, and cancelling it wasn’t my choice to make! Many people worked on this for much, much longer than I even knew how to code, and they deserve to have their feelings prioritized. Whenever that post mortem gets published, I’ll be the first to reblog it, trust me. 

Instead, I’d prefer to talk a little about this as being my first real “loss” as a game dev. Certainly not my first project to go under, and I’ve had my fair share of shelved prototypes, but something about this cancellation was… different. Working on your dream project is all fun and games until you feel partially responsible for it dying, y’know? It felt Sisyphean at a point, like trying to dig a hole in the sand with a pitchfork. I would work at the game, and work at the game, but nothing I did felt like it made a dent. 

Part of me knew I wasn’t giving it my all, between the school-based burnout (above), jaw explosion disease (below), and ValiDate (omnipresent), it’s not like I could’ve afforded to put more of myself into it. Besides, I was literally a team lead, half my job was telling other people what to do. But the spectre of “you’re not doing enough” was hard to shake. Even when all these other responsibilities ebbed and I could afford to give this game my all, the difference felt minimal. 

We spend a lot of time pitying Sisyphus for having to push that boulder uphill over and over, but none of us ask ourselves “could we even move that big fucking rock in the first place?” Apparently, I couldn’t.

I wasn’t the only one that felt that way, it turned out. In fact, pretty much all the friends I made on the project felt the same. If there’s any “real” reason why the project got cancelled, it’s that. No big falling out, Disney didn’t give us a cease and desist, no secret rebrand going on in the background. Just a bunch of lads getting sick of pushing a boulder. Hell, Grawly’s been doing it for a decade. Let him rest.

Not too much rest, though: we’re already working on a different game together (Date Knight: check it out if you haven’t!), and some of us ex-Golden Girls devs have some ideas for what else we can cook up. 

For money, this time.

JAW EXPLOSION DISEASE

Probably the biggest “development” of 2023 was my sudden horrible nerve pain in July, which started as a sinus infection on the left side of my face, and soon became a horrific jaw pain. Long after my sinus infection healed, the jaw pain remained, which is a pretty bad hand to draw when a considerable portion of your day is spent “talking,” or “eating.” So, for the back half of 2023, I didn’t do much of either.

Instead, I had to take a considerable amount of ibuprofen, visit one doctor, three dentists, two hospitals, and four oral surgeons to figure out what the hell is wrong with me. The dentists discovered an exposed nerve, caused by wisdom tooth removal complications (sick!), the oral surgeons went “okay, we can fix that,” got me all numbed up. But it turns out that my left jaw is immune to local anesthesia! Thinking this was an infection, they kept putting me on antibiotics over and over in the hopes that it’d suddenly work. Took a note from my childhood dentist explaining that, “no, he’s always been like this” to find a surgeon willing to put me all the way under. (And then, the first time they tried, I woke up in the middle anyway! I got a full refund on the copay, at least.) 

Ultimately, I found a very nice surgeon in December that treated me same-day, and did it perfectly, but the damage to my liver from all that ibuprofen was… bad. But it turns out that livers just… regenerate naturally? So, give it a few months, I’ll be at 100%. Hopefully.

OOMFCON

Hilariously, six months after we met up for the Gayming Awards, Dani and Alexis found their way back to NYC for a little combination meet-up/vacation we affectionately titled “Oomfcon 2023.” This time, with bonus friends! Our entire friend server, whose name I’ve been advised not to post publicly, had rented an AirBnB for anyone willing to drop everything and go to Brooklyn. 

It took about a year of planning (mostly by Alexis) to get us all out there, but Jesus Christ, it actually worked.

Admittedly I’m a bit hesitant to talk at length about “taking a vacation”—even though I’m already… from here?—but it really was the highlight of my year. First for actually happening, when most friend groups I’ve had would have written the idea off as a pipedream, but mostly for being a really good time. A lot of walking, a lot of talking, a lot of drinking, a lot of dining. (This was during Jaw Explosion Disease, so you can imagine how my body took most of that.)

To Dani, Alexis, Miles, Haven, Grim, Xtine, and Ty: thanks for coming up here! The city is a lot more boring without you guys in it. I promise to have less health issues when we do this again!

And to everyone else outside the groupchat that I met and bored with my job hunt stories: Nice meeting you guys! Sorry that fate decided every single one of you is forced to keep in touch with me. (And I didn’t even get the shitty corporate job!)

[wanzerous]

𝘀𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲, 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲.

so i was posting this elsewhere, but i want to bring it here! i don't know if it's worth keeping, but i'm happy to share the content here! this takes place in the tokyo revengers world, starting from the very beginning (fem!reader). long story short . . .

loss. you always lose something. people have a habit of losing things . . . their phones, their keys, their wallets. some, their sense of humanity, or a loved one. things began to spiral the moment you lost your father due to gang violence. since then, you were not big of gangs. to you, they were all horrible.

however . . . there a specific gang that made you question your feelings. the tokyo manji gang worked their way into your life and you weren't sure if this was a blessing or a curse . . .

would you lose them, or would they inevitably lose you?

𐙚⋆.˚ PROLOGUE.

maybe the world wasn't such a cruel place.

" you silly girl, " a rough laugh echoed through the living room of a simplistic house. the walls were white but decorated with minimal paintings. there was a soft melody in the background; a radio that played gentle jazz music. the house smelt of freshly baked ham and homemade cherry pie. 

" come dance with me! " a male spoke, and a whiff of cedarwood came to your senses. this man wore fine threads; a clean button-down with a slightly loosened red tie. he wore tan-colored pants, with a brown leather belt to hold himself up. his hands were large and properly cared for; nails cut and polished carefully. to add to his wide hands, he wore an expensive watch.

these hands reached forward to grab a hold of an equally excited young girl; the prettiest young lady in japan. well, that's what her father told her, anyway. she had bright eyes and the prettiest smile. her hair was nothing but soft, and it was groomed nicely. small hands reached upward, and tiny fingers gripped onto the hands of the older man. she was swayed to the gentle music on her feet at first before she was lifted and spun in the air. 

the moment was perfect. the family was happy. 

" honey! don't spin her so much or else she'll get dizzy! " a woman called out; voice almost like silk. she placed the ham platter on the table, and wiped her hands on her apron, before placing them on her hips. though she was too, dressed lovely, it wasn't as nice as the father. a simple skirt that reached her ankles; an olive green color, and a tan top that rested off the shoulders. 

she wore her hair tied back into a messy bun, showing off her diamond earrings. 

" aww maiko dearest, " the male chuckled, placing the young girl on his hip, " if you want to dance, just join us. " he teased her, reaching out to grab her hand. this hand, being her left, showed a ring. happily married. " don't be shy. you're always light on your feet. "

he pulled her close, his hand on her waist as she playfully whined, resting one hand on his broad shoulder, and the other on the back of you, " we shouldn't be long, " the woman smiled softly, " or else dinner will get cold. " and together, they finished the song as one. a family. 

little did they know this would be their last dance as one. 

their last moments together as a family. 

there was a ruckus hours later. screaming. crying, and it startled the young girl from her peaceful sleep. with a full belly, she waddled toward her door and opened it, peeking outside where she found her parents.

her father stood in front of her mother defensively, yelling at a few men. a few scary ones; that matched from head to toe. the atmosphere grew heavy, and you were a smart girl. their body language made your heart thump, and the anger within your father's words made the hairs on your arms stand upright.

" your business is with me, not my family! get out of my home, and we can talk about this elsewhere!  " your father yelled at them, aggressively pointing at the door, " get the hell out! " it wasn't like your father to yell. he was always a nice man. respectful, a gentleman. you've never seen him so angry. 

your emotions began to surface, and you pulled your bedroom door open nervously, tears forming in your eyes, " mommy , " you called out softly, in which eyes fell onto you. those scary men eyed you down; your mother rushed over to your side.

" don't look at my child! " your father spat, moving to stand in their gaze. he shielded you from them, and you were lifted, " stay in your room, sweetheart.. " your mother whispered as calmly as she could. but her hands and voice shook, and she looked over at the man she cared for. she took a slightly nervous breath before she quickly snuck off to the side, fingers tracing the phone that hung onto the wall. 

with the little bit of courage she had, she dialed the emergency number and placed it against her ear, all while taking multiple nervous glances back in that direction. " h-hello? " she called to the speaker on the phone, " there's - " the yelling increased in volume, and steps grew heavy. things began to knock off of surfaces and crash onto the ground. " sugita ..! " your mother called, the men throwing forceful fists at one another.

sugita, your father, wasn't weak though. with these men obviously ganging up on him, he stood his ground the best he could. his strength was unmatched, and while fighting, he still managed to give you and your mother the attention needed, " go! " he shouted indirectly before he was caught in the face. 

" i-i can't just leave you ! " maiko cried, holding you close. you saw everything. you felt, everything. and you wailed in your mother's arms. " i'll be fine! " he yelled sternly, and your mother took his order to heart. she rushed to the back, in their room, and went to grab a small bag that was in the corner. you didn't have time to question it. a black bag. the tussling stopped for a moment; a split second and heavy grunts and pants came from the room.

" SHIT! THAT BITCH CALLED THE COPS! "

the men panted, and maiko took a deep breath, " it's going to be okay. " she whispered, looking over her shoulder toward the closed door, " hide in the closet for the moment, okay? " she placed you by the closet door and slid it open, " go, i'll  be back! " she placed the suitcase inside beside the wall, and rushed out. she didn't give you time to call out to her. don't leave me.

the closet was dark. and you could hear muffled noises, and then a panicked cry came from the room. you sniffled, blending in with the clothes easily until you heard your mother.

" SUGITA ! IT'S GOING TO BE OKAY! "

she sobbed, voice cracking as the sirens blared. your fight or flight activated.

you opened the closet door and left the bedroom, rushing down the hall to take sight of the mess. broken glass scattered around their living room; muddy footsteps near the front door. there was blood ... so much blood. 

and there was your dad, holding on for his life. his pajama shirt was torn, and a deep stab wound in his chest. your mother sat beside him, holding him close as he panted, " please don't just stand there! help him! " your mother cried. " he's going to die! please! " 

daddy was going to die. 

you weren't going to see him anymore. 

pretty eyes laid on your father, and though you couldn't see his expression, you knew it wasn't good. he weakly held onto the hand of your mother, whispering softly. you couldn't make out what he said, but you heard the bass of his voice. " i love you too ... " your mother sobbed, " but it's going to be okay! don't talk to me like that! " 

a few moments later, the paramedics rushed through the door with a gurney equipped, " ma'am, please stand back! " one of them announced and she, once they had a hold of him, moved out the way. her legs covered in blood, and the tips of her nightgown as well. 

she placed her hands over her mouth as she tried to suppress her cries. she glanced back, where she saw you; completely traumatized. " ( y/n ) ! " she called out, her voice hoarse as the two of you locked eyes for one second. 

just one , and your vision grew blurry. 

what was blurry turned black, and things fell silent.

maybe the world wasn't such a cruel place.

. 　　            ⊹ ✦ 　 ✵ 　　　　　* 1312 words.

sunshine, rainshine, and moonshine. chapter one [here].

[aggold15hi01]

Late night writing post-Logan x Kaia headcanons-Part 1

Don't mind about this project, I wanted to do this at work but work had been making me feeling f***ed up along with the long journey from work to home and vice versa plus waking up very early in the morning at around five a.m in the morning thus this is something I wanted to do it for a very long time; everyone.

Anyway, consider this post is the first and official post of Logan x Kaia writing as we get to know them better. 😊

Also, for those of you who are wondering who is Kaia's face claim; it is the Wubble version of Allisha Gray back before she changes her hair with the pair of goggles are being converted into her pair of permanent glasses where she wore them for a very long time in her life starting from her time when she started her freshman year in the University of Hawaii at Manoa which is her own idea as she did wanted to wear a pair of glasses which Allisha Gray started wearing it from the pandemic year.

For the writing of their headcanons, it is inserted below and I will be cross posting to my personal blog.

-Kaia does truly loves giving Logan a manicure and pedicure whenever they are at home in her (Or rather: their) apartment in the island of Oahu, Hawaii.

-Kaia has a collection of nail polish, books: magazines; music CDs, *Funko Pop Figures, My Scene and Barbie Dolls plus DVDs of her favorite movies she enjoys watching them either from her home or from her nail salon since he (Logan) suggested **she gets a TV for her nail salon just in case if people wanted to watch a movie at her nail salon.

~Kaia and Logan loves acai bowl whenever they are in Hawaii and they would always go for the acai bowl from the Sunshine Shack restaurant but they also loved and enjoyed the acai bowls from Haleiwa Bowls whenever they both travelled up north to the area of Haleiwa in addition to the Nalu Cafe Acai bowl where they can simply walk across from her nail salon to the Nalu Cafe where they would always acai bowl for either breakfast or brunch if they both arrived late to the nail salon by an urgent client with an emergency appointment.

~When she first met Coco who is Logan's dog; he would always let her keep Kaia accompany as he gets concerned about how Kaia would cope with the waves of loneliness she had to truly experienced it in her very own life while having to truly live in the island of Hawaii.

~Logan also helps her with the assisting job on the meal runs followed by collecting any of the parcels she needs to collect them on extra nail equipments; nail polishes to be stocked up and also extra items to be added into a collection.

-Kaia does truthfully hated sharks but told him the reef sharks she had experienced it before whenever she either goes cage diving with sharks in Haleiwa (A very seldom activity she normally does in Haleiwa) or scuba diving out in the waters of the Pacific Ocean surrounding the islands of Hawaii didn't give her much of a scare in the comparison of the great white sharks and the more common tiger sharks which although she seen them a few time whenever she gets a full on seldom day off from doing her own business by having to go scuba diving whenever she has the proper time to do it.

-Speaking of scuba diving, one of Kaia's favorite activity is scuba diving apart from surfing; swimming plus deep sea fishing with her dad whenever he gets the time apart from gardening which she usually enjoys it with her dad; reading; watching her favorite comfort movies, doing art on sketching; coloring in the adult coloring books and doing acrylic paintings of any different art subjects she wanted to do it whenever she gets the time in addition to spending her time at a cafe and journaling on her daily life whenever she can along the way on a day when she gets the time to be away from her nail salon.

-One of her least favorite part is the financial part where she had to truly hire a proper and an equally true financial team where they can help her with the financial team as it does truly makes her feeling so overwhelmed that she felt as if she is learning the hardest part of the business side.

~Speaking of teams; she also too hired a team of nail artists whom she met them during her time in beauty school or perhaps they asked her if they are interested in checking their portfolios of their nail arts in addition to helping her out with the nail salon by adding more nail artists whom nowadays people normally would either discovered them online or perhaps from another nail salon where they would spoke to them about how the nail salons in Hawaii might need a booster from the clients too in order to do both on their part by having to contribute by giving them their support in addition to letting people know where to go to the best indie nail salons whenever anyone or anybody needs to get their manicure and pedicure treatment.

[remrse]

hey, hey! cal here with what i'd like to call the less boring version of nate archibald — seo jaerim, also known as the golden boy who falls in love way too easily (but is it really love?) because he needs to fill this void in his life. he's also the moneybags skeleton in the gossipgate subplot. he's very much still a work in progress but i'd love to plot with y'all and come up with some fun stuff! i currently only have his dossier up but everything you need to know about him is under the cut. like this post and i'll come sliding into your ims, i'm also available on discord if that's what you prefer!

(trigger warnings: teenage pregnancy, coercion into abortion)

message: saw seo jaerim in seoul. they were volunteering at a children’s charity organisation. i think they’re a/n museum curator now? a lot of people say they’re kinda apathetic but they seemed super generous to me, tbh. they really look like nam joohyuk and remind me of nate archibald though wtf. thought you might want to know because i remember your post about them that said when he was in high school, he had gotten someone pregnant and coerced her into an abortion. still can’t believe that happened 8 years ago.

ask him why he’s a museum curator and he’ll tell you it’s because he has an eye for pretty things. paintings. women. art. that, and he’s the only heir to seoda museum of contemporary art—the louvre of seoul. seo jaerim was born with a silver spoon in one hand and a paint brush in the other. in his world of art, human beings are merely subjects of artworks; characters of his story. does he really love you or are you just pretty enough to look at, like the artworks displayed in his museum? set to inherit his family’s museum business, he has been working as a museum curator since he graduated snu with a degree in fine arts. everything in life is laid out for him, yet there’s a void impossible to fill; a loneliness in the shape of a monster that doesn’t die. does it stem from a long time guilt of destroying his very first creation before the world got to see it, or the constant chase for love and comfort in a world so brutal? some call him a playboy, but others say he’s too tender to be one.

summary:

only child and heir to his family's museum (think of it as the louvre of seoul; only the most prestigious and renown artistes can showcase their work there)

his family is very influential, especially in the arts, every other relative is an artist, curator, collector of some sort

every child born in the seo family would be sent for art classes, it is as important as learning the korean language

his family is very image-focused, often portraying themselves to be polished and sophisticated, people with refined tastes

they also think they are superior to others because they are "cultured" on top of their wealth

there were always only two pathways for him: to be an artist or to take over the family's business (it was always a career in the arts or risk being the black sheep of the family)

he had been painting since he was a child but figured he prefers the power of deciding who was good enough to earn a place in his museum, to have people cowering before him to exhibit their work at his museum

also he kind of just stopped painting after the whole abortion thing, because everything he created then was just a reminder of all the guilt and regret he had (might be the real reason he switched over to art curation)

he graduated from snu with a degree in fine arts

before that, he was from a private boys' high school near gyeonggi girls' high school

that is also how he got acquainted with the og's from the gossipgate video

the video did not affect him very much, or at all (his family paid off media outlets to keep his name out of the gossipgate news so while you could kind of make him out in the video, there is no real confirmation of him being in it)

what had a greater impact on him was gossip girls' post about him getting someone pregnant and coercing her into an abortion (his family were also the ones that had insisted on the abortion) — it's something that still weighs heavily on him till this day (i've left a lot of details undecided in hopes of someone taking on this connection!)

he never had issues with college acceptances because his family name guarantees him a spot in any art program (probably also due to nepotism because he has relatives who are art professors)

he has been volunteering at children's charity organisations but no one knows if it's his way of fixing his reputation or if he's doing it because he feels a sense of guilt towards his unborn child, or what could've been

he is really good with kids though (could be why women love him)

does not mean to be one but could be a little bit of a playboy, only because he has no fucking clue what love looks like so he's on a constant search for it

but is so sweet and gentle you gaslight yourself into thinking he isn't one

honestly really empty on the inside; desperately looking for that something that would light up his world, whatever it is

wanted connections:

gossipgate people! i'm here for rich kids fucking up each other's lives

lots and lots of exes: ex-girlfriends, ex-flings, ex-crushes, ex-almosts, whatever (basically, nate archibald's dating history)

an ex he had just broken up with would be fun too

fresh/new, ongoing love interests

the girl from his gossip girl post 8 years ago; the one he had gotten pregnant and coerced into abortion (i'm open to any interpretation of this — they could be ex-lovers, friends that hooked up, nothing is set in stone!)

someone who volunteers or has volunteered at one of the children's charity organisations he volunteers at

artists who has or wants to have their art displayed at his museum (he will not make it easy for you though)

the person that leaked his abortion secret to gossip girl

unexpected/unlikely friends (an opposites dynamic maybe?)

neighbours (he's currently staying alone in his bachelor's pad but i imagine it to be at some fancy apartment)

some sibling figures? he'd probably appreciate it, being the only child at home

[purplesurveys]

1705

This time last year, what was happening in your life? Life was a little uneventful at the time. But if anything, I had a completely different set of clients – a more stressful roster at that, so in hindsight I’m glad that part of my life is over. It had also only been a month from Kimi’s passing so my mental health had been more tumultous; it was also the time I was coming to terms with the fact that I might be experiencing another bout of depression, so I would go out every weekend and have some quiet time to myself at coffee shops or at my favorite comfort places, like my university.

Did you/will you have coffee or some other form of caffeine today? I already have a mug of coffee next to me.

Who did you last have a text conversation with and what was it about? Just quick exchanges for work.

Are there regular trains in and out of your town/city? Yes.

Do you bathe your pets regularly? Just once every few months.

Do you have a mailbox or do you collect your mail from the post office? We have mail and packages sent directly to our house, but we don’t have a mailbox - not really common here. Instead, envelopes are squeezed into our door; then for larger packages, riders would directly ring the doorbell so we can receive them.

What was the last animal you saw, and was it a pet? Our two dogs. Yes, pets.

Have you ever had an ear infection? Kind of? It didn’t happen inside my ear, but on my earlobe. I got a nasty infection from my piercing (which I never took off since getting pierced as a baby) and the only way around it was to stop wearing earrings altogether. To this day I haven’t worn earrings since and stick with clip-ons.

If you could watch any TV series right now, what would it be? I’d love to get started on Ted Lasso. And get my ass back on Better Call Saul.

Would you have any clue when your best friend last got their hair cut? No idea...must be a few months ago.

Someone messages you just as you’re about to go to sleep. Do you reply? Depends on the person and the nature of their message. The only person I’d make an exception for is probably Angela, or my dad.

Do you grind your teeth, and if so, why do you do it? I don’t do it in my sleep if this is what you mean. My sister does and very aggressively, so to be honest I try not to fall asleep in the same room as her. The sound is very...it drives me mad, lol.

Have you ever been hospitalized due to dehydration? I haven’t been hospitalized but I’ve definitely fainted from it.

Is there anything you need to remember to do before the day ends? I technically have more work to do beyond the shit I already did yesterday, but I’m on the fence about doing it or just leaving it off for tomorrow. I already worked on a Saturday...the thought of working on a Sunday too is just raising my stress level through the roof lol. I WANT TO HAVE A WEEKEND TOO.

When you listen to music with headphones, do you keep the volume low enough to hear surrounding noise faintly, or do you blast it? Well, it depends where I am and how quiet it is. The sound seeps out-ish from my headphones if the volume is too loud, so I’ll only have it on max volume if I’m somewhere the sound can be drowned out, like in the office or at a busy coffee shop. But if I’m in a Grab where it’s just me and the driver, I’d tone it down.

What’s your favorite online radio site? Idk if it counts but I’ll occasionally use Stationhead to help boost song streams.

Do your parents have any authority over who you date? As much as possible, I wouldn’t let them. At the end of the day it’s my decision and even if I turned out wrong and stupid, it shouldn’t be their problem to fix because the only way it should be is a lesson for me to learn from.

How many different shades of nail polish do you have? Zero. I never apply nail polish because 100% I’ll have the urge to chip it off.

What did you have for breakfast this morning? I had a scrambled egg sandwich.

Are you lucky enough to have an ice maker in your refrigerator door? We don’t have one, but I don’t feel unlucky about it either lmao.

Are you the type to wake up before the sun has even risen? Not at all. As someone who works a 9-6, I value my sleep and would hate to be up earlier than the sun. 

Have you ever watched an anime series, start to finish? Nah. I’m not into anime.

Do you feel the need to rant about anything right now? If so, go for it. I’m desperate for 4-day work weeks to be a thing. I’ll experience it occasionally due to public holidays, and it’s truly fascinating to feel the difference between a 4-day work week and 5-day work week (even if they differ by only a day!). I tend to feel incredibly recharged with the former, while the latter brutally exhausts me beyond words. Anyway, it’s Sunday evening now and I’m dreading to start the cycle all over again, and I just can’t wait to reach Friday.

Do you have a favorite towel? What color is it? I don’t have a favorite towel. They all do the same thing.

Have you seen any films with Judy Garland in them?: I actually haven’t. Most of her well-known films are musicals which I’m not really into, so that’s a big reason why I haven’t checked her works out.

How did you feel when you woke up today? Why? Rattled. I woke up at around 9:20 AM today when we usually leave at around 9:45 to attend mass, so I had to prepare at 2x speed haha.

Who was the last person you messaged on Facebook? My group chat with Angela and Reena.

When was the last time you saw them? A month ago when we landed back from Bangkok.

Do you have a friend named Nick? What’s his favourite food? No, I don’t have a friend named Nick.

What are you listening to? I have a BTS vlog playing in the background. I usually have a string of these playing on Sunday nights; it helps calm my nerves before the week starts.

What year are you/did you graduate? I graduated high school in 2016, then college in 2020.

Are you obsessed with anything? BTS.

Do you prefer waffles or pancakes? Waffles.

Do you prefer non-diet or diet soda? No soda.

Do you like seafood? It’s the best thing in the world.

Are you craving anything right now? I’d love a cheeseburger from McDonald’s, but I’ll live.

Do you dress appropriately for your age? Uh, I guess. What exactly constitutes an appropriate outfit when you’re 25 years old anyway? Hahaha.

If McDonald’s sold hot dogs, would you buy them? No.

How long is your hair? It’s a bit past my shoulders, but not long enough that it reaches my waist.

Do you like your neighbors? They’re fine and don’t make a fuss and aren’t Karens. That’s all I’d ask for.

What’s your school motto? Honor and excellence.

Has a bird ever flown into your window? Nope.

Which word did you say first, mama or dada? No idea what my first word was and I don’t think my parents monitored it too.

How old were you when you learned to walk? I also have no clue. Thanks for the idea, I’ll go ahead and ask my parents this when I can :)

What was your first pet’s name? Goldy...because I had a goldfish...very creative...

How many kids were in your class in kindergarten? We were around 15 in Kinder 1. By the time I got to Kinder 2 and Prep, the classes grew to 30.

Who was your best friend in elementary? Angela.

Who was the best athlete in your freshman class? I won’t say their name anymore but it was someone from the basketball team. She wasn’t only good at the sport but was exceptionally tall too, so she definitely stood out.

What teacher did all the high school boys/girls have a crush on? I don’t think there was anyone we’d consider THE school crush. We had several male teachers and I observed that the students would just have little crushes depending on their own type.

Where do you see yourself in a year? I have no idea. I keep saying ‘maybe in a new job’ but it never fucking happens so I don’t wanna keep guessing anymore haha.

If you were able to change one thing about yourself, what would it be? I wish I was less uptight. Especially with work. Bea usually talks me down because I freak out over the smallest things that can be resolved easily if I just calm the fuck down and not see them as the end of the world.

Are you content just blending in with the crowd? For the most part, but I want to make some sort of impact too. I wouldn’t be okay with just going with the flow for the rest of my life.

[benefits1986]

Unlikely Friends: Matthew, Anhedonia & Sangria

When life's highs and lows look and feel the same, what's left of you, really?

I gave Friends so many good tries from then until now; however, I'd choose Big Bang reruns as my white noise anytime. You see, the whole cast looked too polished and that their jokes maybe spot on, but I can't seem to get why they had to look too skinny and too mainstream. This was back in grade school in local TV and up until now. So, let's be clear with that.

Of course, I don't say this out loud as much especially when I have close friends who swear by this series. To each their own. Besides, one of the guys I dated has a complete Friends Lego set and bona fide fan, so, ayun na nga. Hahahahaha.

Anyway, I was moved by the last post of Matthew Perry. I liked him a lot in The Whole Nine Yards which dad and I watched in our generic VCD player several times. Good copy pa! Those good old days. I have been interacting with a good number of Gen X the past years and I must say that this bunch may be having a tougher time than Gen MZ.

As a graphic example, when my ina died, my tita who's a menopausal babe, reached out to me several times. She wanted to understand why she has been feeling unexplainably sad even when she knew that we all fought a good fight for and with my ina. She even asked, is this what depression feels like? Ang gara pala. Ito na ba talaga 'yun or baka nalulungkot lang talaga ako.

I could have dropped bombs everywhere, but, in the name of choosing to be kinder, I took several deep and deeper breaths. While I lost my mom, every experience is unique. In the same plane that our DNA are only ours (for now), death of a loved one is universal and inescapable.

I told her that depression should be clinically diagnosed but there are telltale signs. I asked her to take a break instead of indulging in her busy schedule. I requested that she may reach out to close friends who've undergone the same route for moral support. She can't explain why she knows she is okay but something is off. She has been updating me ever since but I try my best to keep a safe distance.

So, Matthew is a Gen X. Had to look it up because '69 looks like a boomer and Paperback Writer by The Beatles landed no. 1 in Billboards in that year, June 25 to be exact.

What hits home hard is his story about how phenobarbital was given to him to tame his crazy cries. My brother also took these highly addictive drugs to cure his meningitis. I never thought that my brother had a mental situation growing up. All I saw was that he's a special case and he was spoiled to death. LOL. All I felt was that he was my cross to bear and I am but a Christmas elf who slaves of my fat ass all-year round. While I totally understood that he is a special case to infinity and beyond, somehow, I care for him in a unique way. He and I may have a love-hate-hate-love-hate-hate relationship, but I'm keeping my promise mom forced me literally before she breathed her last breath. Hahahahahaha. Shemay.

This book also tackles anhedonia, my TIL. Wow. As in. It has been a term that's been in existence since 1897 from Theodule Ribot. Damn. So, this is what I may be feeling for a long time. Sakto lang lahat. Kaya lahat. Matatawid lahat. However, there are glimmers amidst the triggers.

Truth is, one of the fuck ups of the depressive state is trying not to feel too happy. There's this feeling that being too happy will just bring me back to the rabbit hole once the euphoria dies. 'Yung alam naman ng rational self ko na happiness is but a feeling pero ayoko siyang i-embrace. Sakit. 'Yung masyadong tinatalinuhan ang arguments instead of just riding the waves of emotions and waiting for the other waves to come, because they will come naman. Circle of life baga.

Coming across anhedonia at this time in my life coupled with Gabor Mate, Brene Brown and my so-called slow growth szn, may I be able to choose to be happy, instead of being too RBF. Okay. Fine. Puwede namang RBF pero may emotions na rin, kahit onti. Speaking of not feeling anything, let me share why I love unli sangria. Eto na po. Siguro eto 'yung drink na very nostalgic.

I attended a wedding way back and I had liters of sangria because ansarap. Legit. Dun ko first time sinagad 'yung aking lakas because I don't drink irresponsibly. Hindi ako ganun. But that night, solid na solid. As in nagtanggal na ako ng high heels at naka slippers na lang ako. Hahaha. Buti, mababait kasama ko. Safe space. So ayun na nga. The feeling that unli sangria gave me was to feel high and the flat line as in super sarap ng tulog ko na parang wala na ako sa earth levels is just sooooo precious. As an overthinker, wine pacifies me. Nakakalma ako, in style pa kuno. Hahahahahahah. Saka it keeps me up as well. 'Yung may kick siya talaga as in. Poetic shitballs pa because the wine glass is just too sexy for me. Ewan ko ba. Hindi siya because of soshal or mainstream kasi I like drinking sangria alone best. Nakakarami po tayo like wtf. 'Pag may kasama kasi, social thing siya. May certain social grace kahit ubusan pa rin ng lakas at budget. Plus, ang mahal ng sangria ha! E ang dali lang naman gawain nun. :p And mura pa.

A reminder lang din na don't mix anhedonia and sangria unless gusto ko ng mapunta sa beyond ng infinity real quick. Very timely ito since I'm feeling that I'm authentically healing bit by bit na after 11 years of being stuck in the rabbit hole. It's still a daily struggle na mala-EDSA meets raining in Manila vibe. It's still a constant choice na hindi birong piliin at maraming back-sliding. It's still a leap of faith. It's still growing in my defunct system that's fortified with my trusted trust issues. LOL. But, things could be better and so could be the world, or the universe, rather.

While hearing his stories, Matthew is now my official unlikely Friend. I can't help but think that he might have this planned all along. Kung baga, his death made a stronger statement in a taboo kahit pa sabihing progressive tayong lahat. Thank you, Matthew for showing us your super flawed life and demise. May it remind us that while drinking and smoking are therapeutic, they don't numb the pain. I've shared this a good number of times, but lemme share it again and again. What's wore than being numb of pain? It's still feeling the pain even when you're numbed by alcohol, drugs, sex and all forms of addiction.

Glad to know my current org has an HMO for mental health. It also makes me feel good that we have 30 wellness leaves and in my team, there's a mental health advocate who happens to be a good friend, too. :) 'Di ba? The universe is finally aligning. Kaya hirap mag-yes sa ibang invites to be honest kahit super tempting. Sana talaga magkaroon ng forever work from anywhere set up. Sana.

I have yet to finish this 5-hour audio book, but, I'd like to write this out here and now.

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

9.15.23 Friday

4:55 am

Just got back from the floor of Iqor... Still, there are angles to point out, like why dread-locks guy is not texting me? It is a strange behaviour...

Brother Rodel became a stranger to us.... But we are still friends... But he is being distant, hmm.... It is so strange, people's behaviour changed in a snap of a finger...

Got good 3 opening calls... I had a good mood on that, thank God to Coach Gian for being nice.

And some bad callers an enders for me that I almost wanna give up... But I bounce back after lunch.

But still, my self-esteem is crashing coz of the weird bad callers... He is from the phone brand company that we are carrying an employee and client as well...

I still need to raise up my FCR angels... Some callers are weird and they have different accents. I had a hard time on the employee that is also a client... I can't get his point of expecting to get a credit that all of his 4 lines is suspended.

I feel fat,ugly,old and wrinkled... whew!

Tomorrow is our off... As well as the Dread-locks guy of wave 469...We had a qa talk awhile ago, the last 45 minutes of our working hours... Someone announced that 469 will be having their rest day as well as,the 468 our wave...

Can one angel ask dread-locks guy....Why he added me but not texting? Why, he asked for my messenger, then nah...Nothing... That's a sin, angels... Getting my messenger ID but not keeping in touch...

What's with the "baseball top" dread-locks guy? Where is the ball? Who is the batter? Who is the bat???

11:50 am

I have a sore throat weird... Some of the people in Iqor are also sneezing or having sore throat like Champi...

12:03 noon

Windblow windblow is still here angels...

2:09 pm

Hmm... It is so sad that mommy Linda passed away already, Dina told me 2 days ago and I wasn't able to post here coz I'm fucking tired and busy... I'm having stress on my FCR... Whew!

Mommy Linda was one of my elderlies that I took care of for 2 months... That is the sad part of being a caregiver. I wiped her butt and cleaned her vajayjay... She was nice in spite of the tantrums... But life is a big mystery and the world sometimes is full of lies...

This is Mommy Linda, last December angels...

She is the head leader of Avon here in Cavite...

Rest in Peace Mommy Linda, God is with you now...

Thanks for the memories,Mommy Linda...

This is her log-book...

I added these on her log book.

5:02 pm

Rest day will do my laundry tomorrow and I can't do house chores without gloves or I will really, really cry if I don't have gloves...

I just bought a gloves coz I feel self-pity coz still I'm not yet a regular employee and I truly feel ugly even my hands, I wanna have collagen someday...

My upbringing here since I was 13, before sleeping at night my Aunt Teresa who raised me here in my old childhood house, she taught me to wear my gloves and my hand cream... Most of my events my family always wanted me to wear a gloves... I find it strange...

So,lemme go back to Iqor issues:

The negative of Coach Gian in spite of his long patience... When the time yesterday that he coached me to polish me on the floor, it was ohkay for me to know my mistake... But I don't like Coach Gian when he said that he will call Jen ( one of our wavemates ) coz why he needs to call Jen in-front of me while coaching me. Who is Jen? To embarass me ? Jen is just a wavemate not my friend but in a way a wavemate but I don't know her that much... But helping one another in work is a professional thing.

About Supervisor Gian? ( this is a different Gian ). I know it was just a joke but telling me to give him a 150 just to waive my sup call it is kinda ouchie in my part... That I treated him with respect and I asked a favour to please guide me here in Iqor. Then, he will tell me that I should give him 150... But I just smiled...

If I have money it is ohkay ( I mean extra money), but I'm so tight these days...

Lemme go back to FCR or First Call Resolution:

My self-esteem is crashing most specially I remember this particular customer over the phone named Cristina Croeguert...She said that I received an email back June and I got suspended and who initiated it,that I don't know.

Then, I probe to achieve the FCR you need to ask and ask the customer and paraphrase for confirmation.

Then, I said Ms Cristina you received an email last June and you don't know why it happened that you got a suspension. Right?

Then,Ms Cristina said you don't get it... She said from the past couple of months I received a message an email that I was suspended and I don't know, who initiated it?

I said Yes Ms Cristina if I'm getting it correctly you said you received a mail that you were suspended and you don't know why it happened that you didn't do it... ( meaning this suspension is a double meaning either coz of bills or customer's request ).

Cases that I know I can manage in Iqor:

1. Receiving payment or make a payment. I used Atlas System.

2. Payment Arrangement. I used Atlas system as well here. So many zig-zags and cases of Payment Arrangement.

Payment Arrangement this can be 1 installment on schedule requested by customer or 2 installment requested by customer, 14 days interval if customer requested for 2 installment.

If the first payment arrangement was not successful due to insufficient balance or no fundings in the card, if it is 2 installment then a customer wanted to extend that failed first payment arrangement. Customer must wait for the first payment arrangement to be deleted in the system for 48 hours then that's time they can create an another payment arrangement.

If there is payment arrangement, it is 100% sure that the service will not be disconnected.

3 . Return a payment to the customer's card if it is acceptable card or case. If it is a double payment.

Here I always go to the customer's "checkbook" but I can't see the double payment... Then, I realized I have to search for "payment and look up" in Atlas.

Bounce Check- this is due to insufficient funds.

4. Checking the whole bill of customer's expenses monthly,their MRC ( monthly recurring bill ). But there is an additional if there is a usage on their voice call or any additional thing or plan upgrade then possible there will be "pro-rated".

5. Credit Adjustment. This for goodwill hahaha I need to review the Samson System tab tab grrr.But I handled 2 cases of credit adjustment...

6. Removing Feature. I have to memorize the Samson System tab tab. I handled this once.

7. Transfer Pin--If customer wanted to have their transfer pin and make a t-mobile id. Just guide them on the t-mobile website and find the C2 policy about transfer pin.

This job is not that easy coz of the weird callers, weird accents and weird deep within of your customer's... The FCR is the most difficult to get if the caller is having a bad intention of twisting or simply to damage the agent's reputation.

[asmuchasidliketo]

The link gets redirected to another post (functional website yay) so I took a screenshot

Plain text: post by @thebibliosphere​

I keep seeing gif sets for Outlander going past my dash and getting excited to see Sam Heughan in a kilt again (the man has excellent legs and I am weak, weak, trash) and then I saw a picture of Diana Gabaldon and had this weird transportive memory moment where suddenly I am 18 years old again working in the tea house on Sauchiehall Street and I’m taking the order of this really polite American couple who keep telling me about all the tourist things they have done here and asking me if I have been up to Inverness and visited XYZ. And I’m just there for the tip man, Americans tip so good I am just giving it my all, laughing along and chattering away, I’m one step away from doing a jig for them if it will get me a tenner I can keep to myself.

And then the husband goes off somewhere, and it’s just the dark haired lady sitting up by the window seat watching the Glasgow world go by, and I refill her cup several more times and talk her into trying the freshly baked shortbread and soon she’s my only table left and I’m just sort of lingering nearby polishing cutlery. And then this dark haired woman with bright eyes turns to me and says “you said you’re going to college for literature, right?”

I confirm, yes, that is what I said, but then for some reason I say “I figure I should try and teach or something. There’s not much stable work for writers.”

And there’s this frozen in time moment where she turns to me and says “oh you’re a writer? what do you write?” and 18 -year-old me only has half-baked ideas and is too embarrassed to say, so I just sort of shrug and say “nothing yet, some sci fi I suppose…” and then I get asked “have you read a book series called Outlander?”

It’s only my customer service facade that saves me, because yes, I had read Outlander, everyone and their nan, has read some of Outlander, because everyone and their nan wants to commit several types of sin with Jamie Fraser but other than that I think the book is awful. It was like the Fifty Shades of Grey of its time in terms of popularity but with period clothing. So I say, “yea, I’ve read it” and she sort of half laughs and says “You don’t sound that enthused.” and I sort of shrug and say “it was all right, it waffled a bit for me. You can tell the author has never been to Scotland either.”

And on the conversation goes for several more moments before this lady turns the conversation back to what I want to write and I admit I really don’t know but I just want to write eventually and she smiles and nods and then she hands me a business card along with my ten pound tip and tells me “when you’re published let me know” while I smile, nod and glance briefly at the card—remembering vaguely the name Watkins and an address in Arizona—then move on with my life.

Until this very moment in time, over a decade later, I am sat frozen on my couch watching this dark haired woman speak about how she came to write Outlander, and then an image of her husband comes up and I’m just like no, no, no so I look up her website and his last name is Watkins and they live in Arizona guys…guys I’m not 100% sure, but I think past me might have told Diana Gabaldon her book was shit.

[reblog by the same, seven years later]

Brb, on my way to drop a copy of Phangs into the mail, with love from the wee Scottish lassy in the tea shop who told you you couldnae write for toffee 💖

Hi!

What do you think of the Outlander series?

Have a great day!

It is definitely book and tv series. That is for sure. I'm not a huge fan, protagonist is a cringe self-insert and the whole thing comes across as pretty fetishising. Tune into @theayesphere on Sundays and you can ask @thebibliosphere how she feels about it. She absolutely *adores* Outlander and could excitedly talk about it for hours.

[workofthediesel]

it’s been a week and cam hasn’t even looked at that fic he said he would help me edit so

[techtainia-makes-things]

I don’t have time to properly proof read this, but I’ll be busy for a few days and wanted to get this posted before then. Enjoy the MTMTE Megatron x reader Formal.

—

The heels of the shoes on Megatron’s holoform clicked against the marble flooring that was so white that it almost hurt to look at it. The ballroom just beyond the door was surely a sight to behold. Along the curved walls, long, finely carved pillars held up a magnificent dome with an absurdly large, probably diamond, chandelier hanging from the center. Windows were placed high above the ground between each of the pillars, except for one with a large archway leading out onto an absurdly large balcony, or maybe it was a fancy deck.

This was surely the lap of luxury, and he hated every second of it.

His jacket was too tight, and so was the red tie that a passing butler had forced upon him. It was all stuffy, and loud, and…

Wow, were you stunning.

You rushed down the hallway towards him as fast as you could in the stiff shoes you were wearing. The long tail of your blazer fluttered behind you and shone like silk. It probably was silk. The pants were large and flowy as well, almost skirt-like. The cut and neckline accentuated your shoulders like a dream. The entire outfit held in all the right places. 

Megatron couldn't keep his eyes off you.

You brushed a hand through your significantly shinier than usual hair and gave him a gentle half smile. “Sorry I’m late. The maids had no clue what to do with me.”

“You almost missed our walk-out.” He hid his admiration behind a stone cold glare. 

You held your gloved hands up. “I know, I know, but I’m here now.” You lock one of your arms with his. “The question now is: Are you ready?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

You didn’t answer, and he didn’t push for one. Maybe it was for the best.

The two of you stepped down the polished marble stairs with caution, with your free hand holding onto the handrail for dear life. The heels of your shoes were just a little too high for your taste. All the people watching you in suits and fancy gowns you could never hope to afford even the fabric for just made it worse. That and the dead silence at the announcement. 

“We are proud to present Megatron and, the Duly Appointed Liaison of Human/Cybertonian relations, Y/N M/N L/N (Full name).”

Megaton supported your weight as he helped guide you to the ground. The party resumed with blaring classical music and far too expensive drinks.

You glanced over to Megatron, “You never answered my question.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “I am as ready as I’ll ever be.”

The first dance was the hardest. It was so much harder to be loose when the world of the rich and wealthy was watching you. You pushed through it, and miraculously, Megatron managed to not step on your toes this time. 

The song ended. You both drifted apart as a younger looking man asked you to dance. The dance with him was stiff and awkward as well, especially since you have never seen this man in your life. You rushed away as politely as possible when he asked if you came here often. 

It was far too crowded and stuffy inside. You stepped out onto the deck made of just as fine marble as the rest of the place. ‘These people have far too much money to spend,’ You thought as you examined a budding rose-like flower in a large vase on the railing. The marble and dome were nice, but far too much.

Megaton noticed you leaving, and with two obnoxiously small drinks in his large hands, he followed after you. You were staring up at the few stars that were not blocked out by the lights and lanterns when he arrived. The maids had definitely chosen the right outfit. “Mind if I join you?” He asked as you started down the stairs towards a garden that stretched out as far as the eye could see.

You gave him a lopsided smile. His spark fluttered. “Not at all.”

The two of you eventually landed on a bench surrounded in foliage with the drinks in hand and a small platter between you. “These are really good.” You took another bite out of one of the hors d'oeuvres. “Far too fancy though.”

Megatron chuckled goodnaturedly, but had a distant look in his eyes. “Agreed. I have to wonder about the condition of the rest of the planet.”

You leaned into him. “I do too. You feel terribly guilty about all of this too, right?”

“Of course.”

You nod. “Good. You’re improving faster than any of us thought you would.”

He gave you an odd, subtle smile. “That means more to me coming from you than you could ever know.”

“Anyways, I’ve heard you’ve been writing recently.” You took a sip of your drink.

“In fact I have.” 

“So who/what is the new muse?”

Megatron froze. He would rather dance with everyone in that ballroom than tell you about the flowery poetry he wrote about your private dance lessons. Or your divinity. Or your lips. Or the other endlessly wonderful things about you. “Most of it is frustration. Rants, if you will. Stolen moments and the clock ticking towards my trial.”

You place a firm hand on his shoulder. “At least we have these stolen moments together.” No matter how much you cared for him, you couldn't just brush off how he was, in fact, undeniably guilty. “At least you’re still alive. And quite frankly, I’m glad that I met you.’

Megatron looked down, unable to meet your eyes as he tried and failed to stop the pulsing of his spark for you. “And I as well.”

As the night inside died down and people started to leave, you got up and held out your hand to him. A slow song played from the inside at the perfect volume. “May I have this dance?”

Megatron took your hand, making an act of drawing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles. “Most definitely.”

He was shocked when you assumed the position from your first practice, with one of your hands locked with his and the other on his chest. He wrapped his free hand around your waist. 

It was not really a dance, more of a light sway to the music, but it was looser than ever before, almost romantic. Your face heated up at the thought and pink lightly dusted the high cheekbones of Megatron’s holoform. 

Those dance practices were so worth it, even as you both laughed on your way back up the stairs so you could both change and board the Lost Light yet again.

[greyeyedmonster-18]

the best present

“Knitting,” Sirius repeated, his mouth around the cigarette before inhaling once more, “You can’t complain if you receive a sweater every year for Christmas for the rest of your life.”

“I’ll take 100 sweaters if it means my kid can grow up with you there.”

(a gift that keeps giving; inspired by the posts on sirius knitting and how i think that came to be...)

--

Sirius had stepped away from his friends, leaving them inside with the music and laughter and fleeting happiness, pulling out a cigarette from his leather jacket. The weather had turned, November wind biting at his cheeks, but it was nothing a warming charm and a smoke couldn’t fix. He had only gotten a few drags in when he heard footsteps behind him. He assumed it was Remus, coming to join him as he usually did, holding out the cigarette for his boyfriend to take. 

“I don’t want that,” James’ voice came instead and Sirius reflexively pulled it away, switching hands so it was on the opposite side of where James was, holding it at arms length.

“Sorry, I thought you’d be Moony.”

“’Fraid not,” James said

“I’ll be back in a second, you don’t need to check on me. Just...needed a break. I’m alright.”

“I know you are,” he replied, and Sirius raised an eyebrow at his best friend who was standing there with his hands in his own denim jacket. “What? I’m not allowed to keep you company.”

Sirius cleared his throat, launching into his best impersonation of James, “I’m an athlete. I only get one set of lungs. Do you know how many chemicals those things have in them? Second hand smoke is just as harmful as smoking,” Sirius stopped, James grinning softly at the ground, “Need I go on?”

“Okay, okay....point made...are you sure you don’t want to go into politics?”

“There’s a war, Prongs.”

“I mean, after.”

“After this is all over, assuming I’m still alive, I’m going to sit in my tiny flat and do nothing. Learn a good bakalava recipe maybe...take a vacation to sea.”

“Oh, can I come? Sounds nice. Blow through our vaults”

“Don’t even need to ask,” Sirius grinned, “I’m going to smoke, love, so if you--”

“It’s fine.” James told him and Sirius took it at face value, bringing his cigarette up to his mouth for a long drag, blowing smoke into the air, “You know once the baby’s here you won’t be able to...right?”

“Go on vacation? They can come too.”

“Smoke.”

“I...have thought about that.”

“I don’t really want it around Lily right now either.”

Realization of why James had come outside in the first place struck him and Sirius turned to face his friend fully, “I see.”

“But I want you around, so there’s a bit of a problem here,” James started, “And I...don’t...I’m not trying to be your Mum, but you’ve been doing it more lately.”

Sirius had. He knew he had. More than he could ever remember since he started. Every spare moment he had alone was spent smoking, and stressing, and trying to keep too much darkness from making itself at home in his body. A task that was made difficult by a war that was never-ending and missions for the Order that had Sirius wondering if Remus was going to return alive. Or if Sirius himself would get to return at all.

“Is this a swan song of sorts?”

“A bad one. Terribly off-key.”

“Prongs, you know I am nothing more than...bad habits. I’m a bad habit too, Remus just hasn’t figured that out--”

“Shh.” James cut him off, “You’re not.”

“I can’t drink.”

“Cleaning? You do that. You can come clean our house once Lily can’t move because she’s so pregnant and has hippopotamus ankles.”

Sirius laughed shortly, “Our flat is impossibly clean, and I think if I organized anymore, Remus would toss me out into traffic. And I don’t know how well received it would be if I started polishing the table in the middle of Order meetings...”

“I mean, someone probably should clean.” James shrugged, “I want you around my kid, Sirius. So...I dunno, knitting?”

“Knitting.”

“Yeah. Learn to knit, give us some baby clothes. Keeps you busy and...you never know if you don’t try. Make yourself a hat for the winter now that your hair is gone,” James commented reaching up to ruffle the small amount of hair left on Sirius’ head. Long black curls had been cut and shaved off months ago, Sirius’ keeping it short, and the tattoo on his skull being slowly filled in. 

“Knitting,” Sirius repeated, his mouth around the cigarette before inhaling once more, “You can’t complain if you receive a sweater every year for Christmas for the rest of your life.”

“I’ll take 100 sweaters if it means my kid can grow up with you there.”

“Alright.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll start today. This is my last one.”

“That was so much easier than I thought it would be.”

Sirius laughed louder this time, “Love, you already know there is very little I wouldn’t do for you. And Lily. And your kid.” 

--

December 1980

“One more present, for all of you,” Sirius said, sitting on the floor of Godric’s Hollow with James and Harry--their infant son, who was currently in his lap. The second Christmas in hiding, but the first one with a new member to the family, Remus sitting on the couch next to Lily, the two of them less than thrilled to be up before 10am. Sirius levitated the large box over to James. 

“All of us?”

“You, Lily, Harry, all of you. Remus already got his.” Sirius grinned, his fingers index fingers caught in Harry’s grasp and he gestured with them, the baby squealing with the movement. “See? Harry says hurry up.”

James tore into the box gracelessly, tossing the paper to the side, and opening the lid to reveal a box full of knits. James laughed loudly, reaching in and pulling out a never-ending lumpy scarf, that got progressively better by the end, switching yarn colors every so often. “Habibi, this ones for you!”  He smiled widely, handing Lily one end over his shoulder, that she pulled, the scarf trailing onto the table.

“How long do you think my neck is, Sirius?”

“Hey, pregnancy is wild. I didn’t know if your neck would change sizes and wanted to be prepared,” Sirius shrugged, watching as James pulled out a dark green and blue knit sweater that wasn’t full of lumps, the steady improvement in the knitting visible, “That one is for you actually, Lils. It matches your eyes, and there should be one...”

“For me!?” James gasped, pulling out a brown and orange one, and putting over his head immediately, “I’m very impressed, sweetheart. Wait--Lily--”

“James, baby, I’m right behind you, you don’t need to shout--is that a baby sweater, Sirius?!”

“Ow.” Remus said, rubbing his ear at the volume of Lily’s excitement, Harry immediately mimicking his Mum’s noise and screeching as well. Sirius started laughing, waving Harry’s arms around wildly, the baby still clutching his fingers firmly, and Harry’s noises continued. 

“When did you have time to learn and do all this?” Lily asked, wrapping the ridiculous scarf around her neck several times, throwing the other end in Remus’ face. 

“Turns out...I used to smoke a lot.” Sirius offered as an explanation, taking a tiny knit had from James and pulling it on top of Harry’s head gently. 

James gave Sirius a smile, holding a tiny baby sweater in his hands, “Best present ever,” he said, taking care not to squish Harry as he wrapped his arms around Sirius tightly, kissing him on the cheek. “Love you so much.”

--

December 1991

“Last box,” Sirius said, putting it onto Harry’s lap.

“Sirius, I’m eleven now. Practically, twelve. Don’t you think I’m a bit old for matching sweaters?”

Sirius furrowed his brow, exchanging a confused look with Remus, “Did you hear that?”

“I didn’t hear a thing. Harry, you should speak up. You know, we’re getting old too.”

Harry rolled his eyes but opened the box anyway, wrapping paper torn and cast aside, Sirius seeing James in the littlest things. “This...isn’t a Christmas sweater?” The boy pulled out a sweater that was made of fine knit. Simple and a deep burgundy to match the boys House colors. It wasn’t the usual Christmas spectacle Sirius knitted every year for the three of them. Harry also pulled out a matching knit hat, equally soft and warm, alongside simple black gloves, “Hey! I needed gloves! How’d you know?”

“When I saw you only came home with one,” Sirius grinned, “And it never hurts to have more sweaters in Gryffindor colors, now that you’re official.”

Harry smiled slowly, “Thank you! Your sweaters are the best and I’ll actually wear this--oh, you still made the Christmas one...reindeer? Again?.”

“It’s not Christmas otherwise.” Sirius said and Harry rolled his eyes, but still placed the black knit hat over his head. 

--

December 1996

“Accio, knitting needles!” Sirius said, standing up from the kitchen table after receiving post Christmas Eve that he should’ve bloody waited to open. He always did this. He always ruined holidays and birthdays and days that otherwise should’ve been good by opening post or going through boxes. A self-destructive tendency he still had from sixteen. He ran his hand over his hair, nothing appearing in the kitchen, “Fucking hell, where are they?”

“Where are what?” Harry asked, walking bleary eyes into the kitchen, rubbing his face sleepily. His beige hooded sweatshirt was pulled up over his messy hair, pajama bottoms with snowflakes on them sagging off his hips. Harry wore his jeans that way too and Sirius had to resist the parental urge to tell him to pull them up, tired of seeing Harry’s underwear

“Pretend you didn’t hear that,” Sirius said quickly, “You haven’t seen my knitting needles have you? I’ve a terrible thought I left them at my desk at work...”

He had thought a few times to get another set. But after all these years, Sirius still treated his knitting needles like a pack of cigarettes. Never leaving home without them tucked away. As exciting and vindicating the world of politics and legal procedures was proving to be, that didn’t mean certain policies didn’t set Sirius’ teeth on edge. He had been known to start sweaters in the middle of hearings, needles clacking together from the defense’s table.

“Can’t say I have.” Harry started, “I’m more concerned with the fact that you can’t find something. Have you considered and organizational system?” Harry teased and Sirius hooked his godson around the shoulders quickly, jostling him playfully and Harry laughed “Oi, quit it.”

“Nothing but cheek.” Sirius gave Harry another playful shove, “Are you going to be alright if I pop away quickly?”

“Sirius, I’m sixteen. You’ve left me alone for hours before. I think I can manage the two seconds it takes you to get to the ministry.”

Sirius grabbed his wand off the table quickly, shaking his head again at Harry’s remark, “Eat something, cheeky.” He said, “And can you let Remus--”

“I’ll make up a wild explanation and tell him you’ve run off and we’re on our own for Christmas Eve!” Harry called back as Sirius walked down the hallway towards the floo, grinning. 

--

Sirius knitted for most of the day, explaining to Remus with the post that had came. 

Do we need to put wards on the house for holiday’s so you’re not tempted to open post? Make’s you so out of sorts all day, baby

I might let you.

By the end of Christmas Eve dinner, Sirius had an exorbitantly long, striped, knitted scarf. He had stopped for dinner, and after as guests were gathered, opting for a glass of firewhiskey and Remus’ hand instead. Opting for kisses after guest had left and it was just the three of them in the quiet of the living room. Remus was in bed reading when Sirius walked out of the bedroom to go find his needles once more, wanting to see if he could get another one done, Harry still awake in the sitting room, reading a book about Quidditch Hermione had given him. He was sixteen and no longer had a mandated bedtime, as long as it was before midnight, and his godson looked peaceful by the glow of the fire, a blanket over his lap and a cup of hot cocoa next to him. 

Like mother like son. Like Remus like Harry.

“Goodnight, my love,” Sirius said from the doorway as he passed by knitting needles in hand, “The fire should go out by midnight, so you don’t need to worry about it.”

“I wasn’t going to worry, but thanks,” Harry said looking up from his book, his eyes going down to the needles in Sirius’ hand, “You know, I never noticed until today...”

“Hm?”

“You knit at the weirdest times, Sirius. And some kind of knitting emergency this morning? I promise I’d be okay if you didn’t have time to knit me a sweater this year.”

“Your sweater has been done for months, Harry,” Sirius told him stepping past the threshold and going to take a seat on the couch next to his godson. “Did...you know I used to smoke?”

“You did? I’ve never seen you...”

“I started when I was sixteen..just after I ran away from my parent’s,” Sirius nodded, Harry now listening intently, “And I didn’t stop until...well your Mum was about three months pregnant? Your Dad hated it. Even when Remus and I were teenagers, he didn’t let us smoke around him. He was good like that. Didn’t smoke, didn’t drink...he had a bedtime even. One he gave himself.”

Harry made a face, “Sometimes I think my Dad was really cool....and then you say things like that.”

Sirius laughed, “You’d be right. He...was just good. Anyway, he told me he didn’t want smoke around your mum while she was pregnant or...you so, I quit and took up knitting.” He looked down at the silver needles and bright blue yarn in his hands, “And so every time now I feel like I want a cigarette...I knit instead. The first Christmas I quit, I gifted your Mum and Dad a massive collection of things. It was mostly all horrific too because I was still learning. But there were things for you in there too.”

“My hat right? The one in the baby box?”

“Only one you would wear,” Sirius smiled softly. 

“Still the only hats I wear...” Harry put down his book and looked at Sirius, “You quit smoking for me?”

“I’d do it again too. There’s very little I wouldn’t do for you, you know that right?”

--

December 2002

“One more, Sirius.” Harry said, dropping a box into Sirius’ lap from his standing position, “Well its for both of you, technically.” 

“And from us, technically,” Ginny said, from the couch, where she was watching Harry with amusement. 

Sirius carefully unwrapped the package, folding the wrapping paper to put int he pile beside him, and opening the box. He grinned as he saw a knitted sweater inside, pulling it out carefully. It wasn’t perfect by any means. The neck looked too big, parts of the sleeves were falling apart, but it was black and made of nice yarn. “This is great, Harry. Is this why you wanted me to teach you? To make me a sweater?” He asked, “Oh, look, love, theres one for you too! I’m assuming the black one is mine--”

Remus reached for the brown one in the box, “Of course you get the Black one--”

“Turn it around,” Harry said, “You need to see the front or else it’s just a shitty sweater.”

“I will proudly wear this shitty sweater,” Sirius started but followed the instructions, flipping the garment around to look at the front, “It says grandpa. Well that’s not nice--”

Remus looked at Harry and Ginny who were waiting for Sirius to catch on, quietly smiling, “Are you joking?”

“No.” Harry laughed, “You’re both grandpa’s.”

“I found one grey hair--”

“Sirius, baby,” Remus grabbed Sirius under the chin gently, “Grandpa.” he repeated, and Sirius stared for a moment before realizing what was happening. He was off of the couch quickly, rushing over to Harry and giving him a tight hug around his shoulders, Remus following suit, pulling Ginny into the small huddle. 

“I’m going to be a grandpa?! You? Both of you?!” Sirius asked loudly and Harry nodded, his eyes misting, “Best present ever.” He kissed his godson on the side of the face, “I love you so much.” 

“You think you’ll have time to make the baby a proper hat?”

I’ll do you one better, James. 100 sweaters later and your kid’s kid will grow up with me there. 

[ingolditrust]

✨ Dream Girl Guide ✨

After reading @2pretty's Dream Girl Guide, I knew it was time to get down to business and also set some serious goals for the rest of year.

Although I have evolved a lot in the past year and managed to incorporate a lot of new beneficial habits, I feel like there is still room to grow and glow-up. So let's make the next 6 months count and hold myself accountable with this post to keep myself on track. 💕

The dream girl version of myself is an elegant, graceful and witty beauty, who is worldly and speaks multiple languages. She oozes confidence and enchants her surroundings with her knowledge, wit and charm. She seizes opportunities when she sees them and unapologetically asks for what she wants. She has clear boundaries and does not let any man or woman disrespect her or her boundaries. Her home is always spotless and smells fresh, she is completely on top of her house chores. She has a trim figure, which he tones through consistent workouts. She has a booty!! she built in the gym. People want to be around her energy, she is grounded and calm and practices mindfulness on the daily. She always looks naturally put together, takes absolute pride in her appearance and SPF is her best friend. 💖

12 Qualities to create her:

♦ speaks HSK 5 level chinese

♦ oozes confidence and charm in social settings

♦ has a killer job and focuses on her professional development

♦ has a booty (does a booty count as a quality? i say yes) trim figure and graceful posture / flexibility

♦ knows about Art

♦ practices minimalism / essentialism

♦ Slow, clear and pronounced speech

♦ great financial knowledge and builds up her investments

♦ is kind and compassionate

♦ continuously seeks new knowledge in various areas

♦ speaks intermediate Russian

♦ is grounded and calm, has control over her emotions

June

✨ Ramping up my Chinese ✨

I am staying in Taiwan for the summer on a Chineses language scholarship. Initially it was more to just revise what I have forgotten last year and enjoy a covid free summer, but now I really want to push my command of the language to new heights. I will study 2-3 hours per day (next to my daily language course) and try to seize every opportunity to really further my Chinese and not fall back to using English. It is going to be uncomfortable and awkward sometimes, but it will pay off.

July

✨ Confidence and Charm ✨

I will use July to explore the dating scene in Taiwan and also use this opportunity to further build my self-confidence and charm when it comes to men. This may sound like an unusual quality to train, but i want to make it my goal to feel completely unintimidated and at ease around men. I will clearly state my boundaries at all times and not allow anyone to push or violate them. I will state my wants and needs and see who rises to the occasion or not. I will only focus on men's action and not their words. This month will also give me the opportunity to discover more about myself.

August

✨ Finding a killer Job ✨

August will the month of intense job-search and career exploration. I have already polished my resumé and I will send out at least 15 job applications. Next to that, I will do extensive research on graduate / Masters programs and decide at which universities and for which programs I will apply.

September

✨ Booty time ✨

I will work out at least 4 times per week, really focus on high protein intake and a good mixture between strength and cardio workouts + stretching. I will focus on finally growing that peach of mine 🍑. In edition, I will do this (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5HBnDig8hY&t=5s) 8 min posture exercise video every day to strengthen my back and help me look more graceful and elegant.

October

✨ Work of Art✨

October will be the month of Art. I've always wanted to get more acquainted with it, so in October I will research about the Art world at least 3 hrs per week, get more familiar with the different art periods, artists and styles. Plus I will try to visit at least 2 galleries.

November

✨ Minimalism / Essentialism✨

Before the Christmas mayhem starts, I want to refocus on minimalism and essentialism, being intentional with the items and things in my life. Essentially Marie Kondo-ing my life. Decluttering my apartment and closet, taking inventory of what I own, what needs to be polished and better taken of or what needs to be replaced. I will revisit my minimalism habits and check if i have kept on track with them during the year (e.g. am I buying things because I really need them and will serve me in the long run or I am I buying emotionally and/or instant gratification?). I will try my best to make this a no-buy November, unless the item is essential to my life / growth or if I have to replace something.

December

✨ Slow, clear and intentional speech✨

I know that a lot of people tell me that I sometimes speak to fast and unclear, thus making it hard for people to follow and keep up with what I am saying. As I fear it could sometimes diminish my presence and credibility, I will actively use December to try and work on this. Whether that is through guided speech exercises that I will look up online, or get a speech the therapist, remains to be decided.

I have sketched out my plan for the rest of 2021 and plan to revisit my dream girl guide at the end of December, to plan anew and adjust and recalibrate accordingly for 2022 ♥️.

✨ Let the glow-up gods shine their light upon me ✨