calcuttagoldmarble-blog

[suplexjones]

hi im up on this fine sleepover saturday avoiding work! updates from me are that im writing a scene where the girlbucks paint each other's nails, and also im crocheting a giant slug.

what's a piece of media you could watch a million times and not get tired of? ive watched hannibal about 4 times with various friends, and it's still so good. also the original 1978 Halloween movie ive watched a lot

Hi, El! I can't wait to read that scene one day. Also, send me a picture of the giant slug when you're done please. It sounds really cool.

Hannibal is so good. But for some reason the only episodes I always rewatch the first 2 🤷

I hope you don't mind me leaving a big list below? Before I got into wrestling a lot of my brain concentrated on bingeing movies and tv shows so...

My movies are Tuck Everlasting, Beetlejuice, Ravenous (1999), The Lost Boys, The Dreamers (2003), How I Live Now, Stand By Me.

My tv shows are The Terror, The Haunting of Hill House, The Walking Dead (the first 2 seasons), The Vampire Diaries (the first 2 seasons), Supernatural (the first 2 seasons)

[szkunas]

KNOCK KNOCK, GUESS WHO! ౨ৎㅤsuguru geto.

synopsis / premise ♱ㅤwhen things in your life go well for a long time, there will undeniably be a problem knocking on your door. this time, the issue is your ex-boyfriend, wanted by the jujutsu society — who is very angry with you, even after he stole your money. || PART ONE (previous)

featuring ♱ㅤsuguru geto (jjk0 / 2017 version) x FEM reader.

warnings ♱ㅤ NSFW ♡︎ ㅤporn with very little plot ! toxic behavior ! suguru (GENOCIDAL man) ! unprotected sex (wrap it up) + unrealistic portraits of sex ! creampie ! reader and gojo are not in a relationship, but mutually interested in each other ! coercion / dub-con (both consent but just to be safe) ! genocide / death mentions (geto) ! stalking and breaking in ! bondage + choking ! spanking ! edging ! obsessed suguru agenda ! delusional suguru (you will see) ! seduction !

honorary mentions (inspirations, please read) ♱ㅤthis ask, by anon! all credits to them, i was not planning a part two, haha. whoever you are, i hope you enjoy it.

author’s note ♱ㅤso, today i was sitting down and thinking “im going to finish that yuta draft and probably start the sukuna draft for the event, since he’s winning the poll”. guess which of these two things I did? exactly. none. so, here is more suguru geto for you. i apologize in advance — i am not good at writing seduction. this is a bit rushed lol. repost because i can't see my post in tags

THERE IS NOTHING SCARIER than discovering that the person you love most is hiding a dark secret. it could be a lover, a second family, a dark past or a real, rotting present. that’s the feeling you get: everything is rotten. the walls around you and the space are shaped into a molten mist that rots as time passes, as you read the letter that someone slipped under your door.

the highly wanted criminal, suguru geto, was seen in your apartment two weeks ago, as shown in the photos below. we ask for your full and complete cooperation in the investigation, and soon some sorcerers will need to interrogate you. expect their visit at any time and answer the door when the time comes.ㅤ— the higher-ups from jujutsu society.

oh, hell. no. this cannot be happening.

as the procedure says, you burn the letter and get rid of the ashes.

although your situation is absolutely desperate, the secrecy of jujutsu comes before your disastrous love life. you turn to look for your cell phone, and the delay hurts your bones.

it seems like the object disappears when you need it most. when you find the damn phone, you don’t even hesitate. as you type the number that, at this point, your head knows by heart, your hands shake. this cannot be true. they are lying, they are trying to deceive me and defame suguru. but why? why would society need to do this?

of course, mentally, you suppress yourself. and a rational part of your brain — the part that isn’t driven by the love you feel for a man who’s been with you a long time — slowly realizes that this is the truth.

that’s why the disappearances in the middle of the night, the slight disregard for non-sorcerers touching you or him. the preference for privacy and not allowing you to post photos of the two of you together. he doesn’t have social media, he said. it feels very public. what a lie, he was actually a wanted criminal and cult leader.

no one answers the call, and you press the button once again. and again. and again. by the sixth time, you’re not sure if your hands are shaking with fear, disgust, or hate.

your money. your savings, built up after you left the witch life behind. a small guarantee of your future, a future you planned to have with suguru. a future stolen and lost, by the same man who once stole her heart. beautiful black hair and purple eyes really make a girl forget to pay attention to the red flags.

you leave voicemail after voicemail, until the box is full. then, messages. text after text while your fingertips digit furiously. it didn’t take long for you to realize that a response from him would be even worse, so your last messages were simple, direct. do not talk to me anymore. don’t ever appear in front of me again. and don’t you dare involve me in your affairs, you bastard.

pressing the send button through tears was one of the hardest things you’ve ever done in your life. and so, blocking the number seemed like the most sensible solution. it’s not like he would respond, even if you gave the number to the investigators — your exact intention.

so everything went as it should. 39 missed calls, 104 unanswered messages that changed her perspective of him forever, along with a letter that turned to ash, like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly. your life took a new direction, an unpredictable metamorphosis that made you move to another address after the entire legal process on your part was concluded. you didn’t know, and you had no involvement, as hard as it was to believe. and then the sorcerers left you alone, and this was your second new start to normal life.

lonely and with a betrayed heart, in a new apartment far from your ex. unloading the last box does not bring the relief of releasing a chain, but the pain. the pain of losing something. as if the chain had tied itself to one of your ribs and ripped it away, taking a part of you.

but the tears dry. time passes. the pain diminishes, and the space that takes it in the heart is hatred. you become your priority again, and in time, you rise again only to fall again. one last effort, a call to a certain sorcerer you once knew, satoru gojo. this was his noah’s ark, his last hope before resorting to more desperate methods.

he answered. and since then, a lot has changed.

it’s been almost ten months since suguru stole your money and trampled on your love and dignity. almost ten months in which you had your heart broken, and you slowly put the pieces back together. now, your latest relationship — it’s not really a relationship.

six weeks ago, you and satoru had sex in your apartment for the first time. since then, he has been very helpful in all aspects of your life and visits you regularly. he takes you on dates and even carried you when his feet got sore from walking. it sounds crazy, feeling so comfortable with someone after just six weeks, but that’s what happens.

gojo is more than an arrogant boy who uses humor in every situation he sees, he has a heart, and a very generous one at that. despite his insistence, the credit card that was entrusted to you is rarely used (and you managed to convince him to change the password, too). his intention was to ask for help, not to become a parasite that will take as much from him as he can. not when he’s a much better person than you expected. a kind of clumsy white knight, in a cute and a bit of a loser way at the same time.

so, of course, the dates have become routine now. cinemas, walks in the park, roller skating, going for ice cream. these experiences stand out in your memories, as sweet as scenes from clichéd romance films. kisses in the rain, desperate hands pushing you into the apartment — maybe this time, you might be able to tease him a little, make him lose it and have you right there, in a dark corner? the idea is exciting, dangerous, and so stupid it makes your heart flutter.

he still owes you a new bed, though. you keep fucking on your couch because you two broke your single bed the last time you did it.

checking yourself in the mirror before a date is, naturally, what everyone does. the red dress that adorns her body is a little short, the kind of thing you see on a seductive movie character. but satoru asked for this tiny — as tiny as the dress, in his words — favor and promised anything you wanted later if you wore that and hung on his arm all night. even when he’s being a pervert, he’s just a guy who’s whipped for you.

the idea makes you take a step back. satoru can’t be in love with you. yeah, okay. he does cute things often. he takes you on dates almost every week. he’s always trying to make you laugh and has already learned most of your quirks, likes and dislikes. he remembers you throughout the day, at random intervals, and buys you things so casually that you had to beg him to stop and not max out his card bill — he just laughed and said it was all cheap anyway. heirs…

but he can’t be in love. it’s all new, recent. perfect, but maybe it’s just hidden by the love fog at the beginning of a relationship. it has already blinded you to bad signals once, and you internally wonder if you are using gojo.

of course, part of you has already thought about it. having sex with your ex’s best friend and solve your financial problems. two birds, one stone. but satoru is everything suguru is not — true. intense and real, without a mask of sweet truth that covered a rotten truth.

honestly, you don’t want to think about it too much right now. this is a conversation that should be between you and satoru, not between you and your intrusive, insecure thoughts. he deserves to know the truth and he deserves to know that you’re just as interested as he is — not on the money, but on him.

a text message makes you smile right after spraying a sweet perfume on your neck. the screen lights up with that contact that has now become your favorite.

toru <3; ㅤ already in the dress? photos or else ill die (seriously)

a small laugh escapes your throat, and you immediately prepare to take a photo. stepping back a little and posing in front of the mirror, you could swear you heard something near your apartment door while simultaneously hearing the soft click of your cell phone.

one pose to show the front, and one for the back, with a soft, evil smile. satoru isn’t your boyfriend, but with his attitude, he could very well be. he looks at you as if you were the only woman in the world, and as if he wanted you forever. it’s beautiful. it’s such a beautiful emotion to see in those blue eyes that you can’t wait for the next time you look.

after texting back, asking what time the movie starts, your eyebrows come together in a frown. omnisity takes over the environment quickly, and you swear your heart stops beating.

this energy— it cannot be.

“hi princess. missed me?”

the whisper in your ear is so sudden that you immediately turn your face to look. a hand grabs your chin and forces your head to turn back to the mirror, and you gasp, immediately struggling.

suguru geto, on the flesh, the greatest traitor to have walked the earth since judas. traitor to the jujutsu society, criminal and mass murderer, and of course — your ex-boyfriend. right behind you, and forcing you to stare at the mirror as his free hand snatches your phone away.

you hit him with your elbow, but he barely moves. humming, as if he is amused. as if you are some game. geto’s hips press forward against yours, and he efficiently traps you between the sink and him.

this cannot be happening.

what suguru doesn’t find amusing, though, is your text messages with satoru. long or short, little flirtations or obvious nudes, these messages are simply something that makes him turn his nose up in disgust. how dare him. how dare satoru take the one thing suguru truly loved that way?

“get off me.” you murmur, your eyes widening. like any sorcerer, you know the basics of defending yourself, but panic runs through your veins like poison. your muscles feel like solid stone, and you can’t stop your breath from hitching when his hand stops cupping your cheek to grab you by the throat.

he’s a criminal who definitely must have had his share of fights. you are a sorceress who has not been in the field for almost ten years. in a real fight? he could drown you in that sink and satoru would only find out hours later.

satoru. the thought makes you immediately ramble.

“don’t you dare lay a hand on me. satoru will—” he squeezes your neck softly, a silent message for you to keep your mouth shut. suguru sighs, annoyed he needs to explain it to you, word by word. he really, really likes you, but he’s not in the mood after all these games.

this small action — squeezing your neck gently — makes you remember old times. old times, not good days. because, although they were good, the memory was effectively corrupted when he left you, almost a year ago.

“satoru will not do a thing. he doesn’t know i’m here, and he won’t know.” a break. “yet.”

your eyebrows shoot up, before your face contorts into confusion. what does he mean, yet? if anyone knows he’s here, he will be executed. why would he risk it, just to see you? is he here to kill you?

the thought brings visible panics into your eyes — the wonderful, pretty eyes you have. the window to your soul. your soul and body, which suguru would like to possess again.

again, what a ridiculous term. he never stopped owning it, in the first place.

maybe if you buy time, satoru will come see what’s taking so long. he will help. you’ll be safe.

but the date is only thirty minutes, and for satoru to come in person, you would have to wait another forty. one hour and ten minutes with your genocidal ex-boyfriend. wow. this must be some kind of twisted lottery of fate, where winning makes you unlucky.

you force your voice to remain calm, composed. he does not deserve the satisfaction of your fear.

“why are you here?”

“oh, look at her.” he mocks, as if you’re not even just there, listening. “asking why i’m here as if she has no idea.”

“i don’t.” you grit your teeth. “this is why people ask, imbecile. they want answers— ugh.” he squeezes your neck again, making you grow quiet until he relaxes.

“darling.” suguru smiles softly, but some veins are popping up on his hand. he is absolutely pissed, using that sweet voice to smooth you. “you know why i’m here. don’t play dumb. you— let satoru touch you.”

his tone is still soft, affectionate as the boyfriend you once called yours. but beneath the sweetness, there is an anger, a possession. like an animal whose territory has been pierced.

“did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he leans in, his hot breath making shivers run down your spine violently. “you underestimate me, my love. i’m a bit offended. coming from you, i expected so much more.”

his hand snakes all over your body, and close as he is, you’re sure he can hear your erratic heartbeat. thump-thump. thump-thump. thump-thump.

like the engine of a machine, accelerated to its limits. if your organs are your gears, you believe you are malfunctioning right now. a poorly functioning machine due to information overload.

it’s a lot to handle. his hands are warm as they gently pull your dress up, groaning. “i barely had to move it away. what, you enjoy dressing like a slut for satoru?”

it seems like your voice only works normally, as it should, when you feel your panties being pulled down, gasping. “suguru, no! you can’t!”

“oh, i can’t? why? c’mon, darling, just the tip.” he throws your phone away — the sound the device makes when it breaks against the wall is blood-curdling. he wraps both his arms around your waist, pressing his hips to yours. “pretty please?”

you grit your teeth. why the hell is this attractive? perhaps it’s because you barely heard geto beg before. but, no. you can’t. satoru, your satoru, he’s waiting for you — instead, you have your freak ex humping slowly against you. no way, is he wearing buddhist attire? like a monk or something. but these thoughts don’t matter. his words take you out of your head.

“i saw everything that day, you know. and a little before, and after that. getting all cozy with satoru, because i’m not here? you offend me, sweetheart. i’m a bit hurt.”

“oh, i’m not hearing this.” you curl your hands into fists, slamming them on his arms. “not after you lied about who you are, stole my damn money, and left! fuck you, geto! fuck. you.”

he smirks against your ear, grabbing your wrists and pulling your arms behind your back. you groaned, and he quickly decided to hit two birds with one stone.

tugging at the clothing strip that holds his robes together, he rips it off and uses it to tie your hands together as you squirm. he gives it a little tug, confirming it’s not too tight, and throws his clothings to the other side of the room.

“i know i haven’t been here.” he pauses, and you can watch him through the mirror as he forces you a bit down. “and i’m sorry. i wanted to tell you, i did. but i couldn’t. i know what you would think, and— i couldn’t lose you.”

it’s like a sincere admission, but you’re not foolish enough to feel sorry. not for him, definitely. throwing salt at the wound is your strategy right now.

“you lost me anyway. y’know, satoru really has a way with backshots that—” your words are cut off by a gasp, when he rips your panties off you and holds you down by the back of your neck. your back does a pretty arch for him like that, but suguru is not nearly amused enough.

“don’t be a brat. i made mistakes, but you, too. whoring yourself for my best friend? are you kidding me, love?”

“i’m not your love, don’t call me that.” he grabs you by the hair, tugging your head back up to look at his eyes through his reflection.

a pause, and suguru decided against what he was going to originally say, softening his grip on you.

“i missed you. i did. can’t i show it to you? just a little, baby, please?” he presses his hips into yours a bit more gently, and you can feel it.

his rock-hard erection, rubbing softly against your warm pussy. it makes you shiver and hum against your will. a part of you misses it. nothing wrong with satoru — he’s a great learner for an inexperienced guy — but geto knows just how to blow your back and be soft at the same time. an art satoru hasn’t mastered yet.

the idea of doing this to that white haired man who is so good to you — it brings tears to your face. how dare you want to say yes? but also, how could you say no when suguru’s head is rubbing deliciously against your entrance?

you close your eyes in defeat, not able to look at yourself.

“be quick. and don’t ever ask me anything again. you get this— and you disappear from my sight. forever.”

a deal with the devil. sacrifice something and gain something. your body for peace.

he chuckles, throwing his head back with a smirk. “oh, you and i both know that’s not happening, sweetheart. i’ll be here, forever.” he slips his hands down your waist, grabbing it gently and pushing his cock in.

the feeling is— exquisite. geto could try all he wanted, search in all the world, but he never could find someone like you. your body is almost poisonous — intoxicating is the right word. he just bottomed out and he’s already mixing his thoughts. that’s the effect you have on him.

suguru’s hips start moving at a restless pace, not giving you time to breathe or a warning. he can’t waste time with words, not now. not after being pulled away from you, his beloved, for ten torturous months. just when he was planning to come back and convince you to join his cult — or just grab you and lock you up, whatever —, he found you riding his best friend. sinking down satoru’s cock and making him cream all inside you.

the idea makes him huff, thrusting harder.

and you, under him? with your wrists tied up? well, you’re a mess. you’ll have to try bondage with satoru later, it’ll surely make his cock explode. your eyes widen, and you babble something — what’s wrong with your head? why are you thinking about satoru, then, suguru, then satoru again?

oh, lord above, maybe both at the same time? it’s a fantasy that makes you blush more than what you’re doing right now.

suguru guides your head up again, holding your neck gently.

“what are you thinking about, love? you keep—” he grunts. “clenching down on me.”

“nothing,” you stammer out. okay, there is something seriously wrong with you for enjoying this so much. a moan escapes you before you can stop it. “nngh— satoru!”

his eyes widen at the same time as yours. if your hands weren’t tied up, you would have brought one up to your mouth. the squeezing on your neck is firm, enough to not cut air circulation, but present. surely. the whisper of your name echoes through the bathroom.

“what did you just say?”

he looms over you, blushed cheeks and vulnerable expressions changing all the time, staring at your dumb little face in the mirror. suguru has a soft frown on his face, his eyes wide in horror, and his lips are slightly parted. but there’s a dark shadow oozing off him, a rage that cannot be contained.

he’s hurt. he’s mad.

you try to justify it quickly, to do damage control. “suguru! i said— i said suguru!”

but it’s a little too late for that, and lies only make it worse. he pins you down harder, his hips moving back at a ruthless pace this time. harder, faster — no mercy or trace of the sweet man who used to make love with you as if you were made of glass.

now, he fucks you as if he hates you, he hates your guts.

your moans and whines are muffled by the obscene sounds escaping where your hips meet. plap plap plap, mixed with a softly, slightly wet whisper of some sort. suguru lets go of your waist and brings his hand up.

you gasp when it hits the back of your thigh in a loud smack!

he forces you to look up, breathless as he murmurs.

“start counting.” he groans, harshly. and he smacks you again, right on the ass. he’s hitting so hard that you believe his intention is leaving a red mark — a present for satoru to look at later. and you’re right. his friend knows no boundaries and keeps taking what is his. what choice does he has, unless to mark you up?

smack.

you shiver, trying to squirm away and kick before he pins you down again.

“behave, brat. now start counting.”

smack.

“one—” you moan when his heat hits your sweet spot, huffing. smack. “two.”

“good girl.” smack. smack. smack. “how many is that, princess, mm? ohh, that’s the good pussy i missed so much. so— tight.”

“ngh! three! four! f—five?”

“is that a question, or are you answering me, my love?”

he chuckles meanly, thrusting into you again. you both grunt — near the edge already.

“suguru.” you throw your head back, whimpering. “i’m— i’m gonna—”

“ohh, you’re going to cum? that fast, honey? satoru hasn’t been good enough to you, i see.” he thrusts harder, laughing meanly at the way your eyes widen and tear up. “aww, he can’t treat you like you want. he fucks you like a good girl, i bet. but you want to be fucked like a slut.”

he leans down, peppering your neck with kisses and hearing your deep breaths. “it’s okay. i’m close, too. you have this effect on me, my love.” he grunts again, grabbing your hips. “throw that ass back on me, baby, yeah? yeah, juuuust like that.”

he grabs your chin, forcing you to look up as he presses his lips to yours in a upside down kiss. it would be romantic if it weren’t so possessive, visceral, crude. carnal. desperate.

when your lips part, he grunts and sighs softly, while you’re moaning loudly. nearly at the same time, your orgasms hit you both with everything.

suguru’s thrusts become messy, sloppy, and his skin feels a bit sticky against yours as he fucks himself using your pussy, pushing in ropes of cum to paint your insides.

you let your head fall forward when it’s your turn, squirming and whimpering softly. his forehead would have hit the sink if he weren’t holding you up. some more seconds, to dry out both of your highs. slowly, gently, he pulls out of you, watching the fat drops oozing out of your used hole.

suguru smirks as he undoes your restraints, kissing the back of your neck tenderly and adjusting your dress.

“don’t forget who has you first, mkay? i left a little gift for you and satoru here.” he sighs, sounding a bit sad. “i’ll have to go again, i’m sorry. but i’ll be back soon. don’t miss me too much. just leave your window unlocked, and i’ll be here again.” he grabs your face to turn it again, brushing his lips against yours. “unlocking them is a chore.”

geto leans back, and you shiver, confused. the sound of clothes being adjusted and thrown back into a body makes you turn your head moments after you heard it, still a bit too slow.

and he is gone. as you fix yourself up on your feet, you shiver as the realization hits you hard as a stone. no, no. satoru. no.

you stumble to the corner of the bathroom, picking up your phone. the screen is broken, but a call icon appears. you accept immediately, nearly sobbing.

“hey, senpai,” the nickname is soft coming from his lips. a small joke, playing with an honorific that he does not use with figures he should use. “you’re— a bit late. did something came up, or?”

“satoru.” you sob, and even through the screen, you can feel him tense up. his voice becomes more serious.

“what happened? are you okay? where are you? i’m on my way.” the scraping of a chair can be heard in the background of the call.

“i’m— my apartment. i have something to tell you. we need to talk, seriously, we—”

you shiver, and for some reason, you can picture your ex perfectly — walking proudly, with his nose up, the wind making his black hair flow behind him and cruel, purple eyes accompanied by a soft smirk.

“i made a mistake.”

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, I APOLOGIZE FOR ANY MISTAKES.ㅤthank you for reading! <3

[jjunberry]

“kiss the prettiest girl in the room”

pairing! kang taehyun x reader

genre! pure angst, unhappy ending

synopsis! the boy you’ve been in love with since highschool is dared to kiss the prettiest girl, and he doesn’t kiss you.

wc! 1.8k

letting out a sigh you watched as the minutes counted down slowly. it was your last lecture before you could go back to your dorm. the week had been stressful and all you wanted to do was relax. the professor finally dismissed class and you were quick to pack up your stuff and get out. your friend and taehyun was waiting for you outside of the classroom. you smiled seeing taehyun. he took your bag for you and carried it. he was always doing small things like that for you. it never fails to make your heart flutter.

“there’s a party tonight at yunjin’s. we are totally going.” your friend said looping her arm through yours. letting out a sigh you kept walking with her letting her ramble. she never really gave you the choice on going or not. “oh tyun please say you’re coming too?” she batted her eyelashes at him. he stared at her. “i guess so.” she squealed. “come y/n i need help picking my outfit.” she grabbed your wrist and started pulling you. taehyun quickly handed you your bag. you gave him a small wave before turning and following your friend.

when you got to your friends dorm she went straight to her closet. “tonight’s party is going to be so much fun.” her voice was muffled as she dug through her clothes. she tossed a black dress to you. “here try this on.” the material was soft but there wasn’t much of it. slipping into her bathroom you changed into the dress. it stopped just above your knees. a low cut v in the neckline. you couldn’t lie this dress made you feel beautiful. “earth to y/n, let me see the dress?”

your friend was at her vanity putting on makeup. she peaked at you through the mirror. “whew, you’re looking hot.” you smiled. “oh y/n you look good too.” your smile fell. she curled her hair and made sure she was all dolled up. you decide on a light makeup and just wearing your hair down. “i’m going to go pregame with the girls. i’ll see you later okay?” she was gathering her stuff. “see yourself babes.” the door shut and you were alone. grabbing your bookbag you rushed across campus to your dorm.

you went to your room and into your closet. there you pulled out a skirt and a cute blouse. you liked keeping things casual but cute. never one to really do over the top party outfits. never the one to do parties really. you decide to wipe off the makeup and go for something lighter. as you put the cap on your mascara your phone rang.

taehyun’s name and smiley face flashed on the screen. a smile grew on your lips as you quickly answered the call. “hello?” you asked. “hey y/n are you going tonight?” his voice sounded distant and you could hear movement of objects. “yeah i am, unfortunately against my will.” he laughed. “it won’t be awful, i’ll be there.” you smiled at that. leave it to taehyun to always make you smile. always make your heart flutter.

“do you want me to pick you up?” he was closer now. “yeah that would be nice.” you answered. “okay i’ll be there in about fifteen minutes okay?” you nodded but realizing he couldn’t see you, you spoke up. “okay see you soon.” you said your goodbyes and decided to wait in your lounge area in the dorm.

your friend was posting on her social media of her outfits, her other friends. they looked stunning, before you could let your brain be mean taehyun texted. he was waiting outside for you. sighing you grabbed your bag and met him. he was wearing a tight black shirt tucked into some jeans. he looked so good.

“hi y/n you look nice.” he said. you couldn’t control the blush that took over your face. “thank you, uh you look handsome.” he smiled. “thank you, i guess i clean up nice.” you giggled. taehyun had been your friend since highschool.

he was always with you. during classes, lunch, he walked you to and from school. he was always holding doors open for you, offering his coat, holding your bag. it was hard not to fall in love with him.

you laughed as taehyun tried to skate across a small patch of ice. “don’t do it you’ll fall.” you giggled. he laughed too. “i got this don’t worry.” he took a running start and slid across successfully slipping and landing on his back with a thud. “oh my, taehyun i told you.” you ran up to him sticking a hand out to help him up. he grabbed your hand and pulled you down with him.

you landed on top of him. “taehyun.” you whined. the cold snow surrounding you too. taehyun’s cheeks were red and snowflakes were caught in his eyelashes. you rested your elbow by his head propping yourself above him. he looked so handsome in that moment. your heart was practically beating out of your chest. you prayed he couldn’t hear it.

all you wanted to do in that moment was kiss him. your fear of rejection and losing his friendship stopped you. instead you shoved snow in his face and rolled off of him. “ugh y/n.” he wiped his face off. you stood brushing the snow off your clothes. he groaned sitting up. “my back hurts now.” you laughed trying to shake off the feelings.

“i told you so.” he shoved you with his shoulder. “ha ha very funny now lets go get hot chocolate.” you smiled and followed the boy. one thing was certain that day. you loved the snow, hot chocolate, and taehyun.

taehyun pulled up to the party and parked across the street. he looked at you. “are you ready?” he asked. you nodded and got out of the car. the music was already pounding through the speakers. some people were already shit faced. a bubble of anxiety formed in your stomach. you truly hated parties. you were doing this for your friend and taehyun.

you followed taehyun into the house. he quickly found his other friends and you found the drink table. it was full of unrecognizable alcohol and some cases of beer. you settled on a spiked lemonade since it was a sealed can.

scanning the room your eyes found your friend. she was dancing in the living room. some of her friends around her. you mainly stuck back watching everything. you always hung back at parties. never the one to dance or get shit faced.

hours passed before the party seemed to start dying down. you found taehyun leaning against a wall so you made your way over. “this blows.” you said when you got close to him. he laughed while taking a drink of his beer. “yeah.” you followed his like of sight he was watching your friend dance.

it made the anxiety bubble back up in your stomach. you tried reassuring yourself taehyun isn’t that kind of guy.. he isn’t into girls like that. not that your friend wasn’t beautiful. she was. she was nice in most cases. she was a party girl, popular and outgoing. the opposite of taehyun.

“gather around everyone, playing truth or dare!” a girl screams. “that's so childish.” you whisper. taehyun downs the rest of his beer. “it could be fun, let's go.” your eyes widened and you followed him. he sat crisscrossed in the circle and you took the last seat available which was next to your friend across from taehyun.

there was about eight people in a circle. mostly all of them were black out drunk. a guy was dared to chug a beer mixed with some mystery liquid. a girl was dared to take her top off. everyone seemed to skip over you which you were grateful for.

you sort of spaced out until a drunk guy called taehyun. he looked towards the guy with a raised eyebrow. “truth or dare?” taehyun looked to be thinking before he shrugged. “dare.” the guy smirked. “i dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

the anxiety was back. your heart was racing. you watched taehyun’s movements carefully. he stood from his seat and walked towards your friend. he tilted her head back and captured her lips with his. you felt bile rise in your throat. cheers erupted from the other players.

you felt the tears well in your eyes watching them kiss. before they could fall you took off. you don’t know where you were going but anywhere but there sounded like a good start. you sat on a curb a few houses away. tears rolled down your cheeks. of course he kissed her.. who wouldn’t she was everything you weren’t. you thought he liked you too. all the acts of kindness, the years of friendship didn’t mean the same to him as they did to you.

positive no one noticed your departure you sat on that curb and cried. “y/n why’d you leave?” his voice sent a chill up your spine. you wiped your eyes and shrugged. “i needed air.” he chuckled. “you needed air five blocks away?” you sighed. “yeah.” he looked at you. “why are you crying?” you groaned. “why are you interrogating me?” you snapped.

he put his hands up. “you’re the one crying here, i’m just curious.” you mumbled. “i’m crying because of you.” taehyun’s eyebrows furrowed. “what?” you sighed. “i’m crying because of you.” he looked confused. “what did i do?” what did he do? he wasn’t your boyfriend. he didn’t do anything wrong. however your heart was still broken.

you were silent. “seriously y/n what did i do?” he was upset now. “you kissed her.” you said. taehyun sighed. “that’s why you’re mad? so it’s just a kiss.” you scoffed. “not just a kiss, one with the prettiest girl in the room.” you mocked the guy’s voice. taehyun rolled his eyes. “what did you want me to not kiss anyone?”

you stood up standing face to face with him. “i wanted you to kiss me!” you screamed. his eyes widened. “y/n..” he trailed off. you stuck your hand up. “i wanted the boy i love to kiss me and think i was the prettiest girl in the room. you broke my heart taehyun.”

he sighed. “y/n that’s..i’m sorry but i don’t like you like that. you’re pretty and stuff and you’re nice but..” “but i’m not her.” you finished. he sighed and tugged at his hair. “y/n please.” you shook your head. “no, it’s fine. i should’ve known better.”

with a heavy heart you began to walk in the direction of your dorm. “y/n don’t go.” he said. you didn’t even turn to look at him when he spoke. “it hurts to look at you.” was all you said before walking away from the boy you loved.

-

request! from anon <3

author’s note! i promise i write more than just angst but i hope you all enjoyeddddd

love, echo🖤

© jjunberry

[pretty-toru]

I saw a Satoru fanart where he was doing finger heart which is sooo cute 🥹 Can I ask for request? Like, Satoru's been annoying you all day but this time he just pissed you off that you're so close on getting mad at him but he suddenly gave you a finger heart which made you laugh on how corny he is and forget what you're mad about. Thank youuu

white hearts┆gojo satoru

୧ genre: fluff

୧ wc: 800+

୧ synopsis: gojo loves to annoy you (affectionately) and most of the time he could get away with it.

a/n: that fanart sounds so adorable! he'd 100% abuse the finger-heart gesture, I'm almost certain he would

There's never a dull moment with Satoru, and after many years together you have sorta learned to just go along with his playful mannerisms and questionable quirks. You usually don't mind it because you came to understand that him constantly hovering over you with no regard to boundaries is one of his ways of expressing his affection, especially when he's fully charged with a generous amount of love to give and can no longer suppress the swelling inside his chest.

Today just so happens to be one of those days where he has too much time on his hands and he doesn't know what to do with it, and what better way than to spend it with you? Even though you have your own agenda and responsibilities to uphold at Tokyo Tech, Satoru invites himself to accompany you because everything is more fun when you make it a two-person job. Which you realized soon enough that it was just an excuse to hang out with you all day.

You must admit that some of his methods of getting your attention when you're busy are somewhat comical, such as when you're taking a phone call and he's handing you random objects from around your office and you just accept it against your better judgment, casting him a rather confuse and dazed glare before setting it back to its rightful place. You figure that he picked up the prank on social media and wanted to try it out on you to gauge your reaction.

Another is when he's swiveling his chair around you while you're filling out paperwork and he's lightly prodding and tickling your side to elicit a small yelp from you, making you overly cautious and nervous to focus on your task at hand because you never know what his next move is. It makes him laugh when your body visibly stiffen as he reaches for the glass bowl of melon flavored hard candy, and he mockingly surrenders with the show of his hands that he only wants a treat.

As much as you love Satoru, you were getting seriously annoyed when there's seemingly no end to his constant teasings and schemes when you had deadlines to meet and having him around was getting you nowhere. The last thing you wanted was to get another earful from Yaga, so the only logical thing for you to do now is to kick your dear and beloved husband out. You stand abruptly which startles Satoru, interjecting the million and one thoughts he's been spewing into the void and pulling him up from where he's situated and leading him out the door.

"Satoru, honey, I absolutely love and adore you to pieces but you have to go."

"What? Whyyyy?" You didn't have to get a visual on him to know that he's pursing his bottom lip into a melodramatic pout as you're pushing him from behind. Although it took a little muscle because he can be effortlessly resilient with just his 190 cm stature alone, you managed to force him out into the corridor successfully without breaking a sweat.

"Because some of us have work to do! I'll just see you at home later, mkay? I'm sure you can keep yourself busy in the meantime." You press a soft peck against his jaw to establish that there are no hard feelings between you two and shut the door on him, but muffled sounds of protests and cries such as "Noooo, I promise I'll be good this time! I'll be so quiet — you wouldn't even know I'm there!" and "Please give me another chance, it's cold and lonely out here... And I miss you already!" can be heard through the barrier that's rudely standing in his way of you.

After some time had passed, silence ensues and you're finally able to continue your work without any more external distractions. Of course, you feel a little bad about temporarily banishing Satoru from your office but it simply had to be done. And speaking of the devil, you get a text notification from none other than Gojo Satoru himself with an embedded photo of a personal-size boxed cake from your favorite bakery sitting neatly outside your door.

You pull yourself upright to retrieve the decorative white box, glancing down both sides of the empty hallway to see if he could be spotted anywhere before returning to your desk. You notice a card attached to it and inside pertains a concise message "I'm sorry for upsetting you, Angel. Please don't divorce me. I love you 🤍" which draws a genuine smile to your face and a playful roll of your eyes. You text him back with a picture of his note and answer with, "I'm not going to divorce you over this, silly! Never even crossed my mind. I love you too, Satoru — Immensely, if I must add."

Without missing a beat, Satoru responds with a photo of himself posing a finger heart that instantly lifts any tension you had felt prior because you could never truly be angry with him no matter what. Your phone then pings when you receive another message and it reads,

"Got dinner covered. Hurry home so I can finally have you all to myself ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡"

[skylermadness]

Clouded Judgement (Vander TF/MC)

(Original Date of Upload: July 27, 2023)

Original Description:

I watched Arcane for the first time last week. Probably one of my favorite experiences in regards to media watching! So much happens in that show and it's just so satisfying to watch from so many angles, it's just hard to articulate perfectly how good it is. Inevitably this also meant Vander would become a mood for me. Big hairy dad with an Australian accent, that's basically the best bait one could have for me. Also meant that during my high of Arcane fixation I had to write a TF as soon as possible. Also helps that Furii threw in some interesting ideas I wanted to try and write out! Admittedly this is a TF that involves a first time for a lot of things in regards to my writing. Lots of moving parts in the TF segment and I believe this is my first time in full having some kind of gaseous trigger. Unfortunately I think I ran out of ideas as to how to really handle the concept towards the end, since I realize I actually wasn't fully sure how I wanted to do the MC and what I wanted to do for the actual post-TF segment. So in the end I do feel like the mental aspects fall a bit short and things definitely fizzle out towards the end. I feel like I could've done better with the final scenes but in the end this story was written with no outline and very little direction. Plus I can always revisit it later and fix it. But for the time being I'm at least 90% satisfied with the end result enough to share it out. Plus I am relatively proud of the TF segment itself. Anyway, watch Arcane.

   Flames. Smoke. Oranges and grays… light was shrouded behind the thickening smoke.

   That's all his hazy, blurry vision can see. He can't even tell if he's looking up, down, or to the sides. Is something overhead? And… wasn't he supposed to be doing something… 

   There is a certain level of pain coursing through him as well. Multiple sharp pierces in his back like shards of glass had embedded into his skin. His spine felt bent, and his nervous system felt like it was in a numb overdrive. An even sharper, stronger pain was in his abdomen; stabbing into his gut and radiating the pain throughout the region. All the while he could feel more spots of suffering around his face than he could count. Then there was the setting in of fatigue, a feeling akin to getting off some kind of adrenaline rush.

   The smell of smoke mixed with the smell of his own blood. He could taste his blood too, and he could swear some more of it was crawling its way both up and down his throat.

   Where was he? Who was he? What was he doing?

   A sense of urgency panged in his chest. Like he had to do something. He had to move faster, he had to…

   A finger twitched, he moved his arm closer to something. He could detect something cylindrical near his hand. He had to grab it, it was his only chance.

   A low grunt emanated from his throat as he swallowed a lump of fluid. Pain, urgency, danger. Pain, urgency, danger. The same three feelings circling through his mind, his body, his everything. 

   His finger grazed metal and glass. Something seems to enter him from there. Some kind of final rush that starts his heart back up again. The hand grasped onto the cylinder and the man almost instantly pulled it towards his mouth. He wasn't sure when or how he had opened it, but all the movements were so fast that it felt like he had instantly started consuming whatever fluid was in the object.

   He wanted to regurgitate it. The taste was atrocious, the feeling of it oozing down his throat was repulsive.

   But it all passed as in an instant everything in his body ran into overdrive.

   His heart beat faster, faster, faster, the rate was getting inhuman. He could feel his muscles cramping, bulging outwards, a chorus of rips piercing from his shirt as his body was forced larger and larger. Breathing deepened, low and dying becoming rampant and growling. Monstrous.

   A purple glow rushed through his veins, running higher and higher up his body before it reached his face. The last sound he heard is metal and glass crunching in his hand as his eyes were forced open.

   His eyes were forced open…

   His eyes were…

   …forced open.

   Ashton groaned, body leaning forward in his bus seat while he rubbed his head. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to dispel the grogginess in them while taking in just where he was. Window beside him, sparse amounts of people in seats in front and behind him. Bus, evening, getting home from work…

   He sighed. "Shit, I missed my stop didn't I…"

   Eyes trailed upwards to look at the street display board, an act which only reaffirmed that statement. He was roughly seven or eight stops behind where he was supposed to get off to get home. Disappointed, he pulls the cord on the wall beside him which causes a soft ding to play out before an automated voice says, "Stop requested!"

   He then hauled up the satchel that sat beside him and stood up, walking his way towards the front of the bus so he could get off. All the while he had two thoughts in his mind. The first thought was that of plans to try to get home in a timely manner. Bus lines were rotating around his mind as he tried to come to some kind of conclusion as to what to take and where. 

   The other thought was of that dream he just awoke from. Of the visceral, realistic feelings it spurred. Of the strangeness of it. Of the meaning behind it. Why did he get it? What did it signify? Why did it feel so real? He could still smell the smoke. Taste the blood.

   "It's not real…" he muttered to himself as he turned to walk off the now stopped bus.

   The sky was a mix of a calming blue and burning orange, Ashton flinching slightly as it entered his peripherals. He chose to ignore it though, preferring to get a good look at the surroundings of this bus stop. The street was noticeably divided. One set of towering buildings and streets was on the side Ashton was on; meanwhile the opposing side had a different set, only reachable if you tried to hop into the rounded drainage ditch that cleaved the area in half. Or you could just walk over the bridge that was off to the side.

   He hummed to himself. He'd have to cross the bridge in order to reach the bus stop that would allow him to ride in the opposing direction back home, but that would be annoying since the stops in that direction are different from the stops going forward. He could also try to just walk home since he was only six or seven stops off, but the city's above ground infrastructure was annoying to traverse to say the least.

   He eyed the ends of the street for a few seconds, then crossed it to reach the sidewalk on the other side. It was evidently railed off thanks to the existence of the drainage ditch, but that didn't stop him from casually leaning over the railing to look into it. With the exception of a pitifully miniscule stream of water in the middle of it, the ditch was effectively void of liquid. His eyes trailed towards the two massive holes that were beneath the bridge nearby, the man casually thinking about how the sewer system the ditch drained into was barren as well.

   Come to think of it, there was a similar ditch near his apartment.

   Ashton's eyes widened as an idea formed in his head that instance. The city's sewer system likely wasn't the most convoluted network. It would probably be a simple walk in, take a right turn, walk out. The biggest problem would probably be the lighting, but…

   He fished his phone out of his back pocket. Twenty five percent. It was probably not enough for a sewer trek, but he assured himself he'd only be in there for ten minutes. It'd be fine… 

   …

   His reassurances didn't really work and he could tell this was a risky idea. But sometimes your city's infrastructure makes roaming around the sewer sound more appealing than actually walking around the surface.

   He idly thought to himself 'What's the worst that'd happen?' as he jumped the railing and slid into the drainage ditch. Even then he was only mildly confident in this idea as a whole…

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

   Ten percent.

   If Ashton's presumptions were correct he might've been down here for thirty minutes. He could've sworn he wasn't lost, especially since he only took a single right turn towards what he would presume to be the drainage system closest to his apartment. And yet he felt like he was walking down the exact same tunnel for ages.

   The tunnel also looked nothing like he would have presumed one to look. It was just a concrete cylinder with a few pipes lining the sides and ceilings. Every so often he'd find himself walking past a large grated opening, although he wasn't sure if it was the same pipe every time or just a different one on the exact same side. At the very least this place wasn't completely flooded…

   His steps continued to echo through the tunnel as he walked. His shoes have garnered a substantial amount of grime as they stepped in the extremely small stream that endlessly trailed down the pipe. And evidently the only source of light he had was from his phone. At the very least nothing could come up from in front of him, especially with the intense luminescence of his flashlight.

   Nine percent.

   "Perhaps it's not too late to walk back," he grumbled to himself. Now he was realizing just how stupid an idea this was. He probably would be home by now had he not taken this 'shortcut'. "Stupid, stupid, stupid-"

   His annoyed sighs echo through the tunnel as well. At least the smell wasn't as repugnant as he would have expected, but it was still pretty terrible. And he was still alone. Just him, the dark, and his thoughts. He then stopped for a moment to lean onto the rounded concrete wall of the tunnel. Walking for so long non-stop was doing a number on his legs. 

   He considered just calling an emergency service before his phone could have the chance to conk out. It would be embarrassing to have to explain that he got himself lost in the city's drainage tunnels, but it also beats being stuck here for days on end. And… "Urgh, is the smell getting worse…?"

   Just the faint smell of sewage fluid and… smoke?

   "Wha…?" he raised his phone up and looked around both ends of the tunnel. Lo and behold in the direction he was heading towards was a small plume of smoke billowing from another tunnel that seemed to connect to the one he was in. It was faint, almost blending in with the darkness, yet it still stood out against the shine of his phone's flashlight.

   There was also no light emanating from the smoking tunnel.

   Against his better judgment Ashton quickly rushed towards the tunnel opening. Shining the light into the tunnel all he found was the same concrete walls, except with a small stream of smoke at the ceiling. The tunnel's end still had the void of darkness as well …

   …it couldn't be like that dream, can it?

   He took a step forward, and another.

   It couldn't have. There was evidently a fire in it.

   Another step, and another.

   Glass. Pain. He didn't even feel like himself in it. It felt like visions or the memories of someone else.

   His steps continued to echo again as he followed the small stream of smoke. Although it wasn't long until the slightness of it was changing and the stream steadily got thicker the more he pressed forward.

   The smoke of a flame was different. Pungent, disgusting, awful. In truth, this smoke smelled vile as well. But it wasn't the same as fires. It was reminiscent of something else.

   And yet his fear couldn't easily be quashed by such a notion. So much unfamiliarity, so much strangeness. It was evident nothing was right. And yet, Ashton remained curious.

   But was it true curiosity, or was it a compulsion…?

   It didn't seem to matter. The stream grew thicker, and the light began to reach a wall that only scattered and obscured it. The source of the smoke, he had presumed. And he still continued to step forward.

   He wants to investigate further.

   In an instant the smoke consumed him. He's surrounded in it, the dense grays and blacks layering around and onto him. His eyelids flicker as he tries to blink it out his eyes, and he can't stop himself from inhaling it. Strangely though, he doesn't cough. The smoke entering his body seems to get absorbed into it once it reaches his lungs. Almost as if it was becoming a part of him. This only caused his brain to grow foggy.

   The haze entering his mind caused him to steadily lower his hand, the light from the phone slowly moving further and further down. After a few seconds the light would be snuffed out, darkness falling into the entirety of the tunnel. The last tangible sound he hears is the echo that emanated from his phone hitting the concrete floor of the tunnel. Everything enters a pitch black haze after that, and Ashton was left unaware of just what the smoke was doing to him.

   In the dark there was a subtle slight swirling of smoke that seemed to spiral around his hands and arms. Dense dark vapors circled around both limbs, the constant whirling forcing changes in the areas that he had been left unaware of. The first was that in his hands, the smoke seeming to practically massage them both and force their size larger. Stretching them out more both horizontally, vertically, steadily growing with each passing second. At the same time there was a thickness settling into them, a sizable bulk being compounded as the muscle and bone within them was getting beefier.

   There was a concurrent set of alterations that was settling into each finger of his hands as well. At first they were thin and narrow, but with the increase in volume that was settling into Ashton’s hands it was causing them to get thicker as well. Meatiness being forced into each finger; density getting more pronounced and replacing their original thinness. Lengthening and thickening, getting all chunky. Almost powerful in a way. The tips of each finger seemed to blunt too, nails garnering a duller end as the man's hands garnered a more brutish appearance.

   That supposed brutish appearance was only enhanced as the constant flow of smoke added another layer to all the changes. A slight darkness was etched into his skin, the softness of both the front and back of his hands getting altered as a layering of aging was accumulating across them. Backs of each hand getting more weathered, dirty, scarred. A slight hardness formed across sections of his palms at the same time, the beginnings of calluses forming in the area above the dorsal transverse.

   The aging had also already quickly reached his arms, easily being accompanied by a slight layering of hair steadily sprouting down the back of each of them. Beneath it all came the bulking that had transitioned beyond his wrists and onto his forearms. A certain level of thickness etched into his lower arms, flexors and extensors both growing in tandem as the muscularity of the regions was getting further emphasized well beyond what they used to be. All a hard layer of strength, a heavy sturdiness constantly getting compounded as the muscles continued growing in size.

   His upper arms weren’t left behind as they too gained a drastic increase in musculature. By now the transformation had already reached beneath the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, but that didn’t allow them to be beyond the reach of the swirling fog that continued to fill his body with rapidly manifesting strength. Biceps getting bulkier, triceps ever increasing alongside them concurrently. It wouldn’t take very long for the creases that divided his muscles to begin to etch into the fabric of his sleeves. This happened more and more as time went on and more muscles bloated; deltoids swelling outwards while his shoulders broadened and increased in size. 

   At this point the small wisps of smoke had been getting more plentiful in their constant swirling around Ashton,small drags seemingly now starting to circle the man’s torso. Although by now everything had just gone numb for the man. He couldn’t tell if he was walking or standing still, he couldn’t hear and he definitely couldn’t see beneath the dense haze of eigengrau that had now consumed his vision. The ability to think was being greatly hindered at this point as well. It was almost like the smoke had clogged up his brain, dense and dazing him out.

   All he could really feel was… warmth. A warmth entering his arms, a warm in his chest. It was starting to make him sweat a bit. He let out a grunt, the sound falling onto deaf ears as he raised one of his massive hands up to his chest. His very core was heating up, and there was an odd feeling of squeezing in his upper torso. Everything was starting to just feel… tight. Evidently that may be in part because of the swelling his chest was beginning to undergo. The influence of the smoke evidently had moved to that area now, prompting the muscles in the region to steadily push forward.

   A crease had started to form in the middle of his shirt, subtle at first but slowly growing as his chest only continued to grow out more. Both pectorals were swelling, thickening in size more with each second that passed. The collar of his shirt got tighter as well as his body was forced wider, the size of it stretching larger and wider. As heat continued to bombard the internals of his pecs, meat amassing more and more, a small layer of fat was accrued in the area at the same time. This was accompanied by a dusting of chest hair forming, coarse in texture and brown in coloration. It also wouldn't be long until that light dusting got increasingly thicker in density as well.

   The hairs then started to trail down the man's midline, creeping downwards towards his navel at a steady pace. As it dusted across the skin of his abdomen, a churning emerged from within it as well. The region rippled, muscles bubbling and hardening as that area followed in the sudden garnering of muscularity. Abs slowly rising up from the once flat area, slotting outwards row by row until he was graced with a six pack. This new musculature would almost instantly begin to indent itself into his shirt, the tightness of it perfectly outlining his new form. 

   However this would be followed by a softness entering the area, the newly formed muscles quickly getting consumed by fat that accumulated rapidly. It wasn't an enormous amount of fat though, only garnering enough to smooth out the abdominal region by a small margin and give his muscles a softer appearance, but still would keep them visible.

   By now Ashton's breathing was quickening, causing the smoke to get inhaled into his lungs at a more rapid pace. Was it getting… familiar? Ugh, it was hard to tell. Hard to think. He just wanted to…

   While one hand was grabbing onto his chest, his other hand had started to grab at the neck of his shirt. He idly tugged on it in an attempt to relieve the tightness to any degree. His shirt had already seemed to be undersized, with his chest squeezing against the fabric of it to a point that his now deep cleavage was indented into the material. The bulky, meaty shelf that consisted of his two pecs constantly pushing at the front of the shirt, and his wider frame tugging at the sides. There was an almost primal urge amassing in his mind to just rip it apart. An urge that was getting more persistent with time, more annoying.

   He continued to tug at the neck of his shirt, and by now he had gone to grab at the portion that laid on his chest. The big, meaty fingers were gripping into the fabric more and more. The urge to rip it apart growing stronger and strong until-

   Shrrp!

   His shirt was partially torn down the middle. His massive pecs were finally allowed to breathe, and the smoke grazed his skin properly. Aging it more, causing more hairs to sprout upon it with bits of gray beginning to speckle it. He was breathing heavily with both his mouth and his nose, the smell and taste of the vapor assaulting his sense of taste and smell at the exact same time. But he didn't seem to care much about that.

   A hand loosened its grip on the fragment of torn clothing before ultimately disregarding it, letting the tattered remains just loosely hang off his torso. The hand just drifted back onto his chest instead. Drifted and… squeezed. Hard. For a moment his face tensed, teeth grinding together as the hand embraced the pectoral. But everything softened as he felt just how… squishy it was. How pleasurable it was just groping his own chest like this. Rubbing the hand around the pec, grazing a nipple, feeling the hairs beneath the palm of his hand. The warmth, the softness, the almost arousing feeling it gave him to commit such an act.

   The only way he could describe his mind now would be… melting? Thoughts vanished beneath the haze that perpetuated around his brain. All he could feel was emotions from his own acts. And yet everything still felt dulled. It didn't really feel like he existed in this space despite the smoke seeming to interact with him. Spiral around him, bombard him. All he could really determine was his own sense of self, which in and of itself felt shrouded. 

   He failed to stifle a moan from exiting his mouth as he continued to grope his chest. He could at least feel himself. The sweat slowly moving down his face and body, the low heat constantly erupting in his form. The constant pressing of his hand against his skin, the feeling of the smoke rolling across his form. 

   His throat itched. It might've been from the smoke, it could've easily been from something else. If Ashton still had enough consciousness to hear what's around him, he'd probably hear his breathing begin to deepen. The pitch and tone lowering more and more as he was feeling himself up. A husky gravelliness etching into it as the constant breathing of smoke seemed to slowly age his own voice. All the while his neck was thickening, head steadily growing alongside it.

   At the same time the changes were already transitioned downwards as well. The button of his jeans starting to strain against his now wider waist, the effect of the smoke having now reached his lower body. A tightness in his pants burgeoned, and it only increased further with each passing second as growth was formulating beneath his waist.

   This was first evident behind him with the seat of his jeans filling out. His rear was bloating, fat filling up the cheeks while his gluteus muscles expanded. A sizable amount of padding was what got added, overall rounding out his ass into a plump thickness.

   At the same time a bulkiness was being added to his legs. The upper portion of his legs was first, thighs growing thicker with the constant addition of muscle being added to them. The seams of his legwear already began to rip against his maturing hamstrings and quadriceps, the opposing swellings pulling his jeans apart at the sides. A few hairs also poked out the holes, a noticeable hairiness sprouting across his legs and cascading downwards.

   The crus of his legs practically burned, his calves swelling and bulging outwards in an instantaneous workout. The ends of his jeans started to run upwards as the bones of the limbs extended longer, some more inches being added to the man's height rapidly. More and more tears formed across the legwear, the continuously growing hairs progressing more and more downwards as the changes became shrouded beyond and beneath his footwear.

   The toecaps of his shoes started to slightly bulge, toes already beginning to push up against the ends of it as both his feet were forced to grow in size. These changes were practically the same as those on his hands; skin garnering the weathered look to it while an extremely light coat of hair was pressing further down the feet and towards his toes. His footwear progressively got smaller and smaller as portions of his feet constantly dug into the material. Heels pushed against the backs while the sides of his feet were doing the same with the sides of his shoes. By now as the bridge of his feet raised thanks to the thickening of both appendages his shoes began to pull apart, toes moving further and further to the point where they might as well break through the material. Rips and cracks pierced the air more and more as the shifts in size continued more and more until it all came to a crescendo. Blunt toes busting out the toe caps, moving forward more as they progressed an inch or two beyond the edge of the sole. Laces were torn apart, cloth splitting more as more portions of his feet were finally given the space to breathe. 

   Speaking of breathing, his own was seeming to be getting labored in a way. All these physical changes, all this haze in his head, it felt so tiring. Although that could easily be a factor from all the smoke he's inhaling. It was practically enough to replace any oxygen he would have preserved. And yet he continued, the taste and smell of the vapor constantly growing in familiarity even more as the changes progressed.

   You'll get used to it…

   Well, he already was wasn't he?

   "Nmgh, fuck…" he groaned out. The first sound he's properly hearing. His voice got so deep, so… accented. Mature, masculine, gruff, and powerful.

   "How'd it get this… dense…"

   He raised his head and looked forward. At least the smoke seemed to be slowly dissipating. He could see faint lights through the fog. Not the light of a flame, seemed way too… colored for that.

   He pulled the hand that was on his chest away from it and raised it up to his face, pressing the massive thing hard onto the side of it. He had to get out of this practically intoxicated haze he was in… And then he began to idly scratch at his face. An itch was setting into it, said itch followed by the feeling of hairs pricking against the tips of his fingers.

   Deep gray hairs were steadily growing down his face, seeming to have started at the tips of his sideburns and moving down the sides of his jaw. They were delegated to the furthest sides of his jaw for a bit, however as they grew closer to the chin the thickness of the newly sprouting beard got more prominent. Dense fuzz rolling across the lower halves of his jaw, maintaining that as they got closer towards the lowest point of his face. At the same time segments of graying hairs were stretching around and above his mouth, a thick and stubbly mustache being formulated by the new growth.

   The feeling of all this fuzz on his seemed to activate another weird urge within the changing man's mind. Scratching steadily shifted to rubbing, letting all the hairs brush against his palm as his mind was overwhelmed with the urge to feel up his beard. Feel up his… face?

   His originally unoccupied other hand soon followed, the man squishing the sides of his face. All of this seemed to cause another swatch of changes, the sensual rubbing appearing to practically sculpt his face beneath his hands. His jawline steadily chiseled out, chin growing flatter as the roundness faded into something more masculine and hard. The overall shape of his head was altered beneath his palms, growing out to be wider and more rectangular.

   His facial features were evidently altering as well. Skin getting older and more weathered as age was settling upon them. Nose broadened out more as the tip got flatter, and the bridge wider. The front ends of his eyebrows bushed while the back ends tapered out. Even more signs of age etched around his eyes as noticable bags formed beneath them, wrinkles around them. All the while the ends of his hairline receded until he had a slight M-shape indented into it.

   His hair itself wasn't left unchanged either as it slowly grew out a bit, darkening to a deep brown coloration as they did. The style was shifting into a more swept back appearance as the follicles lengthened out behind him, although they only got long enough to graze his upper neck. Either way, they had gotten longer than they were before with many bits of them sticking together and causing a look of thickness to form within his hair. There were also portions that stuck up slightly above other portions, bits that curled towards the end, all of which gave a slight messiness towards the ends of his hair. Last came the sprinkling of grays that formed in the portions of hair at his temples.

   A shock of bright blue entered his irises, a headache growing more and more prominent in his head. The smoke was getting less and less dense, although his mind and vision both remained hazy. Thoughts and memories were hard to formulate, his sense of self feeling like it was muddled and shifted beneath the fog that perpetuated in his brain. He would panic, but the smoke deadens it. The smoke deadens everything, the chemicals within it altering his own brain chemistry to a capacity. How much had he inhaled? He usually tried not to inhale enough to get this high. That felt like such a foreign thought, and yet it felt right.

   His breathing continued, each inhale forcing more smoke into him. Of course with it all spiraling around him and constantly pushing into his skin with age, forcing itself into his very form whenever it can, the density of the vapor was progressively getting less and less prevalent. The lights on the other end were becoming more visible, familiarity yet again creeping into the man's mind as they did so. Of course his body wasn't the only thing the smoke seemed to pelt with itself as the ashes finally started settling on his clothing.

   The density of his shirt steadily increased as the smoke got into the threads, the material shifting from soft to hard as it evidently shifted into leather. At the same time it was also changing color, deepening into a dark brown. The size of his shirt increased as well, and the rip that he had made seemed to extend further downwards in the middle until it hit the shirt's hem. The torn segment rippled as it appeared to smooth out and fix itself, shifting more into a proper split of something like a jacket. This was further exemplified by a small, flat collar blooming from the former shirt's neck. All the while a mostly white undershirt manifested beneath the jacket, his chest hidden again from the world as the newly formed and noticeably baggy attire covered it.

   His jeans were the next part to extend, sliding back down his legs while the tears at the sides sewed back up as if nothing happened. There still seemed to be a slight tightness within the jeans, but it wasn't uncomfortably so. Furthermore was the addition of a larger, darker blue patch that stitched itself to the legwear's right side. Meanwhile, manifesting out of nowhere was a metallic looking pauldron that strapped itself above his right knee. Similar 'accessories' seemed to appear around his body shortly after; such as a leather cuff forming around his left wrist and tightly holding onto it, and a thick and snug leather waist belt manifesting on the lower end of his abdomen.

   The last bit of clothing that had alterations was his shoes. His toes were consumed by the toecaps once again as the footwear started to increase in size. The damage done by his massive feet was easily getting reversed, the cloth fixing itself before shifting into hard leather. The soles of the shoes thickened, the now larger toecap got covered with metal, and the topline was increasing rapidly until it was nestled halfway up the crus of his legs. Any form of lacing was consumed by the leather, the newly changed boots seeming to mostly be smooth with only a few interruptions found within the material.

   All of those changes had caused the smoke to thin out even more, and it was only getting thinner with each passing second. With each breath that the man took. The world around him steadily grew more and more visible, the deep haze fading away into what seemed to be a dingy alley in the Lanes.

   Urgh, how did he know where this was?

   Such a question felt inane after just a few seconds. Of course he'd know where this was, he… lives here? There's a hint of doubt in that notion. There's doubt in a lot of notions really, but the fog within his brain wouldn't let it go. His mind was getting filled with conflicts. Conflicts between his interests, his personality, his age, his identity-

   "Need to cut back on the smoking…" he groaned before idly leaning on a wall of a random building that sandwiched this alleyway. A part of him was surprised it didn't curve inward, but the thought vanished just as quickly as it appeared.

   Still, more thoughts cropped up. That wasn't his voice, was it? And he never smoked, did he…? The more he questioned it the more the inquiries didn't feel right anymore. Constant thoughts of wondering what's right and what's wrong with him slowly but surely getting buried under a single notion.

   That notion was he must've been high as fuck.

   He used the wall as a crutch of sorts as he steadily inched forwards a bit more. The blurriness of the lights ahead had mostly been put into clarity, the man immediately calling forth the name 'The Last Drop'. Although a nagging feeling in the back of his mind was already being tipped off that something was off about it, but with the persistent fog in his mind it was hard to concisely trust that feeling in full right now.

   He turns away, fully leaning on the wall with his back now. Slowly but surely the feeling that this body was his was finally setting in. Any unfamiliarity or weirdness that came with it subsided as it practically felt like the connection between his body, mind, and soul was finally being forced properly. It made the density of the haze in his mind a little less prevalent, even if it still remained.

   Vander. At least he could still remember his name. A low, gruff chuckle escaped his throat. "Ain't that high yet…"

   Although he knew he never smoked this much. All he had to do was dredge up whatever memory existed that explained just how he got here.

   For that second the haze lifted as if to appeal to his demand. A small door that opened within his mind, although it was enough to inadvertently release a flood. Something in his face drained as the high stupor faded in an instant.

   Flames…

[fandomsbyladymelodrama]

No pressure on this, but I wanted to ask if you'd like to tell me about one of/some of your favorite Christy scenes, and the things you like most about it/them? I can't singlehandedly revive the fandom on here, but it's such a joy to talk over this show with other fans!

I didn't realize until recently how thoroughly the Neil/Christy relationship informed my romantic preferences in all the media and writing I've done since watching it in my teens. Older, scholarly man/younger, determined woman, some kind of angst in the man's past, a need to change things for the better as an intrinsic part of the woman's character, a taboo element that stands in the way of the relationship... Even in the slash pairings I love so much, there's still so many elements of it!

Hey filmmakers, don't think we don't notice that you frame these two with Christy on a step/incline half the time to de-emphasize the height difference...

Oh my, oh my. Okay, first, let's be real. I've been waiting for an ask like this since 1994 (baby Tumblr wasn't even born yet 😂) so get ready for some major Neil/Christy feels that I've been suppressing but also diligently-tending-in-the-background for 30+/- years. THEY. ARE. PERFECT. Top-shelf OTP bottle, for sure. You understand, right? Of course, you do. We've discussed. But yeah, I feel the same way about this show/book/pairing influencing and informing both my writing style and romantic preferences in fiction over the years. Happy to admit it. Yes *raises hand* 1000 times yes. Hello, my name is ladymelodrama, and the fact that CBS so cruelly stole resolution for Neil/Christy from us forever (I'm not counting the PAX movies, I'm just not) is a crime against good television everywhere and will haunt my Christy-loving bones until I'm dead and buried in the ground deep enough so's the critter's can't find me, as Little Burl or Creed Allen would say. Anyway, you asked about Neil and Christy and favorite moments and since I can't just pick one...

I have a proposition to make :) Let's trade fave moments until we run out of them, maybe? No pressure, of course, but this is me mostly unwilling to commit to my Top 5 Scenes until I finish my rewatch, and even then I'll probably change my mind a couple times 😂 But here's one that I'll discuss in detail today and which I like to call the "Will This Do?" scene aka "and then they both smiled their little smiles at each other and lived happily ever after. The end." <3

(Credit to @heatherfield for this gif, and bless you, friend, for continuously shipping the same pairings as me - makes my gif-hunting so much easier haha <3)

So why do I love this scene so much? Oh, you know. Margret's dress. Objectively, it's gorgeous (the woman had style, even if she had no heart). And hey, it only coded Neil/Christy as endgame from the first episode, no big deal. Plus it was one of the softest moments in the whole show and THE WAY THEY SMILED AT EACH OTHER. Ugh. Soffffffft. I'm mean, you're seeing this too, right? ;) Meanwhile, I'm sure David is over here in the corner...doing what David does best XD Lurking. Always lurking.

(and, based on the pic I chose, maybe taking notes on how to have better chemistry with Christy? - "Dear Diary, Neil MacNeill is kinda the worst, have I mentioned?" 😂) But in all seriousness, what I love about that scene (and the exchange of smiles, in particular) is how there's an honest-to-goodness, my-spirit-just-spoke-to-your-spirit bit of humanity happening there. I die for those moments, little and quiet as they may be. It's just so...SOFT. They don't know each other yet. Not really. There's no romance at play (other than what I assume might be mutual physical attraction, even if Christy would never let herself go there. Not on her first days in the Cove) so it's more a budding friendship that we're seeing and friends-to-lovers is one of my favorite things? (Jorleesi, Jisbon, Siegfried/Audrey, Obidala, Red Cricket, Dickon/Mary much?). I also really enjoy when she comes down the stairs looking all pretty-in-lavender with her hair down (still lolling at your comment on that detail btw because...c'est vrai 😂) and "Oh no, David, it's so late...how will we ever get to Lufty Branch in time?" "Not we, Christy." (exactly, David, you're getting it). Too bad she has to spend all afternoon in this rustic cabin with a plaid-shirted, barrel-chested, brogue-speaking, moody mountain man with inside pain for dayssssss. Oh the everlasting horror XD

So yeah, so much to love about this scene (and the entire convo in the cabin afterwards and him plucking her from Theo prior to the whole dress thing - guy helps girl down from horse = I'm in love 😍). To witness the very beginning of their arc (okay, Part II of the beginning, but the doctor was busy with brain surgery during Part I, so you know what I mean) and to have the actors play it so, so beautifully and in an Appalachian setting that's just misty and magical and to die for all by itself... Mmmm *chef's kiss* Your turn, @darsynia <3

[endlich-allein]

Have you seen Schneider's Instagram post? What do you think about it?

Yes of course I saw Schneider's post. I have read it very carefully and I'll tell you what I think, as objectively and honestly as possible. I specify that I will not return to this, no need to send me asks or dm, to comment or reblog. Thank you for your understanding.

First of all, I'm glad Schneider spoke. At last, one of the members speaks with an open heart, and I expected no less from the most outspoken of the guys at Rammstein. We know that they have all been affected by what has been happening in recent weeks. We are too. I personally experienced it very badly, and social networks have contributed enormously to my mental suffering, my only safe place is here on my blog. (I'll not return to the dangers of social networks, to the fact that everyone speaks out on everything, that people are accusers, lawyers, judges and executioners, forgetting one of the principles of any justice worthy of the name : the presumption of innocence. This is not the subject but take care of yourself, if you feel the need to move away, do it, think of yourself). I'm not even talking to you about the media, which go completely out of my mind. I studied journalism, I was taught ethics, the fact of always checking everything and sourcing everything. But it seems that selling paper, buzzing and "breaking" the rich and famous is more important... afterwards they are surprised that people no longer have confidence in them.

As a reminder, there is an official investigation opened by the German public services and an internal investigation of the band. It's necessary for everyone to await the results of these investigations before drawing any conclusions whatsoever.

About Schneider's text, I am like him, saddened by the fact that there may be people who have bad times durant concerts (before and after too). It should be a time of joy, sharing and union, with a safe environment. "Bad times" is an understatement, the charges are serious. Band parties have always been safe to me. And some of you shared with me funny or very good experiences that you had during these parties or during moments shared with Till. But it seems other people don't agree. We are all different and we all have our own limitations. I feel sorry for those people who don't seem to have found support in an uncomfortable situation. Alas.

I can't deny that this last years Till seems to have lost his way. He has surrounded himself with people who are not good for him. I don't know if he realizes it or not, but I hope for his own good that he'll reconnect with those who truly love him, those who care about him, those who no matter what. happens will be there for him. I don't want to infantilize him or take away any responsibility for what is happening. Till is an adult, responsible for his actions and choices. From what Schneider says, it's Till's will to do these parties. And you know perfectly well what I think of that, I have already had the opportunity to tell you this many times, I am against it and I think it should have been deleted a long time ago.

In this story, no one will come out grown up. Not the band, not Till, not the groupies, not even us the fans, not the media, absolutely no one. That makes me sad. I madly love Till and Rammstein, this whole story is breaking my heart. I hope, however, that the band will manage to tell each other things, in a frank and honest way. They have built a lot of things together, starting with a long-standing friendship. It must count ! They must do what is necessary to change what needs to be changed and continue to move in the same direction.

While awaiting the results of the investigations, I continue to love and support Till and Rammstein, with all my soul.

[the-ethereal-lorestar]

Meta Writing/Literary Analysis, Fandoms & Gushing about TJLC Explained

Those of you who wrote meta for your fandoms, wrote fanfiction, and made fanart, I am inspired by you. I watched a series of YouTube videos about someone dedicating their channel to one show that they love and analyzing it. It made me think about some literary analysis papers I made while studying in college.

I'm a procrastinator. I don't have any papers that I haven't done at the last minute while studying in college for my English degree. Usually, I'm not proud of the papers I made, although I made good grades on them. I wonder if I wouldn't feel so bad on the papers I wrote if I hadn't procrastinated? Most likely.

These are some topics I wrote about. I plan on rewriting them in the future, but how long that will take is beyond me. I have an idea, but it would be interesting to know how many people are most interested in which topic.

Topics:

Is Shakespeare sexist or feminist?

Why do I like the Movie Howl's Moving Castle when people around me are confused by it?

(I don't quite remember the topic exactly) Study of the Dystopian Genre with Larissa Lai's Salt Fish Girl

Homeschool, and why it's better then public school | How Public School could've Affected my Growth

Some info on these topics:

The first topic on my list was a set theme from a premade list by my teacher. I found it interesting for the fact that when I read Shakespeare I was getting mixed signals by his views. I found a paper that I could've added to the paper, but I couldn't 'cause procrastination.

The second point on this list is when I realized that although I loved these movies, my immediate family and other people close to me were confused by the movie? It was a exploration on my standards in the media I interact with. I usually go with the potential of the thing rather then if the actual thing is good. Is the movie Howl's Moving Castle objectively good?

The third point on the list is the testament of my burn out from going to college. I couldn't focus on anything I wanted to. Let alone read the dystopian classics within a week. This paper is where I want to circle back to the most, because the book Salt Fish Girl, became one of my favorite books, and the topic is fascinating to me.

The last point is self-explanatory. I used this book about homeschooling in high school and found a lot of good stuff in there. I also went back to the topic while I was in college. I envy the people who was so into the media and subjects they loved, and looked to how I was taught growing up to see if I could've been like my peers if I had been in a different school setting.

Unfinished Topics and Literary Analysis in the Future:

What YouTube channel inspired me to write this post, design a blog, and want to write my own Meta in the future for fandoms I enjoy?

TJLC explained

YEARS too late finding this channel, but I'm still glad I came across it. Was a sort of dramatic irony, watching her channel after the fact of series 4 of BBC Sherlock (for those who don't know, TJLC is "The JohnLock Conspiracy" for having Sherlock Holmes and John Watson actually be endgame).

Despite this, even if they never came back for her retrospective after series 4 aired, I still would've found her analysis spectacular. I don't think it mattered that it was "wrong" (for those who watched it understand why I put this in quotations, for those who don't, watch her videos, it's worth it), but how well executed it was.

I adored how they included mirrors, parallel's, symbolism. I mean, there were a lot, lol. It made me think about writing in symbolism differently. It's like a how-to video on writing subtext and exploring characters and symbolism. The phone stands for the heart!!!

I had no idea that there was meta for the theories of TJLC. I never heard of essays of fan theories referred to as "Meta" before. After I finished the videos, and read their fix-it fic (I'm pretty sure it could be considered a fix-it fic, she re-wrote series 4), I thought about my unpolished papers.

Here's the fic they wrote, if anyone is interested:

I'm hoping that making my blog on Wix would help me kick myself in gear into doing these things. Maybe a different environment could help. I dunno why, but for some reason I'm convinced of this. In three weeks, May 15th, I'll give an update. Whatever helps.

[killian-whump]

Honestly kinda wanna throttle some folks on Instagram right now.

Like, I don’t recognize any of the names, so I don’t know what neck of the woods these folks wandered out of... I guess they’re Instagram fans? Is that even a thing? Like, if we’re Tumblr fans... and then there’s Twitter fans... these are... Insta fans? I guess?

Anyway...

I want to throttle them, whoever they are.

I mean, look, I get it. Roasting your fave is lots of fun, given the right opportunity and knowing that fave is cool with it and laughing with you at whatever boneheaded thing they’ve done.

This isn’t... any of those things???

Like, who thinks a heartfelt RIP post about a recently deceased fashion designer that dressed Colin for a few major events is a good place to make jokes of any kind??? Doesn’t even matter what the jokes are about or whose expense they’re being made at. It’s just fucking uncouth.

Secondly, Colin isn’t really cool with it. He’s more the kind of guy who takes stuff to heart. He’s not like Rahul Kohli who laughs it off like, “Hahaha, fuck you guys, my grandma thinks I’m cool.” Colin just... goes quiet, says nothing, and disappears off the face of the earth for weeks/months at a time. He was bullied as a kid. He’s actively spoken out about teasing and nastiness online, in fandoms, and on social media. What part of any of that says, “I like it when my fans roast me over hot coals for the slightest mistake I might make.”

Thirdly, lemme just emphasize the first two points by adding: This shit isn’t funny. It’s just mean. This isn’t like when he retweeted himself saying “Nice” and added “Nice” on it and people replied with, “Nice.” That was, objectively, kinda sorta funny. I mean, he still went silent and didn’t speak to us for weeks, but it was pretty funny - both the mistake itself and some of the responses to it. This... I mean, what’s so funny about him using low resolution images? It’s not really like this was too good of an opportunity for humor that folks couldn’t help themselves. He was obviously on a phone and didn’t realize the images were that low of quality - and really, who the fuck cares?

They were old pictures, anyway. We’ve all seen them dozens of times. Hell, most of us probably have HQ copies of them sitting on our hard drives right now! And come to think of it, they’re also all press shots. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to use HQ versions of them in any way unless you’ve paid the licensing fees to do so. And sure, people might not care much what we do with them, since we don’t have money for them to take, but they sure as shit care what Colin does with them. Might even be why he used LQ shots. Who knows?

But again, who cares? The point of his post wasn’t to show us those pictures. It was to illustrate the designs of Vivienne Westwood’s that he’s worn, on a post meant to express sadness at her passing.

And those Insta fans, or whoever they are, just totally made a mockery of that in a mean-spirited and cold-hearted way.

And I want to throttle them, because I don’t know if Colin’s internet silence is due to real life issues or just annoyance at ~ gestures vaguely ~ shit exactly like this. And I don’t care. Either way, the best way to make him regret posting at all and make him want to post even less than he already doesn’t... is to do shit like this to him when he does post something. Either way, he doesn’t need this kind of nonsense. Nobody does.

[cookinguptales]

I don't know if I fully believe in the concept of NYRs but... idk, I do have some things I've been working on for myself, and I guess it's fair enough to call them NYRs. These issues are a work in progress, and I am a process. lmao

[cut for length and so you don't have to scroll through my personal issues if you don't want to!]

My first two NYRs are ones that I've had on my list for many years. You'd think that means that I'm very bad at them, so I have to keep adding them to my to-do list. But actually, I've had a lot of success with them both, which is why I keep them both on there every year as a reminder.

1. Every time I complain about a bad thing, try to find, create, or promote a similar good thing.

This is the one I've had for the longest. Some times I'm better at this than others, but I always find myself renewing my commitment to the idea this time of year. I've struggled with depression for most of my life and I think at heart I'm probably a pessimist. It's very easy for me to get bogged down in negative things, especially when things have been so objectively shitty for everyone the past few years. In my teenage years especially, I had trouble moving at all without tripping over something that made me angry. And anger can be good! Anger can motivate you to demand better. But better things do exist in this world, and the past few years I have tried to funnel my anger into amplifying those things.

So, y'know, every time I complain about a movie I think sucked, I try to recommend a movie I think was pretty good. When I get frustrated at a narrative choice in a piece of media, I try to think about a choice that I think worked better. When I hear about some fresh new atrocity in the news, I try to find at least one good thing that's happening, too, even if that's just in response to that bad thing. (I find that finding charities to support helps me a lot there.) When I feel like there are ugly things everywhere I look, I try to make something beautiful.

I think I often get frustrated with bad things because I feel that things should be better. So the best way to assuage these feelings isn't to just get angry with the bad things. It's to find those better things -- or make them myself.

2. Consume at least one new piece of media every week.

This can be a movie, a book, a tv show, a video game, anything so long as I haven't consumed any of it before. I've tried those movie-a-week things or book-a-week and it's not a bad idea, but I tend to get a little bogged down. I think I've realized over the years that what I really need is a sense of freshness to keep me going. Otherwise I'll just watch WWDITS and play Stardew Valley 1000 times and stagnate a bit. Stagnation is a real problem for me, so I do a lot to try to combat that. I've definitely discovered that a constant stream of fresh new things helps with that, no matter the medium. I try to keep this river flowing, so to speak. And trying new things is fun!

Now onto a couple things that I'd like to work on in the coming year specifically...

3. Use my resources to make myself happy.

I'll preface both of these upcoming sections with the fact that uh. I was raised kind of weird fundie evangelical, and I have found that unlearning some of that shit takes a lifetime. When you're raised to internalize that joy is sinful if it's not in service to God (...we were neocharismatic, so dancing was okay in a charismatic situation) then it's kind of hard to do things just because you enjoy them, especially if they are "wasteful" in any way.

Like I can justify a hobby that is building me in some way, like an academic pursuit or learning a new skill. I spend... a lot of my free time trying to better myself, which is something that probably requires some self-reflection. lmao. I can also justify hobbies that benefit others, like writing someone a story or doing something for a charitable cause. I can even justify a hobby that might make money. But doing things specifically for me just because I enjoy them and they make me happy... that's harder, especially if they use up resources.

Like... I discovered in high school that I liked working with wax. We did batik in one of my art classes and I loved it. I still haven't gotten myself batik materials (I keep thinking "but what would I do with the cloth?") but I have started to dip my toes back into making wax melts. It's cliche, I know, but it's fun. I really enjoy it. I love making new smells and new appearances and getting really creative with it. It makes me feel like a mad scientist, a little bit. But... I mean, it's not a cheap hobby. And it takes up a lot of my actual physical energy -- which, as someone with a lot of chronic illnesses, really is in short supply. So I've felt oddly guilty about it, especially because I know I should be saving more diligently for my accessible bathroom. Like, obviously being able to shower safely is more important than being able to play with wax molds...? But... you have to have joy in your life, too... And that's not a sin.

(Sin is bullshit anyway! But still.)

I've been kind of offsetting the guilt I feel by giving wax melts to others and by kind of making vague-ass plans to maybe sell my excess one day, but like. I need to reframe the way I'm thinking about this endeavor. It's nice if my hobby can bring benefits to those around me (and make back the price of materials maybe) but it doesn't have to. It's enough if creating a weird little laboratory in my basement makes me happy.

The same goes for some other things, too... If I want to spend fifty dollars on materials for cross-stitch, that's okay! If I want to buy myself a ticket to a concert that I'll look forward to all month, that's okay! If I want to take the train up to NYC to see an exhibit and hang out with a friend, that's okay! There's value in joy, even if it's mine! Especially if it's mine!

I want to spend 2023 experimenting with new hobbies and new experiences and new treats for myself. I'd say I deserve them, but deserving has nothing to do with it. I don't have to deserve it, and I don't have to earn it. It's enough to simply enjoy myself, quietly and exuberantly and in service of nothing.

I had a stint in my teenage years where... honestly, my family lost everything. I couch-surfed at a family friend's house for a few years because we didn't have a place to live. I watched my parents cling to a job with a deeply, deeply abusive boss because it was the only way to keep insurance for my medical expenses -- and back then, there were a lot. Hell, I spent several years in there too scared to tell my parents about my symptoms because I knew we couldn't afford a doctor. So... I probably have some issues when it comes to saving and spending money... but the fact of the matter is that there's no point in having money if you're not willing to enjoy it a little bit, and it's not like I'm spending irresponsibly or refusing to share what I have. I save, I donate, I give gifts, I try to make the world better in at least tiny ways. It's okay if I try to make my own life better, too. ;o;

I keep telling myself that, anyway. Maybe this coming year I'll finally be able to make myself believe it. lmao. It's a worthy endeavor.

4. Allow myself both pride and joy in my work.

I'm a good writer! I'm a good editor! I make lovely things! I make people happy! Writing this paragraph is very difficult for me!

Back under point one, when I said "I try to make something beautiful", I initially thought "I make something beautiful" but then I felt bad. Like I was being arrogant or too up my own ass or inflating the quality of my work. But I didn't want to take it out, either, because I do attempt to make lovely things when I see shit. I think it's important to combat horror with joy, no matter what that means to you. So... I compromised and wrote "I try to make something beautiful", and I hope that next year I am mentally healthy enough to be able to write "I make something beautiful."

How do I put this... My parents were always supportive of my endeavors growing up, and they were never stingy with praise when I did something right. This isn't some weird situation where I'm trying to earn praise that never came. It's just that even as a child, I have never been able to internalize praise, which has had the effect of making me feel like I'm never good enough.

Feeling like you're enough is... I mean, I think it's a struggle for a lot of us. I think that's a very human emotion. But I'm coming to terms with the fact that the way I look at praise isn't exactly healthy, and I do think I've come to pinpoint where a lot of this is coming from.

While my parents were always proud of me, there's always been this idea there that praise should be private, and so should pride. You thank someone in private. You do good in private. You praise someone in private. And you never speak of the good you have done.

Like I said, I grew up fundie. I think my parents were, in some ways, rebelling against "false" Christians (a whole other discussion...) who would do good simply to put themselves on a pedestal later, or worse, who would hold it against others or manipulate them with favors. My grandmother is the QUEEN of this, so I see where my mother's feelings came from. So there was always this drive from home to be good silently and without attention, and that you should never accept praise for it.

That combined with the wider teachings of the church, which again, really emphasized humility -- especially in girls, sigh -- and made us "give it to God", so to speak. I don't do good things. God does good things through me. That sort of situation. It's why my grandmother is so upset that both my mother and I write secular fiction. Our gifts came from God and should be used in service of him -- so, as a tool for proselytization and a weapon against non-believers. :') You know the type.

(Side note: no, my mother has never, ever read any of my fiction even though she has begged. No, I would die. I only started reading hers as an adult once she became one of my clients. It's kind of weird how we both decided to write but never let the other read any of it, haha.)

Anyway, my point is that I have a very difficult time accepting praise which means I have a difficult time internalizing praise which means I have a difficult time ever feeling like I have done something worthy of praise, and I also feel like an arrogant asshole whenever I do manage to feel good about my work. This is obviously less than ideal. I've been slowly working un untangling my negative reaction to pride, especially because I don't actually think I'm bad at things. I just... think I'm a bad person when I admit that I'm good at things. It's a process. lmao

I tend to reread nice comments that people have left me when I'm feeling really down on myself. That's why I've been saving kind replies with the "praise" tag. It's partially so people can block it (I... always assume people will not want to see me accepting praise, HMM) but mostly so I can go back and find it later. I have a much easier time allowing other people to praise me than allowing myself to do it. But I also have a hard time believing it...?

I've had some success with telling myself that it's disrespectful to my readers if I don't trust what they say about my work -- like, am I accusing them of lying to me? Of having bad taste? If it's neither of those things, then the praise must be genuine. That's actually helped quite a bit. I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that I have talent.

But even just writing that last sentence made me wince a little bit! Damn it! It's really hard for me and I'm trying to just... force myself through it. Tell myself that my work is good and I'm not a bad person for acknowledging that. Sometimes saying my work "makes people happy" is easier for me, especially because... I mean, it's probably that in service to others thing again... but it also puts the onus of preference onto them and not me lmao.

But yes. In 2023 I am going to allow myself to linger over praise and maybe even let myself believe it. I am going to tell myself that my writing is good, and no, this is not going to be the fic that I finally fuck up and disappoint everyone. (And if I do write a fic that no one likes, that's okay, too! It's okay to experiment with what I like! It's okay to write something for me and not for others! Joy for my sake!!!) I am good at this and my writing is good and people like it and I kind of like it too and that's okay. It's not perfect, but nothing is. And there's value in it regardless.

I'd stare in the mirror and force myself to look myself in the eye while I tell myself I did a good job and I should feel happy about that but I don't keep mirrors in my house because they creep me out! I have tiny ones in my bathrooms because they came that way but they're not useful. lmao. At least not for gripping the sink at 2 am and forcing yourself into self-appreciation.

(I'm a nice person! I'm smart! I try my best! I try to be patient with people who irritate me! I write nice things! People like me, damn it! ;o;)

4b. I will be open about my charitable donations.

A corollary to 4. Like I said, we were always supposed to be good in private. I have always marked my donations as anonymous when possible. But I had a charity last year have a little pop-up when I did that, and it told me that I may think that donating privately is the honorable thing to do, but that studies show that donating publicly encourages other people to donate as well. It lets your friends and loved ones see you do it, which gives them the idea to do it. It lets strangers see the name of real people on the page, so they don't feel alone and it encourages them to donate as well. And in the case of things like abortion funds, it lessens stigma to vociferously support them.

And I hadn't thought about it that way, honestly. I still won't talk about like... actual dollar amounts... but I do plan to be more open about the charities that I support and how often I support them.

This year I donated to Immigration Equality, Philabundance, Dysautonomia International, HIAS Philadelphia, a few different local community fridge projects, RIP Medical Debt, Feeding Texas, the Native American Disability Law Center, a few local abortion funds, a gofundme to help evacuate disabled Ukrainians, the Nationalities Service Center of Philadelphia, the National Parks Service, RAICES, the Philly Zoo, World Central Kitchen, and various disaster relief charities. (As in, direct response to temporary disaster relief funds.)

If you'd like to know more about any of those organizations, I would be more than happy to give you more information so you can support them as well. They're all causes I believe in, so I want to help get the word out about them however I can, even if uh. Honestly this might be the part of this post that feels the most awkward for me to write. It really goes against everything I've been taught, but I don't want my need for privacy to outweigh their ability to fundraise. : /

5. I will be better about replying to people.

This one feels self-explanatory. :')

That said, I'm gonna go eat dinner now and... not reply to the asks that are in my inbox now.

(THIS IS HOW IT BEGINS...)

aaaanyway yeah those are the five things I'm gonna try to work on in the coming year! None of them are things that can be fixed in a year and none of them are things that will change the world but like. I want to be happier. I want to let myself be happier. I want to be a kind person, a person who is patient with others' faults, and I think I need to start including myself in that.

:')

[iputthediscoindiscourse]

Another bi women used lesbianism to shock her parents instead of actually considering what she was attracted to :) and is now going on to suck and fuck and breed with men :)) and now a whole bunch of homophobes plus other lesbians will see this and their doubt about lesbianism will grow deeper :))) larping like a tra because you think lesbianism is a fucking haircut and then pulling right out of it with no apology, go fuck yourself homophobe

As I stated before in the other hate I got, the fact you sent this as an anon proves you are a pathetic coward who needs tons of therapy and help to actually be a functioning human.

Another bi women used lesbianism to shock her parents instead of actually considering what she was attracted to :)

You know when I told my mother I thought I was gay she made it about herself told me she knew i was a lesbian since I was a preteen cause of how I fangirled over Demi Lovato and Taylor Swift. Then admitted to outing me to my father, which explains why he would randomly call me a pervert and a pedophile because to him homosexuality equals pedophilia. Like actually from the time I was 20 to the time I was 23 I literally had no attraction to the male sex at all. Like it was most definitely a trauma response,but like I was a lesbian for like 3 ish years until I did that shroom trip and realized I was in love with a good friend of mine, who happens to be a male. Also fun fact my parents still think I am a lesbian because I haven't talked to them in a few years now sooo.

and is now going on to suck and fuck and breed with men :))

For how much anti-porn radfems say they are this screams like you are a regular porn watcher and adopted the extremely violent language in this media, and use it for people who you do not like. This statement also reduces me to a sex object, which again is antithetical to radical feminism.

and now a whole bunch of homophobes plus other lesbians will see this and their doubt about lesbianism will grow deeper :)))

How does me figuring out my sexuality and gender identity, harm others? You do realize I was in a high control environment until I was about 20 ish and then didn't have really any freedom until I came up to nyc earlier this year right? Like everyone is in the process of growing and finding oneself whether they want to believe it or not. The fact that hate has overcrowded your heart like this, makes me feel sorry for you. The fact you look at the world like this, screams you need some serious help and I hope to God you find it.

larping like a tra because you think lesbianism is a fucking haircut and then pulling right out of it with no apology

how am I like a TRA? Yeah I did have some sex dysphoria was a preteen, teenager and a little bit up til my early 20s, but most of it I worked through on shrooms so, I am just a gender conforming cisgendered bisexual woman. Nothing wrong with that!! Where tf did I say lesbian is a look? I said me being gnc was a cope, I didn't specify why. Which that stems from the fact my parents wanted a son, not a daughter and they bullied me and were rude and cruel to me over my sex, and I thought if I acted more masculine they would love me more. Well that backfired. Pulling out without an apology? what the fuck are you talking about bro?? how is my personal growth have anything to do with others??? Like I wanted to post a cute life update and you people just come for my throat; which proves why I am not the biggest fan of radfems anymore. Most of y'all are hateful bigots with complexes that obscure you from being kind or understanding. Which if you want women's liberation you need to be kind and understanding,which you are neither and I hope to god you find some goddamn peace cause you fucking need it.

go fuck yourself homophobe

How am I homophobic? Like anon you don't know me at all, like now to toot my own horn but there are some bloggers who orbit the same circles as us who know me irl and they will disagree with this statement a lot sooo lol

[cveenso]

Third.

After finishing that second journal post, I went to bed. After that, my mother woke me up for sahoor. I had my usual meal, but what followed was a complete nightmare. My stomach hurts, and I have trouble falling asleep. I wanted to puke up because I was feeling so terrible. I realized I had received a text from him at 6:35 a.m.

Yes. Him.

After seeing my message for quite some time, he responded to me. My desire to simply move on and act as though nothing had happened put me in denial. Here he is, responding after a few days yet remaining uninterested. Nevertheless, he did alert me on his manic episodes, so I don't blame him. The way he responded to me was the one thing that alarmed me, at least a bit. Suffice it to say, I communicated with him in a pretty impromptu manner prior to this episode. So at the beginning, I was able to confirm that our mutual interest in one another was genuine through our follow-up conversation. But that's not what I had in mind when I first started the chat, which is the issue. You would label this guy as a clear warning sign, and to make matters worse, I'm a fool for continuing to interact with him or even feeling the way I do about him. It was his way of reading me, he explained. I am aware of his lies. I know he doesn't give a damn that I know he lied outright. But I have a different connection with him for some reason. That's just weird and I just can't explain it.

As a quick aside, he is definitely not my type of man and not the kind of man I would pursue.

Yes, I am aware. Asking if he missed me or not was a foolish move on my part. He missed me, he said.

Now for the unvarnished truth. He didn't seem to miss me. I had a sneaking suspicion that he was scared I would carry on with my life. I removed all social media from my account to avoid any distractions, so please understand. Maybe he became aware of it? Or perhaps fear overcame him. Not sure. I understand; we haven't yet met. However, you must comprehend the level of love and care I invest in the connection we have.

So many questions linger in my head at that point of time. Is he the one for me? Is he not? What am I supposed to do now? Am I supposed to let him chase me?

When he replied, I was ecstatic. Even though it's been a few days. It's true that I desired him. I know in my heart that he is not a bad person, even if it's not because of the way he appears. He is making an effort to be. No one is purely good, and I refuse to accept that anyone is terrible. He is great, I can see that. He dreams. He has objectives. It's acceptable if he is lying to me. I'm rather certain he has motivations for lying to me, even if I knew he was lying. And no, I'm not offering justifications for his actions.

Considering everything, our conversation might be our last. God only knows how long this text will be visible or sent. Like you, I don't have much hope for this guy. I am certain, though, that my intentions were pure when I desired him. Together, we would practice our deen, as that is what I hoped for—or rather, what I sought for in a man—when I imagined him as my husband. For the sake of Allah, show each other love. I wanted to lead him down the correct path. From a woman, does that not sound appropriate?

Should I be with a man who is competent enough to guide me in the correct direction? The proper method? Who decides that, though? If the topic of discussion is universal, then the answers to these endless questions aren't correct or wrong, are they? It all depends, in my opinion, on the outcome.

Although I'm not sure what to do, I'll just do what feels right and let Allah SWT handle the rest. I've reached a very high degree of acceptance, and no matter what happens, I'll accept my fate and have faith in my Creator.

Yours Truly,

cveenso

[mcalhenwrites]

I think your writing is great, and I wish I could write as well as you! I especially love your worldbuilding.

If anyone is giving you concrit that makes you feel demoralized, then they don’t know how to give concrit. Constructive criticism should always in the end leave you encouraged to keep writing and improve. They probably just aren’t your audience and don’t realize that their tastes aren’t objective truth.

I can only really talk about ao3, but it’s really difficult to get readers for original works that aren’t straight up porn. Even with fanfic, stats will always be better for a poorly written fic in a popular ship with popular tropes than a masterfully written fic in a dead fandom or unpopular ship. I really wish there was a place with the openness of ao3 for original works! But as it is, please don’t let stats affect your confidence in your writing.

-Your fan :)

Thank you ;A; I don't think the intention is to leave CONcrit so much as just tear me down. I know with the fandom situation (will not go into it too deep, but that affected tons of authors of the same ship) was more about a territorial pissing contest that made it hard to want to publicly share anything I wrote for the ship. Other writers were viewed as a threat and competition to be smothered out... and I just don't have the spoons on any given day to do more than crawl backwards into my cave and let them have their damn spotlight. Wasn't in it for the spotlight when I used to have panic attacks (and still do) if I get TOO much attention. xD; (I want my writing to be popular, but also I do not want to be perceived, and I want my writing to be just enough to make a living.) Funny enough, that experience was such an outlier for fandom experiences. I spent a lot of time in the Tales of Xillia fandom, where most of the artists and writers were cheering on others and inspiring them. It was such great energy. I was so clueless for someone in his 30s that fandom could be that hostile, which is saying a lot since I've been into FF7 and Kingdom Hearts since the early '00s... (iykyk...) My AO3 stats are mostly fine. Seasons didn't even have any smut and is my most popular work ever, even over anything I wrote in fandom. I noticed a dip in readership as it continued, but that became more about my worries that it had gotten too big, plus... I have been told frequently that my endings are always messy and often rushed. I've worked hard on fixing that, but maybe now they're too slow. Or I just haven't done as good at improving my endings as I thought I had? I don't know. And yes, there's a huge lack of comments on AO3 too. That's a general thing, not just my experience. One reason why I'm determined to always leave comments as best I can, even if I have low spoon days and can only just leave a short one. (I also... postpone reading a lot if I'm low on spoons, bc if I am too out of it to comment, I won't read until I CAN do that...) But like... the kudos and bookmarks are not bad. Generally. Especially for my original works. They're better than expected in some cases, disappointing in others... I don't think reception is ever consistent to be fair. :') The main thing is that I post to the void of social media, and social media never interacts. My average interaction to my writing-related posts is 0 notes/likes/etc. That should say something about how much it's worth to other people. (To myself, it's the world. I think the only thing that bothers to keep me alive, is that I can write.) I really wanted to publish some of my original stories and at least contribute a little to my financial situation, but if no one is showing interest in my writing, why would they buy it? Not really difficult to think they wouldn't. (And as far as the whole "why not just write as a hobby and get a job" argument: I'm disabled and have no skills, and I do not handle being under pressure with serving the public whatsoever, I just cry or get flustered and break down, and if I see anyone get mad at a child in a store, I just SPIRAL. As for the skills, I'm not kidding: I do not have any. I never went to college or trade school, I've never had a single extracurricular... I'm honestly surprised I went to public school, considering my dad didn't want to buy school supplies and said education was stupid. So almost everything I've learned is by sheer willpower, because I struggled in school with almost nothing but Fs from 6th grade until my last three years of alternative high school... and I went an extra year.) I'm just desperate to survive at this point, and writing is the one thing I can do... (Or thought I could...)

I want to add that I'm still writing. I've been working on my stories and even editing some of the older ones to polish them. A part of me doesn't want to give up the dream of at least self-publishing and selling even 50 copies of each book I release (better than nothing), but... another part of me is also like... Hahaha keep it to yourself, Cal. I've been told that I should plenty of times. That it should be enough that I even wrote in the first place. But... weird, that comes from people who constantly post their own writing. As if they also want readers. Huh.

[mybookplacenet]

Featured Post: Next to Never

About Next to Never: Steam Level: 5 Rade Matheson is a young successful businessman with over a billion dollars in assets. His only objective is to find the man who embezzled millions from one of his companies. What he finds is the innocence of the only woman who can lead him to his stolen money and the man responsible. The only problem is he can't get enough of her. One wrong decision could cause him to lose her forever. All Dylan Adams wanted was to get her life back on track. After the death of her fiancé she knew she needed to move on. She opens her heart to Rade Matheson only to find she's falling for a man who betrays her trust. Will her endless desire haunt her forever or will her weakness take over? Buy the ebook: Buy the Book On Amazon Buy the Book On Barnes & Noble/Nook Link to Series Buy the Print book: Buy the Book On Amazon Buy the Book On Barnes & Noble/Nook Author Bio: Award-winning Author of the Independent Press Award and NYC Big Book Award. A.L. Long is also the recipient of the National Indie Excellence Award. Some would call me a little naughty, but I see myself as a writer of spicy thoughts. Being a romance writer is something that I never imagined I would be doing. There is nothing more rewarding than to put your thoughts down in words and share them. I began writing in 2013 and have enjoyed every minute. When I first started writing, I wasn’t sure what I would write. It didn’t take me long to realize that romance would be my niche. I believe that every life deserves a little bit of romance; a little spice doesn’t hurt either. When I am not writing, I enjoy the company of good friends and relaxing with a delicious glass of red wine. Visit me at www.allongbooks.com for all of my new releases and book signing events. Follow the author on social media: Learn more about the writer. Visit the Author's Website Facebook Fan Page Twitter Instagram Read the full article

[emmythespacecowgirl]

Hi! I'm the anon who was 5'0 and didn't say much about herself 🙈

Gender: female

How I am: I'd say I appear to be super shy till you get to know me, then I'll be cracking jokes all day, dancing and showing you music and movies I like.

I definitely have an issue with boundaries and it's something I'm currently working on so I can have healthier connections to people, I struggle a lot with putting myself first.

I don't like arguing, or loud screaming. I like to take life slow, see the sunrise and the sunset everyday. I fear describing myself a little because I don't want to seem like I'm throwing roses at myself for some reason

I get hurt easily but I hide it and only those who know me well, know when something has hurt me. I tend to deal with pain alone and with time I've become central to help my family deal with the hard stuff.

I'm stubborn especially when I'm behind a goal I want to accomplish, I always have to keep in mind I can be more flexible.

Hobbies: I'm not sure if going to the beach everyday is a hobbie, but it brings me tons of peace so I'll say that and watching movies is one of my hobbies. I'm also into astrology so I spend a good amount of time doing charts and reading about zodiac and mystical stuff

Personality: well..I'm a leo sun, Libra moon and Capricorn rising. I like things to be done well when it comes to work but outside of that I'm happy just sitting down and winding down tbh. I am a hopeless romantic who hides behind and says romance isn't such a big thing, but my heart will melt if someone gives me roses.

I don't know if this will help but I have a super hard time talking about myself 😭♥️

hey fam!! thanks for your patience! it took me a while to ship you tbh bc i see you as compatible with so many of them!

I ship you with:

George Luz from Band of Brothers!

ship theme song: This Will Be Our Year by The Zombies

ok hear me out

y'all are seriously so cute together!!

this boy is the crazy chaotic yin to your yang

nobody can draw people out of their shells like George can!

he literally saw you one day when he was with Perco and Lieb

and he made that "AAA-OOO-GAH!!!" sound

and Perco and Lieb were like "omg please don't do that again or we can't be seen in public together"

and George initially shrugged it off as a joke

but secretly

he was completely sold on you!

the initial meeting was maybe a lil awkward

but George is a sweet guy

your shyness never phases him

he actually decided it would be his challenge >:)

he eventually does woo you over

and nothing warms his heart like seeing your crazy kooky side

he wishes that more people got to see it

but George really compliments your personality imho

he's gregarious while you're more reserved

George loves seeing you passionate about something

whether that's movies or music

he can't help but laugh when you literally drag him over to the couch and "force" him to watch your new favorite movie

he will voraciously consume any type of media with you

nerds <3

George honestly just really likes sitting on the couch, watching you intently staring at the movie screen

he also loves your hair and how dimensional it is in the lighting with it's red and brown streaks

I'd wager that George can help you break down some of those boundaries

but encourage you to take more time for yourself

you can't be everything to everyone!

he just wants the whole world to know how truly amazing you are!

but George gets it

he struggles a lot with feeling like an object in peoples' lives

like he's only worth having around for a laugh

but with you, he realizes that he's worth a lot more than that

you help him to analyze the things that bother him

and offer advice when needed

George can't wait to bring you home to Rhode Island!

he wants his whole family to see what a gorgeous girl you are!

also Rhode Island has some of the most perfect shorelines

sooo if you can get George up before 10am

i bet that he would love to go watch the sunrise with you

George is pretty perceptive as to when you've been hurt

but he definitely knows how to cheer you up!

100 goofy impressions and you'll be rolling on the floor laughing

but also George hugs are underrated tbh

something tells me that this boy gives really good hugs

he's super proud of how dedicated you can be to accomplishing your goals

he wishes that he had half of your ambition!

fyi: he will want his whole astrological chart done ;)

idk bro shy girls and george are just canon for me <3

[lackadaisycats]

Hello!

First of all I wanted to say that your art is super gorgeous and I am super into your setting because ahm DUH cats + crimes are meant together

So I have several questions for you if you don't mind!

Out of all the platforms, how come you are still on tumblr? I am new here and as far as I can see usually major creators don't really use it anymore (and good gosh you are major for me <3)

Have you ever felt jealous of other creators? Do you think your work does not get attention it deserves? BECAUSE I CERTAINLY DO. I bet my friends are sick of me trying to promote your work :D

Have you ever had any fears regarding your art? Or in general?

Hey, thanks! 1. Hmm…good question. It's been, what? At least ten years since Tumblr was really in its zany, tumultuous, hormonal heyday. Then came the Great Annihilation and the Female-Presenting-Nipple Fallout. The ashes have settled and what remains is a, uh, mildly eccentric, post-apocalyptic ghost town? Like Mad Max, except everyone is wearing pastels, sipping tea and chuckling cryptically to themselves about something amusing while fussing with their herb garden. Or thereabouts. Maybe the chaos agents lost interest and everyone else who dwelled here grew up into rather chill adults. I don't know. Either way, I'm kind of liking its vibe lately? I use other social media too. As someone trying to earn a living as a freelance artist, I sort of have to. I'm on Twitter. I'm on Instagram. I'm on YouTube. I have the comic up on Webtoon. I've even got a TikTok for animated stuff. I feel way more at ease here, though. There's less pressure to perform, and to do it aggressively and relentlessly so as to appease a nebulous, uncaring demigod of an algorithm. And when you're doing that amidst a morass of other people, when everything you labor over is reduced to "content", it gets to feeling like you're just flailing futilely around in a stormy ocean. Tumblr doesn't feel like that. No one is vying for massive success on tumblr. From a functionality standpoint, for me, this is still the best place to post a bunch of large images all at once without having to fully reformat everything. And I can answer questions in whatever exceedingly verbose way my heart desires without hitting a character limit…

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2. Ah, well, thanks very much. I really appreciate the of word-of-mouth championship! Promotion coming from an authentic place is absolutely the most gratifying kind (as long as your friends aren't too annoyed with it). It's difficult to objectively measure something like deservedness, though. Sometimes I feel guilty for the amazing good fortune I've had to be able to pursue some of my dreams. Sometimes it's an emotional, physical and financial struggle that has me questioning my life choices and frustrated that the universe doesn't spend any effort trying to balance sweat and tears against reward. Simultaneously, I know many artists who haven't had any of the opportunities I have in spite of - in my estimation - deserving it as much or more than I do. In a more perfect world, things would just be better for creators on the whole. And, well, for most people in general. And yes, I have experienced envy with a bitter edge, mostly when I was a younger, immature artist. I think envy is a pretty natural human reaction - it can be an overall positive motivator to see what other artists have been able to achieve and to desire some of the same level of skill or success. It can also easily turn into resentment that unleashes a whole array of destructive thought patterns and behavior. As I've grown older, I've found fewer and fewer reasons to really feel envious of anyone, though. You come to realize success is a matter of perception, a fleeting feeling, a pyrrhic victory, a largely illusory thing, and that other artists are your allies more than they are your competition. You come to value the things that are the actual substance of your life - like treasured time doing your thing (and maybe even doing it with other artists you enjoy) - more than you value the phantom triumphs and validations you imagine others possess.

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3. Oh yes. Fear is all around. Where to even begin? Fear of disappointing people, fear of ultimately wasting the time of the other artists I'm working with, fear of doing some harm, fear of accidentally offending someone, fear of disproportionate reprisals for accidentally offending someone, fear of losing everything in some contract arrangement gone bad, fear of injury that stops me from being able to continue working, fear of falling short of what I wanted to do, fear of income sources going under, fear of present political situations escalating and upending everyone's lives so profoundly that art isn't even an option any longer….and many more! They're always stacked and looming. All I know is that, while it's good to let rational fears make you careful and aware and prepared, you can't let them stop you.