#i do think not talking to people has a bad overall effect in the long term in a lot of aspects but i dont know how exactly that relates

[playingonedchess]

weird how this year like basically every fiction thing ive been into has been mystery crime sort of stuff

[skzdarlings]

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 2/2

masterlist.

PART 2/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. cat-and-mouse. dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. brat tamer!felix and brat!reader. everything that transpires is fully consensual with implied conversations on kink preferences, and an established colour safeword system before the scene. that being said, they still get a lil kinky. please heed the following content warnings: fear kink/cnc, hiding, chasing, lots and lots of dirty talk, fingering, blow jobs, face fucking, throat fucking, a little bit of crying, penetrative sex. (protected but dirty talk like it's not.)

(chapter word count: 7750 words.)

enjoy! <3

-

The gentlest nip of a summer breeze moves through the settling blue darkness.  Everything feels romantic.  Everything except the handcuffs chaining you to Felix,  Security Guard of the Year, Man of the People, and Defender of Propriety and Pop Star Penis.   

Felix does not look at you as he drags you away from the stadium.  He smiles sweetly at passersby, doing his best to hide the handcuffs no thanks to your flamboyant gesticulations, but it dissolves again to that grim, determined countenance. 

Felix has an interesting face, so many sharp lines, but the overall effect is somehow delicate.  A body of contradictions, slender but strong, a stark masculinity rippling beneath the glittery prettiness he happily indulges in.  Blue hair should not look that good on anyone, but you doubt anything could make him look bad.  He sparkles like the glitter star on his cheek. 

You poke that cheek.  A muscle in his jaw twitches.  He looks at you sideways, all pretty brown eyes and a constellation of even prettier freckles.  

“Do not,” he says. 

“Do not what?”

“Just. Do not.” 

You obey his demand for silence.  For about six seconds. 

“So how long have you been a security guard?” you ask amiably. 

“You’re really trying to have a normal conversation with me,” he says.  “Now? After that introduction?”

“I prefer the term meet-cute.”

“We wrestled on the ground then you handcuffed us together and threw away the key—”

“Adorable.”

“Right.” He picks up his speed.  You could easily keep pace but you decide to stagger along like he is too fast for you, whining as he drags you behind him.  Felix sighs but slows his pace.  To your surprise, he answers your question.  “A month,” he says.  “I’ve been working there a month.” 

“And you’re already gunning for CEO,” you say.  “Considering how dedicated you are to bringing justice—”

He slams to a stop.  Your chain jingles when you collide, hands smacking together.  He faces you. Wisps of blue escape from his half-ponytail to dance across his face.   

“I already told you,” he says.  “My job is checking tickets.  Chasing you down was my personal pleasure.”

“You’re a sick bastard,” you say.   

He smiles.  It is a gentle smile, seemingly sympathetic out of nowhere, his eyes softening with the lift of his brow.  He has an uncanny ability to make softness more threatening than roughness. It gives you a shiver. 

“Let me guess,” he says.  “You don’t have a job, do you, sweetheart?  You can’t hold one down.  You don’t know how. Your parents have money and it’s nice, sure, but they were overbearing your whole childhood, weren’t they?  Until one day they decided you were grown and just stopped caring.  And now you’re out in the world with no more rules and you don’t know how to deal with it.  Except by acting out.  It’s fun, right?  Looking for trouble.  Makes you feel something for a minute.  Because even though you have everyone fooled into thinking you’re this wild and carefree person, you’re locked up inside.  You’re not scared of consequences because you’re already trapped.  Oh, uhh, stop me if I’m getting cold, yeah?”

You just stare as he blithely runs his pretty mouth. 

“You don’t really care about the prize, it’s just about the chase,” he continues.  “You told me I was a good boy, yeah?  Your words.  And you think you’re bad.  A bad, bad girl,” his deep voice drops even more, like the heavy-handed thud of a low blow, striking some place intimate inside you, “but that’s not really true, is it?” 

He smiles that particular smile again, full of affection and tenderness, an expression that is completely alien to your brash and aggressive nature. 

“Deep, deep down, you just want to be good,” he says.  “But you need to earn it to enjoy it, don’t you?  You need someone to tell you that you can, that it’s okay.  But you don’t make it easy.  And you’ve been running for so long, you probably can’t even remember how it feels when someone cares enough to catch you.” 

You suddenly feel the weight of the handcuffs. You expected this dull pretty boy to have a hidden mean streak to rival your own, not for him to blast through your barriers and drag your innermost thoughts to the surface.  To say nothing of his perfect speculation on your background. 

“So what, you’re some kind of stalker with a philosophy major?” you ask. 

He is still smiling. 

He laughs, a low chuckle.  He looks like a star, glittering silver and blue in the moonlight. 

“No, I’m not,” he says.  “I’m just the same as you.  Vexatious, apparently, because I’m all smiles all the time.  Just so good, you know?”  He is almost theatrical in tone.   “Of course, that’s technically the opposite of you.  Isn’t it?” 

When you don’t answer, he touches your chin, just his fingertips.  It is still enough to guide your face to his, locking eyes. 

“I said, isn’t it?” he asks, his tone sharper. 

If he is insinuating that you are only pretending to be bad, then that means he is only pretending to be good.  If you are secretly good, then he is secretly—

His mouth hovers close to yours.  He abruptly steps back. 

Oh.  You blink quickly.  Yes.  Of course.  It is always the real bad boys who take care to be good, isn’t it?  He does not need to flaunt it.  He can just smile at you. 

“Come on,” he says, interlocking your fingers with his.  He tugs you along, humming to himself as he leads you down the street.  So seemingly innocent.  Grinning to himself like the cheshire cat. 

You stare at those freckles, the glitter stars, his dimples. 

A vexatious vixen, indeed.

“So that Jisung guy,” you say. “The one who gave you these handcuffs.  He thinks you’re a nice guy who needs some adventure in his life.  It was just a prank gift and he thought he was being funny.”

“Yup,” Felix says, popping the sound.

“Little does he know you’re actually some sick and twisted pervert,” you say.

“Tsk,” he says, looking at you with a cheeky grin, as if to say what a silly girl you are.  “I’m not sick.  See, unlike you who bothers everyone whether they like or not, I only chase the ones who like to run.  Twisted, on the other hand… well…” 

The handcuffs jingle, strung around your joined hands like the red string of fate.  You look at each other, starlight on your faces, a noisy arena behind you and a game ahead of you. 

You smile back at him. 

You still intend to win.

-

It is a twenty minute walk.  Your conversation weaves around implications, some very forthright flirtations, and a couple scandalizing explanations.  Despite his previous goading, Felix is far more reserved in his desires.  He blinks when you describe a very dirty scenario and get detailed.   Very, very detailed.   

“Um, right,” he says.  “Fun as that sounds, I’m pretty sure that constitutes as a human rights violation.”

“So?”

“I, uhh, prefer to do things that don’t get me put on an Interpol watch list.” 

“Coward.”

You nonetheless accept this and describe a totally different scenario.  He looks a little wan. 

“Where would I get a rocket launcher?” he asks when you are finished. 

“I dunno, get creative.  My friend Seungmin once—oh shit, my friends!”

“Wait, huh?  Your friend Seungmin has a rocket launcher…?”

You take out your phone to find a gathering collection of texts from Seungmin and Minho, ranging from teasing you about losing your touch to asking if you got arrested and they need to bail you out.  Your friends are a nightmare which is why you like them, but they always get you out of trouble in the end. 

You confirm you are safe, that you already left, and that you are trying to have sex with a hot, insane, kinky sadist of a security guard.  

“You know I can read everything you are typing right now,” Felix says.  “I am standing right beside you.  You’re typing with a hand literally attached to mine.”

“Well, mind your own business.”  You do not bother hiding your texts. 

“You are giving them my name and address,” Felix replies.  “It sounds like my business.” 

“Well, it’s not.  We’ve already established the world revolves around me.  You’re the supporting character, pal.” 

“Right,” he says.  He blinks at the screen.  In a more serious voice, he asks, “Do you want the postal code too?” 

It never hurts to be thorough.  You type the address and send it to the boys. 

Good thing you waxed, Seungmin writes. 

Felix squints at the screen and tilts his head like a curious cat.  “You waxed for a concert?” he asks, giving you a once-over.  “What did you think was gonna—”

“I am prepared for every eventuality,” you interrupt.  “It’s why I always win.”

He holds up your handcuffed wrists and cocks an eyebrow.  “Is this what you call winning?” he asks. 

You smirk, your whole expression bright despite the suggestive wiggling of your eyebrows.  “Matter of opinion, I suppose,” you say.  “And my opinion is the only one that matters.” 

“Right,” he says, forcing a frown.  Despite his efforts, a smile is tugging at his lips.  He suffices to roll his eyes and march ahead, yanking you along behind him.  “Come on,” he says.  “We’re almost there.”  

Once your friends have your information, you put your phone in your little purse.  You turn the corner and find yourself looking at an absolutely gorgeous house.  Your jaw drops as Felix leads you up the driveway.  It is an ostentatious design to say the least.  You pass a gate mounted with two lion statues.  

“Not my style,” he says when you gawk at the stone kitties.  “This place belongs to my parents.  They usually rent it out but they let me live here while I go to school.” 

“So you weren’t kidding,” you say, a funny sensation in your chest and stomach.  “About your background, I mean.  You and me really are alike.” 

You realize the sensation in your chest is an inkling of feelings.  Genuine, heart-felt, soul-stirring feelings. You look at Felix and see a lot of yourself, though he is like a mirror version, exactly the same and completely the opposite.  It makes you huff, holding a hand to your stomach like you can control the butterflies there. 

“What’s wrong?” Felix asks, pausing at the front door. 

“When was the last time you had a feeling?” you ask.

“A… feeling?” he asks.  He stands silent for a long moment.  When he realizes you are not going to elaborate, he asks, “What kind of feeling?”

“Just a feeling,” you say.  “You know.” 

“Uhh.”  He blinks quickly.  “I have feelings all the time.  Every day.”

“Wow,” you say.  “That sounds exhausting.  Explains a lot about you.” 

“All right.”  He shakes his head.  He reaches into his back pocket and fishes out a set of house keys, twirling them around his fingers until he finds the right one. 

“Wouldn’t it be funny if I threw those keys too?” you ask.

He gives you an exasperated look.  You grin.

With a shake of his head, he sighs and unlocks the door.  The foyer lights flicker to life and the house alarm starts ringing.  It gives you a punch of adrenaline which has the predictable effect of getting your blood pumping.  Your body does not know the difference between fear and desire.  You have only been here two seconds but you are already licking your lips. 

Felix is none-the-wiser.  He flips open the alarm panel and punches in a code.  It beeps and goes quiet.   You look at each other in the soft golden glow of the foyer lamplight.  He still looks stupidly pretty, blue hair and glitter, sleeveless shirt and jeans.  Unassuming, gentle, sweet.  Not at all like he could throw you over his shoulder or manhandle you in the grass.  But he can.  He did.

“Come on,” he says, tugging on the chain between you. 

You feign disinterest but your eyes scour his space.  You pass through the kitchen where there is an array of baking utensils drying in the dishes rack.  The entire kitchen is clearly maintained with great care.  The rest of the space is a little chaotic, shelves and desks and units overflowing with technological equipment that you can neither recognize nor name. 

“I build computers,” he says, catching you staring at the pile of miscellaneous parts.  “Sorry for the mess.  I wasn’t expecting company.” 

This is uttered dryly and you wave it away.  You do not want to admit you find it somewhat endearing.  Your hobbies primarily consist of keeping the local PD on their toes, but you appreciate the practice of a craft.  It only adds another layer to this weird dude, pretty but athletic but intelligent but ridiculous but charming but geeky.  And just as competitive and crazy and freaky as you. 

“Bedroom’s this way,” he says.  “And, uh, don’t get any ideas.” 

“Too late,” you answer, though truthfully your filthier fantasies are fracturing in wake of the reality of him.  The computers, the baking tools, the wall of games and consoles, collectible toys and ughhh why did he have to be kind of adorable and secretly have a personality.  Mutual objectification is more your style.  Not quivering under a gentle touch and feeling… feelings. 

“You look like you are thinking way too hard,” Felix says, pausing at his bedroom door.  “It’s freaky.” 

“Not thinking anything,” you say, because you are too busy feeling to be thinking.  Ugh.   You shake it off and push open his bedroom door. 

He shakes his head and leads you in.  He has a pretty elaborate gaming setup, the rest of the room plain in comparison.  His bed is neatly made and you cannot help but envision a mess of sheets.  Yes.  That is more your thing.  Taking that sweet and gentle façade and corrupting it, right down to the core.  You want him to lose control.  You want to drive him crazy.  You want to draw this out, use the handcuffs and—

“Aha,” he says. “Right here.”

He pulls open a bedside drawer.  A pair of handcuffs is sitting inside it, the key right on top.  He takes it out and immediately unlocks you. 

The cuffs fall to the floor.  He scoops them up and jingles them in your face. 

You stare at them then slowly meet his gaze.

“Oh,” you say.  “You evil son of a bitch.”   

He looks at you with a soft little pout, like he cannot imagine why you would be upset and you are hurting his oh-so sensitive feelings.  But he knew you wanted to play him.  He knew you wanted the handcuffs a little longer.  Now there is no reason to linger.  Now you can just walk out the door and never see him again. 

He is going to make you ask for it. 

That is not your style.  You hate being out-smarted.  And you really, really, really hate losing. 

“Right,” you say.  “I guess that’s it then.”

“Guess so,” he says.  “Bye.” 

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

You are still standing in his bedroom.  It is dark but there is an elaborate lighting rig around his computer, all bright blue neon and blinking lights.  You are swimming in blue, breathing it in.  His hair, the room, and moonlight. 

You will never see this colour the same way again.  Of that much you are certain. 

“Blue,” you say. 

His brow crinkles.  “Blue?” he repeats. 

“Mm.”  You look around the room, pretending you are unbothered by the intensity of his gaze.   “Red.  Yellow.  Green.  Colours can say a lot, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he says, exhaled on a breath.  The neon light catches the little star on his cheek, glinting at you.  He is dazzling.  This moment is larger than life.

You take a step back, holding his gaze. 

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go…” you drawl, backing out of his room.  “It’s amazing what you can say with just a colour…” 

“Uh-huh,” he says.  He looks at you like he did at the arena, maybe even more intensely.  Now he knows what you are capable of doing.  Now you understand each other. 

He follows you, assessing every step you take.  There is a subtle flex to the lean muscles of his arms, reminding you that while he is beautiful, he is also capable of more. 

“And what does blue mean?” he asks.  “To you?” 

You walk backwards, an unspoken understanding that once you turn your back, the game begins.  So you hold his gaze, smirking, inviting.  The foyer lights flash on and gold light fills the space between you, casting shadows across your smiling faces. 

He walks like a predatory cat, slow and smooth.  His confidence is easy.  He needs no grand display of machoism.  He just smiles that pretty pink mouth.  The glitter on his cheek sparkles.    

“Blue is the colour we show on the outside,” you say, “when deep down we really want something else.”

“I see,” he says.  Abruptly, his intensity vanishes when he laughs and says, “Put it back.” 

Somehow, despite diverting his attention, he still saw your slight-of-hand.  You swiped the closest object, a little jewel-encrusted clock on the nearby table.  You waited until your body obscured the view but he still saw.  

He can read you that easily, predict your moves that well.  Because it is not as though he loves the clock.  It stands out from his things, clearly one of the ostentatious designs, courtesy of his parents.  You can read him that easily too.  He does not like gaudy, shiny little knick-knacks.  He likes neon and blue and you. 

“Put what back?” you ask.  You have reached the front door.  Your hands are behind your back, the bauble in one, the other twisting the doorknob. 

“I’m not gonna ask twice,” he says. 

You push the door open. 

“I’ll give it back, if that’s what you really want,” you say.  With a suggestive little smirk, you ask, “So what’s your colour?” 

Red to stop.  Yellow to pause.  Green to give in. 

“Blue,” he says.  To play. 

You smile.  You hold up the bauble, wink, then zip it into your purse.    

“In that case,” you say, “you’ll have to catch me first.” 

His expression changes in an instant, that playful giggling gone as quickly as it came.  He breathes and it fills him, makes him look sturdy, makes him look ready.   

“Sweetheart,” he says.  “Don’t make me do this.” 

The softness of the pet name is completely undone by the dark tone of his voice.  There is nothing soft about him.  He is ice cold blue and burning red heat at once, searing you with his eyes, the way they rove your whole body.  You feel each glance.  A shiver races down your spine.  Instinctively, your body braces itself, fearful of that voice and that gaze. 

It also gets you so, so hot. 

All that tension snaps. 

You turn and run, bolting down the driveway and past the fancy gate.  You are quick on your feet, practiced and lithe.  You show him no mercy this time.  Earlier you were unprepared, severely misjudging his capabilities, but you will not make the same mistake again. 

You glance over your shoulder.  He is no where to be seen so you slow your pace, bemused. 

A minute later, he comes tearing around the corner and your heart starts pumping again.   Just like back at the arena, he grins as he thunders after you. 

An instinctive little yelp leaves your mouth.  You resume your pace, booking it for the corner of the block.  There is a little patch of green park so you run there, disappearing between the bushes. 

It seemed like a good idea but the streetlight barely breaks the thick tree branches. It is darker and eerier here, genuine fright overcoming you.  You come to a clumsy stop, fumbling with your purse to grab your phone.  A flashlight will stop you tripping, but it will also lead Felix right to you. 

You hear him behind you, clambering through the bushes.  Your heart leaps.  The darkness makes you forget this is all pretend.  You run without a light, dashing down the narrow path and squinting for even a glimpse of street light.  You need to get out of the bushes otherwise you risk falling on your face, then he will be right on top of you in seconds.   But running on the road will expose you too quickly. 

You will not surrender that easily.  He knows that. 

Torn between the garden and the road, you get a brilliant idea.  You dash back onto the street and hope it takes him a minute to follow.  He is not behind you so you race back to his house. 

There is no way he will circle back here.  He knows you want a chase, so a chase is what he anticipates.  He would never guess you ran back into his house.  Oh, you can’t wait for the look on his face when he finds you perched on his bed, feigning boredom as you wait. 

You run back up the driveway.  The front door is closed and you crash right into it, assuming it would be unlocked.  Nope. He locked it.  Maybe that is why he was delayed. 

You spin around, halfway expecting to find him there, ready to push you up against his door and cage you in.  But no, you are still winning.  He is undoubtedly still running through those bushes. He will circle the whole block before heading back here.    

You hurry down the side of the house, looking for any open windows.  You do not think he had time to set the alarm.  Did he?  Maybe that is why he was so far behind. 

The side gate is unlocked so you slip into the backyard.  You come to a surprised stop because it is a beautiful landscape.  The greenery is pristine and there are little couches and chairs scattered around.  There is a shed, some storage trunks, a fire pit.    In the middle of everything is a pool, sparkling blue in the golden lamplight.  Of course. 

You do not rush. You cross the yard in a slow walk, taking a moment to catch your breath.  You strategize your next move.  Should you pose on one of the pool chairs?  Wait by his back door and knock when he gets home? 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a low hum.  Someone is making their way down the side of the house.  

You panic.  You are often caught scampering around places you are not supposed to be, so instinct propels you to hide.   You run to one of the storage trunks and duck behind it. 

No sooner have you hidden does Felix stroll into the backyard.  He is a little dishevelled, a few strands of hair escaping from his half-ponytail, but he seems mostly unbothered.  He moves at a leisurely pace, humming to himself as he swings the gate open. 

He pauses there, leaning against the tall fence.   You are quite certain the world has never been this quiet.    

 “I know you’re here,” Felix says, his deep voice shattering the silence. 

Your heart leaps into your throat.  You should have known better.  Of course he had the same idea as you.  Now what?  How can you outsmart someone who can predict your every move? 

You peek around the storage trunk.  Felix is smiling, all dimples and delight.  Even his eyes are glittering as he swings the gate shut.  He looks across the yard as he curls his fist around the padlock.  He slams it shut, effectively locking you in with him. 

So that is why he took so long.  He unlocked the gate before giving chase.  He laid a trap and you ran right into it. 

His walk is more of a prowl, a slow but steady tread across the grass.

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs, uncannily chipper. 

You cannot believe you are about to be beaten so quickly.  It has your head spinning, your heart racing from your run, your adrenaline pounding as he approaches. 

Your heart tempers itself when he stops.  He pokes his head around the fire pit to see if you are hiding there.  

“Sweetheart,” he says, casting his gaze around the yard.  “You don’t need to hide.  I promise I’m not mad.”  He strolls around the pool, looking from here to there, even up at the trees.  He hums thoughtfully to himself.  “Now, now… If I was a troublemaker who needed to learn a lesson, where would I hide…”  He ducks behind a pool chair, frowning.  “Hmm, hmm, hmm…” 

He stands for a minute, tapping his chin.  You want to glean some semblance of your surroundings, but you do not want to take your eyes off him.  You are convinced if you do, he will manifest right beside you.  So you look at the house then at him, the gate then at him, the trees then at him.   You almost want to scream.  He is not even moving and he has you completely captivated, every last sense in your body attuned to him. 

“Pleeeeease,” he says in a long drawl, a cute little tone.  He ambles over to a different storage trunk and lifts the lid.  “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

He slams the lid down so hard it makes the unit wobble.  Even though you are far away, it makes you jump.  You have to cover your mouth to stop a yelp from escaping. 

You stare as he leans over the other unit, peering behind it.  He huffs in frustration when he finds nothing.  Despite the angry grimace, when he stands upright, he is wearing that saccharine smile. 

“You’re hurting my feelings, sweetheart,” he says.  “I thought we were turning into friends.  Don’t you want to be my friend?” 

He flings a chair out of his way, then swiftly drops to his knees to peer under the picnic table.  He is getting closer, bit by bit, which is somehow more terrifying than if he beelined right at you. 

He is giving you time, you realize.  He wants you worked up.  He wants your heart racing.  He wants you quivering and soft and afraid. 

You look around frantically, searching for an escape. 

Your hope rises then plummets.  The back door is ajar but that is an obvious trap.  It leads into the house but there is no way you are crossing the yard without him seeing you. 

You jump at another slam.  It was the shed door.  He is stepping inside it, rifling through the yard tools in case you are crouched inside. 

“Come on,” he says into the shed.  “Don’t be scared.” 

You take a deep breath.  You have only seconds to cross the yard while his back is turned.  You do not waste another moment, jumping to your feet and running as quietly and as quickly as you can. 

He is just as quiet.  You shriek at the sudden arm that catches you, just like it did at the arena.  Felix tackles you onto the grass again, pushing you down on your back and covering your mouth. 

You wrestle him, just like last time, ignoring his laughter as you claw and bite at him. 

“You’re a little mean, you know that?” he says, waving his hand after narrowing dodging your teeth.  He dives back in, undeterred, grabbing your face in one hand.  “Yeah, that’s it,” he says.  “Fight me.  Brat.” 

You do not surrender easily, but he manhandles you with the same effortless skill as before.  There is no doubt he has training that you lack, flipping you in his arm then pushing you down on your front.  You kick your legs as he straddles your backside.  He brings your hands together on the base of your spine. 

You know what is coming and it makes you shriek with frustration.  Just like last time, he slaps the handcuffs on your wrists and locks your hands behind your back. 

“You stupid little—” you start, your words stifled when he puts his hand over your mouth and yanks your head up.  He holds the handcuff key in front of your face, then makes a show of throwing it.  You are pretty sure it is still in his fist, but the very idea has you whimpering into his palm. 

“That’s better,” he says, slowly taking his hand off your mouth.  It hovers like he expects you to start screaming.  You just exhale heavily, glaring.  “All right,” he says.  “Very good.  Come on.” 

You play at obedience long enough to get off the ground.  He helps you stand, then you immediately kick at him.  He tries to grab your leg but you dodge the swipe of his hand, running the opposite way. 

Your balance is thrown, dizzy from the takedown and the handcuffs.  He catches you quickly.   You yelp when he sweeps you off your feet, boasting all that hidden strength again. 

He carries you over to the deck where he drops down, sitting with his legs spread to fit you in between.  With your back to his front, he pulls you against him, an arm across your chest to keep you pinned together. 

“Oh fuck you,” you say, wriggling helplessly. 

“Not quite,” he says, laughing.  “I’ve been picturing something else.” 

He covers your mouth again, catching your shriek when he tugs your shirt open.  The flannel falls down your shoulders and he yanks the tank top down, getting a handful of everything you inadvertently flashed him earlier. 

Despite the force of his initial touch, he is not rough.  You might have kept your cool if he was; you are used to rough, fast, hard.  But his hand is tender, almost loving, a slow touch that trails from your neck down your chest, thumb circling the peak of your nipple before he squeezes your curves in the cup of his hand.   It is maddeningly slow and careful, your whining trapped in the palm of his hand. 

“This is what I was picturing,” he says.  It sounds like a growl, his deep tone just above a rough whisper.  His lips graze your ear and you shiver. 

You gasp, taking in deep gulps of air when he frees your mouth.  A weak whimper is all you manage when he hooks his legs around yours and pries them apart.  His hand dives down to your shorts, making swift work of the buttons. 

“Yup, just what I thought,” he says as his fingers sink inside you.  “Do you feel that?” he asks, as if your attention could be on anything but the thorough, rolling touch of his fingers, torturing the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs.  He slides his fingers into you with no resistance whatsoever. He starts finger-fucking you, laughing when you moan, when you rear up under his hand for more.  “Mmm, yeah, you want it don’t you?”  You try to resist but it is hard, especially when he teases you, making you chase him with your hips.  He just laughs again, slowing his touch maddeningly.  “God, that’s hot,” he says.  “You might be a brat but your pussy...   It’s begging for it, isn’t it?  Does it like this, sweetheart, hmm?  Hmm?” 

He is absolutely torturing you, rubbing those swollen nerves to the crest of an orgasm then withdrawing, again and again, until you swear it burns.  You make a strangled sound, clutching his hand on your chest, still cupped possessively on your naked breast. 

“Tell me,” he says.  “Tell me how much you want me to make you come.” 

“Mmmph,” is your oh-so intelligent reply. 

“You can do better than that,” he says.  “Come on.  Show me how much you want it.  You can’t lie to me, sweetheart.  I can feel it, hmm?  Gonna feel it when you come.  Gonna feel your pussy get nice and tight around my fingers, asking for it, baby—oh yeah, what’s that?  What’s it want?” 

“Ugh, fuck you,” you whine. 

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” he says.  “Fuck you.  You can run that pretty mouth but I know what you really need.  You’re gonna be begging me for my cock, to fill you up and make you feel all full for real. Isn’t that right?  Go on.  Show me you want it.  Show me.” 

Your chest is heaving.  Your eyes close.  You concentrate on that orgasm, chasing it desperately.  It approaches rapidly and your thighs start shaking. 

He covers your mouth again, once more predicting you.  He knows you are about to come.  This time he takes you right over, groaning in your ear, clutching you tight while never once slowing the deft thrust of his hand.  You scream into his palm, the intensity of the orgasm washing over you.  The blue light of the pool flickers even with your eyes closed, seeing nothing but blue, blue, blue.   He surrounds you, his voice, his moans, his touch. 

Your hips buck, your heart skipping a frantic beat when pleasure turns to sensitivity. He chuckles but stops, dropping his hand off your mouth.  You catch your breath, slumping against his chest. 

He touches your face with the hand he just used to fuck you, wet fingers streaking across your mouth as he turns your head.  You blink at him and part your lips just for him to shove his fingers in your mouth.  You cannot help but moan, eyes closing as you suck the tangy wetness right off his fingers.  You watch when he takes them back, when he licks them for himself.  Strands of blue fall across his forehead.  He looks as flushed and filthy as you feel. 

He grins around his fingers.  Then he grabs the back of your neck and pulls your face to his.  He kisses you for the first time with the taste of your pussy on both your mouths.  His kiss is deep and bold, as if you are already his.  You are dizzy when he stops, gasping when he pecks your lips with sweet, chaste little kisses. 

“Gonna uncuff you now,” he says softly.  “Because for what we do next…”  He grabs you by the throat and you mewl, clenching around nothing when he rolls his hips under you, showing you how hard he is.  “Yeah, sweetheart.  For that, I need all of you.” 

You sit quietly while he uncuffs you.  You feign complacency, standing on shaky legs when he guides you upright.   You fix your shirt, glaring at him, though it is a little harder while you are still catching your breath. 

He was right about one thing; you need him like you have never needed anyone.  You are throbbing, completely and totally aching with the loss of his touch.  You have never felt such clear pulsations, your body begging for more even while your expression is petulant. 

You follow him to the open door.  One step, two steps. 

Then you say, “Blue.” 

You take off running into the house. 

He laughs incredulously, not even making an attempt to grab you. 

He slams the door shut behind him.  You skid to a stop in the hall, listening to the gentle beeping of the alarm as he arms it from the inside.  It is the same quiet threat as the padlock; there is no escape. 

Giddy, excited, practically vibrating with anticipation, you run and hide.  There are boxes and tables piled high with gadgetry, not to mention his couch and bookshelves and general appliances.  Plenty more places to hide than that big back yard.  And when he finally does find you, when you have worked him up the way he worked you up—

That is what winning is all about. 

You sit in your hiding place, breathing hard.    

“Sweetheart,” Felix says in that too-sweet voice.  His footsteps are slow, unhurried, casual.  “Stop hiding.  I said I didn’t want to hurt you, but if you keep this up…” 

You peer at him between some boxes.  He stops in the middle of the room, catching his breath too.  The glittering amusement has left his eyes.  They are narrowed, his flushed cheeks and sweaty hairline only exacerbating his predatory air. 

He unties his half-ponytail, then bends over to run his fingers through the length of it.  He flips back up, all that blue falling prettily in place.  He licks his lips as he prowls through the room, looking behind boxes, ducking under tables. 

You shuffle with him, moving when he does.  He checks your previous hiding space with a jaunty, “A-ha!” then curses. 

“Come on now,” he says, turning around.  He smiles like a shark, all teeth, hungry despite the innocent flash of a dimple.  “You’re only hurting yourself,” he says.  “I know you, sweetheart.  You’re in here somewhere, and you can’t tell me you’re not thinking about what it’s gonna feel like when I catch you, yeah?  Hmm.  You’re fast.  I bet you’re flexible too.  I bet I can get you into all sorts of positions.  Get you making all sorts of noises for me…” 

It is a struggle to be quiet as you move.  Your limbs are still shaky.  Every word out of his mouth makes your breath catch. 

You swallow hard, freezing when he pauses.  Did he hear that?  Maybe not.  He turns the other way, heaving a deep sigh before he laughs.  It lacks amusement, a harsh sound as he turns and turns. 

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs.  In a harder voice, he snaps, “Stop hiding from me.”  Then he smiles again.  He turns in your direction slowly.  “You’re not scared of me, are you?” 

You cover your mouth, cowering down when he seems to look right at you.  Your heart is pounding so hard, you would not be surprised if he could hear it, even feel it, shaking this whole damn house. 

“If you come out on your own,” he says, “I promise to make you feel good.  You’ll come so hard, you’ll forget how scared you are.” 

You keep that hand over your mouth, fighting to keep quiet.  It stifles a shriek when he suddenly waves at you, a drole little finger-wiggle.    

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says.  He crouches down, putting himself at eye-level, peering between the boxes that shield you.  “Don’t make me come get you,” he says.  “I’ve been nice, haven’t I? Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”    

You shuffle to the side.  He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head while he laughs. 

“Right,” he says.  “Fine.  We’ll do it that way.” 

You bolt when he does, shrieking as you clamber around some equipment to get away.  You manage to escape to the foyer, cursing when the automatic lights flash on.  It feels like a spotlight, illuminating you in the middle of that big empty space with no where to hide. 

You can hear Felix stomping after you.  You scurry into the kitchen, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide. 

You yelp when he bursts in behind you.  This time, he does not give.   He grabs you roughly when you try to run again.  With very little effort, like you are scarcely more than a mild inconvenience, he lifts you off your feet and slings you over his shoulder.  He says nothing while you curse and squirm and slap his back. 

“You know what I wonder?” he eventually says, marching you right into the bedroom.  “I wonder… if I make you cry, is that gonna make you tighter, you think?”  He slides you down his body, holding you flush against him.  He smiles.  “Worth a shot, no?” 

And then he handcuffs your wrist to his wrist and tosses the key across the room.

“Oops,” he says. 

He grabs your throat and you gasp, spilling onto the bed when he pushes you.  He puts your on your back then straddles your chest, swiftly unbuttoning his jeans. 

“Open up,” he says, practically prying your mouth open, just giggling when you bite at him.  “If you bite me,” he says, two fingers shoved deep in your mouth, “I promise, I’ll give you something to be fucking scared of.” 

You were right.  You will never see the colour blue the same way again.  You will never be able to settle for anything less than Felix again. 

With a whimpery sigh, you relent, blissful as your mouth falls open.  He shoves his clothes out of his way, just enough.  He is rock hard and wet at the tip when he guides your mouth around his dick.  He cradles your head gently, even if the rest of him is not gentle.

You moan, your pussy literally twitching for attention as he shoves into your throat and makes your eyes water.  You take him well and he groans, pulsing in your mouth when tears start running down your face.  He fucks your mouth and throat, a back and forth that has your seeing stars.  Eventually he pulls back, laughing as runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Oh, baby,” he says.  He reaches down to wipe a tear.  “I wanted to do that the second you started mouthing off to me.”

“Asshole,” you say, though it comes out with a giggle. 

He laughs, sliding down your body to get between your legs. He gets your shorts and underwear out of his way, kissing across your pussy and up your stomach.  He lifts your shirt and crosses your breasts with his mouth, leaving little bite marks in his wake.

With the hand cuffed to yours, he interlocks your fingers sweetly, pressing it into the mattress.  Then he swoops up.  He kisses you, his tongue a soothing touch after everything. 

You moan, literally shaking with need as he smiles against your lips.   He speaks in that low, rasping voice when he says, “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize you’re gonna come all over my cock.” 

“Oh god,” is your rough reply. 

“It’s Felix,” he says.  “You’re gonna be screaming it in a second, aren’t you, sweetheart?” 

He has a condom in his bedside drawer.  Though you see him put it on, he still leans down to dirty talk, holding your throat as he whispers, “Was gonna be nice and wrap it, but you don’t like it nice, do you?”  He spreads your legs with his own, pushing down with his hips.  You whimper when the head of his cock glides over where you are very wet and very needy.  “No, sweetheart,” he says.  “I’m gonna have all of you.  And you – are gonna – take it.” 

He punctuates this with short thrusts, gradually easing inside you.  You moan, canting your hips to meet him, needing more.  When he starts fucking you in earnest, your whole body gets pliant like it never has before.  You let him hold you, tethered to him by the handcuffs and something else, something to do with those feelings inside you.  You let them melt into the physical sensations.  When he touches you, working you into an orgasm while he is deep inside you, it all washes over you.  You come with a cry, screaming his name just like he said. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he says.  Your bodies are flush together, chests touching, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist.  His face is in your neck when he laughs.  It is not a fake laugh, not coloured darkly, but ringing with true amusement.  “What’s your name?” he asks.

You laugh too, whispering it against his mouth when he leans in to kiss you.  He groans, kissing you, and says your name against your lips when he comes.  It binds you to him more effectively than the handcuffs. 

You lay there for some time afterward, all that pent-up adrenaline taking its time to dwindle.  He lays on your chest, your free hand in his hair, stroking it.  Eventually he looks at you with wide eyes. 

“I’m not, you know, like that, I mean—” he says. 

“I know,” you reply, massaging the nape of his neck.  You get uncharacteristically bashful.  Usually your partners, being more dominant, are the ones offering consolation to you, and you seldom need much.  Felix, you can tell, needs something, and it draws something out of you that you hardly knew existed.  Something tender and soft, that enjoys touching him and soothing him and making him smile. 

“Do you still have that, uh, feeling?” he later asks. 

You nod.  He smiles. 

“Me too,” he says. 

“That’s nice.  Can we get the handcuff key now?” you ask, making him laugh. 

The handcuffs end up on the floor with your clothes. 

This is usually the part where you run away, but you think you are done with running for a while.  You lay down with Felix, side by side, washed in the neon blue light.  You take a breath and roll onto his chest, resting your head there, and he runs a hand down your back in a soft caress. 

“I’m just glad I didn’t wax for no reason,” you break the silence, making him snort.  He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head.  “What!  Don’t look at me like that or I’ll try and sneak into another concert when you’re on the clock.”

“Mm, will you?” he asks, grinning.  “I better be prepared.” 

“Oh no, I’m not messing with you.  I’m picking an easier target next time.”

“I’ll find you anyway,” he says.  “Can’t hide from me, sweetheart.”

“Hmm,” you say, hiding your face because that squishy feeling in your chest is back.  “I still won this round.” 

He lifts your face so he can look at you.  Your eyes close when he swoops in and kisses you.  You can’t even pretend to be annoyed with him anymore.  Vexatious vixen, indeed.   

“I think,” he says, “we might have tied this round, sweetheart.” 

“Fine,” you say.  You kiss again, long and sweet.  Then you bop him on the nose.  “But next time it’ll be me.”

He sighs but smiles, shaking his head.  Then he cups your face and pulls you in for another kiss.   

[x-hotoke]

Can you do a yandere Yuta one where he is actually sweet, but slightly cold and possessive?

HEADCANNONS on platonic yandere yuta

Sugar coated words

writer's note: i'll make this a headcannon since i think it fits the request quite well but I'll think about making a oneshot as well! this is a male reader insert btw but you/your pronouns are used.

warnings: yandere themes, possessive themes, stalking, breaking and entering.

You were with Gojo when you first met him, handing back his card. The moment his hand touched yours, he felt a shiver run down his body. After that encounter, he would always hang out with you every single day.

The first time he was introduced to the others, once he stepped foot inside the classroom, you felt the atmosphere changed and everything felt heavy. You shook it off, seeing the rest of them try to attack him.

Whenever he isn't with you, he's probably doing something. At first he doesn't know about his feelings for you but time flies by, he would find himself hanging out with you — ignoring everything.

You labelled his as a sweet, caring friend. He always looks after you even in missions you were tasked with. (He definitely didn't sneak out to join you.)

After a while, you noticed the changes in his behaviour; he was always cold and possessive. He doesn't let anyone near you except Gojo of course but the others will face the consequences even if they were a foot away from you.

His sugar coated words turned cold — he would easily get irritated with you and that's something you didn't like — everything about him turned cold.

You decided that you had enough, talking to him about it. Concerned and off put by how he was acting towards you and the rest.

“You changed, yuta. You're not the same sweet and caring yuta I knew—”

In response to what you said, he got infuriated. He has done everything for you, keeping people who would influence you in a bad way away from you.

You were ungrateful. An ungrateful man. He didn't talk to you for days after that, dodging you every time you would call out to him.

Until one day, he approached you smiling. He bought something for you, your favourite food. He apologized for the way he was acting as you ate the food given to you. Before you can even reply, you felt your eyes drooping — blurry vision. You held onto his shoulder for support as he reassured you that everything would be okay.

Maybe you shouldn't have trusted him in the first place nor even met him. In the past few days he has been avoiding you, he was watching you sleep — stalking you wherever you go. After you wake up from your sleep, everything feels nauseating, the drug in the food you ate was still in effect.

You find yuta, next to the bed you were on with a tray on his hands.

Every time that you refuse to eat, he would forcefully shove the spoon in your mouth with a scowl on his face. He wouldn't do anything besides sit on the edge of the bed, muttering to himself and leaving the room at last; locking it tight.

What about your curse technique? Even if you did manage to get outside, he would hunt you down and if he did; he knew you wouldn't go down without a fight considering you were a first grade.

Despite the huge difference between the two of you, you put up a good fight. You had no chance against him in the first place — with rika of course.

By the time you get to the room he locked you up in; he would throw you inside and isolate you for days as punishment.

Overall; you wouldn't be able to escape him without any help from someone stronger than him and rika combined but the chances are low of you finding someone —maybe Gojo? But you weren't confident he will because days have passed and none of your friends nor teachers has come to save you from yuta's clutches. You are his best friend for as long as both of you live whether you like it or not.

[nu-carniviva]

A censored version of Nu: Carnival is coming to the app store... Which is not good

When this was first brought to my attention, I honestly didn't believe it at first. I mean, why would I? Nu: Carnival has advertised itself as an adult-only game since it's release. I rarely go on Twitter since it's a total shithole, but that's how I found out that the rumors were true. Nu: Carnival - Bliss, they're calling it. The overall plot, events, and gameplay will be the same. But many crucial changes will be done to the dialogue, CG, and audio. Long post ahead, but I'll be ranting about it below

Why is this a bad move?

There are multiple reasons as to why making a censored, teen friendly version of Nu: Carnival is a horrible decision. I might not get them all, but here are a few I can think of off the top of my head:

It is literally impossible to separate the nsfw from the source. Whether the devs like it or not, they made an nsfw game. After the first half of the prologue, the game opens with porn. You are introduced to two characters at the time — Aster and Morvay. That right there is already an issue. Morvay is an incubus. He is a sex demon who wears leather lingerie. While there is certainly more to his personality, his is very existence is sex. Sex is what keeps him alive and fed. Morvay is very open about his sexual desires and the topic of sex as a whole. He doesn't find it shameful or taboo. So... What are they going to do with Morvay? He can't be removed since he's bonded with Aster. Censoring him will have him take a MAJOR hit. Now that leads me to the second part of this bullet point: sex is a crucial part of the plot. Essence is what keeps Klein stable. Eiden and his clan's job is to use their essence to fix the gem altars so said altars can keep the essence regulated throughout the continent. While there are several ways to replenish one's essence, the most effective way is through sex. Sex also plays a crucial role in expanding on the plot and the characters. Sex scenes aren't just there for entertainment, there is genuine lore within the dialogue. Through sex, Eiden bonds with his clan members in the most intimate and personal ways. He sees his clan members at their most vulnerable moments, and through that they share a deep connection. You can see when sex scenes go from Eiden and whoever the clan member is having sex just to have it to having sex because they genuinely care for each other and want to physically bond. I could delve deeper into this topic, but I'm sure you all understand by now what I'm trying to say. Sex is not just an accessory or perk. It's part of the worldbuilding

Minors will not be able to escape nsfw within the fandom. Since the game's release, the fan base has been entirely made up of adults. Since we are all adults, we freely talk and post about the nsfw parts of the game. You go on any social media platform where Nu: Carnival is discussed, and you will see nsfw. It's a very casual topic in the fandom, and in a way it's something that bonds us together… As weird as that may sound. My point is, making a censored version of the game is pointless, because the source itself in inherently nsfw and the fan base is full of adults making nsfw content which is usually uncensored since the artists expect for anyone in the fandom to only be adults

Minors in fandoms often bring drama... Hear me out on this one. Not to sound like one of those "grr minors dni I hate minors" people, but kids in fandoms often bring drama and discourse. As aggravating at it is, I have to admit that it isn't entirely their fault. When you're in your early teens, you're starting to discover yourself. You become very opinionated and defensive over your beliefs because you're trying to figure out who you are and where you stand in life. You're trying to gain independence and autonomy. It's normal... But it's very draining. Since Nu: Carnival has an all-adult fandom, there isn't a lot of drama at all. Sure, you're going to have stupid people saying stupid shit to start drama, that happens everywhere, but those people are typically ignored because it isn't too common. With kids coming into the fandom and starting unnecessary drama, it'll be so much harder to avoid. Not only that, but kids don't have as much media literacy as adults do. It's not an insult, but simply a fact. Nu: Carnival delves in a LOT of heavy themes in the game. Some of which are stated outright while others require you to read in between the lines to pick up on them. Since the fandom is all adults, it's easier for us to handle these topics and discuss them maturely

Why are the devs doing this?

My guess? Money. The devs are part of a company after all. At the end of the day, all companies want to make money. By making a game they can put on app stores, the game becomes more visible to a broader audience. People who have never heard of Nu: Carnival before will see what appears to be an innocent anime game when it's far from that. All it will take is a simple google search for people to see the the game is very much nsfw and not something minors should indulge themselves in. It's dangerous for both parties involved, both the minors and the adults

But hey, whatever's bringing in the money, right? Sigh...

[exeggcute]

well it's been almost six months which I think is long enough to break my posting embargo, so, uh: guess what! I got liposuction lol. specifically hip/thigh lipo to quell some pretty wicked dysphoria that stemmed from having such a feminine silhouette… and I have to say I'm really, really pleased with the results.

tbh my initial plan was to keep things under wraps for good which is why I haven't said anything about it yet (and even as I'm typing this up I keep debating whether to post it or trash it)—partly because I was/am worried people might Act Weird about it and partly because I get a little embarrassed talking about bodygendershit in general. but here we are. one reason I do feel compelled to finally share, other than being super happy about how everything went, is that I haven't encountered a lot of discussions about body sculpting as a possible avenue of gender-affirming care (although, to be fair, maybe I just haven't been looking in the right places) and I figured at least one person out there would be interested to learn about what I did and where I've ended up so far.

anyway. pics/details under the cut—nothing even remotely risqué (or yucky), I just know that body image stuff is fraught + not everyone is eager to hear surgery talk.

to be precise: I got tumescent liposuction of the inner and outer thigh, plus this ultrasound thing to help the skin shrink. a different surgeon who I consulted (but ultimately did not go with for a number of reasons) said that even if I got the results I wanted from lipo, which he claimed was unlikely, the affected skin would look loose/baggy/weird forever... and that surgeon was wrong on both counts lol. my elasticity was great bitch!!!!

they didn't take out that much fat overall, only eight pounds or so, but it's way more about the Where than the How Much. my actual surgeon (who kicks ass btw) said lipo isn't that great for weight loss per se, and what it's really good for is sculpting targeted areas—so basically exactly what I did. six months post-op I actually weigh about the same as what I did pre-op, but the distribution has held steady; more weight goes to my stomach now and less, proportionally, goes to my hips since there are fewer fat cells in that area now. so my silhouette retains its new shape!

the overall change is admittedly on the subtle side, since I'm pretty short and have wide hip bones (and you can't change your literal skeleton) but it's still gone a looooooong way. the main thing I requested from my surgeon was "I want to fit in men's pants" and boy did he deliver.

also a good place to note that if you're in the las vegas area looking for a plastic and/or cosmetic surgeon—this guy is board-certified in both btw—then I absolutely have the guy for you. feel free to DM me for details. lipo is clearly his specialty (and it shows!) but he also does a lot of breast revisions/mastopexy (i.e., fixing implants that other surgeons did a bad job putting in), regular implants, and face work (particularly facial feminization surgery). one thing that sold me on this guy was an enthusiastic yelp review from a local stripper who said he hid the incisions for her breast lift in her armpits so none of her clients would notice that she'd had work done... a true master of his craft

okay you've scrolled enough so I'll give you what you're here for lol. I don't have many pre-op pics because I was obviously unhappy with how I looked and was not taking full-body selfies on a regular basis, but here's a few I took ~2 weeks beforehand:

these super thin men's joggers were my go-to dysphoria pants, to the point where I bought five pairs in different colors, but now they're so baggy on me that they have the opposite effect and make it look like I have wider hips than I do. so I retired them from my wardrobe...

...except not immediately because I had to wear compression garments 24/7 for the first three months post-op and these joggers were just loose enough to comfortably wear a medical girdle underneath them at all times, 110° degree temperatures be damned. (not that I was going out much for the first month since I was soooooooooooo fucking bruised and sore lol.) here's a few post-op pics in the same style pants:

(first pic is less than 24 hours post-op, about to go to my follow-up appointment, looking greasy as fuck because I wasn't allowed to shower yet; second pic two days post-op and also post-shower, thankfully; third pic is about a month post-op.)

so, like, CLEAR improvement already. I will not be posting pictures of my black-and-blue-and-swollen-all-over legs but considering how puffy I was from getting internally pummeled with a cannula it's wild that I still saw improvement literally as soon as I came home.

recovery was obviously not a blast in the moment but I got off easy, all things considered. I was supposed to get drains put in and was Not looking forward to that at all lol. the first thing I asked when I woke up after surgery was "how many drains?" because they weren't sure if I'd end up needing two or four, but it turned out the answer was zero. no drains!!!

I did have to lie with my feet elevated for the first two weeks straight, and had major bruising that receded over the first month (you could barely see my regular skin underneath all the mottled spots), but little to no nerve pain, no weird complications, and I was more or less back to normal after six weeks. also noelle took very very good care of me and was brave about injecting me with blood thinners so I wouldn't get clots and die :)

when I went into it I was fully expecting to get huge vertical scars up and down the sides of my legs (and had made peace with it!) but instead I wound up with four tiny incisions like this, each less than two inches long:

what's totally crazy is that the scars are basically Gone now. like even when I'm trying to find them I struggle to locate the ones in the front. I joked to noelle that if someone did an autopsy on me they might not figure out that I'd had cosmetic surgery, especially since the skin on my thighs is back to its normal color and texture. (in this scenario I like to imagine that it's dana scully giving me the autopsy and I'm in an x-files plot where instead of regular lipo I got alien lipo and mulder figures it out purely by accident.)

with lipo it can take up to a year to see the full results but I already feel so much fucking better in my body that seeing old pre-op pics throws me for a loop. and I can absolutely wear men's pants now—pants for short and stocky men, to be fair, but actual regular men's pants and not exclusively Pants For Men With Huge Butts And Legs. which is the only style I could even hope to fit in before. and even then it was a stretch.

big pic dump of shitty mirror selfies taken over the last few months:

:)

(also I really debated sharing this one but I already included it in the yelp review I left my surgeon so fuck it: here's a tasteful before-and-after in my undies where you can see my bare legs for easier comparison. left pic is one week pre-op, right pic is about five months post-op. including it as a link instead of embedding it in the post in case your boss happens to be reading over your shoulder at this very moment. also this is the one and only time you will ever see me stripped down on tumblr dot com so don't get used to it lol.)

[shepherds-of-haven]

Okay I saw this asked on another blog and it was hilarious so I have to ask here : what do you think inner circle’s Beige Flags are? ( weird/quirky or questionable things they do that give you pause but overall have no real effect on the relationship)

Also hope you are feeling better!! 🩵🩵

Ooh, this is a fun one haha! (And I'm feeling a bit better, thank you! I still haven't fully recovered, but getting there slowly but surely! 🥲) Anyway, let me think...

Blade: rather than accompany you into shops (especially small ones), he assumes you want to be left alone to do your shopping in peace (and also typically finds shopping boring) and will instead just stand outside the door, looming like a really intimidating security guard or bouncer. (He is assessing street security, guarding the only door, and positioning himself within shouting distance in case there's some kind of threat.) This often inadvertently drives away business, so sometimes he'll just wait at the end of the street instead, staring out at the crowd like a member of your own personal secret service

Trouble: sometimes he eats too fast, or more accurately talks too fast while eating, leading to frequent inhalation down the wrong pipe and people having to thump him on the back while he coughs. Sometimes he will power through the coughing by sheer force of will and will just... forcefully swallow through it. He refuses to slow down. Life's too short to try to avoid death by choking

Tallys: doesn't make a ton of affirming noises to let you know that she's listening. A lot of people go "uh-huh" or "wow" or "right" or whatever when you're in the midst of telling a long-winded story. She just stares at you patiently in silence until she's sure you're fully done. This is polite in Elven culture, and she is completely listening, but it can unnerve people who feel pressured by silence lol

Shery: she still has to look at her hands to tell left from right. Like sometimes she has to make her left hand form the L to remember 😅 She also finds it difficult to do math in her head and either has to sketch it out in the air or write it down!

Riel: always leaves a bite or two of food left on his plate; rarely completely cleans his plate. Same with drinks! So many teacups that always have a few sips left at the bottom. Why didn't you just drain it, man? It's like he does it on purpose!

Chase: always takes the most meandering, inefficient way to get to a place. like if the walk from A to B is a straight line down one avenue, he always seems to take the most roundabout, random path. Here, I'll draw you a map:

Red: he is very bad at matching the pace of his walking with others; with those long legs, he walks at a naturally and totally subconscious fast pace! He's mindful about it when on a date or actively courting someone, but when he's focused on something else, excited, traveling, or out and about with friends, he has to frequently be asked to shorten the length of his strides so others can keep up lol

Ayla: I've mentioned this one for her before, but she's very bad about sharing her food. She hates when you snatch a fry off her plate without asking, and even if you do ask, she can be fairly begrudging about it if she perceives food is plentiful (like "why can't you get your own, the line is right there?") In work circumstances, like sharing group rations, she's totally fine, but in restaurants or in the refectory, she's annoyed by it, like "I loaded this plate for myself and planned on eating all of it... myself 😒 If you wanted to share something, you should have said so earlier!"

Briony: she's constantly whipping people in the face with her ponytail. She tends to turn her head really fast or spin around in conversation and whoever's standing near her ends up with a mouthful of hair. She hasn't learned to not smack people in the eye with her hair yet despite several remonstrations

Lavinet: frankly shocked, upset, and scandalized whenever there isn't a little something sweet at the end of a meal. it doesn't have to be a full-on dessert--even a single chocolate served on a plate would do, and is often preferred! but when there's nothing?? nary a profiterole or cream puff or a little sweet treat for the lady in sight?? something is off!! her palette isn't satisfied!!

Halek: he always wakes up in the morning so loudly. unfold from the bed -> crack his back, neck, shoulders with the most ungodly series of pops -> loud groan. It sounds like an old accordion getting stretched out

[lamialamia]

We have a problem: cheating, humanizing your characters, and delivering your message

This meta is going to talk about Crosby's cheating in episode 7 and 8 of MOTA and how the show's lack of acknowledgement for it ultimately weakened its message on the effect of war.

So. I have talked about how Sandra's abrupt change of heart regarding her principles in her relationship with Crosby disrespects her character in this post. Now, I'm going to talk about the cheating plot point again from another angle: MOTA wants us to see how war is capable of changing people for the worse, but it will not engage with this message any further than the surface level.

When Crosby decided to cheat on his wife with Sandra, it happened within episode 7 and ended in episode 8. You can see him looking at other women in episode 6 and then spend a day hanging out with Sandra and is impressed with her as well as sending her longing look, he also shares a moment of vulnerability with her by talking about Bubbles. This is a legit basis (I'm only going to talk about Crosby in this analysis) for him to cheat with Sandra.

However, after the affair ended, the show never mentions it again. Crosby never says a single thing about it, his friends and colleagues never says a single thing about it, the story never says a single thing about it. Does Crosby feel good or bad about his action? Does he has remorse? Does he feel he is justified for an extra-marital affair? Does he think he's more of a man now that he has done it? Does he regret not courting Sandra further and making her his wife?

Not a thing.

(and that's it 🙃)

The problem with this is not about the cheating itself, but about how the narrative ignores Crosby's humanity. As war changed him, we see in the conversation he had with Rosie in ep 9 that he has doubt and struggles with his role in such large-scale destruction. The show is showing me how a man like him is capable of violence and contributes to human suffering in a big grand level. However, when it decides to never mention any kind of impact on Crosby, his friends, or the overall narrative that stemmed from his cheating -- a small-scale everyday cruelty -- the show weakens his character. Not because he cheated on his wife, but because it tries to say we should ignore his small cruelty in favor of his big one. Effectively, MOTA tells me its characters are above judgement for small cruel thing. That is inherently dehumanizing.

Let's make a comparison. Meet Brad Colbert in Generation Kill.

He's a Marine who is on his way to invade Iraq and pretty much a weapon of war. Other than that, he enjoys riding his bike, surfing, hates country music, and he was cheated on by his ex-fiancee and his best friend.

Here we can easily see that Colbert is pained by this experience. It affects him so much he stopped dating altogether and only have sex with sex workers.

Despite his prowess to kill a lot of people, despite the fact that he is part of the military complex of the USA that is committing atrocities, this man is still vulnerable human being. He is still a man who can get hurt from the betrayal of those he trusted. And by showing this vulnerable side of Brad Colbert, GK effectively made its case: the banality of evil - The person who enact evil is as human as you and me. And Evil can be enact by any average human.

This is because anyone and everyone can commit both the everyday-cruelty AND the grand-scale atrocity.

But unlike GK who reflect on this duality, MOTA only spent screentime to reflect on the grand-scale atrocity. It spent time to share Crosby's regret and guilt in being part of the war effort that kill many people, civilians and military personnel alike. It spent time to have John Egan faced down en entire street of angry civilians to make that point.

However, if you do not acknowledge that your character can commit the every-day cruelty, and show how only his grand-scale atrocity matters, then your character only have half his humanity to lose. You dehumanize him. And now, your message of how war affect the humanity in an average citizen is only half as effective.

[renmarrr]

Okay, so my two DustFell-related questions are:

1. Have you ever come up with any concepts or lore for DustFell beyond the original post? Because if you did, I would love to hear about it.

2. Do you have any plans to work on DustFell any further, or do you consider it fine the way it is?

I have, actually. From the moment all this au-ownership fuss started I thought that this au combination can have a chance. Since then I have this. Main plot and difference (from dt au) is that Sans failed at finishing his murdery job. He got caught. But the human meets him without being immobilised.

Sans’s scientific experience and monster history knowledge formed his bad opinion about powerful humans.

Sans isn’t aware of resets but he sees the events from previous timelines as blurry and half-abstract exaggerated nightmares. There he can see that human does harm to lesser monsters (in fact they can’t kill main monsters). Therapy barely works.

He refuses to give Toriel that crucial promise. Instead, first few timelines he spends on attempts to capture/kill the human. But the kid returns after their every misfortune.

Sans, obsessed with idea of stopping the human, decides to act less reasonable and kills some of lesser monsters (to gain some lv and to leave less enemies to the kid).

He gets carried away and more and more crazy in his killing “spree”. Until the royal guard imprisons him.

Papyrus isn’t dead, he just refuses to talk to Sans because 1) Sans put them both in danger now (the king = danger); 2) Sans now resembles the Kind even more; 3) Sans isn’t sane anymore. Papyrus-shaped illusion scolds Sans for every possible thing his mind can think about. He talks to the illusion but the conversation sounds meaningless.

Sans can escape but he can’t live long in freedom — he gets caught and brings his execution closer. Overall his attempts to stop the human are never effective. Unless he can bring boredom to a human by making the “game” much harder and less fun so the other would just stop. Or start more merciful route.

Human’s journey is sneaky and by the time they arrive to the Hotland, evacuation starts. Flowey set most of prisoners free. Unfortunately he also freed Sans, so he’s now the final boss. If Frisk survives the stage of the fight, there’s a chance for Flowey to bring Frisk through the barrier (Frisk uses “flee option”). This moment of chance repeats once a few turns.

There are grey zones but something like that. None of it was in my head when I drew that first drawing of df. Also I didn’t want to make Sans so powerful he managed to put the whole underground into the grave. So he has a little bit more adventures.

2. I’m not sure. That would be cool of course, but I don’t have so much strength unfortunately. And I am not able to focus on one project till it’s done, so. As I said many times before, other people free to come up with their ideas/concepts/designs as I didn’t invent the au, I only happen to draw a combination of two. Anybody is free to use that I described here, if it’s interesting or helpful enough.

(Of course it’s forbidden to use/edit/still/repost my drawings. I had some older sketches of the same things but they were worse.)

[single-malt-scotch]

Bdubs' speech patterns & quirks

i made a post a while back about Bdubs' typing habits and ya know what. ill be a little stupid obsessed and unhinged again and do this one. might be useful for fics.

been watching this man from day one and im trying to throw together everything i can in my head. he really hasnt changed that much if we arent considering a shift of humor and energy-- but i will regard it at certain points for clarity of how his speech is handled.

General speech pattern

Through time Bdubs has gained more energy in his voice, and more confidence in how he speaks as a person presenting in his videos. But he still has his quirks, quirks that have remained forever.

biggest one. There is a big habit of stuttering in some sense. Either on the same words with the intended phrase:

Example: "You-- you don't- you don't understand!"

or a phrase that is altered during the stutter:

Example: "Yeah but-- you-- I don't think you get it..."

They aren't the stutters people default to in most cases (no "y-yes" "i th-thought.." etc-- in *some* cases you can throw this in but i suggest the bigger ones and never make it too frequent).

Theyre long and very obviously, and make him take longer to get his words out. sometimes it cuts his train of thought and he stops his sentences, maybe even starts over entirely.

in addition to that, bdubs also cuts words in a way i think most people will- goin', gonna, thinkin' etc. however at times he will enunciate the whole word for effect (plays into his "exaggeration" described below)

With his awkward pacing and stumbling, there are times where he fumbles and might say something in a "weird" way. sometimes, it becomes purposeful! he'll keep doing it when its funny, but you can tell its more of a slip than on purpose at first. there are far too many examples of this, but its obvious that he picked up the funny way of saying 'hermitcraft' on purpose at a certain point, for example. this may be hard to get across in writing however and its not as important.

bdubs loves to exaggerate. personality wise, hes like this obviously. and it plays into how he talks. boisterous is the best word. dont be afraid to go hard on the exclamation points or question marks! "!!" and "??" may describe what you want when you need to imply more of his noise.

Exclamations, regarding swearing

Bdubs doesnt swear anymore, but its worth addressing it, in context to what... replaces it, in a sense. or if youre writing something based in the years when he did swear.

Lets get one thing straight. bdubs does not say fuck. like, even back when he swore. there may have been some very light instances of words slipping (the old video where he completely bleeped out his words may have likely had that) but it is not how he spoke on the regular.

bdubs' most used 'bad' words were "damn", not as often "ass". he used a lot of 'safe' words-- shoot, crap (crapper, directed at someone/thing), frick (fricker, directed at someone/thing), dang ('dang man'), freaking (this is exclaimed very strong when it comes up, as if he was saying "fucking". comment phrase "very freaking funny!")....

these are the most frequent choices. id say bdubs has the capability of more swears, but it would be a last resort/under extreme duress.

Other notable phrases

Some of these fall under 'exclamations' at times, but i wanted to address the phrases he says in response to things, one subject is what people like him say in place of things like "oh god". you can see this in some hermits too, but bdubs does not say "oh (my) god". there is no exclamation of "god" when he needs to say something like this.

some are more or less frequent in the overall timeline, but you will likely hear...

"judas priest!" "oh goodness!" "oh jeez/jeezer!" if there is any phrase regarding god its a sorta "dont use the lord's name in vain" situation. none of the "oh god" stuff.

in terms of other frequent phrases,

"Trying my heart out/off" pops up a lot, and it means that he is trying hard at something whilst also saying he is 'putting his whole heart into it'.

Older/less frequent these days:

the good ol 'pet names'. it is/was never a super frequent thing (that bdubs/etho ooge video was surprisingly frequent...) "sweetheart" is most likely, "baby" but not always in a 'pet name' way, just a casual word to throw out at nothing. might get a "darlin'" in there too. the instance of calling someone specific those things is not super common, but still important to note.

a final notable one is "boy", directed at others in a more like. jokingly stern way. "What are you doin' boy?" a direct aim at a person, perhaps in a (joking) accusatory way at times? (wanted to comment there was an early ooge instance where etho picked it up as well lol). and imo i saw this way more in the early days, less so now.

Conclusion

bdubs has a variety of expressions in his speech. generally very relaxed and sometimes even careless, hes not tryin to focus too hard on every word he speaks. which is only natural! imo i think his personality is what affects this more than anything. hes silly, extroverted, and acts first.

his 'loudness' and stutter is important and it can be hard to express through words. outside of the way you describe the way he tackled talking in fics, seriously dont be afraid to double those punctuation marks imo. definitely dont be afraid of those big 'stutters'!! its probably the most defining part of his voice imo. i hope this is useful and feel free to add on or ask about it!

[gothicprep]

so, apparently marvel is in disarray. ahead of the marvels coming out this weekend, variety dropped a bomb on the studio's somewhat dire state of affairs, as the franchise has hit its first real rough patch since the release of iron man 15 years ago. among the issues: jonathan majors, whose domestic violence arrest continues to hang over marvel's plans to make his character the thanos-like heavy for the next sequence of movies, the weak box office projections for the marvels (which some have said is tracking lower than recent bombs like the flash), the unending flood of hashtag content on disney plus which is overwhelming audiences who are finding it harder to keep up with the interlocking stories that have served marvel so well over the years, shoddy visual effects, spiraling budgets such as the reported $25mil an episode for she-hulk, a show that looked terrible because of the shoddy effects work aforementioned, behind the scenes chaos as kevin feige works to slash budgets and kill projects that aren't coming together. one movie at risk is the forthcoming blade reboot with mahershala ali, which has gone through rewrite after rewrite including reportedly one draft in which blade was the fourth lead in, quote, "a narrative led by women and filled with life lessons".

that last line has provided a lot of laughs for people like jay gothicprep, and critics who insist that marvel's efforts to diversify the lineup have led to much of this disaster, indicative of disney's overall failure with things like indiana jones and the dial of destiny or animated projects like strange world or lightyear. while this is potentially true (i guess, it's possible) it doesn't seem true because this certainly wasn't the case when black panther and captain marvel were both cracking the billion dollar mark a few years ago. rather it just seems, more simply, that marvel has run its course. marvel was hit by a double-whammy of endings. the thanos storyline that'd dominated the first ten or so years of the project came to an end. at the same time, the pandemic began and disney plus started flooding the zone with content, creating a natural break point for audiences that had no desire to watch hours of tv to understand 1.5 plot points in whatever the next movie that's coming out is.

this preamble is getting kind of long, and i have a lot more to say, so i'm going to continue to thought dump about this under a cut.

first of all, i'm still laughing like a week later at the women led life lessons description. no one has disputed that it happened. that description is the funniest thing i've ever read in a trade industry report possibly ever. what in the hell, my friends. did a writer even talk to a producer about what blade was? it's a movie about a guy with a sword who kills vampires! it's pretty straighforward! that sounds like something i want to see! there were three of them already, and two of them were pretty good!

anyway, i think you can take that incredibly ridiculous description of a draft that maybe wasn't the main draft – this movie has been through tons of writers and directors – and see some of the real problems with marvel's creative direction, which is that they've stopped making movies that highlight the core concepts of their characters. there are other problems as well, but when's the last time they put out a movie that was like, "iron man. he's a guy in a metal suit and he fights a bad guy." or "spider man. it's a guy in a spider suit with spider powers. he's got girlfriend problems and he fights crime around manhattan and maybe there's dr octopus." they don't do that. their recent stretch of movies have all been these impenetrable multiverse stuff with ties to tv series that you haven't seen and maybe won't ever see. there was a whole 25 minute section in black panther 2 that was setting up armor wars and ironheart. and like. who needs that sequence, which was boring and looked like total garbage? and now armor wars is being redeveloped lol. they've just departed from a lot of the core concepts that powered their earlier films.

they have some other problems. they've leaned into a slate of characters that is not all that well-known or inherently super popular, even for marvel being able to deliver on making billion dollar films out of guardians of the galaxy and such. maybe with the exception of spider man, which they don't get a full cut from because sony owns the actual movie rights. then there's the fact that the streaming series, by all accounts, aren't great but you *feel* like you need to have seen them. they're all real big problems. marvel needs to go back to making movies that are named after a character who's a superhero with a clear concept. guy with spider powers fights crime in his neighborhood. even though those movies got kind of repetitive, they did well enough because they didn't stray too far from the character concept.

i think, too, as a viewer, when you have a studio churning out so much stuff that's not good, you get the impression that the superhero industry feels entitled to your time and entitled to your money while not delivering.

this summer also represents an interesting counterpoint to what's happened with marvel and dc. the sheer amount of stuff that you devote every waking minute to keeping track of the damn things got exhausting and made movies stop feeling like events. this summer we've had barbenheimer and the eras tour, and those have been both big events and felt exciting. barbie was a chance to be campy, oppenheimer was a chance to see something serious and cinematic, the eras tour was exciting for fans of taylor swift who couldn't afford to spend $3k on taylor swift. and they felt this way because they were all unlike anything you'd seen at the movies in recent years. they had a high standard of quality, and going, it genuinely felt like people were there because they wanted to be, not because they were being force marched by a cultural behemoth to be there. you can't summon that same kind of energy for a marvel movie when it both feels obligatory and you expect it to be bad.

it also feels like there's a certain contempt for the audience where it concerns quality problems. i mean, i don't think that this is the intention. marvel isn't saying "we can deliver this stuff that's garbage and people will see it anyway". but one of the things i thought was the most damning about that variety story was the fact that, on some of the marvel tv shows, the final effects were inserted after the shows were released. so if you watched the show on opening night, you probably didn't see the final effects work. the arrogance involved in that is insane. it speaks to a total vanished pride in putting out a good product.

even some of marvel's better regarded films were heavily edited and heavily worked on right until the end, in part because kevin feige would come in and fix things, so stuff would have to get reworked. that's why effects deadlines were super tight and people were always crunching at the very end of this. there was that incredible quote from sam raimi from a couple months before the second doctor strange came out where he was like, "i think it's done but i'm not sure. marvel, they work on their movies until the very end." the director didn't even know if his own movie was locked or not because he clearly wasn't the one making the decisions about what the final print would look like.

that can work if you're making two movies a year and have a supervisor that comes in during the process and says, "i need you to redo this, in this way". but when you stretch that out to three movies a year, plus god knows how many episodes of television, there's no way to do that and make it a high quality product.

an instructive lesson comes from the book "disneywar", which chronicles michael eisner's time at disney. and one of the things in this book was the development and deployment of "who wants to be a millionaire" in america. bob iger is head of abc at this time. the guys making this show do it for a week. audiences love it. it's putting up huge numbers. everybody is excited. it's crushing it in the ratings. and the people who made it wanted to keep doing special week or two week long engagements that people would show up for. and iger was like, "no. i want this every week, three times a week, forever." and audiences got burnt out on it quickly, because it was something that only really worked as a special that ran for a week and disappeared for a few months. that's what the disney plus strategy feels like with marvel.

[grimrester]

i lied! i did big fibs, i have more to say about the watcher situation after all. some assorted thoughts:

1. i'm a little surprised at just how big the rift is in the fandom post-apology. if i go into the tag, it literally alternates between "you guys are twisted sickos for bullying them into walking back the new platform" and "you guys are major chumps for accepting the apology and my trust is permanently damaged." this is a fandom that previously seemed pretty monolithic to me as an outsider, so i wonder if this will have long term implications for the sustainability of their fandom.

2. they said there'd be a "free subscription" to the platform for patreon supporters. makes sense, since their patreon tiers are mostly more expensive than the watchertv sub. this was presented as an indefinite sub dependent on continuing to pay their patreon, but patrons are receiving emails saying the sub is actually only for 3 free months. i'm like 90% sure this is the same kind of situation where they encouraged password sharing even though the platform doesn't enable it. they once again just seem to not fucking know what the vimeo ott platform they're using is capable of doing. they have to stop making statements like this until they get a better understanding of it because it's continuing to make them look bad.

3. there are multiple reports on reddit that at least ryan and sara (shane's spouse) are deleting comments on their instagram. look, i get it, some of the things people are saying are downright vile. the pointed targeting of steven and the borderline fanfic-writing quality of some of the theories about what went down interpersonally on the team during this decision is fucking weird at best and racist/invasive at worst. furthermore, i dont think making comments on personal instagrams is a good way to be heard. but on the other hand, controlling what people say on your platform right after you made a "we hear you" statement is really bad optics. obviously i think they have a right to delete anything that's outright bigoted, but it seems like they're deleting anything decidedly negative.

4. some of the comments getting deleted are about potential "fake" or "plant" patrons trying to skew the narrative positively on the watcher patreon. i frankly think this is unfounded conspiracy shit until i see substantial proof, but deleting these comments in particular without responding can cause some straight up streisand effect. this can really quickly start snowballing if they make it look like they don't want anyone talking about it. overall i just don't know if they understand just how much they're under the microscope right now. i didn't have to search very much to dig this stuff up - people are watching and documenting them. i think the variety article revealing they did initially intend to remove their backlog and them trying to pretend they didn't walk that back has caused a lot of people to hyper-inspect their every move. they're already in the youtube drama content cycle, and they risk someone making a blowout exposé if they aren't careful.

[bluescribble]

(kinda a long post)

JOHN : He's the kid who has lived the most "normal" life out of all the beta kids. I like to think he looks like a relatively average boy, and that his dad took good care of his son. I'm willing to bet Dadbert only bought him clothes that fit him well, so he nevers looks frumpy or whatever, but he doesn't look fancy. He isn't too thin or big, although maybe he has bit of baby chub here and there (he's still growing up :P) but overall he's healthy. I like to think he looks like a more masculine Jane Crocker, so he has Jake's features but looks softer ? you get what i mean. I also like to think he has thinner and straighter eyebrows, just to get that "innocent" hero look.

ROSE : To be quite honest I think people should point out how similar she's to Dirk sometimes. Like, I think she inherited his"vanity" to keep up appearances, esp about his hair. I like to imagine she keeps extra care of it, but doesn't quite know how to. I doubt she'd ask her mom how to do it, so her bangs become all dry and stringy in an attempt to have them pefect. I gave her lots of volume cuz I think it makes her look dramatic tbh. She looks masculine in the sense that I think she might have a little more muscle definition than Dave. I'm not talking body builder but like, you know how some people look a bit toned without doing anything ? That's that. Her face is more angled, her eyebrows are a little more filled in (like alpha Strider) but her sprite still shows she kept those enigmatic Lalonde eyes. Though I'd still like an aloof Rose Lalonde lol. She looks healthy enough, but not as she should be I think. Also she looks like an octopus.

DAVE : Same thing, I prefer to compare him to Roxy. Out of all the betas in my head he looks very soft. I don't personally draw his hair all rough like John's, for him it's more soft strokes and the like, to give the same impression as Roxy's little twirl thingy in her hair. His eyebrows are a little rounded too, not straight like Egbert's but definitely less harsh. As seen by Hussie's sketch of the Striders without glasses, he has big ol' eyes. So I'd imagine he has a more sultry shape than Rose. He's got a bit of a baby face. He's very skinny though, since Bro doesn't feed him properly. Physical activity + no food = bad tbh.

JADE : In terms of looks, she looks so bubbly. I haven't drawn all the alphas yet but I think she'd have Jake's "wonder" aura or wtv and Jane's big lashes, which gives her large anime eyes haha. She just has so much energy and wit. I tried to make her face look like Jane but with Jake's more "masculine" face shape, as in square. English just gave the "slightly square face shape" gene to his ecto-family lmao. So I tried to round the edges of her face abit, but it distinctly looks a little square. She probably has straight-ish eyebrows, but with a stern look overall ? Jane's skepticism about stuff comes to mind with that. Also I wanted to give the effect that if you shortened her hair she'd look like Jane and Jake at the same time (I haven't drawn the alphas ik but shh). She's probably healthy enough, I mean she has all the veggies and game she needs on her islands, and gadjets and whatnot. She might look the most normal with John, but her upbringing is left to be desired :(

i don't believe in artstyles personally, but that's what comes to mind usually

[loiswasadevil]

Hi Lois, I wanted to share extra information regarding the co-creators of South Park. I have a very grey but not neutral opinion on the show, so I won't try to tell you what to think about this. Also this is quite long and rambly, so if you'd rather not read it, that's okay!

Matt Stone is Jewish, but his parents didn't really "raise him Jewish" (for lack of a better term) if i remember corrrectly, as they are both atheists (Stone is as well). He is still ethnically Jewish of course, and someone can correct me but he didn't know this until he was 16. He said he did read an awful lot about Judaism and Jewish people, and I don't think their portrayal of the Broflovski family is completely negative. In some respects the firmness by which Kyle defends his identity and family can be nice to see on TV. I digress.

Matt Stone has written a few episodes (or co-written), and he voice acts in almost every episode, but his role overall is largely ideation and helping his co-creator stay on task and see the episode through. He does the important business side of things, and often the ideas that go into the shows are taken from him or are whatever made himself and Trey Parker laugh.

Trey is his co-creator and is not Jewish. He is the one responsible for a lot of the writing past the ideation stage and beyond making sure the plot tracks/things make sense. I feel like it just isn't 100% accurate to say Matt largely spearheaded the show, when the show is moreso about his dynamic with Trey, where Trey is the one with basically full creative control, only (or mostly) answering to Matt's second opinion. Matt defers to Comedy Central in Trey's stead as well, which is still a lot of work but mostly to keep Trey's work in tact.

Since I did go over what is known about Matt's experience being Jewish, I can cover (what I know regarding) Trey's experiences regarding Judaism. He grew up in a largely white, largely Catholic (or just Christian) town. He talked about how there was only one Jewish family in his choir or something? And how bad he felt for the 1 Jewish girl who had to go up and sing Hannukah songs after everyone was done singing Christmas carols. This might seem inconsequential but he chose to say this, though it must have been a bit ago when he was in his 20s so the memory was fresher. As far as I know, he hasn't said a lot else about it.

I think it might have been actually Matt who said this, but either way, one of them also had witnessed physical assault on Jewish peers at their school (I'm leaning toward Matt being the one who said this just because I think Trey just talked about hwo he felt sympathy for the girl in choir being the odd one out).

I will also say in terms of their partnership, Matt is viewed more as the one who has a dark sense of humor while Trey is considered to be the one with "heart." A lot of South Park overall is just the two of them making them laugh, and sometimes especially recently Trey will play off of "whatever Matt is pissed about today" for episode plots, and sometimes episodes feel like the A plot is Trey's idea while the B plot is Matt's, or vice versa... but regardless, Matt isn't the one writing the episodes (and he only co-wrote beforehand). That isn't to say either of them are genuinely anti-semitic, racist, misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic... but that isn't to say they aren't actually those things either.

I don't know what they currently think and i can't fully know what they were thinking when they said those things in interviews and whatever else. But we can still look at what is in the show and how people respond to its content, because REGARDLESS of Stone's involvement, if he does more or less in the development process, the show still had an effect on people that many would consider to be negative. I guess the question is how much do Jewish people need to be involved in a creative work for it to be "okay"? Does Matt Stone's involvement absolve South Park of being anti-Semitic or perpetuating anti-Semitism at all?

Anyway Lois, sorry for the long ask! Feel free to delete, I just used to be obsessed with South Park for years so I wanted to share what I knew. Let me know what you think!! I love your blog 🩷

Sorry I dont care about South Park so I didn't read this

[moltenwrites]

Writing interview tag!

Ohoho this one is exciting! Thanks @the-letterbox-archives for the tags. Your answers were sick, it was a very interesting read. This one is a long one, but the goal is to answer a LOT of questions. A empty list will be at the bottom with the tags!

About me

When did you start writing?

Oo im not sure? I started “ seriously “ writing a couple of years ago when I took a writing class, but I wouldn’t say I was really a “ writer “ untill I started working on How Our World Ended a few years ago

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?

Oh 100% I haven’t been reading that much lately, but I mostly read horror and mystery. While I sneak in horror sometimes, I’ve never really been compelled to write a mystery story

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?

If I’m honest, no to both of those. I have authors I love, but i have my own thing. And people don’t compare me to any author. Weither that’s good or bad is up to you I guess

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I write with my old, shitty Chromebook on my bed with my pillow propped up as a back rest. My PC keyboard is very loud and just not too fun to write with, and I despise writing on mobile. If I’m in the mood, I turn on some music and get to work

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I’m gonna answer this question in two different ways, how I get inspiration for ideas, and how I get in the writing vibe. For the first, it’s honestly just seeing something I like and going “ I wanna do that “ or listening to a song while some grand story plays out in my head. For ACTUALLY writing, that’s tricky. I normally write late, but if a friend is up talking about whatever thing ive really liked as of late can help. Thinking ahead to scenes I’m excited to write helps, especially when I listen to music that I tie to those moments.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?

I mean, I’m sure they did subconsciously somehow- but I tend to write in fantasy, and my suburban ass life doesn’t really lend to my ideas well. Though I will say, my moms fondness for museums has inspired Paintings a good bit

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?

Yeah, a good few. I’d say grief, and how it impacts people is the most prevalent theme across my stories. This is a bit surprising since I’ve ( fortunately ) not lost too many people in my life

Characters:

would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

Oo this one is HARD. I can pick my favorite for each story easily but OVERALL is really hard. I’m torn between Lars from Souls Collide, or The Artist from How Our World Ended. Both characters mean so much to me, and I’d say those two are the characters I’ve made with the most depth. Ughh this is difficult. I guess I’ll say Lars for now, just because of how prevalent and important to me he’s been

Also I know it’s not what the question is asking, but my favorite character that I DIDNT make is Sunny from OMORI

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

I think I’d vibe with most of the souls collide cast, considering they were initially based off of people I knew. I also think I’d get along with Asim and Astera from Paintings, along with Lyra and Val from How Our World Ended.

which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?

Oh god most of them. I write TERRIBLE people. Samaueal would just kill me- I’d hate Nelios, he’s a dick, Ryder from Souls Collide was based off of a person I disliked in real life, Salazar is pretentious and WOULD kill me, Dimitri is the worst- I can go on. But the worst is Samaueal, considering he would just kill me for the hell of it

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters?

It’s real weird. I either see something I like, and want to steal it in some way, so i base a character off of them. Asim and Astera are heavily influenced by Mary and Reginald from Cemetery Mary, Hart is inspired by Walter White, the whole council was inspired by the organization from Kingdom Hearts. But for characters I didn’t partially steal, it mostly just comes to me when listening to music. Some characters were also created out of necessity, and evolved far past that.

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?

Yup. I tend to write certain types of characters very formally, my protags are often shaken by one particularly harrowing event, and they almost all have some sort of huge internal fight with themselves.

How do you picture your characters?

It depends! Most of the time, I imagine every character in the style I wanted Souls Collide to be, but for certain scenes ( especially fights with Res ) I see it in live action.

My writing:

what’s your reason for writing?

I have a whole lotta ideas and gotta get them out SOMEHOW.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating?

Literally anything positive anyone says makes my day. You all have been more supportive than irl friends. But the things that make my day are either people predicting what comes next in private circles, and for comments here, saying that people like a character or are interested in a story makes me beam. I will die if I ever get fan art ( in a good way )

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

However they wanna. You don’t have to see me any way, but I’ve tried to be a positive force here, so I guess that.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I don’t wanna sound egotistical, but my ideas are really cool ( at least I think so )

What have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?

I’ve been told that what I can do is impressive. I remember one specific interaction about the artist that was incredibly kind.

How do you feel about your own writing?

It depends. I’m incredibly proud of my recent work. I love how Paintings is coming along, and I think the laster chapters of How Our World Ended are the best things I’ve ever written. Anything over two years old is dogshit though, I was in physical pain rereading the first draft of chapter 4

If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?

Gonna be real, don’t think I’d live. But in the event I continued living for whatever reason, maybe? I don’t know, that’s a hard ass question.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

I write plots entirely for myself, but I try to thing about what issues there are with my plot from a readers perspective. Idk if that sounds crazy, but thinking about stuff from an outsider perspective can be helpful in editing.

Annnd that’s all, this took me life half an hour wow. Here’s the question list ( It’s unspaced so fellow mobile users can actually copy it all ) Thanks for reading it all, if you did, it’s a super fun exercise!

About meWhen did you start writing?Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?can you tell me a bit about your writing space? What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?Characters: would you please tell me about your current favorite character? Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters? Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?How do you picture your characters? My writing: what’s your reason for writing?Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating? How do you want to be thought about by your readers?What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?How do you feel about your own writing?If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

Annnnd tag list!

@thatuselesshuman @ddgraywrites @jjoneswriting @revenantlore @aintgonnatakethis @yourpenpaldee @illarian-rambling @autism-purgatory @the-letterbox-archives @theverumproject @gioiaalbanoart @noxxytocin @joseph-hooser @mk-writes-stuff @yrndrgn @wyked-ao3

+ Open, as always

[uncanny-tranny]

I'm trans nonbinary and I really kind of hate myself for it and feel like such a fucking freak and I don't even know why because I didn't even grow up around a lot of homophobia or anything. I let everyone assume I'm a (trans) man because in my head if someone found out I was nonbinary they would just think I'm so fucking wierd, even when I'm in spaces or with people I know for a fact wouldn't actually think any of that. I don't feel this way about anyone else, just me. I'm really sorry if this is too much of a vent kind of thing I totally get you deleting it or whatever, but any advice you have would be really great.

I want to preface this by emphatically saying: Nobody here (least of all myself!) are judging you. I am sure many trans people who are following this blog know how you feel intimately. It's a consequence of the world we live in, not an intrinsic failure of character. I want to make this clear because you were incredibly vulnerable and I don't want you to worry that your vulnerability is a bad thing. It takes a lot to open up like this, no matter if you're on anon or not.

I've talked about this before, but this is a process that takes... a long time to work through, if I'm honest. I've been out since I was a young teenager, and now as an adult I still fall into the trappings of feeling similarly to you. What helped for me is to generally avoid judging myself for when I do feel like this. I think trying to outright ignore how you feel is very inefficient - I have tended to be a person who needs to feel those awful feelings so that I can look back and notice exactly what went wrong. I wouldn't specifically recommend that you do this - I have had many years of combating internalized transphobia to feel this is effective for myself. But, regardless of where you are in your journey of internal acceptance, I will advise this: don't judge yourself for these feelings. It is easy to do, but you don't deserve to have even more feelings of shame, isolation, or overall feelings of hopelessness or helplessness.

Often, we won't know exactly "why" we feel these feelings of internalized transphobia. For me, I also didn't grow up with outright homophobia, but I did grow up with the idea that I would only be loved if I was cishet, so when I discovered I was neither, it was jarring. I thought I would never be loved. And years later, I became open to the idea that I might have been wrong because there were people along the way - friends, certain family, strangers, even - who showed the love I felt I surrendered when I realized who and what I was.

It has helped me to expose myself to other trans people, as well. It's a delicate balance, at times, because there are moments where I find myself growing envious of another trans person for the way I perceive their own transition. It's a natural response, I guess, a natural human response that is amplified when you are part of a group that is often maligned. But I have found that the pros outweigh the cons: I see trans people of all identities now, trans people who look like me, who have incredibly similar experiences, who taught me so much about what it actually means to love and be loved. It's funny, because I'm largely a trans man (with caveats), yet some of the people who have deeply impacted me forever weren't always the same as I am (in fact, one of the first true "I look up to this person" experiences was from a trans woman who I still to this day admire and look up to).

I'm not going to lie, this (how you're feeling) is an incredibly common, but sometimes devastating result of so many factors. While we all go about these feelings in different ways, it can be hard. Therefore, it's important that we support each other. I want to offer my support to you, and let you know that you aren't going to be looked at by others in the way you might fear. It's hard to even conceptualize, honestly, but I am being honest. I understand that some of what I might have said won't resonate with you now, or ever, and that's okay. When we have a community to talk about ideas as a way of support, we can start to have more resources that we might be able to utilize effectively.

Your vulnerability right now isn't going unnoticed. It took a lot to express this, and I hope you might read this and feel even slightly better. I wish nothing but good things for you, nothing but bountiful joy and understanding that you deserve so much from this world.

[pillarsalt]

How do you cope with loneliness? My friends are so important to me but sometimes I feel like I can't fully relate to them anymore, and I just think about how they would hate me if they knew I was GC. I have TIF and even a few TIM friends that I love and cherish very dearly because I can see that they've just fallen victim to a toxic ideology feeding their body dysmorphia and self-esteem issues. But I can't tell them how genuinely worried I am about their mental health or send them detrans testimonies that I think they would relate to because they'd think I was some hateful violent monster that I'm not. Even the content creators that bring me joy and comfort are all so fiercely anti-TERF and it just makes me sad. I don't want to hurt anyone. I even distanced from the radfem community a bit because I felt like I was becoming too hateful towards men and TIMs when I truly believe many of the ones in my life are just trying their best and fell victim to a manipulative ideology that myself and other women also fell for. It's not that I wish I was still a TRA, because I feel much more at peace internally with my identity and my belief system, but I don't know if I can say peaking has made me happier overall. I feel like I don't fit in anywhere now. Making radfem friends helped a little bit but it's not the same as being around people I've known for years and gotten close to for reasons other than this one shared belief. I don't just want to abandon them all. And it's FRUSTRATING to see people spew misinformed fearmongered nonsense and not be able to actually help them dissect those beliefs. Feeling like the only one who sees things for how they really are, but forced to play along regardless, is just so restrictive and isolating.

To be completely honest with you, I don't have a great answer. I've been lucky to have one or two close friends at a time to whom I can tell everything, including my uncensored feminism-related beliefs. I've also been (and currently am) in friend groups with multiple people who identify as trans or are dating someone who identifies as trans, and have had to keep my thoughts and opinions to myself to keep the peace. I agree it's incredibly difficult sometimes, and I know a fair few of them would instantly drop me if they knew I was a "terf". It's kind of funny because I know some of them have an inkling of what I think about the issue, but say nothing so they don't have to fight with me. If anyone asked my opinion directly, I wouldn't lie, but I admit that I lie by omission.

It is hard to watch the ones who take the medicalization route hurt themselves. My ex girlfriend and I still talk, she's a they/them nonbinary now and despite always and still being very feminine and never expressing discomfort with her body before (including posting thirst traps often,) she wants to get a mastectomy soon. It sucks because of course after having looked into this phenomenon for so long, I'm well aware of the complications and side effects that can result from a major procedure like this: phantom pain/itching, extensive and restrictive scarring, the risks of infection and necrosis, and of course the risk of regretting having an entire organ unnecessarily removed from your body later on when it's no longer fashionable to do so. It sucks that voicing even the mere suggestion that it might be a bad idea is enough to have you shunned as an apostate. I genuinely care about her and I would feel similarly if she was having any other radical cosmetic surgery like breast implants or a BBL. At the end of the day, our friends will make their own choices regardless of how we feel about it, and the only thing we can really do is be there for them in the end.

I feel similarly to you in that I don't want to hurt anyone, only to protect people and especially women from the harms that are intrinsic to trans ideology. Unfortunately, you can't help anyone who doesn't want to be helped. Sometimes though, you can play dumb and ask questions that might get them to think a little bit more about the rhetoric they're repeating. For example, I often go out for drinks with coworkers, one of whom is a she/they nonbinary woman. One time she said something about how she couldn't be a full they/them because she's still 'girly' sometimes. I said something like "doesn't it seem kind of regressive to associate how feminine you are with how much of a woman you are? what about butch lesbians?" She didn't have an answer and brushed it off, but I could see the cogs turning a bit. Playing the uninformed normie pointing out the obvious sometimes gets them to realize how twisted the logic in trans echo chambers can be. And I think sometimes expressing your disagreement with the dogma can show your friends, who know you well and know you're a good person, that, contrary to what they've been told, not everyone who disagrees with gender ideology is an evil nazi out to slaughter transwomen in the streets.

But yes, in general, it is very very isolating to hold radical feminist beliefs. I'm sorry you're going through it. One thing to remember is, there are tons of women even in your general vicinity, who like you, don't buy into gender rhetoric but aren't saying anything in order to preserve their safety and social lives. I do believe that as the world seems to be becoming more aware of the reality of the situation, more and more people will feel able to be open about their dissent, and it will become less of a fringe opinion as the flaws in the ideology are exposed. Here's hoping I guess. Keep your chin up anon.