#i have studied so many maps

[formalmess]

🍥?

🍥 what's your favorite fic you've written? (from fic writer asks)

oh, certainly tangled thicket! before i even started conceptualizing it, i always thought of it as a passion project: the ol 'write what you want to read' mantra, y'know?

from a practical sense, in the past, i usually felt pressured to follow whatever current trends or fics i was writing that were getting the most attention, but in the end found myself overall unhappy with the work i was producing. with lmtt, i took my time in crafting the narrative from start to finish, and then went about at the speed i wanted when writing it.

from a creative standpoint, it just hits a lot of the points i really love! it has luigi's mansion as the focal background, and the beanbean kingdom as its setting—so i could do a lot geographically and culturally—and play around with underrated characters from superstar saga. and of course, writing peasley and luigi's adorably charming dynamic certainly incentivized me.

further, i love revenge plots, fun parallels to mess with (the day i thought of the toxic hellen/boo to the healthy luigi/peasley... art), and lots more! it also includes a lot of tropes i love, with all the drama and tension being derived from probable danger and angst... gotta love it.

i think i will always consider it my favorite project. and it is certainly my longest... and the longest in the luisley tag i think! cool little achievement. c:

[hinamie]

congrats on your recovery n all yuuji but unfortunately for you I thought the scars were cool >:/

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

It's the 6 month anniversary of this blog! Check out these cool bugs I found.

(EDIT: Check out this amazing fanart by thecornermushroom!)

Part 2 - Part 3

[crabussy]

MULTIPLE people thought I was australian on that poll.... head in hands

[astranauticus]

Rolling With Difficulty as texts I have saved on my computer for some reason

(i drew every day for like a month straight and burnt out so have this nonsense instead)

[passionfruitmango]

✨️✨️vent post✨️✨️

Honestly I am really not understanding the hard on that people have for debunking astrology.

That's so cool you found a fact based study debunking it all! Wow did you ever take interest in astro personally or does your healing involve attacking what you don't understand just like people have done to you?

Because I do find it really interesting that you read that whole study! But have you taken the time to learn about reading a natal chart and it's aspects? How planets can express themselves differently depending on which house they're in? How about expanding on that and exploring profection years and the charts that go with them. Any interest in astrocartography? Or is it just an interest in debunking things you haven't fully grasped yet?

It doesn't stop at learning basics, just like all things in life, you're never truly *done* learning. But if dismissing something that serves actual merit for people-and more importantly CULTURES outside your own-makes you feel something, cool whatever just block me about it because I'm tired of colonizers not understanding something and then deeming it as "bad" and "evil" instead of colonizing some knowledge to better understand something outside of your scope of normalcy.

But whatever. Keep "debunking" to shut things down. Like you're not doing the same shit you hate people doing to you.

[good--merits-accumulated]

tentatively mapping out the the little white horse au

[moe-broey]

Hhnghb

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

i need everyone to know that i bloody love the lotr films and i went from grinning like an idiot to gesturing wildly and trying to remember my sheet music bc I KNOW THAT ONE IVE PLAYED IT to crying bc of current or future tragedy or suddenly remembering that with the passing of this age all the magic we see will fade if it hasn't already. but also i will NEVER forgive them for the sound of boromir's horn, the great horn of gondor, passed through ages and generations to call for aid that shall always be heard by allies when it is within or at the bounds of gondor and its surrounding lands, because i was this close to crying and then this bloody horn STARTS BLARING LIKE A FUCKING CAR HONKING AND INSTEAD OF CRYING ALL OF US WERE LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY LIKE LITERALLY EVERY OTHER HORN SOUNDS SO COOL WHAT THE FUCK YOU FUCKING DESTROYED THAT SCENE I MEAN I STILL CRIED BUT ONLY AFTER I COULDNT HEAR THE BLOODY HORN ANYMORE THAT IS SPECIFICALLY SUPPOSED TO ALSO INVOKE EMOTION AT LEAST WHEN YOU'RE AS WEIRD ABOUT LOTR AS I AM WHAT THE FUCK I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THAT PETER FUCKING JACKSON AND EVERYONE WHO LET THIS HAPPEN

[septemberlikestea]

honestly thinking of the stained trinkets as trinkets that would be class restricted to protege if they were a playable character. has certainly done things to me.

[ofpd]

truly one of the greatest failures of the english language is that there is no good word for someone who makes/studies calendars. 'calendar maker' and 'horologist' both simply do not cut it.

[firealder2005]

pov:

you challenged the middle school geography nerd

Inspired by the USA states poll I just reblogged! Take this quiz to see how many European countries you can name in 8 minutes :^)

[sensenmaedchen]

In all seriousness. you know how street dogs eating the trash means the restaurant is good? (my mothers trick from her time in mexico)

if the Germans are there with their analog cameras and their socks-in-sandals, the vacation spot is good.

[jingerpi]

i know it sounds made up but studying Marxism will save you. like, understanding how and why society works the way it does and being able to have the knowledge that it wasn't always like this and one day this too will be surpassed will do wonders for your mental health. not to mention the tools for analysis and understanding can give you insight into yourself, because it does also do that, it's just that the knowledge and understanding that comes from studying socioeconomics derived from class struggle (rather than bourgeois intellectualism) recontextualizes so many of our issues and struggles that things no longer feel like they're explicitly you're fault nor do they stretch beyond our imagination infinitely into the past and beyond our futures. If you feel hopeless or confused, reading theory can genuinely help. it will solidify your understanding of the world and how to move forward, rather than simply pointing out all the problems (as many social media posts tend to) the answers are in theory.

the crazy thing is it's not just beneficial to our mental health but to our external, physical health too. learning these things can uplift the Proletariat as a class and start to bring us closer to those futures you'll become able to see. theory is a map to a better future, not only is it relieving to see there is one out there, we can actually follow it, and that's the best part.

[pucksandpower]

What the Eyes Can’t See

Charles Leclerc x blind!Reader

Summary: you may not be able to see in the traditional sense, but Charles won’t let that stop you from seeing him

The crackle of the fireplace fills the cozy living room as you snuggle deeper into the plush couch cushions. Your head rests on Charles’ chest, rising and falling with each steady breath. His arm wraps around you, fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder.

“This is nice,” you murmur, nuzzling against the soft cotton of his shirt. “Just you and me.”

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your head. “It really is. No racing, no interviews, no cameras. Just us.”

You smile at the rumble of his voice vibrating through you. “You know, there are times I’m actually grateful I can’t see.”

“Oh?” His thumb strokes your arm. “How so?”

“Because it means I experience things purely through the other senses. Like right now.” You inhale deeply, savoring the smoky wood blending with Charles’ warm, earthy scent. “I can really focus on the sound of your heartbeat, the feeling of you breathing, that wonderful smell ...”

Charles gives a contented hum. “I’ve never thought about it that way before.”

You shift to gaze up at him, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Of course, there are other times when not being able to see is … difficult.”

“Like what?”

You consider this for a moment. “Hmm, well, I’ll never get to admire the Monaco skyline or see you celebrating on the podium after a win.”

A hint of sadness tinges your tone as you continue. “And as much as I love listening to you talk about racing, I can’t fully picture the circuits or the cars or … or you in your race suit.”

Charles’ chest rises and falls with a soft sigh. You can sense his gaze studying you intently.

“Is there anything you wish you could see? If you could have your sight for just a day?”

You don’t even have to think about your answer. “You.”

You feel him tense in surprise. “Me?”

“Yes.” Your hands roam over the strong lines and curves of his face, trying to commit every plane and angle to memory through touch alone. “More than anything, I wish I could see what you look like with my own eyes.”

You trace the sweeping arches of his brows, the aristocratic slope of his nose, the firm line of his lips. Lips you’ve kissed so many times yet never seen.

“I want to see the exact shades of your hair and eyes,” you murmur. “Whether your skin has any adorable little freckles. What expressions flit across your face when you smile or laugh or ...”

You trail off as emotion clogs your throat. Charles pulls you closer, cradling you against his chest.

“Hey,” he says softly, tilting your face up toward his. “Maybe this will help.”

His warm fingers alight on your hands, gently guiding them until your fingertips brush the graceful curve of his cheekbone. You freeze, caught off guard by the tender intimacy.

“Charles?” You breathe. “What are you doing?”

“Letting you see me, in a way,” he responds. “Go ahead, map out my face with your hands. Don’t hold back.”

You swallow hard, heat creeping into your cheeks. Taking a steadying breath, you begin tracing the striking angles and planes of his features with feather-light touches.

First the high forehead, smooth and unblemished beneath your questing fingertips. Then the regal swoop of his nose, the delicate arches of his brows. You brush across each, imprinting the shapes and textures into your mind’s eye.

When your fingers graze the plump curves of Charles’ lips, he presses a soft kiss to each fingertip in turn. You shiver at the whisper of his breath fanning across your skin.

“Keep going,” he murmurs, voice low and husky. “Don’t stop.”

You let your hands roam freely over the stubbled planes of his jaw, the hollows of his cheeks, the strong column of his neck. Every slope and angle, every tiny perfect imperfection imprinted into your consciousness.

As your fingers trace along the high planes of Charles’ cheeks, you can’t help but notice two tiny indentations forming in the skin. Little divots that crease and deepen as an affectionate smile blooms across his lips.

Dimples. Charles has dimples.

The discovery hits you like a bolt of lightning, a rush of tenderness and endearment flooding your chest. You find yourself helplessly, hopelessly captivated by those adorable little dents punctuating his smile.

“You have dimples,” you murmur in awe, fingertips stroking over the precious divots again and again.

A low chuckle rumbles through Charles’ chest. “That seems to delight you.”

“Of course it does!” You exclaim, feeling your own lips stretch into a beaming grin. “Dimples are the cutest thing. Especially on you.”

You lean in to nuzzle your nose against his cheek, dropping feather-light kisses into each crease. Charles gives a contented hum, strong arms winding around your waist to pull you flush against him.

“I had no idea you’d be so smitten over a couple little dents in my face,” he teases, smile evident in his voice.

You shake your head vehemently, still peppering those blessed dimples with adoring kisses. “Not just dents. They’re absolutely adorable.”

A burst of affection blooms in your chest as you realize this is the first time you’ve been able to fully appreciate this charming little detail of Charles’ features. All the times you’ve laughed and joked together, exchanged warm smiles and loving embraces — you never knew the true adorability of his dimples until this very moment.

Pulling back, you cup Charles’ face in your palms and simply drink in the shape and feel of that beautiful, dimpled smile pressing against your skin. In that instant, you fall just a little bit more in love with this incredible man.

“I’m so grateful I got to discover this about you,” you murmur, stroking the pads of your thumbs over the grooves in his cheeks. “Your dimples are my new favorite thing.”

Charles gives a soft laugh, the rumbling vibrations resonating through you both. “Well then, I’ll just have to keep smiling so you can appreciate them.”

As you continue to trace the sharp edge of his cheekbone, you can’t resist leaning in to nuzzle against the warm, fragrant skin. Charles sucks in a sharp breath, fingers tightening around your wrist.

When you finally pull back, you feel as if you’ve beheld and memorized every nuance of his face. Every dip and curve, every tantalizing detail.

“Thank you,” you whisper, drinking in the comforting scents and sounds surrounding you both. The crackle of the fire, the rhythm of Charles’ breathing, his warm, intoxicating essence. “Thank you for letting me see you like that.”

Charles doesn’t respond at first. You feel his piercing gaze raking over you, studying you with an intensity that raises goosebumps along your arms.

“You know,” he says at last, voice rough. “There’s also something I want to see.”

Before you can ask what he means, gentle fingers are slipping beneath the frames of your sunglasses. You tense instinctively, pulse skyrocketing.

Nobody ever sees your eyes.

You start to pull away, shaking your head. But Charles simply holds you steady, thumbs stroking your temples in a soothing caress.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Let me in. Let me really see you this time.”

There’s no demand or expectation in his tone. Only tenderness and an affection so profound it steals your breath. Your throat works as you swallow hard.

Do you trust him enough?

You think of his face — the face you’ve just meticulously mapped and memorized. And in the cadence of his breathing, the rhythm of his heartbeat against yours, you find your answer.

Slowly, you give a tiny nod.

The sunglasses slip away, and for the first time you’re baring the full weight of your sightless gaze to another soul. You can’t see Charles’ reaction, but you feel his sharp inhalation, the minute tremor that courses through his body.

Panic grips you for a moment, wondering if you’ve made a terrible mistake by exposing such a vulnerable part of yourself. Maybe he’s revolted or pitying or-

“Beautiful.”

The hushed utterance shatters your wildly spiraling thoughts. You clutch at Charles, needing an anchor.

“What?”

“Your eyes,” he clarifies, reverence ringing in every word. “They’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

Gentle fingers cup your face, thumbs tracing the delicate skin beneath your sightless gaze. You yearn to ask him a thousand questions — what color they are, if any scars are visible, how he can possibly think them beautiful.

But then his lips are on yours, silencing your whirling doubts with a scorching, openmouthed kiss. You melt into the heated embrace, pouring all the unspoken words and insecurities into the slick slide of your mouths.

When you finally part, both of you are breathing raggedly. Charles rests his forehead against yours, fingers still mapping the curves of your face with infinite tenderness.

“Thank you,” he whispers again, voice tight. “For sharing this with me. For letting me all the way in.”

His thumb brushes the fragile skin beneath your eye, and you understand that he’s thanking you for more than just revealing your eyes. He’s grateful for the soul-deep intimacy you’ve permitted by exposing your most vulnerable and closely guarded self.

You swallow hard past the lump of emotion clogging your throat. No words can adequately express the depths of what you’re feeling. So instead, you simply lean in and capture Charles’ lips in another kiss, hoping he can taste the love and gratitude and trust shining through every caress.

When you finally pull apart, you cuddle back against Charles’ chest with a contented sigh, feeling more seen and cherished and adored than you ever have in your life.

As Charles trails tender kisses along your brow, his deep, soothing voice rumbles against you.

“No matter what, I’ll always be here to show you all the beauty and wonder you can’t see ...”

The words wrap around you like a warm, comforting blanket, chasing away any lingering insecurities. In this moment, cuddled in the arms of the man you love more than life itself, you’ve never felt more grateful for the unique way your senses experience the world.

Because really, what use are eyes when you can simply close them and see with your heart instead?

[drdemonprince]

I have heard from many trans and/or Autistic queer people that they like the idea of casual, anonymous sex of the sort that happens in the gay bathhouse, or the park marked on the Sniffies map, but they fear they will never be able to access it themselves. 

They assume that a trans person won’t ever be welcome, or that because they do not read neurotypical social cues with ease, the cruising ecosystem will forever remain inscrutable to them. Many harbor concerns about safety, having only ever been taught by movies and Law & Order episodes to associate cruising with seediness, criminality, and “threatening” male sexuality. 

I’m here to tell you that none of those impressions are accurate. Trans people are in the cruising spaces. We have always been there, we helped to shape these hidden corners and dusty backrooms into what they are, and for the vast majority of cruising patrons, our presence is not only welcome, but totally blasé. There are even trans-specific cruising nights in many areas! (See the bottom of this article for a list of Chicago-based ones!)

And though getting acclimated to the social norms of the sauna (or dungeon, or cruising bar) might seem confusing at first, it’s quite easy to study and mimic, even if you’re disabled. In many ways, it’s refreshingly more direct than most other forms of socializing. The cruising spot can be an arena for vanquishing shame, if you let it. 

Finally, it is important to note that it’s the seediness and secrecy of a cruising space that makes it so safe — it’s a self-policing community of queer people who respect the location, rely upon it, and who look after one another without the intruding eye of the straight public or the cops. 

If you’re queer and neuroweird and horny and you’re contemplating cruising, there is a place for you. You just have to overcome your understandable anxieties, study up on common cruising practices, and then venture forth to give it a try (maybe with a buddy the first time). 

In this piece, I will lay out some basic principles for cruising as a trans or Autistic person (though I think this advice applies broadly to anyone who feels a little out of place in cruising spots, which is everyone at first), explain the finer points of visiting backrooms, saunas, and parks specifically, and then I’ll wrap up with a list of resources for readers looking to find a cruising spot in their area. I’ll also close out with a list of cruising-related events in Chicago that are specifically T4T or sapphic in nature, because frankly, us gay dudes are wildly overrepresented in the scene. 

The full essay is free to read (or have narrated to you in the Substack app!) at drdevonprice.substack.com