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crimsonmochi · 2 days ago

Text

Intimate ― S. Gojo

Synopsis. Part 2 to "Personal" | Pornstar!Satoru is used to fucking for money's sake. It's something he does often and something he does really fucking well. When he is requested to guest you, however, it shocks everyone to see an immediate energy shift.

Pairing. Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Content. MDNI, fem! pornstar! reader, chubby! reader implied, gender neutral pronouns used for reader, but use of "girl" about twice, no use of "y/n", smut, p in v, fingering, creampie, sweet sex, some semblance of onlyfans, pussydrunk! gojo, gojo is left handed canon, still a little bit pathetic, still a little nasty, probable breaches of work boundaries, drinking mentioned, no beta

Word Count. 6.1k

Parts. one | two

A/N. thank you so much for the love on part 1! sorry for taking so long with this one, i was a bit busy for the holidays. part 3 and final part hopefully coming soon in a theater near u

Seventeen times. And a half.

Since the tape came out on his page, Satoru Gojo had jerked off to it seventeen times. He only counts the half because he technically had finished that one time, but it was too humiliatingly early to even fully count.

It worried him at first. Sure, he was aware of his high sex drive, but never had a single video—a single person—managed to have him this worked up. He even had it downloaded to his phone, and downloading porn had never been a thing Satoru envisioned himself doing, ever, even if it was his own.

Every now and then, his mind would go blank and remind him of how you looked, how you sounded, how you smelled and how you felt. He remembered how you looked at each other, the burns your eyes had permanently left on his soul. He remembered making out with you on the studio bed after you had sucked on his fingers, a primal urge to taste you consistently and refusing to stop even to breathe. And he remembered your smile against his lips and how embarrassingly giddy it had him feeling.

Satoru hadn't turned the cameras off right away. He stayed with you in bed, and you didn't seem to mind, chatting it up rather normally while he laid on top of your body, heavy as a rock and as your fingers brushed through his hair. He had never spent over a minute with his co-stars after filming before. You were different. And he liked that you were different.

What he did not like was what came with you being different, the unknown.

Satoru was used to one-night stands, situations, and things that could have become something more but ended after one conversation about what he did for a living. Connections ending abruptly, accounts unfollowed, numbers deleted. It never shook him emotionally; he would be at most bummed out for the afternoon because, damn, she was hot or fuck, I liked her voice. Never anything serious.

And sure, whatever he had with you might have started as pure sexual attraction, but you weren't just a pretty face and a hot body.

He had explained it to Suguru as having a box full of your favourite chocolates and one flavour never tasted before. He liked all the other chocolates because they were his favourites, but once he tasted the unknown flavour, the other ones started to be dull to the senses―to which Suguru responded by calling him an idiot, of course.

It hadn't helped that you two started calling shortly after the video went live, your sweet voice and soft waves of laughter making his situation exponentially worse. Satoru put a lot of effort into being as casual and kind as he could be, careful not to scare you off and desperate to keep you around if only just milliseconds longer.

To your surprise, Satoru turned out to be a great listener—a little too great, at times, when you wondered if he was still listening after long monologues. He was attentive, remembered details you wouldn't even expect your closest friends to remember, which made your lips curl and your heart feel a little warm.

You had confessed on a particularly inebriated that you only got into the industry to pay off your education and some of your parents' debt and that it was supposed to be temporary. You explained that you were actually qualified for very high-profile jobs, but since you now had a "questionable internet history" that employers kept bringing up at interviews, you had given up on that, which took some coming to terms with on your part. And Satoru listened to that story, heart clenching when you thanked him for the opportunity he gave you to make a little bit more money this month.

Weird how you conveniently found a deposit in your bank account the next morning. He swore up and down he did not know the first thing about it, but even if it had come from him, he would not want you to take it as a gift of pity but rather a late bonus for your hard work. But it definitely wasn't him, sweet thing.

The gifts didn't stop after the money incident. Now that Satoru understood you better and that small gestures were the way to go rather than an exceedingly ridiculous amount of money to gift someone, he went with that. He ordered flowers to your home with no cards, trinkets and stickers he found at those seemingly breaking down records shops Suguru would drag him into.

Satoru never left any indication that it was his doing, and you had never brought it up to him. But he knew that you knew, and that was all he needed.

All your assistant ever heard these days was "Satoru this" and "Satoru that." Your constant gushing had made it abundantly clear that your relationship was a little bit more than professional and even transcended that of a friendship.

"Seems like you've really... taken a liking to that guy," she once said in the passenger seat of your car.

"I'm telling you, Sammy, he's nothing like he seems in his content. You'd like him," you had responded, pausing to contemplate your next words. "Plus, we're just, like, friends..."

"Friends who want to fuck each other bad, from what I heard."

"But friends nonetheless."

Silence fell at a red light, the hum of the tires rolling against the pavement dissipating.

"Plus, I don't think he's... he wouldn't go for me, is all I'm gonna say," you mumbled, fingers gripping the steering wheel.

Sammy scoffed, a tiny smirk at the corner of her lips.

"Yeah right."

For the most part, you were happy to have Satoru around, and he was happy to stay. But the satisfaction devolved into wanting, neither of you being brave enough to make the first move. Although Satoru was fine with even just having you in the picture, he wished he could film with you again, see you again. Touch you again.

And even if you both didn't truly know what you were, what you wanted from each other, it was peaceful to have another's presence the way you and Satoru did.

That lasted until about a month later when a studio approached Satoru, intending to remake the magic of your and him's video, with big money involved.

"You see, your uhm... tape, so to speak, I'm sure you're aware of the numbers it did," blabbed some man in a blue stained shirt and a moustache that didn't exactly connect.

"'Course," mumbled Satoru, slumped on an office chair, his eyes fixated on that moustache that barely qualified as one.

"Well, it seems that our female demographic these days is into that sort of played-up intimacy, you know. We're placing our big bets on your ability to do that."

This guy—Itsuki, as Satoru recalled—was a director for this falling pornography production studio. He knew what he was talking about for the most part, yet was still hiding the fact that this was a last-stretch attempt at keeping the business alive. "Big bets" was an understatement; nobody offered the amount of money they did if they weren't desperate.

God, he really, really hated studios.

"Played up?" Satoru questioned, shaking his head. "That wasn't played up I just..."

"Listen kid, you're the industry big shot," Itsuki grumbled.

"I am?"

Satoru's numbers had been high, but he had never considered himself to be anything other than just another attractive guy who happened to be good at sex as well. Calling him a "big shot" only cringed him out.

"Oh yeah, trust me, you're talked about a lot. It's a good thing. Ya got the X factor. You're versatile, people love you," the man continued, turning in his chair like a tall child, "And we just, uh... need a bit of your talent right now."

Satoru sighed, contemplating his options. On the one side, it was something he hated; being directed and ordered around like a show dog really was not his style, and he'd rather chew on a dirty tire than deal with that energy for even just one day.

But on the other hand, this would allow him to do something for you. Something he had been thinking about doing for a little while.

He really, really, really hated studios.

"Alright. I'll do it. Let me call my girl—" mumbled Satoru, reaching for his phone.

Itsuki raised his hand dismissively, earning a puzzled look from Satoru.

"Oh, sorry, you've misunderstood. We're gonna bring in one of our own actors for this job. Your girl, they're not exactly what we're, uh, looking for, if ya know what I mean," Itsuki chuckled, raising his pen to his lips, an amused look on his face.

"I don't know what you mean."

Satoru's tone had turned icy, blue eyes piercing through Itsuki's soul with disgust. Satoru had a pretty good idea of what he was arguing. His body tensed at the prospect.

"They're not exactly the, uh... body type we're lookin' for, y'know?"

"Yeah, no thanks, deal's off," Satoru groaned, rolling his eyes as he got up, already halfway across the room before Itsuki reserved the audacity to keep speaking.

"We'll throw in an extra few thousand."

Satoru found himself in a break room, reading the dumbest script of his whole career, with a girl with a stupid stage name and Itsuki. Any attempts made to change something in the script were quickly shut down by 'Honey Suckle,' the tall blonde clinging to his arm like he was her life force. He barely even glanced at her when she spoke; he didn't need to. Her voice was irritating enough.

He could not get his brain to shut off for even two seconds, thoughts racing. He kept forgetting the script, rolling his eyes at the dumb dialogue, and most importantly, for the first time in his entire life, he couldn't get it up for what seemed like an hour.

Until that is, he thought about you. The soft sound of your laughter, your eyes on him, your pussy sweet and tight around him, shit, that did the trick.

Honey didn't make the task an easy one. Satoru was lucky to be blessed with an adequate set of acting skills and a talent for pleasing women, this time for the sake of finishing this ordeal early and getting out of there with the money he was promised.

Just when he thought he was free, walking back to his makeshift dressing room—which had peeling paint that crumbled and left a white dust on his clothing and a cracked ceiling, adding to the desolate atmosphere of this sorry establishment—to get ready to leave, Honey ambushed him, demanding his number with an attitude that lacked class and bridged into spoiled brat territory.

Satoru was not surprised to learn that she was the one who orchestrated everything from the script to the over-the-top romantic set in the first place.

Reaching his front door after that day felt like reaching the gates of heaven. Satoru wasted no time hopping in the shower until his anxiety melted away and until he felt safe from the claws of that Honey girl, nearly scorching hot water cascading down from his head to his feet. A thick fog of condensation stuck to the glass and the mirror, shielding him from the emptiness of the room, perhaps.

With his leaned against the cold tiles, his hand reached out to grasp the soap bottle, and finally, a moment to himself, Satoru could not stop the reoccurring daydreams of you in this very place. Your thighs around his waist, your digits in his locks. Your bodies warm to the touch, skin sliding against skin. He could picture his hands on your chest, using the excuse of washing your body to touch, to feel. Taking you against the wall, the glass, leaving handprints that would linger for a few hours later.

And then, maybe, switch from the shower to the bathtub. Your body leaning on his chest, his lips against the nape of your neck, just gently holding you close. His fingers would prune up, and his head would rest on your shoulder, his eyelids too heavy to keep open. Maybe you would tell him it was dangerous to sleep in water, and he'd mumble something about not even being tired.

Despite the thought putting his mind at ease, he recognized the distant fear of vulnerability within himself. But it was dimming with every time he spoke to you; he was changing and seemingly adapting to the way you made him feel.

Satoru called you that same night, a little bit later than usual, unsure if you would even pick up when he glanced over at the clock on the wall, ticking amongst the silence. You answered, your usual quiet "hey" emerging from his phone's speaker, but it was... off to Satoru.

You sounded tired, distant even. He asked, pressed to understand if something was wrong, yet all he received in exchange were non-reassuring two-word sentences and mumbles of affirmations.

He didn't feel good about hanging up that night.

And he felt worse when he didn't hear from you in the next few days.

Satoru simply could not take the silence. It physically pained him to no end, like a sickness bubbling at the pit of his stomach. He was afraid that if he let it bubble enough, it would reach his throat to choke him out and make him perish.

When he wanted to treat you as a retired distraction, a mere phase of his life, the emotions came back to haunt him tenfold, the whiplash causing his usually already short temper to be microscopic.

He stalked your page almost every night, once finding a new upload of you taking it from the back, some random guy he had never heard of clumsily thrusting at an uneven pace. Satoru was almost certain you didn't even finish. Actually pathetic.

Before he knew it, Satoru was typing in the comment section, writing something along the lines of "He didn't even make you cum lol, you look bored as fuck, he's such a loser," before giving up on pressing the post button when he realized how unhinged he would come across.

Things were almost back to the way they were before he met you. And he absolutely hated it.

Satoru nearly punched Suguru when he had the gall to invite him to a wedding―a distant relative of the Geto family that Suguru insisted he had to attend the wedding of―because he thought it would be "good for him" and would "help him figure out what he wants."

Suguru may have had to drag Satoru to the event, but he did attend and stayed until after the ceremony, only for the drinks. And he drank, not until he was drunk, but enough to keep his emotions at bay for a little while.

Satoru walked outside the venue to get some air while Suguru talked to his second cousin. Standing in front of the busy street, Satoru took a deep breath and admired the lights of the cars passing by, street lights, windows and traffic signs, all coming together forming a multicoloured mosaic. The cool air hit his face and made him shiver, turning his head slightly to the left.

The street he was on happened to be the street you lived on. Satoru blinked once, twice; maybe he was imagining things. He knew your address by heart from ordering so much shit to your place, and he knew he wasn't blind either.

Sooner than he could even rationalize it, his feet were taking him down the street, looking closely at the numbers. He roughly estimated being about two blocks away from your apartment complex.

His mind started working overtime, giving him reasons to turn back, like, what if you had company over? What if there was another man there, in your bed, right now―and if anything, it only encouraged his body to move forward.

Satoru crossed the street, looking at the number at least six times before entering the entryway call box, his fingers hovering on the keypad, wondering if he should ring you or just a random person. A stranger would be 50/50 at this hour, but he was almost assured that if he picked you, his chances were near zero, given how you had ignored his calls in the past week.

He went with the stranger, dialling some random four digits and crossing his fingers. Hopefully, they wouldn't answer and ask questions―

"Hello? Is this Domino's?" a male voice, probably late 20's, answered after a few rings.

"Uhm... yeah?" Satoru squeaked. Whatever happens next will be the pizza delivery guy's problem.

The guy buzzed Satoru in without another question, leaving Satoru concerned about security in the establishment if it was this easy for him to get in.

6th floor, 683.

The anxiety started to set in only in the elevator on the way up. He hadn't planned this; in fact, he hadn't planned anything. He didn't even know what to say. He didn't even know why he was doing this. Why you, of all people. Why you, of all people, reserved the ability to reduce him to this, naked and vulnerable for you.

Or why he hoped, deep in his gut, that he could do the same to you.

Satoru almost wished that the walk from the elevator to your apartment was longer as he stood there. He nearly moved to look through the peephole, but nah, that'd be creepy.

He listened in instead from where he was standing, discerning from the silence that there was no one with you.

And so, he raised his fist.

And knocked.

You froze in your living room, whirling your head towards the doorway, cautious not to make a noise. You hadn't ordered anything, and a girl living by herself was probably better off not answering the door from an unknown visitor at 10 in the evening.

Satoru shut his eyes, cringing at himself in a moment of realization, though he did not leave. He leaned his forehead against your door, his palm over the frame above his head.

"You there?" he asked.

You knew that voice.

You moved quietly to stand in the doorway, careful to land your feet softly on the floor.

Satoru reopened his eyes and glanced down, seeing that the light was peeking through the bottom of the door and that a shadow was moving through.

"I know you're here, sweet thing," Satoru said, firm yet soft. "You can―" he sighed, "You can tell me to go away, and I will, but I just... I don't know what I'm here for, actually. Jus' wanna see you, is all."

His voice sounded like a whine, picking away at your resolve. He waited there for a minute in silence, giving you time to make your choice.

But he was silently begging you to choose him.

Satoru should have felt relieved when he heard your door lock and saw the handle turn, though it instead stuck his breath in his lungs.

It hadn't helped that he saw you standing in a pretty pastel nightgown, with a face devoid of makeup and mismatched socks. Such a beautiful, natural state that made his heart stop and his dick twitch with interest. He was trying not to let his eyes linger on your chest, your thighs, your everything that wasn't your face for too long.

What a sight for sore eyes.

That isn't to say Satoru was not a pretty view himself, his tie halfway undone around his neck, sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to right above his elbows, hair messy, eyes tired, and cheeks rosy―partly from the alcohol, partly from the cold, and partly because he felt like he had just been struck by a deity in the sky just looking at you―all while leaning on your doorframe and staring like he had been starved of something while away from you. Which he had, in his perspective.

"Y'don't answer your phone anymore, sweetheart?" asked Satoru rhetorically, words dripping in sarcasm.

"You show up to people's apartments uninvited now?" you retorted, employing the same tone.

"Would you cut the bullshit for a second? I'm being serious."

"Didn't sound like it."

Satoru was surprised to find you had bite, talking back to him with a little sass. He liked it. And maybe he'll fuck the attitude straight out of you later.

"That little radio silence thing you're on? Can't stand it," he went on, keeping the soft edge to his tone.

"I've been busy, you shrugged.

"Not too busy to get your back blown out by a guy who couldn't last two minutes."

"What, are you jealous?"

"Of what? His performance? Amongst the worst I've seen."

"That he got to blow my back out."

"Not jealous. Just pissed."

"Mh."

Satoru took a step closer, hand leaving the door frame to land on the wall above you as you crossed your arms, staring at the man towering over you with the same intensity he had in his blue eyes.

"Why are you ignoring me, love?" Satoru mumbled, letting insecurity and vulnerability peer through his voice.

"Because I don't know what you want. And I don't want to end up being just... another girl, y'know?" you admitted, dropping your gaze to his crinkled and half-open shirt.

Satoru's eyes softened, stepping too close to close the door behind him. You caught the scent of his cologne before he stepped back once more, and fuck, you needed him.

"There was this... other woman who posted on social media about how she was your girlfriend and all that," you went on, playing with your fingers as a distraction. "And then when I checked her out there was a video of you two in this whole like, romantic setting thing so... and like, I totally get it, I'm―I just didn't know what to do. Or what to think."

Oh, hell no.

"She's not my girlfriend," Satoru nearly interrupted. "I can swear that on my life, we just filmed together. I don't know why she's posting that, but I can promise you that I barely even tolerated her. She's not the one I want."

That authoritative voice nearly made you forget the conversation you both were having.

"Matter of fact, I'm a bit offended that you would think that we had any chemistry whatsoever; I had to work my ass off to even make it look remotely believable," he scoffed, a grin returning to his lips.

Satoru was desperate to see that smile on your face again.

"Well, I didn't know what to think, I mean, she seemed like she could be your type," you replied sheepishly.

"If you think that's my type, sweetheart, I've still got lots to teach you," he purred, voice low.

Satoru reached his palm to your face, feeling the warmth of your flesh beneath his fingertips. He snaked his hold to the nape of your neck, pulling you forward towards him, his neck craned to meet your figure with his. His nose and lips brushed against yours teasingly, putting on a show.

"Come on, tell me to leave. Tell me I can't be yours."

Toying with a strand of your hair and looking through his long white lashes, he was unwilling to make the first move. Or rather, Satoru wanted you to tame the uncertainty bellowing from the pit of his stomach. Fearing rejection was unfamiliar to his heart, but knowing it to be a testament to your importance mellowed the burn.

"Tell me that I can't have you."

Satoru was only merely surprised by your arms wrapping around his neck to bring his lips to yours, adapting quick and shutting his eyelids, languid movements of your tongue against his, sobering him up completely to get him drunk on a different type of substance.

His hand left the wall to come softly grip your thigh, moving to its underside to encourage you to jump.

"But what if I'm―" your voice came out breathless.

"Don't offend me right now, sweet thing."

You jumped, trusting him to catch you―and he did, without so much as a grunt, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, supporting you with his forearms under your thighs.

"See? No need to doubt me," Satoru mumbled against your lips.

The kiss was slow yet messy, sloppily reverberating passion and a twinge of desperation. Within a break for oxygen―which he could have gone without if up to him―Satoru asked for the directions to your bedroom, kicking his shoes off somewhere between the entryway and the hallway.

Satoru was thrilled to see the room he had seen on Facetime with you a few times; it was perfectly tailored and personal to you. It was one thing to see, but it was another to be in your space with you.

He set you down on your bed carefully, keeping your legs to the sides of his waist as he crawled above you.

"You're just too good, y'know that? Fuck, you made it so hard to focus," said Satoru, admiring the sight before him.

"I wasn't even there."

"You were everywhere. Couldn't... couldn't think straight... couldn't stop..."

His voice trailed off as his eyes dropped lower to your hips, your thighs. Satoru traced an imaginary line on the inner side of them, agonizingly slow, your nightgown pooling and lifting at his wrist. He ran his finger on a small patch of your underwear where your arousal had soaked through the fabric, a stupid smirk on his face.

"Can I keep these after?"

He chuckled softly when you rolled your eyes and turned your head to the side, flustered. How cute.

Satoru began to take your panties off, shifting on top of you to make the task possible, bunching up the fabric in his hands and shoving them in his pocket with a wink.

He dipped two of his fingers between your slit, avoiding your clit on purpose, smiling down at you when you frowned at him.

"What? Tell me what you want. Big girl words, come on."

No script, no pre-determined routes, just genuineness.

"Just touch me, Satoru..." you mumbled, unsure.

"Where?"

Oh my god, this asshole.

You gasped as his fingers ghosted over your clit, begging him to touch there.

"Right here?" Satoru questioned, fake innocence etched onto his face as he stroked the sensitive nub slowly.

"Mhm," you sighed out.

The pace he had set was too slow, but he was aware of that. He did not want to make you cum, at least not right then, he simply wanted to drive you insane, give you a taste of your own medicine―so to speak.

Satoru replaced his fingers with his thumb, digits reaching over to your entrance, circling the opening.

"You have no fucking clue, do you? How mad you can turn a man. How long I would wait, what I would give up just to be yours. You don't even realize―"

He pushed his fingers in with one deep thrust, letting you whine and mewl at him before resuming his sentence, moving his index and middle in and out of you.

"You don't even realize how unhinged you make me―fuck, look at that, already soaking my hand, shiiit, and you're so tight..."

Satoru's eyelids were half closed, focused on the soft squelches of your pussy and the sight of it, ignoring his erection begging to be released from those tight black pants.

"And then you go out and fuck some guy who can't even make you cum? Who doesn't even take his fucking time to learn your body to fucking treat you like the deity you are. Now that's bullshit, and you know it, sweetheart. I know you're smart."

He sped up the pace, hitting your spot with deliberate and merciless movements, high on your moans and the way your back arched for him, mind stuck on his objective.

"Should've called me, I would've eaten that pussy for hours, would've done it for free. For less than free. Fuck, would've paid you for it."

Satoru's incessant speaking drove you up the wall, your fingers tightly gripping the sheets, his motions precisely designed to satisfy you but never quite send you over the edge.

"Satoru," you panted, sweat beading on your body.

"Yes?"

"Want more... please..."

"Anything you want, pretty."

He timed the thrusts of his fingers with the circling of your clit, increasing the pace while keeping a delicacy to his endeavours, capturing your lips in a small, shallow kiss before leaning his forehead on yours.

Right when Satoru felt your thighs start to tense at his sides, your breath quicken on his face, your walls fluttering, and the urgency in your voice, he...

Stopped.

Pulled his fingers out and licked them right in front of you, making sure your eyes were on him.

"I was so close―this is the second time you've done this," you whined, eyes closing as you felt the pure need coursing through your veins like a spreading disease.

"First time doesn't count; it was on camera," Satoru shrugged. "Come on, don't make that face. Besides, I'm punishing myself too. Watching you cum is the hottest thing ever."

With a groan, you pushed Satoru to his back and lifted yourself onto him in one move.

Satoru didn't know if he was in love before, but this certainly did it.

"My, my, woman. Didn't know you had that in you."

Even under you, the man had to stay smug, an arrogant smile on display just for you. You pouted and started undoing the buttons of his shirt without a word, which he did not move to fight, simply observing your meticulous work with his forearms under his head.

"Just like that, use me, sweetheart; you deserve it."

You couldn't ignore how Satoru's voice made your core drip, the stain of slick you had inadvertently left on the lower part of his dress shirt, or the comment he made about never washing that shirt again.

"You're nasty."

"You love it."

When you reached his pants, having shimmied further to gain access to it, you hesitated.

"Don't tell me you're shy now," Satoru taunted.

"You can't―you can't blame me. I haven't had sex for real in a while," you retorted, a small smile forming on your lips, catching his gaze.

"It felt pretty real last time."

There was a certain sincerity in his voice, contrastingly different from just a moment ago, vulnerable. You could see it in his eyes, the way in which they conveyed everything he had ever felt, giving and sharing strands of thought and emotion.

"That was different," you mused, moving to take his pants off.

Satoru lifted his hips to help you, silent as for your words. He did not want to push and ruin this by digging, searching to understand every inch of your soul, of your experience with him. Although it was tempting.

He moved to sit up against your headboard, biceps flexing. He took his boxers off, cock standing tall and proud, achingly hard. Satoru took your forearm in his hand to pull you closer until you were straddling him, his length slipping between your slit.

"Use me," repeated Satoru, murmuring. "I'm all yours. Take what you want."

He moved his hand to your face, thumb sliding over your cheekbone. Satoru gazed up at you with a glint of devotion in those deep blue eyes, devoid of any uncertainty or hesitation, pretty white brows furrowed lightly with gut-wrenching warmth. Fondness was too shallow of a word to describe it. A little pathetic was surface level.

A second hand left your forearm to rest on your hip, imprinted nicely on your flesh. Satoru helped you lift yourself to sit back down on his cock, drinking your little mewls and gasps, groaning when he was fully seethed in your tight heat, as if it were his home.

"Mph, fuck, the wait was so worth it," he exhaled, both of his palms migrating to your waist. "Want some help, beautiful?"

You nodded yes, busy with the feeling of the wind being knocked out of your lungs. Satoru smiled and helped you lift yourself, length dragging out of your sopping cunt, to help you back down. He moaned shakily as you set a slower pace than what he was used to, losing himself in the feeling of your cunt around him.

"Y'know I... I watched our v-video so many fucking times. Started to―fuck, so fucking tight around me..."

"Started t-to what?" you whimpered, letting your head drop to his shoulder, panting quietly against his skin.

"Started to feel guilty f-for doing it, fuckin' jerking off to you... after you'd just told me some fuckin' innocent shit about your day or something... Oh my god... missed this, s'much."

Satoru moved one of his hands to lift your head off his shoulder, holding your face to force eye contact. His lips were parted, shameless with the endless grunts and groans of satisfaction your body forced out of him. He just about lost it when he felt your pretty hands on his chest, desperate for something to touch, to grab.

"Angle your hips that way, sweetheart," Satoru murmured, hand at your side moving you.

His thick tip hit your spot with a particularly harsh bounce, eliciting a high-pitched moan from you. Your thighs twitched around him, and your eyes rolled back as he whined at the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against his, the wet noise of his cock dripping and enveloping with your essence.

"I think I'm gonna cum," you breathed out.

"I know, I know pretty... I can tell by the way you squeeze around me, shitttt..."

Satoru felt like the world around him was spinning, listening to your voice, your pretty face, your body. The way your hands tightened around his pec inadvertently, the subtle sheen of sweat on your skin, your concentrated expression, so fucking adorable.

He pulled you in to connect your lips, trapping you in a searing, sincere kiss, swallowing your breaths, taking from your air. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tight but not enough to hurt. His nose brushed against yours as he turned his head for better access, pressing his face against yours as if he were scared you would evaporate beneath his fingers.

Satoru bit your lower lip and lightly dragged it away with his front teeth when he felt he was finally satisfied, although he had to force every muscle in his body to just let you breathe.

"'M gonna take care of ya... gonna fuckin'―fuck―gonna give you everything, promise... I swear, e-everyday I'll prove I'm good e-enough for you, every fuckin' day 'til I die, holy fuck."

Until my body gives out to the stars.

Your thighs started to give out, the strain making your movements less fluid and more scattered. Satoru started to meet you halfway with a thrust of his hips, sliding a hand down to toy with your clit, just like he'd seen you do before.

"Satoru," you breathed, tone wanton and desperate.

"Fuck, d-don't say my name l-like that unless you wanna make me―"

Satoru's ears started to ring, and his vision went blurry as he spilled himself deep inside your willing cunt, little whimpers contrasting the deep groans from earlier. His head fell back on your headboard, Adam's apple bobbing while his eyes got teary.

"S-So good, so pretty f'me, fuck..." Satoru squeaked out.

He continued his finger's assault on your cunt, flicking and rubbing at a faster pace. He just needed to see you cum. Needed to see you cream on his cock, just like you deserved.

Satoru looked at you as if you had hung the stars in the sky, watching you convulse, pant, do anything to brace yourself with this impending orgasm, finally sending over the edge with a sharp pinch of your clit.

And he didn't just stop at that; when he had regained his ability to speak, he offered to clean you up, take you to the bathroom, run you a bath, dumb shit that he thought you'd appreciate that he wanted to do for you. Didn't even recognize himself anymore.

You accepted the first two offers but not the last, seeing as it was late and you were tired, not only from the day but riding his dick, losing yourself in his arms.

Satoru found a cloth in your bathroom and warmed it up with tap water. He made sure it wasn't too hot to the touch before he climbed back in bed, gently cleaning your thighs, your mound, anywhere he thought leaving dirty would be uncomfortable.

Although seeing your hole nicely filled with his seed almost made him ask for a second round.

"I do care about you. Wanna do right by you, if you're okay with that," Satoru murmured.

"I'll keep you around," you responded.

Parts. one | two

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siggiedraws · 2 days ago

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I like your essay but does it really irk you if Sonic is Ever portrayed differently even somewhat in other media? He can still have great character even if it doesn't always fit your ideal for it

Thank you, I'm glad you like my essay! My response to this will be quite long-winded, so bear with me.

I am not oblivious to how irrational it may come across for me to essentially admit I dislike all different interpretations of Sonic. But personally speaking, if I am to be completely honest with myself, yes, it does irk me. Their differences almost always compromise Sonic’s appeal, making them unlikeable to me.

My question is, if you are going to remove what makes pre-existing material so special in an adaptation, why is it even an adaptation of pre-existing material? This is a rhetorical question; I know the answer is purely due to cynical marketability reasons. Media is almost guaranteed to generate money if it features a popular, recognizable character. For obvious reasons, I do not think prioritizing marketability over artistic integrity is a good thing that should be defended or encouraged.

My argument is simple: Is it possible for a different interpretation of Sonic to be a good character? Sure, in a vacuum. You can replace any beloved character in fiction with Sonic instead by doing nothing but slapping some blue spikes on it and calling it a day.

My issue is that wouldn't make it a good interpretation of Sonic the Hedgehog because there is no reason for it to be Sonic.

I feel that now is a good time to finally talk about this.

My wariness of divergences in Sonic adaptations, is in part, based in the knowledge that the people at Sonic Team had their creative vision completely disrespected and dismissed overseas.

(SOURCE) - Yasushi Yamaguchi's Twitter

(SOURCE) - Masato Nishimura's Twitter

(SOURCE)

Sonic Team had no say or power in how Sonic was depicted in the U.S. In some cases, they had no idea that changes were even made until they were told by someone.

There is this distinct sense of cultural superiority coming from Sega of America. Did you know that Sega of America considered Sonic's design "unsalvageable" and insisted it needed to be changed? Did you know that Sega of America tried to "educate" Sega of Japan at character design because they saw them as incompetent at designing good characters?

(SOURCE)

Yes, this is primarily about Sonic's design being "too Japanese." This is corroborated in Sonic the Hedgehog Gametap Retrospective.

As an artist, it is really devastating to hear this story. Putting myself in Sonic Team's shoes yields nothing but sorrow. This flagrant disrespect towards artists' creative visions is odious to me.

Now compound this with the fact that Sonic has had a consistent lack of fidelity in adaptations since he was created, especially in the West, and I hope you can see my perspective here.

To go back to my initial topic on Sonic's characterization, I think that my position can come across unreasonable if you are a person who does not feel particularly strongly one way or another about it. It is completely fine to feel this way. Everyone can enjoy media however they please. For the vast majority of media I consume, I do not pay nearly as much attention and devotion to character consistency.

Sonic is different.

Sonic as a character is extremely important to me. He has gotten me through many hard times in my life and he continues to endlessly inspire me. Whenever I am faced with a tough situation, I hear Sonic’s voice in my head, encouraging me to be strong. Encouraging me to do my best. Encouraging me to keep living. Sonic is my favourite fictional character of all time. He means so much to me that it’s impossible to put into words.

I don’t want to get too emotional here, but I believe that a character like Sonic should continue to propagate and stay culturally relevant because I think kids nowadays really deserve a character like that in their lives. How he is characterized and used in the narrative in Sonic media really matters. There are Tailses in the world who need to learn how to be confident. There are Blazes in the world who need to learn how to accept help. There are Elises in the world who need to learn to let go of the responsibilities that burden them. There are Shahras in the world who struggle from having been in abusive relationships. And there are Merlinas in the world who are afraid of death. These people would benefit from a positive figure to guide them out of dark places.

My feelings about Sonic are far from an anomaly. See an excerpt from this artwork by sludgetoons, in response to this video essay:

"This one fucking video finally has made me realize WHAT Sonic is to me. he's my hero he's my inspiration hell hes a role model yes but none of those terms ever felt right to place onto this character that is so beautifully painted to be this characters free from the shackles of humanity and a need to be "relatable". He's not a hero or a role model, hes a DIRECTION. Sonic himself is an impossible goal to reach as a person, but just trying to live my life in a way that is free, appreciating the world that is around me, exploring and climbing and running and rebelling, lending a hand where I can but understanding ultimately im free to do as I please and I owe no one anything as they owe me nothing. as long as i am FOLLOWING him in those big footprints those red sneakers leave I am becoming a better version of myself. The goal is not to become Sonic, that's impossible. But by ignoring that impossibility and pushing on anyways I still WONT become Sonic. but I'll inadvertently become this better version of myself.

There's no way I can explain it properly how much this character means to me. When I picked up the pencil to draw for the first time it was because I thought he looked cool and inspired me and I wanted to replicate that magic. When I was feeling trapped in my past relationship and thought I had no say in what was happening to me his voice was in my head telling me this wasn't right and that "I could do anything". Start of 2024 I found myself asking "what would sonic do" more often than ever and 2024 was the best year of my entire fucking life. I couldn't give a fuck if it makes me seem insane he made who who I am and I love myself and I hope someday somehow, in another time or space, I can meet him just to say thank you."

This is just someone spilling their heart out on the internet about how much they love Sonic. It has over 9,000 likes at the time of this post.

I do not like different interpretations of Sonic.

None of them inspire power in others quite like this.

#oh my god i wrote another essay #ask #long post

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tizeline · 6 hours ago

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Hi, love your Au and your art!

Since the Drax boys have lived in the Hidden City their whole lives, they have a much better sense of community than the Donnie. Even if they aren't the most well liked since I assume most yokai find their views on human's extreme. They can still go down to a supermarket, a restaurant, a park. All things in which Donnie has never been able to do out in daylight. How would they react onto figuring out. "Oh, crap this kid is a socially isolated weirdo [affectionate]." Like would they do a montage of dragging Donnie to all their favorite places? Also, I imagine that yokai culture has different faux pas, any Donnie might just accidentally do something offensive, like how he did in Witch town by not collecting the worms right. Or he might accidentally do something incredibly dangerous like go to a place with gangs or go to Big Mama's and he'd have no idea because Donnie's not a resident of the Hidden City. Also, do you think Yokai celebrate Christmas or New Years? I imagine it would be very weird for Donnie to see people that look like you and be under the same category of 'freak' (in the human city) just walking around doing everyday things. Especially since Donnie's spent his whole life hiding, walking around and not worrying about if some human scientist is going to nab you must be world-endingly weird. Also, it would probably give Donnie hope for things he's never been able to do before. Make a proper friend group, own a home in a neighborhood, and go to college. All the regular teen things he see's people in the movies and April doing.

Also, something I've always wondered in canon, do you think Donnie has his shots? Since he can't access a regular doctor, do you think he's just like a carrier of every single dead disease. I assume he's probably immune to a lot of sicknesses because of how Draxum made them. But imagine Draxums reaction when he wants to get Donnie's medical records (I imagine Draxum is a stickler for health, shots, and Doctor checkups as a form of affection) and Donnie has to tell him he's literally never been to an actual Doctor. I imagine at some point he made records for himself, but that was probably when he got a bit older, so for the first seven years or so, Splinter was just hoping Donnie didn't come down with anything deadly.

I'm also betting that the Drax boys are a bit smarter than canon because Draxum seems like the type of person to do ZERO skimping on education. Like yes, Donnie's still smarter, however I do think they Drax boys are just smarter than canon, like they probably know high school algebra, science, yokai history all that stuff. I think it would be cool to see the boys reference a piece of yokai culture of history and Donnie just be like ".....what". I imagine it make him very mad to be out of the loop in any piece of knowledge. However, Donnie could make a human pop culture reference and also get the Drax boys confused.

LMAO yeah it's quite weird for Donnie to be able to just. Walk around in public without having to worry about anyone finding out that he's a mutant. It takes him a while to adjust to the fact that he doesn't have to hide his turtle-features amongst yōkai, he probably instictually keeps doing it for a while at first (keeping to the shadows and wearing clothes that hides his appearence, stuff like that).

His brothers are quite eager to introduce Donnie to all the cool stuff in The Hidden City that he's been missing out on. And while part of Donnie's difficulty with social interactions is just a symptom of him being autistic, him growing up so isolated definitely made things even harder for him. A lot of his knowledge about social etiquette he learned from like........ shows and movies, and I don't think 80s martial arts- and campy sci-fi-movies are the best teachers on how to interact with others lol. He had April of course, but she's one person and also kind of a weirdo too. And all of that just may have given him insight on how to socialize in human society, he's very unprepared for yōkai society!

His brothers really don't mind this, partially because Donnie's behavior is so similar to Draxum so they honestly just find it endearing. They also fully expected Donnie to have been completely traumatized from living amongst humans. The fact that he's (mostly) fine, just a bit eccentric, is great news to them! Also a lot of yōkai consider the entire Draxum family to be a bunch of weirdos too, maybe Donnie doesn't really fit in amongst other yōkai as much as he'd liked but he DOES fit in amongst his family, both the Hamatos and the Draxums! :]

Also LMAOOO- Splinter: "This is my son Donatello, he has every disease"

Honestly..... yeah Donnie kinda mostly relied on his mutation-enhanced immune system growing up. Donnie, being a NERD, might have figured out how to get himself vaccinated for at least some stuff eventually. I also imagine with Splinter knowing he himself is the closest thing to a medic he or Donnie were ever gonna get access to, he put in effort into research and other precautions to be safe. That being said, he's not an expert, and while I do believe the Hamato Ninja Training included some basic medical training like first aid and such, there's the small problem of both Splinter and Donnie both having EXTREMELY weird biology on account of the mutation, so Splinter kinda just had to guess a lot and hope for the best when it came to Donnie's health

Regardless, I absolutely belive that as soon as Donnie's relationship with Draxum became slightly less hostile, Draxum managed to convince Donnie to sit down for a checkup. And OMG Draxum being so concerned about his kids' health as a form of affection is both adorable and hilarious 😭

And yup the Drax Bros got a much better education in the AU compared to canon lmaooo (Leo still doesn't like reading books though). Donnie is still definitely the most academically gifted, but yeah his brothers of course are going to know a lot more about yōkai stuff in general, which kinda makes Donnie a little bit insecure. Specifially when Raph, Mikey and Leo start talking about something yōkai-related that Donnie is completely ignorant of, then that makes him feel a bit left out. Of course, then he, April will talk about something human-related and then his brothers are the ones out of the loop (aside from maybe Leo he knows quite a bit about human pop-culture)

#tiz sep au #tizel talk #tmnt #rottmnt

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william-t-sickofyourshit · 9 hours ago

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William knew that Sebastian was scared of this. In all honesty - he was good. He knew that cancer treatment was invasive, but at the same time there was no way around it. So he was not surprised when doctor Chalman presented them with the options, and Sebastian immediately got defensive, asking if there was any other way.

William felt his heart twist, and there was a nervous knot in his stomach. He took Sebastian’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, as Sebastian fumbled with his fingers anxiously.

Doctor Chalman was understanding too. She nodded softly, and calmly explained everything to them. “You’re cancer-free now, yes, it means there are no active cancer cells in your body at the moment. But, we still have the cancer-markers proteins. Think of it like this - the cancer is a parasite, and the marker proteins are its eggs. We killed the parasite for now, but we also need to remove the eggs, to make sure no new parasites hatch.” she said. It was a bit of a creepy way of explaining things, but definitely descriptive, and helped both of them understand how this all worked.

“Unfortunately there is no way around it, Mr Michaelis.” doctor Chalman sighed. “You need to decide on one of the two forms of treatment I mentioned - either radiation or chemo. Otherwise, you will just be walking around like a ticking time-bomb.” she explained. She was patient and sympathetic, but also firm and professional.

“Take some time to think about it.” she eventually looked at both William and Sebastian. “I will give you some materials to read at home, so you can learn more about the treatments, side-effects, prognosis, and all that. To make an educated decision.”

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes.

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times.

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?”

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them.

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

#for i have sinned

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bekkathyst · 2 days ago

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I'm gonna say this and I'm gonna mean it in all sincerity from a longtime follower: I'm really glad you're so open with how things have been since you moved to Austria. On one hand, I do feel like I'm not only supporting a business I have for ages and feel good about that and I'm also supporting folks I care about online into being able to have a good life. And on the other I'm glad, because if you didn't mention the bad stuff I would probably 100% believe you guys moved into the middle of Europe and immediately escaped all the evils of capitalism and integrated into a gorgeous place with lots of history and folklore and ability to forage (!!!!!!!) and I would be so jealous I would possibly die. So either way I'm happy to keep buying your crystals, and also while I am very jealous but I probably won't die of it. Please give your daughter a hug from me, and your husband a high five. :D

Ah 😭 this is really sweet and I’m going to try not to ramble too long but I feel like this is a good thing to discuss, especially right now.

The first couple months of moving here were an insane contrast of like the happiest I’ve ever been in my life and the most stressed out knowing that one wrong move meant we’d have to give it all up and move somewhere else or lose the ability to be together. The immigration process I’ve had to go through to be with my husband anywhere is difficult but it was harder here than what we dealt with in the US only because this is the place we REALLY wanted to be and it was terrifying thinking the chance to be here could just be ripped away. But of course at the same time I was seeing family I hadn’t seen in a decade or longer, I was getting to really connect with my ancestors, be immersed in the culture, forage in the way I’d been longing to do for my entire life, and all the rest. I feel like because of this I just blinked and now somehow it’s been two years.

The nature here is my favorite, and I honestly wouldn’t trade it for anything. But Austria is far from perfect. There’s racism, xenophobia, the bureaucracy has made me question my sanity, some of the social culture really sucks, my business is deeply struggling and I wonder if we can make it due to how high fees and other taxes are, and I will ALWAYS have criticisms for any government I live under lol. Living somewhere very different from where I spent most of my life is really isolating and I feel lonely a lot. And I’m sure however I feel, it’s even harder for Antonio.

But like I said in my post, in the end, this is worth it for us. It’s so hard BUT we get to watch our daughter grow up somewhere where she can have healthcare and a good education and swim in lakes and hike mountains and make so many friends!! Omg she has so many friends. 🥹 and I now have healthcare too for the first time in my life which is really just in time for me to get diagnosed with a bunch of chronic illnesses that I’d never be able to get any help for in the US. And now my husband also has the chance for the first time in his life to pretty much travel anywhere he wants to which is amazing for him.

It must be quite obvious that these are all feelings I’ve been holding in for some time lol. But I can’t believe what lovely human beings follow me on here and support us especially after so long! It’s been almost 12 years since I started all of this and somehow I’m still doing it. Wow. Incredible.

I love you 😭❤��

And here’s evidence of the passed on high five 😆

#ask

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thevixenwitch · 4 hours ago

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Metaphysical Shop Red Flags:

Little bit of a disclaimer on this one: This post is made from my personal experience. If you have a small business, this post is not about you, but hey if some of these things stand out to you, maybe it's worth analyzing your business model.

I am someone that's been active in irl and online pagan and witch spaces for over a decade now, and am compiling this from my own experiences, as well as those of my partners. I'm also a tad anti-capitalist, so an alternative title for this post could be "How to Spot if You're Actually that Metaphysical Shop's Cash Cow".

Now, let's get started.

Unknown or unethically sourced White Sage is a really noticeable starting place. Once I was at a market and saw cute smoke cleansing bundles with dried flowers and cinnamon sticks and quartz points, very pretty, very flashy! But when I asked where the Sage was sourced, the lady manning the booth said they were from Amazon. Some sellers value visual appeal to make a sale over anything else.

Overt appropriation via bulk, drop shipped items like “smudging” tools, dream catchers, etc. This list of items can vary dramatically based on who owns the shop, what practices exist in your area, so it’s good to educate yourself on how to spot appropriation. This does NOT mean ethically sourced options that benefit marginalized communities, that’s what we want to insist our local shops have for us to buy!

On that note, a lack of local creators and/or sourcing in general. Not every store has a goal of being a community hub, but beyond that they are still very visible aspects of the community. It strikes me as very odd that I can more reliably buy locally sourced herbs from a random gift shop than I can from a metaphysical store no matter which state I’m in.

Crystals with no information about where they were sourced. There is a growing issue with the intense demand for crystals that has caused an increase in unethical sources, so knowing where your purchases come from is important. Compare prices at metaphysical shops to those at your local rock shop, especially if you are lucky enough to have one run by gemologist, geologist, or rockhound. I have talked about this already elsewhere, so I won’t bog down this post too much with it. The short of it is, transparency is a green flag.

This one may be controversial, but dramatic markups in general. Don’t be afraid to compare prices to other places, particularly other local options if they are available. A few dollars variance is normal, but a huge markup should be obvious. Things like location can have a huge impact on price, which is good to keep in mind. The availability and price of something can vary wildly based on that factor alone, but that’s why I recommend checking against other options within your area. Do remember that comparing to Amazon prices isn’t fair to small businesses, and “cheap” is not the goal here.

If the contents of the store are all drop-shipped, or bulk stock that can definitely be something to keep an eye out for. If the place is full of items you can actually look up on Amazon, that may be worth paying attention to.

Prevalence of well-known problematic authors. If they have Silver Ravenwolf on a central display, that’s always something that tells me a shop prioritizes making a sale over providing quality products. If there’s an overwhelming presence of Lewellyn published books with minimal alternatives, that shows a lack of care for diversity or quality control.

AI items. Let’s be so for real here. Walking into a shop and seeing an obviously AI generated altar cloth with gibberish symbols all over it is a bad thing. I’ll talk more on the rising presence of AI that’s very negatively influencing the quality of information available in the pagan community at a later time.

Bulk resin and 3D printed items. We’ve all seen them, the vendor at a fair with an army of dozens of jointed dragons, or ten resin-cast, glitter-filled Gaia statues that light up! All so sparkly, colorful, and eye-catching. I’d implore anyone to learn more about how much plastic waste is involved in bulk production of low-quality products like this.

What my wife likes to call “Apple Store vibes”. Call me traditional, but when a store is all sleek white lines and tidy, understocked shelves, I know I’m in for some of the highest prices for incense I’ve ever seen. These stores are meant to bring in people with money burning a hole in their pocket, and that’s often reflected in the visually appealing kitsch that never actually seems to serve a purpose.

This can be a red flag SOMETIMES but not always: A lack of diversity in the paths represented. Sometimes a shop is just a reflection of the owner’s personal practice, or the focuses of the local community. Other times, there can be a reflected air of superiority of one path over others. This is entirely dependent on the individual store.

A big one I’d like to end on; they only host paid classes and services with no way for under-served members of the community to attend or participate. This is made even worse if the events are all over $20. Especially if this store is the only option in your area for these things! Instead of providing a service, they could be focused on cornering the market.

A quick Green Flag for some positivity, the presence of the owners or staff’s personal practice! I love being able to ask for insight from the source, I love being able to buy someone’s personal oil blends, I love learning more about things I may not have thought about because I’m not walking that path myself. Staff that want to chat and help can be so nice and really add to a welcoming environment.

Supporting small businesses is so important, and they can really be cornerstones of our community, but we need to be able to see the difference between someone passionate about providing resources and space to a community, and others that are looking to make a quick buck off of people starving for that. We as consumers need to hold our communities to some kind of standard, and I for one find that my standard is a certain level of authenticity. Not everyone selling metaphysical tools and supplies is trying to scam someone, but there are bad actors everywhere. Educate yourself, keep your eyes open, and don’t be afraid to ask yourself what someone’s motivations are.

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turndecassette2 · 2 days ago

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Hi! I really love your work and way of making comics. I know this isn’t something universal, but since I’m about to graduate with a design and illustration degree, I wanted to ask if you have some advice on how to get started as a ✨professional ✨comic artist and illustrator. Aka one with clients and paid projects :,)) I’m kind of second guessing my education as I wrap it up because I won’t really be able to just work at a design agency because of my focus on illustration and so on. . Thanks! Have a nice day 🎀

god I'm the wrong person to ask. PEOW approached me about making a comic, I did, I dropped out of college, didn't make all that much money, I lived as a weird hermit with/near my parents between 2016 – end of covid, did odd jobs for people who'd seen my book and liked it. didn't start making proper money off of this until the frog book happened, which in large part was down to luck & the frogs blowing up on IG. if you want to be normal & serious abt this stuff you should find a person with a real portfolio and check with them. I think for editorial illustration etc there are agents & agencies that deal with that? in which case, check with someone that has one of those, or check with them directly.

(don't mean to sound too confrontational. I'm genuinely just not good at self-promotion or job-seeking)

edit: for comics specifically: I think doing shorter things & getting them out there and seen kinda helps? won't make much money at first but doing a small zine is a smaller investment of time & if it 'flops' it's a smaller loss vs say having spent two years on a GN that you can't find a publisher for. so maybe 'smaller project for a smaller pub' would be the actionable advice for comics specifically. 50 – 80 pages can still be 'a book', if they look nice &/or tell a decent story.

#an ask #sorry not much help

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 days ago

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@zepskies

Hello my beautiful friend! I am SO ready to dive back into this series!

Right off the bat, the sexual tension with the gambling 👌🏻. I don't know what it is, but I always love in movies or shows or books when they have a poker game/card game between two people who are obviously into each other. I don't think it's a trope, but- the sexy smiles over the cards, the bluffing, the flirting, the teasing, just OH GOODNESS 😮‍💨

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too? You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

I'm not going to lie, I would have thought this to myself if I was in her situation. At the same time I feel bad for her because she has all this bottled inside and it's probably even worse that she's in close counters with him, just second guessing everything. BUT I also love that you've given us these wonderful domestic moments between the two of them. ❤️

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says. Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

DANG IT DEAN STOP HIDING FROM YOUR FEELINGS! Man really out there chopping wood trying to forget all his problems and relieve some tension 👀, while the reader is inside trying to educate herself🤣

The way you integrated John's journal into this chapter was so good! It adds on to the lore of the story. I'd never read through the official "John's Journal" merch so it was nice to see those little details and honestly made me feel more connected to the reader, because it was the first time that I was reading the entries too!

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

Girl it's okay we can cry together- DEAN WAS IN THE CRIB WITH SAM. Nothing is okay. I am made of tears. INCONSOLABLE 😭

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—” “Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating. “The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.”

No, NO, No. Dean NO.

Bad Dean!

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin.

AND he knows that she is supposed to be HIS. For the love of rice krispy treats! SHE HAS A BROKEN ANKLE DEAN. Don't let her leave!!!

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate? You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Sweetie he's a grumpy old onion, you gotta peel him back one gorgeous layer at a time. 🤣

This bit is also so heartbreaking, because it's literally her meeting her mate and her believing that he doesn't want her, when it's probably all he does. There's something so raw about that. The idea of finding someone who was literally made for you and believing that they want no part of you. Oh goodness my fragile heart😭

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

I'm not going to lie, I wasn't expecting it to be a Bear. I literally thought this was going to turn into Dean saving her from a Wendigo- because of the allusions to her dad being killed by one, but this was such a (un)pleasant surprise LOL

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester: For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach. Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

I LOVE this insight into his head, just a little piece but enough for the readers to see that Dean does in fact care and that he does feel something for her! Not to mention again... HE PICKS HER UP. I've read Dean in so many fics doing that but each time it just makes me *swoon*.

And oh my word, him finally sitting down with her on the couch and allowing himself to let down some of his walls and let the reader in is just so good!! Not to mention now the reader is going to tell him the truth over how she lost her dad! I'm very excited to read the next chapter, but this one was amazing Alex! 🤗

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart.

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.”

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.”

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin.

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear?

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life.

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you.

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest.

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you.

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore.

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze.

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says.

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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locketlace · 22 hours ago

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little Nalu soulmate blurb I wrote and didn’t bother to check over

———

Lucy is ten when the mark appears, years after her mother’s passing.

It’s a small pink flame, surrounded by stars, resting just above where she thinks her heart is.

Lucy’s father is disappointed at the sight, and immediately ushers her out to report to his business partners that she does not share any of their children’s soul marks.

He may be disappointed, but it’s the first sign she’s ever gotten that there’s someone out there for her, after years of rotting away behind the locked doors of her mansion.

Lucy dives into every book in her family’s library on soulmates, from educational non-fiction to fantasy romances.

Soulmates, Lucy decides, are the greatest thing this world has to offer.

From then on, Lucy spends most of her time daydreaming about who her soulmate could be.

A brave knight, who comes to sweep her off her feet to steal her away from her father? Or a stunning princess, who grabs her hand and pulls Lucy into a beautiful fantasy land?

Whoever they are, Lucy knows they will save her. They have to.

For the rest of her childhood—and far into her teenage years—Lucy daydreams about her mysterious soulmate.

During fancy parties where Lucy is forced to stand at her father’s side while he talks nonsense to other powerful men, she dreams of her Knight breaking through the doors and pulling her away. She dreams of her Princess grabbing her hand and pulling Lucy into a dance that makes her forget all her worries.

But no knight or princess ever comes, and suddenly it’s too late.

Lucy is seventeen with her mother’s keys and dreams of being a wizard, when she overhears her father arranging her marriage to a man she’s never even met.

Lucy can’t wait any longer, she has to get out now.

So she leaves, running away into the night with nothing but a handful of cash and a few pairs of clothes—and her mother’s keys, of course.

Then, Lucy meets him.

A pink-haired weirdo, who drains half her savings and is apparently looking for a dragon with his talking cat.

Lucy doesn’t know exactly what to make of such a man, so she brushes the meeting off and follows the wizard Salamander onto his boat, hoping to leech off of him long enough to join Fairy Tail.

And then the man—Natsu—from earlier is falling onto the boat, with his cat who can apparently talk and fly.

Lucy is less than impressed when he immediately eats wood, and she has to pull out Aquarius to save both of their butts, wrecking half of Hargeon’s port in the process.

By the end of it, Lucy is tired, wet, and broke. Not only that, but Salamander is still, somehow, fighting.

Lucy is ready to scream, but Natsu is tearing his coat off, revealing his arms.

More importantly, revealing what is on his arms.

On one shoulder, the mark of Fairy Tail is proudly displayed, a blazing red color.

On the other, sits her soulmark. A pink flame surrounded by shining stars.

Natsu Dragneel is Salamander, a wizard of Fairy Tail, and her one and only soulmate.

She nearly passes out at the revelation, and then nearly passes out again when Natsu, somehow, eats fire.

His weird cat kindly informs her he’s the son of a dragon, like he wasn’t already impossible enough.

Then, the fake Salamander is out cold on the ground, and the royal military is chasing after them for drowning the port—hey, it’s a port, what did they expect—Natsu is grabbing her hand.

Her soulmate is grabbing her hand, dragging her back to his guild.

Natsu is far from what she expected, but, she thinks with a smile on her face, he might not be so bad.

#nalu #pro nalu #lucy heartfilia #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #fairy tail fanfiction #soulmate au

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eemamminy-art · 1 day ago

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I was talking with some friends about it just now and I wanted to share my headcanons for the bachelor/ettes ages in stardew valley! These are just my own personal interpretations of them and of course you can disagree if you feel differently, but I wanted to share anyway! I actually put a lot of thought into picking them and have reasons for each of them being the ages they are, which I summarized a little bit below :3

Alex - 20 He seems like he's still in this mindset of someone who just graduated high school and is about to move on to bigger things, but he's spinning his wheels talking about all the things he's gonna do and never taking meaningful steps toward achieving those things (until meeting the farmer, that is)

Elliott - 32 He seems like someone who maybe had a privileged background and lots of opportunities, spent a few years in a career and just realized he yearned for something more romantic and wistful out of life. He has these lines that seem kind of out of touch and idealistic, which makes me think he hasn't had to struggle too much in life but wants to experience that in order to live out his dreams as a writer (thus, living in the conditions he does and trying to live a very simple life in the valley)

Harvey - 35 He has to skew older just due to him being a doctor with his own clinic, but Harvey seems like someone who doesn't have too much practical experience in life and relationships, and also isn't really good at taking care of himself. So mid-30's fits perfect: still at that stage where he hasn't quite found himself or had a lot of experiences but has a very extensive education and on the surface seems very put-together.

Shane - 30 There's all sorts of reasons why Shane went off the rails (general listlessness in life, Jas' parents passing away, maybe unfulfilled dreams?) but I picked 30 for him as like, he had been struggling with all those aforementioned things and then hitting that milestone birthday kind of was a wakeup call that compounded his mental health struggles. I think he could even be older than that, honestly, but I like the idea of him still being somewhat young but just hitting that sort of "now what?" feeling in his late 20's and never pulling out of it.

Sebastian - 28 To me, Sebastian is similar to Shane in the sense of not having a direction in life and just getting by with the bare minimum while being unhappy overall. He has less life experience than Shane seems to so I put him in his 20's, but I like to think of him as someone going through a quarter life crisis who is maybe a bit more immature than people his own age but has no idea how to course correct and opts to just sleep his problems away as a means of coping with his depression.

Sam - 25 I like to lean into Sam's relationship with his little brother and the role he plays as the man of the house while his father is overseas, so I see him as someone who has ambitions in life but he is very caring and sentimental toward his family so he has been stalling his own life in order to care for Vincent, since he feels like he's the only one who can.

~~~

Maru - 21 Given the way her dad talks about her "bright future" I imagine her being in college still. I liked the idea of her and Sebastian having a decently large age gap too, to better highlight how dysfunctional their relationship is and how she looks up to him while he is unable to connect with her in any positive way. On that note, I think her being so much younger and finding more success than Sebastian also could contribute to their sibling issues.

Penny - 23 I think with Penny I put the least thought into with picking her age-- she's someone who is relatively naive and inexperienced in the world but she has an air of maturity to her as a result of her parentification. She could easily skew older or younger than this, but putting her at this age just felt right!

Leah - 26 I see Leah as being someone who is well into adulthood but still quite young, but old enough to have experience living on her own in a way that makes her so self-sufficient as she is. I can imagine her leaving home at a young age and really struggling to make ends meet for several years while creating her art. Also her creeping toward 30 could be a reason for her ex to become so pushy about her settling down to have kids and a stable, boring life, as that's the expectation for a lot of women as they get older (or at least, after 30+).

Emily - 29 She just has big sister vibes to me. I wanted her to be older than a lot of the other characters who are from Pelican Town, as this idea that like, she's always been looking out for them like they're her siblings. :3 Plus she just has wine aunt energy, I wanted her to be older than the rest.

Abigail - 23 I think I make her older than a lot of people do, though I still keep her quite young at 23. She's in college still so I wanted her to be around that age, but maybe just going through it slower than her peers. The kind of person that had to retake classes because she didn't plan out her studying or homework appropriately, or she got overwhelmed and dropped classes, or she took a semester or two off, you know! That sort of thing!

Haley - 19 Out of all of these characters, Haley seems the most immature to me so I wanted her to be very close to high school age. She has these desires to shop and to travel and to just enjoy herself, she's not really thinking about the future because she is so young she doesn't really have to. She doesn't really think much about other people initially either, because she has this worldview that doesn't extend much farther beyond herself.

#headcanons #stardew valley #sdv #sdv alex #sdv elliott #sdv harvey #sdv shane #sdv sebastian #sdv sam #sdv maru #sdv penny #sdv emily #sdv abigail #sdv haley #sdv leah

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marzipanlvr · 2 days ago

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i have a toxic trait i literally check every 30 min to see if the writers that i follow on tumblr have updated anything and if they do i eat it up every time.. IT'S GETTING OBSESSIVE YALL DONT EVEN..SECOND TOXIC TRAIT...now this one is ACTUALLY toxic..i spam as anon. IM SO SORRY i spam as different types of people but it's actually me because i have a lot of ideas and they have a lot of potential but im scared to say "hey everything is from me!" so i change my typings and wordings and act as different type of anons... call me phantom but pLEASE DONT HATE ON ME A GIRL IS DESPERATE PLEASE IM SORRY im not weird i swear..

btw here's a list of good writers i recommend bcoz im a team player and i will NOT gatekeep and hopefully if u read these writers u can be inspired to put urself out there hehe becoz the same thing happened to me!! i love people's minds YALL ARE TOO CREATIVE 3EWYDUSDHSB

@taelophone - absolute SWEETHEART, tae was my FIRST LUIGI FANFIC WRITER ON TUMBLR THAT I ACTUALLY LOVED AND THOUGHT ABOUT. OMG SO YES MAYBE I AM BIASED AND IF TAE ACCIDENTALLY ALLEGEDLY SETS A HOSPITAL ON FIRE THEN I WILL STAY BY HER SIDE AT ALL TIMES AND TAKE THE BLAME MYSELF AND GET THE DEATH PENALTY WITHOUT QUALMS !!, but in all seriousness tae's writing and how every word is completely tailored to humanize luigi is amazing. the way that i literally get sucked in a time warp whenever tae tries to put luigi's character into perspective. by the way, there was this one anon that typed a rlly long paragraph about how fanfiction is a great way to show light unto all the morals and lessons that luigi is trying to teach us and tae was so sweet about it. literally produced one of most educated response ive ever seen and even encouraged anon to keep sharing??!! like what. PLEASE. id die for tae ID LIVE FOR TAE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ID GIVE U MY LEFT LUNG RIGHT KIDNEY WTV U NEED

@mrsmangi - MRSMANGI IS THE REASON I STILL BREATHE OKAY. mrsmangi is the deny to my defend to my DEPOSE YALL DONT EVEN GET IT. did yall see the pinned post it's literally a link to signing the petition for luigi btw here's the link u guys should check it out

mrs mangi does a GREAT JOB on again, humanizing luigi!! i repeat the word humanizing so much because good writers don't worry about being agreed or disagreed with, good writers worry for the need to HAUNT. i mean this because a good piece of art or literature must impact you in ALL aspects of your life to the point that you think about it even in the little things and mrs mangi does ALL THATT not to mention the fact that the community in the blog is oh so sacred because of mrs mangi's direct hospitality and open-mindedness !! literally using an already existing platform to raise awareness and shed light. and the most popular fics Past Life and Found are just amazing pieces of art im so glad i clicked on it no bcoz WTF.?? WHAT INSTANCE MADE U THINK OF THESE MASTERPIECES? that's insane. you're insane. you're mind makes me go kaboom. I LOVE YOU

@mangionebabymama yall THIS BLOG is literally HEAVEN SENT. 1) the anons are soooo creative 2) mangionebabymama literally matches the anon's freak and ALWAYS GIVES BACK WHAT IS RECEIVED. now that is a TRUE diva. 3) yall seen the recent post? literally saying THANK YOU for being apart of this community ??? excuse me?? no maam THANK YOU for being apart of this community. mangionebabymama is INCREDIBLE. and PHENOMENAL. i would pay real money and give up a piece of my brain to know what's going on in mangionebabymama's head. STOP IT. IM SO OBSESSED WITH THIS SPECIFIC BLOG. MANGIONEBABYMAMA WAS A COMPLETE GAME CHANGER. there is so much CREATIVITY that bleeds out and so much love!! it's a safe haven for all us heathens and sisterwives to be ourselves, most importantly mangionebabymama really moves and inspires people on the DAILYY the writing is top tier, the headcannons or random thoughts are SERVINGGG YALLLL MANGIONEBABYMAMA PLEASE ADOPT ME. mangionebabymama was a late find of mine but oh so precious oh my goooooooodnesssssss !! im so lucky to even be apart of this community and discover the random thoughts or words that mangionebabymama wants to say. i want to say thank you and give a MASSIVE hug but i know that thank yous and massive hugs will never EVER EVER be able to justify how much freedom i feel when i go through that blog. I CANT. if i die soon then the cause of death will be "died thinking of mangionebabymama's sheer greatness." THANK YOUS CANT SURPASS WHAT I WANT TO SAY SO I HAVE TO SETTLE WITH I LOVE YOU. shshwduyshjbsjdk

that's it. :) anw love luigi breathe luigi free luigi!!

#sisterwives #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione #free my man #free luigi #deny defend depose #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione x yn #i love writers

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aofelis · 3 hours ago

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When i was 14, i was sexually assaulted on a train with a stranger, a middle-aged man. I froze. This is a common response but I could not raise an alarm because i panicked, but it was a busy enough train that someone would've seen it. It wasn't a packed train but most of the seats were full and to my memory it seemed everyone was grown up and older than me. I told a few friends. And sure i don't blame them for their response (they were also early teens after all), and i appreciate my peers keeping my confidentiality but if they weren't going to tell a trustworthy adult on my behalf, i wish that they also didn't victim blame. I think shame is such reason that it's so damaging, and I was already ashamed of myself for not being able to fight or do the flight thing (i didn't know at the time that freeze and fawn were also common responses to scary situations and I'm definitely prone to those more) and my friends questioning me about why i didn't and telling me very confidently that they would've in my position was more damaging to me, i think, than the actual incident itself. Because sexual violence is often not about the icky-ness of sex itself. Well it is, and sometimes it's the failure to educate about consent etc and the lack of sex ed etc, but often it's because the perpetrator uses the ick and shame that sex carries in society to subdue and psychologically damage their victim. It's also due to being raised as an Asian girl, that i think I was particularly socialised to not fight back but also take the blame for anything that did happen to me.

Later on, i went through a lot of soul searching, a lot of self education on sex, and generally became pretty sex positive and felt well equipped about the topic. Sex was basically my audhd special interest for a while lol not just the practice of, but thinking about it philosophically, learning the biology, history, sociology, psychology etc.

And that definitely helped me when i was subjected to various forms of sexual violence, to which, as fem presenting people, we are often susceptible. I had the confidence and paradigm shift that enabled me to fight back.

Then I was in an abusive situation at work. It was a toxic workplace in general (think the worst finance bro/good old boys #metoo culture stereotypes and you probably have a pretty accurate picture) but it was still seen as a prestigious job and i was also in a situation i couldn't leave. But someone that i thought was a tight friend, to the point I was comfortable enough to chat about sex and our lives outside of work (including our significant others), was the abuser. I was overworked, undervalued by the company and sleep deprived most of the time, once again, as many women are in a competitive workplace like that. He assaulted me. More than once. And started sexually harassing me on an increasingly relentless scale too. I brushed it off at first (i just really didn't have the bandwidth to deal with it) but then stopped being friendly with him, and then when it wasn't working, i fought back. But that didn't stop it. It started causing performance issues at work so i finally reported it. But they did nothing aside from try to gaslight me, first into thinking it wasn't a big deal (even though there was even an incident where i was genuinely scared for my life), and in fact when he found a new job, they offered him a raise to try to convince him to stay.

Even after i did finally get out and healed enough from the burnout of the job, the damage of his actions and the response i got when trying to seek help still persist today. And in physically measurable ways too. I've developed health conditions from the experience, not to mention that i was at risk from STDs and pregnancy.

I've not really experienced physical violence/torture to the same degree, but also i wasn't put at risk of it as much by my upbringing. My mother was in an abusive relationship which included physical violence to her second husband while i was a teenager, but even then, i remember how bizarre it was that I received so much more support for it (even though he was physically violent towards her and not towards me) than the train incident.

But what i understand is that even with other forms of physically violent torture, it's the psychological aspect of it, the power play that's often the lasting damaging aspect?

im just saying, the idea that sexual violence is in any way More evil than physical violence and thus its okay to sexualize murder but not like cnc or something, is like...definitely derived from the very puritanical idea that sex is a uniquely defiling and grotesque act

#cw sa #tw sa #cw rap3

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lunarharp · 1 year ago

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being attached to that moment qifrey held a baby one time and my ideas for the future :)

#witch hat tag #orufrey #brief small post before i return to Real and Emotional things again...but tbh...this makes me feel real emotions too #i think the manga will end up with a epilogue chapter showcasing little things in the girls' future and orufrey holding hands or kissing...#to like Indicate things. if it doesn't happen beforehand.#But. Who. Knows. also then i suddenly started thinking about them raising a baby for ages today because of how narratively poignant it'd be #for things to end that way after having raised almost-daughters all those years. and how healing it could be for qifrey and etc.#thing i said on twt: girls visit so often that the kid's first words are Professor Olly #“deja vu.. i'm not your professor kid - i'm your father!”#sorry but they are literally a gay couple where one truly is like The Mom and one truly is The Dad. to me #i think a housewifey homemaker type lifestyle would make qifrey happy. be harder now that he's disabled - well that's why he has his man.#i dont normally care about stuff like fankids or whatever..characters becoming parents for real..but like..Come on #This is the couple to think about this with.....they already ARE parents..i want them to be happy for eternity #once all the horrors are over we have to make it there.....children are so precious families are so precious....#i have bad relationship with parents personally and haven't interacted with children in years. And yet i still know that.#the fact that orufrey fight for children to be safe and educated and happy...qif wants to help coustas too..#aaaanyway today was a pretty weird and difficult day so i deserved to think about happy futures for a bit. i hear it's possible #btw i'm most sure about tetia becoming the princess of zozah. i think that will happen. and riche should have the ribbon tassel.

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icewindandboringhorror · 19 days ago

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I've referenced before how I have a big google document to keep track of every media I've ever seen in my entire life (just for reference because I like to track everything possible lol… I am the Data Collector), but recently as I was updating it, I thought of actually evaluating them to find out random percentages (like for example, out of Total Shows Watched, what percentage did I finish vs. stop watching, what percentage did I like or dislike, etc.)...

Evaluating these things is made easier by the fact that I already place everything on each subsection of the list into 6 broad ranking categories, so I don't have to go back and guess to figure out how I feel about them or anything. The categories are: Ranking 5 - overall best* (despite some criticisms of course because I'm too much of an Analyzer to ever find anything Perfect lol) Ranking 4 - more positive than neutral, but not good enough to be 5 Ranking 3 - either the good + bad negate each other, OR it's just not memorable/interesting in any way enough to be ranked higher or lower (this is the Default category ALL things are placed in if no other rank applies) Ranking 2 - maybe a few redeemable elements but largely more negatives than positives Ranking 1 - So bad that it circles around to being fascinating to observe in some way (not necessarily Funny, or Good, but just interesting somehow) Ranking 0 - Bad in a genuinely frustrating or obnoxious manner

*("best" primarily defined here as most interesting, rather than most good in a technical sense, or some other measure. I tend to value more highly whether there's something novel or thoughtful about the worldbuilding, tone, writing, base premise, etc - than about whether it's actually executed perfectly.)

And here's the amount of shows that have so far been placed into each category -

TV shows ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 20 shows ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 28 shows ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 114 shows ~ Rank 2 (mid low) -33 shows ~ Rank 1 (low low but intriguingly so) - 14 shows ~ Rank 0 (iredeemably low) - 2 shows

This would make for a total of 211 TV shows overall. However, there are 57 shows within these list marked as "didn't finish" (typically meaning I quit on the very first or second episode - but log them still to keep a record that I at least had a brief view of them).

So my total of genuinely fully watched shows would be more 154. 211 Total, but a More Accurate Total of 154.

Counting them all and using the Total Number Of The List (211) -- that means roughly 9.5% of all total shows I have ever watched (or at least attempted to watch) have been Mostly Good, 13% have been Moderately Okay, 54% have been either entirely Forgettable or some mix of good + bad that lands them right in the Neutral Middle, 15.6% have been Mostly Bad, 6.6% have been Bad (but in an interesting way), and 0.9% have been Terribly Bad.

Additionally, I didn't even get past the first two episodes of about 27% of the total.

Sooo, discounting ones I didn't finish, my total TV shows ever watched in my life would be about 154 (maybe give or take a few, assuming I might have forgotten some from very long ago).

But instead of entire life, let's just say this is the total for 'About 20 Years' (so, not counting very early childhood when I likely wouldn't remember things I saw/have no detailed recollection of them (like for example, I'm sure at some point when I was like 4yrs old I must have seen an episode of Spongebob or something, but I have zero distinct memories of it, can't quote anything of it, and barely recall the premise - so I don't count it on the list, etc.)).

In that case, 154 divided by 20 would be roughly 7.7 shows a year.

Which is actually surprisingly low considering that I often have stuff on in the background for hours whilst I make sculptures and do costumes and stuff (maybe I should have also marked some distinction between 'things I fully paid attention to' and 'things I kind of half listened to whilst sculpting', but that would further split the categories too much probably lol), but I guess a lot of that is youtube videos or random documentaries, so .. eh.. maybe I get it being lower.

Now, doing the same thing for movies-

Movies ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 4 movies (3.4% of total) ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 12 movies (10.3% of total) ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 91 movies (78.4% of total) ~ Rank 2 (mid low) - 8 movies (6.8% of total) ~ Rank 1 (low but interesting) - 1 movie (0.8% of total) ~ Rank 0 (irredeemably low) - none in this category (0%)

That makes 116 for a Total (Actually Remembered) Movies Watched In Lifetime (Or At Least In 20 Years).

116 divided by 20 is roughly 5 or 6 movies a year (I feel this has probably been skewed though by adding everything since like elementary school onwards, as I remember a lot more movies from child/teen years.. Whereas, the past 3 years I feel like I've barely seen maybe even 5 movies?? lol). I also have "Didn't Finish" marked on 18 of them. Which means I quit halfway through about 15% of the total movies.

So, a for broader summary stuff..

I seem to be less forgiving to movies than tv shows, by far. Which makes sense to me, I guess, because I love elaboration and details, so "short form" things that only last an hour or two are often lost on me a bit. My biggest complaint with movies is indeed usually walking away just wishing there had been more exposition, more scenes where characters are doing nothing, more "mindless bantering" conversations, more Quiet Downtime and Lore Elaboration and so on lol, so... of course most 1-2hr films end up feeling a bit Not Enough To Draw My Interest/Nothingy to me.

If you count 5 and 4 as "like" and rankings 2 to 0 as "dislike", then for TV shows I at least somewhat liked 48 of them, and at least somewhat disliked 47 of them.. So it's almost exactly the same lol. I'm just about equally as likely to find something bad as I am to find something redeeming about it. But overall, the largest chance is that I just won't really care much for it at all and it will be tossed into the 'neutral' pile, forgotten forever. Movies have a bit better of a balance, "liking" 16 of them, and "disliking" only 9 of them. So I'm slightly more likely to enjoy a movie than to find it annoying - though still VASTLY more likely to just not find it anything in particular, possibly not even finishing it.

ANYWAY.. this is vague and literally pointless, but like I said, I just really find information fun. Like my document where I've rated every apple flavor I've ever tried (like 40 of them now?), or reviewed every oreo flavor (32?), or ranking data from my entire 10 years of Trying To Make Friends process (out of 100 people, roughly 8% chance of a moderate compatibility, 3% chance of high), or etc. etc.. I love to have random pointless things to analyze I suppose lol.

I doubt anyone tracks things in their life in this same exact way, but I'd be interested in hearing any at least somewhat similar data !!! (like, how many TV shows you watch a year on average, and what percentage of those you like vs. dislike (if you keep track of that sort of thing), etc.)). I guess it might be easier with movies, since I think some people use those websites where you curate a list of movies you've seen and you can rate them or something, so maybe the numbers are already available on those places. :0

#maybe this is my version of spotify wrapped lol.. Lifetime Media Google Doc Wrapped.. kind of.. except I'm not going over specific titles.#I can't do this with music since I rarely EVER look for new music or add to my Youtube To MP3 folder library as I just don't really #listen to music that often. When I'm working (the majority of when I seek background noise) I need like.. people's talking voices #for some reason. Just instruments and singing are not distracting enough to me to work as background noise because theyre #almost TOO in the background if that makes sense? like if I put music on then I just tune it out and it's virtually no different #than if I were daydreaming stream of consciousness thoughts in an entirely quiet room lol. And I can't really do it with books since #essentially 100% of what I read is non-fiction. usually about some specific subject or academic topic OR stuff like #1800s magazines or cookbooks or historical people's diaries. Which is not really.. the type of thing I would #rank as easily I guess? like 'ooh yeah putting the sociology textbook in my top 5 hee hee right next to the 1920s radio recipes book' lol.#Then for games... I just sadly dont play enough of them. I've been banned from new games as I've told myself I cant play anyting #long form (no rpgs or etc) until I actually finish MY OWN game first - to keep me from wasting time. so on average #I play... 0 new games a year. ToT... I do play the sims sometimes but that's really all (which is not a new game at all since #I've been playing it on and off for years). Thus I guess movies/TV are really the only things that make sense #to collect this sort of information on. I could do youtube videos I guess also but that seems kind of strange like...#giving a rating to every single video I watch in a ranked list lol.. Especially since I would say a good 85% of the time #they are exclusively background noise whilst I'm working on something or cleaning the house or etc. and not things I pay serious attention #to. There are only a few specific topics/types/creators of videos I watch where I'm ACTUALLY sitting in front of a screen paying #direct attention to the content (usually when it's educational or political things). Everything else is too mindless to even rank.#ANYWAY... ever analyzing my little hermit Weird Relationship To Media (in the sense of seemingly not processing or getting the same #things out of it as many other seem to). I think that can contribute sometimes to the whole difficulty socializing and stuff #since our culture is very centered around media consumption generally speaking. People want to talk about The New Movie that came #out or The Big TV Show Of The Year. and for me it's like.. highly likely I just plain have NOT seen it. Or if i have. statistically #I most likely was entirely ambivalent if not slightly negative towards it lol. Which just kind of takes the steam out of a 'fun' 'casual'#conversation and you seem like a bit of a bummer if most of your only feedback is either 'idk what that is' or 'oh yea... i did #see that one.... i didnt like it all that much though... I think it'd be better with elves in it.. and 7 hours longer..'' lol..#Which I am not disliking things in a 'grr i hate it bc its popular'/just to be contrarian way. I actually dislike that mindset/find it #silly (by striving so hard to be counterculture you are thus still defining yourself by the whims of external culture - just in the #opposite direction. but are still just as preoccupied with the mainstream (going against it) as everyone else. etc. lol..)) In my #case I think it IS just having niche hyperspecific tastes.. for example- it peeves me when cell phones are in media bc I dont want to be #reminded at ALL of the real world. so.. cross off anything set in modern times. so on & etc. Judging all things by these weird criteria lol

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