#i’m pretty sure i wrote it not too long after creating this blog

[goldenhypen]

NO SHUT UP I JUST FOUND A SHORT STORY I WROTE FOR AN ASSIGNMENT IN GR 11,,,,, TELL ME WHY I WROTE A FANFIC FOR SCHOOL SJDNDJDKDJEB

[booksandabeer]

Stucky, Fandom Longevity, and "Primacy Bias"

There’s this post that's been floating around the past few days about how the Stucky fandom in its heyday produced fic and art masterpieces like they were all collectively possessed by an unprecedented spirit of creative insanity. It’s a good, fun post and I agree with the person who wrote it. (not rb'ing because I didn't want to hijack their post with something that's only tangentially related).

It was indeed a magical time and the creative output in both quantity and quality in the two-year period following the release of CA:TWS is—with perhaps a few exceptions—unmatched by anything that I’ve seen before and since. However, going through the notes on that post, I noticed something that left me a little irritated and quite frankly sad since it is in congruence with, and to a certain extent the confirmation of something that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.

For one thing, there are so many people in the notes expressing sentiments along the lines of “it was such a wonderful time; I wish I could go back; I miss these fics; I want to read these fics again,” etc., etc., you get it. And it feels a little silly pointing this out, but…you can just do that? Almost all of these fics are still right there, waiting for you to be (re)read. Yes, a lot of people left the fandom after The Great Devastation of 2019, but their stories didn’t just disappear. It's not like there is now a big, black hole where the Steve/Bucky tag used to be on AO3. So, if you miss these fics and you want to revisit them—just do it. Chances are the authors will be delighted that people are still finding and enjoying their stories all these years later. And—since apparently this needs saying, too, judging from the notes on that post: A lot of people seem to be very concerned with losing ‘coolness points’ for openly admitting that they still miss the ship and often feel tempted to dip their toes back into the Stucky pool. I don’t know how to tell you this, but if someone tries to shame you for simply enjoying or missing something, they are an asshole. Not to mention that all this is happening on tumble.com—'coolness' doesn't exactly live here. And that is a good thing, to be clear. Fandom is not about being cool. It’s about being as enthusiastic, as silly, as absolutely fucking unhinged about the things you love as you want to be. So, stop caring what other people think and enjoy yourself.

The other thing is that there seems to be a pretty widespread misconception that the Stucky fandom hasn’t produced any good fanworks after 2016.

First, that is patently and demonstrably untrue. There is so much incredibly good fanfiction and fanart still out there. Not as much as back in the day, sure, but it still exists. And more is being posted every day! Even some of the OG Big Names are still around. One of the most beloved Stucky series that started all the way back in 2014 was updated as recently as December of last year. The artist, who I believe the op is referring to as creating ‘baroque’ paintings, posted their latest Stucky art not even two months ago.

Second, I find this “primacy bias” more than just a little insulting to the many hardworking and incredibly talented people who are still putting their blood, sweat, and tears into creating for this community. And it’s one thing if people who have long left the fandom believe or say something like this, but it’s frankly irritating when I see people who are still very much active—and therefore definitely should know better—feed into that same false myth. Yes, it sucks that the Stucky ship isn’t as big as it used to be, but that doesn't mean there isn't any 'fresh talent' to be found anymore. I’m also not saying we shouldn’t still celebrate and recommend older works—I do it all the time! And it sure as hell doesn't mean everyone has to reblog absolutely everything all the time, either. Your blog, your rules.

But maybe we should put a little more focus on the good things, on the creators and the community we have now, especially if we want that community to still exist in another ten years. I mean, imagine you’re a person who’s just gotten into the fandom (because yes, there are indeed still new people discovering Stucky all the time) and one of the first things you’re being told is “eh, nice that you're here, but you’re about 7 years late; the big party is already over.” Does that seem like a fun space to hang out in to you?

So. Let’s all—and I do not exclude myself from this because God knows, I love to complain—spend a little less time mourning the ‘good old days’ that are never coming back anyway, and instead focus our attention on enjoying and appreciating both the incredible treasure chest of an archive we have AND the wealth of high-quality art and fic that is still being created by this wonderful community every single day. With this in mind:

🥳🎊Happy Stucky Week 2023!!! 🎊🥳

*I want to make it very clear that this is a general thing that’s been on my mind lately and that I’m trying to work through here—probably not very coherently. I'm not trying to tell anybody 'how to do fandom' and I’m most definitely not vagueposting about any particular incident, person, or group in this fandom. This isn’t a callout post. It’s an I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this and I don’t know what else do with them post.

[yandere-valentine]

Maybe we shouldn’t write for Wally as his creator doesn’t feel comfortable about ppl lusting after him.

The poor guy is getting fan doxxed too. He’s just 1 created of the ARG and I’m pretty sure the puppet is his self insert. Not trying to be mean or rude just saying we should respect his boundaries

/genuine /not mad

Thanks for sharing with me this concern, Anon. And you're right.

And I think it's time for me to do something about this. To all my followers, I do hope you understand my decision and my feelings too.

In case you didn't knew - Clown (the creator of Welcome Home) is currently going through horrible things, outside and inside of the internet. They are being put under too many stressful situations with their feelings being constantly invalidated, his requests and boundaries ignored and their integrity being threatened.

As the Anon just mentioned - Clown is getting fan doxxed, people are doing proshipping and nsfw content even after they asked to not to do anything like that to their characters, there are users creating content about the show and planning on selling them even when Clown asked to not do that, there are users that are pretending to be them on other plataforms (like Tiktok, instagram, etc.), and so much more.

And yes - "it is something common in the internet" but Clown is expressing loudly how attacked they are feeling. Maybe not everyone had ill intentions on wanting to hurt Clown or not give a shit about what they are putting as boundaries - but there are so many out there that have SEEN how Clown is getting affected with everything and are not doing anything to change the situation or support them.

His project - the one that they have crafted with their bare hands and loved so dearly - is getting tainted and preyed away from their hands.

So, with that said... I've come with a decision that I hope you understand - I'm going to stop doing Yandere content about Welcome Home, and I'll stop doing yandere content in general.

As much as I love doing Yandere content in general and how much I liked doing said content for Welcome Home - it is not worthy if I am putting my 'grain of sand' to Clown's stress.

Yes, I may not have been doing sexual/nsfw things with Welcome Home, I may not have been creating content about them to later on sell it, I may not be trying to steal Clown's identity on internet or dox them, I may not have been writting really dark stuff (like r@pe or shit like proshippers have been doing lately) - but still. Yandere content, even when it has been all pure fiction and I do not condone it, it's abuse content in the end.

Why? Well - things like kidnapping, harassment, obsessive behavior, threats, and so much more are part of the whole ""yandere asthetic"". And I don't think Clown would feel comfortable if their characters are being written as that - even less Wally.

Yes, I know - Welcome Home is supposed to be a horror project, but there's a difference between the type of horror content Clown wants in the project and the type of horror content we put on it. It is not our project, nor our characters - and if Clown is telling us to not do something, then we must be decent human beings and actually listen and do what they are asking.

And believe me when I tell you I was having so much fun doing this and so happy recieving so many positive reactions on the things I've wrote - hell, I swear I've never been so active as a 'content creator' in a long while! You can see how much work, effort and creativity I've been pouring on this blog and specially on the Welcome Home yandere content!

But nothing of that is wrothy, not if I'm part of the problem - not if I'm hurting Clown some way or another. Because - fuck, I was partially ignoring Clown's boundaries! And it is my decision to stop doing that.

I thank you enough for everyone's support, likes, reblogs and comments - and I'm so sorry, but I'm going to delete every single one of my yandere posts (all of them) - if you have saved one of them, do not repost them anywhere - if you do, then you'll be part of the problem that is putting Clown on the ground (and I'll make sure to report the post so it gets taken down.)

I'm not going to delete the whole blog (only it's content, posts, etc.) - I want this message to stay up and for everyone to read.

Do not take this as a way for me to "pretend I did nothing wrong, that I am free of any mistakes and that I am a pure little white sheep, hidding everything under the rug" - I just don't want to "support" others on keep doing this content - even less for Welcome Home. I no longer feel comfortable on doing yandere content if that means I am hurting somebody or encouraging others on keep doing stuff that is in general no good!

Thanks for everything and for the support, but nothing of this is worthy if I am adding my part to the problem.

Please, support Clown in any way you can.

[tennessoui]

I hope you have fun at the beach! What is your fandom history and how long they have been in fandom?

thank you!!! I’m really looking forward to it it’s been far too long since I put my feet into the ocean and that feeling is one of the simpler joys of life

(I also packed like 5 mystery books. Can’t wait to aspire to read them all and then get distracted with the splash splash sandcastle building chaos)

Fandom history!! Wow well so for Obikin/Star Wars specifically, I watched the prequels Decemberish of 2020 and then started reading fic then before I started writing it in April of 2021! Been here ever since

as for fandom in general, I was reading all sorts of fics on fanfiction dot net in like 2011 and 2012 lol I remember having one of those really really long profile pages that had all the popular quotes and jokes and HTML tricks I had to copy from some how-to because I couldn’t figure it out myself

I’m pretty sure the first fic I ever wrote was for Harry Potter and my second fic was for 39 Clues if people even remember those books?? It was like national treasure for 10 year olds spread out over like 50 books. insane. Both were character studies that I’m sure abused italics and bolded text 100%

after fan fiction dot net days, I lurked in a lot fandoms to read fics but never posted much or wrote fic. Think I created this blog in like 2012 or 2013 and then when I got into Star Wars and started posting fic and got a few comments asking if I had a tumblr I did a quick cleanse of any posts from past fandoms and found a new profile picture of mark hamil in a golden suit 😂

[sunsetshifting]

hello! i have a question, can you explain clones and how they work?

(Answering the oldest asks first! Please forgive any unclear bits, I wrote this right before I took my little break~)

Sure! Sorry this took so long, I was having a break from the blog to deal with some IRL stress <3 yk how it is haha. Regardless, I’m happy to share my thoughts on the topic!

Clones are quite the contentious topic within the shifting community, but I’ll do my best to explain it, anyway~

'Clone' is a non-literal term for the version of oneself that remains after you've shifted.

They are, all things considered, just another version of your consciousness.

But how does something like that even work?

.

As stated earlier, the version of you that remains after you've shifted out of this reality is often referred to as a 'clone', though that's not an entirely genuine name for what they truly are!

Your consciousness is infinite, spread across the equally infinite multiverse of existence. Each version of you, across any reality, has a consciousness just like your own (When shifting, we actually merge with our DR self's consciousness, rather than taking it over/filling out an empty spot! Pretty cool, huh?) As such, when you shift out of this reality, something has to fill in the gap. This is where 'clones' come in!

Clones are, in truth, just other versions of oneself. Given the infinite nature of one's own consciousness, it's not too hard to leave behind another version of it to take care of things in your absence.

(For lack of a better example, think of your consciousness as an infinite water source (the 2x2 sort) in Minecraft. No matter how many buckets you take out (or universes you spread yourself across), there is always more to replenish it.)

.

So now we know what clones are, technically, but what do they do?

Well, they do whatever you would’ve done! Your clone is literally just you. If you would’ve spent all day playing videogames, so would they. If you’d normally be working or doing chores, they aren’t going to flake on them just because you’re not there to witness it.

Sunny, it can’t be that simple- and yet it is.

Clones are one of the woefully over-complicated topics of the shifting community, and something people tend to focus on way too much at the start of their journey (not that I’m discouraging asking questions! Quite the opposite!) They are also one of the topics that tend to get quite a lot of misinformation spread about them, which I’m happy to help clear up^^

As such, I’ve got a little FAQ here to assist!~

.

FAQs

Why are they even called 'clones'? (And is there a better term for them?)

Though I’m not 100% certain on where the term originated, my best guess would be early shifttok (think the Draco shifttok era.) Most likely, someone came up with the term off-handedly, not intending for it to be the official term (or generally not thinking too hard on it), and it simply stuck with the community long-term.

As for there being a better term, it sort of depends on who you ask! Some people just call them other selves, some people don’t give them a name, it’s really up to the individual. Personally, I only refer to them as ‘clones’ within the confines of the script, and when discussing them outside of that context, I refer to them as “other selves” or just “me”.

.

What happens to them when you/I shift back?

Same thing that happens when you shift to your DR! You merge with your ‘clone’/other self. This is why you end up with all the memories that your ‘clone’ had created in your absence (if you were gone long enough for them to go around and do things.)

.

Am I a clone?

If you’ve got the wherewithal to question this, then the answer is probably no. Were the answer to be yes, it still wouldn’t matter, as clones can still shift, and are equally as valid as the other consciousness that they split off of.

.

Can I script changes to my ‘clone’?

Unless you’re manifesting in addition to everything else, then the answer is probably no. That is, unless you plan on shifting to a new “base” reality (aka a new CR), wherein you could reasonably script whatever you liked.

If you plan on returning to your regular CR/OR, though, then the answer is no. If you wouldn’t normally get straight A’s or workout daily, then scripting that your clone will won’t do anything, as they have just as much free will (and motivation to do those things) as you do.

.

Does my 'clone' know that I've shifted?

For some reason, this seems to be an extremely contentious question within the shifting community. To keep things simple, it seems to vary from person to person. Some shifters claim that their clones are aware enough to write down various things about their shift, some shifters claim that their clone had no idea. Personally, I was asleep for my whole mini-shift, so my clone didn’t really have the time to do/think anything. (I will happily update this section once I’ve fully shifted, however!~)

.

I hope those answers helped in some capacity! Like I said, I wrote this all right before I took my break, so it might be a little fuzzy. I was pretty tired that day :<

I'll be getting around to all the other asks in my inbox (8 in total) within the next few days! (Today included!) I'm attending a birthday party later today, so I won't be back for a good few hours, but once I am, I'll get right to work on those asks! If I find the time, I'll try to work on them while I'm at the party!~ (If anyone's curious, it was my nephew's second birthday a week ago! This is his second party, as my dad couldn't attend the first one, so it's a lot smaller and more casual :3c)

Happy to be back! And as always-

<3 Happy Shifting! <3

[so-litudinal]

i miss it here, kinda

main two reasons i haven't been around are 1) my phone died a few weeks ago and 2) my only consistant thought these days(?) is that i wanna disappear, as in i don't wanna/can't live, and i feel bad about only posting depressing, suicidal stuff (which is ridiculous, since i created this blog over 10 years ago as an online personal diary — but i guess shame follows me anywhere i go). 

my phone had been messing up for a long while, i know i should've gotten a new one at least a year ago. but it had been holding on (barely) anyway so i kept putting it off, as i do everything you know. but then one night i stupidly dropped it in the stairs. it only fell down a couple of steps and i seemed to be able to turn it back on just fine (albeit slow). but the day after it kept turning off randomly, until i couldn't turn it on anymore at all. anyway. guy at the repair shop couldn't do anything. and since i'm the worst, i hadn't backed up anything. i thought i'd lost everything, but turned out at least pictures and videos were saved to my cloud. still, i lost all my notes + audio recordings. i don't care all that much about the audios except for one i took two years ago of junko purring in my bed a few days before she died [now that i write this…i have a vague feeling i might’ve posted the audio here at the time… but i’m kinda scared to go back and look, only to be let down again]. thought/hoped i'd saved it somewhere on a hard drive with all her pictures but couldn't find it. 

what i'm saddest about is losing my notes. repair shop guy said that if i’m lucky (big lol….) and if my phone was connected to a google account (??? idk, my mom told me cuz of course i didn’t go myself), i might be able to retrieve them once i got a new phone. i’m not sure if that was supposed to be about my notes being saved to a google drive or something, cuz that wasn’t the case anyway. so yeah. years and years of notes. i’m dumb, so dumb that i kinda deserved this happening to me (watch it not be a learning lesson, just like anything else). the notes i really cared about were the fanfiction drafts + artwork ideas. speaking of, sorta crazy that i’m ashamed to talk about writing fanfiction on this blog. i’ve always had this compulsory need to “split” my personality and interests across different online platforms—irl too. don’t really wanna dig into that here and now but yeah, it probably all stems from shame and deeply rooted self-contempt + fear of judgement from others, even though most of my online presence has consisted of my existing in and talking to the void. some of those notes dated all the way back to 2020. there were some that i wrote on my pc but the large majority stayed on my phone for easy access when i got random ideas in the middle of the night or in the shower. i really liked most of what i wrote, even the stuff i didn’t necessarily have the intention of finishing. took about a week to buy another phone but it’s been 2 weeks since that and i still haven’t used it. been using a tablet. i guess i get used to not having a phone cuz with the way i live, like a hermit, i don’t even have much need for a phone’s primary functionalities anyway. i don’t go out at this point and i pretty much never contact anyone anymore. but also, every time i think about those notes i’ve lost, i feel like “what’s the point?” what’s the point of a phone if i’m gonna be so dumb about it. also—and that’s even more pathetic—what’s the point of writing at all. i’ve had ideas and things i’ve wanted to write about in that time but even on the occasion that i do start (on pc), i systematically get to a point where i lose interest, or rather the motivation to continue and finish. i’m aware that this mindset is not only worryingly cynical and pessimistic but also sounds ridiculously dramatic, even to myself. but i think the reason why is because when anything even mildly inconveniencing or upsetting happens, that plays into my depression and lack of purpose/will to live, and vice versa. vicious circle and all that, you know. everything, including the positive actually, ultimately brings me back to the same point, the same conclusion—it’s not worth it, because all of it is wasted on me, whose my life isn’t worth much at all, and all of it goes away or ends up in the same dumpster of despair, nothing will last, whether i stay alive or disappear. not that i necessarily believe this way of thinking is reasonable, or even truthful—more that it doesn’t matter whether i believe in it or not, because it so strongly influences, if not dictates my perception of all things in life. so yeah, all of this over a dead phone and a bunch of lost writings, but also not really. worst thing is i haven’t even had the motivation to kick my butt and at the very least save the images and videos from my cloud onto a hard drive yet. i’m gonna regret this. …i say, as i sit back and once again consciously watch myself doing the thing that will only lead to more regret and self-hatred. heheh. queen of self-sabotage.

speaking of things that i seemingly can’t react to in an appropriate, normal human way… on the 31st of last month, the gacha i game i’ve been playing every day for the past 3.5 years was announced for eos by the end of september. i mean. there’s more than one valid reason to be upset over this, for just about any other fan. and the series it’s based on has been so, so important to me for the past 4 years (see how i intentionally don’t name it like "here is not the place for that”? yeah). but idk. the fact that i was so shell-shocked by the news and once again left with the feeling that nothing is worth getting attached to…. i know this kind of response is disproportionate. pathetic. not healthy. not normal. i’ve gotten a bit more used to the perspective since—at least for now, cuz i can very well envision going back into full woe is me mode as the date of eos gets near.

there are 2 other observations, or whatever i should call them, i can make from this reaction. 1) not being able to access something (probably even more so since it’s a form of escapism) that’s been part of my life, without missing a day since creating the account on december 31st, 2020, makes it glaringly obvious how empty and repetitive my days are and have been for an embarrassing amount of time now—the worst part being that i’ve found some sick, sick sense of comfort in it being and staying so (anything else is….terrifying and something i can’t allow myself to aim for).

2) i’ve had this vague feeling for a while but never really bothered to put it into words until recently but the more my interest about a certain thing grows, the more i’m susceptible to become unsatisfied, not with the thing itself, but with myself and the way i engage with it. very passively—like i effectively let it pass me by like i do anything else in life. i don’t usually want to admit it cuz it’s a bad character trait of mine, but i’ve kind of accepted that i find no real joy in sharing an interest with other people, engaging with them over this thing we presumably have in common. i’m the worst, so ugly for that, because it’s obviously an envy/jealousy thing. but also i tend to wanna cut myself some slack (self-indulgent?) regarding that specific thing cuz i’m pretty sure it also comes from my overall lack of social skills—which, at its root, is not my fault (severe bullying at a young, crucial age + prolonged and repeated child neglect). i know that it has now, in my adult age, become my responsibility to address and grow past those traumas and their consequences, especially assuming i still have hope for a life worth living (not taking the “do i?” factor in consideration here for the sake of this argument). my generation wasn’t exactly born with the internet but we did, at least partially, grow up with it, and it’s now such a(n unnecessarily?) huge part of our daily life, just like younger generations. i mean, talking about generations is probably pointless—what matters is that this was effectively my experience with the internet. so yeah, all that to say that i’ve had an “online presence” (not just as an occasional user of computers/the internet as mere practical, communication, sometimes educational, even more rarely entertainment tools) from my early teens, if not earlier, via blogs and now ancient forms of social media lol (msn, i’ll always have nostalgia for you—but please don’t come back). anyway. my point being… i’ve been using the internet as a hyper-social shared space for a long time, and there’s something that i’ve come to realise has been true, if not from the start, at least more and more over time, and that i’ve had, still have a hard time recognising and accepting: i can’t connect with people online any more than i can in real life. i think i wished myself to be one of those people who, however socially awkward in real life, or even downright social outcasts, managed to find a place online. i never truly could. it’s gotten worse over this past decade (the worst these past 4 to 6 years), as i progressively lost touch with the outside world and became more and more isolated. all these factors, dating long back or recent, are reflected in my ongoing online experience. with social media, “online communities” (niches, fandoms, circles, etc.) as a concept are so prevalent, and it’s hard cuz never in my life have i had the feeling that i could belong to one in real life. i grew to even regard the idea of a community as something i had no desire to partake in (i don’t know if i still feel that way but thinking so is self-preservation). i remember for example, the lgbt community is one i never quite felt i wanted to identify with, beyond my orientation being what it is, even in my adolescence, and sure, that might’ve had something to do with my own internal struggles with my identity, but in a way, it also circled back to my aversion to social groups (which is very much based in trauma and not just me being an introvert). that naturally, and unfortunately, extended into my experience with online communities of all sorts. that being said… i think that as long as i accept this as a fact about myself, even a little, it’s tolerable and not that big of a deal. if it changes over time (that would require my irl circumstances to change first and, well…), fine, i guess. but if it doesn’t… idk. It’s still a bit sad. cuz the internet is a big part of my life, one that supposedly brings me joy in various forms (the most prevalent being escapism—and i refuse to let that go, why would i hurt myself in that way).

all that to say that this gacha game closing is just one of the instances that have brought me to think more about how to engage with the things i like in a more fulfilling manner. since connecting with others is not a viable option at this point (or maybe ever), i think the only way would be to be more proactive. make or acquire something—something of my own—out of those interests. like putting more effort into writing. learning how to draw/make art. become normal and earn money to collect more merch (tie-ins) so i can be physically surrounded by things that make me happy. create the space i could never find outside, inside. i don’t care if it’s not fully enough to make up for everything i feel like i’m missing out on, because it would still be better than the loneliness and bitterness i’ve been stuck with for the longest time.

i don’t really have any definite conclusion i draw from those observations, much less a plan of action, but i just kind of went off and wrote about them anyway, i guess. there’s that.

so yeah… well, you know.

aah it’s gonna be such a chore to read over this before posting…..probably won’t (or else i might just give up on posting entirely)......nevermind, i'm doing it now lol.

rare good news is that paimon seems to be on the tail end of a very long and intense moult. last time it was that bad was when i got her and she immediately underwent the very first moult of her life. at the worst of it, last month, maybe even the month before, she was so down. so quiet and skittish. i never even had an opportunity to touch her. and as always, i was scared it might be something else, like an illness, or even a stressed-induced moult. i’ve been scared that my own irregular, unhealthy lifestyle might start to impact her. i know i don’t deserve her. at the same time, i was hesitant to take her to the vet. she can be a pretty fearful bird to begin with, so i feared that having to go through that kind of stress (the trip itself, being in an unknown place, handled by a stranger) would only make her worse. in the end, the risk of that didn’t seem worth taking cuz there was a good chance the vet would’ve just said that it was indeed just a moult and it would’ve been all that anxiety for nothing. during the time it got really bad and she was completely distant, i started to wonder if this was a glimpse into what it would be like without her here anymore. i’d already been thinking before that i would probably not want to go on after her death and this… well. it feels very real. but she’s better now. i cried when she sat on my shoulder for the first time again, and when we started playing and she tried biting my fingers or my ear. the absolute best was getting to sniff her (there is not one better smell in the world than that of a bird) + petting her until she falls asleep in my hand. I love her very much.

going back to the whole notes and writing thing… i don’t easily let myself admit to positive thoughts and feelings (fear and defeatism, i guess). still, i wanna put out there, somewhere—here being as good a place as any—that i really like writing. it’s fun (especially when it “works” lol). and it’s one of the rare things i genuinely like doing for myself, regardless of the purpose, the quality, the destination. not even talking about what comes afterwards…

it’s one of the “better,” as in tangible, ways to distract myself i can think of (goes back to what i was saying about engaging with interests in a more productive way).

at least when i’m in the middle of writing, i’m having fun.

now that i’ve started, i don’t even wanna finish this right now. i could write more, too. but then it’ll get late and i’ll be frustrated for different reasons. and if i “leave it and come back later”... well, i know there’s a good chance it’ll end up in my drafts never to see the light of day again lol. and i did want to post something on this blog specifically cuz it’s a place dear to me on the internet. 

closing remarks: i’m thankful for cloud servers and birds always.

[heyitsthatonesmolgay]

Rant below the cut (and yes, there will be swearing. No, I don’t care.)

Listen, Connie wrote some fucked up shit. She held an account on a website that kept track of her writing streak. She maintained that streak, through blood sweat and tears, for almost two years. And she shared that writing online sometimes. It was fucked up, as previously stated. It shared dubious scenarios, perilous scenes, and in general got her flames and hate.

She’s mentioned this before, I’m sure, in the form of “journalling.” She would still write it, just keep it to herself now. After she got doxxed and got sexual assault threats, she decided it was better to get a fresh slate, start a new account where no one knew her and make some friends in a new fandom, a fandom she had adored since childhood.

Then, she integrated, and Nick became host.

Nick still wrote some fucked up shit. Maybe not as much as Connie, but he did. It was cathartic, though he couldn’t place why. It just…was. He kept it to himself, too, remembering the hurt Connie held from the myriad of threats on her person prior.

The reason I’m saying all this?

Nick feels guilty that he doesn’t create as much for posting anymore. He keeps traumatic shit to himself, but that’s about all he’s been writing lately. And there’s pretty good reason for that.

He found out why writing those stories was cathartic, about a month ago.

And we were 3 when it happened. And then again, at 18. And the time in between our father leaned on us too much, treating us like a friend instead of his child.

So. Nick has been writing fucked up shit, trying to process. But that revelation has left him depressed. He shattered a bit ago, his parts still mainly one alter but with different layers, and Nick isn’t usually the one in control, because he’s struggling with the emotional trauma realizing that we were a victim long before we could understand what that meant, long before we thought we were at first.

Oh, all of them still respond to Nick, but the one who kept that name specifically for himself isn’t as much the Nick you see today.

He feels guilty over the fact that he can’t make happy, fluffy, hurt/comfort, happy ending shit anymore. All he wants to write is dark, and depressing, and stuff that probably qualifies as what fandom nowadays treats as “dead dove.” Because while he doesn’t care as much if people know online, where he’s anonymous and goes by Nicholas Benedict, and not his legal name, he still values the friendships he’s made and doesn’t want to be pushed away because of his trauma and posting the writing he’s using to process.

He needed to let this go into the ether and let his friends be the judge of if he’s salvageable, but he also didn’t want to face the consequences if they decided no and blocked him for writing fucked up shit he kept to himself.

So we’re making this post. If you want to block us, you’re free to, I guess. It will hurt but it is your right.

If you still want to be our friend…understand that there won’t be trauma dumping on this blog as far as we can help it, and there won’t be intentionally fucked up nasty shit on our AO3. Nick keeps that to himself for a reason. But you need to understand that processing is important, and so we’ll post less than we’d like, and we’re not a content-producing machine with no feelings, so if you’re only here for fluffy or hurt/comfort MBS content you’re not going to be interacting with our blog as much for a while.

And no, we will not be answering any questions pertaining to Connie’s old accounts or what she wrote specifically. That’s private, and she didn’t share for her safety. Leave well enough alone.

Rant over, I guess.

Milligan & Two

[mimzy-writing-online]

Writing Toph Beifong, Advice from a Blind Writer

I’m Mimzy, an actual visually impaired writer and blogger who talks a lot about writing blind characters accurately and sensitively. A while back someone sent me an anon asking how to write Toph more accurately and sensitively.

Anonymous asked: Hi there! Your blog has been super-helpful already - I thought I knew a bit about writing with blind characters, but it turns out there was a lot to learn - but this is more specific. I'm writing a The Last Airbender fanfiction, and one of the characters is Toph. I think the fandom has done a fairly good job of respecting her blindness, but what are some things you'd like to see when people write her? I want to represent the character as best as possible; thanks in advance!

It’s taken a while for me to answer because I have a lot of thoughts about it as both a blind writer and someone who has read a lot of atla fanfiction. So here we go:

Before we get started, I want to mention some things: 

One: I have an entire series for writing blind characters that continues to grow with time and the most up-to-date version can be found pinned as the top post on my blog. There will be a time-stamp for when the post was last edited and a long series of links to all relevant posts on the subject.

Here’s a quick link to that post, but again, all you have to do is click my blog url and you’ll find it immediately.

Two: I’ve noticed something amazing about the atla fandom and I would like to thank you for it. I’ve noticed a lot of bloggers have taken to writing image descriptions for both the fanart and memes you post in the fandom, whether it’s OP including the description or another blogger adding it themselves. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a fandom so consistently doing this and that’s incredible. Realizing how many different blogs were picking up this habit has warmed my heart.

I’d like to see writers use her other senses. There’s soooo so much more to her O&M (Orientation and Mobility) than earth sense. 

Beyond sight and earth bending, there’s hearing, touch, smell, taste, sense of direction, hot vs cold, sense of pain, sense of where your body parts are in relation to the rest of you, sense of internal well-being, etc. Before Toph had mastery of her earth bending, she had to have mastery of those too.

Toph also must have very strong opinions about certain smells, sounds, tastes, and textures. Toph is opinionated about everything, and when so much of your understanding of the world depends on senses that most people are ignoring in favor of some other sense you don’t have, it gets frustrating. I’m sure that tree looks pretty but the smell is terrible. Who cares if this fabric looks pretty, it’s scratchy, do. not. like. at. all.

But also in positive ways too. Oh, that flower arrangement looks bland and monochromatic? Who cares, it smells sweet and honey-like. Weird dark cavern with high ceiling and no light? The harmonics are awesome.

Every character probably has a certain sight or image they’re particularly fond of: Katara watching snow fall, or Aang enjoying how small the world looks from up on Appa, or Zuko enjoying the sunrise every morning during meditation. In that line, Toph must have some things personal to her that she enjoys.

I imagine she likes the taste of foods familiar to her childhood, the smell of whatever flowers grew around her home, and the texture of certain kinds of dirt Example: loose dirt probably isn’t the best for seeing, but I think she would enjoy how it feels to run her fingers through it or maybe enjoy the way it softens her perception of the world the same way sighted people like to see colorful, bright lights reflecting off puddles in the middle of rain.

If you struggle with this, that’s okay. I recommend taking some time to think about it for yourself, to find what tastes and smells and textures and sounds you enjoy the most, what makes you feel safe and at home, what brings you comfort, and relate that back to Toph.

In a Modern AU, I want to see Toph have a cane. Even in a Modern AU with bending included in the world building, I think Toph would benefit from having a cane.

The cane has a lot more function than bumping into things. A big part is that it signals to others that you are very obviously blind. Which is a big deal because sighted people are really, really bad at spotting the blind person.

(psst, please stop saying ‘the blank look in her eyes’ because I swear to god it’s been killing me inside for years.)

Also, even in an AU with bending, I think Toph would like the advantage of tapping her cane to create a stronger, more distinct vibration than a small shifting of her weight on her feet. It would have more control.

You could give Toph a guide animal, buuuuuuut, um, Toph is not a guide dog person. Like, there are some people who definitely prefer a guide dog, and some people who definitely prefer a cane, and some who definitely prefer no mobility device at all. Toph does not have the vibes of someone who wants to be both responsible and reliant on an animal when she’s so insistent that she can take care of herself on her own. Toph likes animals, but not that much.

Although, yeah, only 10% of the blind community use mobility devices, so cane and guide dog users are the minority of the blind community, but I stand by the vibe that Toph would love the independence of a cane. Also, it’s almost never ever done. Modern AUs never seem to touch much on Toph’s O&M skills with canes or guide dogs.

I wrote a whole post on everything you need to know about canes, what orientation and mobility is, how you learn O&M, what kind of canes exist, how to use them, how to describe the sensory input a cane gives you, and everything I know about guide dogs from past research.

Honestly, you could give Toph (or any blind character) a cane in any AU, because I fully stand by the theory that canes are a piece of technology that has been invented, lost, and reinvented again and again.

I wrote “I found a piece of lost blindness history” a few months ago after a visit to see my grandparents. My grandmother told me how her blind aunt found a way to write letters by hand to send to my grandmother when she was a child. I speculated on how the long cane has probably been invented and then lost and then reinvented over and over again in history, as well as giving a little history on the growing popularity of guide dogs in the 20th century following World War 1.

About the “blank look in her eyes,” I have a theory to the exact cause and nature of Toph’s blindness.

I know it’s common to think that the milky green color of her eyes is why she’s blind, though I’m not sure how many realize that milky green color is caused by severe cataracts. At least, cataracts is what I assume to be the reason for the color of her eyes. However, people with cataracts still have some remaining sense of light and shadow perception.

Only 9% of the blind community is completely blind, seeing absolutely nothing. The rest have some remaining vision, even if that’s only light and shadow perception or the perception of vague movement.

The percentage of people born completely blind is even smaller.

Toph says that she’s never been able to see, which would lead me to guess that the initial cause of her blindness was a defect with the visual processing part of her brain. I also theorize that the cataracts developed slowly over her very formative years and that she likely wasn’t born with them. For that reason, I think it would have taken a few weeks or months for her parents to realize there was something wrong with her eyes.

Here is a post about the developmental years of blind children and how their life would differ from both sighted children and from someone who went blind as an adult.

What is it like to see nothing?

It’s a concept that sighted people struggle with and I completely understand. I myself didn’t understand the concept of “nothing” until someone explained it as this:

“Imagine trying to see out the back of your head.”

Which, genuinely, imagine that. Try that. Because here’s what I found. There’s no part of my body that can help perceive that. I don’t have eyes there, nor do I have a part of my brain that can process that. Because of this, there is no sense of light or dark, no shape or shadow or movement or depth that I can perceive. There is nothing.

And honestly, it gives me a headache trying to think too much about it.

Toph doesn’t see black, doesn’t have a mental image of it. When people talk about light and dark, Toph has nothing to base the concept on. The closest relation she has to that is silence versus sound, or her earth sense when she’s in the air on Appa versus when she’s on solid ground. But it’s not the same.

I would like to examine the way the show tried to describe Toph’s earth sense, that black void with ripples of white stretching from her feet and outwards. Television is a visual medium so of course their explanation of Toph’s earth sense would be visual, but that’s not what it’s actually like in her head. More accurately, it’s like touching the back of your head to something and feeling what’s solid behind it and what has more give. A wall versus a pillow for example. Slamming your hand on a flimsy table and feeling it rattle under your palm. And for someone so adept at using that sense, she feels not just the table surface under her palm, but the individual rattles down the four legs, how uneven those rattles are because the legs are carved decoratively instead of solid planks, and how the foot of each leg bumps against the ground, and how the floor vibrates in response to the impact, which she feels in both her feet and hand. 

About Toph’s Relationship with Her Parents

It’s not something I see touched on much. There’s been a lot of focus on Zuko and Azula’s relationship with their parents and the abuse, as well as exploration of Sokka and Katara’s trauma with losing their mother, and Sokka looking up to his warrior father while Katara struggles with her abandonment issues.

Please don’t take this as a critique, because there are a few valid reasons for this and I would like to give you some insight on how to explore Toph’s relationship with her parents.

For starters, the show had a lot more reason to focus on Zuko and Azula’s parents, with Fire Lord Ozai being the primary villain and Zuko’s greatest abuser, and Azula’s dependent worship of her father in response to Ursa’s neglect and favoritism of Zuko, which was likely Ursa’s response to Ozai’s favoritism of Azula. Their parents are huge driving motivators for why Zuko and Azula make the decisions and mistakes they do, why they are at one point in the show the villains themselves. (And why I think Azula should get a redemption arc and some healing.)

Katara’s trauma of losing her mother and blaming herself is a huge factor in both her response to the war, her relationship with her bending, and her motherly nature with her friends. The show has to explore that. Just as it has to explore Sokka’s problems with toxic masculinity in response to being the man of his village, and his desire to be a great warrior and leader like the father he idolizes. 

The show needs to explore that to make the plot move forward, and it benefits from these being two sibling sets with different responses to their upbringing and different sibling dynamics, setting them up as foils for each other.

The show also wouldn’t benefit by giving Lao and Poppy Beifong more screen time. Their established character were two nobles who kept as far out of the war as possible and prospered monetarily for it. Poppy was polite and demure and Lao liked to lead the conversation. Unless the gAang decided to return to Toph’s home, those characters had no reason to pop up anywhere in the show. And if they did, they would be a hinder to Toph and her part in the plot as both Aang’s earth bending teacher and as the greatest earth bender in the world, tossing Fire Nation soldiers eight ways to Sunday. 

So truly, I understand that there’s not a whole lot of canon material (comparatively) to go off of when developing this, but I will offer some insight on what is there in canon.

Toph’s relationship with her parents is explored in that it maps out why Toph doesn’t want to be mothered by Katara, why she wants to prove how independent she is, but there’s very little on screen interaction between Toph and her parents.

Toph deeply loves her parents. I think that plays into why she doesn’t want Katara mothering her, because she has a wonderful mother at home who she loves and wants to better understand her, but she had no friends growing up and no older sister, which are the roles she needs and wants Katara to fill. If Toph wanted a mother figure, she would have latched onto Katara. Look at how Zuko never sought out another mother figure but did find a father figure in Iroh as he began to heal from his childhood trauma and separate his self image from his father’s acceptance.

Toph is in a complicated situation, she loves her parents but the way they’re raising her is hurting her in the long run. But Toph can see that their actions are because of their immense love for her. She can see how they would do anything for her. While she never had any examples of how other noble children were treated by their parents, who might have been distant or disinterested or always away for their social and work lives, she was remarkably loved by her parents. Her father put careful thought into her tutors and checked in on her progress. Her mother feared for Toph’s emotional state when she was kidnapped (even if she was incorrect about how Toph would respond), showing genuine empathy for her daughter.

I think their over protective nature became the love language Toph best understood them by, and part of her reasoning for not revealing how capable she was, was because she wanted to keep experiencing that love and care for as long as she could. But it’s not a love language she would put up with from anyone else.

I would like to point out Toph’s genuine excitement to see her mom again in the season finale of Book Two, how badly Toph wants her mom to understand and accept her for who she is.

My thoughts on what Toph can’t do: read, swim, see in the sand, fight things mid-air.

For how incredibly powerful the show makes Toph with her earth bending and the O&M she taught herself through it, they do touch on some of her weaknesses when they come up and find a useful way to showcase them.

The Serpent’s Pass was an excellent example of Toph’s vulnerability in water. From her fear of not being able to see on Katara’s ice bridge to not being able to swim and needing Suki to save her, Toph’s weaknesses putting her in danger added to the excitement and “sitting on the edge of your seat” feeling while watching the episode without turning her into someone who was helpless. She was just in a position where her normal defenses were useless.

Just like the earth benders in the metal prison in the ocean, or Katara having little water in the middle of a desert where her friends needed that water to survive more than she needed it to fight, making her vulnerable later in the show when the insect-wasp things attacked. Just like fire benders being weaker at night, or powerless during a solar eclipse, or a sighted person being lost in the dark. Those were just situations in which the tools you were accustomed to relying on could no longer help you or were taken away.

The show was clever in that it didn’t make her inability to read a direct threat to her safety, but rather as a clever plot device for her to be alone when the sand banders attacked and have to choose between fighting them to save Appa, or holding back an entire fricking building by the tiniest spire on its very top from falling into a void leading to the spirit world. It also showed her weakness to not being able to see or fight as well in sand. Which the show later made an effort to show how she’d improved on that problem in Book Three when she was surrounded by nothing but sand at Ember Island.

Like improving her ability to see in the sand, I would like to see a character teach Toph to swim, or at least float, so that she never feels helpless again. If she took the initiative to improve her sand bending so much, I’m sure she would have learn to swim eventually.

And on the note of reading, I’ve seen some speculation on how Toph could learn to read, whether it’s through using ink that has some percentage of earth mixed in, or developing the sensitivity to feel out the different weight, consistency, and texture of ink on paper. 

I would like to bring your attention to Louis Braille, the blind Frenchman who invented Braille while studying at  the Institut National des Jeunes Aveugles, the world’s very first school for the blind in Paris France (established 1785). Previously Louis was learning to read through a method in which each letter was pressed into the paper to leave an imprint that someone could feel out with just their fingers.

Louis Braille concluded that raised lettering was impractical because-

1.       It is difficult to read, the letters had to be printed in huge font to be fully felt out and printed on thick paper.

2.       Thick paper means higher quality, more expensive. Larger font means more paper is needed for a single text.

3.       This made it inaccessible due to expense and the sheer volume of a text.

4.       If today’s Braille books are hard to access and giant compared to traditional books, I can’t imagine how inaccessible those raised letter books really were.

The subject of Braille, the start and controversial near downfall to  Institut National des Jeunes Aveugles were discussed in a post about writing a blind character during the Victorian Era.

I’ve heard others complain in the past about fantasy universes in which a sighted person invents a solution to allow the blind to read, when the most effective and longest lived method was invented by a blindman over two hundred years ago and is the standard taught in schools today.

And while I couldn’t easily explain it or how it works because I can neither read Braille nor speak Chinese, I can tell you that Chinese Braille exists and works only slightly differently from the Braille western languages use. So, again, modern AUs especially would benefit from enabling Toph to read Braille and use a computer and phone with screen reader.

But just as easily you could choose not to have her learn to read but rather have sighted people read things aloud to her. Whether it’s in a professional setting as an adult having an assistant who reads and writes for her, or as a cute, fluffy little moment between Toph and another character. Both are just as genuine to the blindness experience.

Blind Jokes

If you ever get around to reading my post about blind jokes, I’d like you to remember that it’s primarily written for people writing original characters and that Toph canonically makes blind jokes, so to take away from that would not be true to her character.

Does Toph’s Earth Sense Negate her Blindness?

It’s a question I’ve seen raised before and discussed by both abled, disabled, and blind people. There are multiple perspectives on it, but my own take on it is that Toph’s earth bending does not negate her blindness, but rather functions very much like the process of learning to use a cane.

She had a tool, a teacher, and she learned to use that tool. Instead of a cane, it was seismic perception and her teacher were blind badger-moles. She spent years learning to earth bend as they do and then continued to take it to new heights as she explored fighting with it on her terms against sighted fighters.

Come to think about it, I would love to see Toph teach another visually impaired or blind earth bender who to see and bend as she does.

Is Toph Good Blindness Representation?

This question was posed to me in the comments of my master post, and my answer was something like this: “Toph is good representation, but she can't be the only type of representation we get. She's the best we had 15 years ago, but there are a million ways to nuance the blindness experiences. Toph's experience being born blind, having very over protective parents, being a small girl in a patriarical and wealth influenced society, having no friends growing up. Those are all great aspects of blindness to show, but there is so much more to explore. As for her blindness and whether or not that's negated, that's also nuanced. She has limits, she's not all-powerful, but she is the best earth bender hands down. More or less, I love Toph, she's a great character, give me like a million more blind characters who are completely different from her.”

I want to see accurate and well-written blind characters become much more common in modern media, and that’s why I started this blog. So if you decide you want to write your own blind character from scratch, feel free to come back and look at some of my other stuff.

End Notes:

I want to thank the anon who sent the original question because it never occurred to me how much the atla fandom would benefit from a post like this. 

You should follow my blog. Along with advice about writing blind characters, I write general writing advice and answer questions about writing, college, plot development, character analysis, and living with blindness. I curate writing advice from fellow writeblrs, write my own image descriptions for writing memes, post about mental health and working/living with ADHD, disabilities outside of blindness, and LGBTQA+ topics. 

[buckyownsmylife]

Just One - John Winchester smut

The one where John has been obsessed with killing you but now that he found you...

Warnings: smut, as close to hatefucking as I can write, witch!reader, masturbation (f), oral (m, f), dirty talk, degradation laced with praise?, hairpulling kink, namecalling (bitch, whore), John wants it to hurt, slight size kink (blink and you’ll miss), p in v, spanking, biting, unprotected sex, cumplay, unspecified age gap

Word count: 2.2k

A/N:  This one is a part of my kinktober celebrations. My original intention for this October was to work exclusively around prompts that my wonderful friend @darkficsyouneveraskedfor created for her challenge and dedicate each story to a different friend. My new plan became then 31 days of different kinks, which expanded on a poly relationship with Stucky, as you might know by now. However, some of the stories I started were already truly loved by me, and so I kept on writing them. It worked well because as it turns out, I am fortunate enough to have more than 31 friends on Tumblr, so here is the story I wrote for @negans-attagirl​. This most likely celebrates my last time writing for John! Special thanks to my @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ for reading this even though she’s not really into Supernatural! I love you for it!

I knew he was there. Watching. I’d been running away from him for so long, it felt like second nature now - to look over my shoulder, hold my breath when a stranger got too close. Watch the shadows and see if they took the form of a well-built man who wanted nothing more than to see me dead.

But I didn’t just wait around for my inevitable ending, oh no. I’d studied him just as much as he did to me, prepared myself for what was to come as I fled the state and traveled borders in the hopes of throwing him off. I concocted potions and spells and thought about everything I could do to him whenever he found me again.

Most of all, I thought of him. How could I not? Not only was he my main concern in this life, but the man was just walking sin. And if I were to go down, I was determined to at least go down on him before he killed me.

So I slowly left the diner across from the motel I’d been hiding in for the last three weeks and returned to my room, making sure to leave the door unlocked while I took off my clothes. The sound of the door closing behind me wasn’t unmistakable, and we both knew that. “Feel like joining me?” I asked as I sat down on the bed and spread my legs for his eyes, my hand traveling down my body, playing with my nipples before settling between my thighs. He didn’t look confused, not even for a moment.

This sexual tension between us, it’d never been one-sided. It was there from the beginning, electrifying our interactions as desire swirled in the air around us. I was convinced it was the main reason why he couldn’t just let me go.

He leaned his head to the side, but didn’t say anything. He was too focused on what I was doing, the way my fingers rubbed my clit before dipping inside my hole only to come back up wetter, the sounds of my actions filling the air around us.

“I don’t see why not.” The words sent a thrill up my spine, and without even stopping to consider what I was doing, I dropped to my knees before him, reaching out for his jeans. “Can’t let you get off all by yourself.”

I hummed appreciatively as I stuck out my tongue to lick the red head of his cock, already intoxicated with his taste. “Such a gentleman… even when you’re planning to kill me.” His chuckle was like thunder, reverberating through me and making my clit throb as I wrapped my lips around his member.

“It would be a waste if I didn’t put this pretty mouth to work.” His thumb brushed against my lower lip until I licked it and enveloped it with my mouth, making him groan. “So fucking warm. I’m gonna enjoy filling this hole with my cock.”

His words had me clenching around nothing, the overwhelming wetness that dripped from me now slathering the inside of my thighs, no doubt reaching the floor. It made me desperate to please him, desperate to fill my mouth with his cock.

So I wrapped my lips around the head of his member and began sucking, at first looking up to see his darkened, lust-filled eyes before actually closing mine to fully appreciate his taste, the weight of him on my tongue.

I licked every single inch of his skin until my saliva coated his member. It was a beautiful cock, a cock that deserved to be worshiped. I wasn’t one to enjoy being on my knees too much, but his thickness was just too tempting. I needed to pay it the proper respects.

So I took him as well as I could, ignoring the way tears rose to my eyes as I willingly choked myself on his cock, trying my best to breathe through my nose in an effort to reach his navel.

I wasn’t able to. But he didn’t seem to mind, hand wrapped around my hair, forcing my movements as I slobbered all over his dick. “Such a good little cocksucker…” he absentmindedly commented, almost to himself.

“Were you expecting me?” I looked up to see him looking down at me, actually waiting for an answer. So I pulled away, wiped the spit from my jaw before replying honestly, “Always.”

Because, well… How could I sleep peacefully without thinking about the man who wanted to kill me?

But his answer was a chuckle and an almost condescending head pat, his deep warm voice making me even wetter when he complimented, “Good girl.” God, he could kill me right now. I’d go willingly and happily.

I eagerly sucked him off a bit longer, losing myself in the almost-sounds that I could pick up from his body: the little groans and pants, the way he cleared his throat instead of growling his desire for me. He wouldn’t give in, wouldn’t show his satisfaction to a little witch.

I could live with that.

“Stop that.” His words were accompanied by a harsh tug on my hair, pulling me up until I was standing on my tip toes, my face mere inches from his. “Wanna fuck you now. I can kill you tomorrow.”

The fact that he never kissed me didn’t escape me. This was a quick fuck, it would not be mistaken as anything else. Still, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t drag as much fun out of it as I possibly could… especially considering these might very well be my last hours of living.

“So you want me?” I questioned, smirking at his answering huff. He didn’t want to admit it, of course - that would be recognizing I had some sort of power over him. So he opted to tighten his grip on my hair until I moaned from the pleasurable pain, eyes sparkling in their darkness as he took in just how desperate I was for him.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he settled for saying as I laughed. “Always a fucking tease. Is your cunt as bitter as your soul, brat?” I bit my lip as he threw me on the bed, already anticipating his next move.

“Find out for yourself.” His expression made it clear that he was doubtful when he tore off my underwear and threw the scraps of it over his shoulder, pulling me to the edge of the bed by my ankles without much care.

He pressed on the inside of my thighs to keep my legs spread for him, and when his tongue licked a line up my cunt, I clenched around nothing, eyes closing for just a second to relish in the barely-there sensation.

“Oh, fuck…” His voice was barely over a whisper, but I still heard it and when I opened my eyes to look at him, he was staring directly at his meal, like he couldn’t believe what he had just tasted. “So fucking sweet…”

He went back there with a newfound hunger, and although I knew he wasn’t doing this to make me cum, I also knew he would achieve that - easily. It didn’t take many of his long swipes over my hole, the twirls around my clit to make me gasp for him, hands flying down to pull on his hair.

I think the only reason he didn’t slap them away was because he seemed to like the slight sting I provided him.

“Fucking cum, bitch,” he growled at some point, surprising me until he revealed why it was that he wanted me to orgasm. “I want to drink all of your essence before I shove my cock into you, make sure it’ll really sting.”

But I knew it was more than that - I knew he wanted more of my taste. It was everywhere now, dripping from his beard, smearing the inside of my thighs, but he kept his eyes focused on me, waiting for my breaking point.

I saw embers of flames when it arrived. Maybe it predicted my death at the stake, but I couldn’t mind it. Not when John was rising to his full height and very easily turning me around to lay on my stomach, keeping my legs dangling off the edge of the bed when he kicked them apart.

I was trapped under his much larger body and I didn’t mind it at all. He shoved my face against the bed, like he didn’t want to see it as he slowly started to stretch me out.

I bit my lower lip as I struggled to adjust around his thickness, and by the sounds John was releasing, I could see he was just as overwhelmed by me and the pussy he wanted to destroy.

I couldn’t believe how good it felt to be ravished by John Winchester. No one had ever fucked me like this before, and I was sure he knew, with the melodic moans that kept slipping from my lips, try as I might to reel them in.

“Those fucking sounds…” He groaned behind me, seconds before his hand landed harshly on the right cheek of my ass, making me whine even louder. “You’re a filthy little whore, aren’t you?”

I was too far gone to even try to deny it, fucking myself back against his delicious thick cock, desperate to cum again, this time feeling completely full of him.

“Who would have thought…” He panted, hips maintaining their onslaught against me. “Nasty fucking witch, such a tight little pussy.” Each word was accompanied by a particularly brutal thrust and I relished in it. I relished in witnessing the great John Winchester get carried away because of my body.

“Fuck,” he cursed after he managed to locate my sweet spot, which in turn had me instinctively clenching around him. “Why do you feel so fucking good?”

Under him, I just giggled, my hand easily locating the spot above where we were connected so I could rub myself to an orgasm. “I’m convinced you’re the devil, little witch.”

Stifling a laugh, I started to move my hips back so I could fuck myself on him, showing him how I liked to be treated - even harder and rougher than he was already treating me. And because I really was a brat, I couldn’t help but taunt, “Do you feel sorry you have to destroy it?”

I knew he understood I was referring to my pussy, and when his hand slapped mine away so he could take over the motions over my clit, I closed my eyes to let bliss take me.

“Almost,” he grunted, a confession I almost lost in the fog of my high. But here lied an opportunity, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away without a fight.

“I mean… you could just keep it,” I offered, barely over a whisper so as not to anger the man who kept fucking me. I didn’t want him to stop his movements, so I hoped even if he did get pissed at my suggestion, he’d just take it out on me. “Use it whenever you want.”

I didn’t get a response from him - at least, not verbally. But he did speed up his movements, pounding me so hard the bed started to hit the wall and I knew we were seconds away from having the neighbors banging on it, telling us to keep it down, but I couldn’t care less.

Not when John was burying his face in the crook of my neck, beard tickling me as he bit on my shoulder to keep his roar from reverberating in the room when he shot his cum deep inside of me.

He didn’t wait even a second before pulling out. I missed his weight on top of me, but the feeling of his cum slowly slipping from my used pussy was enough to give me some comfort.

“Shit, I really opened you up, huh?” He chuckled, rubbing his cream around my hole before pushing it back into me, making me whine. “I’m still fucking hard. Did you put a spell on me, brat?”

I laughed as he massaged my ass, apparently incapable of fully retreating his touch from my skin. “Is that why I’m still aroused?” He insisted, rutting his very much, still hard member against my thigh. “Tell me.”

Stretching, I giggled at his silly accusation. “I think I just turn you on, old man,” I teased, wiggling my ass at him. He took the bait and spanked it, before I felt his weight leave the bed altogether.

“Well, I’m going to take a shower, wash you off of me,” he explained, stopping at the door of the bathroom to stare at me. “You better be there when I come out,” he warned and I bit my lip, understanding exactly what he meant.

“I don’t think I can walk if I tried,” I giggled, but he just tipped his head back, humming noncommittally. Before long, I heard the shower turning on, the sound of the water running down the drain almost lulling me to sleep.

I made sure to leave my panties right next to the note I wrote for him to find when he got out of the shower. Three simple words, a promise: “Until next time”.

[angstywildcats]

lol hey, I know this blog comes off as a “for content/art” blog and I generally intend to keep it that way but this evening the warrior brainworms are back in town and I don’t have many places to share my thoughts for this kinda stuff,

this isn’t an official post or trying to push people to get to agree with me (I am not enough of an elegant speaker).  dfnjsdfn read if you want, but don’t feel inclined. I’m not trying to be groundbreaking or anything.  I think it’s just a lil vent about how I feel about how squirrelflight as a character is approached

CW: I discuss a little bit of the abuse, but not in detail

I AM so very glad we are past the early 2010s of Warriors amvs for sure at least. Back then “Ashfur did nothing wrong” was a common thing to say and everyone just went along with it, not knowing better from being young teens lol. But man the sexism still sticks and it sucks that Squirrelflight and what she went through is still debated. At least its going in the right direction?? But whew. It’s best to ignore and just go along my day, but seeing a random commenter or even someone who has Ashfur apologist as a name still bothers me more than I want LOL It’s hard to figure out how to consume a book series which... is pretty badly written and has many many many loose ends and issues, and I don’t really wanna police or judge on how people consume stuff. (As long as you’re not being a Freak. This is not a proship defense post get out) BUT I GUESS sometimes the way Ashfur is still perceived makes me uneasy? Like don’t get me wrong. he sounds like a pretty cool villain when he possessed Bramble, and while I personally don’t feel its true to his character to have?? Done whatever he did in the later books (I have . only read One chapter of ALITM and done no other warriors reading in a WHILE) it sounds kinda cool as a premise ig. And like many situations its easy to twist characters into their fanon, I think it’s just.. a little. Just a little. upsetting to have Ashfur to be seen as Such a Cool Character (tm) or whatever.

I think it really stems from the fact that. Ashfur’s decisions and actions all start from the fact he was the rejected love interest that went too far after Squirrelflight very maturely told him that she wasn’t interested. Just because of this, he assists in a murder, threatens Squirrel’s family and even after death seeks revenge and Succeeds when he targets Squirrelflight again. 

So far I don’t think there’s been any levity or relief from Squirrelflight having to go through grief or sadness and it really sucks at this point. I think the thing drives me insane is that Squirrel’s situation of getting such a backlash over a rejection is. Something that still constantly happens IRL. And Squirrelflight is almost Never acknowledged as a victim. Not by the other characters, and I don’t think the authors really grasped the weight of her situation they wrote her in either. It’s exhausting, really. I think i should really focus my blame the Warriors writing team for not approaching it better, but as someone who mostly hangs around for the fandom, it does feel like it’s sometimes thrown around too lightly :(

This is probably just a nitpick, and I’m not harshly criticising participants, hosts or artists of any kind who create the content, but a lot of AU or just, general projects and videos I see revolving squirrel is often about the miserable events of her life, either twisting them maybe to be Worse as a bad end or just. Highlighting them. 

I don’t blame anybody tho lol, it’s not like the source material has given much else but then again, we’ve had AUs and explorations of other background characters that end with brighter outcomes, so what’s stopping that from happening to Squirrel? It’s sometimes just a bit sad that there isn’t much chance to give anything else JDNFJNDFN

animal media huh. lets authors write dark things in Childrens books. And get away with poorly writing dark and sensitive topics.

[stormblessed95]

Hey Stormy!

I’m pretty sure I found you from your first post or one of your first post. It was a post talking about how Jimin was always there for JK in times of injury and actively participated in conversations surrounding JK’s wellbeing. I found you by searching up Jikook on Tumblr and I remember seeing that you were a new blog with not many posts, but I was impressed by the post I mentioned above and followed you right away. I was new to Tumblr back in April 2021 and did a whole bunch of lurking, actively searching Jikook and reading other blogs to see which ones I liked. I basically was running my own recruitment of Jikook blogs to follow lol and you were one of the lasts blogs I found by way of searching before I settled in. I pretty much read every post of yours in real-time because I have never missed a day on Tumblr since I arrived (I need a life I know haha). I feel like I’ve watched you grow on here and settle into your own way of doing things. I was here for when you first told us you wanted to start your now infamous Masterlist (I remember someone basically made a detailed one for you and sent it in as an ask), I was here when you were running out of room on your Masterlist and needed suggestions to make it longer than one page. I was here when you still used to respond to asks with other bloggers posts in them but then quickly changed to ask permission from other blogs before addressing such asks. I was here when your anons used to be on all the time then shifted to your limited time only ON approach haha (fun fact: you once forgot to turn them off when you said you were going to and I sent in an ask to remind you that they were still on!). Oh and I accidentally found you on Twitter too haha; in summer 2021 you wrote a post that went semi-viral on Jikook Twitter and I saw a random comment that credited your @ for it, and I’ve been following you there ever since too. As others have said I really like how you write and how thorough and factual-leaning your posts are (btw I’ve read most of your comments left on other blogs too). You go Glen Stormy! I’m glad I found your blog and I’ll continue to read everything you post. 💜For pretty much all the blogs I follow, I read many of their posts to get a feel for them before I committed to following them but as I mentioned above, I followed you only after one post so I guess that means you’re special haha xo 💕🫶🏽💕

Oh my gosh, is it this post??

This was another one that blew up on me unexpectedly for me. Lol and this was before I was more careful about keeping my accounts seperated. So I posted a more condensed verison on Twitter to fit the character limit and it got a lot of attention there too 🤣 So it doesn't surprise me that you found me there too! If you tell me who you are in return, maybe we can be twt moots too! If we aren't already 👀🥰

Thank you for finding me and sticking by me for so long! That's amazing!! I kind of feel like you and the others who've been here since the beginning have watched me go through the tumblr verison of your awkward teenage years. Lmao when I joined tumblr I had NO IDEA what I was doing, how anything worked, how to link anything. I would post a lot of "how do i do xyz" on tumblr. People would send in asks or DMs with tips and help. Someone sent me other blogs masterlists and how to create them. Like those of you who've been here since or before May 2021, yall are the real MVPs of this blog. 💜💜💜 and I appreciate you all so much! Thanks for always looking out for me too! Love you guys! 🥰

[shihalyfie]

Regarding Konaka’s influence on Tamers (or how much he actually didn’t have)

(Rest assured that if you’ve had a conversation with me recently about this issue, I’m not vaguing you; this conversation has come up a lot in the last few weeks, especially in my private chats, so this is just me deciding that I should write something about this for once since it’s been weighing on my head lately.)

I think, right now, with what happened regarding the DigiFes debacle, a lot of people are having complicated feelings about how to feel about Tamers, and this is completely understandable. I think there are also some things that may be inevitably unavoidable, such as starting to second-guess certain nuances in the series and what they might lead to. All of that is perfectly reasonable, and in the end, it’s going to be up to everyone to decide how they feel.

In light of this, a lot of people have been bringing up the fact that, while Konaka was the head writer, he was by no means the only person working on it. This is very much true, but I’d like to add something else to the equation: this is an issue that goes much deeper than the usual claiming death of the author for the sake of sanity. The full picture is that Konaka has always had much less influence on the series than the fanbase tends to attribute to him. Official statements have been very clear as to not attribute the entire��series to him, and, among all the other controversial statements he’s made, Konaka himself has at least been very active about crediting the other staff members as far as their influence on the series! The idea that he was the only person who ever did anything substantial for Tamers is something I’ve been warning against since long before any of this happened (if you want proof, I have a post from April with this sentiment in it), and right now we just happen to be seeing what’s basically the worst possible outcome of the fanbase constantly worshipping him like the only real creative heart behind the series to borderline cult-like levels...when that’s never been true, and has resulted in unfairly taking credit away from people who deserved it.

I’ll go into detail below, and I hope this can help people understand the situation better and sort out how they feel about it.

Note that I make references to his infamous blog in this post, which I’m deliberately refraining from directly linking for obvious reasons, but all of the information is still there, so it should be verifiable if you decide to look for it yourself.

Personally, I’ve always found it really bizarre how there’s been this obsession with portraying Konaka as some kind of auteur whom the entirety of Tamers depended on. I’m not saying this out of spite towards him, because, again, even he himself was very insistent on disclaiming credit for things he wasn’t actually responsible for (he was quite humble in this respect, actually). Not to mention that I think it’s a mistake in general to constantly pin a single person in a multi-person production as the sole heart behind it, and the Digimon fanbase has historically had this strange double standard behind it when it comes to uplifting him as the only heart behind Tamers when nobody says that about any of the head writers for...anything else. (How many times has Nishizono’s name ever popped up when talking about Adventure? People are usually more obsessed with talking about Kakudou or Seki.) Konaka’s work is certainly distinctive, but Tamers had a lot more going on besides just that.

In fact, based on his own statements on the matter and all of the other official information we’ve gotten about Tamers production, while you can’t really quantify such things, it’s generally been estimated that Konaka was responsible for something like only a fourth of the series. Which is an incredibly low amount compared to what the fanbase would have told you before all of this happened, because of this fixation that he must be the genius mastermind behind the whole series. Not only that, this “brilliant auteur” image of him was so inflated that people were attributing way more of 02 to him than he deserved; 02 episode 13 was the only thing he contributed to the series and he was specifically brought on as a “guest writer”, and the overall plot of the episode was determined by the rest of the production staff and not him -- but ask the fanbase and they’ll tell you stories about how he invented some grand planned arc for 02 that got cancelled, or even that Tamers exists because of a “writer revolt” from him and other writers not being allowed to do what they wanted. (You know, as much as I understand 02′s a controversial series, it would be really nice if people didn’t make up completely baseless stories like this just to scapegoat it...)

I honestly cannot emphasize enough how much of the problem we’re in right now has been horribly enabled by the weird pedestal the fanbase has been putting him on. This is to the point where there’s even been a double standard where some of the more unpopular/criticized elements of Tamers must not have been the fault of a brilliant writer like him, and in fact was forced on him by the executives (this excuse had always been brought up anytime someone doesn’t like something about Tamers, just to make sure the image of him as a perfect writer was maintained). Turns out, as per his own admission on the infamous blog, while he wasn’t the one who initially had the idea of putting Ryou in, the part that rubbed the fanbase the wrong way -- that he came in as an accomplished senior who was better than everyone and played up by everyone in the cast -- was unabashedly his idea (he apparently was enamored with the idea of having someone like Tuttle from the movie Brazil). Again, this is a weird scenario where even Konaka himself has been more humble about this issue than the fanbase’s perception of him; he fully admitted whenever he had trouble writing certain parts. For instance, he doesn’t actually like writing about alternate worlds, felt they were out of his comfort zone, and only wrote in the Digital World because the franchise needs one; he’d stated that if he’d had his way, the Digital World arc wouldn’t have come in as early as it did, which might be a pretty shocking statement for a Digimon fan to hear.

If you want even more specifics, here are some extremely major parts of the series that Konaka was not actually the one behind:

The character backgrounds. Konaka stated on his blog that he wasn’t interested in going too much into character backstories because he felt it was too plot-limiting to say that a character is the way they are thanks to something in their past or background (basically, he cares more about plot than character for the most part), and that he’s also not into worldbuilding. Certain things like Ruki going to a girls’ school were supplied by Seki, who infamously loves worldbuilding, family backgrounds, and character settings.

Certain nuances of Ruki’s character, especially the part where she’s pigeonholed into uncomfortable places due to being a girl, were informed by Yoshimura Genki, writer from Adventure and one of the head writers of 02 (who eventually would go on to create an entire career out of feminist cinema).

According to the posts on his blog, Impmon’s character arc didn’t have much input from Konaka himself and was largely written in by Maekawa Atsushi (also a writer from Adventure and one of the head writers of 02).

The whole concept of Yamaki being redeemable in the first place was something Konaka didn’t originally plan for; he’d initially intended to make him a straightforward antagonist, but, of all things, his Christmas song, combined with the input of the other writers (especially Maekawa) humanizing him, led to the development where Yamaki eventually changed sides and became sympathetic. (This makes Konaka’s recent stunt revolving around Yamaki a bit painfully ironic.)

The director, Kaizawa Yukio, was deliberately picked because he didn’t have experience on the prior series, for the sake of changing things up, and he spent Tamers as a period of studying what Digimon should be like. Based on what he’s hinted, it seems Konaka's writing style and choices were able to have as much influence as they did because Kaizawa approved of them -- that is to say, Konaka’s detailed imagery and descriptions were extensive enough that Kaizawa could go “sure, let’s go with that.” But in the end, nothing Konaka did would have gone through unless Kaizawa and Seki (among many others) didn’t also approve of it or provide input. Moreover, Kakudou Hiroyuki (director of Adventure and 02) has also been stated many times to have been a valuable consultant on invoking Digimon so that the new staff could understand what to aim for and how to get the right feel (and also assisted with providing stuff for the mythos, such as the Devas). Nevertheless, Kaizawa also seems to have had his own strong opinions and input on the story; he especially seems to get passionate when it comes to the topic of making the story something the kids watching it could relate to and imagine. (He would eventually go on to direct Frontier and Hunters, along with several episodes of the Adventure: reboot.)

So in other words, looking at this, a lot of these things that people emotionally connected to and loved about Tamers are things that literally were not his personal creation, and were largely contributed by the other writers! Of course, Konaka’s “creator thumbprint” is very obvious -- he was the head writer, after all -- and all of this had to go through his own vetting to make sure he personally liked it as well -- but nevertheless, you can see that this very much was a collaborative effort from head to toe, with him being very open about this fact himself. Insisting on making sure that this fact is well-known isn’t just a coping mechanism to try and remove his presence in the series, but rather a desire to get people to seriously stop giving him credit that really should be going to others (especially since, again, even he himself was very diligent about assigning that credit).

In the end, I’ll leave you with another thing to keep in mind: Konaka doesn’t get paid anymore for Tamers work (unless they make something new like the DigiFes thing), so continuing to buy Tamers merch and supporting the series through fanart and such will probably end up going more towards the Digimon IP as a whole. Basically, if we’re just talking about Tamers specifically, what degree this is going to matter is only really relevant to the content in the original series, which is now twenty years old and remains unchanged. By Konaka’s own admission, he wasn’t into all of these conspiracy theories until 2010 at the earliest, so while it’s understandable to be a bit wary about the themes in Tamers having traces of the base sentiment, the original series itself does not seem to be an outlet for alt-right propaganda, and it’s probably forcing it a bit much to read into it that way. Konaka’s also repeatedly insisted that all of his attempts at a Tamers sequel have been rejected and that he’s been doing increasingly strange swerves to get around members of the original cast not entirely being available, and the Japanese audience has turned out to not be very fond of the contents of the 2018 drama CD and the stage reading for reasons entirely separate from the politics, so it’s also unlikely we’ll be getting a Tamers sequel from him or something in the near future.

So -- at least for the time being -- what’s done with him is done, and the remaining question is how all of us feel about Tamers. I think everyone will have differing feelings on it, and that’s perfectly understandable. Personally, given everything I just said above, I’m going to continue treating it as a series very important to me, and one that many people (including, as it seems, a very different Konaka from twenty years ago) worked on with a lot of effort and love, although you may see me getting a bit more willing to be critical about the series and its themes thanks to my concerns about some of the sentiments in it and what they imply. I also completely understand that there are probably people whose associations are going to be much more hurt and who will have a much harder time seeing the series the same way ever again, and I think that’s reasonable as well. But at the very least, going forward, I hope all of us can understand the depth of this situation, give credit where it’s due, and not force credit where it’s not due.

[justjuiceyboy]

new beginnings

in which Happy is the readers tattoo artist

word count: 1,637

warnings: swearing 

(a/n: I’m basically becoming a blog for Happy, will get back to writing Juice soon, just got this idea and knew I had to run with it. Hope you all enjoy and if you ever want to request my asks are open! Love you all, thanks for supporting!)

———————————

7:45 p.m. The sun was setting, causing an array of colours over the buildings of Charming, lighting up the place like a movie. The air was fresh, warm as it was the middle of July. You strolled along the footpath and kicked a small rock as you walked, to calm your nerves. You had made the quick decision with your friend to get tattoos together on this day. But you were walking alone, friendless.

You were not ever going to get a tattoo alongside your ’friend’ who you had caught sleeping with your boyfriend of two years. Two years and he threw it down the drain. With your best friend nonetheless. You just packed your things as he tried to claim his innocence, even though you caught him in bed with her. You were lucky to find an apartment that day that someone was trying to get rid of. At least you had somewhere to stay, even if the entire situation wasn’t ideal.

You still decided to go through with the tattoo, wanting to use this as an opportunity for new beginnings. 

You were brought out of your daydream by the pinging of your phone, google maps telling you that you’ve reached your destination. You looked around, wide-eyed, not really knowing what to expect. But here you were, standing outside a small shop adorned with a sign stating “Mallen Tattoos”. This was the place you were looking for.

Pushing open the door, you were instantly met with the smell of cigarette smoke and disinfectant. At least they use disinfectant, you thought to yourself, trying not to show any emotion. 

You walked promptly up to the front counter and coughed to get the man's attention. He looked up at you from where he was sitting and gave you a warm smile, accompanied by “You alright Darling?” 

You were insanely put at ease by his kind demeanour and you smiled back at him, “Hi, I have an appointment for a tattoo at 8, booked it a few weeks ago?” He started flipping through a book that was on the desk and stopped, raising a brow, “says here that there’s gonna be two of you?” 

You sighed, having forgotten that obviously, your best friend was in on the booking too. You told that man that it was just you and handed over some ID, hoping he’d still allow you to be tattooed even though it was only one client. You handed over the money for the tattoo in hopes that that may persuade him further. But once again he smiled and got up from his seat, bringing you through a small hallway to a spacious room with four big leather chairs for tattooing. He gestured to one of them and you sat down.

He brought over a clipboard full of waivers for you to sign and then spoke once again. “Oh, I forgot to tell you Miss, but the artist you wanted, well, he’s sick today. Real bad infection! But anyways, we have a different guy here who gets tattooed all the time, very talented too, if you’ll take him instead?” You could tell he was nervous as to how you’d react. You’d spoken to the other artist on the phone and he’d done practice drawings of the tattoo and sent them to you so you were pretty nervous to let a new artist just take over but before you could weigh up the pros and cons you just nodded. New beginnings, right?

He let out a sigh of relief that he had been holding in and apologised for all this which made you laugh. But you stopped laughing as soon as you saw your new tattoo artist.

A tall figure entered the room, walking over to the man who had led you here. They seemed friendly with each other as they talked. Your nervousness was now back in full force as you surveyed the man who was about to ink your body. He was bald and you could see the tattoos going up his arms. He had an extensive collection which you assumed went much further than just his arms but your view was covered by the plain white T-Shirt he was wearing. He was quite scary, never creating a smile the entire time the other man was talking to him. Your tattoo artist was handed a few pages and he nodded after looking through them, finally making his way over to you who was sweating in the leather chair.

“This is Happy! He’ll take great care of you don’t worry! If you need anything you know where I am” the overly jolly man as he waved goodbye to you both and returned down the hall. Happy. The man in front of you was anything but Happy, with his scary look and overly built body. You knew he was a part of the Sons Of Anarchy biker gang.

You finally made eye contact with Happy and your nervousness increased once again. He was a good-looking man and you knew this tattoo could take some time. Being trapped in close contact with a man like this would terrify anyone. Also, he has some menacing eyes that you felt nearly bore holes into you when he looked.

“Do you know where you want it?” He questioned suddenly, you hearing his voice for the first time. Your mind instantly went to the wrong idea of what you want where and you choked out an exclamation of “what?!”

“The tattoo, where do you want it?” He stated not changing his expression. You mentally hit yourself in the face for going to the dirty side of things and once again was only barely able to speak when you said “ribs.”

He nodded and set up with the pre-made stencil as you lifted your shirt over one shoulder, half your body on display now. He focused on the task at hand and lay the stencil whilst you tried to look anywhere else but at him, knowing that he’d make your knees go weak and you’d say something stupid again. 

Once you agreed to the positioning, he began the process of the needlework. This was the first time you’d been tattooed and you didn’t know what to expect in regards to pain. The second he hit the skin, you jumped. He looked up at you and raised an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly so he continued on again. There was no small talk which you were thankful for. You were trying not to make a big deal of it but you could feel every touch, especially when he brushed off your boob whilst doing the linework.

He began filling the shape and shading and you let out a quiet ‘fuck’ and a breath. The man finally broke the silence as he stopped tattooing for a quick minute and rustled around in the pocket of his leather kutte. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and held it one out to you. Talk about a hygienic practice, but you couldn’t judge right now, anything to take your mind off the pain.

“It helps, especially first time,” he concluded, lighting the cigarette and bringing it up to your lips. You took a drag and felt more relaxed now so he continued on again, placing the cigarette in between his own lips. But this time he kept talking, probably to distract you.

“Why the tattoo?” He asked, without looking at you of course, as he was busy staring at the skin beside your breast. You decided to give in to the small talk, mainly because you wanted to see what you could find out about the man who held a needle to your ribs and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“I booked it with a friend but I found out she was sleeping with my boyfriend so I’m not really sure why I still came if I’m being honest,” you told him, not being wary that you were spilling the truth to a stranger.

“Sounds like a dick” he stated point-blank, making you laugh quietly. “Yeah, she was.”

“Meant the boyfriend. He was obviously stupid,” he mumbles, one eye flicking up to you as he pulled away again. He took the cigarette from his mouth and reached up to you again to let you have a puff. You weren’t sure if it was the air or the cigarette smoke clouding your judgment but the entire scene felt slightly erotic to you now. Hot man, feathery touched on your body and sharing a cigarette between both of your mouths. 

Happy seemed to have unwavering confidence as he watched you take a long drag as he spoke again, “You need a real man.” Now it was your turn to mumble, “beats me when I’ll find one of those.” It only took him another five or so minutes to finish on the tattoo and he then wrapped the area for you in silence.

He wrote a few things on a piece of printed paper and handed it to you, telling you it was just the care instructions and told you how to wash the area. You thanked him and he nodded again, signaling that you can go. You left the room and walked out the door of the shop, waving to the friendly man at the front desk.

The air was now brisk as you turned on your heel, ready to walk home. You were about to stuff the paper into your pocket as you noticed what he wrote at the bottom.

‘If you’re still looking for that real man, call me’

It was accompanied by his phone number and a small smiley face, which in turn made you smile. Looks like you’ll be seeing him again soon and not just for another tattoo. As you said, new beginnings, right?

[sunflowervolvimp3]

garden (koh!harry)

Warnings: language

Pairing: king of hell!Harry x angel!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: alright so!! this is an au a friend of mine and I thought of a couple years ago!! basically it’s demon!harry and angel!reader but with the added spice of harry being the king of hell!! the premise for this au is that it’ll kind of be an ongoing series/universe, like the hades!harry au!! so that means I’ll be posting a series of one shots and concepts in a non-chronological order, meaning that each one shot takes place in a different time and in a different order!! I’m really excited to write a series like this, in addition to the long stand-alone fics I do, and I really really hope you guys like it!! the last time I did a shorter one shot, it didn’t really get any feedback, and I thought longer stand-alone fics were the way to go, but I do really miss this format!! so. please. if you like it!! reblog it!! let me know you like it!! and let me know what questions you have about this au!! any concept or blurb ideas or thoughts you have!! I’m very excited for it and I hope you guys are too <3 also I originally wrote this au on my marvel blog last year, and have reworked and revamped it, so if it looks familiar, or sounds familiar, I promise I haven’t plagiarized lmao that was me!!

{masterlist}

When Y/N wakes up, the room is dark.

This, Y/N has come to realize, is normal, considering that the chambers she sleeps in have no windows. While this fact would normally have troubled her, she’s made her peace with it.  After all, what is there to see?  The palace, located in the center of hell, is surrounded by the flames of the underworld and the souls of the damned, and while neither of those things are a welcoming sight in the morning, they’re especially unwelcome for an angel such as herself.  It had taken her so long to adjust to the obsidian stone walls around her, the heavy black and red velvet drapes that lined the frame of her bed, and the smell of sulfur that lingered in the air, even after she had placed herbs and flowers to burn in the fireplace and create a sweet smoke in the air.  Truth be told, Y/N still wasn’t completely adjusted to the atmosphere around her, but this, too, doesn’t surprise her.  An angel could never truly adjust to being in hell.

A rustling in the bed next to her pulls Y/N from her thoughts, and she lets her gaze shift to the muscled body nestled in the sheets next to her.  This, she thinks, is another thing she may never get used to, even though it sparks a burning desire deep within her.  While the king of hell may have once frightened you, the sight of him lying next to her brings a feeling of comfort to her, and Y/N allows herself a moment to admire the rarely relaxed state Harry is currently in.  His curls, which are normally carefully styled beneath his crown, are tousled from sleep, falling into his face in an endearing way. His face itself is relaxed, the hard creases from the scowl that’s usually permanently etched into his features all but disappeared.  The demon is normally a fearsome thing to behold, his power at the forefront of every one of his movements, but seeing him like this…these are some of Y/N’s favourite times.

Thinking him still asleep, Y/N carefully pushes his mussed curls back from his face, her fingers tracing down the line of his jaw.  She can feel the stubble that’s unperceivable in the dark, and a soft sigh falls from her lips as she enjoys the rough sensation against her delicate fingers.

“Why are you awake, angel?” Harry’s low voice rumbles deep from his chest, raspy from lack of use.  Although his eyes remain closed, his face half pressed into his pillow, Y/N watches him adjust himself in the bed.

“I don’t know.” She whispers back, laying her head back on her own pillow, her gaze still on his body. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“S’alright.” Harry gives a small sigh, opening his eyes just barely. “I was just resting.  I’m fine.”

Yes, Y/N thinks, that’s another thing she isn’t quite used to.  While her body functions like that of a human, needing sleep every night, breathing oxygen into her lungs, a heart pumping blood through her veins…. Harry doesn’t.  It’s rare he sleeps, and even when he does, it’s never for more than a few hours.  He had explained to Y/N once how his heart beat so slowly when he was created, and how it stopped completely when he reached full maturity.  Although Y/N can see the faint blueish outlines of veins beneath his tattooed skin, she’s not exactly sure what runs through them.  Blood seems too common for a being like him.  And if he was ever to get hurt, Y/N’s quite certain that he wouldn’t bleed like she would.

The sensation of Harry beginning to play with her hair pulls Y/N from her thoughts. “Why are you awake, hm?” He keeps his voice low, his tone gentle.  He’s gotten better at speaking softly for her. “What’s troubling that pretty mind of yours, angel?”

Y/N half shrugs as best she can while laying down. “Nothing.  Just…thinking, I suppose.”

Harry quirks up an eyebrow. “Thinking?  About what?”

The words hesitate at the edge of Y/N’s mouth before spilling out. “How…I don’t really belong here.”

A deep hum echoes from Harry’s chest as his deep green eyes close again. “’F course you belong here, love. Don’t be silly.”

“I don’t belong here.” Y/N repeats the phrase insistently, her eyes glued to the way his jaw tenses as she says it. “I…I’m not from here.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t belong.” Harry counters, eyes opening once again.  They’re darker now, and Y/N can see the stubbornness swirling within them. “I’m the king.  I want you here.  That means you belong.”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip, contemplating the best way to explain herself. “I just…I miss it.” She says finally, her voice small as it slips into the space between them.

Harry’s pink lips pull down into a frown. “Miss what?”

Fingers twisting together, Y/N pauses before answering Harry’s inquiry. “Above.”

“Oh, angel…” Harry sighs again as he shifts his position, pulling her into his marked chest.  His strong hands find her back in the darkness, stroking up and down over her cotton nightgown in a soothing manner. “What’s there to miss?  Angry people rushing around all the time, destroying their own planet?  Destroying themselves along with it?  No, you’re much better off down here, with me.”

“There’s plenty to miss.” Y/N counters, pressing her ear into his chest to be greeted with the familiar sound of silence. “The smell of rain, sunshine, flowers growing, birdsongs…” She sighs as she trails off. “And I like people, you know that.  They may destroy things, but down here…you destroy things too.”

“Only things that need to be.” Harry argues, his fingers continuing his tracings across her back, barely brushing over the two ridges between her shoulder blades where her wings usually sit. “Souls that deserve punishment, or souls that sold themselves to me.  It’s part of the deal, angel.”

“I miss my garden.” Y/N’s voice is barely audible as she grazes her finger over his pentagram necklace. “My rose bushes, my sunflowers…I used to grow berries, too.  Strawberries, blueberries…I would make delicious pies and scones…”

“If you truly desire those things,” Harry murmurs slowly, carefully measuring his words. “Then I can get them for you.  I can send a demon to the surface for the fruits, and all the ingredients you would need to bake.  I’m sure anything you create would taste…” The growing smirk is practically audible in his voice. “Sweet.”

Despite the light warmth that flushes her cheeks, Y/N shakes her head against his chest. “It’s not the same.” She sighs. “I miss the breeze.  I miss the ocean.  I used to run to the edge of the surf to dip my toes in the water…and I loved going to the beach at night.  On clear nights, the moon would reflect on the water like a mirror, two glowing spheres, watching over me…”

“Are you not happy here?” Harry’s voice turns gruffer as he registers the longing in her voice. “You know why going to the surface is dangerous.  The angels—”

“Would try to take me back. I know.  And I don’t want to go back.” Y/N rubs her hand over Harry’s tensed muscles, trying to soothe him back into a relaxed position. “I just miss it. Isn’t there anything you miss? Anything that causes an ache in you, deep in your chest?” She presses her palm over his stilled heart to emphasize her words.

Harry softens at her touch, relaxing back into the sheets once more. “The only absence that could ever make me ache is yours.” He kisses the top of her head, an action so tender that Y/N almost forgets he’s a demon. “Sleep, angel.  Dwelling on these matters will only cause you pain.”

Y/N kisses his collarbones chastely, the curves fitting easily underneath her lips, before settling herself back down and closing her eyes.  Although breathing isn’t necessary for Harry, the familiar action soothes her as she listens to his breaths, the sound acting as her own personal ocean as she drifts to sleep.

…

The bed is cold when Y/N wakes up again the next morning, a sign that Harry has been long gone.  Given his strange sleep schedule, this isn’t unusual. What is unusual, however, is the carefully folded note sitting on his carefully fluffed pillow.  Y/N’s name is on the top of the note, scribbled in Harry’s messy penmanship.  Y/N rubs the sleep from her eyes as she picks up the rough paper, a shiver rolling through her as she brings it to her nose.  Although there’s the now familiar burn of sulphur initially, underneath sits Harry’s musky cologne, and the faint scent of it is enough to drive her mad.

Before she allows herself to get worked up any more, Y/N carefully unfolds the note, finding more of Harry’s writing on the inside.

Breakfast will be outside today, on the palace grounds.

Y/N frowns in confusion as she reads over the words repeatedly, trying to make sense of them. Harry knows that she hates going outside the palace walls, much preferring to spend her time inside the safety of the obsidian stone structure.  Between the anguished sounds of the damned, the burning smell of sulfur, the agonizing heat…Y/N typically avoids the depressing area.  However, Y/N has always had a natural curiosity to her, ever since she was created, and she knows that Harry is aware of that, which is why she finds herself making her way to the palace grounds as soon as she’s dressed. Although the idea of going outside leaves a pit in her stomach, she can’t help but wonder what would bring Harry to want to have breakfast outside.  And, moreover, Y/N trusts Harry.  Despite every one of her natural instincts telling her that a demon is dangerous, and the king of demons is even more so, Harry’s proven to her that he wouldn’t put her in harm’s way.

When Y/N reaches the palace doors, Harry is already waiting there, his arms clasped behind his back. He’s dressed in his usual attire of a suit, but this one is one of Y/N’s favourites.  The black fabric is trimmed with red, and a pattern of intricate red and gold stitches decorates the body of the jacket.  The pants are tailored to match, fitting his legs perfectly enough that they just brush the top of his black heeled boots.  As Y/N’s eyes trail back up, she registers his usual rings on his hands—the silver skull, the ruby, the silver band, the onyx stone—as well as notes that his fingernails have freshly been painted black.  His pentagram necklace, she knows, is carefully tucked under his shirt, hidden away between the black fabric and his tattooed chest.  There’s a slight smile on his lips as he watches her walk towards him, and a satisfied expression glimmers in his dark green eyes.  As he turns his head to the side to regard her, the gold and ruby crown that sits atop his perfectly styled curls catches the low light of the lit sconces around them.

As soon as Y/N is within his reach, Harry extends a ringed hand. “Good morning, angel.” He pulls her close to him, pressing her into his chest. “You look beautiful.”

Although enduring his compliments have become the usual, Y/N still hasn’t quite gotten used to them, and a light blush grows over her cheeks. Despite the embarrassment, Y/N’s glad that his words haven’t triggered the angelic blue light that sometimes radiates from her eyes when she feels something intensely (it had happened once a few weeks ago, and the smug look on Harry’s face had made Y/N swear to herself that she wouldn’t let it happen again). “Thank you, my king.” She holds up the note curiously, gauging the expression on his face. “What’s this?”

“I have a surprise for you.” Harry lowers his voice as he leans down to brush his lips over Y/N’s ear, speaking so only she can hear his throaty words. “And I really think you’ll love it.”

His tone of voice coupled with his breath on her ear makes Y/N shiver involuntarily. “O-okay.”

Judging by the smirk on Harry’s face, Y/N can tell that her reaction hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Come, angel.” Harry tugs lightly on Y/N’s hand as his smirk transforms itself into a more tender grin. “I have something to show you.”

Y/N’s curiosity is what allows her to allow Harry to push the front doors of the palace open and lead her outside.  As expected, the moment Y/N steps into the muggy air of hell, her discomfort starts. Each breath seems to catch in her throat, and the very air around them feels as if it’s clinging to her skin, burrowing deep into her pores to start a slow burn.  A small sound of discomfort escapes Y/N’s throat against her will, catching Harry’s attention immediately.

“You’re alright, angel.” He assures her instantly, squeezing her warm hand with his own icy fingers. “Come.”

Y/N continues to allow herself to be led by Harry, all of her steps falling slightly behind his own. After a few more minutes pass, she’s about to speak again to ask what exactly is so important for her to see, until she senses a change in the air.  The more they walk, the more the burning smell of sulphur disappears from her senses. With relief finally on the horizon, Y/N’s pace finally speed up until she falls into step with Harry, her curiosity growing stronger as her discomfort slips away.

Harry squeezes her hand again, and the simple gesture is almost an encouragement as Y/N’s steps increase again.  She begins to pull him behind her, leading the way on instinct alone.  There’s an excitement in her curiosity and confusion, and Harry can feel it emanating from her as she gets closer and closer to his surprise.  It brings a smile to his face, seeing her like this.  Seeing her alive.  Seeing her bring life to a place meant for the damned.

When Y/N finally sees the source of the sweet smelling air, she stops in her tracks, her hand moving to clutch Harry’s arm in shock as her mouth falls open.  She gasps sharply, so in awe of what’s in front of her that the lack of pain from breathing hell’s hair doesn’t even register in her mind.  Her mind has no space for it.  All that she can think about is Harry behind her and the garden before her.

This is her surprise. A garden.  A real, living, almost seemingly breathing, garden.  At least, Y/N thinks it’s a garden.  The dry earth beneath her spreads into scorched grass that fades into a delightful green hue, so vibrant that Y/N almost thinks that each blade has been painted with the colour.  At the edge of the grass is a large hedge, at least three times as tall as Y/N and double as long.  The darker green leaves that make up the wall of nature are dotted with wildflowers, adding pops of white and yellow every few inches.  In the very center of the hedge is a large wooden door, built out of dark, sturdy wood studded with shining iron bolts.  Although there’s a large wrought-iron knocker in the center of the wood, there’s no handle, and fear of not being able to see inside the magnificent structure seizes Y/N’s body as she turns to look at Harry with questioning and concerned eyes.

Harry seems to read the question in Y/N’s eyes, and the demon steps forward in response. “Here.” He says, taking Y/N’s hand from his arm and pressing it to the door, his own hand cupped over hers protectively.  There’s a cadence to his voice that Y/N’s never heard before, and it takes her a moment to register it as excitement as he continues speaking. “It only opens to your touch.”

Y/N feels a shudder underneath her hand, almost as if the wood has registered that the palm pressed against it is her own.  The force keeping it closed suddenly fades away, and Y/N easily pushes the large door open to reveal the garden inside.  

The crisp and clear scent of fresh air hits Y/N first, almost bowling her over completely.  For the first time in a long time, she’s able to inhale deeply and freely, not worrying about what the air around her may do to her body.  The high hedge wall, along with the trees that create a canopy over the whole garden, seem to act like a barrier, blocking out the smells and sounds of hell. Y/N can smell various flowers and plants all around her, as well as the wonderfully earthy scent of dirt, and as she gazed around the natural enclosure, all she can hear is—

“Birds!” Y/N gasps in amazement as a small mockingbird lands on a tree branch, chirping happily.  Without tearing her gaze away from the small creature, she poses half a question to Harry. “How—?”

Harry, still standing at the edge of the garden after closing the door behind them, knows her question before she even finishes. “I created it for you last night.” He says simply, his green irises glued to her every movement. “After our discussion.”

Y/N turns in a slow circle as she does her best to take in every detail around her.  Birds, she realizes, aren’t the only creatures inside the haven; butterflies fly through the air, moving leisurely from flower to flower, and the chittering of squirrels scrambling up and down the trees mixed with the sounds of all the birds hidden in the leaves.  A rustling in the bushes catches Y/N’s attention, and she manages to catch a glimpse of the cotton tail of a bunny before it hides under the foliage. A small frown tugs on the corner of her lips as she wonders why the bunnies are hiding away—heavenly beings are usually beloved by any living creatures—but like before, Harry guesses her question before she can ask it.

“They, uh, they don’t like me.” He clears his throat halfway through his sentence, his eyes gauging her reaction to his words. “Living creatures aren’t very fond of demons.  Unlike your kind, we don’t smell like sunshine and cotton candy.”

Despite her delight in his gift, Y/N can’t help but roll her eyes a bit at his gentle ribbing. “I don’t smell like sunshine and cotton candy.” She says, reaching out a delicate finger to a butterfly floating near her.  The tiny creature lands on her finger easily, without hesitation, and Y/N notices how Harry doesn’t receive the same treatment from the other butterflies in the air.  In fact, now that she’s paying attention, she quickly realizes that every living being in the garden around them is steering clear of the king.  She can’t quite blame them, she thinks, her eyes flickering over Harry’s closed off posture, dark appearance, and powerful aura.  Everything about him radiates the energy of someone who is dangerous.  And yet, Y/N’s never felt safer in hell than she does in this moment.

At the thought of safety, a new fear crosses her mind “Are they safe here?” Y/N asks in a hushed voice. “The animals?  I don’t want them to get hurt, or…”

“This garden is its own ecosystem.” Harry finally makes his way away from the garden edge, taking Y/N’s hand in a reassuring manner.  The butterfly on her finger flutters away as he gets closer, but Y/N’s attention is once again focused on the feeling of Harry’s cool fingers on her flushed skin. “As long as they stay in here, they’re safe.  I swear it.” Harry says, sincerity clear in his voice.

Y/N’s heart pounds beneath her chest, every once of her senses alight as they bask in the fresh air around her. “Oh, Harry…” Her eyes widen again as she begins to catalogue all the varieties of plants growing around her.  Not only were there flowers galore—fragrant roses of all colours, sunflowers taller than her, fragrant lilies, vibrant tulips, bright daffodils—all of her favourites, she notes—but past a grove of trees is— “Are those berries?”

The dimples that Y/N so rarely sees in Harry’s cheeks appear as he smiles at her excitement. “Yes.” He leads her over, his own excitement growing with every step.  Y/N notices how he walks with care, making sure not to step on any flora with his heeled boots.  It’s strange, seeing the king of hell being so cautious, but she appreciates it nonetheless.

Harry points to the various bushes around them with a painted finger, naming them as he goes. “Strawberries, blueberries…everything you’ve missed.  There’s room for you to plant more, as well.  If you’d like.” He glances at her for a moment, an unreadable look in his deep green eyes before he turns back to the plants. “And I set up a few stone benches throughout the garden, so you can come sit here when you need a break.  There’s one under the willow tree, one by the rose bushes, and one by the—”

“The water.” Y/N whispers, voice barely audible.  If Harry was human, he wouldn’t be able to hear the quiet gasp leave her lips. “Harry…”

When Y/N’s hand slowly slips out of Harry’s to walk to the water feature at the edge of the garden, she feels as though she’s in a trance.  Perhaps it’s the water itself, she thinks, calling out to her to soak her hell-scorched skin within its cooling depths.  Somehow, Harry had managed to make a small waterfall flow down from the top of the hedge into a crystal clear pool, which babbled delightfully with the motion.  Although the pool isn’t large, it’s certainly big enough to swim in, and just the very thought of slipping into the water brings a feeling of relief to Y/N.  Peering over the edge, she can see a few fish swimming around in the crystal clear water, and a new feeling of gratefulness mixes with the previous.

So entranced in the small pond, Y/N doesn’t even realize that Harry has followed behind her, keeping his distance by a few feet so she can admire the water. “Do you like it?” He asks, the excitement in his voice seeping out in exchange for a nervous and unsure tone. “It’s not…done yet.  I just did it quickly, so it—I can still add more, or take out things you don’t like, or—”

“Harry.” Y/N turns to face him with tears in her eyes, a small shake of her head being the only action she’s capable of. “This is…wonderful.  I don’t know how to thank you…”

Harry’s own eyes grow softer as he notices the tears welled in Y/N’s lash line, reflecting the light that seems to emanate from her eyes. “You don’t need to thank me.” He keeps his voice low, as if he’s worried speaking loudly will break whatever it is that’s growing between them. “I…I want you to be happy here.  I want you to feel like…this is your home.”

“I do.” Y/N promises sincerely, taking both of his hands in hers as she speaks.  She kisses his knuckles, her warm lips a contrast against the cold metal and stones of his rings. “Thank you.  I truly mean it.  Thank you.”

A new look passes through Harry’s eyes, more unreadable than anything Y/N’s ever seen before.  His pink lips are just as much a mystery, no expression available on them as he pulls a hand from her grasp in order to cup her cheek.  Despite the callouses on his fingers, and the cool temperature of his skin, Y/N leans into his touch, pressing her cheek into his palm.

“You’re welcome.” Harry’s thumb brushes over Y/N’s cheek bone, and the motion is so delicate and tender that Y/N isn’t quite sure what to make of it. “You’re…you’re so very welcome.”

Although he’s giving a polite response to her thanks, Y/N can’t help but feel like something deeper sits underneath the simple phrase as Harry repeats it.  She’s welcome.  So very welcome.  But welcome where?  In this garden?  Into his life?  Into him? The very thought of a double meaning causes her heart to pound, and by the flicker in Harry’s eyes, she knows he can hear it.

The questions bubble to her lips, but catch themselves on the tip of her tongue as her eyes detect a movement in the corner of gaze.  The breeze around them (Y/N isn’t sure where the breeze is coming from, but she’s grateful for it nonetheless) move something she hadn’t noticed before.  All questions about Harry’s intention fade away as her eyes focus on the sturdy branch of an oak tree, and the carefully woven ropes and wooden seat that hang from it.  She drops his hands, stepping out of his grasp and towards the object of her attention. “Is that—is that a swing?”

A light chuckle rolls from Harry’s lips at the awe in her voice. “Yes.” He says, his amusement clear in the word. “Would you like me to push you?”

The offer is so casual, and yet, it brings a sudden shyness to Y/N’s reply. “Only if the king would like to.”

Harry bows his head, his crown sparkling atop his brown curls as he extends a hand. “It would be my honour, angel.”

Y/N matches his smile as she takes his hand once again.

[simlicious]

Check in Tag

 I was tagged by the wonderful @ktarsims, thank you 💜

Why did you choose your URL?

It’s really just my creator name, nothing fancy. I wanted people to be able to easily find me and recognize my url. If you are wondering why I chose Simlicious as a name, I thought it was kinda cool at the time and I wanted something with the word “Sim” in it. Nowadays I think I could have been a bit more original.

How long have you been on tumblr?

Since February 2012. I just realized I missed my 10-year tumblr anniversary. I am really bad with dates and anniversaries in general though, so this is no surprise 😅

Do you have a queue tag?

Nope, I seldomly queue stuff anyway.

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I was active in German Sims forums at the time and wasn’t really happy with only being in a “local” community. I wanted to spread my wings and also reach a wider audience, since I like creating for the sims games and communicating in English. I immediately liked the kind, open-minded simblr community, so I stuck around!

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

Because I was too lazy to do anything else? Idk. I never had anything else and at this point, I wouldn’t know what else to put there anyway. It is not my simself, but just one of my models, put through a few artsy filters. Since my icon is purple, I feel like purple has become  my “simblr brand color”. I have grown fond of the purple hearts 💜 and I feel like they are my thing now. Purple is not my favorite color though, that would be Turquoise.

Why did you choose your header?

I am not sure this is considered a header per se, but the background behind the my tumblr icon is the same background I chose for my website and my tumblr blog background (though I colored it differently there). It looks like fancy 3D paper cutouts and I still love it after all these years. Maybe one of the reasons I never update my tumblr theme (though it is overdue!).

What’s your post with the most notes?

That would be this post of my Ugg Boots with 1206 notes, which I initially made as a Secret Santa gift. This might be my most popular creation ever, and I’m still proud of how well it turned out! I am just not proud that I chose the busy and dark group pic as the first pic in that post. I really tried to set a scene there and everything, but I like the minimalist approach with a clean background much better.

How many mutuals do you have?

I counted 94, but I am pretty sure I miscounted due to going “OMG WHAT, THAT person is a mutual?” like 50 times. I have really cool mutuals.

How many followers do you have?

3564, as of now!

How many people do you follow?

244 (I think this is considered a low number, and I still cannot keep up with my dash at all)

Have you ever made a shitpost?

Not really, no. I wrote somewhat angry posts, most of which I did not actually post (they are more like a diary at this point), most had to do with some simblr drama and opinions. But in general, I try to write in a cool and composed manner, even when the subject matter is heated. I feel like much more can be achieved by being polite, exploring stuff from different angles and outlining the facts than by screaming ugly things at the world.

How often do you use tumblr every day?

I open tumblr at least once every day, it is a reflex at this point, but I do not always actually look at stuff or interact. That depends on my mood and my mindset. Sometimes I spend hours commenting, posting, liking, and on some days I barely do anything.

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

I don’t think so! I do not like stirring up trouble. I remember I was once very close to being the target of a shitstorm, because I accidentally made another sims creator look bad and their protective followers were writing angry messages to me. I immediately apologized to the creator and changed my post and that was it!

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

I am unaffected by it. These posts remind me of chainmail, and I do not engage in those, nor in “you are a bad person if you do not reblog this, I will unfollow you if you do not reblog this”. Not reblogging does not mean that I do not agree with the contents of the post or do not care about it, it just means I do not want to clutter my blog, since I am very specific with the stuff I reblog.

Do you like tag games?

Depends on my mood and the specific questions asked but yeah, they are generally fun! I just do not like tagging other people (I do not want anyone to feel pressured, despite not feeling pressured by being tagged myself), so I usually tag anyone who wants to do them.

Do you like ask memes?

I think I’ve never done one before, most of them have to do with stories and characters, which I do not really have as a pure CC creator.

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

Several were or are widely known in the community, most of them moved on to ts4 now and I feel honored to still be on their list! I treasure my mutuals a lot, famous or not! I feel like by dropping names, some people always feel left out, so I’m not going to do that here.

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

If by crush you mean in awe of their talents, then I guess so 🤩 (again, not dropping names) I tag everyone who wants to answer these questions :)

[whumptimebaby]

Writing Practice??

Y'know, there aren't very many writing drills that I do, but if I'm bored I will do random writing practice, and today I stood in a lot of lines, sooo

I thought I'd share! Even though this little blurb doesn't have anything to do with any of my wips, it is still part of my process, and it's my blog I'm gonna subject you to the bits of narration I wrote today 👺

It's unfinished, unedited, boring, mediocre, and authentic! I think that's something that is important to share. I'm not like, a big-shot author by any means, but I know there are people who like what I create, and get inspired to create from reading my fics (and that means everything to me, it makes me really emotional just to think about 🥲), and I think it's important when you're in a position like that to show the mediocre, the unpolished, the things that you aren't proud of, because in all honesty, most of what I write is absolute unusable garbage! And that's okay!

Anyways, the writing is below the cut!

After feebly (read unsuccessfully) trying to figure out if Hellevator had different ride cycles, they took to using their phone timer. The only thing that *could* be different was the time the ride waited before launching up, and the time that the ride waited before dropping.

It was a good pastime while they cooled off, and waited for the tiny nibblings of food they'd consumed to settle before catching another ride. They wanted to hit the new one at some point, and maybe (finally) catch a ride on the drop tower in question, but for now, to ease their drop tower anxiety, they would time it.

Operations were slow, and time between cycles was long, so they found themselves waiting a significant amount of time.

All things considered though, the park wasn't too busy. Definitely nowhere to sit, but that didn't matter too much.

For the second time in a row, the ride dropped after eleven seconds. They would wait one more time though, just to make sure.

If the log flume was open, the cooling off thing would have been a lot easier, and a lot quicker. Just grab a ride and you're soaked, but it hadn't opened for the season yet.

They thought about the other rides they wanted to hit. Kettle Creek Mine Ride was the only coaster worth riding (that was open anyway), and it definitely wasn't something they wanted to miss.

That made their current list Hellevator, Kettle Creek Mine Ride, and the new flat ride they'd added this year.

The new ride stuck out like a soar thumb, sleek and colourful in a park full of old charm. That didn't matter too much though. It looked like a cool ride. Each car fit a single rider, and after watching it cycle a few times earlier in the day, it looked pretty intense. The bright purple, orange, and pink gave it a mystical, almost fire-like glow in the beating sun.

Another cycle of Hellevator, another elevens seconds, and they knew all that they needed to. They were still gonna put it off, but that was a later issue. For now, they were gonna check if that new ride was open.

It wasn't. They'd have to check back in later.

So they rode SBF Visa Figure Eight coaster, which had much more kick than anything by SBF Visa should. It was themed to ladybugs, and they wondered who's idea it was to theme hell itself to something as innocent as a cute insect.

Intense was not the right word for the coaster. It wasn't intense, it was uncomfortable. For a 2018 addition, it had no right to be as rough as it was, nor did a ride without over the shoulder restraints have the right to have a head banging problem.

After leaving the satan-spawned hunk of metal behind, they passed Hellevator again (no they didn't, they just chickened out of riding it... again), and got in line for Kettle Creek Mine Ride. A backseat ride was about the closest thing to a solid coaster experience as they were getting.

Just to their right stood the glorious, beautiful, wild wooden coaster. She was gorgeous, and easily the best attraction at the tiny amusement park. Maybe the best in all of of western Canada.

But it wasn't operating that day, so they were stuck with the tiny mine train. The line of which moved at a snail's pace.

That's what happened when coasters only run one train. The only redeeming factor was the single position lap bars, allowing for some killer ejector if you got lucky enough to sit in the back.

To make matters even more irritating, the group behind them knew absolutely nothing of what they were talking about.

They tried to be patient with people who didn't know better, they really did. The three guys behind them were intimidated by rides meant to look intimidating. Where was the harm in that?

It still got under their skin though. Maybe it was the heat, the sun laid a thick sheet of warmth on the back of their neck like an unwanted breath, that was probably the real reason they were annoyed. Alas, the guys blabbered on about how The Beast was a ride to be feared, when it was arguably less intense than the coaster they were in line for.

Luckily for them, being a single rider not only cut their time in line short, but also landed them their favourite seat. Maybe being at a park full of people who aren't enthusiasts was a good thing. Listening to people calling a flat ride a coaster? Annoying sure, but in the grand scheme, sitting in the back was well worth it.

With a whole one of their goal rides behind them, they were a little discouraged. Hellevator wasn't getting less nerve-wracking, and the new ride, newly discovered to be named Sky-something-or-other, still wasn't operating.

They took a seat near the restaurant, in the shade, but also in a spot where they couldn't see either attraction. They were starting to doubt they were ever gonna get to Hellevator. Maybe it was just a ride that they needed a friend for. Maybe that wasn't something to be ashamed of.

It wasn't a safety issue. They knew everything about the intimin drop tower that stood before them. It was the anticipation that killed them.

Sitting, waiting for the ride to launch up, and then sitting, waiting for the ride to drop.

If there was none of that, they'd be fine! Somewhere not so far back in their mind, they understood that it wasn't all that different from a lift hill.

Except on a lift hill, you know exactly how much further you have to go before you drop. Even knowing the amount of time it took to launch on Hellevator, they couldn't count reliably enough to eradicate the "oh my god, when's it gonna drop?" thorn in their brain.

They would come back another time, and ride Hellevator with a hype man. Yeah. That would work. A hype man who could count to eleven consistently.

With that, they were left to rerides, or maybe food? They were finally starting to cool down enough to actually feel hungry.

And in all honesty, with the new ride still not operating and the wooden coaster down for maintenance, they didn't really have much interest in rerides anyway. Maybe it was time to wrap it up? Grab some mini donuts and call their ride?

Their ride was still an hour away, go figure.

They watched The Beast cycle. The line was significantly longer than the twenty minute wait they'd been in earlier in the day. If they had one piece of advice for people coming to this park for the first time, it would be to hit The Beast first, because no matter how long the line is at opening, it would triple by the end of the day.

The Beast was easily the best flat ride at the park, no questions asked. It was worth a ride, just maybe not a two hour wait to get on.

It was a pendulum ride, one of their favourite models. They never understood what made pendulum rides scary to the general public, even back when they weren't an enthusiast. To them, it was barely different from a big swing. The sensation of the air hitting their face, the slight floater airtime when you reach the highest point, it just wasn't a particularly rough or fast ride.