#if i was 'doing it for myself' i'd keep it in a journal under my bed

[zmediaoutlet]

happy wincest wednesday!! what are your 5 least popular wincest fics on ao3 and why do you think that is?

happy wincest wednesday to you, and what an interesting question! I have 129 fics actually tagged with the Sam/Dean relationship, so we won't count any of the heavy gencest or whatever. I guess it depends on whether you say least-kudoed or least-hits, which probably has overlap -- let's see --

Least kudos:

#129: WW: October 2023 (46 kudos) #128: the outsider (66 kudos) #127: WW: Letters (68 kudos) #126: Z's kinktober fills (70 kudos) #125: crimes (75 kudos)

Least hits is similar:

#129: WW: October 2023 (442 hits) #128: WW: Letters (474 hits) #127: whatever we were before (619 hits) #126: feels like rain (707 hits) #125: wisely & slow (883 hits)

So -- the WW ones are recent, and I guess we can give them a pass on that. It's also true that the kind of wincest I write does not currently seem to be popular or interesting to the larger part of the wincest fandom that seems to be active, and wincest fandom as a whole is a LOT smaller than it used to be. Which makes sense -- the property's been shelved and it's just going to be us diehards that stick around. (Plus the noobs who appear and watch the whole thing, and then have to go through the same emotional journeys we already did, lol.) That along with how most people prefer to engage with fic, i.e. they prefer not to engage with it, makes sense to me.

For the ones that are less recent but still not popular -- they're all pretty short and pretty non-explicit. Fandom clicks on fucking before they'll click on aaaanything else, regardless of high-minded meta and characterization talk, so if something's just like T rated it's gonna languish in obscurity. I'm a little bummed that the outsider and crimes are ignored out of the A Perfect Circle series, because I really like them as a twofer -- Sam and Dean struggling on either end of s8 is compelling to me, though they're both shorties and no one's dick is out, so. Similarly I prefer not to write first time despite it being by FAR the most popular type of fic, so gentle little established relationship married ficlets really get lost by the wayside in favor of some teen butterfly tummies. A bummer but what can you do. Shrug emoji.

So -- not a surprise! But also not something that's going to change what I like to write. I'll just be depressed about it and try to trudge on regardless, lol.

[humbleanger]

.

[fuzzythoughtsblog]

I had a fantasy that I went to a best friends sleep over and ended up reading her older sister's diary :

Truth or dare

My friend says to me. I look in her eyes and I know I can't choose truth. She'll will come up with the most vile secert to get out of me.

"Dare !" I spit out in fear

"I dare you to sneak in to my sisters room read her diary and report back. " she says with a smirk.

Fuck me I tell her that , she's so childish. And that were on break from college.

"To bad, you pick dare or are you pussy? " she retorts saying the one thing that would convince me to go.

I'm not scared of her sister. She's only a 6'7 grunge base player who is 3 years older. What there to be scared of? It's not like whenever I'm here she rolls her eyes and slams the door. It's not like she refuses to eat dinner with us. Yeah and she wasn't to scary when she yelled at us after sneaking out to a slutty Halloween party. Fuck she hates me and I'm about to sneak into her room.

I decided to just swallow my fear and go for it besides she's not even home she has a gig.

I creep to the basement where her room is. Slowly the fear begins to still as before I enter her room I see the walls covered in electric guitars. Every color and style I could imagine. I stop to admire all the other equipment she has records, picks, amps and even some Cassettes.

I let out a breathe of relief as open the door to her room and she isn't there. Now all I got to find is that damn book.

I first go to her night stand and begin to peer in. I taking a moment to process what I'm looking a, Lacy lingerie. Upon realizing its contents I quickly shut the drawer. Embarrassed I move on desperate to get this night over with. I look at the bottom drawer and am left starring. Toys so many toys in different shapes and sizes. But what left me shocked wasn't just the various toys. I mean were both adults.

It was the was the paddle. Wooden and bigger that my hand I wondered why she would have something like this. With stupid curiousity I lift it up to examine it. The paddle was in perfect condition, like it had never been used. The thing has hearts cut into it and says in big black bold letters "Scream". I begin to put it back but as I do to other items that it was hiding catch my eye. A pair of metal hand cuffs and a strap harness. I can't help but imagine who she's been using these on. At that thought I quickly put the items back in and close drawer.

If she doesn't hate me, she'll definitely hate me now. I went through her stuff and I hadn't even found the book. I sigh before moving over to the other night stand and open the drawer. This time though jackpot the book was sitting in plain sight. As I pick up the black leather book I curse myself for not looking through this one first.

For a second I hesitate, this is total over step of her boundaries. Besides I could just go back and lie that I read it. I decided that a good idea but as I'm about to put the book back I think about how I could figure out why she hates me. I ponder for a moment but I got to know what I did. I open the book.

It turns out the book is less of a diary and more of a shadow journal. I begin to flip until I find a page about me. The prompt reads " What is your toxic or most obsessive desire? "

Slowly I take in what she writes. "If I had a second alone with my sisters best friend I think I'd devour her. " my eyes stretch wide as I keep reading. "The things I want to do to her body are just ... I want to see her begging and crying under me. I want to punish her for being so damn tempting with those little skirts and short shorts."

I bite my lip but flip through more pages until I see something that mentions me. The prompt "What is a bad financial decisions you've made recently? " I can't help but lean closer while reading. " I was checking in on one of the local sex shops I frequent when I saw a cute little paddle. I couldn't help myself not when I imagine her below me pleading. I imagined pulling her hair and telling her to shut up and asking if she was a good girl. She said "yes daddy" and fuck did that just scratch the right itch in my brain. I told her then she needs to take her punishment like a good girl. Before laying down on her ass while she screamed and cried. Of course I gave my pretty girl kisses after I bit her ass. I have to remind her who she belongs to. And now I want to buy her a collar. "

I'm horrified by what I just read but I couldn't put the book down. I continued on. "What is the most fucked up fantasy you've had recently? " "I imagine her coming to my house and asking for my sister like always but this time I walk her to my sisters room even though she's not home. I lock the door behind her and get really close while she backs up. She looks so cute and she's wearing that tight purple dress she wears. I grab her and begin to kiss her while she pushes me away. I bite her lip and she crys into my mouth while I shove my tongue down her throat. She fights me as I throws her on the bed. But I'm stronger and able to hold her down. She begins to cry as I rip off that stupid fucking dress and kiss down her neck to her perfect tits.

I then slide my hand down to her pretty panties and rub her clit through the lace. She makes a noise and trys to squirm away which cause me to hit her. I tell her to be a good girl and this will all be over soon. She fucking whimpers but stops struggling. I continue to play with her cute clit till she soaks her panties. I whisper "see you want this." Before ripping her panties off of her. And sink a finger in. She's so fucking wet. I slide another finger in and then another. Till I'm three fingers deep. She makes the most beautiful noises while I take her apart on my hand. The more I take her the more wet and docile she becomes. I fuck her like this until she's dripping down her leg and begging me to stop. She pleads so cutely I can't help it. I pull down my pants revealing my biggest strap. Pushing it in while she just lies their limp like a perfect toy. I slam in and out of her taking both her virginities on her best friends bed. By the time I cum she's quivering and her cunt is unrecognizable. I take a picture and drag her to my room leaving her juices on my sisters bed. So the most fucked up fantasy I've ever had is raping my sister's best friend on her bed for hours and its reoccurring. I'd never do it of course I want her to enjoy and consent to it I'm not a monster it's just a fun fantasy. "

I begin to rub my legs together at that last one. I put the book back having had my fill when I see her sister standing right there in the door way causing me to scream.

She looks pissed and close the door and locks it behind her.

"How much did you read? "

"Nothing" I shout frozen to where I stand.

"Bullshit" she says stalking closer

"Just the crush thing and it's okay!" I say as she gets even closer.

"Lier"

"Okay I read the thing about the paddle but that's it!" I wince

She grabs my shoulders and looks at me. A chill run down my back. I flinch.

Squeaking out a "Please, don't!"

She sighs and let's go of me before sitting on the bed.

"You read the fantasy? "

I nodded slowly.

"The rape one. "

I nodded again

She sighs "Fuck, this is not how I wanted you find out! Actually I was hoping you'd never find out! "

She puts her hands on her head.

"Sit down, I'm not going to actually do any of that to you. "

I sit beside her. While she remains still before taking a deep breath in.

"So you read it, why? "

I meekly say "A dare"

"Fuck! It was my sister wasn't it? I'll kill her. "

I stay quite she knows the answer.

She sighs "So what do you want to ask me? And then I'm gonna ask you some questions, okay.

I nod.

" How long?" I ask

She breathes "Since your freshman year, of course I wasn't going to act on it. It's just, I thought I thought of you like another little sister and then I started watching out for you. Which turned into watching you and before I knew it I couldn't look away. "

"Is that why your we're mad at us on Halloween that one year ? "

"Are you kidding me? You were basically wearing lingerie. I mean a skimpy pink bunny suit, I know you were a senior but still what if someone tried something? And on top of all that you guys snuck out! You know I had to hide that from mom and dad so you could stick around. "

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, you looked... amazing. Look I don't just like you because of your body, I mean don't get me wrong it's a plus but I also love your laugh. How your the first one to try to help. Even when my sister started doing her project last minute you where there to help. I love the way you melt around animals and your stupid dance. I like you okay. Not just what you have to offer." She says while looking up at me and holding my check.

We're so close. I lean in to close the gap but she pulls away.

"Don't do that, don't give me a pitty kiss! "

I lean forward "I'm not, I just want to try this. "

Our lips finally connect and its like electricity I feel it from my head to the tips of my toes. I shiver we break apart to breathe then begin again. It feels amazing, but not close enough. I crawl closer until I'm sitting on her lap and kiss her while wrapping my arms around her neck. The kiss begins to get more and more dangerous as we go on. Her hand begin to wonder and grip. While I rock into her lap. Soon she breaks the kiss.

"Hey, I don't know if I'm getting mix signals but can I touch you? " she says with her pretty eyes.

I pause for a minute then get a sly idea "Yes, daddy! " I whisper into her ear.

"Fuck " she says before pressing me down to where my back touches her bed. "Who knew you'd be such a damn brat. " she says while kiss down on my neck

I whine as she bites my shoulder. "What's the matter ? You've never been touched like this? "

She lowers her hand down my skirt and begins to rub while I stutter "No, then again no ones touched me. "

She pause "What?"

"You guessed right. "

"Are you sure you want to do this because we don't have to. I can... " I quiet her

"I'm sure , I trust you. In fact I want you to do to me what you wrote about in your little book. Y'know the thing with the paddle. "

"Are you sure that's a little advanced. "

"I'm sure, do you not want to? "

"No I want to, fuck I want to" she says while reaching into the night stand.

"Good, how do you want me, daddy? "

"Fuck your going to be the death of me. Across my lap baby. "

I lay across her lap. And give a wiggle.

"Let's see, how many spanks? Maybe 4 spanks for your 4 years of teasing. Plus 3 for the 3 pages you read. Plus 5 for that slutty fucking costume that had me salivating for weeks. So 12.“

I whine

"Don't whine or I'll make it 15."

I stop.

" That's a good girl. " she says while ruffling my hair.

"Now we're going to use the stop light system, along with a safeword. Do you know how the stop light systems work and have a safeword in mind?"

"Yeah my safeword is rock. And the stop light systems works like red means stop, yellow slow down or change what your doing and green means keep going. "

"Correct, now I'm not going to be upset or disappointed if you safeword or want to stop okay. "

"Okay."

"Good now, count. "

The first hit stings

"One"

The second one burns

"Two"

The third positively aches

"Three"

The rest hurt but for some reason it leaves me feeling dizzy and so good.

"Twelve"

"Good girl are you, okay? "

"Yes."

"Okay how are you, are you okay to continue? "

I nod

"No girl I need a verbal answer what's your color? "

"Green, don't stop I want you to fuck me"

"Fuck, okay baby. " she says before digging in her drawer and strapping into her strap.

I flip around and spread my legs out and put my arms up.

"Wait babygirl, I have to make sure your prepped. " she says as she dips a cloused finger in while I whine

"Fuck baby your soaked. Did my girl like spankings that much? "

I nod

"Poor girls all layed out like a pretty little toy. "

I begin to moan as she adds another finger and begins pumping them in and out with her thumb on my clit. Then she goes fast and pumps in and out harder.

"I know baby it's so much, my fingers are so much for you. " she says while working me harder and harder until fuck... She stops.

"Not yet sweet heart, your gonna cum undone on my cock pretty girl. " she says as she pushes in slowly so slowly.

After bottoming out she waits a minute and I nod. After I nod she thrusts shallow slow thrusts. That feel amazing but leaves me wanting.

After a few minutes of that I grab her shoulders "Daddy, harder!"

"Fuck." She says while rolling her hips.

She lifts my legs up higher to my confusion before slamming in hard. The thrust again and again while I just take it letting her use my body.

"There you go baby. Sorry daddy though you wanted to fucked like a princess. I forgot how much of a slut you are. " she says while still pounding into me

And then she begins to rub my clit. It's so fuck much. Fuck I begin to cry and whine.

"That's it babygirl, cry on daddy's fucking dick" she begins rubbing my clit harder causing me to scream.

"Daddy, I don't want to get pregnant yet. " I say through dazzy tears

"Aww " she says while rubbing and thrust like she was trying to milk more nosies out of me "Don't worry baby you'll look so nice with my kids. "

I feel my body shake and arch and then everything thing goes limp. And my vision goes white. I hear a soft buzzing and for that moment I have no fucking idea what my name is.

"Comeback to me baby" she says my head barley follows her eyes

"Was it good? "

I nod

"Good." She says as she pulls out while I hiss. "It's okay. "

She then lays down beside me and holds me while I begin to come back down.

"You back? "

"Yeah" I say voice horsed

"Okay we'll put cream on you and clean you up later. Okay. "

I nod and cuddle closer

"Okay and baby you can not tell my sister yet. "

[justin-chapmanswers]

Sorry if this is a bit rude, but how do you consider yourself as he/they or they/he? I am questioning my sexuality and gender at the moment and seeing you (idk if ur lgbt) makes me find comfort, if you can, how did you realise you were not straight and how I can find mine! :3

Oh golly uh. Let's see if I can keep this short and then bury it under other answers. <3

Labels are fun cause they're so funky and ever-changing as you learn more about yourself. So, firstly, don't stress about finding something so perfect right away and bounding yourself to it. You're still you, any way you word it.

Gender-wise I'm in a state of def preferring they but being chill enough with he. Like whateverrrrr. It's hard to get around societal norms and perceptions, so my expectations are calibrated accordingly. I of course feel that for people who feel more strongly about a specific label, it's important to fight for it to be recognized whenever you're in a safe-enough environment to do-so. But for me, the concept of pushing for a specific label or, even more-so, of seeing other people pushing others to use a specific label for me is veryyyy anxiety-inducing. I tend to avoid spotlight when possible. But at the same time, a lot of it just comes down to not wanting to be grouped/perceived gender-ly at all. I tend to use the label agender. But I'm sure a lot of people have similar experiences with different labels. I just, ya'know, wanna be me.

Gender exploration is funnnn. There's no one right way to learning about yourself. Some people know from a young age, almost inherently, some people figure things out a lot later. It's never too late. Some people learn with outfits and styles, some with looking to people/characters who they want to be perceived more-like, some with experimenting through new names/pronouns and feeling-out how being called different things makes them feel. If you have friends you feel safe around with all of this, on or offline, can't hurt to say "hey would ya mind calling me x-name or y-pronoun for a bit?" And if you don't like it, you don't need to stick with it. But really be cognizant of it feels right to you.

Then on the romantic orientation side, that's been a much longer journey haha. I was calling myself straight through middle schooler, bi for a bit in early high school, gay starting in later high school, then for a long while. Nowadays I just say queer. Labels make things easier, until they don’t haha. For me, if you imagine a scale of feminity to masculinity with like little pegs running down the line from 0 to 10, with 5 in the middle, I tend to find myself attracted to people in like the 4 to 8 range? Something like that. But even that's not perfectly consistent! There's never going to be a perfect word for everything. That's why I like queer as an umbrella term. It's also just a cute word, I don't make the rules.

Hence earlier when I mentioned that you should just feel free to keep it open and not close yourself off. Maybe nothing'll change, but what if something does? But of course, I assume you're asking from more of a place of just starting this journey. I'm trying to get my mind back to where I started with that. I think the first time the not-straight realization hit was when a friend of mine didn't show up to an event and I was all like "why am I so miserably sad that he wasn't there?" And then a lightbulb appeared over my head and out-loud I said "aw damnit." And then things have been weird and confusing ever since.

But in terms of giving advice, it's hard to not just be like "uhh idk just hang out with people that makes you feel gooey." But obviously it's more complicated than that. A decade ago, I was taking random "am I gay" tests online. But they're kinda silly cause the questions on those would ask me to fill in information about how I feel, but how am you supposed to know how I feel without the test telling me how I feel??????? So realistically, I'd advise private journaling. Just take some time, even five minutes. Start now. Write out who you are drawn to, in any sense, and how they make you feel. Especially if you're like me and have trouble self-reflecting unless I force myself to. Like. In a Tumblr post.

There's so many ways to explore. It's also nice to look at relationships in life and media and seeing if you connect to any relationship or long to fit into someone's place within a relationship. That's why representation matters, baybeeeee! But also, ya'know, talking to people goes a long way to learning about yourself. Trial 'n error let's gooooo.

And above all: you got this.

[yeoldenews]

I don't know how much you think about it, but you wrote a post back in Mar 2020:

"A sincere request from someone who has spent her entire adult life wishing people had kept better records…In the coming weeks and months… RECORD WHAT IS HAPPENING."

That post got me to start properly journaling properly, after trying and failing when I was younger. A majority of it is 'just' day-to-day progress updates on my fiction writing, but there's a bit of stuff about my life, and some briefer stuff about the world beyond. Not a lot, but some. Four (and change) years, and my journal is just short of 186K words.

I remembered your post, seeing today's SCOTUS decisions. I remembered your post, and I remembered a line you'd written: "Are you scared to death? Write it down."

I just...I don't know. I just wanted you to know your post made an impact, and I don't know what the fuck is coming over the next week and month and year and decade, but...I'm writing shit down. I'm writing shit down, and it's all because of your post.

You have no idea how much this means to me, and how badly I needed to hear it this week - so thank you. Truly. I am genuinely moved, and so proud of you for your 186k words.

History is made up of the stories people decided to save - and the first step to making sure a story gets saved is writing it down.

I really, really hate writing. Like more than just about anything. I'm a chronic perfectionist, and it can take me a whole afternoon to finish a single paragraph I'm satisfied with. (I spent three days writing this response, and you don't even want to know how long I spend on some of the things I post.) So keeping a journal is not a task I'd ever felt the need to afflict myself with before the pandemic. When I made the post you referenced, my journaling habit was all of ten days old but, against all the odds, here I am over four years later having never (to my recollection) missed a single day.

My daily records of what my cats are doing, and your day-to-day writing progress may not be extensively poured over by future scholars, but for only a few minutes of effort a day we now have recorded hundreds of stories.

And who knows what the people of the future might find fascinating. I'm sure the teenage girl in Philadelphia who smudged the letter she was writing in 1897 because a bee scared her would be absolutely baffled that thousands of people were still laughing about the incident 125 years later.

So much of history, and life in general, doesn't become clear until long after the fact. Historical records are full of people overreacting about events that ended up having very little significance in hindsight, and under-reacting about events they no had no idea were about to change the world. But being able to go back and see what people wrote in the moment, preserving their honest thoughts and hopes and fears, is about as close as you can get to time travel.

Maybe what we fear will come true and we're recording history, maybe we'll look back on what we wrote today and go "phew! that was a close one!", or maybe nothing will come of it at all - I pray it will be the last one, but, whatever the outcome, it's worth writing down.

(Also voting. Please, please vote.)

[pluto-supremacy]

YOUR VI JAIL FIC WAS SO GOOD AND THE HEADCANONS WERE SO SO ACCURATE. :'( IF POSSIBLE, CAN YOU MAKE A P2 TO HOW THEIR LIFE IS OUTSIDE OF PRISON WHEN THEY MAKE IT OUT? or an angst with caitlyn being blackmailed by the warden to only let one prisoner out? :3 said one being vi, and vi having to abandon reader?

Vi Fic: Bye Bye Bun

➼ Aaaah thank you so much! I'm so glad so many people liked the Stillwater headcanons^^ I was afraid my Vi was going to be soooo out of character. I decided to write some angst first >:) if this fic does well or I get another ask I'll also work on life after Stillwater, give you guys some fluff after this

�� Continuation of Vi Headcanons: dating f!reader at Stillwater

➼ No beta we die like Claggor (I'm running out of people who die in the series-)

➼ Warnings: None! Bit of a longer fic for you guys today, enjoy!

GIF does not belong to me! All credits to the owner

The sound of knuckles meeting hard concrete echoed throughout the cell block, small grunts following close behind. "You know we don't get clean bandages for another two weeks Vi, your knuckles are going to get infected at this rate." you called out. Suddenly the pounding stopped and a small chuckle was heard. "Don't worry about me bun, just trying to blow off some steam," she said, pacing around her cell instead of beating up a wall. "You should really get some sleep. Long day tomorrow"

"No such thing as a short day here." you groaned. Carefully you laid down on the ground of the cell. Vi's was only a few doors down, close enough to talk just above a whisper but way too far away to see each other. Both of you always slept against the walls that faced each other. It was the closest thing to sleeping next to each other in this shithole. Aside from whenever you two napped during free time of course. Even then Vi stayed wide awake to ensure you were okay.

"Goodnight Vi, wake me up if anything happens, okay?" "I will Y/N, I promise"

That was nearly two hours ago. You were sound asleep by now, the cold, hard floor no longer keeping you up. It was something every prisoner in Stillwater had to get used to. Mattresses weren't provided. The few that did get a thin mat to sleep on at night only got one after a lot of medical visits and several notes stating they needed one for medical reasons. You and Vi weren't so lucky to have any notes. Still, there were worse things here. Like the food. That's why any food or snacks that were smuggled in were high value items. Currently you had a packet of chips hidden under a loose brick right where you slept. You scored them a few days ago and wanted to surprise Vi by sharing them tomorrow.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened, the clack of heels filling the halls. Caitlyn stopped in front of Vi's sell, her hood still up. "What the hell do you want?" Vi asked, glancing over at the taller woman. "Your help. You beat up an inmate, I needed to question him about a crime scene from yesterday. Why did you break his jaw?" "Because I wanted to." She responded with a small shrug, disinterested in whoever this enforcer was. "Why are you in here?" Caitlyn tried again, looking over the file in her hands. "For my sunny personality." Vi shot back immediately.

Caitlyn shook her head, sighing. "This was a waste of time." she closed the file and her journal, starting to walk off. Maybe she could find away around a broken jaw, pen and paper perhaps. "Couldn't have said it better myself. Give Silco a kiss for me on that winning eye of his." that was what caught the enforcer's attention. Turning around she walked back to Vi's cell, getting a bit closer to the bars. "Silco? The industrialist?" "Hardly what I'd call an industrialist." She scoffed, leaning against the bars. That's when the other woman held up something that caught her eye.

In Caitlyn's journal was a picture of a spray-painted monkey. Just like the ones Powder used to make. "Where did you get this?" Vi asked, desperation creeping into her voice. "My question first. The inmate worked for Silco?" "Everyone in here does. You of all people should know that. Now where did you find that?" "It was at the crime scene, this is evidence" Caitlyn responded. She had the upper hand here now. "If I'm to believe you about Silco, I'm going to need proof."

A way out. Vi could get both of you out of here. "I can provide you proof. Just, not from in here" she gestured to the bars around her. "And," she began to add on "I need another inmate. Inmate 381. I'm not leaving without her." Caitlyn seemed to consider this for a moment. Then she turn and left without a word. What that meant, Vi had no clue.

Caitlyn had ran off back to the warden, forging papers along the way for the release of two inmates. She needed Vi's help to track whoever this person was down, so if someone else had to come along, so be it. As she put the papers down on the warden's desk, he seemed to lazily look over them. "I have orders to release inmates 381 and 516." she spoke up. He hummed in thought before shaking his head. "I can only release one." "What? It says right there-" "I can read. But I'm only releasing one. Pick." "..inmate 516."

So when Caitlyn returned and opened Vi's cell, she immediately ran to your cell. Or at least tried to. The enforcer stopped her a few steps in. "The warden only let me release one of you. You understand that-" "No I don't! This wasn't part of the deal!" Vi went to grab the collar of Caitlyn's dress, the other wrapping her hands around Vi's wrists as she was pressed against the wall. "You will-" "If you try anything I will make sure you're put back behind bars and you never see that other inmate again." Cait rushed out. It wasn't what she wanted to resort to, threats, but it seemed to work.

Almost instantly Vi's grip loosened, slowly setting Caitlyn back down on the ground. Leaving you...

"Once we're done, you let her out. Immediately. No excuses, exceptions, or delays. And I get to say goodbye." Vi demanded. That was fair, anyone could agree to that. Thankfully Caitlyn began nodding, dusting her dress off. "Go ahead then. Afterwards we need to get going to the Undercity."

This was going to hurt.

Vi walked over to your cell, kneeling down at the bars. You were still all curled up, dead asleep. She gently knocked on the bars. "Bun..bun you gotta wake up." That was odd. Vi's voice sounded so close...as you opened up your eyes you saw your girlfriend just on the other side of the bars. There was no quicker way to wake up than seeing your lover free from her cell. "Vi! You escaped! How-" you were cut off by seeing Caitlyn standing behind Vi.

"Who is that?" "Y/N, I can explain." "Vi, who is that!" you were shouting now. You didn't even fully realize it. "She's the one that got me out-" "So now you're going to get me out?" you interrupted. Seeing the pain flash on Vi's face told you everything that you needed to know. "You're leaving me.." your voice was barely audible, but Vi caught every word. She could feel her heart shattering as she saw the tears form in your eyes. "It's only for a little bit. The warden wouldn't let us both out, once I'm done helping Caitlyn we're coming right back for you, I promise."

You wanted to believe her. Vi had never lied to you before, why would she start now? Maybe it was the fear of never seeing her again. Or maybe it had to do with the enforcer standing behind her. Caitlyn was beautiful, you had to admit, so what if...

"No, no this isn't right. Vi you can't leave me here!" you shouted, crawling up to the bars and reaching out to grab Vi's wrist. "Vi you can't leave me! Please don't leave me!" the tears finally began rolling down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away. Vi's own eyes were starting to gloss over with tears. "I'm coming back for you, Y/N. I swear on my life I'm not leaving you. It'll be a few days tops." "What does she," you nodded your head towards Caitlyn "even need help with, huh? What are you going to do for her?"

That cut deep. Vi tried not to take it to heart as she stood up, pressing one last kiss to the back of your hand. "I'm coming back for you." she repeated, steeling herself to actually leave. To not fall to her knees and tell Caitlyn to find someone else. This was your guy's chance of freedom. Even if this hurt you now, it was better in the long run. Everything would be better when you two could be together outside of Stillwater. "Bye bye, bun. I'll be back for you" and with that she turned around and started walking away. Vi knew if she turned around to look at you one last time, she'd never leave.

That's when the shouting started.

"Vi! Vi turn around right now! You can't leave me here!" you were standing up now, having an iron grip on the bars. Almost trying to bend them out of the way so you could run to Vi. Unfortunately you weren't that strong and the bars weren't that weak. "Violet don't leave me!"

Vi quickened her pace, rushing towards the elevator. Your voice was starting to blend with Powder's the day they were separated. It was all too much. She was going to find Powder and come back for you. Everything would be okay, everything would be right. As the elevator doors closed, she heard one last thing. Yours and Powder's voice were nearly indistinguishable from one another as you yelled out:

"TRAITOR!"

[fictitiousmagines]

You've Already Got Me Wrapped Around Your Finger Part 4

You couldn't imagine my delight, when you invited me to a mid-day picnic after you poured your heart out to me in the stacks at Mooney's. I'd wanted to kiss you, so desperately, but heroes wait for their moment.

And you are a vision here in this bustling park, the pale blue sun dress and the same ole tote that you sling over your shoulder. You are a vision. You're effortless, in a way that people try to emulate but never quite measure up to.

You blush and babble as you unpack a spread of cheese, crackers and fruit. As you unpack, your most prized possession tumbles from the depths of your tote: your journal. You've mentioned in passing, that you draw and write in there and its the only time you feel like you can be yourself. I am Captain Ahab and your journal is my white whale.

"Oops," Y/N says while quickly stuffing it back in. Its a deep green with tattered corners but she touches it with such tenderness.

I hope you can be yourself with me, Y/N. I hope you can tell that I'm here to save you. I'm here to take care of you.

It was an absolutely perfect day: the picnic, the train back to our little part of New York City, the leisurely ride home, kissing you on your porch.

Your lips were so soft, Y/N. They're almost a drug. The way I got lost in the moment and buried my hands into your soft hair. Pulling away, you looked up at me with a look that only can be described as vulnerable. Beautiful. I wanted to take you right there. But instead I stroked your cheek with my thumb and reassured you that I had a wonderful time. That I couldn't wait to see you again.

When you texted me later that night, you pulled me out of my reading. But you are always a welcome distraction.

"Thanks again for the beautiful day together. Wanna grab a drink later this week? PS. I lost my journal, maybe on the train? I'm bummed! Does Mooney's sell blank journals?"

I don't answer because I immediately plan on buying you one and bringing it to you in the morning. A nice one. And each time you pour your soul into its pages, you'll think of me.

It was irresistible grabbing it out of your bag on the train. Your attention was on the loud commotion to your right. In an instant, it went from your bag, to my backpack. Hidden under the picnic blanket.

Maybe I'll buy you a new bag, one with a zipper. I don't want anyone pickpocketing you. Anyone could grab your wallet and get your personal information. I just wanna keep you safe. Not everyone is going to have your best intentions at heart. But I do.

I've been worried about you, Y/N. This is just my way of checking on you. I'm sure you're worried about overloading me. About having too much baggage, but you could never be too much for me. The more I read, the more fascinated I became.

I learned from your journal, new things but also things I only suspected. Like, that your dads care overwhelms you sometimes. Even though you love your dad dearly. That you worry that it might be time to put him in a home, even though your heart couldn't bear it. That your brother resists helping you, even though you work round the clock. That you miss your mother. And rereading The Outsiders makes you feel more connected to her.

Your art is always so gestural. So much feeling.

My heart stopped when I saw that you even wrote about me.

You wrote about meeting me at the shop. Our coffee together. And even about eating bodega sandwiches in the stacks of Mooney's. How I made you feel safe at that moment.

"I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I think I like this guy Joe."

[aziraphales-library]

hiiiiii do you have any recommendations for poetic/experimental fics in the middle of this trying tuesday? tysm!

Hello. I do not often partake in poetry myself, so I'd recommend browsing the #GOetry tag on tumblr and the GOems (Poetry by the GOAD Writers Guild) collection on AO3. I'm sure there are other things, but I can't remember or find them right now, hopefully our followers can share more resources. Here is some poetry that sounded interesting to me on AO3...

i have waited by ineffabildaddy (M)

I have waited for you, angel Under the stars on a clear night Thighs trembling around my own crooked fingers I have waited for you, also In the solace of my bedchambers Twisting silk sheets across my chest So they might soothe the ache beneath my ribs Or: Crowley ponders how he has waited for Aziraphale over the millennia.

to know is to covet by anna_bird (T)

A demon tries to mediate upon the chronology of his yearning, but gets distracted just thinking about it.

About embers and wind by Gladia_Delmarre (G)

Love is hard, especially if you see things in total opposite ways. Two short poems of how Crowley and Aziraphale experience love, and how they suffer from it.

A mockery of poetry (for lack of a better term, it is love I feel for you) by jesmalestiel (G)

A love poem from the journals of A. Z. Fell, Heaven's new supreme Archangel. — What are words? But promises we intend to keep Our love lost and buried in the deep,  Building the foundations of this we call our home Lonely and apart though we have roamed. Like crystal glass simmering in a lake, My longing for you never fades in its ache. What is love, if not an open door, leading my heart to join with yours?

I Lik the Pare by LemonMakesLimeade (G)

An angel named Fell takes a walk through the garden of Eden when he finds the snake demon Crawly. The pair share a pear, leading to an outcome neither could expect.... but that both can, in the end, appreciate. A fic written entirely in "My name is cow... I lik the bred" poems. "My name is Fell and wen its day I walk Eden and watch the clay"

Two Stories: Of an Angel and a Demon by orphan_account (G)

Series of poems, telling the stories of Crowley and Aziraphale through their point of view.

- Mod D

[ifearimaybeanamericanidiot]

Hidden Horns, a Devil Off The Ice

Hockey!Chris Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Your job is to write news reports on hockey games. Recently, you've been only given the stories revolving around one certain player, Chris Sturniolo. You just write what you see. It's not your fault he's pressed about it. Did you mention that you write under a pen name and his brothers begged you into going on a date with him? How did life get to complicated?

TW: "hate"/angry sex, SMUT, language

I burst into the editors' office. "Alright, dude, what the hell?! You can't keep giving me Sturniolo game stories! This is all I've gotten for almost two months!" I shout at my boss. Jim turn around in his office chair.

"I keep giving you those stories because it gets our numbers higher than ever. It's my job to do what I think is best for the paper. That's what I'm doing. You're going to keep writing about him, and you're going to keep it tension-filled!" Jim shouts right back. He stands up and shoos me out of the office. "Now, get to that game tonight!" I can not believe this man.

I never wanted to be a journalism writer. Creative writing has always been my forte, but here I am, writing for a major sporting news company. I also never thought I'd meet one of my best friends in a bar downtown after a job. Or that he'd be brothers with the man I'm being forced to write about.

I pick up my phone as I exit the office. "Hey Nick! What's up?"

"Chris is wanting me and Matt to go to the game tonight. You down?" Shit. Nick and Matt know that I work in journalism, but not about their brother. I've managed to get lucky the last few times. This is the first game they'll have gone to in a few months. The first game since I've been writing about Chris specifically. At first, it was just the team. Chris is such a star player though. The articles eventually just dissolved into being solely about him.

I've been told I sort of have a problem with separating my feelings with what I write. Meaning, I don't separate them. I started letting my frustration about being stuck with one topic out in the form of, well, of bashing Chris in my articles. But, I also tend to describe him in almost too much detail. Jim says that sex sells and therefore, I have to keep writing about him. Apparently, the audience seems to think that I'm fucking Chris behind the scenes.

"Oh?" I try to keep my cool with Nick.

"Would you mind coming with? We can get you a ticket-" I have to bite the bullet.

"Oh, I have a ticket actually! A gift from work." I look up at the sky. The color brings up an image of Chris's eyes. I drop my gaze. "Hey, how about I head your way? My editor sent me home for the day."

"Oh- yeah sure! I'm just chilling at home for now!"

"Okay babes. I'll be there in a bit." He tells me bye, and I hang up. I'm going to have to tell him about this, aren't I? I have to sit in the news section. Shit. I shake my head and walk to my car.

Traffic is god awful, but I get to Nick's unscathed. I get to his door, feeling around at the top for his spare key, and let myself in. "Honey! I'm home!" I yell out.

"I'm in the kitchen!" Nick calls back. I head that way.

"Hey." I hop up onto his counter. Matt pops his head into the room. "Oh, hey Matt! I didn't know you were here!" I say, a little surprised.

"Hey!" He smiles and waves, and takes a seat next to Nick.

"So, Nick- funny thing here. The ticket I have is in the news section of seats. I have to sit there." I give him my most award winning smile, hoping he won't put two and two together before I can explain.

"Oh?" He and Matt say in unison.

"Look, I haven't been completely honest. I need to come clean." I put my elbows on my thighs, resting my head in my hands.

"Hey, whatever it is, we won't be mad." Matt says comfortingly.

"You guys have seen the clips of Chris raging on and on about those articles about him, right?"

"Seen them? We have lived them." Nick rolls his eyes.

"I wrote them." I blurt it out. Now, it's out in the open and I can't take it back. Nick and Matt are both silent.

"So, I'm guessing you wouldn't go on a date with him?" Nick says, putting his hands in his lap.

"What." I demand.

"We think you should go on a date with Chris." Matt says.

"What? Why?" I ask, squinting at them.

"You're literally Chris's type." Matt says.

"And, he's been really focused on those articles. We thought it'd might do you both some good to just have fun with someone new." Nick adds. "Why do think he's always posed in the background of pictures I send you?" I snort at that.

"But, I'm the one writing the articles." I point out. "How would I help?"

"First, he doesn't know that it's you writing them. We sure as hell aren't going to tell him. And second, I think he's so pumped up about the articles because you say truer things than any girl he's ever been with." Nick says slowly.

"Honestly, I'm more scared for your ability to walk if he found out you wrote the articles." Matt says offhandedly.

"What?" I shout, jumping off the counter.

"Yeah, our version of the clips of his issues with the articles, is Chris shouting about how he'd like to bend whoever it is over a counter and show them 'who's head is smoking trying to think then.'" Matt shivers as he repeats what I assume are Chris's words. Of course, I recognize the words. They're my words. In one article, I responded to a clip of him being asked about a previous article. He didn't have anything to say, so I wrote 'I smell smoke. Thinking of a chirp, bud?' It's not my proudest moment.

"Ooooooo-" Nick claps his hands together. "Prank opportunity!" He stands up. "You can go to the game, write down your little notes, and go on a date with Chris before you publish the next article. You can make a more personal cut at him. Really wind him up, and then let him start to figure it out that it's you."

"That's a horrible idea." Matt says from his seat.

"I don't even like Chris." I point out.

"Bitch, that's a lie. Come on, please! It'll be so fun to see him get wound up. I never got him back for having a bird painted on my bathroom wall in the middle of the night." Maybe it's because I'm such a good friend, but I agree.

That was roughly three months ago. This "prank" of Nick's has been going on for like three months. I think Chris is finally starting to catch on though. Which sucks. I've actually started to enjoy being with him. We go on dates, and he's so sweet to me. I feel so bad every time I have to write an article. That's what I'm doing now. My computer is open on a fully finished and published article. I can't believe I wrote that Chris should be a Zamboni driver.

My apartment door swings open. There are heavy stomps coming down the hallway, towards the room I'm residing in. The door swings open, revealing Chris, still in his jersey, though he lacked any padding. It hug down a little amount, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his collar bones. God, I love those. Don't get me started about his shoulders. Fuck.

"Hey, dollface." Chris greets me, his voice rough.

"Hey Chris. I'm sorry I couldn't stay for the whole game." He sets his bag down on my bedroom floor.

"It's okay ma, it seems like you got enough to write about before half time." I freeze. My entire body freezes. All I feel is panic. He looks at me, half turned around. "What? Did you think I wouldn't put two and two together?" I can't say anything.

He moves onto to the bed, pulling me flat onto my back, pushing his body over mine. "Really, ma. Did you think I wouldn't notice your pretty little speech patterns? You use literally, like, six times a day. I know you. I'm not stupid."

"I...I'm sorry, Chris." My voice trembles. "My boss won't stop giving me assignments about you." He stops.

"Sweetheart, we're okay." He reassures me. "I'm going to make sure you're real sorry though. Is that okay?" He runs his hand along my thigh. Oh. I nod. "Words, princess."

"Yes. Yes, that's okay." He grins, looking up at me from his position near my waist. God, he looks like a fucking angel. A sexy ass angel, a fucking demon.

"No more nice guy, for now." He pulls his jersey off with one arm. I can't help but let out a groan.

"You're so fucking pretty." I run my hands across his chest and shoulders, moving my hands to his neck. I pull him down, into a searing kiss. He fumbles with my blanket, which had pooled around my waist with all the movement. He pulls it back, breaking our kiss.

"No pants?" He slides his hand up to my ass. "No underwear? Dirty girl." My face warms. "You like that? Fucking good." He pulls my shirt off. "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you. Got that?"

"Yes-" I gasp. "Yes sir." He rests his forehead on mine, and lets out the sexiest moan I've ever heard. Abruptly, he gets up and off of me.

"Come here." He offers his hand. I take it without a second thought. He flips me around, bending me over my own bed. My face pressed into the sheets, his dick pressed against me through his pants, his hand over the back of my own. "Stay, just like this for me. Okay?"

His hand leaves me for a moment. When he comes back, his dick is pressed bare to my skin. "Fuck, Chris. I need it." His hand returns to its place on top of my own.

"Say it real nice." He whispers to me.

"Please, fuck me, Chris?" He groans, before lining himself up and sinking into me. The stretch aches so fucking good. "Yes-" His other hand finds my free one, grasping it firmly. He pulls his hips back, before sinks back into me. He goes slowly for a few thrusts.

"Hold on ma." This is the only warning I get before he begins fucking me into oblivion. I lose track of time. It feels like he goes on, molding my insides to his shape, for forever. Before I know it, I'm tightening around him and screaming, grasping the sheets for my life.

"That's right ma. Squeeze my dick so good." He lightly bite my shoulder, only adding to the amount of sensation. "Aw fuck, ma. You feel so fucking good." My orgasm finally finishes out. As the last waves of pleasure are receding, he pulls out, shooting his load between my thighs instead of in me. He rests his head on my back for a moment, breathing hard against my skin.

He pulls away. I can't muster the energy to move even an inch. Shit. Tears begin to well up in my eyes, I don't even know why I'm so fucking emotional.

"Hey baby. M gonna wipe you down." Chris whispers, wiping his cum off my thighs with a warm cloth. "You did so well, ma. Took me so well. I'm so proud of you. I love you." He adds it on at the end, like he wasn't sure he should say it or not. Then, he moves me completely onto the bed before climbing in next to me.

"I love you too." I tuck myself against his chest, resting my head on his shoulder. I lace my hand into his hair. "I love you so much."

"I love you more. Now, let's nap. Fucking you that hard took it out of me." He lays a kiss on my hairline and cuddles in closer. In his arms, I let myself drift off.

@bethsturn here you go!! sorry if it's not great :,)

[theinstagrahame]

One of the best things about Crowdfunding is, stuff arrives even when you're cutting way back on spending. A *ton* of stuff arrived in the last month and a bit. Got a bunch of really neat projects in, and it's time to get hype about it!

Why these games rule, under the cut

The Revenant Society: Banana Chan is one of those names that immediately catches my attention when she's on a project. Actually, looking at the list again, the team for this game was stacked, it was a real All-Star Cast. But like, even without the powerhouse designers on the case, this just gets all the things I want in a game: Time loops, murder mysteries, trapped on the Underground. A PbtA game where you solve your own murder is, y'know, a pitch that'll attract my attention.

Hellwhalers: I saw this game coming up through design phases in the Plus One Exp Discord, and it sounded incredible. Using tokens and an old ship betting game, you're part of a whaling crew chasing Moby Dick into actual hell. Maybe Ahab wasn't crazy after all, and maybe we won't survive.

Xenolanguage: I might own everything Thorny Games makes now, because they make games about language. Folks who may not know me might not know that I *love* linquistics. Honestly, if I could repeat college, I'd put more of my time into Linguistics. But due to the linear nature of time, I'll settle for playing games about decoding alien language in a first contact situation. Sorta like that movie Contact. Which, I loved.

Mothership and Desert Moons of Karth: I read through the original version of Mothership a couple of years ago, and it's one I wanted to get more into. When I saw that there was a chance to pick up the full 1e boxset on KS, I jumped. I've also seen tons of people talk about Karth as a really awesome sandbox module for the system, so when I had a little cash on DTRPG from selling books, it was an easy pickup.

Inscrutable Cities: Possum Creek Games told me to back this, so I did (this is a joke, but I do love PCG a whole lot). In reality, I saw Inscrutable Cities on Itch a while ago, and the pitch grabbed me. I love reading solo journaling games (I still haven't found a way I like to play them, if I'm completely honest, but they're really neat reads). Walking through an impossible city is something I'd love to do, so, I have the book for it now.

Reap: Spencer Cambell makes bangers, and bangers only. I'm not *not* on a mission to collect all of his work, but Necromancers? Solo tactical board games, built on Rune? Sure. I'm in.

Luna: Spencer Campbell makes bangers, and bangers only. I also picked up another of his books this month. The Nova universe? Moon cultists trying to destroy the sun? Sure, I'm in.

3 Moonlight on Roseville Beach zines: I played Moonlight on Roseville Beach on my now-defunct podcast, and it's a game that I honestly think about a lot. The dice system was complicated, but in a really neat way that gave the players a ton of really interesting decisions with every roll. What part of my action succeeds? What kinds of complications am I opening myself to?

Anyway, R. Rook put together some characters, mysteries, and monsters for the game, and I really wanted to explore more.

Hiria, In the Margins, A Visit to San Sibilia: I mentioned earlier that I like the notion of exploring weird cities, right? Well, here's two games about that, and a cool bookmark RPG for reading. I listened to San Sibilia played in an episode of Friends at the Table, and it really captured my attention. The questions were fascinating, and they let the players flesh out a city we'd only heard of, but not seen prior to that game. It was a cool coda on a really fantastic and weird season, Sangfielle.

Grandmothership: The title alone had me, but Armanda Haller is a creator I keep an eye on, because she makes really rad stuff. This caught my attention because solving mysteries in a weird, Mothership-esque sci-fi setting, as nosy grandmothers, really just, gets me. I want to do that. I want to live that.

Holdfast Station: I've been watching Stonetop develop through its email updates. It's another PbtA game, but with a robust city-building and city development core loop that, is 100% my jam. (Low-key, one of my favorite games is Dragon Quest Builders 2.) This game takes that concept to space, which is 1000% my jam, in fact.

Spectres of Brocken: Aaron Lim is a designer I got into early on in my foray into games, and I do love Mech Anime. I am eager to see his take on Mech Anime, and I am really intrigued by the way this game handles playsets and worldbuilding as part of the game itself. Really can't wait to dive into this.

Lay on Hands: This is another of those games I've heard about, but never actually checked out. I know Alfred Valley better by reputation than by direct experience, but this is one of those games I hear people constantly telling people to check out. So, I'm gonna!

Penumbra City: Maybe 5 years ago, I read a novella by Margaret Killjoy about anarchists living in an abandoned city, and beset by assholes within their community, and supernatural horrors from without. The world kinda stuck with me, so when I saw she was working on an RPG not in the same world), I was curious to see what that would look like. I haven't cracked Penumbra City open yet, but I'm jazzed to do so.

These two fell off the pile for the big photo, so I forgot:

Deathmatch Island: I enjoyed the Hunger Games and Battle Royale movies a pretty moderate amount, but what really caught my attention here was the promise that players could also break the Reality TV Parody. The use of the Paragon system also caught my attention. After hearing one AP of Agon, I really wanted to see how that would translate into this, and it didn't take me too long reading it to go "Oh, okay, this rules."

Our God is Dead: What if you were a paladin or priest of a faith, and you found out your god was dead? What if you also had like, a bunch of people who really needed that god not to be dead, like this weekend? This sounds hilarious, and I am going to insert it into conversation often to see if people want to play it. Apologies to people who know me.

Eagle eyed viewers may have noticed a second Mothership box. What's that about?

It's a storage box for all my Mothership Zines so far... Except the two that are just slightly too big!

And, some fun comics/graphic novels:

Good Boy Paws: A friend of mine in comics put this together, and it looked extremely cute. A sweet tale of a good boi.

Wine Ghost Goes to Hell: Picked this up because the creator had contributed to Bugsnax, which is a game I enjoyed, and the concept seemed fun. Will have to check it out and report back!

[theshmaylor]

ADHD and To-Do Lists

It's a common problem we have. You create a new to-do list or start a planning journal and promise "this is the perfect way to keep a to-do list. I'm Getting Myself Together. this time I'll stick with it. this time I'll Do The Thing Correctly."

And then 4 months later you look around and it's been at least a month since you last looked at the list and you have no idea what important things you have to do and everything is an anxious spiraling mess with no structure for awhile. Then in another few months you find another guaranteed "perfect", ADHD-friendly method to keep a list and the cycle repeats again.

Well, what I've found is there is no perfect to-do list. There's only the to-do list you're willing to use in the moment, and the way to solve this problem is to make a new list before you get to the phase where everything is falling apart.

Let me explain. ADHD brains crave novelty. Without new things, we get under-stimulated and bored (this can be true for everyone, but is worse in ADHD people). That's where the symptoms of impulsivity and difficulty with long-term habits come from.

So, instead of trying to force yourself to keep and maintain the same long-term list or planner, my approach is to IMMEDIATELY create a new list when you feel yourself beginning to ignore the old list. Make it in a different place with a different method. And, most crucially, transfer the incomplete to-do items from your old list to your new list. Reword or reorder them to spice it up.

It sometimes feels silly to make a new list when the old one seems like it's still working, but doing it early lets you skip past the few months where you're left untethered with no list and constantly forgetting about important things.

When I say "different method," it doesn't have to be complicated or overly structured. Just different from what you were doing before. Some of my to-do lists have been:

An email draft

Loose sheets of lined paper

Loose sheets of unlined paper

A .txt file

In a small spiral notebook

A dedicated email account where each to-do item is an individual email sent to myself

An app on my phone with little checkboxes (specifically google Keep, but I'm sure non-google options exist)

A WordPad file

A series of post-it notes stuck on top of each other

Obviously some of these are more convenient than others for portability and accessibility, but for myself I've found that the novelty is more important than how user-friendly it is. (Your mileage may vary of course)

It can be easier said than done to recognize that you're becoming bored with the old list and to get the motivation to create a new list, so I understand if you're skeptical. This idea may not work for you, but it's been the most successful to-do list approach for me, and I'd suggest giving it a try if you've been struggling to make other things work.

[askbensolo]

Journal Entry #51: Weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me in a Spacebucks

Ever since Poe and Beebee-Ate moved in, I’ve been buying caf in the morning more often, instead of making it at home. RIP my bank account.

See, Beebee is kind of hyper in the morning. When my alarm goes off, he rolls off his charging port and starts following me around. Even into the bathroom—like, bro. Personal space?? So, I’m kinda eager to just get out the door as soon as possible.

But, maybe Beebee-Ate is just my poor excuse. Because...coffeeshops in autumn? Vibes. I already admitted to you that I’m a sucker for seasonal beverages.

I'd had it in my mind to try to meditate before work. I had told Fannie I would. (This was before...stuff happened.) And over my morning caf seemed like a good time to do it. But…I never really ended up doing it. I guess I’m afraid of what I’ll see and hear, if I quiet my mind like that. I’m scared I’ll see whatever’s inside me that my mom seems so afraid of... Or, I’m scared I’ll see nothing at all.

Because...that’s how I’ve felt, lately. Like a husk. Holding my head above water, but just barely. Making it through. Texting my mom every day to keep her happy, and saying “Yes I love you I’ll tell my parents about you soon” to my sorta-girlfriend to keep her happy (guess I won't have to worry about that anymore at least), and showing up to work on time and generating five-hundred pieces of content to keep them happy, and lying to my uncle about my connection to the Force to keep him happy (won't have to worry about that anymore either I guess), and suppressing my urge to kick Beebee-Ate across the room like a football to keep my roommate happy (still have to deal with that unfortunately), and, well, I guess I kind of thought if I had my dream life in the city and a decently-paying job and a girl telling me every day that she loves me and I mean something to her and I’m not just a waste of space that I’d be happy, too, but—

…Frick. No. I can’t. See what I mean? I’m much better off keeping my introspection at bay.

And my little daily overpriced latte helps. Because it’s not just coffee. I am purchasing my sanity.

Somehow.

Even if it does cause me financial ruin in my thirties. But, hey—the way the New Republic is going, I don’t got a lotta hope for the decade ahead anyway!

And—well—I just made a little deal that'll set me up for life.

You’ll see.

So, anyway. Since I’m not meditating, I end up people-watching a lot. And, I end up watching Armitage a lot, because he is by far the most entertaining character of the ensemble. At first I thought he was the store manager, but then I saw him getting yelled at by the manager, so, I think he's just a shift leader or something.

But he wants to be the manager. I can see it in his eyes.

And I can tell this guy is a real psych case—someone clinging onto whatever little power he can grasp between his bony little service-gloved fingers—because he runs the place like a freaking military operation. Like, homie?? You do know you’re working minimum wage for a food service galacticorp, right?

I would soooo hate to work with him—but to give him credit, it’s the most efficient Spacebucks I’ve ever been to. Even at peak business hours. Armie runs a tight ship.

(I call him “Armie” in my head. One day it’s gonna come out of my mouth by accident, and dude’s gonna vault himself over the counter and try to murder me.)

(Well, try to murder me again, I mean. No, wait—I'm getting ahead of myself here—you'll see.)

So, last week, they got my order wrong. I brought it to the counter, and Armitage muttered “absolutely unacceptable” under his breath, and dragged over this poor zit-covered, sleep-deprived, college-kid barista by the scruff of his collar and publicly berated him in front of me and forced him to apologize to me and let me keep the first drink but upsized my new drink for free and remade it himself and forced the poor barista kid to watch him do it, and I’m pretty sure someone should report that as a workplace harassment incident—but it was also funny as hell, and sure made my day.

What I actually ordered was the korranut sweetgourd cold brew. But, I ended up kind of liking the first thing, too, so I came back to the counter to ask what it was. The traumatized barista kid ducked into the back when he saw me coming, so I flagged down Armitage.

“Yo, Armitage. What was in that first order?” I asked.

He blanched—as if he could get any paler. His eyes shifted around, like he was afraid who might hear. “What?” he whispered hoarsely.

I blinked a couple times. Was I insane? “Uhh…what was…in the first order…?”

He seemed to regain some composure, and squinted at me. “How do you know about the first order?” he hissed.

Now I was getting a little freaked out. “I…I tasted it?” I stuttered.

Then things got really weird.

He grabbed me by the wrist and took me behind the counter and pulled me into the back room. It happened so fast—my brain froze up. He was skinny as heck, but his grip was like iron. I could’ve beaten him up if I’d tried, but I was scared stiff. I threw terrified looks at the other baristas. Tried to say “help” with my eyes, but they just ignored me. The manager was nowhere to be seen. Either this was a normal occurrence to them, or they were too scared of Armitage to do anything.

Maybe both.

He pulled me into a storage closet and slammed the door behind us and shoved me back against the wall.

“Dude, what—”

“Who are you?” Armitage hissed. “I knew there was something I didn’t like about you from the start, Ben Quadinaros—if that even is your real name. Who sent you? How long have you been watching me?”

“I—I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I stuttered. I was bigger than him, but I don’t like when grown-ups yell at me—it doesn’t matter that I’m a grown-up now—I still don’t like it.

Armitage wrinkled his nose at me. As if I were literally garbage. (For reference, I am only figuratively garbage.) “What’s your real name, Ben Quadinaros?”

Was there a reason why I shouldn’t give him my real name? I didn’t know. Maybe? I couldn’t really think.

“Ben, uh...Calrissian?” I posed weakly.

He looked me over with a snarling grimace, seeming to feel I had insulted his intelligence. “No…no, I don’t believe that one bit. What is it really?”

The Solo snark won out. “Would you take Jabba the Hutt?” I asked.

He sneered. In an instant his hand flew to his hip, under his green apron, and I realized—OH, KRIFF ME—Armie was armed. It was Armitage Arkanis, in the broom closet, with the blaster. Ben Solo becomes a white outline on the floor. I got that horrible feeling all of a sudden like when you jump into hyperspace on a full stomach.

“Oh frick—geez—oh my Force—I’m—Ben—my name is—Ben Organa Solo!” I blurted, genuinely scared for my life. Because yeah, my life kinda sucks, but it doesn’t suck that bad—not bad enough to lose it to an unhinged ginger who’d smoke me in the back of a Spacebucks for, what—lying about my name?

“Solo,” Armitage said slowly, and his eyes flashed with recognition. “Yes. I knew it. The Alderaanian princess’s son. What do you want from me, then? Information?”

“I-I mean…yeah? I…I just wanted to know what was in the drink,” I choked out. “Please. Don’t kill me.”

Now his expression turned to one of bewilderment. “…The drink?” he repeated.

“Y-yeah," I said. "The order that got messed up. The…the first one.”

The longest thirty seconds of silence ever. My knees were shaking and my heart was pounding in my ears. I felt like I was either gonna throw up or piss myself. I wondered what it felt like to get shot.

And then Armitage blinked a few times and withdrew his hand from his hip and looked around for a second and became the shift leader again and seemed to realize how insane it was that he’d dragged a paying customer into a broom closet and threatened him. He took a clumsy step backward and cleared his throat.

“I…apologize for the misunderstanding,” he muttered weakly. I could sense his weakness.

Oh, I thought. He's not so scary. I could crush his windpipe with one hand. And then I stopped feeling so afraid.

I saw an opening. Stood up a little taller. Squared my shoulders a little.

“Uhh, yeah, you better,” I said. “‘Cause I’m reporting your ass. What the kriff, dude?”

He took another step back, and cast a worried glance behind him.

Oh! So he was scared of me now. I liked that. I liked that sooo much better.

“I mean...hello?" I shouted. "You’re kriffing insane! You can’t freaking do that to people! Who do you think you are? Who’d you think I was?”

“I misunderstood,” Armitage sniffed, but he couldn’t hide his discomfort. “I…I thought you were someone looking to get me in trouble.”

“Yeah, well, now I am,” I said. I took a little step forward, and he took a little step back. I found that really funny for some reason, and if I weren't so fired up I would've laughed at him. “Seriously! You were making threats on my life just because you thought I was like, what, an undercover workplace investigator? From Spacebucks corporate, or sentient resources, or something?”

“Yes,” Armitage agreed hurriedly. “Yes. That is—exactly—precisely—who I thought you were. Quite.”

“Well, you should damn well be investigated,” I huffed. “For Force’s sake! I’m filing a police report.”

“Don’t,” he begged.

“You were gonna pull a blaster on me!”

“I don’t have one. I don’t have one!” He pulled up the lap of his apron and showed me his pockets. And he was right. His legs were so skinny. Like toothpicks, or something. There was no way he had a blaster—not even one of those really little ones.

So, he’d been bluffing. That tracked. I was beginning to understand this guy real kriffin' well—he was scary as kark, until you had him in a corner, and then he just freaking melted.

“Okaaay,” I said. “Pretty sure you can still get in a lot of trouble for threatening me. You don’t want my mom to know about this, buddy. She practically freaks out when I get a hangnail.”

Armitage turned white. Again—as if he could get any whiter. “P-Princess Leia? I mean…the Senator Organa?”

“The one and only.”

Bro dropped to his knees on the dirty-ass closet floor. “Oh, my God. Please. No.” I once again suppressed the urge to laugh at him.

Wow! Wasn’t this amusing. I felt like I could kick him in the face right now, and he’d just sit there and take it.

Something stirred within me. Something toothy and mean and strong that rippled downward through my body and made my hands feel hot. Maybe it was that thing Mom and Uncle Luke were so afraid of. What Snoke had always tried to encourage, before I cut contact with him. What Snoke seemed to still want to stoke inside of me, now that his whispers had begun again to brush up against the perimeters of my mind. That power that had made me believe, for a second, that I could come at my uncle with a lightsaber...

Armie’s bottom lip trembled. Now he looked like he was going to throw up or piss himself. I kept him in suspense for a luxurious fifteen more seconds and wondered if he’d cry. I imagined what it’d feel like to bash this loser’s skull in for thinking he could threaten me.

How many homicidal fantasies is a guy allowed to have before he has to turn himself over to the psych ward? Is twice in one year okay? As a treat?

Asking for a friend.

Anyway. Now that I knew he wasn't armed, I wasn't scared of him anymore. Because if Armitage wasn't armed, then it was just up to whoever had bigger arms, and that was me—but luckily for Armie, we were kind of in an armistice.

Well, I was gonna call the police on him. But then I had the most legendary, freaking hilarious idea ever. A real stroke of genius.

“...Okay, Arkanis,” I said finally. “I’ve got a solution: buy me caf for the rest of my life, and I won’t tell your manager. Or the police. Or my mom.”

Armie’s eyes bugged out. “Buy your caf?” he spluttered. “For life?”

“Yep.” I gave him a little grin and a nod. “What can I say? I’m a college grad in a failing economy, who bought into the lie that my degree would mean something, and now I’m effectively an alcoholic—just with overpriced caf-based beverages instead of booze.”

Armitage blinked slowly, like an ugly little frog, and wet his thin, pale lips.

I shrugged. “I’m a simple man, Armitage. I’m giving you options here. Finance my addiction, and I’ll let this go.”

He slowly rose to his feet. “There is no way I could possibly afford that,” he spat. “You come in here almost every day.”

“Yeah, well. Can you afford me reporting you to the authorities?” I asked. “‘Cause I’ll throw in what an abusive little skrit-head you are to your employees, too. And the time I saw you accidentally sneeze into a drink but serve it anyway.”

If he was any paler, he’d be frickin’ transparent.

“...Fine,” he said. “But—there has to be a credit limit on this. Five credits a day.”

“Five credits doesn’t buy a single damn thing on your menu, and you know it."

“It buys a plain black coffee,” he disagreed haughtily.

“I don’t want a plain black caf, I can make that at home,” I snapped. “And what makes you think you’re in any position to negotiate? I don’t have to hold my tongue. I can call the police right now.”

Armitage opened his mouth and closed it again. Like an ugly little fish. (Basically you could describe him as an ugly little anything and it'd be accurate.)

Well, I already had all the leverage here. But I decided to throw him a bone anyway.

“Look, buddy,” I said softly. “I keep in shape, so I’m not gonna rack up a tab. And when I’m picking up orders for work, they let me do it on the company card. I'll go easy on ya. I swear. So…do we got a deal, or what?”

He was silent for several moments, his eyes kind of glassed over. Then he nodded dumbly.

Oh my Force. He actually went for it.

Ha! Baby’s first blackmail.

“Nice.” I grinned and punched him lightly in the shoulder. He flinched. “So, uh. You mind transferring me some credits for today? And then you can just, like, give me a gift card, or something.”

Again, he nodded, looking like I'd kicked his puppy—or, maybe just like a kicked puppy. For a second, I almost felt bad.

And then I remembered how he'd threatened my life—or tried to make me think that he could—and I thought of Snoke—and I thought of Luke—how my whole life I've always felt like everyone was always trying to control me—and how I'd sworn to never let anyone throw me around ever again—and suddenly, I didn't feel quite so bad anymore.

"Crabapple caramel crunch," Armitage muttered, all of a sudden.

I looked at him. "What?"

He raised his watery eyes to meet mine, the familiar scowl back in place.

"That was the first drink," he said quietly. "The...first order."

[wholesomefluffdaddy]

Wednesday's new court mandated therapist is having her keep a journal of her thoughts and feelings. Wednesday finds this to be a complete waste of time and decides instead to use it to record her observations of her unusual roommate Enid Sinclair. Wednesday POV.

——————————————

Entry 5

Current Moon Phase: Full Moon / Hunter's Moon 🌕

I am at a loss for words and yet I must record my findings. I… made a mistake.

The day of the full moon was as typical as can be expected. Enid requested to sleep in my bed the night before. I acquiesced. This has become a common occurrence on the evening before the full moon. She says she finds herself too restless to sleep and that a close proximity to me provides her with some sort of comfort. I admit that I find the arrangement to be mutually beneficial. Enid is able to rest and I find that my own slumber is deeper and darker. I get to awaken with the feeling of sharp deadly claws gripping me close, beautiful long fangs inches from my neck, and the melodiously threatening snarls and growls of an apex predator in my ear.

My body's reaction to such tantalizingly imminent danger is rather contradictory. At first I feel heart palpitations, likely from a rush of adrenaline. Second, I feel my whole body's temperature rise, which is unexpected. If it was truly fear then the heat increase should be contained to my head and torso, not the whole body. Third, I feel my mind become hazy. This is quite the opposite of how it has been in the past. I usually find myself to become sharper under life threatening situations, not duller. It is as if my body enters fight or flight but also accepts an inevitable death. Death at the hands of my partner friend roommate a werewolf is most befitting of an Addams. It would be an honorable death.

I seemed to have digressed. It was the evening when things became more eventful, as Enid spent most of the day cooped up in our dorm room. As the moonrise was fast approaching she made a predictable request; that I accompany her to the Lupin Cages. I do not see why she still believes the need to ask, it should be a given that will join her. My backpack was already prepared with the usual things.

We made our way down to the cages and selected the one at the far end as has become customary. As I made to follow Enid into the cage she held out a hand. She said she didn't want me to join her. I was perplexed. She said she didn't know if it was safe. I protested but she held firm. The cage was locked and I begrudgingly sat beside the bars as I pulled out my book and reading light. I made sure to shift my body away to allow Enid privacy as she disrobed. My eyes felt inexplicably drawn to the horizon as the moon rose.

Its progress seemed agonizingly slow. The sound of Enid's labored breathing was incredibly galling. Once the moon had fully arisen I waited for Enid's howl but it did not come. Instead I felt hot breath on the back of my neck. I turned around to see the werewolf panting heavily. I stuck my hand through the bars and Enid brushed up against it in apparent gratitude.

Several howls soon erupted around us, which made Enid raise her hackles. I tried to focus on my book as Enid began pacing. Occasionally I'd feel her fur as she tried to rub up against me through the bars. I was admittedly frustrated that she did not allow me inside the cage with her, as I was most certain I could soothe her disquiet. How wrong I was. The light from the moon was so bright that I eventually had no need for my reading light.

Enid grew increasingly more agitated as the moon rose higher and higher. She started growling, then pawing at the bars, before finally throwing herself at them. I heard similar sounds around me which indicated that Enid's kin were facing much the same affliction. I stashed my book away as I tried to pacify Enid. My words seemed unable to reach her as she tried desperately to free herself from the metal prison. It was deeply distressing to witness. I felt a sense of helplessness that drove me to a foolish and selfish act.

I unlocked the door to the cage. My intention was only so that I could enter to calm her. However, as soon as Enid heard the click of the lock she rammed herself against the door, bowling me over, before sprinting off into the woods. I cursed most vehemently at my own stupidity. I made to follow but it was quite clear, with my short stature, that I would not be able to catch up to a werewolf that had been driven mad by the moon.

This did not mean I was about to give up my pursuit. Enid had entrusted me with her wellbeing while her mind was in such an altered state. I would not fail her. Though it was my failure in the first place that led to such a predicament. As I ran I found that my vision had become blurry. Perhaps it was the low light, pollen, or rush of air as I ran that caused the physical irritation my eyes were experiencing. I had to wipe away the continuous buildup of excess fluid obscuring my vision.

When I could run no more and I lost the trail I began calling out Enid's name. My efforts were for not as Enid was clearly too far gone, whether physically or mentally. My own ineptitude weighed heavily upon me, so much so that it brought me to my knees. I did not give up, for I could not give up. I continued calling Enid's name until my voice was hoarse. I forced myself back to my feet as I searched the ground for the werewolf's trail. I do not know for how long I wandered those accursed woods. My perception of time was no doubt altered by my distressed mental state.

As my voice was almost dead upon my lips as my vocal cords threatened to give out I heard something crashing through the underbrush towards me. My relief and anguish was unbearable as my werewolf returned to me. Her eyes were wide as they landed upon what I'm sure was a most disgraceful sight. I pounded my fists against the solid mass of fur and muscle before me. I cursed and ranted with what little voice I had left. I was silenced as a set of large fluffy arms pulled me into an almost bone crushing embrace.

I made to apologize most profusely for my own foolishness but my voice had finally abandoned me. I buried my face, out of shame, into her fur and clutched it tightly with both hands. I was not going to let the werewolf leave my sight again. I heard her soft whines but they were somewhat muffled. I felt a wet nose press to my cheek as it began sniffing me over. Once she had finished her inspection of my piteous state she began moving, carrying me with in her large arms.

I do not know when we arrived back at our dorm, only that it felt like mere minutes between being in the middle of the woods to being deposited back onto my bed. I rubbed my eyes to clear them and discovered the source of that evening's madness. Enid gently placed a dead squirrel into my hands. I looked at it and then at the seemingly anxious werewolf. My voice was hardly more than a whisper as I thanked her for the gift. Of course she was driven to hunt on the Hunter's Moon. How gormless was I not to realize it? My words had only just escaped my lips when a large tongue enveloped my face.

I tried in vain to push the overgrown mutt away but she was persistent in drenching my face with her slobber. The springs of my bed creaked loudly as the werewolf crawled onto my bed and took me once again in her arms. The wind was squeezed out of my lungs as she proceeded to lay atop me after the onslaught of licks. Being crushed to death by a werewolf was an acceptable punishment for my own witlessness. Either from exhaustion or the lack of oxygen in my lungs, I soon lost consciousness.

[uh-velkommen]

More Trans thoughts:

I think if I had been born male, I would've been a big sports bro. Even now I love being active but I can never find a space that allows me to be aggressive and sweaty without getting made fun of or told that I can't participate because I'm a girl. I used to hate gym class because the boys would be so mean when they had to play with a girl, but I never felt like I fit in that "dainty girl sucks at sports" category. So, I would intentionally give nothing at whatever we were doing because it was expected of me. But inside, I wanted to play with boys the way other boys did.

-----

Sometimes when I think about starting T, the most exciting part to me are voice cracks. The pitch and sound of my own voice has been a massive insecurity all my life and I think having other people laugh at my voice cracks would be so affirming, like I'm truly one of the boys simply going through puberty.

The men on my dad's side aren't really blessed with facial hair which is good imo because I hate the sound of shaving a beard and I haaaaaate mustaches so I worry about growing facial hair though.

-----

I thought internalized homophobia was a tough thing to battle but internalized transphobia is like next level. Sometimes I worry about fitting the stereotype of being Autistic AND Queer and what that means in the validity of my identity.

Every now and then, I get intrusive thoughts like, "What if the conservative right was right the whole time and queer culture brain washed me into being trans!" Trust me, I'm well aware of how stupid it sounds, and that's why it's intrusive. Me being 12 and falling into a research hole about Trans identities was obviously due to me having some deep instinctive connection, not because I was grooming myself to be trans??? Other times, I fear that Im not trans and it's actually just internalized misogyny, a hatred of the way the world has treated me and the idea that life would be easier if I just became a boy. As if it was a get out of jail free card. "Simply become a man and you'd get treated better!"

Nobody is transitioning, risking family, friendships, their lives, altering their bodies, and stepping out of everything they knew, for the sake of stopping catcalls and male bulldozing. Having this distain for the way women are viewed and treated under a patriarchal society doesn't explain away the immense dysphoria I have always felt. I'm saying this to emphasize that these are intrusive thoughts due to internalized transphobia and I AM able to rationalize them. I would also never project these thoughts onto other Trans people, so why would/should I believe them for myself...

-----

I watched one youtube video that suggested I keep a gender journal, and I think that's what I'm doing here. I'd rather do it here because I've spent all my life keeping these thoughts in my head. I don't want to keep them in a private journal, I want to share them with the world. I'm not worried about "being found out" by people I know irl. If anything, I'd want them to understand the way I've felt internalizing all this. I think I can compare my dysphoria and the whole "trying to ignore it" thing to the feeling one gets when they can't remember if they've turned off the stove before leaving the house. The whole time, you know the answer, but your brain remains in panic mode because if you did leave it on (if I am actually trans), you risk destroying your home (changing your whole life). If you try to ignore it, you still worry. If you acknowledge it, you worry even more. If only you could just check (if only I could dabble in gender affirming activities), then maybe you'd feel okay. But simply opening your ring camera (getting a haircut or putting on a binder) isn't enough. You have to go all the way. Though, that would require you to turn around and go all the way home (face my fears). In the end, it's easier to just turn a blind eye, all the while that flame is devouring everything you once held dear.

[faraway-sunshine]

one of them has glasses :0

Meet Whoever's In My Head #3: Austin Shinsuke

I liked my drawing from the other dump too much, so I just made a copy, isolated him and finished it up.

(Sunday 17th September, 2000, 7:12 AM)

(More under the cut)

Backstory

I don't remember an exact moment where Austin became separate from me, but I know that there was always some part of me that acted a little extra grown-up than the others. And I guess after whatever led me to develop differently, it grew into him.

He's a caretaker, one of two significant ones. A lot about Austin came from traits I found grown-up and impressive, such as height and glasses. Most of the time, he's either in turtlenecks or a loose outfit with the big sleeves that's almost like a choirboy or some other church person. The scarf is also there almost all the time.

Although I think of him as older, it's a childish sense of older, like the things I'd note set Mari and Hero apart from my friends in the same grade. He doesn't actually know much more than me about things.

Austin always excelled in trying to fix my messes. He's very anxious and finds it hard to talk, especially as he largely wanted me to present as normal most of the time (though he was gentle with the rest of us and would tell us that if it hurts us to hide we should find a compromise). When he'd be in control, he'd do things like tidy up, check on my friends if I hadn't talked to them in a while, read, do homework, and ask for help if we needed it (like in math). He's kind of a team with another presence of mine, coming in after the big feelings (like tantrums or panic attacks) or just before them to try and mitigate them. He's also very much involved with engaging with Haru, and is to him a little like Mari was to me.

He was really helpful to me and important, especially when I'd feel helpless or disconnected, but I did find him a little annoying sometimes as he'd start listing everything I could have done to avoid a bad outcome or finding solutions when I just want comfort. But he's comfortable, and nice, and knows when he's gone too far or listens if I can't take it right now.

Austin also really likes puzzles and mystery books, and he's the best gamer. He keeps trying to get the rest of us to start a more private journal to keep myself oriented, though I rarely have blackouts during important times these days (right now Austin is telling me that therapy counts as "important times", hah).

Design

He's grown-up and black and white as the rest of us, but has soft edges. Most other design choices are in the above. His eyes and Haru's are also different from the others as I used to draw them differently and they're the older ones.

His name in English and Japanese is both new. I let him pick a name and he did a bit of reading and came back with it. Though Austin's mostly happy to present as Sunny to help not confuse people.

[squishranger]

AT LAST SEVERAL MONTHS OF BRAINROT COME TO FRUITION

here's a carrd for all tptmers who want to meet some Fun New Girls That I Made (it defaults you to the first girl, but the button leading to the second one is at the bottom... and at the bottom of the second girl's page... is a button leading back to the first! careful not to get stuck in an infinite loop.)

EDIT: OH GOD ITS SO UGLY ON MOBILE. USE YOUR COMPUTER PLEASE

the full designs, transcripts and screenshots of the carrd for mobile users, and other such ramblings are under the cut

REVERIE GIRL , she/they/cloud/dream/star/whatever suits your fancy, wants the world to spin both faster and slower than it does... if she had the gumption, they'd have everything she wanted by now, but they tend to only have the energy to lay in bed and think about lost times. she's a nostalgiacore girlie and she has little else to go off of in terms of defining who she is. (star's... basically just a self-insert.)

PAGE:

JOURNAL TRANSCRIPT: ohhhh my god what am i doing . i cant keep living like this. like its not even living im not even doing anything every morning i wake up and i regret i regret waking up i dont want to wake up but how am i ever supposed to live if i cant do anything other than stare at the ceiling and pretend things are better than they are ??? at this point i'd rather give up. live in my daydream forever with my friends and my cat whos been dead for like two years now i think but i wanna go back to her i wanna go somewhere else. i havent given a shit about reality in fucking forever im so done with it but some part of me wants to live. maybe even get out of my fucking parents house. get a job learn to drive be a person or something. but i'm so stuck. i just hurt all the time. i dont know what part of my heart to follow. i dont know what to do. i can't just go back to bed this time i can't…. i can't…. i always tell myself that and then i do. i need to make up my mind.

CARRIER GIRL, she/he/they/it, has been abandoned by everyone who ever loved her. though she lives a generally stable life, it's a distinctly lonely one, and it isn't enough for her. there is something yet to be fulfilled. some kind of desire. she only wants to feel as loved as she once was.

PAGE:

JOURNAL TRANSCRIPT: hello blog!! i got myself an iced matcha latte from my favorite local cafe today! it was really good. but it like, it got me thinking… will any little treat i buy myself ever make me feel better about how freakin' lonely i am?? man, i dunno why i started thinking like that… i get matcha all the dang time. so often they're starting to feel more like breadcrumbs. i think it'd taste like something again if i shared it with someone. i think i peaked in high school. that was when i had friends and before all that awful stuff happened and yeah maybe i wasn't doing great but i had people. and then they all went to college or got married or had babies or something and… augh!! i can't be bitter!! they're living their best life… just… without me. and now every time i reach out i get brushed off, pushed away… i want someone who won't leave me. will i ever have someone who won't leave me? maybe i won't. maybe i should just accept that. everyone always leaves. i've been nothing but kind to people, i really think that, so what am I doing wrong? ohh boy this one really spiraled outta control didn't it… sorry ;-; i'm just gonna save it and go think for a bittt….

THIS WAS A VERY FUN EXERCISE for character design and branching out with my art style (i did in fact draw both of these characters.. it's probably pretty obvious but i tried to make them look like they were sorta drawn in different styles like the canon girls bc it's cool i think. if that makes sense JSDFJSDF) and coming up with metaphors, i actually had so many other girl ideas that got scrapped for one reason or another, and only two came out unscathed... there may be more... in the future... as for songs, i don't know if that'll ever happen. i have most of the tools, aside from voice synth, so i'd probably just use my own voice. which might be CRINGEEE (ironic statement) so we'll see how that goes!! ^^' don't... don't count on it...