#if people are getting mad at us now that emails are answered a day or two late.. holy fuck. imagine this.

[clarenecessities]

He-man.org will close in 5 days.

He-man.org has been a staple of the Masters of the Universe community since the early days, originating as an email list that worked to document episodes before anything (not footage, not lists, nothing) was available online. It grew into a sprawling, multi-faceted beast of a thing, including an encyclopedia (an in-house wiki), merch lists, a marketplace, forums, anything you could think of.

Several years ago now, the main site went down for updates/maintenance. For a few weeks, we were told, maybe months. The forums remained open for fans to communicate, and barring a period of downtime earlier this year things were going smoothly.

Yesterday, the owner of the site, Val Staples, announced the site would be closed on November 14th, 2023. Six days later. We are currently attempting to contact him, to see if he’s interested in selling, and if he means closed as in “no new posts” or closed as in deleted entirely. Regardless of its eventual fate, the archiving of these forums is essential to preserving the history of the franchise, the fandom, and the brand.

TO SHE-RA (and MotU) FANS SPECIFICALLY: I have personally used these forums to answer questions that could be answered nowhere else. Had I not had access to them, I would never have been able to prove that Purrsia was fake, or found so much unpublished concept art, or discovered that Scott “Toyguru” Neitlich personally wrote Catra’s MOTUC bio (even if he’s put off answering my questions about it for over a year now). Forum members have conducted interviews with the likes of Jon Seisa, Cathy Larson, Janice Varney-Hamlin—essential figures in the very foundations of POP, and those interviews revealed and recorded priceless information for future generations (me! you! us!) to find. Did you know Cathy Larson named Adora? That she originally pushed for “Dorian”, after her own daughter? We cannot let this treasure trove disappear into the ether(ia).

TO THE UNAFFILIATED: Please help. Pretty please. If you’ve ever liked my art or my writing or my haphazard blogging, ever, at all, consider archiving just one board. Just one page. Literally anything helps. I am spiraling into madness & this is my library of Alexandria. The mythical one that was totally unique and persevered nowhere else and was destroyed in a single cataclysmic event. Pretty pretty please help.

HOW TO HELP:

Archive.org has several ways to upload shit but most of them are longer term than “a few days” so we’re focusing on two (which can be run simultaneously): Save Page Now, and browser extensions. From their help page:

1. Save Page Now

Put a URL into the form, press the button, and we save the page. You will instantly have a permanent URL for your page. Please note, this method only saves a single page, not the whole site.

We want to keep outlinks and screenshots wherever possible. The Archive does not keep your IP address, so your submission is anonymous.

2. Browser extensions and add-ons

Install the Wayback Machine Chrome extension in your browser. Go to a page you want to archive, click the icon in your toolbar, and select Save Page Now. We will save the page and give you a permanent URL.

One plus to installing the extension is that as you surf around, when you run into a missing page they will alert you if we have a saved copy.

More extensions, apps, and add-ons:

Firefox add-on

Safari Extension

iOS app

Android app

I strongly encourage you to use these tools even if you aren’t helping with this project/after it ends. Documenting and preserving information is essential in this day and age & The Internet Archive is at the heart of it. Please support them however you can.

I’m serious about paying you, though I may need more communication with folks I don’t know so we can coordinate/verify shit gets done. I think this is a worthwhile pursuit in itself but I recognize your time is valuable & like, people gotta eat. DM me if you’re interested and we’ll talk. I may need to adjust pay depending how many people bite but I’ll do what I can

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: I really gotta finish my paper (don't worry I'm like 3/4 done).

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The light is there again. Bright, green, searing into your vision as it shines against the wall, weaving in perfectly between the curtains. Every night. Taunting you. And in the morning, gone. 

Can you call it a pattern after only three days?  

You don’t know what to call it. You don’t know what he wants from you. If he wanted to hurt you, he would by now, wouldn’t he? Or is this a sick game he’s playing? Whatever it is, it’s madness.  

You sit up and grab your pillow. You cross the room to the door and close it behind you. You put the pillow on the couch and pull down the folded throw across the back. You don’t expect to sleep out here either but you won’t have to stare at the insufferable dot. 

You lay down on your back and sigh at the ceiling. You stare up at the plaster until your eyes close on their own. Your shoulders are tense, your back too, every muscle in you has been knotted for days. You tried a hot shower, even a bath, but both just made you feel vulnerable. You’ve never been overly comfortable being naked but now you feel as if he can see your every movement. 

You tried some exercises in an effort to loosen up too. Those only made you dizzy due to your lack of sleep and rationing. Those should be a sign for you to rethink your strategy but your only other option is to face the danger. You know better than that. 

You huff as the last gray days pile on you. You open your eyes and bring your hand up to your forehead, trying to rub away the stress. You pause as a gleam flashes over your flesh. You drop your arm back down and raise yourself on your elbows. 

Jeez. 

Right there in the middle of your chest is the dot, rather a sliver of it. You look up as it glints in between the verticle blinds. You drop back down. Fine, whatever, if he’s going to shoot, he should just get it over with. You hate this limbo. It’s easy when you know what you’re waiting for. This is just torture. 

A sudden jarring jingle cuts through the din. You sit up, heart beating. It isn’t the deafening gunshot you expected. The green laser ripples through the darkness as you stagger up to your feet and cover your ears. You follow the blaring noise into the bedroom. 

Your phone lights up on your nightstand, flashing as you cross the space. You grab it and quickly silence it, staring at the screen in confusion. You keep your phone on silent, always. You never really use it for more than your banking and emails. On the screen, you see a map of your neighbourhood and a speck pulsing at the centre; your apartment. Huh. 

You remember dismissing that feature before. Several times when you got the phone it kept offering to set up the ‘find your phone’ app but you figured you wouldn’t need it. Yet, here it is, chiming and chirping at you. It isn’t a coincidence. It’s him. 

You peer over at the window and the green glare pours through. You look down again and find the dot right there. You shake your head and back away, hugging yourself as you flee back into the living room. It’s all so messed up and confusing. You don’t get how this can be happening. 

You go into the kitchen. No windows to haunt you there. You put your phone down and lean on the counter as you hold your head. You blow out a breath and you close your eyes. 

You try not to let yourself ask the questions but you’re so tired, you can’t keep fighting this hard. Who is he? How did he find you? Was that day at the cafe the first? Were you so obtuse that you never noticed him before? Does any of it matter? 

The silence shatters again as your phone erupts in a cacophony once more. You back away and cup your ears. You’ve never done well with noise, especially loud noise, or too much at once. It’s a sort of dissonance that makes your head spin. 

You scramble to grasp the phone, eardrums pulsing, and you hit the button again to hush it. You close out of the app and a notification pops up at the top of the screen. For a moment, you’re confused. The only messages you get are obvious scammers or stupid adverts you need to unsubscribe from. 

‘Get some beauty sleep.’ 

You scowl as you stare at the text. What does that even mean? Even if the number is private, you don’t need to guess. You know it’s him. He’s messing with you. You won’t respond, not even in writing. You delete the conversation entirely and shut the phone off. 

You leave it on the counter and go back to the couch. The laser awaits you. You lay down under it and resign yourself to your fate. The only comfort is he’s still out there and you’re in here. A ripple of fear courses through you as you wonder how long that can last. 

👄

Your mail doesn’t come to your door. It’s left in one of the dozens of metal boxes near the front door. Typically you go down to grab it twice a week. You haven’t gone once in the last six days. You don’t plan on it either. You get digital statements for everything anyhow. 

Yet, that doesn’t stop the special delivery from sliding underneath the door. You’re in your kitchen when you hear the soft whoosh. You go to the doorway and stare at the envelope on your floor as you lazily stir your instant coffee. You’re too tired to react with more than a yawn. 

You think it could be a notice from the building. They usually leave one when they have to do an inspection. Yet, there’s not sign of the rental companies logo and the envelope is black. You doubt they’ve rebranded. 

You sip from your coffee and sit at your desk. You login to the portal and open up a task. You don’t need to worry about all that. You muster all you have left for your daily toil. It’s the one thing you can’t forego; the one thing you share in common with other people, you need money to survive. 

You empty the coffee with careless gulps as you key through several tasks. The hours drag by, the clock ticking in the corner of the screen, second by second, minute by grueling minute. The days don’t matter, they all blend together in this hazy purgatory. 

You’re drawn from your mindless typing by the agonising growl of your stomach. You’re starving. Those times when you do let yourself eat, it isn’t much. Finally, your humanly needs have overcome your lack of appetite. You can’t deny it any longer. 

You return to the kitchen with your empty mug. You go to rinse it and water spurts forth, for just a second, then the pipes grind and run dry. You put the cup in the sink and cross your arm. You march out to the bathroom and try the sink in there with the same result. The faucet in the tub runs a little longer but peters out to a single drip. 

Hm, maybe that’s what the letter’s about. 

You sweep back out and scoop up the envelope. Just bending down makes you see stars. You put it on the counter and go to the cupboard to take out the salted crackers. You unfurl the top of the sleeve and wiggle one out. You munch on the stale square and slip your thumb under the flap of the envelop and tear. 

You put down the crackers and rip open one end of the envelope. You shake out the contents. It isn’t a letter. Just a folded pamphlet with something smaller inside. You unfold the spa booklet to uncover the all-inclusive pass within. You drop both and grip your head. 

Is this some sort of bribe? Bait? He’s trying to draw you out and with what? The worst experience you could think of? The smells, the touching, the people... 

You put it all back in the envelope. You don’t want it. You don’t even want it in your apartment. Your safe space. He’s invading it little by little. He can’t have it.  

You go to the door and shove it back under the bottom. You push it as far as you can and fall back, catching yourself on the wall. Your head hurts, you’re tired, you’re stressed, you’re afraid. You just want everything to go back the way it was. You want to be alone. That’s all you ever wanted. 

👄

You use your phone to authorise the two-factor sign-in to your bank account. You set it aside after confirming and wait for the screen to load. Your heart nearly stops as you see the balance. A few times you came too close to the red but this is not what you’re expecting. There’s about fifty thousand dollars extra. It has to be an error. 

You click on your chequing and bring up the next screen. There is is ‘50,000’ in bold green letters but it doesn’t say where it’s come from, just ‘authorised payment’ next to it. What the heck does that mean?  

Right below it you see your work deposit. That appears as usual. Company name, amount, account number. So what happened? 

You click the chat icon at the bottom of the page and wait for an agent to connect. You go through the typical automated questions; what is your issue? Account number? All of that. When you finally have a representative and explain the extra zeros in your account, the response is only three dots. 

You shake your head. You don’t need this. You have enough going on. Your water’s still out, you’re almost out of coffee, and you haven’t even started work. Halfway through and it feels like you’ve only just started a new week. You frame your face as you await the response. 

‘Hello, miss. Thank you for your patience. We have found no error in this transfer.’ 

You lean back and whine. That doesn’t make sense.  

‘Can I know where the money came from?’ You type. 

‘The payee is listed as London Fog LLC. It appears to be a business payment.’ 

You close your eyes. What? That makes no sense. It... can’t be. 

‘Can you reverse the payment, please?’ You input. 

‘We can attempt to reverse this. This might take a few days to process. We will keep the ticket open until this is done.’ 

‘Thank you.’ 

You close out the chat. That’s as best as you can do. It’s all so weird and you can’t deny the nagging truth. It’s not an error or a coincidence. It’s that stranger. He is playing a very confusing game. 

Your phone lights up and your eyes flit down. You lean in to glimpse the notification before it minimises. ‘Happy hump day <3’. You quickly black out the screen and flip it over. Leave me alone! 

👄

You almost expect the knock on your door. Deep down, you knew it was coming. Noon, on the dot. It’s Wednesday. 

“London Fog express!” He calls through. “Ew, this one’s gone a bit bad.” 

You hear him shifting around before the handle turns without give. He wiggles it and sighs. He huffs and you can tell by his shadow he’s leaning on the door. 

“Look, jellybean, I came all the way here, even burnt myself on this thing,” he says through the door, “you know, I’ve had some late nights...” he pauses as you sit silent, unmoving at your desk. “You don’t have to do more than open the door and take the cup. Promise, I won’t try nothing. I mean, I’ve been pretty patient, haven’t I?” 

You press your fingers to the edge of your desk to keep from shaking. 

“Right, I guess... I haven’t even introduced myself. How forgetful. Name’s Lloyd, but you could call me like L or love bear or... snookums. Something sweet like that.” 

You can’t. You’re going to pass out from absurdity. This man is psychotic. 

“You know, I’m a pretty handsy—handy guy. I could fix that water issue you got going on--” 

Holy cow. How does he know—how could he? He wouldn’t be able to just shut off your water. Right? 

“See, I get you, baby face, you’re the quiet type. You like to keep to yourself. That’s fair but everyone needs someone. I see that now,” he rambles through the door as it groans against his lean, “I didn’t before. Then I saw you and everything changed. It’s me and you, cupcake.” 

You stand and shudder, walking stiffly around the corner and towards the door. You step up and try to see through the peep hole. It’s still black. You exhale and sniff. 

“What do you want?” You croak. 

Silence. The door shifts as he takes his weight off of it. He soles scuff on the other side. 

“Hi,” his voice softens, “how are you, jellybean?” 

You close your eyes. You just want an answer. You cross your arms and rocks, a soothing gesture as your nerves bubble up. 

“Yeah, that’s okay, I know you’re not much of a talker. We balance each other out like that. I’m doing okay, you know? Cafe was a bit crowded but I got your latte. Foam shouldn’t have fallen yet so if you just want to open--” 

“What do you want?” You step closer to the door and raise your voice. 

He scoffs into a hum, “isn’t it obvious, babes?” 

You open your eyes and bit your upper lip. 

“You, baby cakes. Simple as that,” he drawls, “so why don’t you grab your tea and we can have a little sit down.” 

“Go away.” 

He huffs and clicks his tongue, “don’t be like that, sweetie.” 

“I don’t know you--” 

“I’m Lloyd, your love bear--” 

“Stop. I want you to leave me alone.” 

Another sharp exhale from the other side. A lull that prickles across your skin. 

“I can’t do that.” 

You wince, “please...” 

“All you have to do is open the door, jellybean. You know I’m a good guy. I’ve been looking out for you. Every night,” something drags down the door. “You can’t lock yourself away forever.” 

You step back and lean on the wall weakly. He’s delusional and you’re so tired. You’re almost tempted to open the door just to get it over with. You sink down onto your butt and hug your knees. 

“No.” 

That’s all you say. It’s all you can eke out.  

He taps on the door lightly and sucks his teeth. “Well, guess I gotta amp up my game.” 

[sandwitchstories]

Stress Relief

It's time for some more of Witch's smutty brain rot about Kyojuro Regoku! I can't help it lol These are the thoughts that have been going through my mind all week as I drown in meetings that should be emails.

Summary: Stuck in a remote meeting and have to miss your dinner plans? Never fear, Kyojuro knows just what to do to sate his hunger and lift up your spirits.

If you prefer to read on AO3, please click here!

(formerly titled Red String Of Fate)

WC: 2500+

CW: MDNI, Smut, reader is AFAB, AFAB terms used to describe reader's sexy bits, cunnilingus, blow job, it's filthy smut. lol Please click the AO3 link if you would like a more thorough list of CW.

The sound of the front door opening and closing made you glance at the time on the computer for the first time in… all day. 5:27pm. Shit. You and Kyojuro had plans to check out the new revolving sushi restaurant that had just opened down the street. You were supposed to have been off at 5 to be ready to go by 5:30, yet here you were with no end in sight.

You puffed up your cheeks and let out a slow breath, listening to one of the other attendants of the Teams hell you were trapped in drone on and on. Glad you were not on camera because you probably would have gotten fired for how many times you had face palmed during this presentation. 

Kyojuro came into the office and you flashed him an apologetic smile, pointing at your headphones and then the screen. You put a finger gun to your head pretending to pull the trigger and making a funny face at him with your tongue sticking out in mock ‘death.’ He chuckled and moved closer, bending down to cup your cheek and give you a gentle kiss.

“Going to be much longer?” he asked, kissing you one more time before straightening up.

“No clue… there’s still 3 more people presenting for different parts of this project. I don’t wanna be a grown up any more,” you dramatically whined.

“Poor thing,” he said, leaning down to cup the back of your head and kiss your forehead. “I’m going to get changed.”

“Okay,” you nodded, watching him walk away, frowning. You knew he was not mad. Just like you never got mad when he had to put in extra time at the school. You both had demanding jobs and were dedicated to your chosen paths. 

Still, you felt guilty as you knew he had been looking forward to this all day. So much so that he had sent texts throughout the day with screen shots of their menu items and his opinions on which ones you both should try. Trying new restaurants was one of your favorite things to do together. Everything was an adventure and experience when you were together. And you needed that so badly right now. Work was sucking the will to live out of you. 

You turned back to the screen, unmuting your mic to give your input when asked. You explained the benefits and the risks involved with the ideas presented so far. You voiced your concerns and answered questions as well. You put yourself back on mute and slumped back in your chair. 

Number 3 began his part of the spiel and you glanced at the clock again. 6:02pm. 2 more to go. If this mother fucker would start focusing more on work and less on pitiful attempts at humor, you may still be able to make it to the restaurant before it closed! You clasped your hands and said a little prayer to any deity listening that these people had lives they really wanted to get back to as well.

Unfortunately it would seem the Gods had abandoned you. Every. Single. One. It was now 7:03pm, Kyojuro had come in twice to check in, and there was still one more presenter to go. You wanted to punch your monitor and take a hammer to your laptop.  Why was life so cruel? You were hungry, tired, frustrated and just… over it. 

You stared at the ceiling as the last presenter began to speak. You put your head in your ands and groaned. This man… could not possibly speak slower. Was this some cruel cosmic joke? Some… delayed karma for something you couldn’t even remember doing? 

You picked up your phone to message Kyojuro only to have him come through the door, obviously on the same wave length. You gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. This is the last one now.”

“It is not your fault, I am not mad,” he smiled, giving you a gentle kiss. “How much longer do you think you will be? I will start looking for places still open, I do not feel like cooking and you look like you’ve had enough today.”

“So much so… but… Can we order in and watch tv instead?” you asked, not in the mood to go out anymore but agreeing with him that having to cook sounded like punishment right now.

“That… sounds wonderful, love. Works out better. We can try the sushi place this weekend and find something to do after. I’ll order some pizza and wings,” he said, placing another quick kiss on your lips before heading off to accomplish his task. 

You smiled after him. You had no idea what you had ever gotten right enough in your life to deserve such a wonderful other half. You would forever be grateful to the universe that it was Kyojuro Rengoku at the other end of your red thread of fate.

You turned back to the computer, a little relieved that sustenance would be coming soon and you did not have to leave your house. Maybe you could even convince Kyojuro to eat and watch TV naked in bed. That sounded like heaven. You just had to survive this Teams circle of hell.

A short time later Kyojuro came into your office, leaning against your desk. “About an hour for delivery.”

“Okay, thank you,” you gave him a thumbs up. “Even if this guy is not done in an hour, I’m done.”

He nodded, glancing at the screen. “No cameras today?”

“Nope, no cameras and on mute until spoken to so I am not accidentally heard speaking my mind,” you sat back in your chair, looking up at him. Gods, even in his sweats the man was so fucking hot. 

“Hmmmm, I see,” he rested his head on his hand in a thinking position. He muttered, as if speaking to himself, “Well, then that settles it.”

“What settles what?” you asked, arching an eyebrow up at your husband, curious about what was going through his beautiful mind.

“I am hungry now,” he stated, pushing your chair back a bit farther from your desk.

“Okay, and I need to be further back here because?”

He gave you what could only be described as an absolutely wicked grin. He leaned over you, bracing his hands on the arms of your computer chair. “Because, I am going to have my dessert first.”

“Wh-” 

He cut you off with a kiss. “Pay attention to your meeting. Don’t mind me.”

You jumped as you heard your name called in the meeting, fumbling for a moment with the mute button on your mic before getting it on and giving a generic answer as you gave your husband the stink eye. You had not heard a single word said in the last few minutes.

The Teams window flashing colors caught your attention as the presenter shared his screen. Dammit, you needed to actually pay attention now. 

Kyojuro glanced at the screen before adjusting your chair to be against the cold wood but turned to face away sideways from the desk. You could easily turn your head,  see the screen and reach your mouse. But what was he thinking?

You tried to keep your focus on the screen to the right of you, but in front of you your husband was getting on his knees. He leaned forward, his fingers gripping over the top of both your panties and leggings at the same time. He gave them a little tug and arched a prominent eyebrow at you, the gesture both asking if you wanted to proceed and making it abundantly clear that the dirty thoughts that had begun to form in the back of your mind were indeed the same as his intentions. 

You looked at him and made up your mind in an instant. You bit your lip as you lifted your hips a little off the chair. He grinned and got back to work. 

The second your bare butt was against the seat of the chair your name was called in the meeting. You quickly glanced at what was on the screen and formulated a reply. You said a quick prayer that your voice sounded the same as always.

He pressed your legs together and kissed up the seam between your thighs-  from your knees up your thighs to your hips, placing a tender kiss on your lower stomach before his hand slid up to the low cut collar of your tank top and pulled it under your tits, putting them at the mercy of his calloused fingers. He gave you a cheshire grin before pinching and pulling on your nipples until you covered your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Good girl,” he whispered against the skin of your belly.

The Teams meeting  might as well be white noise because 5 minutes have passed and you haven’t heard a single word. You are way too transfixed on the sight between your legs. Kyojuro now has both of your legs thrown over his broad shoulders, muscular shoulders and is mouthing at your thigh thisclose  you where you really want his mouth. 

He locks eyes with you. Your jaw hangs open slightly as he gives you a wicked smile before dragging his tongue between your folds. You quickly check that you are muted before you let out a shaky breath. He drags his tongue from the bottom over your slit up to the small bundle of nerves hidden from all eyes but his. He expertly circles your clit lazily, twice making a figure 8. His tongue is teasing your dripping hole when your name is called. 

You swear before you glance at the screen, relieved to see this is the final wrap up. Unfortunately that means a few minutes unmuted. 

“I’m going to be unmuted for a few minutes. We’re almost done,” you say quickly before joining the conversation.

The menace between your legs pauses, his tongue now just teasing your hole, his fingers digging into your hips a little harder. You see the look in his eyes. You feel yourself getting even wetter thinking about how hard he must be right now and that his big fat cock is all for you. 

He wiggles his tongue and arches eyebrow, thankfully pulling you from your ‘loading screen’  and asking if he should continue. 

You bite your lip quickly for a split second and then you’re keeping eye contact with Kyouro as you start to speak to your boss about setting up a meeting and simultaneously thread your hand in his loose locks, pulling his head closer to your cunt, wanting more, needing more.

You say goodbye and exit the meeting and Teams faster than you ever have before, flinging your headphones to the side. You double check you are no longer in the meeting and then let your full focus shift to the love of your life currently tongue fucking you now that he did not need to worry about how riled up he got you. 

You moan and sweat, burying your other hand in his hair as well, spreading your knees as wide as you possibly can, giving him access to anything and everything. One of his hands moves from your hip up your body to your mouth. The second your lips part he puts two fingers in. Your mouth automatically sucks them in. Your tongue weaving swirls around and in between, lathering it up with spit. 

You threw your head back and closed your eyes, crying out in bliss when those two spit slicked fingers moved up and down your slit before plunging inside. You were extra sensitive from how turned on you had gotten by his antics, and it was not going to take much to push you over.

Kyojuro added a third finger and switched to sucking harder at your clit while flicking his tongue back and forth. You fell apart, calling out his name and holding his head close, fluttering around and riding on his hungry mouth and strong hand. Your essence was coating his fingers, mouth and chin as well as the chair beneath you and you couldn't care less about the fabric. 

Kyojuro kisses both of your thighs gently, his fingers moving far slower than before as he worked you through your blissful haze. He smiled when your eyes finally met his gaze again. “There’s my girl. Feeling any better, my love?”

“So much!” you chuckled and ran your fingers through his hair. “May I return the favor, my flame?”

He glanced at his watch. “We have maybe 30 minutes.”

“Well, stand up,” you told him. You moved your legs off his shoulders, wincing briefly at the feeling of your hips unlocking from the position he had had them in. 

He pulled his fingers from your soaked pussy, pressing one more kiss to your mound before standing and sucking his fingers clean as he rose. And that sight only made you hornier. He leaned over you, smiling and kissing you more passionately than he had yet. 

His hands were on the arms of your office chair. “What next, my love?”

You grinned and pressed back on his chest until he was standing. You pressed the lever of your chair and dropped to the lowest setting. Your hands pulled down his pants and boxer briefs down to his midthigh. 

You locked your eyes on him. “Next, I have my share of the appetizers.”

You stroked and sucked on his cock, loving every inch of it and lathering it in spit. His cock was thick and long. You needed extra spit so you didn’t hurt yourself. And it just so happened that Kyojuro liked a sloppy blow job. His hands were threaded in your hair, holding the back of your head and guiding you up and down his cock. Your hands had taken residency on the sides of his, sexy as fuck thick, muscular thighs. Your nails were digging into his skin, leaving red crescents in their wake. 

He praised you with one hand gently brushing hair back out of your face while the other helped you keep rhythm. You looked up at him as you moved your hand to cup and gently squeeze on his sack. 

Kyojuro let out a delicious moan and started thrusting a little hard. Again… same reaction. A third time? You never did learn the easy way and before you knew it you were moaning as he fucking ino your throat. He was being cautious of how hard he was going, never wanting to hurt you, but he damn sure was feeling a bit… well feral, he supposed. 

Then you did something with your tongue on accident and it sent him into his sprint for the orgasm finish line. He called out your name as he held your head against him, cumming deep in your throat. He encouraged you not to waste a drop, and praised you when nothing remained on his cock by the time you released it from your mouth. 

He tucked himself back in his pants while you fixed your clothing. As soon as you stood up he wrapped you in his arms. You turned your face up for his kisses. 

You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him as close as you could. “I love you.”

He cupped your face and gave you that smile that melted your very being before kissing you back, slowly. He rested your heads together and replied,  “And I love you.”

[copperbadge]

What do you mean by digital cleaning?

It's something I've been working on more this year because I had a bit more travel than usual so couldn't do actual home cleaning, but I always take a couple of days in the Month Of Cleaning where I'm focused on my digital life. It's good to make your physical home a comfortable place for yourself, but it's also good to recognize that we have "digital" homes that need attention. And often this is at least less physically demanding, so it's good to keep it in your back pocket for days when you're mentally okay but physically too tired or sore to do more of that kind of work.

In the shortest possible terms, digital cleaning is just making sure that your phone, computer, socials, and other digital "presences" are organized in a way that you find helpful, and that you take a moment to either answer those messages you've been putting off or give yourself amnesty on doing so.

This tends to make a lot of people extremely anxious in a way ordinary physical space cleaning doesn't, so I'm going to put the rest of it behind a cut...

So when I say digital cleaning, I refer to stuff like going through my likes on Tumblr and clearing them out, going through my drafts and turning them into queued posts, answering my asks. I spend time in my email inboxes, either responding to messages or removing them. I am not an "inbox zero" kind of guy, but I like to keep the read-but-not-answered messages to a minimum, and towards the end of the year that usually means a clear-out and amnesty. I clean my Google Drive -- delete old files I uploaded for others, move documents I'm no longer using into an archive, move documents I want to work on into a central work folder. I go through my catch-all folder on my hard drive and organize it; I sort through the year's photos and organize those, partly to archive them and partly because I make a scrapbook from them each year. I don't usually have a ton of tabs open but often have more than I'd like, so I go through them all and either read, bookmark, or get rid of them.

I look in my phone's file tree to make sure I delete files I don't need (mostly menu downloads, Restaurants Stop Making Your Menus PDFs Challenge 2K24) and I sometimes go through each app on my phone, make sure I still use it, and make sure it's set how I want it. If this sounds like a nightmare, bear in mind that I very rarely put apps on my phone to start with -- I think my mother has more apps open at any given time than I have apps on my phone ever.

Everywhere I clean, I look for files named things like "notes" or "deal with" or "random" and move them all into one place so that whatever is in them, I can sort through it and make sure it goes somewhere permanent. Logins go in the login/password spreadsheet I keep, addresses go into my contacts, story notes go into a "fiction scraps" file, random thoughts either get moved into a journal file or put into drafts to become Tumblr posts, etc.

If this sounds like I might have some kind of compulsion disorder, I get that; when I explain my digital hygiene systems a lot of people look at me like I'm spouting a mad but harmless conspiracy theory. But it's something I used to have to do periodically even before I created National Clean Your Home Month, because otherwise I could never find anything, and everything was just...harder. As I once told a boss who admired my organizational skills, "It was this or endless chaos."

Putting addresses into my contacts list means I always know that the addresses I have for my friends are up to date. Putting logins into a spreadsheet means that five minutes spent now will not result in five weeks of procrastination later because I can't find the login and can't do anything else until I do that. Going through my email and archiving old conversations means not only can I find them easily when needed, I don't have to look at them the rest of the time. Sometimes I even go through my various wish lists and remove old/purchased items, or clear out all my "save for later" carts.

There's no doubt this is stressful, but like every part of NaClYoHo, it's broken down into smaller tasks; I don't have to look at my computer and organize everything on it all in one day. I can answer a few asks, then sort photos (something I find very soothing up until the moment I Don't), then read and delete some emails, then I'm done for the day. I can spread "answer or file all your work emails" out over a couple of days. I can maybe empty out my Likes but just turn the ones I actually want to reblog into drafts for now and deal with them later in the "drafts" phase of cleaning. And if I don't manage to empty out my inboxes, at least they're emptier than they were.

I'm struggling this morning with having put a bunch of physical cleaning on the to-do list but not feeling physically up for it, so I did what I felt capable of doing (measuring cabinets for new shelf liners mainly) and later today I might sit down and start building this year's photobook. Or not -- I have to code Radio Free Monday, sort out a prescription and possibly go pick it up, plus a very full day of work and a couple of afternoon appointments I can't shirk, so today may simply be a "get through the day" kind of day. That's okay too; some days the spirit is willing but the schedule is full.

[thesecretbits]

Chan went on Bubble, told people that he makes his own decisions, his own rules. People immediately get mad that he's defending the company and say he's lying.

And this is the reason why he's taken a break from Chan's Room. Because some of you people are insufferable no matter what he says or does. You talk about how open he is with the fandom, but when he gets on Bubble to defend himself (not the company) and the decisions he makes because the fans insist on treating him like a child who is completely controlled by the company when he has told the fandom more than once how much input and say in SKZ as an entity he and the boys have in the things they do.

He said in Bubble months ago that he was not doing Chan's Room for the foreseeable future because they are busy. And they have been, flying from one country to the next for performances, concerts, and festivals, while still recording music for the albums they keep putting out. Fans complain about it daily. You saw a ten second video clip. What was said was in answer to a question that I did not hear in any video clip is saw, was not an official statement, and lacked context. Yes, maybe the company should have put out a statement saying that Chan's Room is on hiatus until further notice once a couple of weeks became a couple of months, but Chan did tell you that and nothing he said about the reason he wasn't doing it is untrue.

You say the company isn't protecting him right now, but what you can't accept is that the company is protecting Chan, from the fans and all the backlash that ensued every time he did Chan's Room.

Every time he came on live, he had to wade through a slew of nasty, inappropriate comments. Fans would take clips of what he said, post them on the internet, he would get hate from antis, and then more people would show up in his comments telling him to off himself or call him vile, disgusting things. There were so many comments that were high key sexual harassment, a lot of them from his own fans. Fans would trauma dump on him, constantly tell him to speak English, constantly complain about him going live too late and how he should be sleeping as if he isn't a grown adult man, and bombard him with requests for other members to join him. He had to start only reading comments from the fan club community to try to weed out the sheer number of inappropriate ones, but people were mad about that because Bubble community is not open to everyone.

Chan's Room might be important to him, I'm not saying it isn't, but doing it every week and then having to watch and then deal with the fallout the next day must have been mentally exhausting. Some of the fans couldn't even chill out when his friend died, and he was obviously sad but still doing lives.

What about any of that says that Chan's Room is still a safe space for Chan? Why are we surprised that he's decided to take a break from that? Him wanting to connect with the fans the way he did when he was doing his lives does not negate the fact that doing so is mentally taxing.

Telling the fans that he makes his own decisions is not defending the company. It's defending himself. People telling the fandom to look inward and take some accountability for its actions is not defending the company. No one is defending the company. We're telling you that what you've been doing, something Chan has explicitly said does not help, and how you've responded to something that, so far, has not been officially stated is wrong. Stop mass emailing, stop sending trucks, stop being obnoxious under JYPE posts on social media. You just give antis even more fodder against the boys, and make the entire fandom look childish to everyone who knows Stray Kids and/or works with them.

Some of you fans really need to take a step back and reevaluate. Because some of you really take this parasocial relationship a little too seriously and use no critical thinking skills to navigate it.

[paradoxmimzy]

Shapeshifter HRT

Day -394

I go in to the doctor. Doctor T.H. Arian. The name is a little suspicious but his treatment of my wife has been favorable.

"I thought about this for a long time doctor. I want to be a shapeshifter."

His face gets serious. "Do you know how many people that come in here and ask for that? What do you really want to be? We do offer polytherian treatments if you just can't decide between a few."

So I list them. Every single one. Cat, dog, fox, mouse, snake, bird, hermit crab, angel, devil, elf, vampire, unicorn, hamster, ferret… and others… forms that don't have names but I describe their anatomy in great, sickening, detail.

"If I tried to go through all of them one at a time it would be too complicated. Too much for me to keep track of and what happens if I want to change into something I haven't listed yet? Please doc, if I had to be one thing it would be a shapeshifter."

He removes his glasses and sighs.

"There is a treatment for it." He says.

I can't contain my squeaks of excitement.

"But." He cuts me off. "The substance I'm using is a lot more controlled. I can guarantee the things that it will do to your body will be worse than what your wife went through."

"I still want it… If you got anything that basically makes me like Venom that would be ideal."

"Will you be changing into anything mechanical or robotic?"

"Probably not."

"Okay. I will put in the request now, but do not hold your breath. A government agent will eventually contact you and mail you the paperwork that you need to fill out."

- Day -96

6:21 in the morning. My phone was ringing and with my wife still asleep I answered it.

"Hello this is Officer Mitchell. I am here with Agent Duress. We're here to ask you some questions about this… medication you are requesting?"

My local sheriff, with some guy from the government. Great.

"Yeah I made a request sometime last year and hadn't heard anything."

"Yes, well. There had been some policy changes 150 days ago about the substance you're requesting. Everyone who filed a report had to do so again."

"And I'm just hearing about this now??"

"Your doctor had been informed about it two weeks ago and resubmitted all files that needed to be submitted. He requested we handle this urgently so that is what we're doing, ma'am."

"I'm not a ma'am. Please use Sir if you can."

"With all due respect, ma'am. You take this medicine it's going to turn you into something that I don't even want to think about. Gender ain't gonna mean much to a freak like you."

"I can still use whatever damn pronouns I want."

"Okay, okay. No need to be so sensitive about it. I just gotta sign this thing that says I'll keep an extra eye out for you if you decide to start doing crimes."

"Oh my god."

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to be everything all these stupid fucking things. Ferret, angel, hermit crab? Really? If any crimes are done from species in any of these lists you're gonna be on the suspect board by default."

"Fine. I'll consent to it."

"Alright, good. Next is understanding the exact risk of this substance. Has your next of kin been notified?"

"My wife is fully aware yes."

"Your parents, darling. I'm asking about your parents."

"Dad died 3 years ago and mom's never had custody of me. I am nearly 30 fucking years old, why are you asking about my fucking parents?"

"Standard procedure. Normally we have underage people asking for this stuff. So what age would you say you were dysphoric as a… 'Mono-formic being.'" He sounded out each word bitterly.

And so the questions went on and on and on and on and on. Until finally a voice different from the sheriff's came in.

"Thank you for your time. It will be under consideration."

And then it hung up.

"Ugggghhhh." I groan to myself.

"If you wanna go to the diner I could search for a shirt that fits me now." My cow wife says.

"It's fine. I'll just hang out on the internet. All I can do is fucking wait after all. From email or carrier pigeon I guess!!"

"Too loud."

"Sorry. I'm just mad."

"Do you think they hire pigeon therians into the government to carry messages?" She asks,

"Derpy Hooves is definitely a pigeon therian." I reply back,

"So true OP…" She yawns and slips back into sleep.

- Day 0

It was a text message. It was ready at the pharmacy and all I needed to do was go pick it up like any other medicine.

Doctor T.H. Arian gave me information on how to apply it and what to expect for the low dose they start me on.

He was very insistent I record my emotional state through this and that he would be prepared to stop the treatment if it made me 'worse.' Though he refused to define what worse was.

The medicine itself was just a little black goo in a bottle. I had been informed that it could be applied just on my skin, but that carried a risk to my partner and her own HRT procedures. So I opted for injection instead.

[wesawbears]

Cross posting here as well on A03, but here is my @aftg-mixtape gift for @foxywrites! I hope you enjoy!

Song was "Someone to You" by Banners, go listen!

--

It's a Tuesday when Neil gets the letter.

By all accounts, it’s a totally unremarkable Tuesday. He comes in from his morning run, hoodie pulled over his hair as the rain pounds the pavement with the same cadence as his feet. Neil wasn't personally so precious about his hair, but he could hear Andrew's voice in his head, telling him he was as bad as a dog, shaking water out all over the apartment. 

He smirks to himself as he snatches the mail out of the box, trying to shield the paper from the elements and failing miserably. He closes the door with his foot as soon as he's inside, throwing his hood down to get the wet garment off as soon as possible.

“Don't-”

“Shake my hair.” Neil flashes a grin. “I know.”

Andrew throws him an unimpressed look from where he’s curled on the couch in his pajamas. “Hmm.”

“You're just mad because the rain woke you up.”

“What was in the mail?”

Neil snorts at Andrew's obvious deflection and shrugs, tearing the envelope open with his teeth. “Dunno.”

He scans over the page quickly, not used to getting a lot of mail. Most of his information is sent to him directly by his publicist, who had been warned by Wymack that Neil couldn't be trusted to check his email. She's one of the four people whose calls he knows he has to take when he sees their names come up on his phone. Everything else still takes at least two days for him to remember to respond to. 

To anyone else, it would be a form letter, a quick piece of mail destined for the recycle bin. But Neil just stares at it.

“What,” Andrew repeats, more a demand than a question. He's sat up, face neutral but the line of tension in his shoulders makes it clear that he's curious of what Neil will do next, ready to pull him back from the edge if need be.

“It's a letter to renew my license,” Neil says simply.

Presumably, Andrew does the same math Neil just did. “Five years since you became a real boy.”

“Five years,” Neil echoes, still staring down at the paper. It's been long enough that his hand doesn't freeze on the page when he signs his name, that answering to it feels more like an automatic response than playing a part, but something about seeing it on such a boring piece of paper makes his breath catch.

You are going to be Neil from now until death.

He was Neil, and no one could take that away from him. When he first signed the piece of paper affirming that the jumble of letters on the page made up who he was, it had felt surreal, another dream that was held out to him but just out of reach. But now, it was the name on his lease, the name that displayed every time he took to the field. The name on the envelopes sent via mail forwarding to Andrew’s apartment every off season. It was his.

“Your reaction is what DMV employees dream about,” Andrew deadpans. “You should ask about a sponsorship.”

“Five years ago I wasn’t sure if I would be alive long enough to need to worry about things like this,” Neil answers. “I didn’t know if Ichirou would find me worth keeping around.”

Andrew’s jaw clenches at the mention of Neil’s deal, but he evidently decides against jabbing that wound for the time being. “Neil,” he says simply, letting it curl through the air. It’s matter of fact, but Neil loves the way his name sounds when Andrew says it, like it’s a fact as simple as gravity or the sunrise.

“Andrew,” he says back. He places the letter on the kitchen table, electing to join Andrew where he lounges on the couch. As he sits, he lets their legs press together, taking as much warmth as he can from Andrew while he’s still sleep warm.

“You need to shower,” Andrew says, but makes no move to push Neil away.

“In a minute.” Right now, he’s content to look his fill. Morning Andrew is a rare joy that only Neil really gets to appreciate.

He drifts off on Andrew’s shoulder, and neither of them move until the afternoon.

–

It takes a few weeks for Neil’s new license to come, after the annoying visit to the DMV to get the photo taken and fill out paperwork. When it does, Neil stares at it for a little too long, cataloging all the little changes that have happened in the last five years. It’s still him, just with a few more freckles, a little less glow. All around him, people are terrified of aging, but Neil relishes it. Wrinkles, the random gray hair from time to time, they all add up to something Neil never thought could be his. In its place is a different fear, the fear that comes from being a dead man walking for so long that he never imagined what the future could look like. Its a feeling he knows Andrew shares, the terrifying thrill of building something from scratch what had only been black and haze before.

The exy offseason isn’t long as a mostly year-round sport, but the summers are filled with him and Andrew and the road, getting in the Mas, picking a direction and driving until the sun is high in the sky. Driving with Andrew is as close to an answer to his questions that Neil feels he can get. There’s something about it that lets him live outside of time, where all that’s real is the next ten miles.

It’s one of those days that they stop at a diner in Kentucky, and Neil watches Andrew as he scrapes the toppings off a burger and mashes it together into some kind of burger salad, pouring hot sauce over it to top it off. 

“What do you think about your name?”

The question rolls off of his tongue, and Andrew just tilts his head, staring at the jumble of ingredients like they’re a magic eight ball.

“It is my name.”

“Yeah, but do you like it?”

Andrew looks up at that. “I did not pick it out. It is a collection of syllables.”

“You know it’s more than that,” Neil says. “You told me once I didn’t look like my father’s name.”

“You didn’t,” Andrew says. “You look like Neil.”

It’s not that Neil wants him to change his name. Andrew suits him. But Neil knows the weight that comes with carrying the legacy of a family you didn’t choose, one that didn’t know you the way they were supposed to. For him to carry the last name of someone he barely knew- someone he was responsible for the death of- seemed like a lot of baggage to carry.

“Why did you keep your last name?”

With anyone else it would be a rude question, but Andrew has never balked at bluntness. He does, however, dodge questions he doesn’t want to answer, and he half expects another non-answer. Andrew doesn’t lie about things that matter, but Andrew’s definition of truth is absolute. He had to pick his questions carefully.

“Too much paperwork.”

“Andrew,” he says. Like with the keys, Neil knows Andrew well enough by now to know that he’s avoiding a truth that hurts. Neil won’t rub salt in the wound, but he knows how badly Andrew had wanted to be a Spear, and what it had cost for him to give that up. Names meant you were someone, but they could also mean you belonged to someone. And the idea of any part of Andrew belonging to some unnamed person who left his mother, or to Tilda even in the grave, burned Neil more than he dared to say.

“It is not as though there is anyone left but me and Aaron.” He moves his fork around, stirring intently. “I didn’t care about my name. Before I learned I had a brother.” 

“And now?” Neil asks.

Andrew shrugs. “You hate your old name because you hated your father. I feel nothing toward Tilda. She was nothing to me.”

Neil cups his own cheek in his hand as he thinks. “For so long, I thought a name was a collar. But- it doesn’t have to be. You can belong with someone without belonging to them.”

“This is sounding more and more like a marriage proposal,” Andrew says, though his voice sounds curious rather than biting.

Neil shakes his head. “A marriage is just another deal.”

Andrew hums. “And taking someone’s name is known for being a strings-free attachment.”

“I didn’t say I wanted you to take my name. Just maybe that our names might go together.”

Andrew leans back. “You just renewed your license. Do you have some kind of paperwork fetish you never told me about?”

“I’m a math major, of course I do.”

Andrew huffs what Neil knows by now is a laugh. “There will always be more papers for you to sign your shiny name on then, junkie.”

Everyone called Andrew the possessive one, but Neil didn’t know what to call this itch below his skin, the desire not to keep Andrew for himself but for everyone to see that they fit and that Andrew was as permanent as Neil Josten. For Andrew to feel the same thing Neil did every time he put his name on paper.

To know that just as Neil had chosen himself, he had chosen Andrew too.

Andrew nudges his hand toward Neil’s, wrapping their pinkies together across the dingy table. “Names aren’t the only way to belong. I chose you and you chose me. Neither of us are going anywhere.”

It’s the certainty in his voice that calms Neil’s jackrabbit heart. There’s a part of him that leaps toward permanency, but Andrew is solid enough to remind him that he already has enough to hang on to. 

Neil smiles, and they enjoy the silence until the plates are cleared and the sun is Neil’s favorite shade of orange. As they leave, he lets a smirk take over his face. 

“How long do you think Kevin would yell at us for if we got tattoos?”

Andrew hums as he turns the ignition. “Might be interesting to find out.”

Three months later, Neil hangs up on Kevin at minute eleven. 

[ghostofasecretary]

ok, let's keep this quick

- so like. i haven't had a day with No Obligations since the 18th. that's 10 days. tomorrow and the day after i'm working. i need A Break because i am Tired

- aaaaaaaah grad schools why do people keep telling me i'm cool and promising and they're enthusiastic about me and then i DON'T GET MONEY (or. well. i turned a place that gave me money down because of a potential supervisor leaving)

- i have so many loose threads. emails unanswered for months. i spent a fuckload of money on some stuff with the intent to make it back and Have Not Taken Steps to do that which is crappy, actually!! feels REALLY BAD! all the time bad! bad for months!

- i fucking hate letting things fester and my whole day except for poetry and a text convo has been festering

- which feels like a microcosm of my fucking life. which is unfair, probably, but. ya rab

- i straight up just? dissociated almost all the time between 6:30 and 10am??? that's not great!

- my job is getting me money, yay, but it's part time and also i keep going wildly between "i am winning" and "i'm so miserably bad at this and probably no one wants to work with me i keep fucking up i hate myself" and "hey now stop beating yourself up" and boredom and misgendering and "Holy Shit Man I Hate Your Politics So Much but i do care about you as a person! so! guess some of the Christianity stuck!!! hahahahahaha fuck my life"

- i don't know if i can a) get a job and b) move in time to maintain the illusion that grad school worked out for me but 1) i need to move yesterday, i haven't hugged a friend since fucking January, and 2) i was really hoping August would work out and i don't want to work longer. my whole year has been "well maybe i'll get answers and know what i'm doing next month!" and by year i mean. since. like. december 2023. although Applying To Grad School sure ate all of my energy for a long fucking time. so i'd LIKE to get a job and move in late August/early September. but also holy shit man

- i feel some duty to myself to still apply for more grad school jobs but i haven't had a spare afternoon with emotional support since. like. the first weekend of June. (i have had mornings with emotional support (thanks babe)) but i have been mostly using those for homework (and fugue states of misery (sorry.)) so, like. aaaaaa??????

- i'm so mad and scared and also, like, i don't have TIME to be mad and scared, i'm behind on things and also this is my short and precious life! there's people to talk to and good food to eat and nice clothes to wear and fiction to read! i don't want to waste it being upset! i've been upset since 2022, basically, and i'm really fucking tired of it!!!

- what if nothing ever works out and i'm broke forever and rely on my parents like my sister does and am an even worse resource drain and they don't get to retire and I DON'T MEET MY SELF IMPOSED DEADLINE FOR. LITERALLY 40 MINUTES FROM NOW.

- and tomorrow i have/want to be fucking chipper at people! because goddamn it, i actually genuinely want people to have their days be a bit more pleasant from interacting with me and i like running a smooth ship! when i'm not making mistakes, which i make more of when i'm tired and upset!! gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

so. that's a lot of self-loathing and fear and frustration. uh. i don't know that this. resolved anything, aside from me saying the crazy out loud (and yes, i DO KNOW where the crazy is, but going "well don't be crazy" to myself is deeply unhelpful since it turns into another beating stick so. alas)

but i guess now i'll. work on my goals????

[cake-bread]

The Epilogue.

(one last DISCLAIMER: this is askblog for TBG Davey, not the actual Davey Wreden.)

I assume you have many questions - and after my response, you'll come up with even more. But I never planned to answer any of them.

I'm only telling a story.

Once TSPUD got announced, people have asked me if I'd remaster The Beginner's Guide. That question kept showing up, and I kept saying - 'Whats the point? The story is already finished.'

And then, I was asked again. And then, again.

And then - again.

At some point, I stopped responding. It was not due to being tired of repeating myself, but because I wasn't sure if the answer was still true. I felt there was nothing more to add, and enhancing the graphics would only take away from the experience. And yet, I knew there was so much more to the story.

I looked at all the game reviews, emails, and messages I could, realizing that this was it.

Feedback or The Cookie9 Phenomenon, if you want to call it that.

In a way, I suppose, I've always been my audience's Coda. The only thing that was different was no direct contact. After the enormous, very overwhelming response from the original TSP, I've been sparingly responding to any private feedback I've been receiving.

But the emails kept not changing. I do find the mails where I'm getting 'destroyed' or 'owned' very funny but that wasn't the case from the start.

So, I've wondered - how would these people react if they could see an effect of their own words? That it's not just something they spout into the ether but there's an actual person on the other side?

I wondered how could I bring this up without making a Skip Button Ultra Deluxe Edition. While games are interactive, you still have a barrier between you and the creator of the games.

Inspiration came randomly, during one panel I was listening to. Typically, a person would have a big speech followed by questions but that one particular instance was like 70% QnA. And at the end - I felt great! Maybe I couldn't give my own feedback in the sea of hands but there was something so charming about this being such a collaborative work. At the start, the performer said "you shape how the show will go" and even if it was obvious in that circumstance, to this day I remember it.

So, I've decided to make this askblog. But as I stated in it, in hidden clues - I'm fine at the moment! I'm happy where I stand as a creator and I had moved on from the past. That, however, wasn't always the case.

I'm lucky that I was mad enough to have many diaries throughout my life. I've written down so many of my reactions, thought processes and feelings, reading through My Files wasn't that much of an issue. And since I've already played as my past self once - I could do it again.

I will leave this askblog open but I won't respond to every message left for it as I've used to. I'll spare your time and write down some of the questions that you'll probably not get answers to:

"Was Coda ever real?", "Where the Twitter screenshot real and if so, what were Coda's thoughts and reaction to all of this?" "Were Coda's answer actually his?" or any other Coda-related questions like that,

"What are you working on now?", "Are you really fine?",

"What exactly inspired you in your life to do this now?", "Had a similar situation happened before?", "How did you deal with other Fake Codas?", "Will you one day answer our questions again?"

or anything TSP/TSPUD related,

because you're not entitled to someone's work or life.

And I won't light up your lampposts anymore.

Davey, out!

===

(Hi, it's me, @shinakazami1, the creator of this story. I'd like to thank everybody who spent their time to support this. I adore interacting with my own audience so this way of storytelling felt great thanks to you! My plan was to have something in the spirit of the original The Beginner's Guide in a form of an ask blog - small questions connected with themselves, telling a bigger yet short story that had already 'happened'. As Davey had said - you shape the way this could have gone. While the ending was predetermined from the start, Act 2 aka 'Coda's Askblog' was entirely up to you! For every post that you've asked Coda about something, I've already prepared a draft for the other blog. There were different versions of Coda and Davey planned. You've chosen Anxious Yet Assertive Davey and Angry but Weirdly Supportive Coda. I might talk about these more either in an edit of this post or on my Tumblr Blog, as I'd like to show a bit of a cut content :] While askblog Davey said he might not answer the questions mentioned - I might, so feel free to come and say your thoughts on this, your feedback, anything! I've myself been once again feeling stuck with creating, especially with drawing. But this project made me feel great, and it's all thanks to you. So thank you, Player. May we see each other another time. Toodle-pip!)

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Hi! I really liked your Nectar of the God’s oneshot with Wesker. Could you write Wesker with a buff reader, who’s surprisingly reserved and kind of shy while in his presence?

A/n: of course, hun. And I'm happy to hear you liked 'Nectar of the Gods'. Thank you so much. This is going to be strictly SFW since you requested it anonymously, so I hope you don't mind. Please enjoy.

Warning(s): slight manipulation, buff reader, RE4 remake Wesker, SFW, anxiety, gender-neutral reader.  

No Minors Allowed!!

The second the news reaches your desk, in the form of a time-sensitive email, you are quickly moved to a new location; all the while your nerves are eating at you. It's not every day, Albert Wesker requests your help. 

As you pass your peers heading to the elevator, all eyes are on you. It isn't the first time their stares unnerve you. Honestly, you should be used to it given your buff stature, but this time is different. 

People, men and women alike treat you as if you are the most intimidating creature on the planet. Their hushed whispers are infuriating at times, but at the moment you don't care. Because you are about to be in the presence of the one man who makes you nervous as hell. 

Taking the elevator to the upper floor where you have no jurisdiction, you are taken to a dark room with several large screens. In a chair in front of them is the man in question. 

"You asked for me, sir," you state softly as you hesitantly approach Wesker. 

He motions you to his side and briefly glances at you before he averts his attention again; you aren't sure where however as he's wearing his sunglasses. It seems like every time you see him, he has them on.

"From now on you are going to be assisting me in whatever I need," he explains. 

You nod sheepishly. 

"Y-yes sir."

But why does he need your assistance? Hundreds of others can do the same job. Perhaps he can sense how nervous you are around him. You've never spoken to him the few times you've seen him, choosing to stay out of his business. Though you have to admit, he is the most gorgeous man you've ever seen. 

"Do you find me intimidating?" Wesker asks suddenly. 

"It's not my place to say," you admit.

He doesn't seem to like this answer, tightening his jaw. 

"Very well."

For the next few days, you work side by side with Wesker, patching in calls and getting him coffee whenever he needs it. You don't speak unless spoken to, which seems to please him, but sometimes it feels like he tries to unnerve you, asking personal questions about yourself. It's not relevant to the job, but he knows about your interest in working out and keeping a healthy body. 

The chats are brief, but you find that you somewhat enjoy them. It's not until the job is over do you see him in a darker light. 

Hearing a loud crash, you rush into the surveillance room which Wesker often inhabits to see one of the screens cracked; the keyboard is in pieces on the floor a few inches away and Wesker is clutching his fists in rage. 

You've never seen him mad before. His temper is usually masked with an air of superiority that at times frightens you.

Standing at the back of the room in silence, you watch him hover over the desk in front of the broken screen. Its flashing light casts an eerie yet beautiful halo around the devious man. You have no idea what warranted this. 

When he stands and fixes his disheveled hair, he seems to notice you.

"Your services are no longer required," he mentions. 

Sauntering toward the door, he pauses a moment and then glances at you again. 

"Do you take pride in your career here? Of being a dog on a leash?"

"As much as everyone else, sir," you utter.

It's a lie, but considering who Wesker is, it's best to make him believe you do. However, the grin on his face tells you that he knows the truth. Your face turns red as he approaches you. 

"Then perhaps we can work something out," he states. 

You hum. What does he mean? 

Tracing his warm fingers up your bicep, you shiver from his touch. He's gentle with you when he doesn't have to be. 

"I asked before if you found me intimidating," Wesker mentions. "And you refused to answer me."

Of course, you did. For obvious reasons. 

"It's not my–"

Wesker interrupts you with his finger, pressing it against your lips. 

"Do you…find me intimidating?"

Removing his finger, he leans forward and gives you a brief kiss that makes your body grow tense. You aren't sure what to do, so you close your eyes and press your lips against his.

Wesker parts first and hums. 

"Your innocence is intoxicating," he utters.

With a satisfied look, he saunters toward the door, but your broken voice stops him. 

"I do," you mention, regarding his question. 

"Don't," Wesker orders. "Or else working with me shortly is going to become unbearable."

Your face heats up in response. It's a terrible idea to continue working for him, whatever his plans are, but so far, your career choice hasn't been too good either, so what harm can it do? 

"Yes sir."

Wesker grins.

Is this a mistake? Only the future will tell. 

[bloomingpresent]

Ferro Rosso Chapter III

Pairing: Charles Leclerc/Female reader digital artist older woman

Summary: on your mids 30’s you never imagine you’d be divorce. To help with the healing process you decide to return to you first love: digital illustration. Posting videos of your art online leads you to work for Ferrari. But you never thought it’d lead you to find somebody that’s going to bring you back to trust again in love.

Warnings: Mention of sex. Swearing. Older woman with a younger man. They are both adults people, don’t be judgemental. 

Notes: This take place this past test week in Bahrain. Charles gave me some good moments to use as inspiration. All these chapters were mostly about y/n / reader's POV. I'm getting into Charles's pov in the next ones.Photos are from @dailyleclerc Thank you for those. Every situation in this it's there for a reason, work with it. Send me an ask if there is somethin special you'd like to read. Let the drama begins! Enjoy

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language. All mistakes are my own

Ferro Rosso Chapter I (Teaser)

Ferro Rosso Chapter II

You left for London the next day. The vivid memory of the night before hunted you. Mainly because now you were curious about what could have happened if you stayed. All thought you were convinced that what you did was ok and it saved you and Charles some awkward moments.

He never contacted you either. You took it as a sign, that night was just that for him as well.

The week after the art piece that you made for him was scheduled to be delivered. Your agent Sarah called you to let you know that the piece was being packed. You rushed to her office to personally make sure that everything was ok. It was your first artwork after all. Once it was packed you slipped a note inside the package. “It’s just a thank you note to my first client”. You tell Sarah.

A week later the art piece should have arrived to its destiny days ago. No word of Charles about it. The days had flown by fast as you were so busy with your new blooming art studio, your agent did a good job finding clients for you. Sailing for a high-profile client like Charles did well for you. You had to admit that. 

Still no word of him. You are not sure why, but you decided to send him a text, just a cool casual message to see if everything was ok with the art piece.

“Hey, I don’t know if you had the chance to see the art piece. It arrived ok?” you sent him.

You let your phone aside and continued with your day. A few hours after you checked it, the message was delivered and seen, but there was no response. Oh shit, it’s happening. The ghosted has begun. Or maybe he was too busy, the testing week it’s in a couple of days, the whole f1 army is heading to Bahrain, and maybe he wasn’t even home. Either way the no response was a response itself. So you let it be if he replied ok if not, there is nothing you could do. But you’re sure as hell that you weren't going to make any effort on trying to contact him again.

You were too busy anyways.

That night your agent calls “Go to the link I just sent via email now! you need to see this” she says right after you pick up. You had your laptop with you so you opened your inbox right away “Ok I’m on it, everything ok?” you ask her. “Just watch,” she says and hangs up.

Her answer takes you by surprise. As the link opens you realize it’s a twitch streaming link. And there he is, Charles, being interviewed by an internet company, and at the back wall, your artwork, fully displayed for the world to see. You smiled widely, feeling proud about it. You start to hear the interview about various subjects and then you realize he did get the piece, he did read your message, he must read the note you sent with the piece and still he didn’t contact you. And that was it, you now know he doesn’t want to be in contact with you anymore. You were just that, another woman on his list. You aren’t mad about it, it’s what’s expected from a sports celebrity like him. You're a little ashamed of yourself for giving in to him so easily, but you're both adults and you know the consequences of your actions. That's it, you'll turn this page. Luckily you don't have to see him anymore for a while.

Fuck your luck! The Friday before test week in Bahrain, Ferrari submitted you.

The email was clear "The entire creative team is requested to report to Bharein for the week of testing. Social media strategies will be outlined and tasks distributed for the remainder of the season. Details of flights, accommodation, and other logistics are below".

The trip itself sounds exciting. You have never been in the paddock before, not even in Bahrain. It will be a fantastic opportunity for your work inside and outside of Ferrari. You’ll have to meet again. Charles will surely behave as professionally as ever, and more so with all the press and co-workers around. And you plan to do the same. Any vestige from that night is already in the past. The plan is perfect: avoid him at all costs, only if it is absolutely necessary to have contact with him. That was your brilliant plan.

Bahrain is all exotic to you. From the language to the architecture, the culture, the food, everything. So you couldn't be more excited to be there. Armed with your work tools. Totally determined to focus on your work.

The first day was everything to settle in the hotel room. Meet up with some teammates.

For the first morning of practice at the circuit everyone was present. Everyone, including the pilots. Including Charles.

You didn't need to be in the garage specifically so you did your best to stay in the hospitality area, away from any path that might cross you with Charles.

But you couldn't avoid Carlos in the parking lot. "What are you doing here?" He was surprised by you when he saw you dragging your equipment. He quickly helped you with your things.

"I know, right? If Ferrari didn't need me, I'd be in London in my studio, believe me," you answer as they walk to the entrance with his girlfriend and his manager.

Once they provide your identities and enter the circuit, he introduces you to his girlfriend and his manager. "So you're going to be here all week?" Carlos asks.

"Yes, it seems that way" you reply as you hurry to your first meeting of the day.

"Someone's going to be happy," he mutters under his breath as he raises his eyebrows. He clearly knows something.

Your heart stops at the first hint on the topic "What?" You respond calmly trying not to show how uncomfortable his expression made you.

"You'll see" he answers, laughing and walking to the opposite side that you are going, in the direction of the hospitality area, not allowing you to ask another question.

Great! Carlos knows. What a gentleman Charles has turned out to be, you think to yourself. If he told Carlos, who knows who else he told? Now you are upset.

Even though the morning is all about work, you can't get what Carlos told you out of your head. Who else knows? You don't want that to interfere with your work. That is going great by the way.

The first to test that day in the morning is Carlos, and the whole team meets at the side of the circuit to take pictures of the car on the track. You don't have to be there, but you go anyway to see for yourself what a car, from the company you work for, flies on track.

It's quite a press commotion when each driver steps into the pitlane. They all go through there. And you get used to the movement of people. 

During the morning you notice the flurry of cameras when Charles arrives. He goes straight to the track engineers. You can see him in the distance, almost certainly he doesn't see you. And you try to stay out of his sight.

The morning passes, and everyone goes to lunch. If there is one thing that you like, it is to have a quiet lunch, without telephones, without computers. Just you and your food for a few minutes. You go somewhere outside the hospitality area, sit and enjoy your lunch in the sun, watching people walk by. Enjoying the moment. When you finish, you return to the hospitality area, but not before verifying that Charles is not there. Everything is going well.

When the afternoon tests are about to start, your team leader asks you to be the one to go to the garage to take pictures of Charles. The rest of the team is assigned to edit the morning images. How can you refuse? You have no excuse. Being the new one on the team you can not refuse either.

You take a deep breath as you walk to the garage. Everything will be fine, you are a professional doing your job and so is he. You'll kindly greet everyone and do your job.

When you get to the garage the mood is not the best. Apparently, Charles' car is having problems on the track and everyone is listening to his comments on the radio. Someone hands you your headphones to listen to the radio. There you are dressed in your Ferrari uniform holding your camera.

Charles is giving opinions and technical comments on the car. He doesn't sound very happy. In fact, he is quite upset.

When you hear the team tell him to go to the pits your heart starts to beat fast.

When the car arrives and the mechanics start to put it in the garage, you put the camera on your face and start taking pictures. Maybe behind the camera, he doesn't recognize you.

When he gets out of the car he doesn't say much, he just goes to the back of the garage. You don't follow it too closely, you just take pictures from a distance. When he takes off his helmet and starts talking to an engineer, you can see his upset face through the camera lens.

He talks and talks to his engineer as he looks around the garage.

When he sees you, he stops, he seems to recognize you. He stares at you but continues talking to his engineer. At that moment a mechanic passes in front of you and you have to take off your face camera.

Now he can see you. You hesitate to look at him again but do so anyway. You look at him and try to smile. He instead says something to the man in front of him. The man turns and he looks at you.

Charles doesn't stop looking at you while he talks to him, he's not happy to see you.

You think that he is not being professional at all. At least it seems like he's not handling the fact that you're there very well. But don't worry too much, you can be there, it's your job, he can't do much about it.

You continue at work, taking photos of him, of the car, of the mechanics. Everything your leader asked you to do. Totally ignoring what Charles is saying or doing.

After a few minutes, another man approaches you, and you recognize him as Charles's performance trainer/assistant.

"I'm sorry but I'm going to have to ask you to leave the garage," he tells you, he seems embarrassed to ask you. "I know you're allowed to be here, but now is not a good time for this," he tells you, pointing at your camera.

You immediately look at Charles, who is further back, taking off his shoulders the racing suit. He's staring at you.

"I'm just doing my job," you reply, turning your attention to the man in front of you.

"I know, I'll explain it to your boss, don't worry" he answers, trying not to speak too loud.

You take a deep breath annoyed, you know it was asked by Charles. He is definitely not being professional.

You turn around and start walking toward the back of the garage, you walk past Charles, who keeps staring at you. When you walk past him you look into his eyes, now you're mad at him. He doesn't answer your messages and now he is interfering with your work.

Your look is more than enough to let him know that everything is not ok.

You walk past him and head to the back hallways of the garage. You're muttering annoyed. Who does he think he is? He is not your boss. Your thoughts go through your mind at thousands of miles per hour. Making you mad. 

When you are going through the corridor farthest from the garage, you feel a hand grabbing your arm, making you stop.

You look at the hand, the arm, and find Charles. Red eyes and sweaty. He pushes you into a corner against a wall. "What are you doing here?" he whispers, looking around.

"I'm doing my job" you answer looking into his eyes and trying to remove his hand from your arm.

"In the garage? Do you have to be here in the garage?" He says he approaches your face. You can feel the heat of his body having him so close.

"Yes, my boss sent me to take the photos, I'm doing my job Mr. Leclerc," you tell him ironically. You keep trying to remove his hand from your arm.

He grabs you firmly by the forearm "I don't want you there" he says even closer to your face.

He looks upset, his eyes are in flames, you don't know if it's because of anger or he's just tired.

"It's not your decision" you answer taking his hand with yours and trying to remove each finger from your forearm "This is very professional of you Charles," you say looking into his eyes, now you are challenging him. It's not just about what just happened, it's about everything that happened before.

He moves a few inches away from your face at your response "And who makes the decisions? You?" He shows a wry smile.

You clench your jaw trying to control yourself "Stop before we both say things we don't have to say to each other. We barely know each other. Please let me do my job."

He keeps his gaze on yours as if analyzing your words.

 You can't guess what he's feeling. Anger? Annoyance?

Some voices are echoing in the hallway. You two look towards where the voices are heard.

"We'll talk about this later, okay?" he asks in a hurry, separating from you.

"I don't think so" you answer

"Oh yes, yes, you and I are going to talk," he tells you, pointing to the space between you and him and walking back towards the exit.

Before leaving he looks at you one more time. He leaves you fuming in anger. 

The day goes on anyway, and you don't think about wasting time thinking about what happened in the garage. You don't think about crossing paths with him either. At the end of the day, everyone prepares to go to their hotel. You gather your things and head to the parking lot for your car, practically dragging all your things. You are already calmer on the subject, you have not had time to think about it much. You arrive at the parking lot, and there are people around leaving but everyone is so tired that nobody pays much attention to the others. When you're getting to your car, you look for the keys in your wallet.

Someone gets out of the driver's seat of the car next to you. "I thought you were never coming out," someone tells you. You turn around scared to see who he is. "What the hell are you doing?! You scared me Charles!" you almost drop all the things you carry in your hands.

"Sorry, I was waiting for you," he says approaching you to help you with the things you carry.

You take a step back away from him "I really don't think it's a good idea" you answer.

"We can do this out here in front of everyone or we can get in the car and talk quietly," he tells you looking into your eyes and pointing to his car. You just look at him and nod grumbling. He takes your things and helps you load everything into his car.

Once inside the car and you close the doors. You cross your arms over your chest, you feel very vulnerable right now.

"Sorry about today, I wasn't having a good day," he tells you looking straight ahead through the window.

"It wasn’t my fault, I was doing my job" you reply.

"I can't believe what you're telling me" he answers annoyed and turning to you "You leave in the middle of the night without saying anything and you think that I won't have anything to say to you when we meet again, you're incredible y/n," he says ironically.

"I made it easy for both of us Charles. It would be awkward for both of us if I stayed" you answer looking at him, you really think you did the right thing.

He narrows his eyes not believing what he's hearing “You made it easy for both of us?! Is that what you think?!” He slams his fists on the steering wheel “Can you explain to me why you think it would be uncomfortable?” He asks you.

"It was just sex! I saved you the time of doing the whole speech. I'm a grown person, I know how this works" you reply.

"My God! You really don't know me to talk like that. But if you think it's the right thing to do, so be it. I'm also a grown person who knows how things work, but I'm not rude. I would have said goodbye." he answers. His hands clinging to the wheel.

His words surprise you. You look out the passenger window. You think for a few seconds in silence. Deep inside you know he's right. He is right. And you hated that.

You look forward, uncrossing your arms "You’re right, I was rude. I'm sorry, I think I panicked. I'm not used to doing that" you answer looking into his eyes. And for the first time, you admit to yourself that you did not act well.

Charles takes a deep breath and releases his hands from the wheel. "Okay, I understand."

"I don't want this, I don't want things to get tense between us, especially now that we work together, we'll see each other often, and I'm really not used to these things," you say looking at your hands that are on your legs. "I'm old school," you tell him, smirking.

He smiles relieved. "I don't want this either, it wasn't that bad that night was it?" he asks you with a mischievous smile.

He smiles at her "Not at all." You answer, both look into each other's eyes. He seems to be sincere with you.

"You didn't try to talk to me either" you tell him playing with your car keys between your fingers.

"I was upset, what did you want me to do?" he tells you in a low tone "I thought you didn't want to hear from me."

You nod "Okay, I deserve that." You look up to meet his eyes.

The two look at each other for a few seconds. Neither of you are sure what to do now.

"I have to go to the hotel" you finally tell him. "We have a few days full of work ahead of us."

"Yes" he says smiling. "Are we okay with you and me then?"

You let out a laugh "Yes, we are" you tell him feeling relief. "Friends?" You extend your hand in a kind of peace pact.

He shakes his head to both sides as a sign of doubt "Maybe friends who work together and have sex would be better?" he tells you shaking your hand.

"My God, that sounds dangerous" you both shake hands laughing.

"It doesn't have to be, we just have to be careful" he says.

"I don't think it's a good idea, Charles," you tell him, realizing that it will be a roller coaster of emotions that you don't know if you can handle if you accept.

"Are you telling me you don't want any more of that?" he tells you taking your hand to his lips and kissing it softly. He knows what he is doing. And you know the effect that can have on you.

You bite your lips at the sensation that a simple contact causes you. "Go slow, we could crash" you reply caressing his lips with your thumb.

He just stares at you while you do it.

He gets closer to you a little, waiting for your reaction. You close the space between you and him and press your lips against his. You inhale deeply as you feel the warmth of his lips on yours. He takes your chin in his hand and presses his face into a deep kiss. All the tension between the two seems to vanish with that kiss.

You open your mouth allowing access to his tongue. Both enjoy the taste of the other in their mouths.

The kiss lasts a few seconds. You both are aware of who can see them.

When you separate, you both open your eyes, a barrier seems to have been broken. A barrier that you don't know where it will take you, but you want to experience that path.

"We have to go, we have a hard day at work tomorrow," he says.

You savor that kiss on your lips and accept. "Yes work, that's why we're here"

He settles in his seat and starts the car "I'll take you to the hotel, I'll send someone to pick up your car"

You also settle in the seat while you fasten the seat belt.

A few blocks before,  both agree that you will walk to the hotel not to arouse suspicion. The journey is not long, but the atmosphere between the two is much more relaxed than before. And you talk about various things along the way.

"Wait! You said something to Carlos right?" you tell him before opening the car door.

"That bastard can't keep his mouth shut" he answers laughing "I didn't tell him anything, he doesn't know because I told him. But don't worry, nobody else knows" he assures you.

"I'm going to kill you if you ruin this for me Charles" you warn him, you're enjoying your new job and you don't want to ruin it.

"I won't, don't worry, it would be a mistake for both of us" he reassures you.

"Okay," you say opening the car door and carrying your bags and backpack. "I'll see you at the track then," you tell him getting out of the car.

"Goodbye, friend that I have sex with," he tells you, giving you a wink.

"You're a dork," you tell him laughing as you close the door.

You walk a short distance to the hotel. You feel more relieved that things have been cleared up. And a little excited about what can happen in the future.

There is not much else to do in the hotel that night. Just dinner and sleep. You have to get up early tomorrow.

The alarm goes off at 5.50 am. Getting up is not easy, these are intense days for everyone.

Your team agreed to have breakfast together at 6.30 am at the hotel.

Everyone meets as agreed in the hotel breakfast room. Each part of the team is already preparing to go to the circuit.

You are drinking your coffee with the others when one of your co-workers nudges you "Guess who didn't sleep much last night?" she tells you under her breath looking towards the entrance of the room.

You look at her not understanding what she is talking about, she just signals with her eyes toward the door of the room.

Charles is entering the room accompanied by a girl, she is holding his hand as they walk towards the buffet breakfast table.

Your heart sinks when you realize what is happening.

Of course, he is with someone! How could you be so naive?

Please reblog if you like it

[novvaable]

Get to Know Me- Sims Edition

thank you @hurricanesims for the tag <33

sorry for taking so long to reply, for some reason it took me ages to actually answer these questions🤠

What's your favourite Sims death?

i hate when my sims die.. i can honestly say i’ve never forcefully killed any of my sims as I get so attached to them. in this case, id probably say death by old age.

Alpha CC or Maxis Match?

alpha! back when I used to play ts4 i gravitated towards maxis match.

Do you cheat your sims weight?

seems pointless to me lol

Do you use move objects?

yes!🫡🫡 impossible to build /decorate without it

Favourite Mod?

nrass master controller - it so universal and makes life a lot easier 🥺

First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack?

my first expansion was university life. it will forever have a special place in my heart, I love it so much

Do you pronounce live mode or aLIVE or LiVing?

never even thought about it honest, probably like alive??

whos your favourite sim that you've made?

my girlie marcie, she’s come so far with me so I just have a special kinda attachment to her lol

Have you made a simself?

no i think this would just make me miserable

Which is your favourite EA hair colour?

none. I always find the tones of ea hairs to just be a little off? i just use custom colours

Favourite EA hair?

well i dont use any EA hairs they look ugly I have default replacements hairs by maryjane

Favourite life stage?

young adult

are you a builder or are you in it for gameplay?

only recently have i been in it for the gameplay. but i use that phrase lightly. i wil forever be a builder at heart.

Are you a CC creator?

barely lol. sometimes i post occasional things for dl. my knowledge of cc making only scratches the surface. i can do the basics like make poses, and custom photos (alongside sims and builds - but who doesnt).

ive tried to get into cc making a couple of times but its so complicated? i have mad respect for cc makers in the community. ill leave that job to the professionals.

Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad?

back in my day... lol not so much anymore. after i took a fat hiatus a lot of the people i used to regularly talk with moved on.

@pixelevia is still my girlie. she doesnt post much, but we talk all the time off tumblr and regularly get each other excited about sims storylines that are yet to come to life lol.

Do you have any sims merch?

yes.. i am embarrassed to say that when ts4 was release i pre-ordered the deluxe version. it came with a mouse pad.. its long gone now. but i always remember it having a funky smell ??

also i dont wanna talk about the fact i paid an arm and a leg for ts4 (i dont even play it?!) and now its free. forever going to be salty over this fact.

How has your ''Sims Style'' changed throughout your years of playing?

i'd like to think it has! considering my blog is old, i feel like it has grown with me and that reflects in the style of my sims. recently ive been striving for a slightly more realistic looks to my sims

Whats your Origin ID?

i do have an origin id unfortunately. (is it stil even called that?)

i have a lot of opinions on this new ea app bs. but we wont go into that.

Who's your favourite CC creator?

everyone! honestly anyone who has the skills to be able to make beautiful and functional cc are brilliant.

but just to name a couple:

@rollo-rolls

@smallsimmer

@martassimsbook

@sourlemonsimblr

@satellite-sims

How long have you had simblr?

I had to check my email for this.. as of feb 2023, my blog turned 9 years old?! so I guess almost 10 years. (thats kind of mad)

How do you edit your pictures?

depends on the picture! usually for scenery pics I will just sharpen them and adjust the brightness / saturation / contrast.

for sim pics it really just depends on how bothered I can be.

I’ve recently made the change to gshade so that’s been doing all the heavy lifting for me.

I use hunnybee’s moon syrups preset <3

What expansion/ stuff pack is your favourite?

university life!! it was the it was the first expansion pack i got and so it holds a special place in my heart. its also a pretty awesome pack too.

tagged:

@satellite-sims / @smallsimmer / @pixelevia @kitty-pixelz

[kyra45]

If there’s one thing I’ll never really understand, it’s why scammers spend years stealing fundraisers and using them to get money in dishonest ways and then instantly get really angry when someone starts to call them out for it at some point. I mean, you’d think they’d sorta figure out by now that I know where their content is coming from because I pretty much went there myself in order to be more effective at providing proof their stealing someone else’s fundraiser. They post the content pretending their that person and within a few searches I’ll generally find proof they aren’t. Sometimes it’s from somewhere else and I won’t be able to find it. This only works for their pet posts and general posts are not as easy to locate even when searching around.

The scammers are getting money by stealing someone else’s name and not even telling people they aren’t actually the owner of the pet they claim is their own. There’s irony in getting mad at people who get money in honest ways while they themself get money by deception and lying to anyone they find sharing popular tumblr posts. They send asks to everyone they see and always tell people to answer it privately or send them a message it they’d prefer that.

And even when messaged, the scammers will still lie and make up information that they don’t know in order to still get money off of people who sometimes don’t know that scams like this are unfortunately a very common occurrence and have been happening long before I ever started documenting it. Scammers have even stolen fundraising posts for those who passed away and pretended that the one who passed away was actually their relative when all they did was just take the post and change some stuff up and call it a day.

You see, these scammers are likely just one person who doesn’t mind using multiple email addresses and support links to get their funds so even when one account is took down they’ll come back under a new one. When someone comments with any hint of suspicion or concern regarding legitimacy, the scammers will quickly delete the comment/reblog and block the user in an effort to hide any sign of suspicion that their not telling the truth. Now if they were honest, and the comment wasn’t rude or mean in any fashion, why would they hide it? It’s because they don’t want anyone seeing the comments that are saying their a scammer. If someone answers their ask calling them out, they block that account.

Perhaps even more noticeable proof that their not being honest is that, without fail, anytime they see a post with their url in it calling them out they’ll change the url several times over in an effort to evade detection. Which surely, by now, they’d realize is kinda pointless when they send out so many asks and all their posts will update to say it. Sometimes they’ll deactivate then come right back hours later using the exact same post to they had before with the same exact content they were using on their other blog. You’ll tend to notice this pattern after busting scam posts for a while.

Basically, scammers have so much free time in the world they’ll waste it by coming over here and get mad at like three different people who have spent a while proving their just stealing posts. And this has been a long post explaining just some tips on how scammers work.

[japanesedoramaandanimelover91]

15 January:

Good morning, everyone.

Hey, listen.

I was driving down the road and there were a lot of people around.

I found someone i was close to within seconds.

Is that possible? We were both laughing so hard.

I couldn't help but take a picture of him, lol.

(I'm asking if i can use the picture now, but haven't heard back yet).

Our eyes met in the hustle and bustle of Tokyo and it was a blast of a love affair.

The reality is this.

16 January:

Good morning, everyone.

It's a shame that Katsumi Takahashi's picture alone has racked up over 13 million views lol.

What, wait a minute? It's cold. Outside.

I was driving so hard i started screaming.

The world is a little different now.(repost of Yuichi Nakamaru's tweet).

17 January:

Good morning, everyone.

I had to open this because i wanted to write something.

I forgot what i was going to write. Scary.

Checking emails, answering emails and taking a little time to myself.

18 January:

Good morning, everyone.

Bang!!!

Oops, oops, i didn't ask you to compose like that.

I think a photo of me was posted by Kikuchi Fuma, on his instagram page.

19 January:

Good morning everyone.

Fuma. I get it.

It was a huge success

I'm really hilarious!

I heard you say it a little awkwardly, lol.

I'm glad you liked it, right?

(Don't get mad already!)

I'm getting drunk.

Good night.

20 January:

"Actually, i was already with Ninomiya-san. Good.

Have they given me a lift before? I listened to him,

"I used to be a lorry driver and drove Arashi sets all over Japan!"

Surprise. Surprise.

I've travelled before, even if it was there!

I thought it would be about the same, lol.

But why are you a taxi driver now, i asked.

When i got out, he said: "Please let me drive you again!

Hearing that made me feel good.

[Breaking News.

Shunsuke Kazama-pon seems to have thawed out.

21 January:

Good morning, everyone.

Well, i slept in, i slept in.

If you have time, please watch it!

By the way, i came here for no reason, lol.

22 January:

Good morning everyone.

I thought i was being watched, and when i looked back, it was me.

Thank you very much for being by our side and following us closely after the interview.

And as of today, i'm joining Sport Hochi.

We will publish it within three days.

Thank you for your help!

I'm being watched again...

I thought i was looking in a completely different direction.

23 January:

Good morning, everyone.

However, being on the front page two days in a row is something that will never happen, no matter how bad life gets.

I can only express. Only my gratitude.

24 January:

Good morning everyone.

I have never experienced anything like this before.

In January, Ninomiya realised once again that he was living thanks to the help of many people

Of course, this has always been the case. This is the environment in which I work and yet keep in touch with many people.

I am very grateful for such an environment.

(No, i can't wait to find a manager).

25 January:

Good morning, everyone.

We are very happy to announce that #Yoninojourney #1 is now in the fastest growing ranking!

Thank you to all of you!

Thank you all so much!

26 January:

Good morning, everyone.

27 January:

Good morning everyone.

I feel like Kazama-pon and feel like Roland at the same time.(repost of Kazama Shunsuke's tweet).

I realised when i was told about it.

I thought i had done it.

I wasn't following you.

28 January:

Good morning everyone.(2 times).

Thanks to all of you, we can play again!

Thank you!

In the end, Nakai Masahiro is the best.

29 January:

Good morning, everyone.

30 January:

Good morning everyone.

It's been so long...

It's so fast. In the blink of an eye.

I'm about to get the letter packet out.

I feel like i'm living a normal life when everyone tells me they're going to send me a packet of letters and asks me to go lol.

Yes. It was a date.

31 January:

Good morning everyone.

Is this happening?

I thought that only in my next life would i be able to do a regular show with Nakai-san.

Thank you all!

Please support us in our desperate endeavour not to be left behind! LOL!

Why can someone from Nakai immediately follow him?

Why can't Kazama Pon do that?

1 February:

Good morning everyone.

Today's Asobo location with Nino.

2 February:

Good morning everyone.

The person who can finish preparing the evening meal in the morning.

3 February:

Good morning everyone.

4 February:

Good morning everyone.

Suma.

So it's only my friends here.

I'm a little nervous, but I'm laughing.

There's a reason the "Yonino" video will be released at 5pm today, so you can already enjoy it!

[pbandjesse]

I continued to not feel well today but my energy was more normal. My mouth and throat hurt a ton but I was determined to have a nice day. And I did for the most part! Even if it was just raining so hard and was not snow. I'm very mad that it isnt snow.

I slept a little better. Having a bandaid in my lip was not comfortable but it is helping. I was able to sleep with just the one on but I would change it out like 5 times today. The air hurts it so I'm not comfortable without a bandaid but when it's on if it gets even a little wet it starts to curl and then I can't stop messing with it and once I get there I have to just take it off and start over. I'm trying really hard to leave it alone.

I snoozed my alarm and dozed for 10 extra minutes because I felt so bad. But I got up mostly because I was looking forward to my outfit today. One of my favorite dresses and my favorite sweatshirt. It helped me feel a little more positive towards the day.

James packed up my lunch because they are great. I got myself ready and headed out.

I left a few minutes later then planned but I still made it to camp before the rain started. Which really was all that mattered.

I started up in the art building. I had some stuff to drop off. I emptied the box of stuff I brought but I didn't put things away because it was just to cold. I might try again later but for now it's just a pile of nonsense on the picnic table.

I went back to the office to have my leftovers for breakfast. I was in a pretty good mood despite not feeling amazing.

I had some stuff to do today. I had three screens going at once. I wanted to get the flash sheets drawn up for James and finish mine. Jess wanted to share them with the tattoo artist we are going to. So that was something to focus on for a while.

I also had some sorting of emails for Alexi. I got that done pretty quickly and sent that off. Once everyone else was in the office it was pouring out. And it would continue to get worse throughout the day. All the schools in the area decided to close at noon. So Alexi decided in an abundance of caution, to close the office early too.

We decided we would leave at 2. So I had a few hours to do stuff. I would wander over to the lodge at one point. I was surprised how heavy the rain drops were and how muddy the ground was. I really really wished it was snow.

When I got back to the office from my walk I hsd emails! From the mortgage people! It was time to do some pre closing documents. Explanations and breakdowns about escrow and what we will owe and all the little ins and outs of everything. And I'm trying to not be blasé about homeownership but also. I think we will be great at it. I find it very annoying when articles are like if you aren't a renter you are going to have to take care of all the maintenance! And I'm like. We already do that?? And like I love Tina and Will but 80% of the time I am the one fixing things. Or dealing with the repair people. We haven't had an oven for almost 3 weeks! The backdoor leaks air like crazy. Two of our windows are broken! I am smart and handy and we are going to work hard to save money to have for repairs and be thoughtful about everything we do. I think this is going to be really good for us in a lot of different ways. Even if some stuff goes wrong, I think we will handle it well. I am sure I sound a little naive but also, I have done a ton of research and planning and I am prepared for things to go wrong so that means it won't catch me off guard. I am prepared for good and bad!

I texted James about what we needed to sign and we both got that done very quick. And it feels really real now and it's just very cool.

Alexi would give me a task! I was to create a Google form with camp accreditation questions so that the answering of them can be done collaboratively. It was nice to have something to do and it honestly didn't take to long.

And once it was done I was able to read for a while. I got a new book about the endemic yellow fever of 1793 in Philadelphia. It's very enjoyable so far but also very sad. It's for sure in the same vein as my dear america books but not in journal form. I read that for a while. Chatted with Elizabeth and Sarah. And soon Alexi and Heather were going to have a meeting and we all decided it was time for us to go home.

It was raining very very hard and I am glad I left when I did because it only got worse. Elizabeth teased me for leaving 3 minutes before 2 when I had said I didn't want to be the first to leave. But it would get very bad very quick. I wanted to be off the highway and I wanted to be home. It was scary. The wind was pushing my car around and I desperately wanted to be away from any trucks because they were getting blown about too. It was terrible. I did my best to stay away from other cars because there was so much rain off the back of other cars it was making it hard to see.

As I was getting off the highway I got a missed call and then immediately they called back so I guessed this was a real call. So once I was home and inside and not rained on I called it back. It was the police department. And they were like who are you calling? I'm like they didn't leave a voicemail but I have a case number? And they were able to transfer me but for some reason they were just very snippy. I finally got a detective and he wants me to come in on Thursday. I have never been in a police department before. Scary. He asked could I come in the afternoon and I said yes. 3? And he was like later. Okay how about 4? No. Then he goes how about 6? And I'm like yes that's fine but thinking that is absolutely not the afternoon. That is the evening. But it's fine. I'll go and tell them what I saw and try my best to help. Even if it makes me very nervous. Being in a police station is not my idea of a good time!

When I got off the phone me and James laughed about the call and they told me about their day. They did a lot of packing and took all the art off their office walls and it made me so sad! Blank walls make me feel so sad. But it has to happen so we can move to our new place. Which means I will have to do it in the other rooms. So upsetting. But it is for the best. Because we will have a whole new place to decorate!

We would get in bed and read together. Eventually moving to watching TikToks together. James made me a little frozen microwave pizza for dinner. And we have just had a soft night.

I took a bath. And washed my hair. And we have been listening to the rain and watching videos. I feel a little wheezy but I'm in a better head space. And I think I'm going to go play with some of my jewelery and get ready for tomorrow. I hope it's a good day at work. And I hope you all have a really nice night. Sleep well everyone. Take care of yourselves.

[agendabymooner]

4, 8, 12, 19, 20

OMGGGGG ILY THANK YOU FOR ASKING!!!

(Currently 3AM here how about there?)

4. How many WIPs do you have right now?

- haha shiiiit~ a lot. I come back to my drafts every other hour/half hour and most of which are chapters of series or scenarios. BUT if I were to count them (including chapters that are already completed and ready to be posted), I would say around… 15-25 WIPs? Yeah. I’m batshit.

8. What project(s) are you currently working on?

It really depends on my mood 😫 As I said before, I make things out of pure enjoyment. I’m refraining from posting more social media snapshots of dad!F1 drivers because I feel like I’m just being lazy doing that. I do love me some dad!F1 drivers tho!

But right now, I’m trying to get back to the Hearth Sisters universe groove! That means I’m trying to find inspiration for the Toto Wolff series (Colour Me Your Colour), Max Verstappen series (To Loathe and To Love) and potentially more dad!Charles scenario (About Names)

Another thing I’m working to get back on would be the Honey Honey series! I feel like I haven’t been inspired to write/make posts about that LN4 series so now it’s my break… yeah.

OH! And yeah more dad!F1 fics! The chances of me posting standalone scenarios for F1 drivers as dads are higher than the chances of flooding your timeline with series chapters LOOOOL!

12. Do you have a playlist for your current WIP(s)? Share it!

I’ve only made two playlists for two series that I’ve made!

HONEY, HONEY! LN4

TO LOATHE AND TO LOVE — MV33

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

I’ll give you two eheh

…

FROM ABOUT NAMES || CL16 SCENARIO (3)

“It only makes sense,” Aimee shrugged. “Since either of us are presenting to his peers and their other guardians— why don’t we talk about his names?”

The Ferrari driver thought about it for a moment. His sons and their names meant a lot for the couple, with them being named after people that meant so much — people that both Charles and Aimee looked up to.

Sacha ‘PJ’ Leclerc, much like his brothers, was named after the people that gave meaning to Charles and Aimee’s relationship and their lives way before the kids came along. It only makes sense that the couple answer the questions of who were the kids named after.

Especially when PJ’s teacher, Julie, grew curious about the boy’s nickname. His name was Sacha yet the adults called him PJ— why?

“Okay,” Charles nodded, “we can do that.”

“One condition,” Charles continued, making Aimee nod.

His slight scowl was mimicked by little Alain as Charles spoke, “I’m not messing with the glitter glues.”

“No gwue!” Alain exclaimed as if he struggled with the glittery sticky material before.

…

FROM PRIDE AND PETTINESS || JB22 SCENARIO (2)

SILVERSTONE GP 2005

I haven’t seen someone as excited to see me as Jenson Button. At first, I thought I wasn’t planning to head back to the race any time soon but because of my manager’s insistence — in her words, “You are Britain’s best darling!” — I attended the race in England once more.

Of course, I haven’t lost contact with Jenson. His insistence of “keeping contact” wasn’t anything harmful — and so I just went with it. Except I only kept my emails and responses to a minimum as he continued to pester me. Seeing him in the race once more certainly made my stomach flutter— he was just as handsome as I’d seen him last year.

What he told me however was surprising. He was invited to the event for the Pride & Prejudice premiere. He said this with his usual irritatingly handsome smile. I’ve never been in such a tizzy feeling before… at least until now that I’ve met him.

God. I’ve never been so whipped over a man before. He’s irritating, indeed, but he’s making me want him more. Not that I’ll ever allow my heart to break just like that. In fact, maybe he should work on it.

Our encounter after the race was what had everyone going mad. After all, it wasn’t every day they got to hear a man and a woman talk like they’d known each other for a long time despite only knowing each other through emails.

20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written?

I have a thing for alliteration. Like same sound or letter at the beginning of every word in the sentence and all? Yeah. I love me some alliteration. So I would say my favourite title came from my Sebastian Vettel fic, “Sebastian and Sons (& Soufflés)”

Special mentions: Oscar Piastri SMAU series (Jollibee, Madrid and All That Romance Fiasco), “Daddy, Debriefed!” Series (The Leclerc Daycare & The Hamilton Daycare), Something Sinful Series (F1 smut!)

SHOOT ME A MESSAGE!!