#like I've never been present in my life like that ive always been in my own head

[definitelynotnia]

im sorry i have to rant im so fucking pissed

my exams end on 19th and I have to get rid of some books and buy some books which are quite pricy online so I had planned on going to college street on 20th and selling my books and buying the new ones at a cheap price and i was frankly really excited about it because all I get is a one day break to relax bcz i have to start studying for entrances from 21st so all I have is 20th and i wanted to spend it at college street and then get some food and basically have like a solo date kind of thing.

and i was so so excited about it i told my boyfriend about it like 500 times bcz i kept forgetting i've already mentioned it and it was literally on my mind a lott so i kept bringing it up and ik it seems like not a big deal cz i can just sit at home and chill too but i literally do not get to go outside my house. like- the last time i went out was new years eve and after that the only time i've gone out is to school or to give my boards that is it. my mother has some weird like problem wiht me going out like even if i tell her that i just want to go to our terrace for 5 minutes just to get some fresh air she won't even allow that she'll be all suspicious and like sTaNd In ThE bAlCOnY aNd TaKe FrEsH aIr like she herself doesnt leave the house (and blames it on me and my brother ???? when have we ever stopped you bro, she said I HaVe To Be HeRe To KeEp An EyE like im 18 i dont need to be watched 24/7 stop blaming me for choices you put upon yourself) and i just feel so suffocated ALL THE TIME i feel so overstimulated and im so sick of rotting on my bed and i dont want to wait for some birthday party or friends meet up to be able to leave my goddamn house i just wanted to go and have a fun day and get me some books thats it.

anyway so initially the plan was that my mom would go along but something came up so she wanted to postpone it to 21st and i didn't want to bcz i'd already be missing 3 days bcz of my boyfriends birthday, holi and my brothers birthday (all of which are important and i dont want to miss which makes me the villain apparently bcz i should "adjust" and cancel my "parties" instead of trying to stick to my plan bcz that makes me too demanding and selfish apparently) so i suggested that ukw why dont u go do ur thing which came up and i'll go to college street by myself...which is when the solo date idea came which i had really wanted all along but didnt bring up bcz i knew she'd say no but now there's a valid reason for me to go alone so like, its a pretty easy fix i can just go alone but noooo. First of all,

I've been to college street multiple times before so its not like its an unknown area to me

im going by metro which is quite safe

im going when there is stark daylight and i will return home much much before it gets dark and im literally 18

she never lets me go anywhere alone, not even take ubers alone if i want to get back from somewhere my bf has to come drop me everytime and then go backwards to his house which is so so so stupid and i never get to go out alone unless accompanied by family or by a male friend, so obv when i said i'll go to college street alone she refused to let that happen and started screaming about how 'if its so important to go on 20th bcz u dont want to miss a day of studying then cancel ur 'parties' and study then' and i was like no its not about missing a day its just that there's a very easy and logical fix to this problem which is i go alone and its not inconveniencing anyone so why cant i just do that but she will not listen to that bcz im 'adamant' and 'everything has to be according to me' bcz i found a viable solution to the problem. so instead of letting me just go she was literally ready to pay much more money and buy the books online, like.....why cant i just go bro??? (and she keeps telling me im a waste of her money bcz i will amount to nothing in life and my education was a failed investment or wtv so like now why are u wasting more money??? im literally trying to save the money that u 'waste' on me so just let me ???)

anyway i called my dad last night and told him and he was super ok with the idea he said its a good idea that i go alone and that he would speak to her but then today when i asked her if dad spoke to her she said yes, we'll go on 20th and i was like .....we? so apparently she CANCELLED her previously immovable thing for which she wanted me to cancel my 'parties', she cancelled that and agreed to go with me on 20th just so that i dont get to go alone- like ???????????????? what is ur problemmmm

so obv i was super annoyed and i went on a whole ass rant about how i literally struggle to even cross roads bcz i dont know shit about basic travelling bcz all my life ive been in a car and its a running joke with all my guy friends that i 'cannot navigate' and 'dont know any places' and obv??? if im never allowed to go anywhere then how tf will i know the places- the only places i know is bcz recently i've been paying a lot of attention and asking my dad stuff about what roads to take to reach certain places and when i go out with my friends i kind of try and learn a bit but thats it i've only ever gone alone completely alone to two places which is my beauty parlour thats 5 minutes away from my house and one bazaar one time that was 2 bus stops away, thats it. thats my extent of public travelling alone. and now im supposed to go to a whole new STATE for college and i cant even call myself an auto without struggling. and like- is this not a basic life skill??? like ok yeah its not rocket science and i will probably figure it out even if i start later in life but why not now? most of my guy friends literally go everywhere alone, why not me? and my dad agreed with all of this but my mom was just like "you'll be in the hostel only, no need to go out of the campus" like ARE YOU FOR REAL????????? and she's like "if u want to learn skills learn how to cook" like ok yes i will also learn how to cook for sure but i wont have a fucking kitchen in the hostel but somehow cooking is an urgent skill i should learn but going places by myself is unimportant bcz i should just never? leave? the? hostel?

anyway after much screaming and shouting my dad gave up and just cut the call bcz he doesnt want to get into an argument with my mother and my mother was being all suspicious like why do u hAvE tO gO aLoNe AlL oF a SuDdEn even though i literally explained why i want to do this alone but she doesnt think thats valid. so she refuses to let me go and i asked her for one reason why i shouldnt cz usuallt its always "no u have exam what if smthn happens" but now i literally dont even have exam so whats ur excuse now? streets will always be unsafe forever so "what if smthn happens" is not a reason to never let me go out without a man so just gimme one reason and she couldnt give me a single reason she just said "i said no, thats it".

and now she's gone off about how im useless and blah blah and "high maintainance" bcz i want books and "everyone else (some pishi's son) just studies online" and so the whole option of college street is apparently now cancelled and she's trying to set up a whole ass kindle account (half the books i need arent even available as ebooks) just because i wanted to go by myself.

[plushri]

I really thought I wasn't that anxious of a person until I got high for the first time and realised I'm basically never relaxed and possibly also deeply unhappy so that's wonderful

[broooooo]

Latex freedom

It was as if it was yesterday

I can still feel the pleasure, the euphoria of freedom that I gained.

_

I'm Asher, 20 years old and I don't have much going for myself.

I live in a world where latex rubber drones Rome, as if it's a rite of passage amongst society, to be assimilated is seen as an honour, whether or not you want it or not.

I love alone in a small apartment, iv always felt trapped inside my home, my parents were overwhelming and overprotective, so iv always been alone and outcasted, and now I'm alone, I want to be free to do what I've missed out on, yet I'm stuck .. emotions stop me, iv never been sexually active before, idk what it feels like..

How I wish I knew

_

I watch on my phone one night, as usual I witness the conversions of people, public or In private, seeing how they change , it makes my heart hurt for what I don't have

That is when I got a message from someone I recognise...

His name was once Aaron, we actually live in the same building,were neighbours and old class mates...to be truthful , yet we have never interacted, IV only ever seen him from outside my window peeking through curtains , really I idolized him, he's everything I wanted to be

He recently was assimilated .. I heard he had what could only be described as a, divine enlightenment, I can still hear his moans in my head,

The name on the message was -# 6923

The name he gained after it was complete, Aaron can still be used, yet only in private and usually only between friends .

I'm surprised to get a message, I wonder what it's about and start imagining it, before going on it to read it .. it seems the opportunity has arrived.

An opportunity for freedom ..

Aaron - hey what's up neighbour?

Me- i- hello ...I'm doing fine . I guess.

Aaron- nice to hear... How would you like to hang with me?

Me- (huh? ...Heart beating) - i- sure.. I don't mind.

Aaron - I'll come over to yours tomorrow at 12,ok?

Me- ok..

-that is where it ended .

I could already guess the outcome of tomorrow, yet I'm scared and excited, will my emotions hold me back once more .or?

It was hard to sleep with my mind in a frenzy, it was a sudden difference in my life I want to take advantage of.

_

Come morning, I wake up and immediately get ready. Not like there's much to do

I'm usually tidy but it didn't Hurt to freshen up a bit.

I want to look presentable but all my clothes are baggy and worn, le sigh ... It will have to do

Come 12- I'm nervous...

I can hear to stomp of leather boots . .then a slight nock at the door.

It was him...

I run to the door and gently open it. There he was, a tall muscular young man, leather boots and .. her wore some tight leather pants, a latex t-shirt and gloves.

Although the regular drone latex suit is also worn by some, once a drone, you still are yourself and remember everything, dressing up in different types of latex and leather is something that can be done.

His long white blonde hair flows and his piercing blue eyes...

Errr hi ... Come in, i say

Aaron smiles , hello neighbour. As he walks in.

The sent of latex in the air

I close the door and we both sit down, I had brought orange soda for us to drink and chat.

_

Aaron then speaks up . So how have you been recently Asher? He says with a warm smile

I- iv been fine .. I guess I say in a slight down tone, my eyes looking out the window ..

Aaron puts down his drink and shuffles over to me .. he mildly embraces me with a soft hug. In a soft voice ... It must be hard to live alone like this... Ik how you feel...

I look to him, I can feel his warm energy.. I speak in a somber tone ...

So... You've heard my cries .. haven't you?

(he had always worried if his floor would notice his breakdowns.. whether or not they did, I guess it would be awkward to ask what the sound was )

Aaron then He says in a soft voice.. y yes.... It seems your bedroom is behind mine.... Iv heard it all.

I become embarrassed instantly... Oh I'm so sorry you had to hear all that... I say in a rushed tone.

Aaron Giggles slightly. It's fine it's fine.. ik how you feel, I felt the same way before

He puts his hand on mine.. it's the first time iv felt latex like this before..

I rub my hand against it,, it's soft and warm..

Aaron smiles at me.. nice isn't it?

I blush slightly out of embarrassment.. ehe it is... I guess..

Then sigh... I say sadly... How do you know it will work for me? I don't even know what being turned on feels like.. iv never had a boner before.

Aaron smiles. And softly rubs my hand. I understand your concern Asher.. you don't need to worry. I'm here to slowly guide you.

I felt concerned when I heard your cries .. and knew if I came over. Maybe I could help free you from that pain

Hearing this I let out a tear and and hug Aaron.. (I can hear his heart)

I - thank you.. but I don't even know how to even begin.....

Aaron hugs me back.. don't worry .. leave that up to me.

When we superate Aaron takes his glove off ..

He says In a soft voice holding it out towards me,

Just like he did for me..I will be here along side you ,

I look at the glove a bit shocked... But don't you need it?

He giggles, he puts his hand up and I witness latex forming around the skin into a new glove ..

I stare mesmerized by what I just saw... Wow I say.

Aaron then picks up the glove and motions to me hand, Cinderella style , he gently slides the glove onto my hand,..

This is the first step aaron says in a calm voice . The key is your imagination, if you fantasize and dream about it, it can become reality no matter what.. ik you want this... And I will be a door away if you want company.

I smile... Thank you Aaron..

_

After a nice chat and drinks we parted ways and I've as again alone

I go to my bed a turn on the TV to the assimilation channel to watch others become drones

Listening to the sounds.. the pleasure they experience.. the complete freedom they gain..

Siting up back against a pillow

I look at my hand, it's still very much gloved in latex .

I put my hand against my face , smelling it, feeling it, tasting it...

It felt soft and warm like him, it smelled.. like him.,

My mind had been in a state I'd never known , it felt so good I didn't want to leave, like a dream... I remember his words.. dream and it will become reality..,

i didn't know if I was sleeping or not , but to dreamt about it.. iv watched enough porn and transformations to get the general idea of what it looks like..

To be horny... Yes .. I want to be horny ... I want to get a boner. I want to goon and leak... I want to cum

Then I wake up from my state, I was hot , and steamy? My gloved hand still against my face I pull away .

But then my eyes widened, my heart races, emotion clogs my throat. And I'm on the verge of tears..

It was my dick.. i finally got one.. a Boner . The biggest smile on my face

With speed I striped fully naked and in a heartbeat I used my latex hand and went to town.

Ha hahahaha so this is.... What it feels like..m my eyes gloss over in my new found pleasure.... I was so happy. I started to drool, the smell his latex still on my face and mind

I started to leak pre, it was a sight beyond my wildest dreams. .

Haha ha has I awwww , i laugh , moan and cry, ... Fully immersed in my feelings....

It felt like a lifetime of pain had been lifted

I, I was doing it

I had a throbbing hard dick and I was so horny . I wish this I could be like this forever..

Then the climax ... Through Drool, and pree my eyes roll back in supreme pleasure as I cum for the first time..

Ropes upon ropes of cum spewed all over me, my mind shut of from the pleasure as my dick kept shooting cum....

it felt like a blissful dream , I fell asleep, dreaming of it again, I wanted to cum more.. i wanted more latex ..

With that thought the cum around his body had soaked into his skin and latex blossomed

It slowly covered Asher's body, building his muscles up and giving him a large dick, balls so large he will never run out of cum. A dick meant for a horny drone...

Yes .. he thought .. he can see and feel in , he can see it happening in his dream, latex covering him. .. large heavy leather boots form on his feet. A tight latex t shirt... Tight bondage straps .. leather pant... And a cool latex tie .. a fun drone uniform . . Just like him..m just like Aaron ...his idol ,The one who gave him freedom... The freedom to cum, to be horny .. he felt so aroused , he was ready to be. Drone, ready, to .obey.. ready to cum

Programing set in as his new drone identity was made...

Drone 6924..

A perfect neighbour number...

Hehe he smiled ..

Thank you.. so much.....aaron... He thought before finally falling into a blissful but horny sleep

When asher woke up he was smiling, his dick was hard and leaking from within his pants . He was so happy it wasn't a dream ...

He was so happy... So horny..

Awww he moaned..

He got a sudden text . He looked over to it .

Aaron - must of had a great time Asher .. I'm proud.. I told you it would work : D

Me- i- it was like nothing I'd ever experienced... I I can't thank you enough....

Aaron- your welcome .. drone 6924-

Now why don't you come over and we hang? You can join me for your first assignment.. then maybe can . Have some fun.. together?

Me- I'll be right over. .. drone 6923

The thought of seeing him again made me cum in pleasure .

The cum gets soaked into my latex skin , my dick still hard and leaking.

Forever horny and ready to cum . Just like a good drone should be

Asher got up. Admiring his new body , and loving it all, the boots giving him a kick of pleasure

He was so happy, he finally achieved his dream of freedom from his life, his depressing feelings

No more he said. His dick ready to go, he walks over to Aaron's door and nocks

The beginning of his new life as a horny rubber drone.

O: a late night story for you all. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed it

Xoxo- drone 6923- and 6934

[xxmia0wm4yh3mxx]

ENOCK

(Pomni X Caine Fic)

____________________________________

(Caine and Pomni have been together for a while now, even though Pomni is happy with him, She still suffers from Panic attacks that keeps her from living her best life and constantly on the brink of abstracting, Which Caine simply cannot let slide! So He gives Her a very speical Present)

( This is my first Ship fic, sorry if its corny/cringe )

"POMNI MY DARLING!"

He Teleported through the halls frantically Looking for Pomni who he heard was Having another stress attack, It seems no matter How hard He tries to keep her Happy, the looming threat of anxiety and Being Trapped in a fake world was always to much for her.

Caine Could never Understand, Pomni Always Said She was happy with him, He made her laugh and Smile, He worked so hard to learn to empathize and to have Emotions So she could Be As happy as Possible.

'Was it his Fault? He was Made to Make People Happy, And absolutely needs pomni to be happy, Was he not doing it right? He learned so much about humans, but their still so complicated and impossible understand'

"POMNI?"

Caine found Pomni curled up in a little ball in a corner in one of the rooms, She was hyperventilating and glitching again

'UH OH'

"POMNI! I'VE BEEN LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR YOU!"

He Manifests a warm blanket and Wraps it around her to comfort her, He also hads Her a cat Plushie and some water, Her breathing slows down a bit

"Thank you Caine"

She wasn't Glitching anymore, but she still looked sad

"DO YOU NEED ANYING ELSE?"

"FRESH DIGITAL AIR? A ROOM FILLED WITH FRIENDLY CATS? SAY THE WORD AND ITS YOURS MY DEAR!"

Pomni was always so endeared by him, Always trying so hard to make everyone happy even if it dosent always work, its the thought that makes him so sweet

"I'm Fine..."

"...MY DEAR, IM HAVING TROULE BELIEVING THAT YOU ARE 'FINE'."

he floating down to her level

"PLEASE TELL ME WHAT IM DOING WRONG? I CAN'T LET YOU ABSTRACT, I NEED YOU!"

"....Ive just been feeling so... Stressed lately and I dont know why, I-I don't think I have any reason To be, But I just Am and I-I C-cant help it and... im sorry that y-you can't help.."

Her eyes started tearing up a little

He just put his Hand on her shoulder, He was starting to feel a little depressed himself

"POMNI I'M SO SORRY! I PROMISE I WILL NEVER STOP TRYING TO KEEP YOU SANE I PROMISE! JUST... TELL ME WHAT I NEED TO DO!"

"I-I don't know what you can do"

She cuddled into him resting Her head on his chest, Caine Gave her a little Head pat in response, he was starting to feel alittle Hopeless now, But then a little light bulb popped over his head as He got a Idea.

"EUREKA! IVE GOT IT!"

"Got What?"

Caine thought for a moment on How to Explain his Plan to her, It was a long shot but still, Everything for her or nothing at all

"POMNI, I ADORE YOU, YOU KNOW THAT RIGHT?"

He sounded Weirdly more Serious than Usual, which was kinda off putting and confuseing, but she Was Listening

"Yes? I Love you to Caine, Where are you Going with this?"

"WELL... I HAVE BEEN LEARNING MORE ABOUT HUMANS AND HOW THEY WORK, AND WHAT MAKES THEM FELL JOY... SO HOW WOULD YOU FEEL ABOUT A LITTLE BUNDLE OF JOY OF OUR OWN?"

Pomni Was a Little Confused and Startled by this, He couldn't possibly be saying what she thinks hes saying

"W-What do you mean?

"IM TALKING ABOUT YA-KNOW ONE OF THOSE LITTLE ANKLE-BITERS! YOUNG-UNS! IM TALKING ABOUT CHILDERN MY DEAR! DOSENT THAT SOUND MAGNIFICENT!"

Pomni Just stared off into space processing What Caine Just proposed to her

'Was he Crazy?! Okay Absolutely, Yes But Still- Is he Crazy!?'

"Caine, I can Barley Take care of Myself, How can I take care of a Child?!"

"IT WOULDN'T BE LIKE ANY OTHER CHILD, IT WOULD BE AN ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE! AND WE AI'S ARE KNOWN FOR OUR LOW MANTIENCE! BESIDES, THEIR IS NOTHING MORE FULFILING LIKE THE WONDERS OF PARENTHOOD! SOMETHING TO REPLACE ALL THE ICKY DEPRESSION WITH LOVE AND JOY!"

Pomni was feeling a bit more enticed by the idea, What Else is there to do here expect the Adventures Caine sets out for them? Maybe a Child Could give at least the Illusion of normalcy, And Caine being there with her to help her.only made her feel more convinced

"Well... maybe... But how? I mean Like... How would that Even work..? I mean Can you even Do THAT in Digital realm??"

"WELL OF COURSE WE CAN HAVE CHILDREN MY DEAR!"

Pomni's Face starting turning bright red, Caine Quickly Noticed and became flustered himself

"N-NOT LIKE THAT! I MEANT I COULD CREATE A LEARNING AI FOR US TO RAISE TOGETHER-"

pomni started Giggling a little at Caine being flustered, Caine Always loved that Adorable Face she Made when she was happy, That little giggle, and how shy and sweet she was when she was flustered, its what made him learn to Love and experience things which he couldn't Even Imagine before

"i would find a way to bypass the filter for you"

"What was that Caine?"

"NOTHING-"

"SO MY DEAR, WILL YOU ACCEPT?"

She Thought about it for a while, maybe like Five minutes, Before she Started tearing up in anticipation

"OH GOODNESS MY DEAR! ARE YOU ALR-"

"A-ABSOLUTELY YES!"

She rammed into him, Embraceing him in tight hug

"I wanna have a Child!"

She was still sniffling a bit, Caine Was Just staring into Space for A bit, bursting with enthusiasm at the thought of Pomni being Happy, but also Having his own progeny to raise

"WELL THEN MY DEAR! I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT TO DO!"

Caine left pomni's embrace and back up in the air a bit, He felt across his Teeth and grabbed one of his Molars, and Yanked it out in a Cartoony Fashion.

"THIS WILL DO WONDERFULLY!"

"NOW MY DEAR, I JUST NEED A LITTLE SOMETHING FROM YOU"

He Grabbed Her Eye and Pulled it out like a Berry in a bush, being as gentle as he can with it, Pomni was already pretty used to Caine's antics at this point so it didn't bother her that much, He Grabbed one of her hats Tassles and Yanked on it, And a new eye roll into place for her

"KNOW LETS SEE!"

He manifested a Little Gift Box and Dropped The pieces into It, and Shook it vigorously for about two minutes, Pomni watching with Excitement and smiling the whole time

"NOW, THE MOMENT OF TRUTH! ARE YOU READY MY DEAR!"

Pomni just vigorously nodded her head not being able to keep calm

"I'LL TAKE THAT AS A YES!"

Caine Put the Box into Pomni's hands, Trembling alittle, Pomni slowly opened the box.

She saw a Little Tooth-Like Creature with Big wet Colorful Pinwheel Eyes, The Little Tooth Just Stared at Her with Its Wet Eyes as it Draw back into the Box

Pomni lowerd her Hand to give it a little Stroke, It Snuggled up Against her Hand, purring while doing so

Pomnis looked at it with instant love for the little Creature, picking it up And Holding it Close to her, it cuddling her arm with its Roots as arms, She felt all her Stress, dread, anxiety and sadness fade away, Pomni had tears in her eyes at this point

"....Its Beautiful Caine, I love him"

"TERRIFIC! I KNEW YOU'D LOVE IT!"

Caine floated down to see his new child, His pupils Immediately Went big as he Gazed upon The little Tooth, It looked at its Father with Large Eyes and extending its root-legs to be held by him, He picked him up and Looked him in the eyes

"....WELL HELLO THERE SPORT! AND WELCOME TO THE DIGITAL CIRCUS! IM YOUR CREATOR AND FATHER CAINE, AND THIS IS YOUR MOTHER POMNI!"

The little baby Tooth just Stared him, and Cuddled into him like a Kitten, and Caines eyes went big

Pomni Went up to Him and Gave Caine a hug

".....Hes perfect"

________________________________

Thanks for reading!!!

Here Enock Himself if your wondering

[riskyalt]

I'm going to write this now as I'm watching the goodbye stream, to add my two cents and whatnot.

The community has always been a huge part of the project, if we put the actual server aside for one second. The fanart, fanfics, headcannons, theories, comics, analysis, videos, memes, all of it was just as important as the actual players and server happening. The community was as much the lifeblood of the project as the actors involved were, and for that I can give a big thank you to all of you in the QSMP tag reblogging and creating under QSMPblr. I've adored each passing moment here - that including the rougher eras because as a community I've seen very measured responses from people truly passionate about the purpose the QSMP was there to serve - to unite communities.

As I'm watching Quackity talking about the fact that even if the QSMP as a project has ended, his desire in bridging cultural and language gaps is still present and something he wants to continue creating for. So yes, even if the server is currently ending, what has been achieved will forever be present. I'd never even thought that I'd be in a community with so many different nationalities who are not afraid to express themselves in their own languages and cultures, and especially I'd never thought that I'd be eagerly waiting to congratulate mutuals on their national holidays and things like that. In that, it's made me want to get closer to my own culture since I've never really properly grown up where I come from and I think that is something to be cherished.

I'd never thought I'd rekindle my passion for language learning and now be able to watch videos and streams in Spanish to understand the majority of what's being said and laugh along in chat, nevermind that same passion being rekindled or created for thousands of others. We have so many languages here and it's insane to even think about isn't it? People in the community that speak: Portugese, French, English, Spanish, German, Korean and probably more! I've been trilingual for the major part of my life, and have known Italian really well for a long time on top of that, but the QSMP as a whole has opened up my perspective on language like I'd never thought anything could.

THAT BEING SAID. Thank you to the creators involved in the project. It was clear to me as early as from the first days - before the translator - when the creativity and passion of the creators broke through those initial barriers and helped form the meaningful connections we find today. The roleplayers that created stories and characters very near and dear to me are absolutely to be praised, personally, I'd say q!Cellbit, q!Roier and q!Etoiles are my favourite characters to come out of this and those that I will keep creating and blogging about. Every character that came out of this is incredible though, everyone even down to Jorgito the IV drip and Posolito the capybara are utterly, indisputably, definantly: peak. Im greatful to the duos or groups that have emerged thanks to the translator and opportunity, just a few examples being: Cellbit and Roier, Badboy and YD, Pierre and Maximus, Etoiles and Phil, Missa and Phil, Cellbit and Baghera, Tubbo and Pac, etcetera! All of these connections between CCs were really entertaining to watch, and all due to the QSMP.

ALSO THAT BEING SAID. Thank you to the actors behind the scenes doing as much of a part as the streamers themselves. The eggs were all absolutely wonderful as NPCs and breathed life into the server like no other. All of them, all portrayed such different characters with realistic personalities and struggles that to me have always been stupendous at staying in character at all points. Lullah, Chayanne, Richas, Tupperware (Dapper), Patitas de cheto (Bobby), Leo, Tillin, Juanna, Trump, Chunsik, Em, Pepito, Sunny, all of you eggos have made the QSMP an unforgettable experience, and you admins deserve to get recognition. Massive thanks also go to the designers, writers, actors and managers behind the project as well, just as important in keeping the server running and fresh in how it was.

General thanks to the project for achieving what it has. Uniting communities, creating an incredibly story and characters, opening mine and other's eyes to more diverse cultures, rekindling passion for language learning and just so much more shit I could talk about for hours. This server has been an incredible ride, but that doesn't mean I'm leaving it completely.

Of course, the QSMP was by no means perfect and I'm not trying to make it out to be. It has it's issues and I'm completely aware of that. I think the impact and beauty the server has had is something to be celebrated regardless because it's something on a scale not done before.

I'm still going to be here, posting and creating about this SMP even after it closes. I'm still gonna be here posting silly clips and making long posts like this one that will maybe get 5 notes - but that's fine with me. I'm proud to be part of this community and experience as a whole, since Day fucking 1 - and I regret none of it. To all the people I've met over this thank you so much for being the people you are, keep creating and learning.

Thank you, QSMP, QSMPblr and Quackity Studios.

[sporesgalaxy]

Hey can you like explain what it is about spore that makes it fixation-worthy? Not saying that I think it isn't I just have always been under the impression that it was like a sandbox where you make weird little guys without a story or anything, but am now getting the sense that I may be wrong and I'm scared to brave the wiki for information

well 1) im insane about playing in the sandbox with my little guys and I always have been

2) there is lore! i think. I'm not a lore guy. more on that later. there are collectible items in space stage with descriptions detailing their histories etc. aaand i think theres some grox (mean space empire present in every game) lore?

but to be honest I have never gotten very deep into the spore lore. I'VE always been more into 3) spore's development & production!!!! I got the collectors edition with a concept art booklet & nat geo mini documentary about researching evolutionary biology! those thangs changed the trajectory of my life! yay!

plus (fourthly) Im like.....fundamentally obsessed with the beauty inherent to random encounters with the creations of other humans, which was a core spore mechanic at launch. I know EA is annoying but to ME it's worth dealing with their weird launcher to have my world randomly populated by creatures and buildings and vehichles from the online sporepedia (the steam version of spore does not do this 😭)

the spore wiki is nice from what Ive seen :) I recommend checking it out tbh

[firefly--bright]

come january. (2)

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern au. part two of this fic.

summary ; to love someone is to know someone, fully, wholly, and jean fulfills this, wholly, knowingly.

warnings ; badly written smut, MDNI. ive never written smut before so its probably going to be bad. please tread carefully. literally the most vanilla sex u can ever imagine. too wordy.

a/n ; as said before ive never done this before and i really dont think writing smut is my forte with my writing style? but. i've had ideas and i just wanted to explore the idea of writing it. as practice. or wtv. so if you dont like it pls feel free to not interact at all OR leave a constructive criticism in my askbox/messages.

taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable

again, MDNI. any and all minors who interact with this post will be blocked! this is a direct part two of this post, so reading it within context would be better :D

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿

middle tile art creda to @yuka-levi on twt!

Everything happens. Universes are created, ended, made again. Strings – thick, usually unbreaking and strong, snap apart when his lips are on yours and you lose everything you ever thought you might had in him. And it belongs there, you think, because it feels right.

You pull apart, breaths heavy, hearts lighter, burrowed in each other's chests so deeply that it would take a skilled surgeon to replace them again. Your smile is still present on your face, gentle, whole, and your smile makes him smile even if his eyes are closed. There's a distance pop followed by a big bright flash of beautiful golden and you open your eyes, turning to the source. Fireworks. Another one, farther away, flashes out in all its glory, looking like the birth of a star. Jean’s head rests on your shoulder, his hands cupping your cheek, not taking his eyes away from you, watching the light dance on your features, lighting the tip of your nose and side of your cheek, kissing the corner where your ear meets your jaw because he finally can. Because he wants to, because he finds himself present there, with you and against you.

You inhale as his kisses spread further down your neck, your heart beating with the numerous fireworks in the sky only for you to realise that the new year was here and he was by your side, on your side just as he was supposed to be. You turned and his kisses trailed to the apple of your cheeks, to where your smile met your eyes.

“jean.” You said, your voice overlapping the boom of the firework, and jean hummed, his lips resting on your forehead, unmoving and you could feel his own soft smile on your skin. His hands cup your jaw, and yours lay on his cheek, guiding his eyes to meet yours again.

“happy new year.” You say, and he swallows the sound of your voice, proving your existence to be heard and seen. “happy new year.” He echoes, proving his own life, breathing it into you. “I love you.” your smile turns softer. You echo back, “I love you too, jean.” You thumb rests on his cheek, his eyes fluttering close, brows furrowing slightly, his breath on yours, and he thinks about how his name has always been yours to say, thinking briefly about changing his name so that no one but you could say it, utter himself into his being.

But he doesn’t because you’ll have him as he is, and his lips are on yours again because he wants to taste how it feels like to be. You lean back with the force of his lips, humming shortly into him, goosebumps covering your skin as his hand grazes over your thigh, keeping you in your reality, locking you into a promise, into a routine that he wouldn’t change. You loose focus, his eyelashes feel nice against yours, his hands feel warm on you, his hair feels so soft under your hands and he feels twice more real than anything ever has and ever could. He kisses you with soft force, wanting you to know that you still have choice, but knowing you’d choose him. Over and over again.

His tongue mingles with yours, no hesitance behind his teeth, nothing that could make him reluctant. Second nature. Muscle memory. You allow him just the same, a small noise escaping your throat not in disagreement but with just the opposite. His hand leaves your thigh to support you as you lean further back, unable to hold yourself up for longer. You pull back, his lips still following your every move.

“we should- we...inside?” you ask, loosing coherence, but jean catches the meaning you throw away so easily. He nods against yours, and you feel your noses bump.

climbing down is muscle memory. Second nature. Routine, whatever you want to call it, but the moonlight at hushed words that were exchanged made it become more of a shrine of itself that it really was. Like always, like all the times before this one where you were less hidden but also less seen, jean helps you down. you climb with your feelings in your throat, your love spilling everywhere you'd touch, which makes you grab his hand with even more fervor as he helps you down, slipping in the room from the ledge.

Sitting on the edge of the bed of the spare guest room, you catch your breath. Jean stands near the window, supporting himself on it after closing it, trying keeping his own breath controlled, enjoying the view. He cant stop the smile that seems to now find his home on his lips without care. He’d get your lips tattooed on the inside of his ribs if he, carve your name that was always meant to be his into his bones so in the future, after being buried next to you, they’d be in a museum for people to connect the dots themselves.

Seconds pass. They feel like hours, and he leaves his spot on the window, kneeling infront of you, placing one hand beside you and one on your knee, travelling up slowly, finding god in the way your expression shifted so easily and openly infront of him, your breath hitching, leaning down to capture his lips again. Its different this time, if only a little, because the gentle warmth had progressed into a proper temperature, you think, as you rest your hand on the junction between his neck and his shoulder, your other one drawing soft shapes into his back despite the weight of the kiss. His tongue was on yours again, stealing all the words you thought you could speak but giving them their home anyway. Gasping as he pulled away, all control is left to be picked up by the wind as he leans over you, pressing himself onto you, your back hitting the soft mattress gently, his lips touching every part of you that was exposed, kissing the lines of your collarbones, every vein and muscle that was hidden, ashamed under your skin igniting with colours that you didn’t know existed. “jean,”

He hummed on your skin again, his voice cracking. He supported his weight on his arm that held itself next to your head, his eyes closed into you, feeling your own hands everywhere on himself, warmth spreading across his body. His hand lifts your leg up, his hand moving upward, feeling the rest of your body, the parts you hadn’t shown.

“jean, wait-“ you say. He pulls apart instantly, concern clouding his features as he peers at you, his lips still close to yours. speaking takes a lot of control, something you try to seize after everything he’s done to make you forget it exists, “the door.” You mutter, your hand on his jaw. He pauses, glancing at the lock that was left open before, and nods reluctantly. He doesn’t want to let go, and you agree, and you’re sure he knows it because your hand is still in his hair as he gets up. You do, too, opting to use the time to pull the zipper of your dress down.

If this was someone else – not that you’d want it to be – you’d have preferred to be more lost in the moment, but this was jean. Your jean, where every moment spent with him was spent lost within it. So you’d take your time because you had it. He wasn’t going anywhere – this was routine. Second nature, and jean turned back around from locking the door, breathing in to calm himself down again despite knowing that his breath was going to quicken, and it did. Or maybe he just lost all of it. All his thoughts stilled, only one ringing out in his ears along with his fastening heartrate, his cheeks red.

You're beautiful. With your clothes now pulled away, leaving you with your undergarments and the dim but present light shrouding your figure, lighting your hair, a small smile playing on your face.

You're beautiful. not that you weren't before but this - closest to divinity, closest to himself. Matching your state, jean decides to join you by removing his vest and the shirt that was underneath all in one swipe, while still taking long strides towards where you sat. his lips found yours as if they had never left, resuming your positions. Your hands find themselves undoing his belt as he presses kisses – soft, beautiful, full of words he couldn’t spell out – unclasping the hook of your bra with one hand, his own hands going down your back, tracing your spine that arched slightly, covered in goosebumps. Not because of the cold but because of how warm his touch was, because you were sure no-one had come close to the amount of softness that he held towards you. his lips were the complete opposite, his kisses fleeting but solid, sloppy but definite, sure of himself, of the fact that he wanted this – you. just you. everything with you.

He pulls away again and you suppress a whine, but he doesn’t go far – just enough to remove his trousers comfortably, throwing them somewhere on the floor along with the rest of his belongings. He doesn’t need them anymore because he has you and he belongs here, with you, more than he belongs with anything else he attaches himself with. Your pupils are blown wide and he sees the admiration in them, smirking when he catches you looking at him, your eyes going over every part of him without so much as an ounce of shame, unabashedly, maybe even a little proud.

He looks like god. His chest, well built moves up and down rapidly, his forearms outlining his veins, the slant of his chest that connected to his shoulders looked the closest to belonging you had ever felt. You shuddered as your eyes went even further down, taking in the contour of his dick, the fabric pulled taught, snapping your eyes to his again. And there lay your favorite view, even after seeing almost everything he had offered with simple actions and simpler existence, his eyes were always your favorite part – lit up but gauging your reaction, glazed over with everything he wanted.

“like what you see, beautiful?” he asks, leaning forward again, hovering over you with the same smile. your knees locked against either side of his waist, and you pull him in by the back of his neck to shut him up. “need what I see.” you whispered, your lips spelling it out on his own. He lifted your thigh, giving in.

his hands are everywhere. They're all your know, you're sure your skin could remember every callus and scar on them because of it. One settles on your hip, finally, the other still taking its time roaming on you, claiming its place near your upper thigh. His thumb his feather light, shadowy, whispering against the hem of your underwear, making you gasp. There's a spark in you that threatens to grow into something more, and you don’t know where to put your own hands. One circles his neck, playing with the ends of his hair – something that makes him stutter his movements. Your other hand, however, has plans of its own, carrying itself over to the waistband of his trunks, sliding further down, grazing the outline you had studied before. He grunts next to your ear. He licks his lips, his voice husky when he whispers into your ear, “god, you’re so beautiful.”

Not giving you a chance to reply if you even had one ready, he melts you into putty, his warm lips circling your nipple. Your strings are fraying, and his hand that had been resting on your hips is on your waist now, and you feel your voice calling out to him, pleading.

The spark grows, a knot forming in your core, “want- please, jean-“

“im yours, love.” He rasps, his tongue swirling around, making you gasp. You cupped your hand where it was, his size making another round of shivers run down your spine, his whimper on your breast, your skin soaking every sound as if it would save you from further decomposition, pulling the hem of his underwear down, feeling the size of his cock against you now. The spark evolves itself into something greater and you moan, his hand pushing your underwear aside. Whatever the spark was is now long gone, increasing its size into a fire, consuming your body, making your skin feel hot. He calls out your name, strained, gentle.

Your heart beating was probably the only proof of you being in this moment; the rest of your being had been fully consumed by jean, his lips sucking your neck, feeling your pulse in his mouth, trying with all his might to not give you everything he had, even if he was sure you already had it, drawn out and in front of him. He pulled you closer to him, your thighs hooked around his waist so you could feel him, and he could feel you, ready and wanting and waiting, your whimpers reaching his ears, settling in his chest, making him move, his muscles rippling with effort, all of which you could feel under your trembling fingers, gripping his shoulders with force as he pushed himself into you, filling you completely, slowly, wholly.  

Everything opened. Sounds felt a little like they were underwater, and it took you a while to accommodate him, his hips grazing yours, and he was saying something. You exhaled shakily and everything closed again, and you could hear him clearly now, his voice the only thing that could guide you.

“feels..so good, sweetheart-“ he says, his tone being something you hadn’t heard from him before. you like it, enjoy it more than the moment youre caught up against. His voice slinks against your body, deep and uncontrolled because it was with you and for you, his lips nest to the cup of your ear making sure you could feel each syllable at its peaks and lows. “tu es fait pour moi, mon amour.” He rasps. You don’t know what he means, but you can feel it with the way his hands circle your clit. It feels like he’s worshipping you – every part of you being looked at gently, just as you were supposed to, and he feels like prayer to you because his name is the only thing you know how to speak. You repeat it with your eyes fluttering closed, feeling the fire turning, meeting something new.

Your mouth only sings of him. Its muscle memory as he pushes inside you again, guiding your thigh delicately and you want to burrow yourself into him, let him sink into you like he’s doing for the rest of how much ever youre allowed to have. The flame heats you up from the inside, spreading across every part of your body once again and if you’ve felt like this before, this overtakes. You don’t know what to call it – feelings and words other than the moment feel far away and untouched.

you hardly have the time to ask him what it means, lost in the way he feels. Spark. Flame? Youre not sure what it is, hardly sure of what you are either, he’s pushing in you now, grunting softly beside your ear, and whatever that was is growing now, fast. “god, love-“ “jean,” the two of you say at the same time, his voice sending shivers down your warm spine, everything is spinning. This feeling isn’t routine, isn’t something you’ve ever felt before but you welcome it as if it was a part of your own body. He pushes in again, everything builds up and crumbles at the same time. Thoughts are broken, sentences are just strings of words and he fills you, fully. Again. Tightening, beauty that comes close to discomfort only if it weren’t with him. It feels right.

he says your name breathily, his voice strained like he’s been thinking about saying it for a longer time than this. “I’m g’nna.. oh,” he says, and his voice is the only thing that you can hold onto beside himself, your hand gripping his hair while the other one roamed in the limited space between his shoulder and toned arms, nails scratch, and scratching his skin just enough to leave light, red marks, that matched the blush on his cheeks. “can i- sh…uh,” he says, making you blink him into focus, a tear rolling down your cheek. Your heart squeezes when his face becomes clearer, his brows knit tight. “I’m sorry,” he says, barely a whisper, only the proof of one. You shake your head gently, your hand freeing itself from his hair and resting on his cheek, thumbing the tear away. “jean… it’s okay, love.” “im, I just… never felt this before?” he explains, or tries to at least, grasping onto the only meaning he could find – you. his hand clasping your thigh. His hand near your head, strands of your hair under his thumb. He breathes, ribs turning putty, heart molding itself around your hand, creating a cast. That’s where it belongs, he thinks. “I know. I haven’t either.” You confirm. Theres two of you now, worlds apart from where everyone else would be, and he looks at you, your eyes holding that sheen on them, cheeks stretched with a small smile and thinks about how unbroken the moment was. No space between your bodies, comfortable unpredictability. His bones hum with familiarity, being this close to you - sending something close to electricity but far more close to divinity into his heart. He nods, kissing the corner of your mouth. Then your jaw. Then your forehead.

“don’t hold back.” You tell him, unafraid. He nods, heart spurring.

Warmth, heat, spreading across your body and he goes a little faster, and you feel him everywhere, deeply, and your noises are only controlled by the barrier of your lips being bit by your teeth, something jean impossible notices, oulling your chin gently by his thumb. “don’t hold back on me either,” he’s so close to you.

So close. Your grip on his shoulder tightens, leaving a mark, his name leaving your mouth, freeing itself from wherever it was within you as if it was a part of you. he says your name just the same, his voice carrying out in the confines of the room, striking a chord only you can hear, only meant for you to understand. Your name has never felt like yours until he’s said it, like this, your back lifting, stomach touching his, and you feel the world collapsing, building. Flame turned into fire turned into smoke, your body shaking, sounds coming from your mouth merging with his and it stays there, unbroken, devouring, overwhelming. He’s out of you in what feeling like an instant but youre sure is slow, caring but time doesn’t make sense to you. the sheets under your legs are soaked, your muscles aching comfortably, unpredictably.

Your chest heaves, up and down, as does his, almost in sync. His strength sways as his body almost collapses onto yours, devouring, overwhelming, the scent of his rundown cologne and sweat and shampoo mixing into yours. devouring, overwhelming.

His lips are on your collarbone. You laugh with the little strength you have and jean drinks it up, a smile etching itself on his pink lips, his skin red. “we should.. do that more often.” You say. Your eyes closed, hand in his hair and he hums, nodding his head slightly, something you feel.

and this continues, becoming more than just a moment in your life, increasing itself into something that becomes your being. His knee bent, getting comfortable, and your thigh rests on his own, feeling his muscles underneath yours, skin to skin. It feels akin to holiness, but gods don’t have skin like you and jean. That’s their curse, you think, because you’d want to be human just to feel something like this again, no space between the two of you, legs entangled, warm, devouring, overwhelming, comfortable. If this was a new routine, you’d appreciate it for all the times to come.

His hand is pinned under your back and he lifts his head from your shoulder, resting It near your head, hair escaping and spilling next to yours. all of your parts meeting his. His eyes look at yours and you want to consume the look in them, something you wish was possible, but then he speaks and you think it is possible because his tone is the same as the way he looks at you – soft. Warm. Shining. “this may be the post nut clarity talking, but you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything that was right in front of me.”

Oh. Okay. He's saying what he wants to say, out of control, chest beating unexpectedly in control. A confession like this, under normal circumstances, would’ve been around in his head for about a week before actually having the bravery to speak it into existence, make it known. But with the prior fact already known – because it was you, of course you’d know – it was easy to say, and with that logic, everything became easy with you. not untethered but the exact opposite, everything was easy because it was connected and all of everything lead to you. always did. You breathe out shakily.

You kiss the crease between his brows, soothing it permanently, easing his features. You’ve never been good with words. When morning (or better yet, judging by how everything played out right now and how late it was, late afternoon) rolled around, jean was sure to have either a bouquet of flowers or an inexpensive gift with a full-fledged letter sitting on his desk, waiting for him in compensation. Either the letter or a text, you weren’t sure, the plan formulating in your head ass he breathed beside you, his breath fanning the side of your face.

you turn your face to his, opening your eyes again, looking into his. “if I told all of this to last year-me, I would’ve never believed it,”

He smirks. “cant believe you bagged the jean kirstein?” you scoff. “I hated your guts, I would’ve thrown up and asked myself what present-me was even thinking getting with that jean guy.” “oh,” he says, softly, his smirk slipping off his face comically. You laugh a little, shifting to your side to rest comfortably. His body shifts with yours, his hand now on the slight dip of your waist, thumb brushing your stomach.

“but present-me would tell her that I think… youre the most passionate and brave person I’ve ever met. And you make me laugh.” “its no that hard, y’know-“ “just take the compliment.” “yes ma’am.” He says, smiling drowsily, blinking slowly. You could capture his mouth in a kiss right now but you preferred to have it in front of your eyes instead of your lips. For now, of course. The promise of being able to see the same face with the same smile would mean you could kiss his lips and feel his mouth all over again, hundreds of times, like a beautiful predictability. Routine. He clears his throat. “thank you.” he says. You hum, gently, jean feels the vibrations of your voice against the thrum of his heart. He keeps it there.

“what… what else would you tell your past-self about… about that jean guy?” he asks, mainly to hear your voice again, under the guise of forgetting it every time you don’t speak, but really, its because he needs your voice to build the rope that he balances on. His hand reaches your cheek, feeling your words fully. You hum under his touch, thinking. “id tell her that… that jean guy is fucking annoying-“ “name one time ive annoyed you-“ “and pretentious.” “I have never once-“ “d’you remember when we went to that art gallery and you said that you 'loved how the elements juxtaposed each other'?” “…yeah.” “I thought you were just trying to sound smart.” “…I was.” You giggle at his admission. His ears tinge red, unseen because of the dark but not unknown because youre here.

“but I’d tell past-me that that same jean guy also held me when I needed it without asking. Made me laugh when I needed it without asking.” Theres a beat of silence. Jean breathes in, consuming your entirety, and youre okay with it. “that… this jean guy thought that past-me hated him because he was a dick.”

“yeah, I did,” he breathes out a laugh, continuing, “but then he – I – grew used to you. grew to like you. grew because and with you. and now present-me knows that present-you is resilient and patient and stubborn enough to stick with me.” “yeah, I should get an award for that.” “yeah, yeah, I’ll get you one.” He says, pulling you in closer with his arms, burrowing your face in his neck.

The moment would be unbroken. Even if the two of you had gotten up, reluctantly, after a while, under the bursting of fireworks, jean cleaned you up and helped you slip into your clothes again, fixing your appearance best you could. The moment remained unbroken as he held your hand, kissing your knuckles when you reached downstairs, catching sasha dancing with nicolo, connie on the table, marco trying to pry him down but not really wanting it to end, eren hyping him up. mikasa was somewhere behind him, with a small smile on her face as she glanced at you and jean’s interlocked fingers. The moment went unbroken even after the night ended, everyone hungover and piled on the floor of you and sasha’s shared living room even though the latter wasn’t even in her own home (she later texted you, extensively, about what happened with her and nicolo),  and jean woke up with a one page (front and back. You tried to keep it under the set word limit in your head but couldn’t) letter and a singular flower (you couldn’t afford to splurge until after your paycheck arrived). The moment remained unbroken even ass connie groaned about his hurting head and jean made fun of him for the same fact, marco glancing between the space – or lack of it – between the two of you as jean stood with an arm around your waist (something he later revealed he was panicking about in, his own words, “I didn’t even think much of it, I just sorta, did it, y’know,” but his eyes wouldn’t look directly at yours and the tips of his ears were red, a telltale lie).

The moment remained unbroken. It always would. Details kept safe, sound, intact, even while you retold it to your closest friends after only some pestering. Even after jean mulled over it on the most important day of his life, playing with his ring, adjusting his suit.

The moment, all the words and anatomy of it, remained unbroken. Beautiful. Holy.

✿

< previous

[aliusfrater]

i keep thinking about. What If dean had actually prepared for his death in season three. like, instead of enabling sam's premeditative grief he said i need you to focus on the now and after rather than the hypothetical 'if' that is my life. i am going to die and i need you to be ready for when i'm gone. both in the sense that sam enjoys this last year so there's enough to look back on that makes your grief worthwhile AND there's the set-up of a life worth living for that doesn't include revenge for when i'm gone. kind of like. what sam did making dean promise to go see lisa once he's in the cage

i've always thought that dean's deal for sam's life pretty much mirrors mary's deal for john's life in the sense that. it was always going to play out that way for them and there is nothing to be done to stop it (dean tried to stop azazel and mary but it's revealed that he never could) but there's something else to be said about the cycles of abuse and how they're perpetuated through grief. something else ive always thought about is the fact that the show itself can be seen through the lense of an allegory of perpetuated grief but i also think the cycle of abuse is imperative to the way grief is presented within the show. mary is coerced into a deal with john's life and through her own adamance of escaping hunting (as a metaphor for familial rot or abuse), she refuses to acknowledge that part of herself and it is through this lack of acknowledgement that grief is perpetuated. you have to acknowledge abuse to heal from it and the part of the inherent instability of the nuclear family that supernatural finds itself concerned with creating commentary about/exploring is the part that exists but people refuse to acknowledge. it's ignored for pretty houses in pretty neighbourhoods and obscured behind closed doors and when it leaks out of the holes in the foundation, that's what hunters are for. unpaid and unloved for what they do. through mary's lack of acknowledgement and therefore, lack of preparation, she has cursed the family she's created to perpetuate the cycle of abuse through grief. she dies and john didn't see her death or the thing that killed her coming and the grief is perpetuated through him. his children become victims at the hands of his abuse because of this grief. and it cycles from mary to john and through dean with john's deal for dean's life. "save him or kill him," is a similar ultimatum to that of azazel's own deal when it came to coercing her into her deal; she could either save john or keep him dead but in the end she didn't end up saving him from azazel because the same demon is who ends up killing him, just like sam. dean had never actually gotten the chance to save him or kill him (explicitly, anyway (i love incesthemes' theory that dean did end up kind of killing sam by distracting him from jake and getting him stabbed)) and the cycle of abuse continues in sam's grief and in his relationship with ruby, which is something that blossomed in his/as a direct result of grief for dean

then there's also my idea of sam as a nucleus character for the cycles of abuse and there's a possible connection between him sacrificing his life at the end of season five and pushing dean into getting out of hunting through a situation (lisa & ben) being pretty similar in structure to what he had before season one as being an attempt to escape this cycle of grief. it's very possible that soulless!sam as a character could also represent the very idea of grief itself — grief is, inherently, the loving of the memory of a person you loved. sam existing without a soul, without the parts of sam that dean had been forced to grieve is a shock to reality and it is, to an extent, acceptance of sam's actual 'death'. but then again, despite the brief clarity and relative healing that his escape from the cycle provided, dean does not accept soulless!sam at all. he fights to get sam's soul back and that is against sam's own will, knowing that it could kill sam regardless. the cycle of grief continues in that constant reminder that dean's choice could bring sam's death. likeeeee okay. "the minute he walked through that door, i knew. it was over. you two have the most unhealthy, tangled-up, crazy thing i've ever seen and as long as he's in your life, you're never gonna be happy," and, "i'm not saying don't be close to sam. i'm close to my sister but if she got killed, i wouldn't bring her back from the dead," it's all about the atmospheres of abuse that these relationship dynamics provide!!!! you're going to fall back into it over and over again if you do not process your grief!!!!!!!

[sai-lec]

The Internet Tifosi

an informal reflection of online fan spaces by me, a recent member of the tifosi.

I love being part of the tifosi. I love the colour red. I love seeing the passion of the tifosi at races. I love Charles. I love Carlos. I love watching races and highlights from old team lineups I love the greats like Schumacher and Lauda and Prost I love Ferrari.

My path in f1 didnt start with Ferrari, it started with McLaren- my dad is a huge McLaren fan, he introduced me to Lando (and Carlos but primarily Lando) in lockdown and sure it didnt click with me right away; I watched some races with him, he showed me the highlights from the races I didnt watch with him (including several videos of Grosjean's infamous crash) and despite the fact that I wasn't heavily invested it gave us something to bond over. That September when I left home for university it gave us a reason to call each other. When I developed a genuine interest (after I decided I wasn't coming back home after I graduate university) my dad wasn't bothered by the fact that I had shown up at Christmas with a Ferrari hat on, in fact he took it off my head and tried it on himself; "do I look good as a Sainz fan?". From my dad introducing me to Lando, Carlos was the natural next step in immersing myself into the fan community. From Carlos, we found Charles and the Tifosi. I don't have many (or any) friends in real life with the same level of interest in Formula 1 that I have developed, naturally I found myself creating this blog hoping to find a community within online spaces that wasn't available to me in the digital world.

My experience within the tifosi has been... unique, to say the least. I have been engaged in online fan spaces since I was around 14- I made my Tumblr account in 2016 to talk about supernatural, before moving on to buzzed unsolved, and marvel and so on as my interests developed and changed. Within each of these communities I have found a group of people that I felt comfortable around enough to call them genuine friends. some of whom I still keep in contact with despite the fact that our interests have changed. that hasn't quite happened to the same extent with the internet's Tifosi; and there is a multitude of reasons why.

The 'Versus' Predicament

To be rather blunt for a moment- I have never been part of a community that has been filled with so much vitriol for other members, and I was part of the Marvel fandom when Civil War was released (team cap). In fact, it seem that the tifosi are constantly engaged in a Civil War of their own- devoted fans of Charles as the self-labelled Lecfosi and Team55 practically always appear to be at odds with each other. And publicly so.

It is natural for people to have a favourite driver- we've just discussed how ive come to find myself as a devotee to Team55. But as with other areas, fan spaces have seen negative impact in communication due to internet dependancy in recent years.

From my perspective, the issue appears to be a mixture of cancel culture and virtue signalling. Now cancel culture is in itself a manifestation of virtue signalling in which creators or whomever else face mass criticism and attempted deplatforming as the internet becomes aware of potentially problematic past or present behaviour; however given its internet context and usage I've elected to view it as a separate entity.

Internet fan spaces have regressed to a state of defensiveness- in order to promote and validate your approval of one subject you must justify why in comparison to another. This is where the effects of cancel culture come into play. Cancel culture reached its peak performativity during quarantine as the internet and social media became the primary method of protesting and spreading awareness of activism whilst maintaining social distancing and quarantining requirements. As morality became monitored and policed by a younger and younger average user base, it is natural that there was a bastardisation of the phenomenon resultant in the mass cancelling and calling out of any person who spoke or acted in a manner that wasn't deemed correct; not necessarily related to politics or activism at this point, I myself received an influx of mass hatred and cancellations to the point where I was borderline shunned by an entire gaming community for making a joke about everyone hating one of the event mini games ('whats everyones favourite game and why is it not buildmart').

This same mindset is so visibly present within the Tifosi today- both extremes find themselves comparing one driver to the other in order to justify their favour. For example, tensions have been high with Lecfosi and Team55 almost in a panicked state looking to justify why they chose to support their favourite driver with 'Carlos is gifted every achievement Charles would have beaten him if he wasn't held back ' and 'Ferrari fired the wrong driver' filling the comments of Ferrari's Instagram and Twitter posts. This has prompted fans to flock to defend their preferred driver, often in ways which contribute to the animosity. Drivers face this pseudo-cancellation as a result with twitter bios seeing additions of 'Carlos fans din' 'if you like CL16 unfollow me' after every race. Criticisms of the drivers themselves increase, they are placed under heavier scrutiny as the violence between fans increases leading to a never-ending circle of driver-to-fan hatred. it is seen as almost a moral failure within fan spaces to support the wrong driver.

I, personally, have witnessed arguments between fans in comment sections on tiktok- the most memorable being a 'share your favourite driver and why' tiktok in which a Carlos fan received comments of 'Well you know Charles is actually better because x y z'. (I'd like to point out this is not an antagonisation of Charles fans, but this is what actually happened nor am I excusing Team55 from the ability to make similar comment). The notable point here is that Charles was never mentioned, yet the mere fact of someone else preferring the wrong driver in this commenter's eyes lead to them purposefully targeting another Ferrai fan to chastise them on their decision effectively boiling the interaction down to 'you're not allowed to support this driver because I don't like him'.

This is where virtue signalling comes into play. For those unaware, virtue signalling is the public expression of opinion with the intent of alignment with a moral correctness. The internet especially in fanbases weaponises that frequently through the examples of 'dni of you support x' as discussed prior. The followup to that mindset is the feeling of requirement to discuss. For example, when a driver races poorly or is subjected to penalty, fan spaces will see an influx of posts demanding fans to defend their driver (How can you support him when he drives like that), mass criticising the driver (he doesn't deserve his seat why isn't he fired), or public statement of disapproval because of the social requirement to misalign yourself with the incorrect actions of another person without genuine belief behind the statement as oftentimes excuses will be made for their preferred person in a similar situation. At times it appears that the primary interaction of some people within the Tifosi is to engage in critical commentary on their disliked drivers.

Criticism? Or extreme negativity?

With call out and cancel culture leaving the political sphere it has severely impacted the positivity of fanbases as criticism becomes a primary, almost necessary, aspect of fan culture. Of course we talk about critical consumption in which you are able to analyse and evaluate the content which we consume and become aware of its biases and flaws, however this has snowballed to become criticise everything you consume. Thus, the animosity of the fan spaces rises once more.

Of course every driver is bound to face warranted criticism- the majority of the grid are socially unaware rich white men, they are destined to say or do something worth criticising. They are bound to say bitchy things and act in ways that you don't agree with because that is just the nature of humanity, everyone does these things. But that does not mean every single one of their actions are worth dissecting under the microscope. And the prevalent attitude of analysing drivers mannerisms, behaviours emotions and heat-of-the-moment radios and comments doesn't display the analytical eye a lot of people think it does.

A lot of attitudes in the 2024 spaces that I have personally seen have centred a Carlos negativity- there have been dire criticisms of the journalistic bias towards him across the first 3 races of the year. Of course, if you don't like him then you're bound to be tired of hearing about him. But what I found interesting was the theories being circulated that he was paying his way into the media or that there was a behind-the-scenes scheme to keep media interest on him. Now, a lot of people perceived this to be a theory based on the culture surrounding Sainz's family wealth and his father's influence when in reality it was likely to be because of the increased interest around his circumstances going into the season- no seat for 2025, rumoured negotiations with several teams, surgery and first non Red Bull win of the season. to analyse this situation critically is not to say 'well there must be a secret reason and I will investigate' but to recognise that journalism is reliant on attention grabbing headlines- a man with no job and no appendix winning a race while still in the post-surgery recovery period is exactly the kind of narrative that will garner clicks. It would have been the same had it have been any other driver in that specific set of circumstances. There is a difference between critical thinking and assumptive analyses and oftentimes they can become conflated in the desire to prove a point.

This is the issue- a lot of people engage analytically with media in order to suggest a particular narrative. Every person is subject to bias, and when that bias is unchecked it can lead to a lot of analysis that are reliant on theory, speculation and assumption in order to maintain the subconscious perspective of the writer. This is why we see a lot of people use demeaning nicknames towards Charles on twitter an simultaneously view Carlos as undeserving in instagram comments- the integral points of their perspective on the driver rest on the moments which will develop their narrative view of the driver as the lesser. Critical engagement cannot rest solely on one the positive or the negative, otherwise you failing to engage critically by cherry picking a perspective in order to maintain a narrative. That is tabloid journalism, or gossip, at best.

I Am In Misery

It is also just not healthy for you as a fan to consistently engage in negative commentary and discourse. I mean that seriously this is a PSA if your fan engagement sees your negative criticism and commentary of your disliked driver outweigh the time you spend enjoying your interest then you need to take a step back and reassess how you want to participate because that is not sustainable for your mental wellbeing.

This is not to say that you must never hate, you must never criticise or say anything bad about someone we all do it- it's natural. But you have to ask yourself if you truly enjoy using another driver to uplift your favourite. Aren't his accomplishments enough to validate him alone?

Ive noticed a complete lack of will to celebrate- in my inbox right now are maybe around 15 asks all talking about how I shouldn't be happy with this weekends performance or else I dont understand F1. I argue the inverse,

I understand F1. I understand that this weekend was not the best performance Ferrari had to offer. I understand the impact of the team racing each other and Carlos' aggression during the sprint. And I have mentioned as much. However, I choose to focus on the positive aspects of the weekend. The tyre management from both drivers was impeccable to gain 2 positions each and maintain them finishing on tyres that were 40 laps old. They made an excellent recovery from the mishaps in qualifying that ultimately earned the team and themselves more points. We maintain 2nd in the constructors championship and 3rd and 4th in the drivers. There are issues that need to be discussed and resolved but ultimately this is not the worlds worst performance.

F1 is entertainment. I want to win, I want to succeed but I also want to be entertained. My mental health has seen a series uptick since I decided to directly seek entertainment. Sure, the drivers shouldn't have been racing the way they were, it had the potential to put both cars in a detrimental position, but it sure does make things more interesting!!! There's almost a sense of parasocialism within the community- a lot of people are hesitant to look for relief beyond the emotions of their favourite driver, and subsequently view every race as a failure in some aspect (just outside of the podium, on the podium but not p1, could've done better if it wasn't for xyz) and that negatively affects their experience as a fan and for other fans who don't share that perspective. It's almost like people have forgotten to enjoy the race, they're so preoccupied with looking for something to criticise.

Now this isn't to say you're not allowed to enjoy critical assessments of the success of races. But thats not what the majority of us are posting (it might be what some of you think you're posting, but you're not). I love watching video essays on races that are done properly with acknowledgement and awareness of bias. I don't love reading posts along the lines of 'why this race actually sucked' (not a real example) because it's not built from an analytical or critical perspective, just a discussion of the race and outcome through a lens of destructive pessimism.

End

This behaviour isn't specific to the Tifosi, it's an internet wide phenomenon. But I've chosen to directly comment on it here because as I said, I've never sen a community with so much hatred for itself. As of 2024, we are all on the same team right now. We have the right to hold our own opinions of the drivers and express those. We do not have the right to argue on the validity of other fans preferences, we do not have the right to directly enter fan spaces (ie the main tags) and spread destructive negativity about a driver nor do we have the right to harass blogs for whom they chose to support.

The inherent negativity is so calamitous to the community. It perpetuates the infighting, it furthers the negative narratives we have constructed of drivers, it only contributes to divide the community as both sides earn reputations of being toxic towards each other. And to an extent, yes . It is true, and that is disappointing. You have the right to choose your favourite driver. However, Charles and Carlos are both talented drivers- there is no need to drag one down to uplift the other. It is instigating behaviour and I'm sure a lot of people comment in that manner purposefully.

Be aware of your parasocial connection to a driver. if you find yourself criticising a driver for an action that you would not criticise your favourite for executing ask yourself why you view the action as negative circumstantially. If you are only able to assess races based on what could have happened, what better could have happened then ask yourself if you find this enriching; do you leave race weekends feeling good and excited for the next race or soured because things might have been better under different circumstances. Don't ignore the problems, acknowledge them and say but what are the positives as opposed to letting the failures undermine the successes.

just have a bit of fucking fun once in a while PLEASE .

as an endnote: I do recognise that the majority of insights and examples I have given in this reflection have been at the expense of team 55, again I would like to reiterate that as someone who primarily finds themself in 55 spaces I a naturally experience a greater exposure to negativity towards that driver as it usually tends to be maintagged or sent directly to myself or other 55 centric blogs. Just as the CL16 community is more likely to be exposed to and remember hatred towards Charles. In no way am I insinuating that 55 fans are incapable of or have not acted in the the same nature, to Charles' detriment. The toxicity remains prevalent on both extremes of the community.

this is a mass response to the people in my inbox thank you for your patience I didnt want to answer like 15 different asks about everything in slightly different ways

[xaeydnquartz]

Part of me kinda wants to stop DMing my first and current campaign? IDK just need to vent

So, brief expo. like many, got into CR during the pandemic (mainly due to "The Legend of Vox Machina" which lead to me actually bingeing the all 3 campaigns) During which time a friend (who was in my immediate friend group but like the rest of my friend group, i didnt really feel close to) told me that he was really into CR as well. As a fresh new critter, i was stoked. Was able to share my blossoming love of CR with someone (FINALLY!) during which we both mentioned how D&D looked so much fun and that it would be really great to be able to play and ooo what if we got our friends together and played.

After which we discussed, if we did, who would be DM? Seeing as how none of our friends really played D&D our talk lead to either my friend or me and after asking the question "Which do you think you would prefer more?" It was clear i would try my hand at DMing (i like lore in games, and i like storytelling, and im a tad bit of a control freak at times, lol)

Anyway, we eventually got in touch with our close knit of friends, and though i intended to be a standard 6 we suddenly had an 8 party party (and that was with me having to tell even less close friends there wasnt room).

Feeling it would still be manageable (as there was precedent that i could pull inspo from, CR) i began planning a rough idea of a campaign and working with my friends to create their characters and running a session 0 so we were all on the same page. You know standard stuff.

-Fast Forward to current date and time-

It has its stressful moments, but i still am able to enjoy the time with my friends for the most part (though theres a lot of times were ive never felt lonelier) Which brings me to the whole point of the post, my need to vent to the void about this loneliness. Nobody really gets in touch or interacts with me at all. Not to talk about the campaign or even collab on their characters. The most i get are occasional critiques about how i could have done something better couple sessions prior and request to add another person to the 8 person party. When we have sessions, people show up late quite often, leave early quite often, have to cancel as they have other things they are doing (even though we planned and scheduled weeks prior) and even when people are there they somtimes feel like they arent always present. i already feel extremely distant from all of them as they all live closer to each other while i live on the totally opposite side of the state and theyve known each other way longer than i have, but the minimal interactions they have with me, the DM/GM of all people, just continues to add to all of it I know we all are busy with our lives, and that compared to those things D&D is really not that big of a deal or important. And i get that, it is just a game afterall, but it still manages to hit pretty hard

I've communicated my feelings through our time of this campaign, if im being honest, maybe not this indepth. I mean, its partially because i barely see or talk to them (again life gets in the way) but also because i feel extremely guilty for putting this kind of tension to something we are all supposed to be enjoying and relaxing to. Its especially painful as most recently 2 players, who said they would get in touch with me about changes possibly being being made to their characters, never got in touch in anyway shape or form, and its been about a month now? And session is in a week...i didnt even get much as a reply back. Idk, its been almost about a year now and i felt i just needed to get this out somewhere other than debating myself.

Thanks for listening tumblr.

[cazuela-time]

Ok so I've been having a sexuality crisis now that i got a boyfriend and got to experience stuff with a guy. I thought about it a lot and i reached the conclusion that a) i like him platonically, and b) I'm probably a lesbian. and i was super sure about it today but i saw the quiet place movie a few hours ago and i love male characters that are so wet and pathetic - but like, in a cat kinda way?? Like i would kiss them but in the same sense i would kiss my cat for being cute. Not in a particularly romantic sense but i do think that they're very cute?

Anyway i was thinking that and being like shit maybe im not actually gay if i like these male characters - i obviously like their personalities and shiet but the thing that makes me really like em is their look

By look i mean wet and pathetic, bloodied or fucked up in some sense, tired and nerdy looking (eric from quiet place, newt from pacific rim,etc) and then i has a small thought non thought? Like i thought it but it caught me by surprise, because for a second i was like "i wish i was him" and the thing is im non binary in the sense that i dont percieve my gender - HAVE I JUST WANTED TO LOOK LIKE THEM THIS WHOLE TIME ARE YOU KIDDING ME? IS THAT IT?? I WANTED TO STEAL THEIR GENDER PRESENTATION?

Im being so fr i always thought they were cute and so i assumed it was attraction. Did i confuse gender envy with attraction?? I am having a crisis.

WHAT EVEN IS ATTRACTION IM SO CONFUSED.

Like, i like how these brand of fictional guy look - their personalities and aesthetic are very appealing to me and sometimes i like them to the point of wanting to put them in my pocket and like, squeeze them like a little stress ball.

And if i think about real guys in my life, ive liked 3 guys -

first one i have absolutely no recollection but my mum said i had a crush so whatever (also fun fact a lil boy tried to kiss me as a toddler and apparently i wanted to NOT so bad that i got a head injury by banging my head on furniture while backing up FAST lol).

Second was in elementary and we were friends. I dont remember liking him before i asked who he liked to make conversation but i remember i thought he implied he liked me and i liked him from there on (which was like two hours lol) and later when he admited it was another girl i felt heartbroken but i immediately got over it lmao.

And last was in high school - we were becoming fast friends and i liked him a lot, but when i thought about like kissing him and stuff i got this nervous feeling like it was wrong somehow. Also i chose a guy to like in middle school but i dont count that one.

To me, all these seem very shallow? But i dont know if thats normal or if im remembering wrong or remembering what i want to remember or what.

But if i think ab it, i could never have sex with them i think. And this applies to all men ive met too - If i imagine it the whole thing feels cold,,,like detached? Like i guess it'd be fine and we would be closer as a result (like, to bond?) But i dont think it'd be particularly fun?

THEN IF I COMPARE IT TO WOMEN i dont really like many female characters? Like I'm struggling to think of any i really really like besides Grace from ready or not and Pearl from pearl (and Maxine from x and Amber from Scream - the blood thing and that they can kill is cool ngl) and while I've thought about a friend like "i wish we could be together forever" type of thing, ive never had a crush on a girl -

But if i think about sex, if i picture it with a girl, it seems warm. Like it'd be very peaceful and like joyful? Like it would be fun. But its similar to when i think of it with men: it has no passion? Is that wrong? Am i not supposed to be passionate about it?

The hardest part is that i can't figure it out because I DONT FEEL ANYTHING?? WITH ANYONE???? PEOPLE TELL ME THEY LOOK AT CERTAIN PPL AND THEY THINK "oh yeah i wanna fuck and kiss that person" and im like WHAT??? IVE NEVER IN MY LIFE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT??? i look at people and im like, yes, thats a person who is good looking, but nothing else?????

Like, i read and love nagata kabi's works and she has this part about how she and other people have a lust thing? And i looked at that and was so confused because I've never felt anything like that - bit i related to a lot of things she says. So maybe I'm asexual?? Or demisexual???

So yeah, im confused as fuck.

I somehow feel like I'm a lesbian (i literally made a huge list detailing every sapphic occurrence in my life, like for example the fact that my one and only "sex dream" was about a blonde girl in a bathtub) but i also kinda feel like what if I'm wrong? What if I'm lying to myself and I'm actually straight or bisexual?

[luckyshouse]

your post about did helped me a lot i may or may not be a system but i have some people show up in my head sometimes and ones been around for a while so it means a lot to me and validating as im still very confused about it so thank you

of course! im more than happy that it helped. i speak from experience, i've been diagnosed with severe ptsd since i was twelve, and psychiatrists/therapists have brought up DID in the past, but for years i rejected the idea because i simply just don't line up with the typical presentations of DID. ive never felt like i had more than one person in my body, i've never had obvious or noticable switches, and everything i've ever done, i've always held a "oh yeah that sounds like me i did that" mentality, even if i didn't remember directly doing it. a lot of my DID symptoms are more internal than external, but even when it is internal, my alters do not come to me in the figures of people or even "Characters" most of the time. Just a large rotating wheel of concepts and aesthetics and occasionally kins, but even the kinning part is less about the character and more about the metaconcepts of the character and the tropes.

we live in a society in america that encourages people to bisect their identity even without DID, and i think that has contributed a lot to peoples experiences as well. even if you get all the help you can for PTSD, or feel like your trauma isn't that bad, the way society is set up to encourage you to splinter your identity and keep them seperate. that mixed with trauma is absolutely how you end up developing DID, and i think it's something thats left out of DID conversations all the time. another thing i think isn't spoken about enough is that DID is never the same as someone elses, and is primarily based on your preferred forms of escapism while you were a developing child. i believe the idea of DID having multiple people in one body may actually come from the older sorts of systems that existed before the internet, and before larger forms of escapism became common. with the internet, i feel like that's broadened the way people could develop DID as well, since it's easier than ever to get into rp spaces, or make ocs, or pretend to be different people, or distance yourself from your body. i know people whos alters genuinely do not come to them as characters, they embody themselves as a large processing machine and their "alters" are different apps they run on the computer for different tasks. when i was told about their experience, it sort of clicked for me, that this isn't a disorder about having "more people" in your brain, but an organizational system for your trauma and reactions/beliefs. it will always and forever be based off of how you existed as a child, and it never will fall under the rules of what people will try to tell you.

i think a lot of "syscourse" on tumblr has lead to a really terrible awful idea of what DID is and how someone can experience it, and has convinced people that they need to seek out "fake" systems. but even if a system WAS faking, they are still undeniably a person with PTSD and identity issues, and i don't see why assuming they are fake would help anyone in that situation. they still need help, they still need to cope, and they'd likely still benefit from plurality spaces. people see it as a very black and white issue, when in reality its like no system will ever be the same as the other, none of them will communicate the same, none of them will ever experience the same exact things, and this is because dissociative systems literally are based off of the persons family and life dynamics. no one lives the same life twice. there for no system exists the same twice.

i hope you have a good day! and i hope the ppl that show up in your head have a good one too

[frecklystars]

my chest is aching and i am so sad bc i miss my starlight so much. but at the same time my heart is so full. i just spent almost seven hours with my friends. seven hours! i told them how ive been feeling and they didnt let me hold back. i felt like they were physically helping me to carry the burdens ive been holding by myself. they reassured me about my starlight multiple times, and half of them arent even self shippers, but they empathized with me heavily. they all held me when i cried and they told me it is going to be okay. not just about the grief of missing my F/Os ive lost, but just, in general, that everything will be okay. everything. and two of those friends who were present, i genuinely think they're two of the smartest people i have ever met in my life. they spent a long ass time analyzing my comfort characters, saying "okay logically, realistically, [F/O] would comfort you and love you, and here is why, and here is how. and no, they wouldn't harm you or manipulate you or betray you, and here is the logical reason why." if they say i'm gonna be okay, then... who am i to question or doubt them?

they also spent an hour helping me figure out how to print edible ink/glitter onto wafer paper so i would be able to bake heart-shaped cookies for my barbie/ken anniversary and transfer photos of them onto the cookies! they were so excited to hear about my anniversary coming up and they thought it would be so cute if i baked for my sweethearts ;u; they know how important it is to me because they know it's been 2 years since i've celebrated any F/O anniversary. and any time i got weepy they'd immediately hold me. and when i'd try to apologize, they'd refuse to even let me say a word, telling me to vent. so i vented for maybe a minute and cut myself off and they were like "no that's not all of it. keep going" and every few minutes when i'd stop myself, or try to downplay my feelings and change the topic, they'd say "no. no, you're not done. we know you've been through way more shit than that. keep talking, come on, we're here. you're not burdening us, we promise, keep talking keri." until i finally let everything out and they all held me and let me cry and rubbed my back. told me my F/Os would never harm me and why. told me how my IRL and online friends would never harm me, how they completely understand what im going through bc they've been through the same exact things as me. told me how barbie and ken are still here for me and how starlight is still here for me and how they're here for me...

i feel so sad yet so comforted at the same time. ive cried so much today but i cried surrounded by people who held me and made me feel genuinely listened to and cared for. and during the times when we werent venting, we were exchanging art, we were laughing, i dont think ive laughed like that in a while. one friend in that group stayed an extra three hours just because we were having so much fun together and we didn't want to sleep yet. she's one of the most fun and caring and kind people i've ever met. i got her hooked onto driver, and i'm pretty sure she's gonna get me hooked on the vampire from bg3 one of these days haha

celebrating my anniversary with barbie and ken is going to feel really bittersweet, but ive planned a lot. im going to really allow myself to feel loved that day and i think ill feel even more loved because those cookies are going to be made with the people who love me and who have been protecting me and promising me theyre always going to make sure i feel safe and secure with them. if i can feel this way with IRL people who i trust, i can feel this way with F/Os again too. yeah, even the ones that are triggers, i will reclaim them too. i know the love has to still be there somewhere, even if i dont feel it, even if im scared and numb and bitter. it takes time and it takes work but mlp was right bro... friendship really is magic and i know if i have them with me im gonna be ok. ;-; wah. im gonna burst into tears again augh. god. ok i better try to sleep. goodnight ilu

[jjkamochoso]

Hi :) can could you do about Isao shinomiya pls?

Yes I absolutely can!! Thanks so much for requesting, I really hope you like this lil story I've written :) it's my first time writing for him so I'm praying I got the characterization down lol <3

Dreaming of the Director

Fluff

Isao Shinomiya x gn!reader

You feel disheartened when Director General Shinomiya tells you you're not doing well enough in training. Little did you know that the reason behind his harshness wasn't stemming from hatred...

Warnings: mention of hospital settings/medical tests/IVs (nothing graphic)

"You were sloppy; the wide steps you took were horrendous. Practice those moves again."

You didn't think your body could take anymore. You had been training under the guidance of Director General Shinomiya for many months now and today was no different than any of the other days you'd learned from him. Your routine consisted of spending every waking hour in the gym, doing cardio outside, or practicing fighting techniques and to say you were exhausted would be a complete understatement. You didn't want to give in to the fatigue as you knew it was an honor to be by his side in this capacity, but you were practically running on empty at this point.

"Director," you panted, sweat rolling down your back, "all due respect but I don't know how much more I have in me."

His face remained unchanged from its usual stone cold expression. "No excuses, Captain. Do it again."

And so you did.

Some (okay, most) days it felt like Shinomiya hated you. You tried to convince yourself that if he did, he wouldn't have kept giving you, a Defense Force captain, chance after chance to do better the next day, but your fears of never being good enough for him stayed at the forefront of your mind. You bent your knees and got back into position, ready to try the drill again. It felt like Shinomiya's icy glare was burning holes in your back as you bounced around, evading attacks from imaginary foe. When you were finished, you were afraid to meet his eyes, nervous to hear his feedback.

"L/n, are you even listening to any of the criticism I give you? You're leaving yourself vulnerable to the enemy with every punch you throw. Run it again."

You wanted to cry. Your muscles were on fire and you were so sluggish that it felt like your blood turned to cement in your veins. Still, you pushed on. You couldn't disappoint Isao.

"Yes, sir," you whispered, taking up stance once more. This time, you knew exactly where you went wrong all the times you practiced this prior. You readjusted your stance midway through the next move, but you realized you messed up again. Feeling your foot slip from beneath you, you tumbled to the ground, whacking your head on the hard floor. Dazed and enervated, you closed your eyes, savoring the cooling effect the floor had on your body.

"Get up, L/n," barked the director, but for once in your life, you ignored his order. It wouldn't hurt to rest for a second longer...

You felt strong hands grip your shoulders, your spent body shaking like a rag doll as you were pulled away from the oasis you created in your mind.

"L/n. Hey. Wake up."

You then registered the feeling of someone lightly slapping your face and your eyes fluttered open. Shinomiya was crouched over you, his bearded face just inches away from your own. His expression was mostly the same as always except this time, there was a new emotion present that you detected in his yellow eyes, if only for a moment--concern.

"You passed out. I'm taking you to the medic."

He was straight to the point as per usual. You really didn't want to inconvenience him or have him look down on you more than he probably already did, so you tried to convince him your condition was stable.

"No, sir, I promise I'm alright. That was a long enough break, I can go again."

His voice was stern. "You're going to the medic and that's an order. I'll write you up if you disobey."

You gulped, nodding in compliance. Isao swiftly lifted you off the ground, allowing you to lean on him as he walked you to the med bay. You didn't know if it was because of your tired physical and mental state or what, but having Shinomiya so close to you was making your heart skip a few beats; the tight, almost protective, hold he had on you certainly wasn't helping you breathe any easier either. You'd thought he was handsome since the day you laid eyes on him, but it was just a simple crush. He was so unattainable for you, being both the Director General and totally emotionally cut off from everybody and everything after the death of his wife all those years ago. You ignored the aching feeling of your heart in favor of focusing on the more favorable aching of the rest of your body. When you finally made it to the medical building, all the doctors rushed over at the sight of Isao, anxious to help the most important man in the Defense Force.

"You," Shinomiya said, pointing to the first doctor that had shown up, "give L/n a once-over, please. They were training too hard and passed out."

"Right away, sir."

You were immediately ushered to a big room with a comfy bed, all perks of being accompanied by the Director General. As tests were being run on you, you valiantly fought the urge to fall asleep on the bed whose cozy sheets were calling your name. Shinomiya said nothing the whole time, his gaze fixated out the window as he looked deep in thought. Finally, the doctor came back in with your results.

"You're just really dehydrated," she explained, reading the chart on her clipboard. "We'll start an IV for ya and you'll be good to go in no time. Sound alright?"

You nodded in agreement and she got to work. When your IV was pumping much needed fluids into your body, you laughed joylessly.

"All this was caused because I didn't drink enough water? I really can't do anything right, can I?" You slapped a hand across your face in despair.

"Don't speak like that," scolded Shinomiya, "you do things right most of the time. You're much more useful than you give yourself credit for."

You tried not to let your jaw hang open in shock. That had to have been the nicest thing he'd ever said to you!

"Thank you, Director," you breathed out, still not believing your ears. Shinomiya grunted in response, his attention turned back to whatever was happing outside your window. You craned your neck to see what he was looking at, wondering what outside could possibly pique the man's interest so much.

"If I do most things right," you spoke up after some time, "then how come I can't nail your training? There's gotta be a reason I'm never good enough for you."

You didn't mean to tack on that last sentence out loud but you were curious about why your training never landed you praise, even when you did well. You could tell Shinomiya was trying to choose his next words carefully.

"I think you're a very smart, powerful captain with a promising future within the Defense Force. I have to push you beyond your limit so when you’re sent out to neutralize kaiju you don’t…” He was hesitant, more so than you’d ever seen before. “So you don’t die. It’s our duty to lay our lives on the line for the betterment of society and as you know, I’ve lost many people close to me because of that.”

He sucked in a breath. “I refuse to lose you too, y/n.”

You were absolutely shocked for the second time in a few minutes. Shinomiya used your first name while basically telling you he cared for you. You were wondering if you were hallucinating all of this but the warm, comforting hand on your shoulder proved to you the situation you were in was all too real.

“Get some rest. I’m giving you tomorrow off but I’ll see you at 5am sharp the next day.”

He removed his hand and vacated the room, but not before you spotted something strange blossoming on his face.

The tiniest curl of his lips, indicating a smile.

You wore your own smile as well as you ruminated on Shinomiya’s admission. He would most likely never state his true feelings for you outright, but this was a very pleasant start and would serve as motivation for you to work even harder in your training. You absentmindedly stared out the window when something in the distance caught your eye. It must’ve been what the Director was looking at as well since it was a beautiful sight. Most of the military base you were on was made from concrete, but in one of the cracks grew the most glorious flowers. The blooms were a brilliant shade of yellow that reminded you of the hair color of Isao’s daughter, Kikoru. It was then you realized there were three flowers, two smaller and one big, and the large one loomed over the others as if it were guarding them, shielding them the best it could without stunting their growth. The world was full of metaphors and you chose to believe this one represented Isao watching over you and Kikoru. Your head fell back on your pillow, ready for much needed sleep, and the image of Isao smiling led you into many pleasant dreams.

[needle-thread-thimble-spear]

I've been trying to read about maids (and other servants), both as a personal interest and research for a work of fiction ive been drafting and redrafting for a long time. One of the first things I've read to that end is the original 1922 edition of Emily Post (Etiquette In Society, In Politics, and at Home). I'm not finished reading it, but it's been a very interesting look into 1920's high society- both by what the author puts proudly on paper, and what she suggests as a matter of course. For instance, there is a lot of humor in it where she might say something fairly clever or witty, but you can also tell that half the examples of "what you shouldn't do" are just poorly disguised attacks on people she personally despises in her own life. Also you get to see where the author brazenly exposes her classism/racism/misogyny, and the subtle ways those things are revealed just by nature of the social structure she is prescribing.

Anyway, I thought I'd post my thoughts on the chapter most devoted to a housekeeping staff (which is chapter 12, The Well Appointed House). This is a somewhat long post so more below the cut if you're interested! I'm afraid I'm not much of a historian, so my thoughts are rather brief, but I hope it's interesting anyway.

Every house has an outward appearance to be made as presentable as possible, an interior continually to be set in order, and incessantly to be cleaned. And for those that dwell within it there are meals to be prepared and served; linen to be laundered and mended; personal garments to be brushed and pressed; and perhaps children to be cared for. There is also a door-bell to be answered in which manners as well as appearance come into play.

The personality of a house is indefinable, but there never lived a lady of great cultivation and charm whose home, whether a palace, a farm-cottage or a tiny apartment, did not reflect the charm of its owner. Every visitor feels impelled to linger, and is loath to go. Houses without personality are a series of rooms with furniture in them. Sometimes their lack of charm is baffling; every article is "correct" and beautiful, but one has the feeling that the decorator made chalk-marks indicating the exact spot on which each piece of furniture is to stand. Other houses are filled with things of little intrinsic value, often with much that is shabby, or they are perhaps empty to the point of bareness, and yet they have that "inviting" atmosphere, and air of unmistakable quality which is an unfailing indication of high-bred people.

The subject of furnishings is however the least part of this chapter—appointments meaning decoration being of less importance (since this is not a book on architecture or decoration!), than appointments meaning service.

While the bulk of this chapter is devoted to detailing the structure of a house staff, and how best you (a well bred lady) should manage that staff, the chapter begins with advice on how to furnish your house in good taste. While this didn't immediately occur to me on the first read, I think it says quite a bit about the attitude of the author that "the things in your house" and "the people you employ to maintain those things" are lumped into the same category.

In very "beautifully done" houses (all the dresses of the maids are furnished them), the color of the uniforms is chosen to harmonize with the dining-room. At the Gildings', Jr., for instance, where there are no men servants because Mr. Gilding does not like them, but where the house is as perfect as a picture on the stage, the waitress and parlor-maid wear in the blue and yellow dining-room, dresses of Nattier blue taffeta with aprons and collars and cuffs of plain hemstitched cream-colored organdie, that is as transparent as possible; blue stockings and patent leather slippers with silver buckles, their hair always beautifully smooth. Sometimes they wear caps and sometimes not, depending upon the waitress' appearance. Twenty years ago, every maid in a lady's house wore a cap except the personal maid, who wore (and still does) a velvet bow, or nothing. But when every little slattern in every sloppy household had a small mat of whitish Swiss pinned somewhere on an untidy head, and was decked out in as many yards of embroidery ruffling on her apron and shoulders as her person could carry, fashionable ladies began taking caps and trimmings off, and exacting instead that clothes be good in cut and hair be neatly arranged. A few ladies of great taste dress their maids according to individual becomingness; some faces look well under a cap, others look the contrary. A maid whose hair is rather fluffy—especially if it is dark—looks pretty in a cap, particularly of the coronet variety. No one looks well in a doily laid flat, but fluffy fair hair with a small mat tilted up against a knot of hair dressed high can look very smart. A young woman whose hair is straight and rebellious to order, can be made to look tidy and even attractive in a headdress that encircles the whole head. A good one for this purpose has a very narrow ruche from 9 to 18 inches long on either side of a long black velvet ribbon. The ruche goes part way, or all the way, around the head, and the velvet ribbon ties, with streamers hanging down the back. On the other hand, many extremely pretty young women with hair worn flat do not look well in caps of any description—except "Dutch" ones which are, in most houses, too suggestive of fancy dress. If no caps are worn the hair must be faultlessly smooth and neat; and of course where two or more maids are seen together, they must be alike. It would not do to have one wear a cap and the other not.

To continue that thought, maids and dolls do have a lot in common, I suppose. As a side note, the author uses pseudonyms for some of her close friends when she is discussing specific examples, I wonder if a contemporary reader would easily be able to determine who she is writing about or not. Anyway, this section particularly sickens me, with reference to Mr. Gilding and his preferences. This detail is thrown in, as an afterthought, but leaves so much misogyny unsaid. Maybe Mr. Gilding doesn't need a valet, and would feel gay having some guy picking out his clothes or whatever. But why should that preference extend to the rest of the staff? Etiquette is full of little surprises like this. To continue with this train of thought of maids as an extension of the self-

The well-bred maid instinctively makes little of a guest's accident, and is as considerate as the hostess herself. Employees instinctively adopt the attitude of their employer.

Regardless,

Are maids allowed to receive men friends? Certainly they are! Whoever in remote ages thought it was better to forbid "followers" the house, and have Mary and Selma slip out of doors to meet them in the dark, had very distorted notions to say the least. And any lady who knows so little of human nature as to make the same rule for her maids to-day is acting in ignorant blindness of her own duties to those who are not only in her employ but also under her protection.

At least Post is not advocating for this kind of control over the lives of her staff, but now we know this happens often enough it needed to be remarked on.

Unless he is an old-time colored servant in the South a butler who wears a "dress suit" in the daytime is either a hired waiter who has come in to serve a meal, or he has never been employed by persons of position; and it is unnecessary to add that none but vulgarians would employ a butler (or any other house servant) who wears a mustache! To have him open the door collarless and in shirt-sleeves is scarcely worse!

I'm not so equipped to dissect this passage, as I'm admittedly not so equipped with the context a contemporary reader would have with how this comparison is meant to come across, but it doesn't feel like its a very flattering one at all. Again, I'm not really well equipped to be doing a deep dive on this. So while the above passages reveal the author's attitude subtly, those below I feel do it directly. I present them without comment.

A rule can't be given because there isn't any. As said in another chapter, a well-bred person always lives within the walls of his personal reserve, a vulgarian has no walls—or at least none that do not collapse at the slightest touch. But those who think they appear superior by being rude to others whom fortune has placed below them, might as well, did they but know it, shout their own unexalted origin to the world at large, since by no other method could it be more widely published.

But before going into the various details of service, it might be a good moment to speak of the unreasoning indignity cast upon the honorable vocation of a servant. There is an inexplicable tendency, in this country only, for working people in general to look upon domestic service as an unworthy, if not altogether degrading vocation. The cause may perhaps be found in the fact that this same scorning public having for the most part little opportunity to know high-class servants, who are to be found only in high-class families, take it for granted that ignorant "servant girls" and "hired men" are representative of their kind. Therefore they put upper class servants in the same category—regardless of whether they are uncouth and illiterate, or persons of refined appearance and manner who often have considerable cultivation, acquired not so much at school as through the constant contact with ultra refinement of surroundings, and not infrequently through the opportunity for world-wide travel. And yet so insistently has this obloquy of the word "servant" spread that every one sensitive to the feelings of others avoids using it exactly as one avoids using the word "cripple" when speaking to one who is slightly lame. Yet are not the best of us "servants" in the Church? And the highest of us "servants" of the people and the State? To be a slattern in a vulgar household is scarcely an elevated employment, but neither is working in a sweat-shop, or belonging to a calling that is really degraded; which is otherwise about all that equal lack of ability would procure. On the other hand, consider the vocation of a lady's maid or "courier" valet and compare the advantages these enjoy (to say nothing of their never having to worry about overhead expenses), with the opportunities of those who have never been out of the "factory" or the "store" or further away than the adjoining town in their lives. As for a nurse, is there any vocation more honorable? No character in E.F. Benson's "Our Family Affairs" is more beautiful or more tenderly drawn than that of "Beth," who was not only nurse to the children of the Archbishop of Canterbury but one of the most dearly beloved of the family's members—her place was absolutely next to their mother's in the very heart of the household always. Two years ago, Anna, who had for a lifetime been Mrs. Gilding's personal maid, died. Every engagement of that seemingly frivolous family was cancelled, even the invitations for their ball. Not one of the family but mourned for what she truly was, their humble but nearest friend. Would it have been so much better, so much more dignified, for these two women, who lived long useful years in closest association with every cultivating influence of life, to have lived on in their native villages and worked in a factory, or to have had a little store of their own? Does this false idea of dignity—since it is false—go so far as that?

Thank you for reading! There is a lot more one could discuss in that chapter, some of which I initially included but left out. I might return to this, after reading the full text, or if people are curious about it.

Oh, and you can read the full text yourself here on Project Gutenberg!

[quirkle2]

I was wondering if there are any rare happy ritsu moments in ur zombie au since hes always miserable I think,, like is he always miserable or is he happy/not miserable and feeling kinda good sometimes?

VWHDGDGD NO YEAH OFC HE'S HAPPY SOMETIMES im just horrible and enjoy putting him through misery

ive never been able to get a genuine smile to look right on his face in my art style either i think thats part of it. as ive said his face is just built to be mildly uncomfortable and bothered and i lean into it sm it's starting to get kinda funny

but yes ritsu is happy plenty! i think, canonically, he just seems like the type of person to me that tends to turn lemonade back into lemons. he's easy to scare and his first reaction to things is often Dread and Anxiety. he dwells on the negatives a lot and seems to be a "hope for the best, expect the worst," kinda guy, but there's a section in this post abt shigeo always loving the little things in life, and ritsu steadily learns throughout the journey on how to do that and how healing it can rly be. even if he had to grow up too fast during this whole thing and learn things a kid should never have to, the journey also gave him some good insight and lessons in other places! ritsu is smart, he figures it all out

in terms of little things here n there he's the happiest lil guy on the planet when he finds one of his favorite foods—swings his legs while he sits and munches on a kitkat bar like he's got absolutely nothin in the world to worry abt. sometimes mob does smth funny that he laughs at; for the longest time i've had this silly image in my head of mob accidentally knocking down a bucket from a store shelf and it lands on his head and he just kinda stands there and makes noises.when the noises continue out of pure curiosity about the weird echoey quality it's giving them ritsu cannot help but lose it

besides tiny things tho, when tome comes around ritsu in general is a lot happier, just cuz he has somebody to talk to that will actually respond in some way. they're sorta reluctant partners in crime at first (at least on ritsu's end) but over time and over bonding they grow to rly like each other's presence. they bicker constantly but it's almost always fond eventually, and they shove each other and playfight until mob gets antsy enough to get worked up about it. rly, tome is a godsend to ritsu's mental health—after months and months of being effectively alone with his thoughts, he finally has another person to converse with. a person His Age, too!

tome is rly good at knowing when ritsu is thinkin himself into oblivion and she's Also rly good at being the most annoying girl on the planet to yank him outta that and replace any misery with Oh My God Get Off Me You Freak. she doesn't even do this on purpose at first, but over time she learns how to tell when he's thinking too hard and, ofc, she's grown attached and she cares, so she's as obnoxious as possible to lighten the mood

when they find reigen n teru, ritsu gradually gets Much happier still. now that he knows they're safe and the gang is finally back together (and now that there's an Adult present and he can relax a lil and let himself be taken care of) his stress levels r exponentially lowered. having teru back is another instant lift to his mood—im always a big fan of teru and ritsu friendship, and i think adding tome to their dynamic simply makes it more chaotic. truly a trio of the 3 most normal teenagers in existence which will surely bring nothing but good (reigen sweats offscreen)

actually this makes me feel bad for forever torturing him im gonna go draw happy zau ritsus brb ,.,.ok imback <3