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hoshifighting · 3 months ago

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𖧷 crybaby

— synopsis: seungcheol can’t help but be a crybaby every time you break his heart, yet he always comes running back to you, desperate for your attention. even when you leave him cold for days or push him away, he can’t seem to stay away. his friends and family don’t get it—they hate how you treat him.

— WC: 4.6k — WARNINGS: agnst, smut, emotionallly detached!reader, emotionally attached!seungcheol, crying, he kind of pisses his friends and family out because of his whiny ass, explicit language, blowjob, cock riding, clit stimulation, face slapping, choking. — inspired by: cry baby by megan thee stallion — ''his friends and his dad hate me, I broke his lil' heart, he's a crybaby"

seungcheol was such a fucking crybaby. like, how does a man that big, that beefy, built like he could crush a watermelon between his thighs, have the emotional resilience of a damp tissue? 5′10 of pure gym dedication and somehow, here he was, sulking like a kicked puppy in the corner of his own damn birthday party. honestly, you broke his heart so many times you’d lost count, but the man was like a boomerang—always came back. didn’t matter how hard you threw him.

his friends absolutely hated you. well, maybe hate was strong—more like they hated how he acted because of you. jeonghan said you lived rent-free in his head, which you knew was true. but the real kicker was his family. they couldn’t stand hearing your name. apparently, he cried into his whiskey glass over you at his last family dinner. like, straight-up sniffles and shaky voice in front of his dad. the boys’ nights weren’t any better; they’d barely crack open a soju bottle before seungcheol was teary-eyed, rambling about you like you were the love of his life and not the emotional hurricane you were.

but that’s the thing, though. seungcheol was built for family. the whole package—white picket fence, Sunday brunches, PTA meetings. meanwhile, you were emotionally unavailable as fuck. couldn’t even commit to a favorite boba flavor, let alone a relationship. and now, you’d ghosted him for a week. a whole-ass week. no texts, no calls, not even the stupid memes you usually sent him at 3 a.m.

today was his birthday. his fucking birthday.

the party at his place was in full swing—laughter, good food, good drinks, jeonghan and mingyu lowkey roasting him about his “girlfriend” (air quotes and all). his parents were there too, of course. his brother had even flown in. but cheol barely moved from the couch all night. just sat there, one arm slung over the backrest, looking at his phone like a guy waiting for a miracle.

because in his head, if you were his girlfriend—like, properly his—you’d be here. with him. celebrating, holding his hand, maybe sitting in his lap. but instead, he got radio silence.

“bro, seriously, what the fuck is your problem?” jeonghan hissed, leaning over the couch to snatch the beer from cheol’s hand. “your mom’s asking why you look like you’re about to cry into the birthday cake.”

“i’m fine,” cheol muttered, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

“no, you’re not. you’ve checked your phone like a hundred times, and it’s giving ‘sad loser.’ cut it out before mingyu makes a meme out of you.”

but cheol didn’t cut it out. he just stared at the screen, lips pulled into a pout so tragic it could’ve been a fucking Greek play. the hours dragged. one by one, people started leaving, and eventually, it wasn’t even his birthday anymore.

august 9th. 9:54 p.m.

cheol sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking like he was about to combust.

and then, his phone buzzed.

one message.

from: future girlfriend ❤️ - “come over.”

that’s it. two words, no explanation. cheol shot up from the couch so fast he nearly knocked over the coffee table.

jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “where the hell are you going?”

cheol didn’t answer. he was already grabbing his keys, muttering something about how he’d “she texted me.”

he hard his friend groan out in defeat, disappointment, some even surprised that seungcheol would leave his own party like that.

while you were still just chilling at your place, sitting there like nothing had happened, waiting to see if this man who you’d left on read for a week would actually show up.

spoiler alert—he would.

the door wasn’t even locked—like you’d left it wide open for him, knowing he’d come running the second you told him to. seungcheol stepped inside your apartment, and it was so you in a way that made his chest tighten. that familiar scent? god, it was everywhere. in the air, clinging to the couch, the walls, probably gonna soak into his clothes and stay there for days, torturing him. like you’d marked your territory without even trying.

he moved on autopilot, his feet carrying him down the hallway to your bedroom like he didn’t even need directions. the door was cracked open, and he froze for a second when he saw you.

you were standing there, slipping a sheer robe over your shoulders—transparent. and it wasn’t doing a damn thing to hide you. the way the fabric barely skimmed over your hips, nipples peeking through, leading his eyes all the way down to the hem that just teased your thighs… it was insane.

you turned your head slightly, catching him in the doorway like some kind of lost puppy. your expression was unreadable, but he looked at you like you were magic or something—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. pathetic.

you stepped toward him, and before he could even process it, his hands moved to your waist like they belonged there. your arms looped lazily around his neck, and the warmth of your skin had his breath hitching. you glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall—10:01 p.m.—then met his gaze, your lips curling.

“happy birthday… birthday boy,” you said, your voice smooth as velvet.

he exhaled shakily, his eyes fluttering shut like the sound of your voice was too much. his brows knit together in that pitiful little frown you’d missed more than you cared to admit.

“why’d you leave me like that?” he muttered, voice cracking slightly. “did… did i do something? i’m sorry, i—”

you didn’t answer, didn’t even flinch, because honestly? you didn’t have a reason. there was no deep, dark explanation, no hidden agenda. you just did.

instead, you pushed him backward toward the bed, your hands firm on his chest. he stumbled slightly but kept talking, his voice climbing higher in pitch.

“please, just—just tell me. what did i do? i can fix it, i swear, just—”

you pushed him harder this time, and he landed on the bed with a bounce. he stared up at you, eyes glassy, lips trembling. “answer me,” he whined, his voice soft and desperate.

“shhh,” you hushed, pressing a finger to his lips.

he whimpered at the touch, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “why—why won’t you just—”

your hand came down on his cheek in a sharp slap. not too hard, but enough to make him moan, his mouth falling open in a perfect little “o.”

“quiet,” you said firmly, watching as his expression shifted. the sting seemed to zap the fight out of him, his mouth closing into a pout as his tears spilled over.

“aww,” you cooed, leaning down to brush your thumb under his eye. “don’t cry, birthday boy. let me give you a gift.”

his gaze flickered immesiately. a gift? he nodded eagerly.

“you gonna be good for me?” you asked, tilting your head.

“y-yeah,” he stammered, his voice so small it made you smile.

your hands moving to his belt. the way he watched you, like you were about to destroy his dignity, was almost comical.

you tugged his pants and underwear down in with a graceful sweep, leaving him bare and exposed. his cock was already rock hard, flushed red and leaking precum that smeared against his stomach.

“look at you,” you teased, wrapping a hand around the base. his breath hitched at the contact, his hips jerking slightly. “crying all over yourself, huh?”

he let out a choked whimper, his hands fisting the sheets beside him. “i—i can’t help it,” he whispered.

“poor baby,” you mocked, your thumb swiping over the tip to collect the sticky wetness. his whole body twitched at the motion, his eyes squeezing shut as more tears slipped down his cheeks.

you leaned down, letting your lips hover just above him. “you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? never let you have it before, but tonight… you’re special.”

he nodded frantically, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “please,” he begged, his voice breaking.

you smiled, finally taking him into your mouth. the heat and wetness made him sob outright, his hands flying to your hair but stopping short—like he was scared to touch you without permission.

“oh—fuck, fuck, fuck,” he babbled, his thighs trembling as you worked him over. your tongue dragged along the veins as your hand played with his balls, and he keened, his head falling back against the pillows.

“so good,” he choked out, tears streaming down his face. “m-missed you.”

you hummed around him, and the vibrations nearly sent him over the edge. his whole body tensed, his hips bucking slightly as he moaned your name.

“gonna be good for me?” you asked, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

“y-yes,” he stammered, his eyes glassy and desperate. “so good, i’ll be so good, please—”

“then take it,” you said, and he did.

your tongue swirled around the swollen tip of his cock, drawing a shuddering breath out of him that turned into a whimper when you pulled back slightly, letting a string of spit connect your lips to his flushed skin. his chest heaved, his abs clenching under the weight of your stare.

you fold your tongue up and slid along the underside of his length, like you had all the time in the world. his thighs trembled as you worked your way down, your nails scratching lightly along the sides of his hips, keeping him still. by the time you reached his base, his whole body was taut, his hands fisted so tightly into the sheets you thought he might rip them.

“you’re so sensitive,” you murmured, letting your breath ghost over his skin.

“i can’t—” he choked, cutting himself off with a high-pitched moan when your tongue flicked over the soft skin of his balls.

you smiled against him, pressing a kiss to one of the heavy globes before taking it into your mouth, sucking gently. his hips jerked off the bed, but your hand pressed firmly against his stomach, pinning him down.

“stay still,” you ordered.

“i’m trying—fuck, i’m trying,” he babbled, his voice cracking. his head lolled to the side, his lips parted in a silent cry as you continued to suck and lick at him, your tongue tracing slow, wet circles.

your free hand moved back to his cock, wrapping around the shaft and stroking it slowly, your thumb smearing the precum that was steadily leaking from the tip.

“look at me,” you said, your voice softer this time.

his eyes fluttered open, glassy and red-rimmed, his gaze locking onto yours. the sight of you, lips wrapped around him, your hand working him in tandem, had him letting out a desperate, broken sound that went straight to your core.

“you like this?” you asked, pulling back slightly, your hand still stroking him as you kissed along his inner thigh.

“yes,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “fuck, yes. feels so good.”

“yeah?” you teased, your lips quirking into a smirk as you nipped at his skin. “you’ve been waiting for this? waiting for me to touch you like this?”

he nodded frantically, “always,” he admitted. “always wanted you like this. please don’t stop.”

you purred, letting your tongue glide back up to his base before taking him into your mouth again, this time deeper, letting him feel the heat of your throat. “fuck—oh my god,” he sobbed, his hands twitching at his sides, like he wanted to touch you but didn’t dare.

“go on,” you encouraged, pulling off just enough to speak. “touch me. you’re being good, aren’t you?”

his hands immediately flew to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he let out another choked moan. “yes,” he breathed, “yes, so good, i’ll be so good for you.”

you hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head slowly, your hand working in time with your movements. his thighs shook beneath you, his breath hitching every time your tongue pressed against the sensitive vein running along the underside of his cock.

“you’re so fucking pretty like this,” you said, pulling back just enough to let your spit-coated hand continue stroking him. “all flushed and crying for me. does it feel that good?”

“so good!” he gasped, tears spilling over again as he bucked his hips involuntarily.

you hummed in approval, your tongue flicking over the tip before dipping lower again, taking one of his balls into your mouth once more. the way his entire body shook beneath you, his voice breaking into desperate little cries—it was everything.

“you’re mine,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin. “aren’t you?”

“yours!” he sobbed, his voice cracking. “all yours...”

you pulled back, your lips slick with spit and precum, watching as seungcheol’s chest heaved like he’d just run a marathon. his head was tilted back against the pillows, mouth slightly open, a trail of drool glistening at the corner of his lips. his cock twitched in your hand, still throbbing and leaking like it couldn’t survive a second without you.

“cheol,” you said, your voice sharp enough to cut through the haze.

he didn’t answer. his eyes were half-lidded, rolling back as another pathetic whimper slipped past his lips.

“yah,” you hissed, your free hand moving down to cup his balls, squeezing them just enough to snap him out of it.

he jerked, his hips twitching as a choked cry tore from his throat. his wide, glassy eyes met yours, full of confusion, like he wasn’t sure whether to apologize or beg for more.

“you listening now?” you asked, your tone playful but firm.

“y-yeah,” he stammered.

you smirked, leaning forward just enough to let your breath fan over his cock. “good. now, tell me—do you want me to make you cum like this?” your hand gave his length a slow, deliberate stroke, watching as his eyes fluttered shut again. “or do you want me to ride you?”

his eyes snapped open at the second option, but he still didn’t answer. his mouth opened and closed like he was trying to speak but couldn’t get the words out, and you swore he looked like a little kid trying to pick between candy flavors.

“cheol,” you said again, your grip on his balls tightening just enough to make him yelp. “i’m not giving you both, so choose. now.”

he whimpered, his lower lip trembling as he looked at you like you were some kind of goddess and he didn’t want to disappoint.

“i—i want…” he trailed off, his voice cracking as his cock twitched in your hand again.

“come on,” you urged. “use your words, birthday boy.”

his cheeks flushed deeper, and he swallowed hard before finally stammering out, “i want you to ride me.”

“do you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as your hand gave him one last teasing stroke.

“mhmm,” he breathed, his voice shaky but certain. “please. want to feel you. need to—need to be close to you.”

you smiled, your chest swelling. “good boy,” you murmured, releasing him completely and watching as he whimpered at the cut-off.

you climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips as his hands immediately flew to your thighs, gripping them like he was scared you’d disappear—again. the way his eyes roamed over your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin through the transparency of the robe, and the big slit that have been created as the robe opened up, made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

you reached between your legs, guiding his cock to your entrance, letting the tip tease your folds just enough to have him squirming beneath you.

“mm..fuck” he groaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “you’re so wet. is that—fuck, is that for me?”

“all for you,” you lied, he knew you were mocking him as you slowly sank down onto him.

the stretch was so good, never fails to make you arch your back, his cock filled you so perfectly had your breath hitching. but the sound he made was way down pathetic. it was half moan, half sob, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“oh my god,” he choked, his hands flying to your waist as his hips jerked involuntarily. “you’re so—so tight. best birthday gift ever.”

you rolled your hips slowly, letting him feel every inch of your gummy walls, and his grip tightened, you can feel his strong fingers marking your meat.

“you like being used like this?”

“yes!” he gasped, his voice high and broken. “love it. love you.”

you froze for half a second, the words catching you off guard, but you quickly recovered, your lips curling into a smirk. “that so?”

“yeah,” he breathed, his eyes squeezing shut as you started to move again. “fuck, i love you. love everything about you.”

every roll of your hips, pulled more sounds from him than you thought possible—moans, gasps, sobs, all spilling from his lips like a declaration.

your hips moved in a steady rhythm, dragging his cock in and out of you in a way that made your thighs burn, but the way seungcheol looked at you—like you were the fucking universe—made it impossible to stop. you clenched around him, squeezing tightly, and his mouth fell open, a strained whimper spilling out as his fingers dug into your hips as you rocked your pussy back and forth.

you pushed his shirt up higher, your eyes falling on his chest, where his nipples were flushed a deep red against his tan skin. his brows furrowed in confusion when he noticed your gaze.

“what?” he asked, his voice hoarse and breathless.

“you don’t even know, do you?” you teased, your nails trailing up his chest. “how red they get when you’re about to cum?”

“what?” he repeated, his tone higher this time, all embarassed.

“oh, baby,” you cooed, leaning down to brush your lips against his. “you’re so fucking cute.”

his face flushed even deeper, and you felt his cock twitch inside you as your hands wrapped around his neck. his eyes widened immediately, his breath hitching as he stared up at you, his lips parted in surprise.

“you like this?” you asked, your grip tightening just enough to make his pulse race beneath your fingers.

he let out a strangled moan, his hands flying up to your thighs like he didn’t know whether to stop you or hold on tighter. “y-yeah,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “fuck, yeah.”

“then be good for me, cum for me, cheol. now.”

his entire body tensed, his hips jerking up. you clenched around him again, your grip on his neck firm as you ground down harder as the first waves of your orgasm hit you.

you raised your hips just in time, letting his cock slip out of you as he spilled all over his stomach, ropes of cum painting his skin. his head fell back against the pillows, his chest heaving as he let out a broken sob, his hands trembling against your thighs.

you collapsed onto his chest, your hand moving between your legs to circle your clit frantically, your moans muffled against his ear as you chased the last remnants of your own orgasm.

“oh my fucking god...” you panted, your fingers working faster as your hips ground against his thigh.

he turned his head slightly, his eyes hazy as he watched you, his lips parted in awe. “you’re…so beautiful...”

you moaned loudly as your orgasm hit you, your body shaking against his as you buried your face in his neck, your hand slowing to a stop.

as the high ebbed away, your body melted into his, your limbs heavy and your breath evening out. you let your full weight settle on him, and he groaned softly, the sound less of discomfort and more of deep, satisfied contentment. his arms came around you instinctively, holding you close, his hands splayed wide against your back like he never wanted to let go.

you lay there, your cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. you tried to ignore how your own heart raced, guilt creeping in as you replayed the last week in your head.

sometimes, you really felt like shit about the way you treated him. seungcheol was too good for you, with that big heart of his—always giving, always forgiving. the problem wasn’t him. it was you.

you hoped he couldn’t feel the way your heart thudded against his chest, the weight of your remorse making it beat faster.

you lifted your head slightly, pressing soft kisses to his cheek, your fingers tangling in his hair as you gently scratched at his scalp. he sighed, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him tethered.

“cheol,” you murmured, your voice softer than you planned. “can i give you one more gift tonight?”

he didn’t answer right away. his eyes drifted to the ceiling, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“only one?” he asked after a moment.

you hummed, matching his teasing tone. “yeah. just one. better make it count, birthday boy.”

he chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. instead, his gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your back.

“i don’t think you can give me what i really want...” he said finally.

you tilted your head, your brows furrowing. “what do you mean?”

he hesitated before he turned his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“i want to be here with you... but knowing that you… that you actually like me back.”

he held your gaze, his eyes raw and vulnerable, waiting for a response that you didn’t know how to give.

“cheol, you know that right now i—” you started, your voice cracking.

but he shook his head, his lips curving into a small, sad smile. “it’s okay,” he said quickly, though the way his arms tightened around you betrayed his words. “i didn’t mean to ruin the moment. i just… i had to say it.”

you didn’t know what to say. guilt churned in your stomach, your heart pounding against his chest as his words echoed in your head.

he deserved so much more than you could give, and yet here he was, holding you like you were his whole world.

seungcheol let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against the curve of your spine. “but since that won’t happen…” he trailed off, his voice wistful.

your chest tightened, the words striking a nerve you weren’t ready to deal with. you stayed silent, pressing your cheek against his shoulder, hoping he couldn’t see the way your brows knitted together.

“can you…” he hesitated, his fingers twitching against your skin. “can you come to my birthday party tonight? i know it’s late, but it’s probably still going. i’d love to see you there.”

you froze. you knew what he was asking—he wanted you to show up for him, to step into his world, even if it made you uncomfortable.

“cheol,” you said slowly, lifting your head to look at him. his expression was expectant.

“please,” he added, whispering in an almost pityful way. “just for a little while. it’s my birthday.”

you bit your lip, glancing away. the idea of walking into a room full of people who probably hated you wasn’t exactly appealing, but the way he looked at you, made it hard to say no.

“fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“really?” he asked, his face lighting up instantly.

“yeah, really,” you said, rolling your eyes.

he sat up, pulling you with him.

you groaned, pushing against his chest. “ugh, fine. let me get ready, then.”

he followed you into the bathroom like a puppy, leaning against the doorway as you washed your face and fixed your hair. his gaze was soft, trailing over you like he was memorizing every detail.

“stop staring,” you said, your tone sharp but lacking any real bite.

“can’t help it,” he replied, his voice warm. “you’re gorgeous.”

you rolled your eyes again, but your cheeks flushed anyway, and you hated how easily he got to you.

“you should get ready too,” you said, pointing at him with a toothbrush in hand.

“i’m fine like this,” he said with a shrug, gesturing to his wrinkled shirt and jeans.

“you’re not showing up to your own party looking like you just got laid,” you shot back, smirking when his ears turned red.

“fine,” he grumbled, shuffling off.

by the time you were both dressed and ready, the nerves in your stomach were in full swing. seungcheol, however, looked ridiculously pleased with himself, his hand finding yours as he led you toward the door.

seungcheol practically vibrated with happiness as he led you up to the front door of his house. he tried so damn hard to play it cool, to keep his steps measured and his grin from stretching too wide. but his chest felt like it might burst at any moment, the thought of walking in with you by his side enough to make him wanna jump like some kind of elf in a fairytale.

this was it. you were here. about to meet his family, his friends. his whole world.

he took a deep breath and opened the door, immediately met with a chorus of voices.

“finally!” jeonghan shouted, throwing his arms up like he’d been waiting for years.

“where the hell have you been?” his brother added exasperatedly.

seungcheol pressed his lips together, holding back a smile as he glanced over his shoulder at you. “i, uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down for a second before looking back up, his voice soft but proud. “i needed to bring someone special before the ‘happy birthday.’”

the room fell silent as you stepped out from behind him, your hands clutching the straps of your bag like a lifeline. your small, tentative smile was enough to stop everyone in their tracks.

you shifted awkwardly under the weight of their stares, the sound of the music thumping softly in the background the only thing filling the silence.

and that’s when it hit them.

oh.

this was the reason seungcheol had been acting so out of character, the reason he’d been spiraling for months. you weren’t just some girl he was into. no, you were a fucking vision. gorgeous in a way that made the room seem brighter. mesmerizing without even trying.

now they understood. now it all made sense.

of course he was crazy over you. of course he’d been spiraling. who wouldn’t be?

but the realization also came with a quieter, more awkward truth: this was the girl they’d all cursed out in private. the girl they’d ranted about after every drunken night where seungcheol had cried into his beer or disappeared to avoid them.

they exchanged quick glances. yeah, they got it now, but it didn’t erase the fact that they’d judged you before even meeting you.

a nagging question none of them dared to voice but couldn’t shake.

were you really worth it?

jeonghan, the one who never held his tongue, raised a brow and smirked. “well, shit. now i get it.”

seungcheol’s face flushed a deep red, his hand instinctively finding the small of your back as if to shield you from the inevitable onslaught of teasing.

but instead of cracking a joke, jeonghan just smiled and nodded, his eyes softening. “welcome,” he said, his voice genuine.

the others slowly followed suit, their smiles tentative but warm as they tried to mask their lingering curiosity.

and as seungcheol led you further into the house, his hand never leaving your back, he felt like he’d just won the lottery. because for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t walking into this house feeling defeated or embarrassed.

this time, he was walking in with you.

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tellafairy · 2 months ago

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︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ everything you've been wondering about LOA + information about my journey ♡

so if you've been following my page for a while then you know i've changed the entirety of my life simply using loa. in this post, i want to go over things i've spoke about on here, loa terminology, how i manifest, what i've manifested, and everything else i want you to know. i ask that you read this before ever asking me a question, because it is likely i have answered it here and will not respond to your question if it's already been answered. i will seperate this into sections so it's easier to read. you are entitled to disagree with my pov on things but please keep your responses kind and respectful. with that being said ; i hope this helps ♡

— PART 1 : what have i manifested?

My exact desired girlfriend

University acceptance

Revision of bad grades

University financial aid / grants

My desired face and features; such as bigger eyes, a mole under my eye, smaller nose, different facial structure, facial symmetry, etc.

A change in my weight distribution

Weightloss without effort

Altering my speaking & singing voice

Free food & drinks

Being gifted desired items often

Multiple old friends reaching out

People who did me dirty apologizing & asking for forgiveness

Health and safety for my family, friends and pets

Financial stability for myself, a close friend and my mother

Becoming friends with multiple people i saw on netflix, youtube, or tiktok

Multiple job opportunities

Progression in my music career + music based job offers

Natural dental repair

Dual citizenship

Longer hair + different curl pattern

Getting invited out 24/7 and constantly having people who want to hang out with me

PR packages from my favourite brands

Viral videos / posts

p.s this is absolutely not everything, just the primary things i want to mention.

— PART 2: HOW?

the simple answer is affirmations. the long answer, is also affirmations.

no matter what method you use, you're always going to be affirming somehow. saturation tends to be my choice of affirming and i used it quite often when manifesting things that seemed "major" as it always helps me remind myself that nothing is truly out of reach or to big to manifest, even if it seems that way at first. the type of affirmations i use tended to switch based on what felt most natural to me in the moment. of course there were some affirmations that came up again and again for certain desires, but overall when affirming — especially during saturation sessions, i honestly find it fun to just go on and on about your desire in a way where you're speaking like you already have it. because you do, you're simply just reminding yourself and overpowering the thoughts that state otherwise. i believe your affirmations should always be what feels best to you. in short; choose whatever affirmations you want, because it doesn't matter really. as long as your affirmation aligns with your desire.

put it this way; if i want a tesla for my birthday which affirmation should i use? "i already have a tesla" or "i got a tesla for my birthday!" ?? the answer is either one! both align with the desire (a tesla) and you already know in the back of your head when you want it (for your birthday) so it really doesn't matter how the affirmation is formatted because either way you're telling yourself it's already yours. there isn't a cheat code of affirmations that are going to make your desires yours. whatever you believe works, works. sure — some affirmations may feel more powerful. but the truth is, you give them power. you choose what works and what doesn't. that is how my manifestations are mine. i simply decided that whatever affirmations i said in the moment, worked. and filling my mind with these affirmations only made me believe it even more.

here is a specific post i made about grade revision & uni acceptance for another in depth and real life example; grade revision

— PART 3: SPECIFIC TERMS

there are alot of terms within the loa community that i tend to see people get confused by or not fully understand. so i want to go a bit in depth about the terms and how they are used within loa.

3D VS 4D: opinions on this always vary, in some way but the general understanding tends to be the same. the 3D is your outer world while your 4D is your inner world aka your imagination. the 3D is a mirror of the 4D with persistence. the 4D is truly the only thing that matters as anything within the 3D can change or occur according to your persistence in tbe 4D. still confused? see the post i've linked, it explains a bit more in a way i think most will be able to understand. https://www.tumblr.com/cutiescute/694055506946424832/3d-4d-and-what-happens-when-you-manifest

Revision : revision really is just another form of loa but it's usually separated when spoken about, based on the grounds that it proposes the idea of manifesting a change in a specific event or situation that has already occurred in the 3d. for example, i used revision for my grades. despite already being showed my "bad grades" by my guidence counsiler, i altered the memory of my grades being bad and erased whatever ideas my counsiler tried to put into my head — souly by assuming and repeating that my grades were perfectly fine. another example i can give you is one i've seen a lot recently but also ive used myself — revision for pets. basically, in my own experience, when my dog got sick the vet had told me she would die very soon and there wasn't necessarily any beneficial treatment we could give her. all i did, was assume the opposite and repeat to myself affirmations that firmed the belief that my dog was perfectly fine. this reflected the idea that the vet had told me that my dog was sick — rather, that the vet told me my dog was perfectly healthy and would live a long healthy life. to conclude, this all happened last year and my dog is very much still alive and healthy to this day. revision isn't that complicated and it is just another form of loa.

saturation: saturation is another popular loa method. the name kind of speaks for itself, it's basically where you spend time saturating yourself in the knowing of your desires, reminding yourself they're yours. you can do this multiple ways — affirming, scripting, visualizing, etc. do whatever feels best for you.

persisting: persisting by definition means maintaining a unwavering belief in your desired outcome regardless of external circumstances or delays. to expand, despite the circumstances in your physical reality or the fact you may start to think your desire is "taking to long" or "not here yet". this tends to be the hardest part for some people as they find trouble in not letting circumstances define your entire reality and sometimes let the thoughts of their desire taking to long, not coming or not being able to manifest due to circumstances, overpower the actual desire. this is why some choose to manifest a better self concept and utilize mental discipline to get their thoughts in check and prevent wavering. this usually helps them fully come to terms and comprehend the fact that they are the creator of their reality and absolutely limitless. Persistence is key and your outer reality will always reflect whatever desires your inner reality persists in. the more you persist in the belief that your desired is already fulfilled the more it is solidifies! persisting is truly the only thing you need when manifesting, methods like the void state, saturation and stats do give people a piece of mind, help alter their thoughts and feelings revolving around manifestation — but throughout everhthing persisting is the number one thing that makes loa, loa.

SATS: sats is another manifestation method, please read my in depth explanation if you'd like to learn more! here https://www.tumblr.com/tellafairy/761668338100338688/get-anything-you-desire-overnight-what-is-sats

the void state: the void state is a state of pure consciousness where there is no thoughts, emotions, or physical sense — only awareness. the void state in another way for instant manifestation and most like to use it when manifesting multiple things at once or when shifting their self concept. but it is not necessary what so ever considering manifestation is also instant without the void state. the void state can be entered through affirmations, relaxation techniques such as meditation and of course — persistence.

— PART 4: COMMON QUESTIONS + CONCERNS

"can i manifest __"

yes, you are limitless. it does not matter what other people have manifested or what others think it "impossible" you create your reality. please be your own proof. don't worry about whether there are sucess stories that reflect your desires, you should be the sucess story.

"i want to manifest someone but they are a celebrity or already in a relationship, what if someone else is manifesting my desires person?"

celebrities are people to, nobody has free will in your reality and a status doesn't matter. you can meet people in the most random way possible, that includes celebrities. this also applies for 3p. (3p = 3rd person, anyone outside of you and your SP). 3p doesn't matter nor exist in your desired relationship, so why worry? you don't need to take action or try and do anything to remove 3p, all you need is the understanding that 3p does not place any limits on you and your sp's relationship. lastly — your reality is your reality and another persons is another persons. if you manifest someone, then they're yours and you won't see them with another person. and vice versa. it may be hard to understand, but reality is limitless and your reality is your reality, so don't worry about others manifestations.

"is it wrong to manifest and shift realities? can i do both? how or why is it possible to do both?"

please see this post: https://www.tumblr.com/tellafairy/768871751262306305/why-do-so-many-manifesters-shift-to-different

"is it wrong to manifest __"

morals are different for everyone. if you feel something is wrong to manifest, that is your pov and shouldn't define others realities. if you feel guilty about manifesting something, think of an alternative solution. for example, if you dislike someone but feel guilty about manifesting them out of your reality, an alternative solution may be manifesting a change in their personality. always remember to stick to your own views and what will make you truly happy.

"how will my manifestation happen?"

you can either decide or just let it happen. the how doesn't necessarily matter unless you want it to matter. you can manifest something happening in a specific way or just manifest that something and let it happen however it happens. i've gotten things in absolutely random ways and i've gotten things exactly how i've imagined getting them. it's your decision, just know in the end it is yours and the way it plays out doesn't change that.

"i'm worried i'm running out of time to get my desires"

your desires are already yours. time doesn't matter when manifestation is instant. age revision (revising the age you are or the year you were born) may also be a good tool for those of you who worry about time.

"i can't stop obsessing over my desires? is it bad?"

obsessing over your desires isn't necessarily bad. a while ago i read a quote that stated "you want it so bad, because future you already has it", and i think that's the best way to put things. it's normal to feel an overwhelming sensation when thinking about your desires, it's normal to be obsessed with the idea of them... because they're already yours — you just need to understand that. obsession doesnt have to be negative. you can easily make your obsession positive. for example; when i first decided i wanted a change in my appearance, my obsession with it was somewhat negative. i kept telling myself; "these subliminals aren't working!!" "ugh nothings changed". i was very obsessed with the idea of my appearance becoming how i desired but not actually changing - therefore, my outer world reflected these constant thoughts. but overtime, i learned how to change my obsession into something more positive. instead of being obsessed with the idea of my appearance changing, i became obsessed with the end results. my thoughts changed from the ones i stated above, to things like "i am so in love with my appearance" and "wow my eyes look even bigger today than they did yesterday... they just get bigger every day" even if i occasionally thought nothing actually changed, i quickly remembered to switch back to the positives and remind myself it has changed no matter what. i didn't completely ignore my thoughts, or erase the obsession with my desires. instead, i simply switched from being obsessed with the idea - to being obsessed with the results.

"do subliminals work? how should i listen to them"

subliminals, like any other manifestation method, work if you believe they work. you can listen to them over night, while working or doing homework, while working out... literally however you want!

"how do i shift realities?" "what is reality shifting?"

read this

"why aren't there any photo proofs of physical manifestations lile appearance?"

there are, here

"did i manifest being abused? did i manifest my trauma?" no. read this.

still having doubts or confused? read this: here

you don't need to fake sucess in the 3d in order to live in the end. read this here

— PART 5: END MESSAGE

Despite how long this is, i want you to know manifesting really isn't complicated. some of you may read this and leave with the exact same information you came in with — and if that's the case, i am begging you to GET OFF TUMBLR in the nicest way possible. you know everything and there's nothing else you need. just apply, and it will occur. stop overcomplicating things for yourself, it seems simple because it is simple. i want you to read this and know that no matter what your circumstances are, you have the power to change anything and everything and create anything and everything you want. i have said this countless times on here but my past before loa was horrible and i often used shifting as an escape from the reality i so desperately held onto. but with only loa, without any effort what so ever outside of my mind, i changed the entire path of my life and gained the beautiful simple life i didn't want to shift for. please never give up on yourself or loa. you are the creator, take notice of your power, understand it and utilize it.

p.s again : i apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes ♡

#reality shifting #manifestation #manifesation #loablr #manifesting sp #law of assumption #manifesting #loassumption #loa tumblr

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blindmagdalena · 6 months ago

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Center Stage in a Gilded Cage

18+ 3k. homelander x f!reader. pre-s1. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, forced relationship, slow burn, somnophilia, drugging, eventual smut. gif | AO3 | fanfic directory

Homelander was born with only one terrible poverty: loneliness. He's been starved of love his entire life, made sick by his hunger for it, but he believes you might have the cure. If you want to survive, you'll find a way to give it to him.

Homelander has never been able to understand people who bird watch. Of all the things a mundane person could do with their abysmally mediocre life, why devote what little free time they have to observing a creature even more dull than they themselves are?

Perhaps it's the gift of flight. By far, it is the ability of his that garners the most attention. Or maybe it's the power trip one experiences when observing something simpler and weaker than yourself for sport. The novelty of becoming endeared by their strange little behaviors and quirks. It's this line of thinking that eventually walks Homelander down the path of people watching. During his downtime, in the quiet moments he spends perched atop skyscrapers and apartment complexes, he finds himself watching the people miles below him scurry about like insects through a colony.

Over time, he begins to recognize regulars. People moving back and forth, day in and day out, no different than ants moving grains back and forth. He has to laugh. It's no wonder god abandoned man. Man is fucking boring.

Even the god they made for themselves thinks so.

To ease the monotony, he concocts little stories for the ones he recognizes. He imagines the kinds of lives they live outside of their commutes and the routines he observes. He names one of them Peter, and every day he invents a new reason Peter is yet again running late for his train. Because he's always late, Peter never stops for the woman selling street meat on the corner across from the station.

Homelander imagines that the meat she peddles is people, and that she's got her eye on that speedy little rabbit, Peter.

And then one day, he notices you.

It isn’t that you’re especially beautiful or noteworthy. Just like all the other busy little bees, you go about your same routine each and every day of the week. Sometimes you're in a rush, other times you enjoy your stroll. Regardless, you always find time to stop and give money to the same homeless man occupying one of the few alleyways protected by an awning. Sometimes you linger to chat, other times you can only stop long enough to drop something into his hands.

It isn't always money. Oftentimes you have food for him packed neatly into a little take-out box. Despite the packaging, it looks homemade. You always have a warm smile for him, even when you’re obviously frazzled.

To the rest of the world, this man may as well be fucking invisible, but here you are handing him a box of home cooked food like he's someone who matters. Homelander is the world's greatest hero, and yet some bum on the street is being fed with more love and attention to detail than he ever has.

It's a goddamn joke. More and more, it becomes apparent to him that you’re pathetically lonely. After a few days of observing you amongst the others, he starts trailing you more actively, forgetting all about Peter and his eventual butcher.

He wants to know more about you.

You live alone, working and cooking for only yourself and your stray pet. Sometimes you cook for your coworkers or the odd friend who stops by before leaving you alone all over again. He watches from a distance while you toil away, cooking more food than you’ll eat in a week for people you see for a fraction of each of your weekdays. It couldn’t be more obvious that you’re desperate for someone to take care of.

In a way, he can relate.

Maeve has been more distant than ever, choosing to engage him only when there’s a camera present. When it’s only the two of them, she just drinks until he barely recognizes her. Madelyn has begun her “fertility journey,” words that set his teeth on edge, and has barely had a real moment to spare him as of late. The rest of his team doesn’t help abate his loneliness either; Marathon is a washed up hack who can barely sprint these days, Lamplighter is only ever interested in clubbing, the Deep couldn’t hold a conversation in a bucket, and Noir is a mute.

And so he soothes his solitude with thoughts of you. When he isn’t with you, he daydreams about it, imagining what life would look like if your worlds were to intersect. The more he learns about you, the more vivid his fantasies become, and the more intensely he aches when he still finds himself alone in his bed at the end of each night.

It spurs him to visit you more and more.

One particularly warm summer night, you leave your window wide open. He takes it for the invitation it is, drifting towards it under the cover of dark. Your screen is loose and pops out noiselessly. Not exactly safe, even if you do live on the fifth storey.

You just never know what might come lurking out of the shadows.

Slipping into your living room, he’s met with the sound of white noise playing from your bedroom. Is it the sound of the streets below that bother you? You’d never hear it from his penthouse a hundred feet in the air. You could leave the windows open all you like and hear only the roar of the sky, not unlike the ocean waves your phone is poorly mimicking.

He could take you to the actual ocean. A beach house far away from the buzzing neon lights and incessant honking and revving of traffic. Walking through your apartment, he makes his way to your tiny kitchen. The one in his penthouse puts yours to absolute shame, and yet the only thing in it that’s ever been used is the fridge. He’s certain he’s never opened the double oven or so much as turned on the gas range. Meanwhile, your kitchen is riddled with use, each cupboard stuffed with mismatched cookware and the like. It smells of grease and spices and love.

The sad irony of it is almost too much to stomach. You don’t belong in this cramped little sardine can. You should be in a proper kitchen.

You should be cooking for him. The thought comes to him like a flash of genius. Of course. That’s the answer that will solve both of your little dilemmas. If he is a bird watcher then you’re a songbird snared in a net. It would be inhumane of him to leave you to die before you’re ever appreciated–ever seen–by anyone who matters.

You would worship him for rescuing you. His wealth and power would see each and every one of your material needs met with ease. You would never work for anything again. All you would ever have to concern yourself with was being loved and loving him.

He walks to your room with a hand pressed absently over his heart, cradling the anxious little bundle of nerves that have gathered there. He can tell by your breathing that you’re deep asleep, and yet he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he approaches.

His first time being so near to you after weeks of simply observing.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he steps towards you. The sound of him is masked by the ambient noise spilling from your phone, not to mention the fan you have pointed directly at your bed in a desperate attempt to save yourself from the summer heat.

You clearly weren’t built for this paltry life. Mary was no one before God chose her for greatness. Is that not what he’s about to do for you? It’s the will of a god that elevates you.

He kneels by your bedside, bringing himself face to face with you. Your breathing is even, each huff smelling faintly of mint. Your lips look soft, slightly parted in sleep. Everything about you is gentler, more relaxed than you ever are in the day to day grind of your life.

You could look like this all the time without it. He has the power to change your entire life with nothing more than a couple of numbers shifting from one space to another. Money has always been inconsequential to him, so abundant that it hardly means anything anymore. You, however, are ruled by it.

For the first time in his life, he recognizes the power in his wealth.

He brushes the tips of his gloved fingers along your cheek, down your jaw. He’s never used his hands so tenderly as when he traces your sleeping eyelids with his fingertips, imagining what dreams chase behind them and make them flutter.

You don’t stir.

Emboldened, he follows the curve of your bottom lip with his thumb, imagining how soft you would feel against the bare pad of his finger. Leaning in closer, he indulges in the warmth of your breath tickling his lips. You’re a sound sleeper, the thud of your resting heart beating steadily in his ear.

Closing his eyes, he bridges the distance between your lips, pressing his own lightly to yours. For a second, he thinks he’s woken you, that you’ve caught sight of him and your heart is drumming loudly in his ears. He draws sharply back, but sees that you’re still deep asleep, your features peaceful.

It’s his heart that’s racing, a thundering sound that blocks out every other noise in the room. He’s breathing shallowly, excited in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. There’s a flush crawling up his throat, and it’s at that moment he breaks out into a wide, wondrous smile.

There’s no question of it now.

He has to have you.

The plan to acquire you ends up requiring very little setup. If Madelyn cares why Homelander’s suddenly spending so much, she’s yet to make a comment.

Bitterly, he thinks it likely that she’s glad to see him distracted.

He starts preparation by appropriately stocking his kitchen; you’ll appreciate the supply of ingredients, he knows. The quality of what he obtains for you is leagues above what you can afford, as is the cookware. He buys you new clothes, jewelry, imagining every step of the way how you’ll look in each piece. How you’ll look as he takes them off. He’s seeking to upgrade your life in every conceivable way, like bringing a cat home from the pound and teaching it the meaning of luxury.

You’ll want for nothing. You’ll be so grateful to him. And you, the sweet and perfect little thing that you are, make yourself painfully easy to ensnare. You come home under the cover of dark like clockwork, perfectly oblivious to his approach. You’ve just managed to fish your keys out of your bag when his hand closes a kerchief over your mouth and nose, stifling your cry. His other arm slips around your waist, holding you steady. The cloth smells overly sweet, ether-like, and though that scent has no effect on him, you respond to it almost immediately. “Shhhhshhshh,” he soothes, letting the anesthesia do its job. Fuck, you feel good in his arms, back held tight to his chest, your delicate hands prying at his wrist as you kick, claw and scream–albeit muffled–into the cloth. He holds you with ease, keeping you close to his body, angling you in such a way that you won’t hurt yourself.

Despite your tenacity, you fight a losing battle. Your efforts grow weaker and weaker as you lose your grip on consciousness. He hushes you all the while, encouraging you. “That’s it, let it go. I’ve got you, I’ve got you...” Finally your head falls back against his shoulder, your face lolling into the crook of his neck, the rest of your body falling slack in his arms. He pulls the cloth away from your mouth, tucking it into your bag for now. He turns his head to yours, lips barely ghosting along your forehead. He takes in a deep breath of you, his eyes falling shut. Beneath the sickly sweet smell of the chemical mixture he knocked you out with, he can smell the remnants of your perfume. It’s not his favorite fragrance, but the underlying warm scent of you is intoxicating. He’ll collect whatever belongings you decide you want with you when he returns, if anything, but he doubts you’ll miss much. Your stuff will seem like a heap of rags and garbage by comparison. He’s looking forward to how the perfumes and lotions he’s bought you will smell on your skin, and how you’ll look in the clothing he’s picked for you. He adjusts you into a bridal carry in his arms and gently kicks off from the ground, holding you firm to his chest. The city is beautiful at night, a landscape of stars mirroring that of the sky above it. He’s always loved it here, and yet he’s shared it with a painful few.

Madelyn never lets him take her to the skies. Maeve had been wowed initially, but she had quickly grown disillusioned with it. With him.

You’ll be different. The trip back to his penthouse feels agonizingly slow, but he maintains a lesser pace to keep the wind from rashing your skin, savoring the featherlight weight of you in his arms at last. He lands deftly on his balcony, stepping through his open reinforced glass doors. After laying you down in his bed, he takes a moment to slip off your shoes, setting them aside. He eases your purse off of your shoulder, and places it on the nightstand. After sprawling a thin blanket over you, he takes a step back and puts his hands on his hips to admire the perfectly domestic scene he’s set.

Slowly, he breaks out into a smile. His bed swallows you up, makes you look small and lonely. He’s the missing piece, of course. He’s already looking forward to seeing himself complete the picture in the mirror above you. He imagines coming home to you like this, curled up in his–no, your shared bed, blanket pulled up over your shoulders to block the chill left by his absence.

Oh, how you’ll miss him when he’s gone.

You’ll have nothing and no one to concern yourself with except for him. No burdens, no dread, no stress. You’ll live in peace and security the likes of which you can scarcely imagine, spoiled rotten by the bounty of all that he is.

Neither of you will ever be lonely again.

Tilting his head slightly, he listens to the sound of you. Your breathing is shallow, the beat of your heart steady. Normal people don’t realize it, don’t have the capacity for it, but a heartbeat is as distinct as a fingerprint. Over the years, he’s learned to read them as such. He’s memorized yours. There isn’t much for him to do in the time that you’re asleep. He knows precisely how long you’ll be out; the anesthesia blend he gave you was straight out of Vought’s lab, and the dose he gave you leaves him with at least an hour before the two of you meet properly. The anticipation is enough to make him giddy. For all that Homelander knows about you, there is plenty he does not. The externals of your life have only provided him so much, but that will come in time. He didn’t bother with perusing your social media accounts, not being particularly proficient in them himself.

Besides, he wants getting to know you to be an organic experience.

He remembers to take your phone out of your bag and dispose of that rag he used to dose you while he’s at it. He unlocks your phone the way he’s seen you do a dozen times before, and spends some time ensuring that no one will be expecting you anywhere any time soon. All it takes is one quick email and you no longer have a job. A few social media posts later, you’ve informed anyone who might think of you that you’ll be enjoying an impromptu sabbatical in Europe.

The power of technology. After that, he pops your phone into the safe behind one of the dozens of portraits on his wall.

When he hears you starting to stir, renewed butterflies start fluttering about in his stomach. You have no idea that your entire life–no, your entire perception of reality–is about to change. No more dodgy commutes, no more living paycheck-to-paycheck. You’ll be free to admire the world from the lap of luxury–his lap, to be specific. You make a quiet moan, the chemical fog wearing off gradually. He moves swiftly to your bedside, primed with a welcoming smile, hands on his hips. “Riiiise and shine, sleepyhead,” he coaxes, leaning forward at the waist. Still disoriented from the drugs in your system, you stare at him as if you’re dreaming. He doesn’t blame you. In almost every other reality, there’s no explanation for the fact you’re seeing America’s favorite hero, the Homelander, standing above you. He knows the side effects of the drug have left a strange buzzing in your ears, and that your tongue likely feels heavy and cottony. He’s already got water for you on the bedside table. “Home…lander?” You manage to get out. His smile broadens. That’s the first time he’s heard you say his name. You look cute like this, bleary-eyed and needy. He’s grown accustomed to seeing you as a put together provider, self-sufficient and tending to the needs of those around you, but rarely your own. Seeing you unraveled feels like a secret intimacy for him alone. “The one and only,” he preens. Now that you’ve seen him posed valiantly by your side, he takes a seat on the bed next to you, reaching out to brush his gloved knuckles along your forehead. He attributes the slight flinch to your drug addled confusion. Poor thing. If he’d had an alternative to using a sedative, he would have preferred that.

Not that it matters now. You’re finally here.

( chapter two )

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #x reader #yandere x reader #what's up i'm finally publishing/finishing this story after teasing it for 2 years!#the first 4 chapters are all written so dw i will have a regular update schedule #prob a chapter every 2 weeks!#my wrtitng

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copperbadge · 7 months ago

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This is not to sniff at packaged food in any way, because cheap, uniform, nutritious, premade food is important and necessary. And despite what your local tiktok orthorexic may tell you, packaged food is still capable of providing solid nutrition.

That said, I've been making my own bread for about twenty years, and for the last ten or so it has often been easier to make bread than buy it, solely because I don't need to leave the house to do so, and I live alone so a decent loaf can last me a good ten days. Being able to make ones own bread in this modern era is a product of privilege -- the resources to buy the ingredients (especially high quality flour, not cheap), the time and space to bake, the stamina to knead or equipment to make kneading easier -- my breads improved a lot when I got a good stand mixer, and those aren't cheap. But also, to make a decent edible boule you can get by with flour, water, yeast, salt, and time. Throw in a little oil and you can make pizza crust; add in kneading and a bit of sugar and you have bagels.

It did somewhat change how I eat, because homemade bread is often a little difficult to make a sandwich with, but I was never a huge fan of sandos anyway. These days I often don't even make loaves -- I make rolls or bagels, or flatbreads.

But all of this is to say that because I'm now accustomed to eating my own bread, which is necessarily small-batch and produced without stabilizers that make commercial bread so soft and uniform, I am starting to struggle when I do buy bread because the flavor and texture often feel off. It's not that it's objectively bad food, but it's very different from what I'm used to, which is unpleasant. I've been aware of the issue for a while but previously even if the bread wasn't as good to me as my own, it was edible and convenient, so it was fine. Making your own hot dog buns is a pain in the ass.

I just bought a loaf of Italian bread, reasonably fresh, a brand I used to eat regularly, because I wasn't feeling up to baking anything. I've been making toast with it mostly. But yesterday morning -- admittedly while dealing with some nausea -- I bit into a sandwich I'd made with it (cashew butter and strawberry jam) and thought, "this feels like eating upholstery fabric."

I haven't been able to eat any more of it since. The soft, dense texture, the specific preservative flavor, the mouthfeel. I tried to eat some toast just now and had to spit it out because it felt like buttered brocade and I started to gag. I'm kind of mad about it, honestly.

The bread won't go to waste -- if I can't eat the rest of the bag I'll dry it out and crush it for breadcrumbs for fried chicken or a panade -- but it's both sad and funny that I have functionally baked myself into a corner where packaged bread is no longer even an option.

It feels like I'm becoming one of the middle-aged eccentrics I used to know when I was a kid -- older people or couples in my church, sometimes parents of my school friends, who were just kind of oddballs, hippie leftovers, what I still think of as Berkeley Weirdos (affectionate) even though Berkeley has long since gentrified. The lady who didn't have a functional oven or stove because she ate raw vegan or the family that converted their old station wagon to biofuel but kept the rear-facing back seats with no seatbelts and would give us death-defying rides to the community pool in them. I'm already growing my own basil because I eat an unlikely amount of pesto for one person. My signature potluck dishes are kiwi dip or egg-free meringues.

I don't mind, exactly. I loved the Berkeley Weirdos and the community they built for us kids. But it's definitely not a place I imagined ending up.

#food #weirdos #i should break out my copy of the Happy Mutant Handbook and see how well it's aged

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 months ago

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The housing emergency and the second Trump term

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveill ance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/11/nimby-yimby-fimby/#home-team-advantage

Postmortems and blame for the 2024 elections are thick on the ground, but amidst all those theories and pointed fingers, one explanation looms large and credible: the American housing emergency. If the system can't put a roof over your head, that system needs to go.

American housing has been in crisis for decades, of course, but it keeps getting worse…and worse…and worse. Americans pay more for worse housing than at any time in their history. Homelessness is at a peak that is soul-crushing to witness and maddening to experience. We turned housing – a human necessity second only to air, food and water – into an asset governed almost entirely by market forces, and so created a crisis that has consumed the nation.

The Trump administration has no plan to deal with housing. Or rather, they do have plans, but strictly of the "bad ideas only" variety. Trump wants to deport 11m undocumented immigrants, and their families, including citizens and Green Card holders (otherwise, that would be "family separation" and that's cruel). Even if you are the kind of monster who can set aside the ghoulishness of solving your housing problems by throwing someone in a concentration camp at gunpoint and then deporting them to a country where they legitimately fear for their lives, this still doesn't solve the housing emergency, and will leave America several million homes short.

Their other solution? Deregulation and tax cuts. We've seen this movie before, and it's an R-rated horror flick. Financial deregulation created the speculative mortgage markets that led to the 2008 housing crisis, which created a seemingly permanent incapacity to build new homes in America, as skilled tradespeople retired or changed careers and housebuilding firms left the market. Handing giant tax cuts to the monopolists who gobbled up the remains of these bankrupt small companies minted a dozen new housing billionaires who preside over companies that make more money than ever by building fewer homes:

https://www.fastcompany.com/91198443/housing-market-wall-streets-big-housing-market-bet-has-created-12-new-billionaires

This isn't working. Homelessness is ballooning. The only answer Trump and his regime have for our homeless neighbors is to just make it a crime to be homeless, sweeping up homeless encampments and busting homeless people for "loitering" (that is, existing in space). There is no universe in which this reduces homelessness. People who lose their homes aren't going to dig holes, crawl inside, and pull the dirt down on top of themselves. If anything, sweeps and arrests will make homelessness worse, by destroying the possessions, medication and stability that homeless people need if they are to become housed.

Today, The American Prospect published an excellent package on the housing emergency, looking at its causes and the road-tested solutions that can work even when the federal government is doing everything it can to make the problem worse:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-12-11-tackling-the-housing-crisis/

The Harris campaign ran on Biden's economic record, insisting that he had tamed inflation. It's true that the Biden admin took action against monopolists and greedflation, including criminal price-fixing companies like Realpage, which helps landlords coordinate illegal conspiracies to rig rents. Realpage sets the rents for the majority of homes in major metros, like Phoenix:

https://www.azag.gov/press-release/attorney-general-mayes-sues-realpage-and-residential-landlords-illegal-price-fixing

Of course, reducing inflation isn't the same as bringing prices down – it just means prices are going up more slowly. And sure, inflation is way down in many categories, but not in housing. In housing, inflation is accelerating:

https://www.latimes.com/opinion/story/2024-03-08/inflation-housing-shortage-economy-cpi-fed-interest-rate

The housing emergency makes everything else worse. Blue states are in danger of losing Congressional seats because people are leaving big cities: not because they want to, but because they literally can't afford to keep a roof over their heads. LGBTQ people fleeing fascist red state legislatures and their policies on trans and gay rights can't afford to move to the states where they will be allowed to simply live:

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/07/11/business/economy/lgbtq-moving-cost.html

So what are the roots of this problem, and what can we do about it? The housing emergency doesn't have a unitary cause, but among the most important factors is fuckery that led to the Great Financial Crisis and the fuckery that followed on from it, as Ryan Cooper writes:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-12-11-housing-industry-never-recovered-great-recession/

The Glass-Steagall Act was a 1933 banking regulation created to prevent Great Depression-style market crashes. It was killed in 1999 by Bill Clinton, who declared, "the Glass–Steagall law is no longer appropriate." Nine years later, the global economy melted down in a Great Depression-style market crash fueled by reckless speculation of the sort that Glass-Steagall had prohibited.

The crash of 2008 took down all kinds of industries, but none were so hard-hit as home-building (after all, mortgages were the raw material of the financial bubble that popped in 2008). After 2008, construction of new housing fell by 90% for the next two years. This protracted nuclear winter in the housing market killed many associated industries. Skilled tradespeople retrained, or "left the job market" (a euphemism for becoming disabled, homeless, or destroyed). Waves of bankruptcies swept through the construction industry. The construction workforce didn't recover to pre-crisis levels for 16 years (and of course, by then, there was a huge backlog of unbuilt homes, and a larger population seeking housing).

Meanwhile, the collapse of every part of the housing supply chain – from raw materials to producers – set the stage for monopoly rollups, with the biggest firms gobbling up all these distressed smaller firms. Thanks to this massive consolidation, homebuilders were able to build fewer houses and extract higher profits by gouging on price. They doubled down on this monopoly price-gouging during the pandemic supply shocks, raising prices well above the pandemic shortage costs.

The housing market is monopolized in ways that will be familiar to anyone angry about consolidation in other markets – from eyeglasses to pharma to tech. One builder, HR Horton, is the largest player in 3 of the country's largest markets, and it has tripled its profits since 2005 while building half as many houses. Modern homebuilders don't build: they use their scale to get land at knock-down rates, slow-walk the planning process, and then farm out the work to actual construction firms at rates that barely keep the lights on:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/its-the-land-stupid-how-the-homebuilder

Monopolists can increase profits by constraining supply. 60% of US markets are "highly concentrated" and the companies that dominate these markets are starving homebuilding in them to the tune of $106b/year:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3303984

There are some obvious fixes to this, but they are either unlikely under Trump (antitrust action to break up builders based on their share in each market) or impossible to imagine (closing tax loopholes that benefit large building firms). Likewise, we could create a "homes guarantee" that would act as an "automatic stabilizer." That would mean that any time the economy slips into recession, this would trigger automatic funding to pay firms to build public housing, thus stimulating the economy and alleviating the housing supply crisis:

https://www.peoplespolicyproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/SocialHousing.pdf

The Homes Guarantee is further explained in a separate article in the package by Sulma Arias from People's Action, who describes how grassroots activists fighting redlining planted the seeds of a legal guarantee of a home:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-12-11-why-we-need-homes-guarantee/

Arias describes the path to a right to a home as running through the mass provision of public housing – and what makes that so exciting is that public housing can be funded, administered and built by local or state governments, meaning this is a thing that can happen even in the face of a hostile or indifferent federal regime.

In Paul E Williams's story on FIMBY (finance in my back yard), the executive director of Center for Public Enterprise offers an inspirational story of how local governments can provide thousands of homes:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-12-11-fimby-finance-in-my-backyard/

Williams recounts the events of 2021 in Montgomery County, Maryland, where a county agency stepped in to loan money to a property developer who had land, zoning approval and work crews to build a major new housing block, but couldn't find finance. Montgomery County's Housing Opportunities Commission made a short-term loan at market rates to the developer.

By 2023, the building was up and the loan had been repaid. All 268 units are occupied and a third are rented at rates tailored to low-income tenants. The HOC is the permanent owner of those homes. It worked so well that Montgomery's HOC is on track to build 3,000 more public homes this way:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/08/25/business/affordable-housing-montgomery-county.html

Other – in red states! – have followed suit, with lookalike funds and projects in Atlanta and Chattanooga, with "dozens" more plans underway at state and local levels. The Massachusetts Momentum Fund is set to fund 40,000 homes.

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/08/25/business/affordable-housing-montgomery-county.html

The Center for Public Enterprise has a whole report on these "Government Sponsored Enterprises" and the role they can play in creating a supply of homes priced at a rate that working people can afford:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-12-11-fimby-finance-in-my-backyard/

Of course, for a GSE to loan money to build a home, that home has to be possible. YIMBYs are right to point to restrictive zoning as a major impediment to building new homes, and Robert Cruickshank from California YIMBY has a piece breaking down the strategy for fixing zoning:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-12-11-make-it-legal-to-build/

Cruickshank lays out NIMBY success stories in cities like Austin and Minneapolis adopting YIMBY-style zoning rules and seeing significant improvements in rental prices. These success stories are representative of a broader recognition – at least among Democratic politicians – that restrictive zoning is a major contributor to the housing emergency.

Repeating these successes in the rest of the country will take a long time, and in the meantime, American tenants are sitting ducks for predatory landlords, With criminal enterprises like Realpage enabling collusive price-fixing for housing and monopoly developers deliberately restricting supplies to keep prices up (a recent Blackrock investor communique gloated over the undersupply of housing as a source of profits for its massive portfolio of rental properties), tenants pay more and more of their paychecks for worse and worse accommodations. They can't wait for the housing emergency to be solved through zoning changes and public housing. They need relief now.

That's where tenants' unions come in, as Ruthy Gourevitch and Tara Raghuveer of the Tenant Union Federation writes in their piece on the tenants across the country who are coordinating rent strikes to protest obscene rent-hikes and dangerous living conditions:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-12-11-look-for-the-tenant-union/

They describe a country where tenants work multiple jobs, send the majority of their take-home pay to their landlords – a quarter of tenants pay 70% of their wages in rent – and live in vermin-filled homes without heat or ventilation:

https://www.phenomenalworld.org/analysis/terms-of-investment/

Public money from Freddie Mae and Fannie Mac flood into the speculative market for multifamily homes, a largely unregulated, subsidized speculative bonanza that lets the wealthy make bets and the poor pay their losses.

In response, tenants unions are popping up all across the country, especially in red state cities like Bozeman, MT and Louisville, KY. They organize for "just cause" evictions that ban landlords from taking their homes away. They seek fair housing voucher distribution practices. They seek to close eviction loopholes like the LA wheeze that lets landlords kick you out following "renovations."

The National Tenant Policy Agenda demands "national rent caps, anti-eviction protections, habitability standards, and antitrust action," measures that would immediately and profoundly improve the lives of millions of American workers:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1JF1-fTalW1tOBO0FhYDcVvEd1kQ2HIzkYFNRo6zmSsg/edit

They caution that it's not enough to merely increase housing supply. Without a strong countervailing force from organized tenants, new housing can be just another source of extraction and speculation for the rich. They say that the Federal Housing Finance Agency – regulator for Fannie and Freddie – could play an active role in ensuring that new housing addresses the needs of people, not corporations.

In the meantime, a tenants' union in KC successfully used a rent strike – where every tenant in a building refuses to pay rent – to get millions in overdue repairs. More strikes are planned across the country.

The American system is in crisis. A country that cannot house its people is a failure. As Rachael Dziaba writes in the final piece for the package, the situation is so bad that water has started to flow uphill: the cities with the most inward migration have the least job growth:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-10-18-housing-blues/

It's not just housing, of course. Americans pay more for health care than anyone else in the rich world and get worse outcomes than anyone else in the rich world. Their monopoly grocers have spiked their food prices. The incoming administration has declared war on public education and seeks to relegate poor children to unsupervised schools where "education" can consist of filling in forms on a Chromebook and learning that the Earth is only 5,000 years old.

A system that can't shelter, feed, educate or care for its people is a failure. People in failed states will vote for anyone who promises to tear the system down. The decision to turn life's necessities over to unregulated, uncaring markets has produced a populace who are so desperate for change, they'll even vote for their own destruction.

#pluralistic #hysteresis #bubbles #bubblenomics #finance #nimby #yimby #restrictive zoning #localism #maslows hierarchy of needs #realpage #the rents too damned high #housing #weaponized shelter #rent strikes #tenants unions #the american prospect

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hornyfor-redacted-onmain · 5 months ago

Text

Secret Secret Chapter 6

OT8 Straykids x reader, ABO AU

Masterlist | Next Part

You picked up the box of painkillers from the convenience store shelf with a sigh, looking it over for a bit, before deciding it was suitable for what you needed it for.

The bells on the door rang as it opened, another customer making their way into the nearly empty store. You supposed it was rare to get customers this late on a Monday night, but you wanted to make sure you restocked the first aid kit back at your apartment before you forgot, having gone through the entire stash back when you were dealing with your preheat.

At least, restocking was all you had been planning on using them for. But with the way your blood was starting to pound heavily in your head and the ache in your bones, you had a feeling that you might need to think ahead and get more than just one box.

You sighed again.

Grabbing another box, you took a second to consider the slight grumbling in your stomach, and made your way to the next aisle over. Some snacks couldn’t hurt. You just went through your heat; you figured you had an excuse.

“The chocolate flavored ones are the best,” A voice said from beside you.

You looked up from where you had been considering the selection of candies and blinked in surprise. “Jisung?”

The beta smiled at you. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I-“ Jisung’s eyes went wide. He looked down at the ramen package in his hands, and you raised an eyebrow. “It’s not what it looks like! I know we have performances tomorrow, but I just … really had a craving for ramen.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell on you.”

“It’s only this once, I promise!”

“Seriously, Jisung. I couldn’t care less about your diet.”

He gave you a sheepish smile. “Really?”

“Really.”

Jisung took your words at face value, and you found yourself matching his now genuine smile with your own. You reached out to grab your sweets, intent on passing by and going on your way, but the idol reached out to stop you as you made to leave.

“I can’t eat this back at the dorms without someone complaining of temptations,” He began, eyes focused on the package in his hands.

“Makes sense,” You quipped.

He shifted his feet nervously. “If you aren’t in a rush, I was wondering if you wanted to join me?”

“To eat?”

“Yeah.”

You reached out to pat his shoulder, and Jisung finally lifted his head to actually look you in the eyes. For a split second, you found yourself breathless with no explanation, the kind of feeling that you got when listening to your favorite song years after forgetting it or watching a plot twist for the first time. It made your entire body hum.

And then it was gone, and only the hums of the refrigerators at the back of the store remained. You swallowed hard.

“Sure.”

-0-0-

You watched as Jisung slurped up the noodles from his chopsticks, the red broth staining the corners of his mouth even as he licked up the remaining moisture. With a small smile, you reached over with a napkin to wipe it away, and he turned to you with wide eyes and full cheeks.

You snickered. “I can see why fans compare you to a squirrel.”

Jisung whined, but with his mouth full, he couldn’t say anything to defend himself. He chewed thoughtfully, staring out through the convenience store window. The soft rain and disappearing sunset gave the streets a hazy glow, and combined with the quiet music playing through the speakers, it gave you a sense of peace.

You looked over at Jisung again, only to find he was staring at you back.

He quickly looked away with an awkward laugh. “It’s, uh, odd to see staff here. Most of them take advantage of the free meals in the company cafeteria.”

“Hmm, I never turn down free meals. But they only have super healthy meals.” You shook the bag of sweets. “Sometimes you’re just in the mood for some junk food, you know?”

Jisung looked down at his instant ramen and nodded his head. “Yeah, I get that.”

“Besides, it’s not like I come here everyday. Although, if I knew I’d find such nice company, I probably would have come here sooner,” You said, pushing your shoulder gently against his.

“Ah, I don’t come here often either. Although, if you asked, I would definitely show up just for you.”

Jisung gave you a wicked grin, and you covered your mouth with a laugh in hopes of hiding your flushed cheeks, shaking your head in amusement. You didn’t know him that well, but you weren’t expecting something like that to come out of his mouth.

“Wow, Jisung. Are you flirting with me?”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “And if I am?”

“It just seems like such a change from the first time we met,” You mused, leaning in close as well.

Jisung blinked in surprise, his mouth parting open a smidge as his pupils dilated. “Oh, wow. You smell really good.”

You frowned, feeling like reality had just shattered your hopeful fantasy. Jisung was lucky he couldn’t smell your actual scent because you were sure if it wasn’t for your scent blockers, you would be stinking up the store with your sudden mood change.

Jisung leaned back with a worried look. “I- I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, you really do smell good, but I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He started to wave his hand around anxiously, and you forced your face to relax, reaching out to hold one of his hands between yours. He immediately stopped moving, his mouth snapping close and eyes staring deep into yours. You smiled.

“It’s okay. You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” You lied, because you couldn’t explain the truth to him.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, right. Um. Good.”

“There he is.” You smirked, “Guess you’re not that confident after all, huh?”

“What!? No! I mean, I can be confident!”

You shook your head, grabbing his now empty trash and standing up. “Sure you can.”

“I really can!”

Jisung practically fell out of his chair in his rush to follow you. The two of you made your way out to the store and into the cold night air, a sudden chill forcing you to close your jacket around your shoulders in the pursuit of warmth. From behind you, you heard Jisung say his goodbye to the girl manning the cash register.

The second he walked out, a cold burst of air rushed through the street, and a few stray drops of water lingering from when it had rained earlier hit you in your face. Having already been bundled up in your jacket, you only felt the cold on your cheeks, but Jisung had just walked out of the store and had his own hoodie hanging from his arm, leaving him vulnerable to the sudden change in temperature.

He let out a squeak in surprise, arms tightening up against his body as he shivered. He then tried to pull his hoodie on as quickly as possible, but somehow his arm got stuck and he struggled to get his head in the right opening.

You sniggered.

“You’re doing a really good job showing how smooth you are,” You pointed out.

“Shut up.” He said, his voice muffled by the fabric of his hoodie.

He finally managed to figure it out, pulling the hoodie down and letting out a huff. The sleeves were a little too long for him, leaving the beta with an adorable pair of sweater paws and a flushed face (whether from the cold or the embarrassment, you weren’t sure).

“Aww, how cute.”

“Shut up!”

“No! You’re adorable, seriously.”

“I wasn’t going for adorable,” he grumbled, folding his arms. It only made him look even cuter, and you moved forward.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset,” you said, ruffling his hair. “It’s just that it’s hard to imagine you fitting the Stray Kids concept with those big wide eyes of yours. Especially some of the 3racha songs I’ve heard. They seem a little too hard hitting for you.”

Jisung tilted his head away from your hand, rolling his eyes. “Its different when we’re on stage. We have stage personas for a reason.”

“Well, yeah. But those personas don’t come from nowhere. Where do you get all your confidence from?”

“Hmmm. I guess it’s easy when you’ve got a stadium full of beautiful people screaming your name,” He joked, nudging my shoulder with his own.

“Is that what it takes to get you going?” You teased. You don’t know what prompted you to suddenly lean in close, crowding Jisung in from where he was leaning up against the wall. His eyes darted down your face and back up in surprise. “Is that what you need to show me how confident you can be? Hmm? Want me to scream your name?”

“Watch it,” he muttered.

“I thought you were confident.”

Without another word, Jisung spun the both of you around so that you were now in his place. He pushed you up against the wall, not hard enough to hurt you, but enough that you could feel the strength behind his touch. To his credit, he immediately moved his hand away from your shoulder and to the wall behind you, his palm slapping loudly against the brick as he leaned in like it was a cheesy drama where the guy had the girl cornered up against the wall.

The idea behind the gesture probably would have been more effective if a cat didn’t immediately yowl from behind him, causing Jisung to jump in surprise.

You laughed loudly, and not even his glare could get you to stop. Even when he leaned in closer, his other hand coming up to rest on the other side of your head, effectively trapping you between him and the wall, you couldn’t stop the snickers.

“Yah! Stop laughing!”

“I can’t,” You said breathlessly.

“Seriously, you’re ruining the moment.”

You just laughed harder, eyes closed and chest hurting from the shakes that wracked your body. Hands grabbed your waist gently, and you titled your head down with a smile. Jisung rolled his eyes at you, the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth betraying his amusement.

“You done?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah, I think I’m good. I’m sorry.”

“Good.”

It was then that you realized just how close the two of you had gotten since your laughing attack. His hands were still on your waist, face inches apart. You felt your smile drop slowly, eyes darting down to his mouth on instinct. Or maybe it was want.

It felt odd, because you couldn’t smell him. He was wearing scent blockers. And even if he could smell you, it wasn’t your real scent, and it wouldn’t be affected by your feelings. Neither one of you was being drawn in to each other based on instinct. And yet there you were, staring at each other in a knowing way, both of you too afraid to make that first move.

You didn’t even know each other that well.

His hand tightened on your waist, and you reach out to grab his forearms, not sure if you wanted to pull him away, or pull him closer.

Jisung let go. “I should get going.”

“Yeah.”

You forced down the disappointment. He gave you a hug goodbye, one you hadn’t been expecting but accepted less. You wished him a goodnight and spent the few seconds it took for him to make his way down the street staring at his back, wishing he would turn back around. Wishing he didn’t have to leave.

It was for the best.

So why did it feel so wrong?

-0-0-

Comeback season was in full swing.

The first few days were a bit of a chaotic mess at the company, but you managed to keep out of the way, unlike Maya and most of the other stylists. Most of your work took place at your desk, preparing for the upcoming promotions taking place in Japan later that month, and then the world tour that was set to take place afterwards. You were in contact with multiple news programs, city venues, promotional companies; more than a dozen phone calls were made every hour, and it left you feeling mentally exhausted by the time Wednesday came around.

The music video had been dropped early that morning, with captions in every language you knew, and more to be added soon. With every passing hour that nobody complained about any errors, you felt yourself relax a little more, the post-heat and stress finally catching up with you until your eyelids felt so heavy you could barely keep them open.

If it wasn’t for the fact you still had a meeting scheduled later that afternoon, you would’ve found a way to take the rest of the day off and crash. But alas, the job never ends.

Maybe Sooyoung had been right. You could have used a few days off.

Thinking about Sooyoung made your head hurt again. The alpha had been radio silent since last week, and when you let her know your heat had started, she had packed a bag to stay at a friends house. It was normal, something you had both been doing for months since you realized how much your heats and ruts affected each other. But even though it was expected, coming home to an empty apartment was still hard for you.

You tried not to think about the comfort that you sought that weekend. Instead, you tried to focus on the late schedule you were dealing with. The time difference with the stops the boys would be taking on their tours meant you had to stay up late to attend to meetings with other companies, but it also meant you were never up early enough to catch Sooyoung, who was back at the apartment and leaving early to get to the school.

It made it very hard to talk to her. To apologize. You felt like you owed her that at least, if not more for everything she did for you. For how much she cared, even when she didn’t need to. You were finding it hard to accept that.

That people cared. Could care. Would care.

For you.

You let out another sigh and pushed away from your desk. Maybe a coffee from the cafeteria would help your heavy eyelids.

There was heavy traffic in the hallways, most of whom you recognized as stylists. They were clothes on hangers, and some of them had makeup bags. You slowed down to let them pass since they had their hands full. You felt for the stylists. At least all your work was only mental and not physical.

As the doors to the elevator open up, the group shuffle in with their load, and you choose to relax against the wall as you waited for the next one. For a moment, you let your eyes fall close. You still had your eyes closed when the elevator dinged again, signaling it had arrived. You opened your eyes and immediately met Changbin’s own eyes.

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” You joked, shuffling into the elevator.

He gave you a grin in response. “Going down?”

“Hmm. Cafeteria.”

“Long night?”

You hummed. “Yeah. You?”

Changbin let out a tired laugh. “Yeah.”

The two of you rode down to the cafeteria in silence. You walked with him since you were heading in the same direction, but upon entering you saw that Changbin was actually the last of the Stray Kids to arrive to what seemed to be a gathering. Even in a room full of staff and other idols, they seemed to be the loudest of all.

Jisung waved wildly to you when he spotted you, calling out your name. You winced as the people around you suddenly turned to stare at you.

“Han, dude. Inside voice,” Changbin reminded him, pushing the air in front of him down with his hands. “Calm down.”

“I didn’t know you two were on a first name basis,” Chan said, giving you an inquisitive look.

As if suddenly remembering that your outing earlier that week was supposed to be a secret, Jisung shrank back into his seat. “Ah, it’s not that. I mean, I just assumed since we were the same age-“ You crossed your arms, trying (and probably failing) to bite back a smile. Jisung squinted at you. “Actually, I have no idea how old you are.”

“You alling me old?” You joked at him. He gave you a oanicked look, and you kaughed, waving your hand in an 'its okay' manner. “How’s your comeback going?”

Jeongin, a beta if your nose was right, dropped his head into his folded arms with a groan. “Uh, don’t remind me.” From next to him, Hyunjin patted his members’s shoulder without looking away from his ipad.

“Tiring, like always. But it’s going great. Stay’s seem to love the new song,” Chan said, leaning back in his seat with a grin.

You had to look away from him, unable to meet his eyes without thinking of that weekend where your omega wanted nothing more than to have the alpha in your bed with you, the need so bad you had found yourself digging out that hidden shirt you had in your bottom drawer to incorporate to your nest. The combined scent made most of your memories of your heat fuzzy. Although, on that note, Chan wasn’t the only alpha you had thought of in your horny heat ladled mind.

You eyed Minho carefully, but he was looking at his phone.

“I imagine you’re probably busy too. We have a tour coming up,” Seungmin brought up.

“Ah, I’ve been working on that stuff for the past two weeks. Since I got hired, actually,” You pointed out. The others looked up at that.

“That sounds rough. Having to deal with all that work so soon after joining,” Felix said, resting his cheek against his hand.

The position of the omega’s hands made his words come out slightly slurred as he squished his cheeks. You found your eyes resting on his mouth and how it was pushed into a small pout, the pink of his lower lip shiny. You shook your head, both at his comment, but also to keep yourself from staring.

“Nah, it’s not so bad. I haven’t been doing it all on my own, anyways. Since I’m still technically new, I’ve had plenty of help from Jeonhui as she shows me the ropes. I’ll probably be on my own once you’re actually on tour, though.” You smiled ruefully. “That should be fun.”

Changbin beamed. “You’re coming with us?!”

You blinked in surprise at his loud voice. “Yes? I mean, you guys are going on a world tour, and I’m a translator. I’d imagine it be kind of obvious.”

“Oh, right.” The others laughed at Changbin’s sudden embarrassment.

You spotted a small table being cleaned up and figured you should take the chance to get a seat before the cafeteria began to fill up again. You waved goodbye to the boys, wishing them luck in their performances, and made your way to the empty table.

Chan’s eyes followed you as you left.

“They're nice,” Felix mused. “I’m glad they got some time to get settled in before we went on tour. They looked so nervous the first time we met.”

“That’s probably because Minho went all protective alpha on them,” Seungmin said nonchalantly, side eyeing the dancer.

Minho, to his credit, didn’t seemed bothered by all the looks the other’s shot him. “Eh, it was an honest mistake.”

“Hyung!” Jisung whined. “Why do you always have to scare away the pretty ones?”

“Pretty?” Hyunjin finally looked up from what it was he had been working on. “Since when do you care about pretty people?”

Jisung flushed. “Never mind.”

“No no no,” Changbin teased. “Come on, I want to hear more about your little crush.”

“It’s not a crush!”

Chan smiled. He was glad that his members seemed to be getting along well with you, the mysterious omega who had grabbed so much of his attention. He had never intended to go home with anyone the night that he had met you, but the moment that you scent had registered in his brain, his alpha had perked up his ears in interest, something it had never done before. At least, not since he had met his pack mates.

He wasn’t delusional to assume that his interest in you meant that you would one day be a part of that pack. You had ever right to say no if, and when, he asked. But knowing that you had enjoyed your night together, and that you held no ill will against him, made him slightly more hopeful that maybe, just maybe, you would someday be open to him courting you. To joining the pack. To being his mate.

He glanced at Felix, the blond omega laughing at something someone had said or done, his eyes shining like there were a million stars in them. He could only hope that the others would also be open to his plans. After all, he would never imagine inviting you in without their permission. This was their pack just as much as it was his.

Chan let out a sigh.

Soon, he imagined. Soon he’d get his answer.

_o-o_o-o_o-o_o-o_o-o_o-o_

Taglist: (feel free to ask if you want to be added or removed. Still figuring this out, so sorry if it doesn't work)

@3rachasninja @lilyuwon @brojustfknkillm3 @yukichan67 @mallielovssyou @mintchip17 @iweirdthingsblog @maisyyyyyy @neivivenaj

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thisiswhatmentallyhealthyfolksdo · 3 months ago

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so my grandma has an eating disorder, and has for like 50 years at this point, and it's kind of really fascinating, because it turns out all all of her cooking quirks are achually just ed shit she collected over the last 50 years, like

mash potatoes made with water (no butter, no milk, just water)

17 cups of coffee a day (she try to drink black, but can't stand it, so she uses one teaspoon of sugar, and one teaspoon of fake creamer)

tortilla pizza (achually this one is pretty good)

cool whip

I can't believe it's not butter

sugar free jello

fruit with every meal

25 calorie wafer cookies

making everyone eat food in front of her (she straight up counts the calories other people eat, and will keep feeding you ice cream until the number is deemed sufficient)

measuring everything, with a scale

making all her food for breakfast the night before

no butter ever, expect for guests

dinner is coffee

if left alone with a dessert for to long, she will eat the whole thing in 10 mins and feel very bad about it

absolute refusal to have leftovers at her house for any reason

steamed chicken breast

one (1) package of smarties for dessert, eaten 3 bites per smartie piece

planning meals 4-6 weeks in advance (she has called more more then one to find out what I am making for thanksgiving in October, she does this even when it's not holidays)

#tw ana bløg #tw ed ana #tw eating issues #tw ed #4nor3xia #tw

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goosita · 1 year ago

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Do you have any headcanons or blurb thoughts about if Secretary!reader got him a Christmas present? I feel like would be so cute. Happy Holidays if you celebrate!!❤️

oh i’m so soft ❄️

(this takes place between parts 3 and 4)

what do you get for a man who could buy anything he wants?

you’d been thinking all week about what to get for coriolanus for christmas. you’re sure that he’s used to expensive gifts and presents from all sorts of people. but you weren’t particularly wealthy, even for a capitol citizen.

you remembered once that he had a sweet tooth, and you smiled to yourself as you realized what you could do for him.

you spend all evening before your last day at the office for the break rolling out dough, covered in flour and sticky sugar. you used a little cutter to punch out the shape, baking them to a perfect golden brown and then icing them neatly with a piping bag. then, you packaged them up in a nice little red box with a big silver bow atop of it.

two dozen homemade sugar cookies in the shape of snowflakes, for coriolanus snow.

you hoped he would like them, biting your lip as you stepped into the building’s entry hall with a small smile.

“mr. snow?” you called softly, looking around. coriolanus stepped out of his office and smiled softly.

“yes, miss y/n?”

you fidgeted with the bow for a moment, grinning sheepishly. “merry christmas,” you said, handing the box to him.

coriolanus lifted his brow curiously, taking it from you and lifting the lid open. he blinked down at the neatly packaged cookies, his mouth open in a small little “o” shape.

“sweet snow for a sweet snow,” you joked, knowing it was a cheesy remark. coriolanus eyes lifted to you, tears just barely brimming at his lash line.

oh. had you upset him?

“coryo…?” you tried softly, taking a step forward towards him. you wondered if you’d overstepped somehow. if you’d read this little thing between you two wrong.

instead of opening his mouth to shout at you, perhaps tell you this was ridiculous, coriolanus set the box aside as gingerly as possible. then his arms were suddenly wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight hug. you were startled for a moment before completely melting into his embrace, your own arms fitting easily around his middle.

“thank you,” he breathed softly. “you don’t know what it means to me. that you took time to make these for me.”

of course you’d never know how deeply the gesture struck his heart. he’d never told a soul about his childhood and teenage years, not since his first year at the Capitol University. there was no way you could know that the sweet treats would take him back to a time when his stomach lurched painfully at all hours of the night, a time when he would have openly weeped at the gift of any sort of food.

it had been so long since someone had baked something just for him. ma plinth had passed some years ago, the last person to choose to spend her time making treats for coriolanus. it was more than the memory of the years he spent starving that moved him. to know that you had thought of him, had spent your own free time to do something kind like this for him, had his heart softening more than you’d ever realize.

“you’re welcome,” you whispered back, tentatively stroking his back with your fingertips. after a long moment, coriolanus seemed to gather himself and let you go with a small grin.

his hand gently held your chin for just a moment. “merry christmas, miss y/n.”

#v tiny blurb happy holidays !!#anon #politician!coryo x secretary!reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow angst #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tbosbas #coryo

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autisticlenaluthor · 4 months ago

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Dress

Kara stays up until nearly three in the morning, listening to the sounds of the city below. She eavesdrops on arguing neighbors and house parties blaring music multiple streets away as she fights back yawns and flips through TV channels. It’s tedious and bordering on painful, but it keeps her from fixating on her bottomless pit of a rumbling stomach and the cramps that make it impossible to sleep.

Okay– so, maybe Kara hadn’t tried to sleep. But sleep hasn’t been coming easy these days and being in a new city in a new state with no plan and no friends other than her sister doesn’t exactly make it easy to calm the mind.

That’s why Kara stays awake and distracted. She tries not to think about how Alex is being forced to give up even more years of her life and even more space in her home to accommodate her sister’s comfort. She tries not to spiral over Lena and how she lives fifteen minutes away now– maybe even less– and how she’s going to have to suck it up and tell her about the move eventually. But most importantly, Kara refuses to think about the fact that she truly feels like she may implode from hunger.

It’s a pointless effort.

At 2:45, she finds herself staring blankly into the fridge as she tries to distinguish between what’s Alex’s and what’s Kelly’s. Her stomach twists into an even tighter knot, causing memories of her first few weeks on Earth to flood her.

Eliza had found the hoards of packaged apple slices from free school lunches and expired Uncrustables stashed in her dresser drawer, led by the trail of ants marching through the second floor. Eliza tried explaining that she didn’t need to worry– they were never going to run out of food, they’d always be able to buy more. But the reassurance just felt like a drop in the bucket of everything else Kara was supposed to be absorbing.

She hadn’t known then, how to explain that the money was never the problem. She knew Eliza had had enough of it– she saw it in the clothes Alex wore and the jewelry around the older woman’s neck. It was just that the moment the yellow sun hit Kara’s skin– it was like a black hole erupted within her. It was aching and screaming– begging to be filled.

Constantly, Kara tried. She doubled up portions on family meals and guzzled protein shakes in between. But it was never enough. Her appetite would always return and with it, the question:

What if this feeling never goes away?

Staring at her big sister’s half-empty fridge, Kara feels thirteen again.

She’s anxious in a way she can’t quite describe with a restlessness she knows will never leave. The only thing Kara can cling to is the notion that she needs to snack on something before she loses her mind and she can’t justify stealing groceries from her new roomies.

So she does the logical thing and goes to the nearest 24-hour mini-mart at 3:07 am– clad in flannel pajama pants and tie-dye crocs.

There, Kara finds herself paralyzed in front of another freezer. Only this time, it’s in the frozen food aisle with a plastic basket in her hand. She’s filled it with all the essentials– pumpkin spice pretzels, a box of pasta shaped like the characters from Arthur, three things of frozen potstickers, and four variations of Hot Pockets.

As Kara stares, she tries to remember what the hell it was she came here to buy. She knows it wasn’t the cartoon mac-and-cheese and it definitely wasn’t the pretzels that Alex is going to bully her for later. But all she can register is how loudly the lights are humming and the fact that every so often, the one on her left will flicker like the bulb is about to die.

Kara blows through closed lips and turns her head. Down one of the aisles, there’s something sparkly and purple. She follows the glimmer with narrow eyes until she finds its source: a long, tight dress. The kind of thing you wear to a gala.

Except the woman who wears it isn’t at a gala– she’s standing in front of a selection of cheap wine, holding one bottle by the neck as she examines the others on the shelves. She has dark hair which cascades down her shoulders and the gown accentuates her curves in all the right places.

Even without seeing her face, Kara knows she’s beautiful.

She can’t help the way that she stares at her, trying to get a better look. It’s something on any other day– she’d never allow herself to do. But she’s only ever known one beautiful brunette with the money for dresses like that one and reasons to wear them. The woman she still hasn’t found a way to be honest with, even after three painstakingly long years apart.

Kara takes a hesitant step forward and watches for just a moment longer, catching the way that she turns and tilts her head, causing raven hair to fall down in front of her. From the angle of their bodies– it’s impossible to get a glimpse of her face, but when the movement is followed by a familiar flipping sound, Kara can’t help it. She freezes.

Because she knows that sound. There’s only two people in the entire world whose heart rates she’s trained herself to notice: Alex and Lena’s.

Lena’s heart rate just piqued which means Lena Luthor is standing less than ten feet away from her.

At the realization, Kara drops her basket. It clatters to the floor and topples over– spilling its contents across the linoleum and Kara nearly goes down with it. Her pulse skyrockets and anxiety fuels her body with enough energy to send a rocket to the moon.

“Fuckfuckfuck.”

She scrambles to pick up the spilled groceries but as soon as she hits the ground– she can see Lena’s head whipping around to find the source of the commotion. Kara drops the boxes again and without a second thought– makes a run for it. She dashes straight into the cereal aisle, in such a panic she forgets about her super speed.

By the time she’s ducked down on the floor, gripping one of the shelves for dear life, she’s knocked over three things of cereal and four jars of peanut butter. Still, she peers her head just past the shelf– now only able to see the outline of Lena’s figure and the slightest sliver of her face.

She can see traces of red lipstick (when did Lena start wearing that?) and the outline of her nose. When Lena turns– Kara catches her face through the wine bottles. Rao, she could collapse again at the sight.

Her pale skin makes her hair glisten and her green eyes glimmer below a thin stroke of eyeliner. Her lips, painted that fierce red, are parted ever so slightly in confusion, and she knits her brow the same way she used to when they were kids.

Somehow, Lena looks exactly the same and completely different and Kara doesn’t know how to process it.

She’s seen the occasional selfie Lena sends when she goes somewhere new– like Paris or the Boston Science Museum and every so often, she’ll appear in one of Sam’s Facebook posts– posted with shot glasses at the bar, or kissing the cheek of an adorably tan toddler. But nothing compares to really seeing her.

Her presence now is a forceful reminder that Lena’s existence is true. It isn’t just an occasional light on Kara’s phone or a status update from a friend of a friend. Lena exists in the same world as her. She lives a life that Kara was once stupid enough to believe she’d always be a part of.

#supercorptober #supercorptober2024 #this is the first teaser for college au!!!#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp fanfic #supercorp fanfiction

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plumbobpaparazzi · 10 months ago

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Peek into my Mods folder...

This is dedicated to @alltimefail-sims or anyone who needs a little help with lag!

I have several mods I refer to as "efficiency mods" that are little quality-of-life tweaks that make the game smoother for me, either by reducing lag or reducing immersion-breaking hiccups. As always, your mileage may vary, but hopefully this is helpful to someone. :) List of mods under cut to keep your dash clean.

No Intro - Whether you are trying to 50/50 your mods, testing new CC, or just need to shave time off your game loading... get rid of the cinematic intro.

Free Will Delay - Do your sims curbstomp their queue and proceed to fuck off to something unrelated? Yeah, me too, until I got this mod. From the mod description: "[E]very time you tell your sim to do something, they will be forced to listen! …For 5 minutes. Then they get free will back again. This is probably why controlling Sims in Sims 4 feels so bad! Because you lose control the second they start doing what they're told. Even if you queue up actions, the total time is STILL five minutes- because it goes from the last direction you give your sim. So you can tell them to do 3 hours worth of stuff while paused…and they'll get control back after 5 minutes. This mod changes this timeframe to an option of your choosing, to make controlling your sims feel more rigid."

Simulation Unclogger - This is an oldie-but-goodie mod from Turbodriver that helps interrupt when Sims get stuck in an endless action loop.

Evolve/Fertilize All Plants - Kind of weird how we can Harvest All but you can't Evolve or Fertilize All, right?

No Empty Venues When Arriving - Helps with the issue of going to a community lot and waiting around for Sims to show up. May cause increased lag if you are bottlenecked by RAM.

Food Autonomy Overhaul - Stops your stupid Sims from eating ingredients, AND allows Sims who hate cooking to autonomously grab quick meals. Didn't know they wouldn't do that? Yeah. That's a thing.

Don't Do That! Version 1 and Version 2 - Removes autonomy on annoying actions that can't be affected by MCCC tuner, like reactions and some trait idle animations.

Less Obsession - Lowers autonomy for certain things without disabling entirely. I still want my Sims to paint, but I don't want them to start a new figure painting any time they are left unsupervised.

Smarter Self-Care - Makes Sims prioritize their needs better before they are uncomfortable. I only use the packages for NPCs and Pets.

NPC Relationship Autonomy Fix - Stops random Sims from breaking into your house to ask to be your BFF (and tunes the requirements so they actually have to be your friend first.)

Buy More Upgrade Parts - Allows you to buy a package of 50 upgrade parts for when you are grinding out handiness or robotics.

The following mods are all by Bienchen and don't have a direct page for each package. You can search by name pretty easily on their website. I recommend flipping through and grabbing anything you find useful - I have a total of 368 of their mods installed. Here are some highlights:

novisibleecoeffects - The aurora will nuke your framerate. I know it's pretty, but oh my god.

noautonomousbakewhitecake - Does what it says on the tin, keeps your house from being overrun by cakes.

harvestnogroupinteraction - Stops club members from autonomously harvesting plants. Those are MY death flowers!

lessemotionidles - Reduces unnecessary idle animations from emotions, great for preventing your Sims from looking flirty at inappropriate times...

lesspreferenceidles - Stops your sims from thinking about how much they like fishing/fitness/etc. when they should be doing things.

happytoddleridledisabled - Stops the idling from the Happy Toddler trait. SUPER useful for family gameplay.

laundry_buffsandsoloidlesfix - Stops or reduces idles related to laundry. It's just clothes, bro

eldertweak - Reduces elder animation idles.

hastopeewalkstyleforchildonly - Helps get your Sims to the toilet in a reasonable amount of time.

tinyhousebuffhider - I know I'm in a Tiny Home, I don't need a moodlet.

lottraiteffectshider - Hides the little floating lightbulbs around Sims heads from lot traits.

notraitnotifications - I know my geek likes video games, I don't need the pop-up every time I play.

noholidayoutcomenotification - Please don't rub my nose in the fact I forgot to celebrate.

nofestivalnotifications and nofestivalnotificationsound - Helpful when a pack is new, but years later... no thanks.

noenrollmentandscholarshipinfo - No more info screen about the two universities. I think most of us know it all by now.

nouprootplant - Never cry because of a misclick again

simschangeoutfitwhenhotorcold - Should have already been autonomous, but alas.

novisualpoliteintroeffects - I don't know if I am the only one, but the glowing really bothers me.

restaurantsittweak - Sit down and eat your dang food! No more wandering Sims.

longerprom - Takes 6 hours instead of 4 so you can actually do something.

I probably have other QoL mods that could be helpful, but these are my recommendations to start with. Love to all the modders that keep this game playable <3

#sims 4 mods #ts4 #mods #ts4 mods

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lets-play-our-game · 3 months ago

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Old Spidey, New City

I just came to my senses

Peter looked around groggily, taking in his surroundings. He was laying supine on a flat rooftop, several other building towering over him, the sight of huge digital billboards flashing brightly, incomprehensively, around him..

He had hit the ground, - Roof? - hard, and while the city around him was blindingly bright, he was sure it had been daylight he had seen before passing out. Either way, it was a dark sky that shone above him now, with just as many stars as he was use to (which was close to none on a good night)

In fact, he wasn’t even sure the spell had worked, it still looked like his city, but Strange wouldn’t have left him unconscious on a rooftop. They were both assholes, but not that kind. Not “cast a spell but fuck off before the other person realised it didn’t work” kind of asshole. Peter certainly wouldn’t have hurt him if it hadn’t, Strange had been upfront about the chances.

Must have worked then.

I live in another dimension

Fuck! It worked.

At least, the jump did. Time and research would show if this was the right universe. Had to make sure there wasn’t already a Peter Parker in this one, that mutants existed and he wouldn’t be dissected the first chance the government got, that superhero was still a job he could avoid signing up for..

Regardless, he was out of the old one, and his family would be safe.

Just, without him.

Peter stood and released a deep breath.

Fear is nonexistent

There was nothing he could do now, just hope the doctor could carry out the rest of the plan. He’d done his part.

Peter pulled his mask down over his face, whatever emotions he was showing gone from view, grabbed his small pack from where it had landed, and stepped to the edge of the roof.

*thwip*

Suit up and swing through the city

He swung high, avoiding lit windows and people out of their balconies. He was tired. So, bone dead tired and a fight was the last thing he was itching for. He knew a few good spots to crash in his old city, but who knew if they existed here.

As spiderman swung, he slowly became aware of the differences between the two cities. The ads were different for one, and what few brands recognised seemed to have picked different colours. Coke-a-cola had radioactive-orange packaging. He was not looking forward to a neon christmas, if that was a thing here.

Police lights were still red and blue, but the siren was different. That was hardly a surprise.

The biggest difference, and he almost fell out of the sky when he finally noticed it, was all the cars drove on the wrong side of the road.

“What the fuck..” He perched on the side of a building and watched the traffic, letting his camo take hold and blending in with the concrete he gripped to.

He shook himself free after a few minutes and swung on.

He was so fucking tired.

Annihilate, I’m wide awake Be very afraid

He found a rooftop that even in this universe didn’t have stairwell access, internal or external, which was perfect. He threw down his small bag, which contained little more than a change of civilian clothes, a few snack bars and a one or two mementos, onto the dirty concrete.

I’m in my own world give me space

Exhausted, he lay down, the bag as a make-shift pillow, and stared up at the sky, letting the noises of his new city, his new life, surround him.

Tomorrow, he might go looking for a better bed, food, a job maybe, hopefully a shower

Tonight - he just needed to get some fucking sleep.

I’m in my own universe give me space..

#Please accept this humble offering for peer review #Hunting!Spider #Spiderman #Peter Parker #hemlock-dreams #Hemlock's Hunting!spider #Turns out recovering from surgury gives you plenty of time to write #Going feral over this spiderman ngl

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joannechocolat · 10 months ago

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Content Warning: contains scenes of graphic kindness; wokery; tolerance; profanity.

A few days ago, I posted a little Twitter poll, asking readers (and authors) what they thought of trigger warnings. I followed this up with a short thread, outlining my own thoughts on this, and how they have changed over the years.

The Daily Mail immediately seized the idea, and without contacting me, or asking for further clarification, published an article quoting my words, under a headline that was both inflammatory and untrue: Trigger warnings should be put on EVERY book to make readers feel 'safe', Chocolat author Joanne Harris says.

Predictably, this caused a frenzy of reaction from Daily Mail readers and Twitter trolls, including accusations of censorship and “pandering to moronic snowflakes”. Several people (who I suspect, have never even picked up one of my books) swore never to read them. One charmer wrote: “Fucking pathetic. What a dick the author must be.”

I don’t blame the writer of the article; most clickbait headlines are added by someone else - in this case, by someone who couldn’t even be bothered to read the article, let alone my original thread. It has since been quietly changed, presumably in response to my comments, although once again, without any communication with me. But as a result of these comments (and some more polite ones from people asking about the poll), I think it’s time I made it clear, both where I stand on trigger warnings, and why the public perception of them, fuelled by culture wars debates, is both skewed and inaccurate.

First, the result of my poll: about 35% of the people who answered were in favour of some kind of content warning. About 30% were against, and the rest were undecided, curious about the result. To me this suggests that most people are generally positive or undecided on the subject. From the comments, it seemed to me that many of the people who were against trigger warnings were afraid they might lead to censorship, or spoilers, or editing of the classics, or stopping people from reading the classics, or authors losing the right to free speech.

But here's the thing. Trigger warnings are nothing to do with those things. Here’s why people have been misled, and why it matters to put things straight.

First, this expression; “triggered.” Like “woke” and “snowflake” it has been weaponized to mean something like “upsetting the libs.” Reader, that's not what it means. The concept of triggering only applies to someone with PTSD or some kind of serious psychological trauma. That makes it irrelevant to politics. Anyone can have trauma. Anyone is potentially vulnerable to mental illness. And that’s why trigger warnings exist; to warn people who might suffer a relapse, or some other kind of serious harm, if exposed without warning to certain images, scenes or narrative strands. Some of the obvious ones might be sexual violence; graphic images; mental illness; eating disorders; suicide. I’m sure there are lots more. But we’ve had content warnings (if you prefer) on films for decades without any resistance, and TV shows routinely flag up scenes with flashing images, etc. that might trigger (that word again) an epileptic seizure in anyone susceptible.

And yes, it makes sense. I mean, why would you want someone to have a seizure if you could just warn them against it? Who but a sadist would argue that people with epilepsy should be forced to have seizures, or that having regular seizures will make them more resilient somehow, or that people afraid to have seizures should just stop watching films and TV altogether, or that warnings against flashing lights would somehow spoil other people’s enjoyment of the show? And yet those are all things that people have said to me recently about content warnings.

To me content warnings in books are like content warnings on packaged food. Most people don’t read them, unless they have a special interest or need to know. Why do they need to know? There might be any number of reasons. Maybe they’re vegan, and want to avoid eating animal products. Maybe they have a religious dietary restriction. Maybe they have a mild allergy to peanuts or to shellfish. Or maybe it’s a more a serious allergy that could even result in their death. Either way, details are useful. Content warnings in books are the same, except that instead of triggering a physical attack, certain things trigger a mental one.

I'm not talking here about things that might simply cause offence. I sometimes use profanity in my books; I sometimes write about topics that people may find challenging. That's not going to change. I won't add content warnings for swearing, or nudity, or paganism, or LGBT issues. None of those things cause trauma, though I'm willing to believe they may in some cases cause offence.

But mental trauma is just as real as any physical injury. It’s not just “in your head”. It requires adjustments in the same way that any other condition may require adjustments - whether that's a wheelchair ramp, or subtitles on TV, or studs on the pavement to help the blind.

And yet, the culture wars narrative – led by a right-wing media - is leaning increasingly towards a “survival of the fittest” mentality; repeatedly encouraging able-bodied people to question disability, white people to question racism, rich people to question poverty, and urging those who have never experienced mental trauma to dismiss the needs of those who struggle with it daily. Empathy and kindness are presented as political gestures, earning “woke points” (whatever they are), rather than the elements of basic human decency. And of course, people who talk about “decency” in the context of nudity, LGBT issues and profanity often see no problem in labelling themselves “anti-woke”, or sneering at the “Be Kind brigade”, or making dismissive judgments about the lives of people they will never know. Somewhere along the line, somehow, basic human kindness has been reframed as a tool of the left, and those who hold right-wing opinions are encouraged to reject it.

Well, fuck that. People are better than this. Some people need content warnings, and it’s not up to you or me to decide whether their need is valid or not. That’s why, from now on, I’ll be adding including content warnings to my books, and to my author website. Ignore them or not, as you choose.

But to those who are offended by the concept of inclusion, here’s a trigger warning just for you: Contains tolerance; scenes of moderate kindness; depictions of graphic wokery. Read my books at your peril. Or don’t. Isn’t freedom marvellous?

#writing #trigger warnings

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i-write-boop-spoops · 1 year ago

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Guzma Fluff Alphabet

first piece of the year ignore that it's feb

thanks for the anon who requested this! gn! reader, some mild angst and insecurity. not proofread lol

Enjoy!

A = Activities (what do they like to do with their s/o? how do they spend their free time?)

He LOVES a lazy morning together, just snuggling and goofing off in bed, drifting in-and-out of sleep in each other’s arms. He loves to make you laugh and fluster by blowing raspberries on your tummy or kissing your neck. Your slightly raspy voice and bleary eyes and bedhead… it’s just his favourite image in the world

He’s also a capital G Ganer (well actually he just plays whatever the Pokémon world’s equivalent to CoD is) so he likes playing with you or just having you watch him play how riveting. Of course, he’s up for playing sone of the games you like, your Pokémon Crossing island is so cute!!

Guzma is a bit of a homebody when it comes to hanging out with his boo, so things like just snuggling together while you binge a show or movie, or while you show each other asinine Tiktoks, are totally up his alley. It’s just a no-pressure way of spending time with you.

Also, living on the beautiful Ula’Ula island, you visit the beach ALL the time (plus it’s free!)

B = Beauty (what do they admire about their s/o? what do they think is beautiful about them?)

You are just so… kind. So kind. Not just to him, but to everyone. He’s the big bad bug man, a bully, a (reformed) petty criminal and yet you treat him so well. You’re kind to his scary bug Pokémon too, kind to the grunts. You’re just a wonderful person, too pure for this world.

Plus, you’re cute as fuck AND you got a nice booty. The total package.

C = Comfort (how do they help their s/o when they feel down? what makes them feel better?)

Guzma…. he’s not great with words. He really doesn’t know what to say when you’re not feeling great, doesn’t know what words will help comfort you. But he can give you a hug, take you into his big arms, hold you to his warn chest, and gently stroke your back with his large hand. He’ll let you wet his shirt with your tears if you need to, he’ll hold you anyways if you don’t.

And when you’re ready, he’ll make a corny joke to break the tension and make you smile again, he LOVES your smile :)

Unsurprisingly, he hates feeling vulnerable. He’s the big, bad, boss, he shouldn’t be crying. He’s ashamed of this “weak” side of himself, so he tends to lock himself away, distance himself from you. He doesn’t want you to see him like this. Of course, because you’re concerned for his wellbeing, you weedle your way into his room, and let him bury his face in your stomach and hold him.

Just talk, about anything. Distract him with stories from your work/school, funny tales from your childhood, that one Togedemaru that keeps invading your garden. Play with his hair. Make him forget.

D = Dreams (how do they picture their future with their s/o and in general?)

Before he met you, he kinda stopped having dreams…. he failed his trials, wasn’t talking with his family, was just stuck in that ol’ Pokémon-evil-team shtick.

And then you came into his life, and suddenly, he’s thinking about getting a job, one that’ll probably be minimum wage and gruelling, but he’ll work himself half to death if it means he’ll be worthy of you. Maybe he’ll even go to college.

He just wants to be the kind of man you want to spend your life with, that you can give proud toasts about at your milestone anniversaries. Whether said life involves you two getting married and/or having a couple kiddos or not, he doesn’t mind either way.

E = Equal (are they the dominant one in the relationship or are they rather passive?)

Despite him being the big boss and all, he’s actually the more passive one. Honestly, he’s more into being chill and casual and cosy with you. So, you have to be the one to drag him out of the house to do something. You’re the one who suggests activities and food choices and all sorts.

F = Fight (how quick are they to forgive their s/o? what are they like in an argument? who says sorry first?)

Unsurprisingly, Guzma has a bit a lot of a temper. So, it means he’s quick to anger, and he’ll get quite thick. A lot of it is due to his insecurities, so seemingly innocuous things can set him off.

He’s very accusatory in fights, loud and in-your-face. Even a little mean :( (but he will immediately crumple if you start to cry)

He’s been working on himself though, so he will own up to his mistake. He’ll slink over to you, hunched over, hands buried in his pockets, gaze tilted downwards as he mumbles a “Sorry baby…”

He’s not embarrassed to say sorry, he’s embarrassed he got so emotional and angry in the first place. He NEVER wants to make you feel upset or unloved by him.

G = Gifts (what kind of things do they gift to their s/o? are they spontaneous or do they stick to special events like anniversaries?)

SNACKS. snacks. s n a c k s.

You will NEVER go hungry dating Guzma! Every time you see him, he’s at least got your favourite candy bar or fruit slices on him. He’s got a little basket in his room full of crispy corn snacks and chips for you two to munch on while you’re hanging out. When you tell him you’ve had a bad day, he WILL buy you a pint of ice cream for you to cry into.

Other gifts he likes to give you tend to be cute but small. Little plushes and keyrings and knickknacks. He likes picking out quirky things that he thinks suits you from thrift shops and markets and such.

For birthdays and such, he’s more likely to do a little collection of smaller gifts than one big gift. He’s always way more into giving you a memorable experience than anything else.

He’d really love to spoil you with diamonds and designer goods, but he ain’t got the money for that.

H = Heart Eyes (what are they like in love? is it obvious to others? how do they express their love? do they brag about their s/o to others?)

Guzma is so. fucking. happy. Like, genuinely on cloud nine. He’s sure of himself, cockier than usual, always having this smug grin on his face because he knows he’s caught a baddie.

The real question is, when is he not bragging about you?? He’s already boastful as is, so with you in his life. It’s practically comical how much he brags about you.

I = Impression (what first attracted them to their s/o? how accurate was their first impression to how their s/o actually is?)

Typically, when Guzma sees someone he’s attracted to, it’s all horniness on his part – but with you, it was different. You were just so beautiful, cute and pretty and kind and lovely. He was in awe.

He, of course, still thought you were incredibly hot and sexy, but he was feeling more than that for you, even at first sight.

J = Jealousy (do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?)

Very jealous. As cocky as he is, he’s deeply insecure, and is convinced he doesn’t deserve you… but that manifests as possessiveness. He’s terrified of losing you, especially to someone else.

When a love rival is about, he has an arm around you, using his large frame to shield you from whoever he’s worried about (whether it’s warranted or not). He’s all over you too, kissing you, touching you, making it obvious to everyone that you’re his.

And if anyone does try make a move on you? It’s gonna be a battle and not necessarily a pokemon one

K = Kiss (are they a good kisser? what was their first kiss like? where do they kiss the most?)

Oh, Guzma loves to kiss! He’s a playful, but passionate kisser, who loves making you smile with his smooches. He also can’t just give you one kiss, it has to be a flurry of kisses. He just loves having his lips on you.

His favourite place to kiss, other than your lips and neck, is your tummy! It makes you all giggly and squirmy and it warms his heart. He really likes your abdomen and he thinks it deserves all the attention!

more guzma kissing headcanons here!

L = Little Things (what are the little things they love about their s/o? are they attentive?)

omg when you hit him with that cute little smile of yours? His heart melts. And if you giggle too? Something get this man into heart surgery, his heart can’t TAKE the cuteness!

He loves your hands too, they’re so small compared to his, so delicate. He loves the way they fit in his hands, he treats them as if they’re delicate (which he has never done with anything before)

M = Marriage (do they want to get married? how do they propose? what would the wedding be like?)

Guzma would die if he got the chance to be your hubby. Spending the rest of his life with his boo, your love cemented and recognised by all AND a sick-ass party with CAKE? he’s sold.

Well, he would be, if it weren’t for his pesky insecurities getting in the way. He’s not good enough for you, he tells himself, you deserve better. You deserve the big white wedding and the stability other men can provide.

Of course, you knock him upside the head with the biggest reality-check of his life, and he finally comes to realisation he needs to marry you

Saves up to buy you a nice ring, and to take you out on a real night on the town (well mainly, that really nice Paldean place you wanted to try, and some ice cream afterwards). He takes you to the beach then, to watch the sunset. He’s sweating buckets the whole time, and when he finally gets down on one knee, he fucking forgets his whole speech and after a whole minute of awkward silence he eventually just says; “..Marry me?”

You say yes of course, and later that year you tie the knot at that very beach. It’s cute and a little casual, there’s a buffet, one of the grunts are DJ-ing (your relatives are requesting 80s classics he’s never heard of). It’s genuinely just a really fun, amazing night, made even better by the fact that YOU’RE MARRIED TO GUZMA!!!

N = Nicknames (what do they call their s/o? what do they get called?)

Does he ever even call you by your actual name? In sincere, raw moments maybe. But most of the time, he’s calling you “boo” (his personal fave), “Babe/baby”, “cutie”, “cutiebug” (don’t let the grunts hear him call you that, he’ll never live it down) or some play on your name.

He even hits you with the “bro” sometimes.

You call him things like “Guz” or “Big guy” (He likes that one, makes him feel big and protective). Occasionally you’ll call him “Ma” which gets a chuckle outta everyone.

O = Open (do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? is it easy for them to share?)

Guzma puts on the big bad boss front a lot, it’s to protect himself. He is deeply insecure in himself – but he doesn’t want anyone to know that, let alone you, the person he loves so much.

But he can’t hide it forever, and as you become more and more serious about each other, those walls are chipped away by your kindness and your understanding nature. You start getting glimpses into his vulnerable side, into parts of his past that he’s not fond of. Soon enough, you’ve pulled away all that chitinous armour, and found the insecure boy beneath, who you love with all your heart nonetheless.

P = Pancakes (are they a good cook? how often do they cook for their s/o? breakfast in bed or fancy dinner dates?)

Guzma’s not bad at all… he just needs a little more practise, and a little more variety. He tends not to cook for himself, mostly eating takeout and ready meals. Sometimes he just has an energy drink instead of breakfast. He does cook for you though, because he wants to treat you right (and also because he doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob)

He can make a standard pasta sauce, a curry sauce, a toasty, pancakes and a chilli. As the two of you continue to date, he starts to up his culinary catalogue (sometimes to disastrous effect oops)

Sometimes you two are lazy, or just have cravings, and he’ll buy you takeout too. He tends to stick to pizza, but you can convince him to expand his horizons (he ended up really enjoying sushi!)

When bringing you for a night on the town, he mainly just brings you to fast-food places – he’s broke – but every now and then he’ll bring you to a nice restaurant to wine and dine you.

Q = Quirk (a random quality/ability that is beneficial to their relationship.)

You have scary dog or scary mon? privileges. Absolutely nobody is gonna mess with you when you’re out with the big, bad bug man.

also you two lovingly recreate the “he asked for no pickles” meme all the time

R = Romance (how romantic are they? are they cliché or creative?)

Guzma is surprisingly romantic. He thinks you deserve the world, and while he doesn’t think he can give it to you, he tries his best. He likes to get you flowers when he can or take you on cute (but cheap) dates.

He’s bad with words, he’d love to wax poetic about your beauty and the love he has for you, but it never really comes out how he’d like. You get the sentiment though.

S = Sleep (who falls asleep first? do they need their s/o close to them? do they have any bad habits?)

It really depends, sometimes he hits the pillow and he’s out like a light, other times he likes to stay up and watch your cute face as you drift off.

Whenever you sleep in the same bed, you always end up with your limbs tangled in his, or with him enveloping you as the big spoon. You’re his teddy bewear, through and through. He needs to snuggle you to get a good night’s sleep

He snores SO LOUD and drools

T = Thrill (do they need to spice up their relationship with new things or do they stick to a routine? how often do they do new things?)

Personally, he’d prefer to just be chill and hang out – but he doesn’t want to bore you, or make you think he doesn’t care, so he does try and bring you on new and fun experiences, even ones he totally doesn’t have interest in, just because he thinks you’d like them. In the early stages, he brought you to things that neither of you enjoy, just because they were popular, and he was afraid he’d look like a bad boyfriend if he didn’t bring you there. He grew out of this once he became more secure in himself and in your relationship.

U = Unity (did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? what traits do they share?)

The introduction of you in his life is like a pivotal branching point in the timeline. From day one he wanted to be the kind of man you deserve, and he starts to fill that role little by little. If you’d ask him today, he’d still say you’re too good for him, but both of you can see the metamorphosis he’s gone through. He’s kinder, gentler, more patient, more understanding, more generous, and more confident in himself.

V = Value (how important is their relationship to them? what is it worth compared to other things in their life?)

You are Guzma’s number one priority. Nothing has mattered nor will EVER matter more to him than you. If you asked, he’d steal the moon for you. Your smile is the most precious thing to him in the world, he’d do anything to keep it.

W = Wild Card (a random fluff headcanon.)

Totally up for getting matching tattoos or piercings… or even just getting the ink by himself to honour you!

X = XOXO (do they like to kiss and cuddle? are they upfront about their relationship or rather shy when in public?)

The real question is… when is he not touching you?

He always has a hand on you, holding your hand, stroking your back, smacking dat ass… in public, in private. There is absolutely zero ambiguity whether you two are dating, because his displays of affection do not dwindle under the eyes of others.

Sure, he loves to cop a feel, but he’s also really big on hugs and kisses and cuddles. Having you in his arms just makes him feel whole, y’know?

Naturally, due to his body type, he is an AMAZING hugger.

Y = Yearning (how do they cope when they spend time away from their s/o? do they miss their s/o?)

Guzma does NOT take your absence well. You are his sunshine after all, his cinnamon applin, the cream in his coffee, the chocolate sauce on his ice cream. A day without you is a lifetime of misery for him.

When you’re apart you text all the time, and facetime in the evenings. Not being able to feel you physically hurts him, but being able to see your cute face and listen to your sweet voice definitely lessens it somewhat. You fall asleep on facetime with each other often.

Z = Zoo (do they have pets? do they want some in the future?)

Bugs, bugs, bugs, bugs. So many bugs! Small ones, big ones, cute ones, scaey ones… all the bugs!

#guzma #guzma x reader #guzma headcanons #guzma pokemon #guzma pokemon x reader #guzma pokemon headcanons #ya boy guzma #request

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yuurei20 · 1 year ago

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Hiiii!!

Okay, so question - Does Crowley give the MC any allowance? We're trying to figure out if MC has any sort of budget/need for one. I'm not sure if the cafeteria is just Lunch only (and if that's free for the students) or if it's all meals free, but then If all the school's food is free I feel like no one would use Azul's lounge nearly as much. I know in EN Chapter 2 Crowley threatens grim and MC with the cost of their living expenses - But I'm not sure if that translates to him handing them money or just a general cost of living there without tuition. If. NRC has a tuition...?

Basically - Does Crowley give MC any money regularly?

Hello hello!! Thank you for this question! :> This topic has kind of been touched upon before in response to a question about the novel prefect's allowance and NRC's tuition, but this is a great opportunity to put it all together.

In the prologue Crowley declares that Grim and the prefect are allowed to live in Ramshackle for free, but they will need to pay for their own food, clothing and incidentals. It seems the prefect has no money on them with which to do so, so Crowley hires them as janitorial staff.

(The scene above is almost identical in the novel, with the addition of, "Your wages, well, you will be compensated fairly according to the nature of your work.")

What the game is vague about is whether or not the prefect and Grim are monetarily compensated for their work, or if they are just working in exchange for meals and clothes.

But they do seem to have money from somewhere, purchasing various souvenirs for themselves and others throughout events, so it might not be impossible?

Trein has a line of, "You must be judicious with the funds the headmage gave you," but we do not technically know if they received money only for Glorious Masquerade or if he is referencing money that they receive from Crowley regularly.

The novels do answer this question, but the novels will sometimes change details from game (i.e. the retconning of Leona's introduction, the addition of multiple new scenes, etc), so while it might be ok to use them as a reference, we cannot emphatically say, "this is how it is in the novels, so the game must be the same."

The second novel begins with Yuuya, Ace and Deuce making repairs to Ramshackle, and Yuuya later compensates Ace and Deuce for their help, in cash, by buying them pastries on Bakery Day in the cafeteria:

"In response, Ace and Deuce smile as they place several white packages on the table. Here and there Yuuya can see thick slices of roast beef and vibrant green lettuce. There are round breads bursting with cream, baguettes topped with melted cheese, and more—it seems they were able to buy quite a considerable amount.

But they still have change leftover, which they pass to Yuuya, so the prices must be student friendly. It makes sense that bakery days are so popular.

Still smiling, Ace and Deuce sit across from Yuuya.

‘Thanks for the food!’

‘Gonna dig right in!’

‘Of course. Thanks for helping with the repairs to Ramshackle.’” -Twisted Wonderland the Second Novel

So novel-prefect is being paid in cash, and seems to be budgeting accordingly. This is particularly significant because it happens in Book 2, after the prefect and Grim have transitioned from janitors to students. While their roles are different, it seems they are still being paid for repairs they make.

And this might be also happening in the game, although I don't think it is ever acknowledged aloud, with Ramshackle Dorm getting cleaned up between the Prologue and Book 5 (presumably because of the prefect and Grim working to earn their food and clothes etc.)

An argument against this theory might be Grim's line about not being a part of janitorial staff anymore in Book 2, but while novel-Grim is also no longer janitorial staff by Book 2, he is still helping with repairs, so this comment might not be applicable.

As you say, Mostro Lounge (and the school store) would probably not be as successful if they were competing with free cafeteria food, so it is possible that the other students at the school are also following the system that the prefect uses (free lodging only).

This would explain why Ruggie does things like wear Leona's clothes and eat wild plants: it is possible that he showed up without any money at all and is making things work day to day, exactly like the prefect.

Also as you point out, Crowley will occasionally threaten the prefect and Grim with how they're racking up expenses that he has never agreed to cover.

This might mean that game-prefect is living at least partially on credit, charging expenses to Crowley or the school? (Which is something we know the school store can do, at least, based on Azul charging costs for cleanup of a mess made by Jack to Leona.)

On the subject of tuition, it has also never technically been officially confirmed or disproved that scholarships or tuition are things that exist! I have seen comments that NRC is likely a private school that operates on donations and does not charge tuition, and Crowley does mention receiving donations from parents, but I do not think this has ever been stated outright in the game (or novels) and may just be conjecture at this time.

To answer the initial question: Maybe! :>

We know Novel-MC has money that they are receiving from somewhere, presumably Crowley.

And we know Game-MC is also receiving money from Crowley, but whether the cash they are being given is only for field trips or is something they are earning through repairs to Ramshackle is unconfirmed.

It is possibly one of the many things that the game is intentionally keeping vague!

(Also, I have received your follow-up question and am still hunting for info! :> Hope to answer soon!)

#twstask #twisted wonderland

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