#not wrting

[saltysupercomputer]

Manchmal, wenn ich in der Öffentlichkeit filme, werden andere Leute auf die Kamera aufmerksam. Das führt manchmal zu ein paar sehr lustigen Kommentaren von besagten Mitmenschen. Hier sind meine Favoriten:

"Seid ihr vom KiKa?"

"Seid ihr vom ARD? Ich gucke jeden Abend die Tagessschau."

Ein Vater, zu seinem kleinen Kind: "Geh da mal nicht hin. Die sind von RTL."

"Oh mein Gott! Seid ihr (von) TikTok? Könnt ihr mich interviewen?"

Als wir eine Szene gedreht haben, in der einer unserer Schauspieler drei Stunden lang auf dem Boden liegen musste: "Ist das da vorne eine Leiche?"

[saltysupercomputer]

Left side

I'm right handed

I primarily use the Latin alphabet

I need your help with a hypothesis!

For context: My linguistics professor and I got into a discussion after a test she did with us, and I was of the opinion that the reason for the results was different from the one she offered, so she encouraged me to test my theory.

What I need

All you need to do is draw a coffee cup (with a handle, not the disposable stuff) and then answer three questions.

I don't need to see the coffee cup. You can draw it wherever you like; on a piece of paper, digitally, in the sand, on a foggy window. Anything works. It does not have to be good. A doodle is fine.

You have to draw the coffee cup before you see the questions. This is very important. If you decide to help me with this, please doodle the coffee cup before you keep reading.

Assuming you have drawn the coffee cup, I now need you to answer these three questions:

On which side did you draw the handle?

Are you right-handed or left-handed?

Do you primarily write using the Latin alphabet or a different one? (please specify which)

More context

Most people will draw the handle on the right side. My professor says it's because most people are right-handed, so they draw the handle in the direction that would be comfortable for them to pick up.

I said drawing it on the right side just felt more comfortable to my hand and argued it's probably because we write a bunch of letters like that. B, b, D, P, p, R all look like a tiny "handle on the right side" and are all a straight line followed by a round one (so "cup first, handle second," like most people draw cups). The Latin alphabet doesn't have letters like that that face the other way, except maybe d, depending on how you write it, so it makes sense to me that people writing mostly Latin letters would go with the handle on the right side.

Which means that I need to know what Asians, Arabs and Greeks do and if the distribution of left and right sides of handles differs from the Latin alphabet group. Cyrillic seems to favor right, too, though it'd be interesting to see if there are differences.

If there are, my theory is right. Doubly so if there is a sizeable increase in a group whose alphabet has letters that benefit the left side choice.

So feel free to spread this to as many people as you like and put the answers in the comments or the tags of a reblog. The more answers I get, the better I can assess whose theory is better.

Thank you for your help!

[cosmo-lexies]

I: It's my last free week.

My body: oh the perfect moment to be sick

[luna-azzurra]

Quick Tips for Writing Emotional Tension

They act like they don’t care, but we all know they’re just avoiding a massive emotional explosion.

One of them starts to spill their feelings, then clams up like, “Uh, never mind…” Cue the frustration.

One character throws out something super personal like it’s no big deal, but you can tell the other one’s like, “Wait, what?”

They let something slip that they were totally not ready to share, and then they freeze like, “Did I just say that?”

The “I’m fine” smile (but they’re not). One gives this shaky smile that doesn’t fool anyone, especially the other character.

They almost grab each other’s hand or hug, then they hesitate, and the moment passes. UGH, so frustrating!

One of them’s on the verge of tears but is trying sooo hard not to lose it. You can feel how much it hurts.

They talk about literally everything except the thing that’s actually bothering them. So. Annoying.

They used to be shoulder to shoulder, but now they’re standing a whole three feet apart like something big changed.

One’s suddenly acting like they barely know the other, being all polite and formal, and you just know there’s more going on.

[kindrasy]

may the person reading this (you 🫵) finish their draft this year

[cantsleephomesick]

im in a constant state of trying to calm down

HEARTBREAK AND SLEEPLESS NIGHTS OUT NOW!

[venqzciii]

pervy massager Satoru! Who from the moment he sees you, decides you're not just any client-no, you're the one he has to make his.With a charming smile and that confident, slightly mischievous gleam in his eyes, he welcomes you to your first session, his goal set on making sure you're hooked from the start.

pervy massager Satoru! Who restrains himself during that first appointment, carefully toeing the line between professional and a touch too friendly. His hands are firm but gentle, moving with an attentiveness that's almost unnerving, as though he's studying every reaction you give. He wants everything about this first experience to be flawless, each touch perfectly calibrated, so there's no question in your mind about returning.

pervy massager Satoru! Who, as the session wraps up, leans in with a warm smile and mentions, "For your next appointment, I'll give you a discount. Consider it a welcome gift-just to show you how much l'd love to help you relax again." His words are smooth, laced with subtle intent, a promise hanging in the air that there's more waiting for you if you come back.

pervy massager Satoru! Who grins when he sees you've come back, knowing he did his job perfectly during your first visit. He can barely hide his excitement as he welcomes you in, his eyes roaming over you with a subtle hunger as he leads you to the massage table.

pervy massager Satoru! Who makes a point to hover close as you get comfortable, his fingers brushing your thighs as he drapes the towel over you. He gives you that same smooth, practiced smile and asks if there's any area you'd like "special attention" on today.

pervy massager Satoru! Who starts off innocently enough, his hands working over your shoulders and upper back with a slow, rhythmic pressure, almost too good at coaxing the tension out of you. He makes a few small, innocuous comments, something about how much you must need this, his voice low, as if there's no one else in the world he'd rather be focused on right now.

pervy massager Satoru! Who lets his hands wander further down your back with each pass, kneading deeper as he edges closer to your hips. His fingers slip just a bit under the edge of the towel, his fingers grazing your skin with a softness that sends a shiver through you. And then, as he shifts down toward your lower back, the towel "accidentally" slides lower, exposing the top curve of your ass.

pervy massager Satoru! Who takes his time with your hips, pressing his fingers into the sensitive spots at the base of your spine, his thumbs grazing the dip of your back. He lets the towel slide lower, bit by bit, inching down as his hands work over the full length of your lower body, a soft hum of approval slipping from his lips as he sees more of your ass.

pervy massager Satoru! Who swallows hard, his breathing hitching slightly when he felt his cock rising, struggling to keep himself in check. But with each touch, each brush of his fingers over your skin, he's only getting more worked up.

pervy massager Satoru! Who can't resist a small, almost imperceptible shift of his hips, positioning himself a little closer as he lets his cock press against the edge of the table.

pervy massager Satoru! Who, with his heart pounding and his self-control wearing thin, decides he's taken things far enough for today.As much as he's tempted to push just a little further, he knows he has to play the long game if he wants to keep you coming back, hooked on his touch and his subtle advances.

pervy massager Satoru! Who smoothly finishes up, giving your shoulders a final, reassuring pat, his touch lingering just a bit too long as he tells you, "You're all set. I'd love to see you again soon." His voice is warm, almost affectionate, but there's an edge of something more beneath it.

pervy massager Satoru! Who, as you're getting ready to leave, casually leans in and says, "You know, just for being such a great client, l'll give you a discount next time too." He flashes you a charming smile, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief, making it clear that he'd go out of his way to make sure you're back on his table.

pervy massager Satoru! Who watches you walk out with a satisfied smirk, already planning how he'll turn up the charm in your next session, wanting you to crave his touch as much as he craves having you under his hands.

part 2

© venqzciii : do not translate, plagiarise or steal my work.

[simplysanders]

Play bugsnax in 2024

[greeniegirl23]

Alastor As A Father (Son Version)

- 10 hours. You had been in labor for the second time in your life and it lasted 10 fucking hours...

-As the doctors tended to your newborn son, you quickly grabbed Alastor by his throat and growled in his ear. "If you ever put me in this position again I promise I'll throw you out of the hotel so the Angels can erase you during the next extermination!! Are we clear?!"

He gulped, dangerously aware of your seriousness. "Crystal.."

- Back to your newborn. He was similar to his sister when she was a baby. Your son wasn't a crybaby., not even in the slightest. Only whimpering or whining when he wanted something. It took a lot to make him actually cry and when he did you both knew he was hurt or you'd probably have to kill somebody.

- This time around, Alastor had decided to step up his parenting game and started doing some research. Starting out with some baby books that Charlie lent him from her Dad. He became very invested in your child's development and even tried to convince you that your daughter might have been a 'slow' baby in her toddler years.

"Al, for the hundredth time our daughter turned out fine!" You groaned, rinsing off a plate and handing it too him to dry. "You can't believe everything those books say, especially when they're so.. statistic based."

Alastor huffed. "Darling, according to the book she should have started walking earlier than when she did. Assuming that it's true, I don't want the same for our boy. They will have to protect each other when we're no longer around. Which means he's going to have to be a strapping young gentleman and there's no better time to start than now."

- Unfortunately, this started a somewhat heated argument between you. Alastor was frustrated that you couldn't see how important it was to get an early start, while you were pissed at the fact that he thought your very intelligent, very capable 13 year old was slow and that he was putting too much pressure on your 4 month old who still enjoyed chewing on his own feet.

- As much as you fought for him to understand your point, Alastor became an immovable boulder and you were too dull of an axe to crack him open.

- This stressed you out for two reasons. One, the potential for your son to grow up underneath insane amounts of pressure at such a young age was high. Two, you knew Alastor would sneak behind your back to mold this boy into who he believed he should be and unfortunately, there wasn't much you could do about it.

- You had to trust that in time Alastor would learn from mistakes he made. Until he did though, you promised to be there emotionally for your son and to stop your husband from going too far.

-As your boy grew, the fears you had for him began to come to light. Alastor was just as harsh as an old master. Despite your son's grades, physical strength, and domestic skills for a boy, it still was never enough for his father. It was bad enough the point where your son exclaimed that he hated his father.

"He's never happy with me!" Your now six-year-old child cried in your chest after another incident of Alastor's cold hearted nature. "I drew a picture of him today in class, got all A's on my assignments and he just brushed it off! I don't understand.." He sniffled. "Did I..-Did I do something bad?"

"Of course not Sweetie," You said, trying to comfort him. He's tears soaked your shirt as you tried to come up with a plan to put a stop to this madness.

"Then why doesn't he love me..?"

- The sharp pang in your heart that you felt in that moment brought you and your husband back to a pretty foul argument that went unfinished years prior. Giving that man a piece of your mind once again felt good and this time he was going to listen regardless of if he wanted to or not. How dare he make your child feel that way?! Much less make him cry!

"The boy is too sensitive." Alastor groaned, flipping through his news paper. "He's crying over absolute nonsense."

"He's been crying because you've been on his ass like white on rice since he was three months old!" You exclaimed. "All he's trying to do is impress you but you shoot him down and strap him with more work and expectations. He's six, Alastor!"

Alastor growled. "If he's so obsessed with feelings like love and acceptance, then clearly I'm failing at my job as a parent. Do you think the people of Hell care about utter gutter trash like that? I'm making him strong so can protect himself and his sister, to protect you if I should meet my second demise. Why don't you seem to understand that?!"

Sadness took over your features as you realized that Alastor had blinded himself by his own worries. "Your job as a parent is to feed them, cloth them, give them shelter, and to be there for them. That counts being there emotionally!"

Finally Alastor had enough, "He'll be fine, this conversation is over." He grumbled, preparing to walk off to dismiss you again.

"No, it's not!" You yelled, getting right in his face to show you weren't backing down. You knew he'd never lay a hand on you or anything of the sort, but the tensions were high and you needed his full acknowledgement.

"Our jobs as parents are to protect our children, but your so worried about preparing them for this godforsaken place until you can't even save your son from yourself!" You backed away for a second, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.

"Do you realize what he could become from your neglect? He could be the next fuckin' Jeffery Dahmer or Ted Bundy all because of your efforts to make him "strong"." You sighed, shaking your head in confusion and disappointment as your eyes grew glossy. "Alastor you weren't ever like this with our daughter. Sure you were a bit overprotective of her but you still allowed her to be a child. So why do things have to be different for our son?.."

- Alastor looked at you for what seemed like an eternity. The moment lasts so long as your tongue grows thick in your mouth. With an angry huff after what seems like forever, he just, walked right by you. Grabbing his tail coat and heading out the door.

- To say you were shocked was an understatement. Immediately you fell to your knees and started to cry. Weeping for yourself, for your son, because your husband was too damn stubborn sometimes, and because you weren't strong enough to stop him.

- You came to the conclusion that you needed some space. Quickly you gathered your children and their belongings, made a call, and went back to the place where it all started.

- Charlie welcomed you with open arms, happy to see you once again and offering you a shoulder to cry on if needed.

-You took her up on that offer, as well as Vaggie while the other patrons enjoyed the company of your kids. Angel Dust even recommended a shopping day with everyone, for old times sake. Your daughter agreed happily in her monotoned voice while your baby boy seemed quiet.

- As you ran back the events of the night to your friends, they both seemed equally as concerned as you were for your son's well-being.

-Speaking of which. You hadn't seen or heard from him in a while now. Last you checked, he had gone in the kitchen to get a drink. You asked if anyone had seen him since, only to get a sound of reverberating "No's"

- You panicked. Running to the kitchen only to find the window open and one of the knives on the counter was missing. A note hung on the curtain, quickly you read it.

"Daddy made me cry and he made you cry too. I think it's his turn to cry now. I'm sorry Mama.."

A disturbing chill crawled quickly up your spine as you ran back out into the lobby screaming in fear.

-You gave Husker the note as Charlie demanded the car to be brought around so you could stop your son's psychotic break.

"Don't you think we're overreacting a bit? He's six and like 4'3 he can't have gotten far." The grumpy cat said.

"This is Alastor's kid we're talking about, do you really think he's your typical elementary school boy? She sliced someone's arm off when she was eight!" Vaggie exclaimed, referring to your daughter who was now trying to console you.

"Our Dad was gone before we left home, maybe he's not back yet?" She inquired hopefully.

"Sweetie, I didn't tell him we were leaving. If he's gone out he always comes back around 10:30 to say good night to you and your brother. It's 11:00, so I'm sure he's home by now."

-As you, Charlie, Vaggie, and Husker hopped in the car to speed off to your home. You couldn't help but pray to God that something would stop your son from going through with something so cruel.

- Alastor sighed as he walked back into his home. It was wrong for him to talk out like that and his reprimand from Rosie was finally what helped him understand that.

-He was ready to apologize to you and to his son. Expecting you to appreciate his change of heart and maybe even earn his son's forgiveness.

-What he didn't expect, was an empty house. Nor the note on the fridge explaining where you were. It has a few tear stains on it and he cursed himself for making you cry. As he read it, part of him wanted to go to the hotel and apologize to you there. The other part of him realized he had pushed you away too far and maybe, just maybe you needed some time alone to reel in your thoughts.

- Slowly, he made his way up the stairs into your shared bedroom. Smelling like whiskey and feeling slightly depressed. His smile was maintained of course, though it was small and forced to whoever might see it.

- He flopped into bed. Rather ungracefully but he didn't care, there was no one around. No one to scold him or ask him if he had a hard day.

- The house creaked as the night wind blew through his window. His face was stuffed in a pillow as he smelled the faint scent of your shampoo. Flowery, like his Mother used to wear.

-She was always there for him. Kind of like you were always there for your family as well. Both him and your children looked to you for inspiration, love, and affection. Which made him feel even worse for putting you in such a position earlier. Here you are, giving him children, making time for them and him, while also trying to make time for yourself. Fighting against your own husband just so he could see what was important to you, only for him to brush it all off in a hissy fit because he couldn't handle being told he was doing a bad job at being a good father.

-Now, when you asked him about this at a later time. He told you he's unsure of how it happened. He can't remember if he was so wrapped up in his thoughts to the point he wasn't aware of his surroundings, or if your son may be part snake instead of part deer.

-But what he does remember is turning on his back just in time to stop the butcher knife from impaling him straight through the heart. How the hell this person got into the house and into his bedroom without making a sound is something Alastor would never know.

-Whoever the hell had lost their mind to do such a thing was about to become a stain on the wall because if their was one thing for certain and two things for sure Alastor wasn't in the fucking mood until he realized the familiar figure in the darkness was his own flesh and blood.

-His son. His own son was straddling his waist, struggling against his Dad's 137 year old strength at just six and a half years of existence. Alastor didn't understand what was going on, why was he doing this and where were you?!

"What are you doing?!" Alastor yelled. Trying to figure out what on earth was happening.

The boy stayed silent and screamed out something close to a war cry as he used his entire body weight to push the knife closer to Alastor's chest.

"I'm talking to you boy and you'd better answer me this instant!"

"Shut UP!" He shouted. "You don't get to talk to me! Not after what you did earlier today!"

Alastor's heart stopped a bit after he realized that his son had overheard the argument between the two of you.

"That was a misunderstanding! Your mother and I may have exchanged words but everything will be alright, now put the knife down!"

The child growled something feral. "It's not going to be okay, things between us were never okay! From the moment I started training under you, you've been nothing but a big bully. I'd go crying to Mom when you weren't around because all you ever saw me for was worthless! You never loved me and I was willing to accept that because Mom promised me that you'd change in time, but after today I don't believe that anymore!"

With a swift move, the boy had broken the arm lock he was in and lifted the knife over his head to plunge into the man he called Father. Tears weld in his eyes as he swung forward, his pupils changed similar to Alastor's and his voice became distorted with anger and malice. For the first time, Alastor swore he knew how his victims felt as his own smile grinned mercilessly back at him.

"YOu MaDE my MoTHeR CrY AnD FOR thAT, I'LL mAKE SuRE YoU NEvEr MaKE EIthER oF US cRY AgAIN!!"

- It was like a switch in his head had been flicked on. Alastor watched as his son swung his blade forward in slow motion. Memories of himself and what he had done to his own father came whirling back.

- The past seemed to have repeated itself. What a sick and twisted universe. He remembered the arguments between his parents. The sounds of glass shattering and his mother's begging for the pain to stop. He remembered peaking into her room to see her covering her face with makeup to hide the bruses. The fake smiles she'd give him in the morning while she cleaned up the mess from the night before. The deep silence between him and his Dad when he stabbed him to death in the very same way. He tried to hide the body on his own, he didn't want mother to be mad at him or find out. But she did and may have indirectly set his path down a dark road by justifying his actions at 14 years of age.

"Murder ain't good Alastor," She said, sitting him on her lap as she rocked with him in her rocking chair. Her sweet Southern drawl was like music to his ears. "You shouldn't have killed that man, n' I won't try to pretend what you did was right."

"Yes ma'am..." He replied sadly, on the verge of tears until she spoke again.

"Listen Allie. Anyone who kills another person, just for the sake of making someone else smile, is alright with me. I know the only reason you did what you did, is because you felt like you had to and you couldn't stand to see me gettin hurt no more." she sighed. "I just wish I was strong enough to leave when I had the chance, n maybe' you're lil would have stayed clean from the blood of my mistakes.."

"M'Sorry Mama.."

She smiled. "No Baby, I'm sorry. For makin' you live through that when you shouldn't have. My sins are now yours to bare. N' sadly there ain't much I can do to fix that." Fixing his glasses on his face, she gave him a hug and kissed his forehead. "Promise me you'll stay strong Alastor, bare these sins with a smile and don't add on to them unless you absolutely have to."

"I promise." He replied. Swearing silently to make her proud and for her to keep smiling, no matter what.

-Everything made sense now. Truly it did. Why you were so concerned. How he became so blind. What he buried deep within and how he manifested into the situation he was in now.

-But unlike his father, Alastor had a choice and a chance to do better before it was too late. Quickly, the Radio Demon sat up and snatched the knife out of his son's grip mid swipe. The blade clattered to the ground and gave his child the loving embrace he so desperately needed.

"I'm sorry." He said with sincerity. "I should have never made your Mother cry, nor should I have ever made you feel less than appreciated. I am proud of what you've done, who you've become, and who you're going to be."

He felt the small body go rigid. Freezing in confusion as his Dad actually told him how he felt for once. Alastor continued. " I'm sorry for making you think I never loved you. In fact, I love you so much that I wanted you to be perfect. To be strong, to protect your sister, and your mother when I'm not here anymore. But I put far too much on you too soon, which was unfair to you in a number of ways. I only wanted the best for you, but I couldn't see that I was harming you in the process and I never, ever wanted that..."

Pulling away from his son, one of the biggest pride and joys he had down in this disgusting cesspool. He wiped the child's tears away and gave him a genuine smile.

"You are my son and I love you, I apologize that it took me so long to say it, but it is true. I'm proud of you for being willing to protect your mother, even from me. I had to do the same thing around your age to the man that would have been your grandpa, but he was terrible to us and deserved to be slaughtered. You're already further ahead than I am, so please. Forgive me and I promise our relationship from here on will be much, much different than what it's been."

- Alastor watched as his son hiccuped and sobbed. Nodding his head and mumbling out a meek "Okay.." He dove in for another hug and Alastor allowed him to stay there and cry tears of relief for as long as he needed to.

- Not too long afterwards, you came barreling into the house and raced up stairs. Calling Alastor's name and for your son until you literally kicked down the door to your bedroom, stopping at what you found and thanking God for hearing your prayers.

-The others came after you in a frenzy but quickly let out breathes of relief at the sight of your smile. Quietly you 'shhhed' them and stepped aside to see the same beautiful sight you did.

-There on your king sized bed, sat your husband and his son. Alastor was propped upwards against the headboard, using pillows to support is back while his head was supported by your son. The six year old was snuggled up against his father's chest, sleeping soundly underneath his throat while Alastor's arms seemed to form a somewhat protective cage around him.

- Smiling happily, you closed the door to the room and headed downstairs with everyone else. Heading back to the hotel and leaving a note for Alastor in the morning that encouraged him to catch up on lost time with your second-born. Satisfied that their bond was finally forming into something beautiful.

(Wow, I did not plan to get as invested in this as I did. I just let the story flow and got this, honestly I love it and would like to see some of my theories between Alastor and his Mom come to fruition. Anyways, I'll see y'all in the next post! Don't forget to comment something you might want to see me write next :D P.S Why the fuck did I post this without editing it..?)

[toxicmalysh]

The link we share

Chapter 28: movie night

Word count: 3,592

Summary: you and Wanda get slightly distracted whilst watching a movie

Content warning: smutty smut guys, fingering (r receiving), finger sucking, choking, cunnilingus (r and w receiving) I am forcing myself through this writers block

⋆✧✦���⋆

Wanda snuggled against you, feeling warm and content as you draped an arm around her shoulder.

She relaxed completely, her body practically melting against you.

You both watched the sitcom Wanda had picked out and she had a soft smile on her face, stealing glances at you every now and then.

She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this comfortable and happy. Having you here, watching her comfort show with her, it felt right. It felt like... home.

You listened as Wanda let out a soft sigh. You were fiddling with her fingers and she couldn't help but squirm slightly, your touch sending tingles down her spine.

She glanced down at you, a small smile playing on her lips.

“You know, you're very distracting.”

You looked up giggling to yourself as you placed a delicate kiss on her cheek.

You both sat on her bed together, your eyes becoming heavy.

It was only twenty minutes into the second episode when you fell asleep, your head resting comfortably against Wanda's arm.

Gently, as to not wake you, she shifted slightly, pulling the blankets up over you both and settling in by holding you in her side.

Wanda watched you sleep for a few moments, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Your peaceful expression made her heart ache with affection. She reached out slowly, gently moving a strand of hair off your forehead, her touch feather-light.

As you stirred slowly, your eyes adjusted to the low light watching as Wanda glanced up to you from her phone. You smiled softly and she immediately placed her phone in her pocket before gently shaking your shoulder.

“Hey sleepy head. You're awake.”

You smiled up at the older woman, blushing slightly as your brain remembered just how pretty she was.

“You okay?”

Your voice was horse from just waking up but Wanda found it adorable.

“Yeah I'm okay. Just couldn't sleep. Thought I'd keep myself occupied a bit.”

She looked at you apologetically, feeling slightly guilty for waking you.

“Sorry I didn't mean to wake you.”

You smiled softly still, sitting up a little bit more whilst tucking yourself back into her side. Your breathing synced as you listened to her heart beat, feeling the way her chest rose and fell.

“You didn't wake me, you're okay.”

Wanda let out a small sigh of relief, reassured by your words. She shifted a bit, pulling your head deeper into her chest.

“Are you sure? You looked like you were sleeping so peacefully.”

You giggled to yourself softly, moving your head as if you were trying to look at her for a moment,

“Just dreaming of you.”

Wanda's heart skipped a beat at your words, her cheeks flushing slightly. She looked down at you, her hand weaving its way into your hair.

“You.. dream about me?”

It was odd how insecure and soft Wanda was with you, with everyone else she was shut off and cool about her emotions, either presenting as quiet and grumpy, or cruel and snappy. With you she was so vulnerable and sensitive.

You smiled, furrowing your eyebrows slightly,

“Of course.”

The taller woman's chest fluttered. It was such a simple thing but it made her feel special, wanted…

“Really?”

You nodded softly as the shy word fell from her lips,

“Yeah.”

Your response was as quiet as hers, the atmosphere peaceful, the only light coming from the TV, lighting Wanda's face softly.

She moved closer to you, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm as she spoke.

“What do you dream about exactly? What are these dreams with me in them?”

You hummed softly shrugging as you thought,

“Sometimes they're us together.. like this, maybe on a date, eating together, other times…”

Wanda let out a small laugh, her heart rate quickening. She had a feeling she knew what you meant but she couldn't help but tease.

“Other times…?”

You smiled shyly, dropping your face back to her lap as you laughed.

“I think you know.”

Wanda smirked to herself. She moved apart slightly from you.

“I have my guesses. But I want to hear it from you.”

She watched as you blushed, her tone was sly, and you felt your heart rate pick up. You shook your head.

Wanda's eyes widened slightly as your cheeks turned red. She was surprised by your reticence, but it only made her more curious.

“Aww, why are you suddenly getting shy? You're the one who brought it up, you can't just leave me hanging malysh.”

She chuckled softly, feeling you bury your face in her neck. She could practically feel the heat radiating off your flushed face. She wrapped her arms around you, her fingers gently running through your hair.

“Come on, you can't just hide. Tell me what these dreams are.”

Your words were muffled as your mouth pressed against her shoulder.

“Just… Us being… Us.”

Your heart thumped louder in your chest as Wanda echoed you.

“Us… being us…”

Her fingers traced slow soothing circles on your back. She knew there was more to it, but she couldn't help but tease you a bit.

“And what exactly does “us being us” entail, hm?”

You stayed hiding in her shoulder, your headspace became shy and hazy.

“You know what, I forgot.”

Wanda let out a soft, affectionate chuckle at your stubbornness. She gently stroked your hair, amused by your attempt to hide.

“Oh, really? You forgot, huh? I have a feeling you remember, you just don't want to say.”

You let out a huff, holding onto her arm tightly.

Wanda knew she was getting under your skin. She loved this playful, shy side of you, it was endearing. She continued to speak softly, her fingers slowly tracing up and down your back.

“Oh Detka… it's just me. You can tell me anything, you know I won't judge you, no matter what it is.”

She felt your silence in her neck, and it only made her more determined to get you to open up. She knew from your light smile, you were enjoying this teasing as much as she was, even if you wouldn't admit it.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?”

You nodded, feeling warm as you felt Wanda's chest rise and fall rapidly as she let out a laugh. She continued to play with your hair, her fingers tingling in the soft strands.

“You're being rather naughty aren't you?”

Your body shivered as she teased you, her lips hovering over your ear.

Your shiver didn't go unnoticed, Wanda's lips twitching into a smile. She had noticed over the last few months now, how when she spoke in a certain tone of voice or said certain words, you'd react in various ways. She felt like teasing you tonight.

“Is my voice really that effective, malysh?”

She felt a thrill of satisfaction run through her, enjoying the more dominance she held over you.

Your lip fell between your teeth. Wanda loved seeing you like this, she took a chance to move back closer to you, leaning over you slightly.

“You know, you can't keep hiding. Be a good girl and tell me what you dream about.”

Wanda looked up at you, with a hint of surprise in her eyes as you sat up. She didn't expect you to give in so quickly, but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

“Oh? So, you're done hiding? You're ready to spill your little secret now?”

You smiled up at her your blush heating your face up,

“There's nothing to tell.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

“Oh, is that so? You're just going to play it off like nothing?”

She moved back, shifted to her side, resting her head on her hand as she looked up at you.

“Come on, I think we both know you want to tell me. You're just being stubborn.”

Wanda watched as your eyes darted towards her lips, and she felt a stirring in her chest. She noticed the way you were biting your lip. She leaned in a bit closer to you sitting back up slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“What are you looking at darling?”

Her smirk widened as your eyes snapped back up to hers, your lip still caught between your teeth. She couldn't help but find it adorable, how flustered you were getting just from looking at her lips.

“You know, you keep biting your lip like that… it's quite distracting.”

You huffed pouting softly, once again Wanda let out a soft laugh. You watched as she reached out a hand gently tugging at your bottom lip with her thumb, pulling it free from your teeth. You felt a spark of electricity where her hand was resting on your jaw. You felt the urge to open your mouth but kept it closed.

“Aww, is someone pouting now?”

Wanda noticed the way you reacted to her touch and it encouraged her. She continued to toy with your lip, running her thumb over it gently.

“You're so easy to melt. Just a few touches and words, and you're practically a puddle. I like it.”

Your eyes closed softly as you felt her thumb press harder against your lip, you raised your head slightly. A surge of heat made its way into Wanda's gut, at your action, it was such a vulnerable gesture. It made her heart race.

“Look at you, so responsive to my touch. So obedient.”

You hummed in response, completely relaxing into her touch. She ran her fingers through your hair, gently scratching at your scalp, her fingers soothing and rhythmic

“You're so cute you know that?”

You nodded your eyes finding her lips again, you felt hot, needy.

Wanda moved herself, placing delicate kisses to your neck, your eyes fluttering shut as you let out a swallow breath.

She smirked as you let out a small gasp at one particular spot on your neck, she proceeded to kiss and nibble at the skin, wanting to wind you up the best she could.

There was something about the way Wanda could switch from being a caring sweet girlfriend, to a possessive and controlling woman that drives you crazy.

Wanda's lips came back up to yours, and you matched her intensiting, softly grinding your hips down, impatient for friction.

The older woman guided you backwards to lay down, her lips never leaving yours.

Your back arched slightly as you shivered, Wanda's tongue parting your lips as she began tasting your tongue. She wanted to savour every bit of you, to memorise every taste and texture. Her hips rolled against yours creating pressure between you.

As you groaned out in response Wanda took that as encouragement, grinding down more purposely, she wanted to hear more of those sounds, wanted to see how undone she could make you.

She sat back slightly,

“What do you want malysh? Use those pretty words.”

You groaned in desperation, it was humiliating to say it out loud and you knew that's exactly why she asked.

“I want you.”

Your tone was blunt, brattish. Wanda smirked in amusement, happy to finally be pushing your buttons. She moved so her thigh was pressing against your core, she could feel the heat radiating off of you and chuckled lowly to herself.

“You have me.. but what do you want from me?”

You closed your eyes, biting your lip softly whilst you moved your hips softly against Wanda's thigh, moaning quietly at the relief of friction. Your arms came to warp around Wanda's neck, trying to bring her to your lips, but she resisted.

“Answer my question detka.”

You ignored her grinding harder against her. Wanda's eyebrow raised in annoyance, moving her thigh from your heat, causing you to whine in protest.

“Don't be a brat.. I asked you a question.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing slightly. However, your laughter was cut off immediately as Wanda's hand wrapped itself around your throat.

“Fuck.”

Your tone was surprised but also, lustful.

“Language, darling. I expect better from my good girl.”

Your eyes shut softly, reveling in the new feeling of pressure against your larynx.

“No, no open your eyes, look at me when I'm talking to you.”

You hesitantly opened your eyes meeting Wanda's dark ones. You gulped, embarrassed as you knew Wanda could feel it.

It was obvious, Wanda wanted to explore this dominant side of herself more, and you were more than happy to oblige, you yourself hadn't experimented enough to know what you might like, and everything so far had been more than good.

“I don't like brats, when I ask you a question you answer, do you understand?”

Your face heated up from her tone of voice, and you nodded softly, she squinted her eyes slowly,

“Use. Your words.”

She spoke with intent, her hand gripping round your neck tighter.

“I understand.”

Wanda nodded with pride, before resuming,

“Now, what does my pretty girl want, hm?”

You felt embarrassed, but also a flicker of heat pulse through you, Wanda knew what you wanted, she just wanted you to say it and it was killing you.

“I want you…”

You took a breath, closing your eyes softly as you began grinding your hips upwards to her thigh again.

“I want you to be rough, I want you to take what you want, it doesn't matter what I want just use me.”

Your voice was a whimper, a mix between a submission and a plea.

Wanda's eyes darkened, her face flushing red at your words. God that was exactly what she wanted to hear.

You felt warm fingertips at your hips, prying lightly at the bottom of your shirt. You laughed softly as Wanda pulled it hesitantly. You nodded and she smiled, moving much more confidently to free you from the top.

You lowered your arms, your instincts telling you to cover yourself but instead you brought your hands back up to Wanda's shoulders.

Her eyes were fixed on your breasts, as she lowered her mouth to your right nipple. You gasped at the sudden wetness, you could feel your clit begin to throb at the sudden stimulation on your torso.

Her left hand moved to toy with your nipple, her tongue administrating firm, slow circles.

Your hand found her hair softly, scratching her scalp as Wanda took her time tasting your skin. You let out a slight moan as her teeth clamped around your hardened nipple.

“Oh you like that?”

Her tone was condescending as her left hand pinched your other nipples harshly, causing a similar sound to leave your mouth.

Her mouth found your left nipple, biting and sucking softly, and you moaned louder from the build up of aching in your core.

“Please.”

Your tone was desperate, and Wanda would usually praise you for begging so nicely, but right now she needed to teach you patience.

“Good girls know how to wait for what they want.”

You nodded quickly, licking your bottom lip before relaxing again.

Her hands came up to your waistband, her eyes flicking up as her mouth remained sucking your sensitive skin. You hummed softly and watched as Wanda pulled your joggers and underwear down together.

She hovered her face over yours, searching your eyes for any reaction as she slipped her right index finger through your soaked folds.

“Oh you're so wet.”

Her words were more of a moan than a statement. You hid your face in the crook of her neck as she pressed her index and middle finger against your folds. She teased you, sliding in till her first knuckle before bringing her fingers to her mouth. You watched as she opened her mouth, her eyes fixated on her digits. Your gut tightened at the display, but then her gaze moved to yours, she watched you with dangerous eyes as she brought her fingers to your mouth. You could smell yourself, a sweet metallic scent, you sneered slightly as Wanda spoke.

“Open.”

It was one simple command, and you obliged, your eyes looking up at hers. You wrapped your lips around the tip of her fingers.

“Suck.”

You closed your eyes, your tongue wrapping around her skin as your cheeks hallowed, and you sucked eagerly.

Wanda watched you, her own arousal pooling in her panties. You were so compliant, so needy and desperate to be good.

“Such a pretty mouth you have.”

You hummed against her fingers, and she removed them slowly, admiring the thin layer of salvia coating her skin.

She brought her mouth to your jaw, sucking at your skin softly. You were losing your patience, your body covered in goosebumps.

You moaned softly as you felt Wanda's warm fingers slide into your cunt.

“So wet for me malysh.”

Wanda repeated, curling her fingers gently causing you to moan louder.

Her fingers moved shyly at first, gently massaging the spongy area you needed stimulated.

“More..”

That one whimper, flipped something in Wanda, her hand came round to grip your throat once more, and her other hand continued thrusting into you, but they became firmer, and faster.

The pressure from Wanda's hand around your neck made you fuzzy, the pleasure in your tummy making you dizzy.

Your moans became incoherent as Wanda moved to admire her fingers sliding in and out of you.

Her eyes looked up, admiring how desperate you looked, your eyes squeezed shut, legs spread, wet swollen nipples, and her hand around your neck.

Your eyes rolled in your head as the sounds of your pussy filled the room,

“Sounds so fucking sweet.”

Wanda spoke breathlessly, gathering salvia in her mouth and letting it drip onto your clit.

The action made you groan, the sounds of her thrusts louder now from the added lubricant.

You felt your stomach tightening, your hands gripping tightly at Wanda's back. The older woman removed her hand from your neck, moving lower, her face meeting your swollen clit. Her breath against you made you shiver, and you whimpered as you felt her tongue kitten licking you.

The moan you let was near pornographic when she took your clit into her mouth, sucking softly.

Your hand found her hair, once again massaging her scalp.

Your legs tensed up as Wanda's fingers stopped thrusting and simply curled over and over against your sweet spot. She was lost in the feeling of your warm walls around her fingers. God what she wouldn't give to grip your hips and pound into you.

“Wands please.”

Wanda hummed against your clit, hearing her name fall off your tongue like that made her clit ache.

She stopped her motions,

“Malysh, I have an idea okay?”

You looked up at her dazed, slightly disappointed as your orgasm was ripped from you. You quirked an eyebrow, at the older woman.

“Do you trust me?”

You nodded firmly and without hesitation.

Wanda sat up on her knees, pulling her own joggers down, her eyes never leaving yours as she removed her underwear. She was trying to maintain her dominant persona, ignoring the insecurity bubbling in her gut, she'd never been this vulnerable in front of you before.

You smiled softly, completely in awe of the woman in front of you, you watched confused as she laid down, her knees propped up.

“Okay now malysh, I want you to turn around, and bring that pretty cunt here.”

You blushed hard, realising what Wanda wanted. You couldn't have been more excited.

You awkwardly scooted backwards above Wanda, both of you giggling as you tried to position yourself. Your cunt was dripping above Wanda's mouth, hers leaking below yours.

You were both needy, and impatient.

Wanda reached her hand up into your hair, pushing your head down harshly to her cunt, you wanted to savour the moment, but now you found yourself desperate licking and sucking at her core. This new taste was addictive, and you couldn't get enough of it.

“Oh fuck~”

You moaned against Wanda's wetness as you felt her warm tongue against your clit again.

This was going to be difficult to concentrate on.

Your hips rutted desperately against Wanda's face. The vibrations from her humming against you were only stimulating you further.

“Baby suck harder for me.”

Wanda was completely breathless, and as you wrapped your lips around her clit, her hand began pushing your head hard, bobbing your head up and down faster.

“Oh malysh that's so good… just like that.”

You moaned at the sound of her voice, god you want to hear that again.

You eagerly sucked at her, moving your head in the rhythm she had set you.

You could feel a rush of heat fall over you, your legs becoming weak,

“Hold it.”

Wanda's voice was high, nothing like you'd ever heard before. But you did as she said, tensing your thighs as you waited for her next words, focusing on licking her clit just as she showed you, her fingers still tight in your scalp.

You felt Wanda's thighs fall open loosely, her grip in your head tighter, forcing you down faster.

“Cum.. fuck cum for me detka.”

A few seconds after her words, Wanda's legs wrapped around your head and you felt your clit pulsate with extreme force, a tight red feeling in your body causing the coil in your stomach to snap and white pleasure ran through your body.

You collapsed onto Wandas, body, a light layer of sweat between you two as you both panted.

You took a minute to catch your breath before speaking softly.

“We're definitely doing that again.”

[xmairr]

[sarnai4]

Writing Tips: (Emotionally) Strong Characters

Don't be afraid to give them flaws (their strength can be how they overcome these)

Confidence + competence = reliability

Give them a reason to fight that's bigger than themselves

Push them to their limits, then beyond

If they break, consider how they respond (are they mean, reserved, neither, both?)

Don't be afraid to include support systems

[tahbhie]

How to Stay Motivated as a Writer.

I ran a poll to celebrate reaching 50 reblogs because you guys are amazing, and this topic won the poll.

(This is a bit lengthy, but I advise you to read to the very end. These are the kind of tips you rarely find without a fee, but for your amazing support so far, you get this from me for free.)

Let's dive in!

Before I became a writing coach, lack of motivation was something I battled with. Writing started to feel like a waste of my time, but whenever I stopped, I still found my way back somehow.

After a few more months of struggling and finding a clear routine that worked for me, I became a writing coach. Believe me when I say that it was such a commitment, and you'd never know until you get your first student.

I only knew how to stay motivated as an individual. After two students, I realized that motivation was also something they struggled with, and as their coach, it became my duty to offer solutions. In fact, nine out of ten writers struggle with this same problem, so I came up with the 'why and what' technique.

What is the 'why and what' technique?

This technique is a template to figure out the main reason a writer isn't motivated at the current time, which allows for the provision of tailored and personalized solutions to solve the specific problem. In other words: Understanding the why (the main reason for the lack of motivation at the time) to figure out the what (effective solution to solve the main reason).

Lack of motivation is pretty subjective and varies widely. Giving a particular piece of advice may work for some and not for others, which is why I ensured my technique benefits all.

I'll give examples of common reasons writers lack motivation for writing using the template. If you don't find any that relate to you, write it in the comments and get a personalized solution from me.

1. Lack of Inspiration

Why:

- Feeling uninspired by current projects.

- Overwhelmed by the vastness of ideas.

- Stuck in a creative rut.

What:

- Change your environment: Sometimes a new setting can spark creativity. Try writing in a different location, like a park or a café.

- Consume creative content: Read books, watch movies, or listen to music that inspires you.

- Engage in Free Writing: Set a timer for 10 minutes and write whatever comes to mind without worrying about structure or grammar.

- Take a step back: You are no less of a writer if you decide to take a break and watch other writers from afar. Personally, it's difficult to write when I'm not inspired. I find myself editing more than usual and, at times, discarding the piece I spent hours on. So for a little while, I only engaged online and learned other ways to improve my skills with the time on my hands.

2. Fear of Failure

Why:

- Worrying that your writing isn't good enough.

- Comparing yourself to other writers.

- Fear of negative feedback.

What:

- Set small goals: Break down your writing project into manageable tasks to avoid feeling overwhelmed.

- Seek constructive feedback: Share your work with trusted friends or writing groups who can provide supportive and constructive criticism.

- Celebrate small wins: Acknowledge and celebrate your progress, no matter how small. Always remember that our writing styles differ from one another, and that is what makes us unique as writers. 

3. Lack of Time

Why:

- Busy schedules and other commitments.

- Difficulty prioritizing writing.

What:

- Create a writing schedule: Dedicate specific times in your day or week for writing and stick to it.

- Use writing prompts: Short prompts can help you get started quickly and make the most of limited time.

- Eliminate distractions: Find a quiet space and turn off notifications to focus solely on writing.

- Create or join writing challenges: Activities like the 3-day writing challenge, writing a novel in 6 months, the 7-day character creation challenge, the fantasy writers challenge, etc., have specific guidelines tailored to helping writers stay motivated and at the same time productive in limited times.

4. Perfectionism

Why:

- Striving for perfection in every sentence.

- Reluctance to move forward until everything is perfect.

What:

- Embrace the draft: Accept that your first draft doesn't have to be perfect. Focus on getting your ideas down first.

- Set time limits: Give yourself a set amount of time to write and then move on, even if it's not perfect.

- Practice self-compassion: Remind yourself that it's okay to make mistakes and that writing is a process.

-Listen to writing podcasts or join a valuable writing newsletter: You will learn more about the writing industry and writing processes of other established writers, their wins, struggles, difficulties, appreciations, etc., which can serve as an assurance that you are facing the processes of a typical writer. 

Here's a podcast and newsletter for writers I totally recommend—The Shit No One Tells You About Writing. You can listen to The Shit No One Tells You About Writing on platforms like Apple Podcasts and Spotify or sign up for their newsletter.

5. Burnout

Why:

- Writing too much without breaks.

- Feeling exhausted and mentally drained.

- Stressed out from other engagements 

What:

- Take regular breaks: Schedule breaks during your writing sessions to rest and recharge.

- Engage in other hobbies: Spend time on activities you enjoy outside of writing to refresh your mind.

- Practice mindfulness: Techniques like meditation or deep breathing can help reduce stress and improve focus.

- Listen to music: It's an amazing mind therapy. 

6. Lack of Support

Why:

- Feeling isolated in your writing journey.

- Lack of encouragement from others.

What:

- Join writing communities: Connect with other writers through online forums, local writing groups, or social media.

- Find a writing buddy: Partner with another writer to share progress, provide feedback, and offer mutual support.

- Attend workshops and events: Participate in writing workshops, conferences, or webinars to learn and network with others.

- Get a writing coach: Find a coach that will dedicate their time assisting you through your writing processes. 

7. Working on Too Many Drafts Simultaneously

Why:

- Overwhelmed by multiple projects.

- Difficulty prioritizing which story to focus on.

- Constantly switching between drafts, leading to a lack of progress.

What:

- Prioritize projects: Choose one or two main projects to focus on and set the others aside temporarily. This helps you concentrate your efforts and make significant progress.

- Create a project schedule: Allocate specific times or days for each project. For example, work on one story in the mornings and another in the afternoons.

- Set clear milestones: Break each project into bit-sized, manageable tasks with deadlines. Celebrate when you reach these milestones to stay motivated.

- Limit new ideas: Keep a notebook or digital file for new ideas, but resist the urge to start new projects until you complete your current ones.

- Use a timer: Work on one project for a set amount of time (e.g., 25 minutes using the Pomodoro Technique) before taking a break or switching to another task.

8. Frustration of Not Completing Any Stories

Why:

- Feeling stuck or losing interest in projects.

- Perfectionism preventing you from finishing.

- Lack of a clear plan or direction.

What:

- Set realistic goals: Define what "completion" means for each project (e.g., finishing a first draft, reaching a certain word count) and work towards that.

- Embrace imperfection: Accept that your first draft doesn't have to be perfect. Focus on getting the story down, and you can revise it later.

- Find accountability: Share your goals with a writing buddy or group who can help keep you on track and provide encouragement.

- Reward yourself: Plan small rewards for completing sections of your work. This can be anything from a favorite snack to a relaxing activity.

- Reflect on your progress: Regularly review what you've accomplished to remind yourself of your progress and stay motivated.

- Set a clear outline for your story: Having a clear and detailed outline for a story makes it difficult to run out of ideas. 

- Share your achievements with others: Achievement posts are one of the posts that receive more engagement from people. I'm quite aware of Substack. The notes with the highest engagement have to do with achievements. People find those notes empowering and inspiring. Share your wins with others and let them celebrate with you. 

9. Working on Too Many Drafts

Why:

- Perfectionism leading to endless revisions.

- Difficulty deciding when a draft is "good enough."

- Fear of publishing an imperfect work.

What:

- Set a draft limit: Decide on a maximum number of drafts (e.g., three to five) before moving on to the next stage.

- Establish clear goals for each draft: Define what you want to achieve with each draft (e.g., plot consistency, character development, grammar).

- Seek external feedback: Get input from beta readers or a professional editor after a set number of drafts to gain fresh perspectives.

- Create a timeline: Set deadlines for each draft to avoid getting stuck in a cycle of endless revisions.

10. Trying to Earn with Your Writing

Why:

- Financial pressure to monetize your writing.

- Balancing creative passion with commercial viability.

- Navigating the competitive market.

What:

- Diversify income streams: Explore various ways to earn from your writing, such as freelancing, self-publishing, blogging, or offering writing services.

- Build an online presence: Use social media, a personal blog, or platforms like Tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram to showcase your work and connect with potential readers and clients.

Remember, If you don't find any that relate to you, write it in the comments and get a personalized solution from me.

- Offer exclusive content: Create special content or giveaways for your audience to increase engagement and loyalty.

- Learn marketing skills: Invest time in learning about book marketing, SEO, and social media strategies to effectively promote your work.

- Network with other writers: Join writing communities and attend workshops or conferences to learn from others and find opportunities for collaboration.

Remember, If you don't find any that relate to you, write it in the comments and get a personalized solution from me.

Reblog to save for later 😉. Once again thank you for supporting my blog!

[luna-azzurra]

Raw emotion isn’t about saying he was sad or she was furious. It’s about what their body does before their brain catches up. Does his throat tighten like he’s swallowed glass? Does her hand grip the table so hard her knuckles turn white? People feel before they name it. Write the feeling first.

[includedisco]

Whenever you feel like you didn't explain this or express that better, keep in mind that some portion of your story is supposed to be left to the reader's imagination.

Reading is meant to be thought-provoking, even if it's a fanfic story. As long as you've done your best to explain the scene, pat yourself on the back for a job well done and let it go. If it still bothers you later, you're allowed to go back severally(even if the story is posted) to edit the scene. It's your story.

[lovenonymously]

the importance of well-written stories

watching Lovely Runner was like watching 4 K-dramas at once lol

well-written stories are so rare, you only understand that when you watch something exceptional. something unique. a once in a lifetime experience of watching it for the very first time.

this show gave me so many feelings. in truth, it was an experience. I'm glad I put aside my fear of sad endings and watched as it aired. for once, I took the leap and discovered that's exactly what this drama wanted me to learn.

usually, after finishing really good K-dramas or stories in general, I hit a slump where I cannot function. everything feels dull and boring. a different kind of grief at realising this was just fictional.

but not this time.

all I feel is light and happy. like I'm floating. I want to carry this feeling and runaway. I want to remember how this felt and hold onto it when I get down or get bad days.

lifetimes lived.

Sol was sunlight. bright and unwavering and unforgettable. 💛

living vicariously through Im Sol, from feeling her pain in the beginning to her sunny hope that Sun Jae gave her. all her struggles as she jumped through various lifetimes, loved and lived and loved again. crying with her, laughing with her, rooting for her despite all odds. it was a journey.

beyond her love for Sun Jae, Sol's choices changed her family's life too. they were less hurt and much happier in the future she helped them create. even giving her grandmother a chance to return to the past and relive her fondest memories.

Sun Jae was midnight rain. the comfort of a sudden shower in the middle of summer. 💙

apart from being a complete loser in love, Sun Jae was in love with Sol for a total accumulated time of 45 years.

yep. my reaction exactly ^

I won't lie, when they pulled the "he fell first" trope in Episode 2, I was wary. one, because if the writers were willing to pull such a twist in just the second episode, then who knew what else was in store for us? my guess was pretty spot on, the twists that followed had me gasping and yelling out loud. this show was unpredictable from beginning to end.

and two, because I was worried that Sun Jae's character might get reduced to just him being in love with Im Sol.

in that case, I'm glad to say,

I was completely wrong.

despite Sun Jae's love for Im Sol, he had a grounded personality of his own. whether it was OG Sun Jae (ep 1), who lived in the guilt of what happened to the girl he loved, or Timeline 3 Sun Jae (ep 15), who never fell in love at all, he was positive, kind, decisive and striving to live.

and i love that about him.

for two characters whose stories are so deeply interwoven together, having shaped aspects of each other's lives, Sol and Sun Jae displayed their unique traits exceptionally well as individuals.

I cannot emphasize how happy this makes me. Sun Jae is his own person, Sol is her own person, and they are destined to be together. beyond their desperation for each other's safety and well-being, Sol and Sun Jae are genuinely good people who deserved to be together. even fate and time bent to their will to make it happen.

"As you wait for the rain to stop, live another day."

when a story makes you feel happy, hold onto that feeling. bottle it up. write it down. come back to it on the days the world feels against you and when the times feel too bleak.

fictional though it is, for what it's worth, at least the story exists. it means there are still people out there writing and bringing such stories to life. it means artists and creators like you and I haven't yet forgotten what it's supposed to be like to live. it means there are still people who connect to such stories and learn good things from it.

and as you wait for more such great stories, live another day. perhaps, if you get bored, write the story you want to read.

in the end, it's quite simple.

as for me, I'll be here. crying, laughing, screaming, giggling and kicking my feet while being up to my eyes in second-hand embarrassment (because goodness, these two idiots are COMPLETE LOSERS IN LOVE) throughout these past 8 weeks was the highlight of my year ✨ I will always remember that I watched a beautiful modern fairytale romance in the summer of '24 that reminded me that I was young and full of love to give.

good stories truly do make a difference 🤍