#so slow and so unrewarding

[gittetj]

I'm soooo looking forward to when I can move on to finishing the next 5 End of the World chapters. I'm doing my very best to demolish the status quo.

Have some doodles that took way too long to draw because I haven't drawn anything in ages.

[yanderenightmare]

Yandere Satoru and Suguru sharing a darling is what makes me OwO

Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru

TW: yandere, noncon, condescension

fem reader

It wasn’t really that you were weak… You were just unfortunate.

Unfortunate – to have been placed in the same year as them – Gojo and Geto, the two most promising students Jujutsu High had ever seen.

If only you would keep a lower profile like Shoko – and not be so determined to become the best – you’d be better off and not wind up on your ass each and every day sparring with the two boys – who really were the best. 

But something about their high-and-mighty attitude just makes them impossible for you to ignore.

The way they taunt and jeer, grinning their shit-eating grins – grinding your gears to no end – forcing you to try about anything to just, at least once, come out on top. 

Like now, in the padded sparring room – where you, again, could only barely find a foot to stand on – with what ground you had managed to keep thus far, visibly only thanks to your cocky opponent allowing it.

“You sure you wanna be a jujutsu sorcerer?” Gojo asked nonchalantly, his lanky arms slung around your smaller body with ease, resting his chin off the nook of your neck – unbothered by how you tried and struggled to shake him off.

You were dewy-faced and panting already while he hadn’t even broken a sweat yet. And it only aided in making your head grow ever hotter with vexation. “Take this seriously-” You growled back at him.

But he ignored you – the same way he ignored whatever amount of cursed energy you tried fighting him with. “I mean… I’m sure there are a lot of other things you’d be better suited for.”

After all… the last thing you’d want is for him to take this seriously. 

“Tch- like what exactly?” You bit out, hating his suggestive tone though needing him distracted with the conversation – thinking it would be a good stall to give you some much-needed rest where you stood, trying to hide how tired you were – forcing heavy breaths into smaller ones that made your lungs ache for air and your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Your weapon had already been thrown to the other side of the room – burst into a shattered broken mess of fragments you wouldn’t even be able to butter toast with anymore. And it hadn’t been the first one. In fact, the entire arsenal had been turned to splinters, leaving you to fight the boy who’d broken them all with only your hands to spare.

“Oh- you know….” He drawled, thinking it cute how you tried withholding your exhaustion from him. Pulling you a little closer to his chest – snuggling into you while thinking – his tongue out in concentration before calling out to the other boy. “Oh- help me out, Suguru.”

Geto sat waiting his turn next to the door, smiling like a cat with eyes closed. “Hmm… something cute…” He began before answering. “Like a maid.” 

You sneered – eyes lowering into a glare at the raven-haired boy who still, without a hitch, kept calmly smiling back at you.

Gojo offered a small snicker, adding to the ridicule, before whispering. “Or a housepet.” His voice, low and mocking in its whispering, yet loud right at your ear – with lips brushing your ear in a way you could tell he was smirking like his equally grating friend.

And it all just coaxed another spur of much-unrewarded effort where you once again tried your best at getting free – another growl spurring up from your gut with a vengeance. “Shut up-” 

“Don’t you agree, Suguru?” The white-haired boy ignored you again – though tightened his grip in correspondence – his long arms thrown in a cross around your front with slender fingers curling, now almost painfully, into the soft flesh of your midriff – having lifted your shirt enough for him to touch your skin directly.

“Mh, I can see it… doing laundry, cleaning the house, making dinner-” The other agreed, standing up with an unbothered sigh, taking slow and soft steps over the white padding to reach the two of you – his shape always much larger, growing like a mass of something menacing – dark and towering and shadowing like some great statue – making you feel so unbelievably small. 

Pulling his hand from his baggy pant pockets, you flinched as it thumbed your chin to make you look up at him – all your struggles gone and almost replaced with shivers instead – now with feeling the intense weight of being not just outmatched but outnumbered too. 

Feeling all but swallowed between the two, an inch of regret steadily crept about your gut, quenching what former fire used to fuel your spirit – leaving you with only an intense sense of defeat and fear.

His smile split with teeth, and you paled in light of it – breath thin as he leaned in closer.

“You’d look pretty natural wearing a pretty kimono… waiting for your man to come home.” He whispered, and you swallowed thickly in return, looking up into his slim eyes, who looked down at you with that small smile of his which seemed to carry a weight that felt crushing.

You tried keeping cool – tried grasping for any semblance worth of calm you could manage – even as Gojo’s hands, warm and soft, gently started messaging circles into your sides – his lips still at your ear in hot breaths and playful whispers. “Sure, it doesn’t pay the same way being a sorcerer does, but I’m sure a girl like you’d be grateful for pretty clothes and a big house.”

Geto hummed in agreement, his hand sliding from your chin to cup your cheek – with hot breaths fanning your face making goosebumps spring to the surface – adding to the statement. “And a warm bed to sleep in at night.”

You let out a whimper then, with lips quivering. The atmosphere had changed – turned thick with something else, something suffocating – something that left you faint, both speechless and breathless – whilst you warily looked up into the dark set of eyes above you and shivered at the feel of the teeth behind you. 

“All in exchange for some cooking and cleaning,” Gojo murmured against your neck, pulling your body closer while it shook unsteadily between the two of them.

“Don’t forget the other thing….” Geto hinted beneath his breath, his lips brushing your silently parted ones with a smirk, savoring that terribly troubled look on your face with an amused one of his own.

“Right~ The other thing~” Gojo purred, also enjoying your faltering, liking the feel of your heartbeat quickening beneath his fingertips.

“What thing?” You asked weakly – warily – as though scared of the answer.

Gojo snickered while Geto answered. “I think it’s better we show you this one.”

You were on your back the next second – your wrists pinned beneath the strength of Gojo’s fists where he kneeled above your head – his black shades slipping down his nose as he stared down at you with his smile and eyes gleaming in a look you could only call crazy.

Geto was kneeling at your other end, still towering over you – with big hands spreading your thighs, holding them tight to keep you from kicking. 

Your mind hadn’t really processed the possibility yet – hadn’t really allowed it to sink in – but it was dawning on you now – rapidly – while watching the boy lift your skirt up passed your panties.

“Hey! Stop-” You squealed, trying to bring your knees together to hide yourself. But you seemed smaller than you’d ever felt now, on the ground beneath the two boys who just dwarfed you in comparison.

“Think of it as part of training.” Geto offered casually while shuffling closer – his hands holding you beneath the knees, keeping you spread. “As a housepet, you need to learn these things.”

“And if you’re still adamant about becoming a jujutsu sorcerer… this is a realistic field exercise too.” Gojo added, his eyes big and ice-blue, glowing with something that seemed to seize you by the throat as he stared down at the growing hysterics on your pretty face. “I mean, with a face like this, I’m sure both curse users and curses themselves would want a taste before killing you.”

Geto removed his jacket, casting it aside. “We just want to help prepare you for what’s out there.” He excused, leaning over you with hands running over your chest, undoing button after button while you squirmed.

“No, please-” You shook your head, eyes closed tight in a desperate wish to wake up – the initial disbelief of the situation quickly leaving you every second of feeling hands touching more and more of your naked skin.

You choked on it, never having felt fear quite like it – soon finding hot streams of tears rushing down your face where you struggled to find air.

“We wouldn't want you going out into the real world thinking everyone’s going to play nice with you like we have.” Geto mouthed – eyes thirsty while looking at your cleavage – his large hands cupping your tits over the bra, making you squeak.

“Stop-” You sobbed, but like always, both of them ignored you.

“I’m sorry to say it-” Gojo cut you off, bowing down closer until his eyes were but an inch away from your teary trembling ones. “But the real world doesn’t care about you the way we do and won’t protect you like we will.” 

Geto’s hands slipped beneath your skirt – his fingers carding into the fat of your hips, smoothly hooking his fingers onto the band of your panties before slowly beginning to peel them down your thighs. “This is for your own good.”

[glotoru]

eren + his dodge charger + scaring his pretty princess

꒰ঌᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ໒꒱ black reader in mind, smut, fingering, mdni

eren drives a yummy black dodge charger and he’s sexy while doing it. he doesn’t even need to text when he’s here to pick you up; you can hear his engine from a mile away and the head splitting bass of rap music playing through his rolled down windows. he smiles when he sees you shushing him from the steps of your porch, hurrying down to his car while holding your purse. “my neighbourhood doesn’t like you ‘ren.” you giggle and grab the spare lip gloss always laying around in the console. but eren won’t let you use it, not before he grabs a hold of your face, makes you look him dead in the eye and kisses off your lip combo, “hello to you too, mama.” and he’s just so carefree while driving, a tattooed hand palming at the staring wheel not even bothering to check the speed number displayed on his dashboard, and the other settling in nicely on your plush thigh. eren has racked up his fair share of speeding tickets too, looks the police officer right in their eyes and they smile at him knowing how it goes—still, he doesn’t care too much for it. don’t let it be nighttime on an empty road either, because before you truly even know it the engine is almost screaming and eren’s pushing well over 100 kilometres an hour. he laughs when you’re hitting his arm, yelling at him to “slow the fuck down!” and gripping onto the side door for your life while being pushed deeper into your seat. but somehow he’s just so calm, giving you a grin that gets you agitated just after securing his grip on your thigh, “just stay put, i won’t crash”. he always makes good on his promise, but you’re annoyed—folding your arms against your chest and tilting your legs away from him when he slows down after what felt like an eternity. he’s not oblivious, knows you’re mad when you ignore him, closing yourself off and sniffling away whatever was gonna come—and it’s only till you’re seconds away from completely bawling that he’s pulling over and asking you to head to the backseat with that sweet voice that makes you do almost anything for him. and your compliance doesn’t go unrewarded—eren has you in a corner of the backseat, head tilting against foggy windows with breathy whimpers escaping your juiced lips with every curl of his fingers dipped into your cunt. “i’m sorry for scaring you baby,” he’ll say taking his hand to the apples of your cheeks to wipe your little tears just so sweetly, it almost makes you forget how his thumb wanders to your clit. “s’okay—i forgive you, jus keep going please.” he can’t help his knowing smile when you achingly rut your hips to clumsily fuck yourself on his fingers, lips meshing into a pout when it just doesn’t hit right. he’ll steadily start at unbuckling the belt slung on his hips, “you just stay put and think about cumming, yeah? lemme do the work.”

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader | Prologue

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> a/n I hope you're ready for a long series. This will cover the life of Eddie Munson, growing up in a trailer park and perhaps falling in love with you. Of course, there's a few complications on the way (perhaps his friend steals his girl - or maybe he becomes a rockstar and moves away) and the series includes so many tropes that I've chosen to keep them hidden away, so you don't get spoiled for later chapters. Muahaha! This will include smut, so PLEASE for the love of God, if you're under 18 - go away! Longer chapters await my friends. xo

-> <-

August 1970

This chair is uncomfortable.

Well, it’s for sure plastic. The static is making Eddie’s shirt sit uncomfortably on his body like a magnet that tethers him by an invisible line of Velcro. It’s not even his shirt. It’s his father’s old beaten shirt from a few years ago when he went to a car show.

It’s been forever. Eddie cranes his neck to stare at the big clock on the wall that he cannot read. The big hand is on the two and the little one is at the top on the twelve. It’s terribly late for him to be up, but that’s also what he thought when his father shook him awake and shoved him in the backseat of their car.

Letting his feet swing below him, Eddie wrestles in the plastic seat. Not a lot is going on around him.

It isn’t like how he sees on the televisions through the video store windows where the bad guy gets taken down by the cop. Although, his dad sure did put up a fight trying to get away from the cop. That doesn’t mean his dad is a bad guy though, right?

There’s only one cop sitting at his desk with papers stacked around him. He’s darker in skin tone with a fair amount of hair missing on top of his head. Wrinkles press the crown of his head. Scribbling something on the official looking sheet of paper, the cop mutters under his breath when the phone blares out an obnoxious ringing.

“Hello?” His southern draw laces into the phone call. “Yeah, send him in.”

The telephone is set back down onto the base, and the officer tilts his head at the young child occupying the seat next to his desk.

Edward Munson is the unforgettable boy. The wild child has a father made of criminal infamy in Hawkins, Indiana. It would appear that this time the old bastard has really gotten himself stuck for the long haul. Prison time. Long sheets of paperwork include one particular document that lists Wayne Munson, the uncle, as the child’s dependent as of right now.

Wayne bursts through the door with the secretary from the front desk. Eyes scorching from an exhausting drive after a terribly unrewarding shift at the factory, Wayne lays his gaze upon his disheveled nephew. Eddie doesn’t even have a proper shirt draped over his body. There’s not a doubt in Wayne’s mind that Al, his brother and the boy’s father, refused to pay a dime for clothes to cover his child.

It’s been a terrible struggle to encourage Al Munson to step up and become a father to his son. After his wife, Elizabeth, died, Al latched onto slots to fill the hole inside of his chest. Slowly, sleepovers at Uncle Wayne’s became a lot more routine and a lot longer stay for little Eddie.

That’s not to suggest that Eddie minds. Uncle Wayne has some pretty cool toys at his trailer. And, Wayne has a bed for him - unlike his dad, who lets him have the backseat of the car.

Al Munson gambled away all of his savings, and the house was foreclosed by the bank. He’s been avoiding his debts by living in his car with five-year old Eddie. That only worked for so long. Eventually, the police caught up to him.

Tonight Al was arrested for possession of illegal substances and a warrant from some time ago, and he is awaiting a trial that will most likely keep him locked away for a while.

“Hey, Eddie,” uncle Wayne approaches the small boy by dropping into a squat that’s closer to Eddie’s height. “Are you alright?”

Eddie bobs his head up and down.

“Sir,” the officer calls his attention. “I just need you to sign a few things and then we can release him to you.”

The secretary does the same as his uncle had done, and squats to his height. She’s very pretty. Pinned hair sits atop her head in a bun that’s shaped like an egg. Eddie giggles at this, his baby cheeks turning pink.

“Hi, Eddie,” she says sweetly. “Would you like a candy bar? You’ve been doing such an amazing job waiting for your Uncle.”

Her teeth are as white as diamonds. Dimples press her fleshy cheeks up, as she holds out a small chocolate bar in her hand. Well, Eddie has been spoiled tonight. Not only is he up past his bedtime, the officer that brought him here stopped to get him a hamburger first. And, now?

Eddie does take the chocolate bar kicking his feet with glee. The secretary helps open up the bar of chocolate for him, and he gobbles it down fast before his Uncle Wayne could see. Wayne thinks sugar keeps Eddie up at night.

Eddie keeps Eddie up all night.

It’s mere moments when his uncle returns to him, and the secretary waltzes back to her duties at her desk. Uncle Wayne gives his nephew the tightest hug, while hiding his tears in Eddie's shirt. It’s never ideal to have a brother, who refuses to take care of his child. The least Wayne could do is keep Eddie safe and out of harms way.

Holding a copy of the terminated parental rights of Alan Munson with one hand, Wayne scoops the boy up with his other and keeps him holstered onto his hip.

“Hold on,” Wayne directs.

Eddie clings to the plaid fabric of his uncle’s shirt collar. Too soon, will Eddie be grown up to where Wayne can’t coddle him anymore.

The walk out of the precinct is short. Eddie waves goodbye to the officers and the secretary, who took care of him for the hour that Wayne prepared his home and drove out here to get his nephew.

Wayne drives extra slow that evening, even though the roads are clear. Feeling heavy for the loss of a father, Eddie must learn life skills from his uncle. Not being a father himself, Wayne is apprehensive at best. There’s not a thing he wouldn’t do for this boy. When Eddie came into the world, Wayne became the third person to ever hold him. That comes after his mother, and his father.

There is so much hope in a newborn baby. No one has broken them yet. There’s still so many firsts to explore the big wide world.

Slowing at a stop, Wayne cranes his head into his overhead mirror. Eddie is lopped over the seat bucket with a pile of drool coming from between his lips. His eyes flash underneath his eyelids.

What Wayne doesn’t know, is that Eddie hasn’t had a real sleep in days. Ever since they lost the house, Eddie has kept one eye open in the backseat of his father’s car. Sleeping outside isn’t exactly peaceful. Horns honking. Babies crying. Someone’s always yelling. Not to mention his dad snores. Loud.

Wayne decides not to wake the sleeping boy when he does eventually pull in to his humble trailer. Killing the engine, Wayne quiets for a moment. The soft snore from his lips eventually turns into a groan, and the young boy kicks his legs out. Sitting upright and sleeping cannot possibly be comfortable.

The thought of raising a child has never crossed Wayne's mind. After Eddie had been born, Wayne swore children were too much for him to handle. They cry all the time, then you have to feed them and you have to make sure they're clean and not to mention that when they keep crying for no reason - you can't kill 'em. 'Suppose in a way Wayne has gotten the parenting thing down because of Eddie anyway. Being an uncle to Eddie is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

Eddie took his first steps right on that front porch in front of his house. Elizabeth, Eddie's mom, was leaving Eddie for a couple of hours for work, and Eddie grabbed onto one of the couches before wobbling after her.

Oh, how Wayne misses her. She was a saint of a woman. When she got sick, Wayne saw a different person in Al. He's not too harsh on his brother. It can't be easy missing the love of your life like that. But, the boy - Eddie stretches out when Wayne opens the back passenger door - Eddie should have been enough of a reason for Al to keep going.

Wayne unbuckles the boy, who slumps forward. Catching his head, Wayne slides his other hand underneath the young boy's knees. Eddie stirs. Wayne holds in his breath and he freezes. Eddie tilts his head, eyes batting sleepily, then leans forward into his uncle's heavily beating chest.

"Alright," Wayne whispers into his curls, "Come on."

Carrying him up the steps, Wayne tries a few times to open the front door. Getting the key in the lock is one trick, but now to actually open the door? It would probably have worked best if he had done this before carrying a hefty sleeping five year old. Noted.

Eventually, he twists the knob and pulls. He pulls enough, so that he can wedge his foot in the door. Grunting, Wayne twists around and scoots into the home.

Eddie begins to slide from his grasp, and Wayne juggles him a bit before he can fall. Eddie’s quite long for a five year old. Or, so he assumes. His limbs splay out like a praying mantis.

There’s an extra bedroom in the back of the trailer. Little robots and figurines take up most of the space where Wayne’s collection of books once were. A rickety wood desk that’s peeling apart is home to a number of old train car toys that Eddie really liked out of Wayne’s collection.

Tucking Eddie in to the old twin bed he bought at the thrift store with nearly half his paycheck, the young child is surrounded by a plush layer of blankets and pillows. But, Eddie still clung to his uncle. Finally, someone who cares about him enough. Doubt scrambles Eddie’s mind and he wonders sleeplessly if his uncle would be there when he woke up.

It doesn’t take Wayne much convincing to slip into the tiny twin bed along side his nephew. Tiny mewls escape Eddie’s tired lips. Since he’s so scrawny and lengthy, Wayne has no trouble taking up the empty space in bed with him.

“You’re safe,” Wayne whispers into that wild mane of hair. “I’ve got you, now.”

-> <-

[June 1972]

[writingquestionsanswered]

How do I portray two people falling in love slowly when neither of them really understands love or has ever truly been in love/loved by anyone? Like, they're both slowly learning what love is and how to love with each other.

Learning What Love Is via Falling in Love

Every person and situation is different, and it also depends on what kind of love we're talking about here. If you just mean that they haven't experienced romantic love, that's a different situation than someone who also didn't grow up in a loving household.

Didn't Grow Up in a Loving Household - Sadly, some people reach adulthood without having experienced consistent and unconditional love from the people who raised them. This can lead to a constant fear of abandonment in adult relationships (including friendships, work partnerships, familial relationships, and romantic relationships), which can result in putting up emotional barriers ("putting up walls") to avoid being vulnerable and giving someone the opportunity to hurt them by giving love and then taking it away. It can also lead the person to pursue unloving /unrewarding relationships, intentionally or not. So, a person in this situation has truly not experienced love, or if someone did genuinely love them, they wouldn't have believed it.

What's important to remember about someone like this is there's a difference between never having experienced love--or not believing it was real when it was being experienced--and not knowing or understanding what real love is. Unless your character lives under a rock, odds are they have been exposed to healthy loving relationships of all kinds over the years. They have associated with people (be they friends, family, neighbors, co-workers, or characters in media) who love and are loved by others... they've spent time with married friends who truly love each other, they've witnessed their neighbors' love for their children, they've read books or watched movies with romantic plots or subplots... So they can recognize love, they just fear that they are undeserving of love themselves (because it was never given to them consistently and/or without conditions) or they're too afraid to trust that love is real.

Some things to consider when portraying this situation:

1 - Awareness of childhood emotional wounds/impact on relationships matters. Many people tend to be aware of their childhood emotional wounds and have some understanding of how they impact their relationships, even if they feel somewhat helpless to change things. Many people seek to heel from these emotional wounds either on their own or via therapy, and that would certainly impact how a person moves through a healthy romantic relationship.

2 - What's different in this case? You'll need to figure out (and portray) what makes this relationship different. A good bet is that these characters feel a kinship due to sharing similar emotional wounds from childhood and having had similar impacts. That doesn't necessarily mean they won't still build walls, be free from fears of abandonment, or will believe the love is real right off the bat, but that recognized kinship creates a bit of traction for the healthy relationship to build and also creates a bit of a mutual safety net... "they won't hurt me because they don't want to be hurt by me."

3 - The subtle signs of love will be the same but probably more reserved, hesitant, and slower. This will be a real "slow burn," and there will probably be some setbacks relating specifically to fears of abandonment and issues of self-worth and trust. The Subtle Signs of Romantic Interest and Love Guide: Writing a Slow Burn Romance Guide: Characters Falling in Love Guide: Creating Romantic Chemistry

Grew Up in a Loving Household But Hasn't Experienced Real Romantic Love - Even when people do grow up consistently and unconditionally loved by those who raised them, people can still get off on the wrong foot with romantic relationships. This can especially be the case when a first romantic relationship isn't loving, because it can lead someone to be in a string of loveless relationships. In this case, the emotional trauma will probably be more subtle... they may not even be aware of it unless a wise family member, friend, or therapist has pointed it out to them. The person won't feel unlovable, they'll feel like they're just not worthy of romantic love. They also probably won't have the same trust and abandonment issues, but rather a disbelief that any show of romantic love must be insincere--like the person must have ulterior motives or something.

In this case, too, it's not that they don't know what romantic love is or looks like. It's not that they don't understand it. It's just that they don't feel like they're deserving of it because no one has ever given it to them before (even if someone did and they simply didn't believe it was real). So the obstacle here will be for the character/s to learn to trust one another, and again--if they have that kinship of having emotional wounds related to love (you could even have one character have an unloved childhood and one character never in a loving romance if you wanted) is still what gives it traction. The links above still apply, again you're just doing things a little slower and navigating the obstacles related to the resulting issues.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[majikkulu]

━━ ❝MASTERLIST❞

𓂃⋆.˚

i don’t usually do death readings, but this one feels special because one direction has always held a significant place in my heart. i’ve also been interested in conspiracy readings, so i thought i’d give it a try and see what comes thru. check out my liam's astro chart and his death analysis!

i truly hope this reading brings closure to those who need it. if you enjoyed it or have any questions, please feel free to let me know in the ask box!

it seems that liam payne was alone when this happened. he may have been isolated, keeping to himself while enjoying his success. he might have felt comfortable but still distanced from others. i get really detached energy from him. i’m unsure whether his girlfriend was with him the whole time, but i believe he was reflecting on his career and how far he’d come before his passing. despite his success, i feel he was lonely, unable to rely on others, which caused him to build walls around himself. liam likely struggled with asking for help when it was truly needed, and he may have neglected certain aspects of his life as a result. it seems that what happened was impulsive, a mistake that he didn’t fully understand the consequences of. it appears to have been a rash decision, not premeditated. i don’t think liam intended for it to end like this; rather, he may not have realized the dangers around him, leading to this tragic event. he was likely battling internal and external conflicts—possibly even arguing with someone before it happened. there was tension and conflict, both within himself and with others, which escalated leading to his final decision. it all unfolded so quickly that there was no time for him to react. i wonder if liam received some kind of message that triggered this event. something shifted suddenly, and it was out of his control. 

liam craved recognition and validation, but i feel he didn’t get the approval he desired. despite his efforts to maintain a successful and positive image, the pressure was overwhelming. this need for external validation might have contributed to his struggles. i believe liam may have been under the influence of substances at the time. while i’m not sure if he had addictions, he was likely struggling with unhealthy habits or toxic relationships. he may have been self-sabotaging and caught in a destructive mindset, feeling trapped in a cycle of poor choices and unhealthy relationships. there’s a sense of control—either from others or from his own demons—that made him feel suffocated. liam was frustrated, assessing his life and feeling dissatisfied with how slow things were progressing. he wondered if all his hard work was worth it, feeling unrewarded and underappreciated. he pushed himself too hard but gave up too soon when things didn’t pay off. it seems he received some information that shifted everything for him, playing a role in what happened. he may have learned something life-altering that caused his decision. he was obsessed with perfecting his craft and overworked himself, neglecting other parts of his life to the point of being consumed by it. he took on too much, refusing to slow down or ask for help. liam hoped for peace and healing, perhaps even looking for a way out. at some point, he became emotionally vulnerable, hoping things would change. but despite his faith, it wasn’t enough to protect him. ultimately, liam was carrying far too many burdens. he felt weighed down by responsibilities, exhausted emotionally, physically, and mentally. he was struggling to manage it all on his own, and it became too much. he felt he had no one to turn to, burdened by others’ expectations and trying to live up to an image that wasn’t truly him. ultimately, it seems he was just too mentally drained, and this was the only way out he saw.

[rosalinesurvived]

Suehiro “For just five minutes I will place Jouno above justice” Tecchou coming to the slow creeping dawning clinging horrifying realisation that everyone in his group has just been brutally killed off by his captain–who brought them all together for the sake of stopping a war that never even existed, and also everyone in his group-including him-were nothing more than children dragged through the mud for the sake of being ‘slaves to society��.

Suehiro “There is evil that goes unpunished and good that goes unrewarded” Tecchou coming to the very, very, very slow realisation that his friends who fought for years on the side of supposed justice are dead, he is alone, and they never were or will be rewarded because it was their captain who cut them down, who himself turned them from street children and child soldiers into government experiments, lab rats, almost taking away their humanity, has been manipulated for decades, realising that the line between good and evil is so blurred that he can hardly even see it anymore.

The world no longer makes sense to him.

[shift-shaping]

part of the walls

enaste aids the people of wycome as they reckon with lyrium withdrawal. solas helps.

rating: m

pairing: solavellan

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For the next few days, the city was quiet.

In the dark of night, under the gaze of bribed and distracted guards, Enaste and her allies worked to clear the wells of their poison. It was hard work, and unrewarding, and dangerous. The dwarven merchants proved helpful, and Enaste promised them coin and official recognition for their heroics. But much of it was a mage's job, as truly destroying the red lyrium, sinking into its roots and permanently preventing any further spread, was best done with magic. With only herself and Solas, their efforts were slow and exhausting.

Then came the withdrawal. She'd expected this, based on what Cullen was going through with normal lyrium, but the sheer number of people who sought their help in the days following the cleansing was overwhelming. Most of her time was spent attempting to alleviate the symptoms of the withdrawal, kneeling at the bedside of nobles who pretended she wasn't there.

Or that she was someone else.

What made everything worse was Solas's sudden coldness towards her. He'd left her room, found some other place to sleep, and avoided her whenever his presence wasn't strictly necessary. She tried to talk to him, even casually, but his responses were short and professional.

Yet still they had to work together. It was more efficient to work in the same place, sharing resources and techniques. The worst part, to Enaste, was that it wasn't miserable. He was still himself, still the same calm and intelligent and compassionate man she'd always seen him as. And if she could just forget how he'd touched her, how he'd held her, she could pretend they'd only ever been allies under the same banner.

At least she'd managed to patch up the cut on her face in that time. It would scar, but not badly, and after some of her own healing magic it scarcely even hurt.

"I could–" Solas had offered, then stopped himself.

"No," she'd said as she stitched her own skin with magic thread. "I've got it."

She more or less forced Solas to take a break, leaving her alone with a handful of victims. For the better part of the last hour she'd been trying to help a particularly irritable old man whose alcoholism was interacting badly with the withdrawal. Her forehead was slick with sweat, her magic nearly spent, but he would be okay. He stood, groaning, and with a half-hearted thanks stumbled away from her. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face, elbows pressing into her knees as she sat on the edge of a cot and stole a moment for herself.

"Are the treatments going well, Inquisitor?"

She looked up, and straightened instinctively when she saw Bran and his dog standing at the entrance to their shoddily-built tent. "Hahren," she greeted, and he nodded respectfully towards her. His cane tapped the ground, finding the stray supplies she'd left scattered about. "Abelas, Hahren, I will keep our things more organized."

He shook his head. "Do not concern yourself with it. You have a great deal more to busy your mind with." His dog clung close to his side, still, watching her.

"Did you need something?" She asked, and tried to keep her voice steadier than she felt.

His cane tapped her foot. "The others tell me you have hardly had a chance to rest."

She shrugged, forgetting he couldn't see her. "There is work to be done. I can rest when it is over." She glanced at the entrance to the tent. "Besides, Solas and I are the only ones who can do this."

"Is that so?" He tilted his head. "There are no other mages you can call upon?"

"No. I've sent word to Skyhold for standard reinforcements, but even if I requested more mages it would take the better part of a week for them to arrive." She looked down at her hands. They were sore and raw from her work. "Too little, too late."

Bran hummed softly, thinking. His dog slipped behind him, then nudged its nose into an empty chair. He followed it, found the chair with his cane, then relaxed into the seat with a sigh.

"I... understand now," Enaste said softly. His brows furrowed. "Why you want to revolt." She looked at the cot where her most recent patient had been. "I'm used to suspicion, and scorn, and people getting offended just because I'm in the room but I'm not..." She exhaled shakily. "These people don't even see me. It's --it's like I'm a piece of furniture. They get better sometimes, after I help them, but sometimes they don't." She looked up at him. "I... I don't know how you live like this."

He was quiet for a moment, hands resting on his cane. Then a small, mirthless smile pulled at his lips. "Because we have to, da'len."

"You don't," she insisted, and his smile did not fade. "You could leave this place, you could join us."

"The Dalish, you mean?" He asked gently.

She nodded, then remembered he couldn't see her. "Yes. I know it sounds hard, and it is, but it's... it's easier than this. We aren't –the shemlen don't see us as servants. They don't see us as, as part of the walls."

"Because they don't see you at all."

"Ideally, no, they don't. And isn't –isn't that better?"

He sighed and leaned forward, the chair creaking beneath his weight. "Why should we leave our homes to hide in the forest?"

"It's not hiding," Enaste replied, suddenly defensive. "We live apart from the shemlen deliberately, so we can live how we please. Besides, it's –the alienage isn't really your home, it's just the place you've been forced to live."

His low, deep laugh caught her off guard. "You tell that to the people who have lived in it for generations, the ones who built their homes on top of their parents', and their parents' before them."

He paused, and his smile faded. "This city belongs as much to us as it does to the shemlen, and they would like for us to disappear into the forest as much as you would." She tried to defend herself, but he went on. "The reasons may be different, but the result is the same. Inquisitor, this is our home. We will abandon it for neither convenience nor ideal."

She swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut. She heard him, she understood what he was saying, but it still felt so wrong. "Even if the only reason you're here is because you had to abandon what made us elven to begin with?"

"And what is that, da'len? Our language? Our gods?"

"Yes!"

"A language even you, a First among your clan, can barely speak?" She opened her mouth, then closed it. She thought of the writing in ancient texts she couldn't read, the stories she knew only in fragments, the songs missing verses. "And gods that even you believe abandoned us?"

At no point had he raised his voice. Every word fell slowly and heavily into place. He waited, giving her space to respond, but she had nothing left to say.

"We are not bound by the definitions made for us by dead men," he continued gently. "Nor are we ghosts lingering in some forgotten ruin. We are more than shadows cast by firelight. What we are now, here, in this place, is as solid and real as any figure carved in stone. We do not live and breathe to be embodiments of regret. We do not survive by mistake."

His dog's ears suddenly perked and it looked towards the entrance to the tent. Enaste followed its attention to Solas, who had returned from his brief rest.

Bran sighed and stood. "We can continue this discussion another time, Inquisitor." He tested the ground in front of him with his cane as his loyal hound stood at attention. "Oh, but one other thing."

Enaste cleared her throat. "Of course, Hahren."

"You do know at least one other mage that can help us."

"I..." She hesitated. "You mean our Keeper." He nodded. "She can't. There are too many people in our clan who need her help."

"Then have them come here," he suggested. "We can find the space. And would they not be safer with three mages to protect them, instead of one?"

"I... I don't know. I suppose so."

"Consider it, Inquisitor. Or you will be overrun sooner than you think." He took his leave, slipping past Solas, who gave both he and his dog ample space. He watched them both, brows knit, but said nothing.

"Did you want to rest, Inquisitor?" He asked, in that same cool, professional tone he'd used since he left her alone on the roof.

"No." She stood, looking to the patients they still had to care for, well-aware that more would come soon. "There is too much work to do."

The weight of his cold grey gaze lingered on her. She tried to ignore him and began making cold compresses with rags and magic.

"Very well," he said eventually, and went back to his work in silence, his back to hers, keeping as much distance as possible in the small tent.

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[kedreeva]

hi Ked! congratulations on your word count milestone! that is amazing, especially with a full time job.

I was wondering if you had any thoughts or advice on writing regularly when you're tired from work. I'm a slow writer myself, and it's very frustrating to finish a work day and realize that I gave the best of myself and my energy to my employer.

Thank you!

I can't really say what will work for you, but for me, it helped to designate a time and space for writing. Human brains LOVE a good pattern, and setting up a time and space instigates pattern recognition. It's why you're not supposed to, like, do other stuff than sleeping in your bed space, because if the only thing you do in your bed space is sleeping, then when you enter bed space at bed time, your brain goes Ah ha, it is time for sleep, PREPARE and it becomes easier to fall asleep (typically, obviously).

Designating a time and space ALSO means you are specifically making time for writing (rather than just "I'll do it at some point") and that it has a start time and a stop time. LOTS of brains don't work well without a deadline, and "I'm gonna sit down to write" doesn't push the same button as "I will sit here for 15 minutes and write, then writing time is over." It's why racing others is so effective most of the time- because there's a time limit. Often a brain can rally easier if the task has an endpoint to look forward to or "beat" so to speak.

If you don't have friends to race with (you can join my writing discord and do races there), then there's always sites or programs like written? Kitten! or 4thewords or Fighter's Block or Write Or Die. Personally I prefer WOD2, I purchased the app and it's a good way push solo. You set an amount of time, you set a word count you want to reach, and you set a stimulus you do not want to receive for stopping writing. For mine, the screen begins turning red and if I stop writing long enough, the program starts eating my words. So the task goes from "write" to "play game called keep WOD from eating my words."

The thing about the above stuff is that the ACT of writing can feel very unrewarding when you're just writing and not getting anything- it's part of why we share fanfic and stuff online, because then we're getting the reward of comments or discussion. Before you post or publish or otherwise share, you're just.... doing a task. and not getting anything from it, except getting it out of your system or getting to read what you wrote and sometimes the latter feels more like a chore than the writing did. But writing socially (finding a writer's group, finding friends to share with, finding a fandom to talk about your work with etc) or making writing a game or at the very least getting little treats for accomplishing words can alleviate some of that, and make it easier to do.

So, sometimes i do races, sometimes I play games, sometimes I give myself little pictures of kittens or puppies, sometimes I set out a row of small candies (like jellybeans or m&ms or something) and I get to eat one for every sentence I write. Sometimes I frame writing as the reward; "okay, me, we are gonna put away clean dishes, and load the dishwasher, and then we can write for 10 minutes!"

[silentreigns]

Singapore GP 2023 Reflection

Singapore is now my favorite race of the season. I liked it even more than Monza and Silverstone. The race started off slow but those last 15 laps were everything

Charles going from P3 to P4 doesn't look too bad on paper. But considering they asked him to create a 5 second gap to Carlos and a 5.7 s pitstop, I wouldn't be surprised if he started cussing everyone out. Not to mention Max closed the gap to him in like 20 s.

Carlos is a well-rounded driver. Good at tire management, good strategist, and he's been like the best qualifier this whole season. If you told me that he would be the one to end RedBull's streak at the beginning of the year, I wouldn't have believed you. He was scoring points but he wasn't really on the podium. I would have thought Fernando would have been the one to do it

Speaking of Carlos, we saw him keeping Lando within DRS to fight off other cars like we did in Austria. Something about Carlando teaming up despite being on different teams is so special to me. Idk a better friendship on the grid

Esteban putting in all that work & overtaking just to DNF because of reliability issues suuuuucks. Especially on his birthday 😭

Saw Pierre for like 2 seconds and what we did see was pretty cool. Good for him for scoring points.

Fernando having a disasterclass was not on my bingo card. I need Aston Martin to bounce back and go back to how they were at the beginning of the season.

Checo not getting investigated for taking Yuki out is part of my conspiracy on how RedBull is paying off the stewards. Idgaf if I sound crazy but something is up and you can't tell me otherwise. At least he's getting investigated for the incident with Alex

Lewis was the fastest car out of the top 4 in the final laps. What I wanted to happen was for him to overtake George on lap 60 and for him to cook. I wanted him on the podium by overtaking, not because George took himself out. But he's now 3rd in the driver's standings so it's all cool

George you had everything within your grasp like what happened 😭 I know he's going to be beating himself up a lot about this and I feel pretty bad. I'm sure he will bounce back at Suzuka.

Congrats to Liam on scoring points! You deserve that AlphaTauri seat more than Daniel does 🥳

If Yuki was actually able to race, I definitely think he would have scored points. Fastest RedBull in quali and it went unrewarded. And the worst part is that I think nobody on his team will defend him. I just want him to have a seat on the grid next year. There's a voice in the back on my head saying that he's gonna be replaced next year and I really hope that's not true. Please let him finish a race again 😭😭😭

[andmaybegayer]

it's hack week at work so I'm writing a Language Server for one of our build tooling files, and I forgot how much fun programming can be when you have a clear and measurable goal which can be achieved in a relatively predictable timespan.

Problems that arise here are like "Figure out how to send debug messages to the editor" and "Find out why only five matches are appearing" or "decide on how to structure the docstrings for faster access."

My normal day job problems are like "Hey. You know the entire Linux kernel multidisk subsystem. Well the customer says they're getting these three error messages. They cannot under any circumstances test code on their system, which is set up in a massive high availability cluster that you can't replicate, and no one on earth has ever hit this exact problem before. Actually one of those error messages is known to be a lie that just hasn't been fixed in that kernel version. So. Do you know what's up?"

It's not hard, really, the hard stuff is handled by system developers who know their shit, it's just slow and unrewarding and intractable.

[christmasintheloonybin]

trying to begin the painful and entirely unrewarding journey towards going back to school. I feel motivated today and I hope this can continue into tomorrow.

my brain can really only deal with a few things at a time, it's stupid. I mean if i have one major task i can do it completely and enjoy myself most of the time doing it. if I have three major tasks, or even one major tasks and two side quests i can't do anything and I'm just sitting here miserable watching life pass me by. so I'm trying to think of ways to cope with it, I think the most effective is to say "do SOMETHING" the worst comes when you do nothing. anything is better than doing nothing. one phone call is better than zero phone calls.

what kills me about pretty much everything in the world is how slow the going is. how difficult it is to improve your life even marginally. I'll work myself up like I'm going to war and then fill out paperwork and they'll say "okay wait three months and then fill out more paperwork." what kills me is waiting. beaurocracy smothers all life. when, if you want to live life and do something fast, it's so easy to destroy your life, I mean tomorrow I could start smoking crack and live under the bridge. but if I want to go to college it is months and months of waiting. and by the time you achieve a victory it doesn't feel like a victory at all. it is so difficult just to stay motivated. I've never been one to "trust the process." I want to do things on my own terms.

[drdemonprince]

Student worker anon- my job is currently tied to my housing so quitting isn’t an option

Oh, are you an RA? If so I am not surprised about the invasiveness then. It's a cop job and they also act like cops to you. I hope you can find something less...oppressively institutional in the next year! In the meantime, I would consider complaining up the chain about the invasiveness of your boss. Students feeling surveiled and violated by a supervisor is often enough for a university to do something about. You are both a customer and an employee, so if you can find ways to complain to people within the university who see you more as a customer, you'll be listened to more. But it is hard and perilous if youre on a lot of need based aid and they know that about you. Good luck, I hope you find someone to take this complaint seriously! In the meantime, grey rock technique (google it) this boss as much as possible. Make yourself boring, flat, affectless, slow, unrewarding to bully.

[sopranoentravesti]

Constantly fighting against deconditioning and trying to slow the osteopenia/ prevent osteoporosis is so frustrating and unrewarding when no matter what I do to build strength and endurance it’s like “walk 100 feet —> need to sit from being winded walk another 50 feet—> need to sit because winded” ad nauseum (literally).

Like I’m sure it would be worse if I stopped, and like, I’m doing better than I was before I got crutches/ my Rollator but my endurance is eroding and I just wish I could build myself up and see results from exercise / set and meet sustainable goals.

[weenwrites]

Hey hey Ween! Hope you're doing well! I couldn't help but notice over time it feels like your ah..Spice? Zest maybe? Has gone down over time. I hope nothing on here has like, bummed you out or made you less into writing. That's not to say that I expect someone to act the same forever ya know. But yeah I'm basically just wanting to check on you. 👍

Hi! I really appreciate the gesture! My answer's below.

If you mean that my passion/enthusiasm for writing has dulled down recently (or over the past few months), it has, and the whole AI debacle has worsened the deterioration process.

But even with that going on, I still enjoy writing for other people, though my ability to be able to consistently write and queue up fics has deceased because of how repetitive, unrewarding, and taken-for-granted the work can sometimes feel (also life and education also get in the way but, eh).

However, the people like you who have sent in words of thanks and compliments about my writing make it more enjoyable for me to run this blog and write requests, so thank you once again!

On the other hand regarding negative experiences, the worst I've ever had so far is just when people don't even bother to look at/follow my rules. It's infuriating whenever someone sends in a request and it's so, painfully clear that they didn't even to bother to look any further down my rules post, but I'm just happy I haven't received any harassment or any homophobic asks.

Even with all of these in mind I still want to write and maintain this blog, even if it takes me a billion years to unprivate all of my works one by one and then post them to pillowfort. I'll just be a little slow to do so.

[mayhem-moth]

FIRST OLD HORROR STORY (QUALITY IS NOT GOOD)(FOR CONTEXT WE PLAYED A GAME WHERE WE MADE A STORY BASED OF AN IMAGE)(THE IMAGE WAS A TREE IN WATER)

She waded in the glimmering, shiny water and climbed unto the tree. This tree was not the usual tree, this tree held secrets and knowledge beyond any living beings understanding. She knew the tree would very rarely share however she was desperate. She recited the words to awaken the tree. “Bless me with knowledge and what’s mine can be yours, Tell me your secrets and let the unknown be known”. She waited, her heart dropped. It must be a myth after all… she thought feeling embarrassed for being so naive.That is when as if on cue, a light breeze drifted through the area, at least it started that way. The winds quickly swarmed around the area shaking the brush and scaring all creatures away. The wind appeared opaque and acted as a dome around the area, blocking almost all light. Except for a hole that sunshine shone through which landed right on her and the tree. She was extremely startled and did not know what to think. That is when she heard an almost alien voice with barley any human in it. It was just high enough of a screech to not hurt her ears. “What do you wish to know child?”. She heard the voice say. This was her opportunity to speak.” I wish to know the fate of my sister!” she yelled, trying to fiegn confidence despite being absolutely terrified. “You wish to obtain knowledge about your sister?”The tree pondered. “It is interesting how much you humans care about each other, despite never really knowing one another”. “Please… I just want to know where my sister is… She could be in danger!”She was desperate and panicking. She knew the tree could loose interest or refuse to comply at any moment. “ but… what will I get in return?” the tree asked in a sly manner, “ no good deed goes unrewarded”. “Anything! I just need to know where my sister is!”. “ Very well”. Then she fell and all she saw was black. No thoughts or feelings, Just an infinite rest.

She awoke, however she wasn’t in her body. In fact she couldn’t move. She panicked, and tried to tense her muscles but they would not move. It’s as if her entire body was paralyzed. After struggling for a while, she surveyed her surroundings. It was pitch black. She could feel her body on something cold and hard. Then she heard the metalic clanking and whirring of a machine. A door opened in front of her lighting the area. It was a factory of sorts. She was on a silver metal platform. This platform raised sliding her onto a conveyor belt. There she saw thousand of strange objects on random conveyor belts and machinery. She was awestruck at just how vast the factory was. However her pure curiosity was cut short by overwhelming terror. As in front of her was an incinerator. The flames lapped at the grimy blackened metal. She tried to scream. To run. But it was for naught as she was trapped in this body unable to move. She felt an overwhelming amount of distress. Every part of her being telling her to get up, move, speak, scream. However she was stuck and utterly hopeless. Until eventually the conveyor belt moved her further to her demize at an agonizingly slow pace. Her legs dangling over the fires. Until eventually her body slipped into the hell hole bellow. In her final moments she braces herself for the unbearable pain that was coming her way.

And then she woke up.

She awoke in her body. The sunlight shone through the tree and hit her eyes. The glimmering, clear water lapping against her cheeks. There was nothing but birds chirping and the peaceful rushing of the water. Everything looked completely normal. She got up. Her heart still racing. She decided that it was all a dream. She then proceeded to wade out of the water and unto the shore. After that she quickly ran home. Behind the tree there was a single, charred skull.