#technically that's half of what I'm talking about

[sweeterthanmydreams]

Desperately need to motivate myself to get words written but cannot. be. arsed.

I think I'll make my goal finishing typing up the material I have, then adding 3000 words to the end of it to account for hitting par on Tuesday. I really wish I hadn't been sick at the start of this month, so I could have gotten rolling sooner. =.=

Things fell apart last Saturday, me thinks, when I was trying to squeeze a puzzle out of my brain for the last leg of the dungeon. It went well in the end, and I came up with a puzzle in the end, but it was a whole 24 hours of panic and brain rot. I think I forgot to turn off "oh-god-I-need-to-finish-designing-this-dungeon-before-six-so-I-can-run-it-and-it's-noon-and-I-still-haven't-slept" mode once I no longer needed it.

Also spent all of last night finishing Rigel for when the next DM takes over on Saturday (we have a cool rotational system in which DMs break larger campaigns into arcs so we can all take turns) which is a big plus for task completion but boy howdy. I thought it would take a few hours, but it actually took all night and I still haven't settled on a hair color for him.

I think I'm going to make big goals for writing tonight be: 1) everything is typed up 2) 3000 new words written before midnight & 3) 3000 more new words written after midnight. If I hit point two before midnight, I'll allow myself to finish my Heather's Surprise illustration (it just needs a background & it's complete!) but if I hit point two after midnight I'll wait until I finish point three. I'd love working out Rigel's design to be an incentive, but I can totally see myself getting carried away and losing track of time.

(There's also an oc ask meme I was thinking of using as an incentive, but I'm not yet sure how I want to go about that so I'll save it for tomorrow. I'm thinking each character sent is a word sprint of a finite length & each so many words I complete in the time allotted is how many questions I can answer. Still gotta roll this one around.)

[nerdyfangirlingbooks]

Every now and then I remember the times I would mention to my flatmate that I was thinking of buying myself something reasonably expensive (that I had been eyeing up for months and had budgeted for) and she'd tell me that I shouldn't spend that much money on something I didn't need and it would be stupid etc etc while she regularly impulse bought things that cost at least as much and she would use once (while complaining that she was under a lot of financial stress and couldn't afford <$3/week for 2 months for a rental washing machine when ours broke). She is... perhaps not my first call for financial advice

[youremyonlyhope]

I'm not a "new musical theatre style music" person. Never have been.

Even when I was doing voice lessons, I'd steer towards the golden age or jazzy musical theatre songs. My voice teacher would have to drag me kicking and screaming towards adding anything new musical theatre to my repertoire. For a while, the most modern song in my book was I Know The Truth from Aida, and I wouldn't count that as new musical theatre style since I mean more the Pasek&Paul or Joe Iconis type.

And now I have an audition coming up for a small production of a show in that style and I'm supposed to sing a song in a similar style. And I'm looking at all my sheet music like... let me do some Cole Porter... or Gershwin... at least Sondheim please...

[wavernot4love]

hello i see ag 2morrow for the second show of boom done tour i am so excited

i haven't been to a show since thursday @ the end of january in typical northeast "no one, quite understandably, tours here in the winter" fashion & i very much need this i am so very much looking forward 2 it also this is gonna be a GREAT month 4 shows

[girlscience]

the past few weeks I've been feeling basically zero dysphoria and yet the amount I was thinking about my body didn't decrease even slightly

[dbphantom]

Thought process: wow I have so many tabs open on my Firefox what the hell was I do-

Carry on.

[milf-harrington]

did you guys know im writing a book? cause it is...not even close to finished <3

[unproduciblesmackdown]

find someone who gives you this look when you’re being a theatrical little menace and whenever it’s their turn being that way you hit them with the :l

[blueshykitsune-blog]

I want a giant brown bunny... but... but too much!

The only one I found was like $158 USD... it was just about 5 foot tall! It literally was like looking at what I wanted to make but realized I didn't have enough stuffing for!

And one that was like 3 feet tall was $100...

Like yes I know materials and time is money but I can still complain! Why fabric gotta be so much! And so messy! (The ones with faux fur or of the like. Like whyyyyyy!!!!) Also why is cotton and stuffing so much too! And you get enough for maybe only one 2 foot plushie!

(I ran out of tagging space... 30 the limit sadly. But I had more to say but maybe later I'll do a bigger post on that all.)

[ajarofpickledtears]

if all these fucking forms weren't so difficult to fill out I potentially wouldn't struggle actually doing them tbh

[fennthetalkingdog]

It's Gendering Time Baby (aka Fenn's weird thoughts about his gender in essay form)

Okay, so it's really late at night while I'm writing this (not the same time that I'll post probably) but my brain's going on a spiral tangent thing so I wanna go down it while I can. So I'm prolly gonna ramble, I apologize in advance.

So anyway, I feel like my relationship with my gender is... unique? I don't know, I see a lot of people talk about how they feel like a man or woman or nonbinary person, or how they feel like nothing or something neutral or "just themselves" but from what I've heard the latter usually call themselves agender or neutrois or something like that. If I had to pick one, I legitimately don't know what I'd say. I know your experience as a kid isn't the end-all-be-all for your identity, but I tend to look back at mine a lot to make sure I'm not adopting a label that doesn't represent me at all—but when I was a kid, I had no conceptualization of gender. It just wasn't something I noticed. Hell, I noticed differences in height more than I noticed differences in gender at the time. If you asked kid me, they'd probably just say, "Huh? What do you mean? How can you feel like a gender??" So that's not particularly helpful.

I didn't really start noticing gender until I learned that trans people existed (high school; had Christian parents and was overall pretty sheltered). And I only really learned about it in the context of "some people feel so strongly about gender that they wish to transition." So of course little me, who barely noticed gender at all, thought that they must be a demigirl because they were born a girl but didn't really feel anything. (I know now that's not what "demigirl" necessarily stands for lol but give lil me a break.) But their parents rejected them and of course, since they now had no other way to express this potential side of them, little me went exploring more. They found labels like "agender" and "neutrois" that seemed to fit their experience so much better, and so the demigirl label was dropped. But it still didn't feel like them, and they still don't feel like me.

You see, my gender is a pretty complicated thing that I like to ignore most of the time. But there was one time I tried to give a friend a metaphor to describe it, and that's the best thing I've got even now so here it is. I have a slightly interesting physical problem when whenever I strain my shoulders too much, the skin on my back becomes really sensitive and if I move in the slightest, it feels like my shoulder blades will break through my skin (consequence of carrying too heavy bookbags in grade school). But sometimes I can feel it starting to get bad because it feels like a hole is forming between my shoulder blades, like a cavern, where muscles that should be chill and calm feel almost like they're being sliced. (I promise this isn't a medical problem.) And my gender almost feels like that cave: a wide, open space lined with smooth, water-worn stone and closed to the open air, with a massive lake at the bottom and a single stalactite hanging from the ceiling. Water occasionally drips down from the stalactite and into the lake, and that's my gender, except the lake feels like nothing and my gender is diluted once it hits the surface of Me. I have a gender, maybe, but it's in parts per million instead of wholes.

So I'm basically agender, right? Or I'm some sublabel like libramasculine if my gender feels important to me still, but problem solved, right? Well, those labels technically fit from a technical perspective, but they still feel wrong. I may not have a gender, or at least a strong one, in the sense of having strong preferences about how I'm treated or seen, but at the same time I do? But it comes more in the form of likes and dislikes. I like being seen as a masculine (gender-wise) person over a feminine (gender-wise) person. I like being seen as a feminine as fuck (presentation-wise) dude instead of as a girl who doesn't care for themself. These feel like they come more from my personality than from a gender, so my gender is still technically nothing, but it still feels wrong to label myself as agender or something similar when I have such notable feelings about the matter.

So what do I do instead? Well, I play gender, like how a toddler "plays" as an animal or how a kid "plays" as a character from their favorite TV show. Everything I perform is still me—it's my desires, dislikes, and personality—but I get to be a boy thing instead of what people wanted me to be. If my birth gender is old and crusty and doesn't fit, then I get to choose something cooler, a new role I can play. The difference doesn't really matter on a day-to-day basis, does it? No one can tell if I knew since birth or if I'm faking it or if I'm somewhere in between, so what does it matter? What I know for sure is what I want to do with my body: I want to lop off my boobs and I maybe want to take testosterone. And I like being a boy in a dress. So, technically I don't really feel a gender? But I still don't identify with agender or any of the adjacent "lack at least some gender" labels because it feels weird trying to put a label on something that isn't there. I just call myself a transmasc nonbinary boy/man and move on with my life, because if I stop and think about it I'll confuse myself all over again.

[felixvanhuss]

Guess who's siiiiick! Because I simply cannot catch a fucking break!

[mayspicer]

Ok, the boss is no more! There were some super stressful moments but surprisingly we all survived o:

My animal companion got hit with disintegrate, but we had hero points to make him avoid it. I would cry actually, because disintegrate means no resurrection x_x

The war is prevented! At least this one, because Cayden's party is right at the center of a much bigger one just starting. Today we saved the country. Cayden is trying to not even save the whole world, just maybe slow the whole thing down and save as much people as possible...

[katy-l-wood]

So, I've gone back to working at Home Depot while I'm going back to college right? Well, shit is about to hit the fan at Home Depot's across the country. A new policy has been put in place about warnings for not following your schedule to the T, which originally everyone thought only applied to punch in and punch out times. Which would be fine! A lot of people do come in late too often, or leave late, or whatever.

BUT. Home Depot also, technically, schedules what time you're supposed to take your lunch. But NO ONE follows this part of the schedule because you literally CAN'T. The lunch times are so random and rarely work with people's coverage and they frequently break the rule of getting a 30 minute break every 5 hours because of where they sit in a shift. Plus, sometimes they'll be super early in a shift when you just aren't hungry yet.

And the new policy? If you are even a few minutes off on taking your scheduled lunch you'll get an attendance occurrence. (Or half of one, depending on how off you are in your timing.) Once you reach 10 occurrences, which would only take about 2-3 weeks at most of being off on your lunches, you get fired.

Talking to a customer? Too bad, you must drop everything and go to lunch. In the middle of cutting a lumber order for a customer? Too bad. In the middle of a huge rush at the paint desk with no backup that actually knows how to work the paint machines in the store? Too bad. Driving a forklift? Too bad.

The policy goes into effect in a week. People are already crossing out "customer service" and "employee support" (or whatever that one is) on the little values wheel on their aprons. There's talk of a work to rule strike.

Anywho. Prepare for some chaos at your local Home Depot and be patient with the workers going forward. We're not happy about it either.

[chaosandmarigolds]

Simon Riley! Who technically had the ring picked out as soon as he started babysitting Oliver

Simon Riley! Who nearly jumped out of his skin when you came in from getting the mail with the box from his grandmother, that contained said ring

Simon Riley! Who spent the last two and half years of dating perfectly planning the moment, even had plans B and C on backburner

Simon Riley! who told johnny about the plan and his buddy happily volunteered to take photos (he tried to talk him out of it he swears it)

Simon Riley! Who even asked your son if it would be okay to marry you (the answer was yes duh)

Simon Riley! Who knew knew it would all go perfectly, after all with all that planning-

"Olly said you want to be his dad."

The sound of your voice that would normally send peace and a sense of warmth through him caused his blood to run cold and he slowly turns from where he was currently working on building a dog house (a puppy is what you and he chose to get Olly for his fourth birthday), he looks up at you as you stood on the porch, a confused look upon your face and arms crossed. He had to play this cool, he could do this- "Whaaat?" Shit. "Now why would the lad-"

"Simon."

"Yes, mam."

You walk over to him where he stood in the backyard and you hum, "You get four seconds to tell me why my little boy is getting his hopes up about having a dad again, when you know full well-"

"I'm going to marry you."

To be honest, you were a little taken back, Simon had never seemed like the marrying type and you had spent the last two years trying to convince yourself you were alright with that. So you gulp down and look up at him, "You...what?"

"I have-Fuck- a plan, I have a plan and it was goin to be like tho' movies you make me watch tha' I hate- was gonna make it nice but-I'm goin to marry you an' I wan'a make sure Olly is alright with it."

There came the silence and you bite back the largest smile you swore you would ever have, "Y...you wanna marry me?"

"More than I want to breathe."

"Oh, then I guess I better say yes so you don't die, huh?" Your words were to distract yourself from crying and you pull him down for a brief kiss, "I still want the pretty proposal and the getting down on one knee."

Simon, who reasonably was a bit confused, blinked and then meets your gaze, his hands going to yours, "Are you sayin' Yes?" When he saw your nod he happily moved his hand to your waist and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "You'll get your pretty proposal, the flowers, and the photos, and I'll make it perfect, love, I'll make it perfect."

Here's what Johnny's photos looked like BTW (he tried)

[nereidprinc3ss]

pillow talk

in which spencer reid chooses a very odd time to reveal an anecdote from his past to fem!reader

18+ (fluff, extremely suggestive) warnings/tags: fingering but nothing graphic whatsoever, it's basically fade to black sex, discussions of spencer's gsw from season 5, medical talk (and inaccuracies), spencer is a sarcastic little shit a/n: found this super random little thing in my drafts and it was done and i think it's silly and cute so i'm posting it! 600 words, short n sweet!

“You got shot in the knee?”

It’s perhaps said too loudly for the setting—tucked into Spencer’s bed in the late hours of the night when up until this point the conversation had been nothing but murmured stories and quiet giggles. And before that, well—before that there hadn’t been much conversation at all. 

Still you can’t find it within yourself to apologize as you sit up, holding the top sheet to your chest and looking down at Spencer incredulously. His eyebrows raise like he’s surprised by your reaction. 

“Thigh, technically. And it was years ago. Come back.”

You huff but allow yourself to be pulled back down, head on his shoulder as his hand finds its place stroking your hip once more. 

“How have you never told me that?”

“You never noticed the multiple incision scars on my leg?”

“What? No! Can I look now?”

“You won’t be able to see them. It’s too dark.”

You angle your head toward him, and he does the same, tilting his down until your noses almost brush. 

“So turn the light on.”

“If I turn the light on I’ll get distracted.”

“Distracted by what?” You ask, realizing what he means and voice quickly fading even as you finish the sentence. He chuckles and kisses your head. 

“I’ll show it to you in the morning. Come here.”

“I am here,” you grumble. He hums, leaning down further to try and kiss you. 

“Closer.”

So you scoot up the mattress and roll onto your side, pressed right against him, to meet him halfway in a sweet kiss. 

“You’re kind of spoiled,” you laugh against his lips as he begins pushing the sheet from your body. 

“You have to be nice to me. I got shot, remember?”

“Right. And how long ago was this, approximately?”

“It was 19 days before my 28th birthday.”

So much for approximations. 

“Aw. You got shot for your 28th birthday?”

It’s his turn to laugh into the kiss as he carefully rolls over you but recovers quickly, assuming a deadpan delivery. 

“Yeah. And it was really bad.”

“Sexy,” you murmur as he kisses down your jaw. “Tell me more.”

“Shots to the leg can be life-threatening if the femoral artery is nicked. Thankfully the bullet missed mine. You’re welcome.”

Your heart skips with a split second of true anxiety, but you snort at his cavalier attitude. 

“Yeah? This is really working for me.”

He lowers his voice to the one he uses in more intimate contexts and you giggle as he explains his gunshot wound to you like it’s dirty talk. 

“The bullet went in through my rectus femoris…” now uninhibited by the sheet, he finds the spot on your thigh and pinches lightly, “and came out clean through my semitendinosis muscle.”

“Clean? No bone fragments?”

“Nope. The doctors said I was extremely lucky it didn’t splinter my femur but it completely destroyed my muscles. I had to do physical therapy for a year and a half and I had a cane for months.”

“That’s kind of hot,” you breathe, losing commitment to the bit as his kisses get lower and his hand creeps higher. 

“Wait until you hear about the mid-surgery aortic clamping and ligature complications. You’ll love this—I was awake the whole time.”

A soft moan slips from between your parted lips and your brows pinch. 

“Spencer—”

“What?” He murmurs. “Me getting shot in the leg isn’t sexy anymore?”

You manage something between a breathy laugh and a mewl as your back arches. 

“I’m gonna kill you.”

He hums against your throat. 

“Good luck. You’d be far from the first to try.”