#there's a tiny part of me that says run the new stuff with someone else first bc i don't wanna hit a bug or make a wrong choice with endrali

[queen-scribbles]

The plan for today: patch download at work(Monkey has a half day, so he’ll be home before I have a chance to actually log in, even if the server downtime window doesn’t get extended), take care of various critters I’m pet-sitting at record speed when I get home, and then

ENDRALI :D

we’re even having leftovers for dinner already so I won’t have to cook muahahahhaha

[a-chaotically-small-lunta]

Is it possible to enjoy g/t without it being a kink? /genq

100% yes. Many people in the g/t community like it without it being sexual or kinky in the slightest. In fact that’s why (at least on tumblr) there is a clear split between the kinky side and the soft side (aka Macro/micro for kinky stuff and g/t for non-kinky stuff)

But anyways; yes you can enjoy g/t without it being a kink. Most people use it as a coping mechanism and a comfort thought. Like for those who like the idea of being tiny, it’s the idea of being so small that the world’s problems can’t reach you, hidden away from prying eyes and crazy ideas. For those who like being giant it’s about being seen about being strong enough to fight the world and protect those they love. Size-shifters basically shift between the two, usually based on their mood. Although these aren’t the only reasons people like being Giant/tiny, there are many more but i just wanted to give a basic idea and I guess some psychology. Heck, Some like seeing things from a new perspective, a sense of adventure in something we see everyday. Then there’s also the mini collectors and also the enjoyment of “here’s a tiny object but BIG” (I mean giant cards? Hell yes I’m playing with those!!)

Lots of people are into it non-sexually. Cause there are so many aspects to g/t than just sex. There’s the trust building (and in some stories breaking) which, at least I believe, is one of the most essential parts to g/t; the trust. Trusting someone so big to not hurt you and trusting a tiny to not run away. There’s also the comforting stuff; like being hugged by someone so large that you just get all the stress and worries squeezed out of you with so much care so that you don’t actually pop. Having someone so small put all their effort into just hugging you and it’s not much but they’re doing everything they can to show how much they care. There’s the initial interaction where each party is frozen in time, and neither knows how to act, with their minds racing “what now?” Type thoughts run through their minds. There’s stories simply put into a g/t setting like fairies. There’s so much and there are so many scenarios out there that don’t involve g/t as a kink (Me and many others have shared these scenarios) Theres so much and there are many movies centered around g/t (like The Borrowers and the BFG) most of which are made for kids.

Heck I was into g/t as a kid (I just didn’t know what it was called) I grew up watching the 1997 movie The Borrowers and Honey, I shrunk the kids. I rewatched those so many times. I was fascinated by seeing the world from the tiny perspective. Seeing normal day things huge, it just sparked my young mind. I would daydream about it whenever I could (mostly school and church but still) The idea of being small or interacting with someone huge OR being big or interacting with someone small; it just made me all giddy. It made me smile and it might’ve been a coping mechanism but i genuinely enjoyed the stories too. I read the entire borrowers series in one month cause I was that into it. As a kid I didn’t even know it was a kink or could be, I just enjoyed it for what it was.

So yeah, you can definitely enjoy g/t without it being a kink. As they say, there’s always 2 sides to the giant quarter.

If you or anyone else out there, has any more questions about g/t, don’t be scared to ask! I’ll try my best to answer questions about it.

[simplydannie]

Introducing “mini fics”! I am refocusing myself to work and finish my main stories, but sometimes I’ll take a break and let my mind wonder. Mini fics aren’t meant to be carried on for more parts or continuation. They are short sweet stories (maaayyybe angst) that are just purely one-shots and “what ifs” in my AU to just enjoy. They’ll serve has place holders while I finish some main stories and art stuff that I tend to put off. So enjoy!

Vivian and Vaughn have a surprise for their twins… but it’s not the surprise they are expecting…

Velvet and Veneer had just returned from school. They sat on the couch, both wondering what in the world was going on.

“Did you do something and blame me?” Veneer turned to his twin, arching an eyebrow. He wore his usual attire: a red button up, short sleeve shirt tucked into his high waisted black jeans. It was left unbuttoned to reveal his black undershirt underneath. On his head at his favorite purple beanie that had belonged to his dad, and his favorite white and golden sneakers.

“Woooowww, really? You think that of me bro?” Velvet studied herself in the mirror, tucking in a loose strand of hair. Her black pleaded skirt wrinkles, an oversized dark pink sweater with a white collar underneath. Like he brother, she sported white and gold high tops, her purple scrunchie laying on her hair.

“Well cause it’s what you do! Why else would mom and dad tell us to wait here when we got back from school.”

“Hmmm, yeah you were right I probably did then. I just don’t remember what they heck it is.” She studied her nails unimpressed.

“One day Vels, I’ll get you back one day..”

Their conversation was broken as their mother made her way down the stairs.

“Oh good you’re home!” Vivian chimed, “Vaughn! Vaughn! They’re home!!” She squealed, running to the living room drawer pulling out a small box. Their father came down the stairs, a genuine look of embarrassment on his face.

“Perhaps just wait till you-…” He began to say.

“What? No!! I was so happy to tell you now we tell them together!” She went over pulling her husband's arm to join her.

“I just know what they’re going to say.” Vaughn crossed his arms as he looked at his twins with his ice, blue eyes.

“Did we do something?” Veneer asked.

“No sweetheart! Me and your father have a surprise for both of you!” Vivian smiled.

This peaked their attention. They both stood up walking over towards their parents, a gleeful look in their eyes.

“Oh my gosh! A vacation! We’re going on a vacation!” Velvet smiled.

“Well… no not-…”

“Oh! Dad got a new limo!! We’ll be going to school in a new limo! The one that has the little kitchen inside! I could eat my breakfast to school now!” Veneer clapped excitedly.

“Seriously…” Vaughn looked at both of them, “What children did we raise?”

“Spoiled ones dad, spoiled ones.” Velvet smirked.

“Listen. It’s nothing like that. Though it’s something you can do all that stuff with.” Vivian said. The twins looked at her with confusion in their eyes. She handed them the tiny box, Velvet took it in her hands and opened it…. Her eyes shot wide…

“You’re kidding me!!”

Veneer peeked, “A stick? Is that a thermometer? There’s a plus sign. Does that mean someone is sick?”

“No Ven…” She eyes her parents, “This means mom is pregnant!”

“Surprise!” Vivian exclaimed.

A smile crossed Veneer's face, “Do I finally get to be a big brother?”

“Yes! Both of you have been promoted to older siblings!” She clapped her hands in excitement. Veneer squealed, hugging his mother.

Velvet shot a deadly glance at her dad, “Ew guys really!! At your age!”

Vaughn shrugged, “We still got it. Why not?”

“Gross dad! It’s called being careful! Being cautious! PROTECTION! Now I have to pay the price…”

“And here we go… the rant.” Vaughn cued.

“I had to deal with a little sibling for seventeen years!”

“Girl, you’re only three minutes older.”

“Regardless! Now I have to be seventeen years older to another little brat! Why do you guys make me suffer? Do you really hate me this much!”

Vivian pulled both her daughter and son into a hug, “So dramatic. I wonder where she gets that from.” She smirks towards her husband.

“No idea.”

“Our family is growing! I have trouble getting pregnant already, so being able to have a second time… it’s a miracle sweetheart.”

Velvet's anger simmered… it was true. Her mother called them her miracle babies after struggling for so long. The fact that she still was able to was amazing enough. She let out a heavy sigh.

“Fine… As long as it’s a girl.” Velvet pouted.

“I don’t care, I just wanna be the coolest big brother! Oh! Mom, dad can I please go shopping when you two go for baby stuff. Pleeeaaassseeee.” Veneer begged.

Vivian giggles, “Of course!”

Velvet glares at her father, punching him playfully in the arm, “Please calm yourself down next time old man.”

Vaughn couldn’t help but smile.

[d-lanx]

New WWE AU Idea: Newscaster AU

Ok, I need to put this down somewhere before it drives me insane. It's a stupidly niche AU idea but it's taking up so much brain power for me right now for some reason. It's a journalist AU where the WWE is a TV news channel. Details below the cut.

But basically I've been thinking about all the people who've been running the PLE pre & post shows & hosting PLEs this year a lot. And with the whole news-style interviews and sitting around on sets that often look like news studios, what if they were all actual reporters in a news channel? It's a bit of a weird one I know, but it's been rolling around in my head all weekend.

Btw I have no idea if USA news channels call their emplyees the same sort of titles as we have in the UK so excuse me if the job titles are a bit scuffed. But basically here's all the roles they have, why I chose those roles for them (in brackets), and what they get up to as part of this AU news channel:

Michael Cole: Senior Newsreader- (Because of his commentary work and journalism background). Out of all the people currently regularly on TV, he's been there the longest and is highly respected. Always trusted to keep a level head in times where the world feels like it's gone to hell.

Corey Graves: Business Correspondent- (Because he has a degree in marketing). Feel like he'd do a segment kinda like "The Martin Lewis Money Show" we have in the UK, where he goes through government changes to finance-related stuff, explains it and how it'll affect the average person, and then answers questions from a live studio audience and gives them advice.

Wade Barrett: Environmental Correspondent- (Because he has a degree in marine biology). I get the vibe his favourite animals are tiny and obscure things like a specific type of sea pickle on the verge of extinction or something and he defends them aggressively to get people to help save the species. Has memorised his evidence for global warming and can reel it off with ease, but is sick of having to do it so much cos people STILL DON'T BELIEVE IN IT????????

Pat McAfee: Sports Correspondent- (Do I even need to explain why? He's a mad man and I can't imagine him doing anything else, even out of a whole cast of people on a sports show like WWE). Feel like most people try to keep somewhat calm and professional on a news show, but he's just himself the whole way through, making him one of the most popular reporters on the whole channel because people want to see his OTT reactions to certain events. Feel like he'd also probably be in charge of the news station's radio show, too, what with how he has the Pat McAfee Show in real life.

Big E Langston: Political Correspondent- (He just gives me that vibe being all analytical about wrestling feuds). He's just as tired with politicians' nonsense as we all are, to the point it's hard to hide his dissappointment when they say something stupid and he has to remain unbiased. Never lets politicians get away with evasive answers when he interviews them, but smiles the whole time as he makes them wish they were never born.

CM Punk: War Correspondent- (The man is always scrapping for the love of the game, so of course he'd be in the centre of a war). He's had bombs dropped on his head more times than he can count and regularly goes for runs as a workout to make sure he's still fit enough to run for his life when he's in active warzones. Can tell you all about the complex international relations and battle strategies but secretly has a morbid interest in death & gore which is what actually got him into the job. Once got shot on live television, showed off the wound on camera and finished his broadcast before getting medical treatment. Was only mildly miffed about nearly dying, mostly excited by the whole experience.

Jackie Redmond: Justice Correspondent- (Basically her analyst role in WWE gives me the vibe of someone discussing a crime case). Can tell you all about how 17 people have been skinned alive and cannibalised in graphic detail so casually as if she's talking about the weather. At this point in her career, pretty much nothing can phase her. So if something actually manages to leave her speechless, you know it's bad.

Cathy Kelley: General Reporter- (Basically cos it's just what she's doing in WWE). Going wherever she needs to be to interview people and get to the bottom of a story. Has interviewed some really dangerous people that are twice her size all in the name of finding a good story and everyone's just like "for the love of god please think about ur own safety for once."

The Miz: Media Correspondent- (Cos of his reality TV background and generally over the top vibes). He'd be all over red carpet events and he's definitely still hoping to use his media journalism as some leverage to get into show-business himself. Celebs see him at events and pray they haven't been spotted so they don't have to talk to him, cos he can be a lot. But this little bastard has the eyes of a hawk and will hunt them down. Especially if he's persoanlly a big fan of them and their work.

R-Truth: Weatherman- (Cos he's a ray of sunshine :) ) Just imagine the batshit insanity of him telling people about a storm or how nice the weather's gonna be or something (I'm thinking like a Bob Hale skit on the original Horrible Histories, that kind of madness).

Sheamus: Tech Correspondent- (Cos he's a former IT technician so he can be all brainy). Constantly treated like IT support rather than a journalist and is sick of having to switch on servers people promised were already on, and listening to people with no idea what they're talking about prattle on about the benefits of AI. But at least he gets to talk about flying cars and robot dogs all day and muck about with new tech for a living.

Triple H: Editor In Chief- (Basically the top role in journalism to match with his current role in real life). Running things is like trying to herd cats, but hey, he can put on a pretty damn good show. Trying desperately to move on from the scandals of the days when the previous editor-in-chief was in charge of things.

Obviously some of them wouldn't be able to use their ring names in those environments. Plus I'm probably forgetting some people who should be in this AU that have been involved in pre/post shows, hosting, and commentary, but my brain's a bit too frazzled to go thru all the PLEs right now.

But like... come on... look at them and just imagine for a second... do you see the vision???? Or have I finally gone a bit mad??

LIKE JUST LOOK AT THEM!!

Also it gives me even more reasons to think about punk in suits <3

Also also if he were a war correspondent and had to go out into dangerous places, they'd make him wear gear which means more of this. vvv

Also CM Punk & Big E Langston are the two people I'm blaming for putting this AU in my head just so you know. Cos look at them!!

But also since punkintyre died, I've been reliving my sheamus/punk shipping days and just imagine sheamus waiting for his husband to come back from reporting in an active warzone and being worried for his safety (especially if he's been hurt before [whump time?]). And then all the excitement and relief when he gets back and giving each other special attention cos they were both so stressed and now they're just so happy to see each other again.

Also imagine Punk being inept with technology and needing help from tech savvy husband who's so proud that punk's finally learnt how to attach a file in an email. Punk probably sends Sheamus facebook minions memes and Sheamus despairs.

And then Punk excitedley explains all about battle strategies and war history and Sheamus excitedley explains back about the complexities of designing a self driving car or some shit. They're both just being massive nerds together. Even better when their interests overlap, like the design of tanks or something. Feel like they'd be talking for hours and everyone is like "guys come on, we have a show to run" but they're too busy with their hyperfixations (autistic sheapunk anyone? [is that what the ship name is??]).

Just think of the shipping potential!!

And this whole countdown show also was major inspo cos to me it just looks so much like a news show.

And these three just give me the vibe that E (being a political correspondent) would obviously be doing a show for the elections. And since law and war are both very close to politics, he'd get punk and jackie in to keep him company and the three would do an overnight show reporting on election results as they come in, chatting shit the entire time.

Btw I still don't know what this all means for the other WWE wrestlers. Defeats the point of using commentators and hosts if I also have all the wrestlers also being journalists. So maybe they can be the people featured in the news. All having "normal" jobs like politicians and military and scientists and shit. And these guys can be reporting on their nonsense and bullying them in interviews.

I feel like I could add more people to it, like having ring announcers as general news readers, and Shawn Michaels, Adam Pearce and Nick Aldis as editors or something. And I'm probably forgetting other people who hosted PLEs or were presenters on pre/post shows, and other commentators. So there'll be plenty more that could be added.

Sorry about the info dump but I needed to put this somewhere. I'm not the only one seeing the vision on this am I????

[soft-persephone]

Writing Club

A request by @nerdieforpedro featuring a snippet of her own writing!! So in a way, it’s a collab!💞🫶🏾

WC: 1.9k //T-M: Read at your own risk. (Just a tiny snippet of smut. Very tiny, but it’s there) // fluff, extra soft but it’s Nick Miller soft // masterlist

Nick pulled at the collar of the polo he was wearing.

It was Schmidt’s.

It was too new and too bright in color. Nothing at all like his well worn, loved and used shirts he used too. He wasn’t a complete animal and knew how to take care of his clothes.

“It’s mint green,” Schmidt said apologetically as he handed it to him.

Nick was only half listening, as he took the shirt from Schmidt before he finally realized what he said. “What?” He turned his nose up in disgust, undoubtedly frowning.

“What are you sorry for?” He was genuinely confused.

“Mint green is a spring color!” Schmidt immediately raised his voice to an excruciating level of annoying, “we all know spring colors wash you out! You’re a natural fall!” He waved his hands to emphasize his point.

“Why are you yelling at me?!”

“I just want you to know fall colors make you pop and really flatter the natural glow of your skin! They make your eyes shine!”

“Stop yelling at me!” Nick turned to walk out the door. Taking a breath, he turned around, “Thank you for saying that stuff about my eyes and the colors and stuff, man. I’ve been feeling kinda down about my look lately.”

“You're welcome.” Schmidt nodded and spoke at a normal voice level, and put his hand over his heart. “If you ever want to talk about your look,” he put a hand on Nick’s shoulder, “I will always have the time.”

It would have never been his first choice, at least it had sleeves, even if a bit tight, he wasn’t in the mood to have his arms out. It was a pretty slow night and he didn’t have to worry about fetching any kegs throughout this shift.

It’s going to be an easy day.

He knocked on the wood of the bar. Just in case.

“Hey, do you work here?” A scrawny guy with medium length hair, hipster glasses, and red checkered flannel interrupted his thoughts.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Nick replied casually, throwing the bar towel over his shoulder.

“Do you guys happen to allow meetings or like, group gatherings and stuff.”

“On Thursday nights we have a group of women in here for a book club and wine. Is it something like that?” Nick would have asked if it was a nerd thing like Dungeons and Dragons, but he didn't want to be rude. However, this guy did look like the kids who played when he was growing up.

“Yeah, could we come later today around 7pm? Or is that too early?”

“It's fine man. I’ll set up a space for you guys at 6:30. If I run out of time, “6:45 at the latest.”

The day went by fast and he had the table set up in no time. Luckily for these guys it was a slow night, so it wouldn’t be getting too loud or rowdy throughout the evening for whatever this group was planning to do here.

So far there were only three at the tables he had set up together, and there weren't any weird looking board games or dice pulled out yet, so it was definitely no, to the Dungeons and Dragons thing.

Some had laptops and some had ipads, but they weren't talking to each other at all. One by one they arrived, pulled out a device of some kind, someone even opting out of that part and only using a notebook and a pen. What was going on?

He had to investigate this.

“Uh. . . .Does anyone want a drink?”

“Oh Right, this is a bar.” a curly redhead laughed and few other people at the table.

Weirdos.

Coming back with their drinks, not because he is nice, but because he’s bored and he still has questions.

“What kind of club is this? None of you guys have been looking at each other or talked once.’

“Uh. . .” the red head looked around at everybody else. Two refused to look up, and some were looking just as squirly as Red was.

"It's fanfiction.”

That's when Nick noticed you.

“Cool.'' Nick said it matter of factly and everyone stopped to stare at him.

Fuck, did he say something wrong.

“Or not cool?”

“You’re a writer?” Red looked him up and down.

"And you all look like a bunch of weird nerds who play board games and make believe, but I wasn't going to say that because I'm not a terrible person who judges people, but if you wanna get nasty then we can get nasty about it.”

She put her hands up in defeat and a few people around the table chuckled.

“Sorry about Ashley” glasses from earlier interjected with a wave, “She’s moody and defensive. . .and sensitive.”

“What are you working on?” you interrupted again, this time catching his full attention.

There was something about you. It made his hands sweaty and his heart beat way too fast.

‘Yeah– uh– no, it's. . . a novel.” He watched as you continued to type on our laptop. How you pouted a little as you concentrated. “Zombie detective, Julius Pepperwood.” He didn't feel so comfortable giving the whole spiel as he would with his friends. He barely let them read it,so it would be even more difficult to get a stranger to, but you did pipe out something about fanfiction. He could get behind that.

“I wrote a walking dead fanfiction a while back and I've never gotten another pair of eyes on it. Is there something you guys do here for that? For reading people's stuff?

“Yeah, man, that's what Ivan here is for.” glasses lapped another guy on the back with a grin.

“Sounds like a plan. I get off in 40 minutes.”

That's when he found himself next to you with his legal pad and a gold pencil.

You turned to him with an odd look.

“You can’t be serious.”

There was something cute about the way you looked at him with such perplexed reverence.

“What?” he asked. Still confused despite thinking about how cute you were.

You tsked, grabbing your bag before digging around in it. You practically threw a pen at him.

“Thanks.”

Nick jotted out the plot of the next chapter of his novel. He wasn’t planning on doing any writing around these guys just yet. Besides, they all used fancy laptops, and he didn't know how to feel about that. They seemed too trusting of modern technology.

“NIck, this is dark.” Ivan pushed away the notebook of his old work.

“It's The Walking Dead.”

‘You delve into Rick and Shane’s past, and make their regular lives seem so awful before the virus hits. You’re SHane is way too depressed and . . . its just so fucked up.”

Nick sucked in a breath. He didn’t want to get in too deep about the specifics.

‘It's not dark. . . it's real. Who’s to say that who Rick and Shane became in the apocalypse is who they've been their entire lives. It just took the world ending to see that.” He uncomfortably shrugged his shoulders for emphasis and took a swig of his beer.

“Zombies suck.”

“Ashly!” glasses gave her a lick before apologizing to NIck.

Nick waved him off and shook his head.

“Don’t mind her.” you whispered to him, “All she writes is the same hurt comfort scenario 50 million times like we haven't read it before. I don't even think she notices!”

That made Nick laugh, and you gave him a funny look. Your eyes widen a bit before you push your glasses back onto your face and go back to typing.

“How about you?” it came out way too low and grumbly. He cleared his throat and coughed a little.

Then you looked back at him with a small “hmm.” made his heart flutter. He had to tighten his grip on his beer bottle to keep his toes from curling in his boots.

“What do you write?”

You practically shoved your screen in front of him, moving a little too quickly.

“woah,” he chuckled, “slow down! I promise I'm not going anywhere.”

The Mandalorian did not allow you to finish before he pulled you into his lap as he had done many times before. . . .

That was cool. He liked Star Wars. Kinda. . .He knew of it, but he could take it or leave it, but he wouldn’t tell you that. Maybe if it had zombies?

only this time, he spread your legs wide, exposing the sopping mess that was your pussy. Your hands found his broad back, pulling yourself close to him, but he took hold of your hips once more and lifted you up, lining your folds with his cock again and pulled you down, plunging his full thickness within you at once. The sensation caused another orgasim and he allowed you to lay your head on his shoulder, caressing your back as he warmed within you.

“Maker, you’re the perfect place to be Sard’ika. I’ll mold you to my cock. I’ll keep making you sing.” Din licked your ear as he spoke, then kissed your neck. Now you were the one humming softly, but that wasn’t enough. It was much too quiet.

“Let me hear you, Cyar’ika. You’ll give me another song and squeeze won’t you?” His teasing voice was even worse unmodulated and on your neck, his lips marking the words into your skin. It had you continuing to drip on his cock, he felt your walls quivering so he chose that time to thrust upward, moving his large hands under your knees to better lift you.

Your nails scratched his back up and down as he rutted upward, the only thing you were capable of saying was his name, repeatedly and in increasing volume. Eventually your hands made their way back to his beautiful chocolate curls, pulling on them. You felt the rush of blood downward, knowing that you were going to climax again, however this time, Din was looking up at you, his brow drenched in sweat, furrowed and his mouth agape.

Deep brown eyes studying your slack jaw as it formed a smile. He began giving your staggered thrusts before you felt the heat, though not your own. It was his, Din had spread his spend inside of you coating your walls, he called your name as your cunt milked him your all it could, the two of your rigid bodies frozen together before crashing in the middle of the bed. Din did not pull out of you though.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Nick gave you back your laptop. His eyebrows raising high on his forehead, “What kind of fanfiction are you writing?” He scoffed out a laugh of schock.

“Wouldn't you like to know, vanilla?”

“VANILLA?” Nick scoffed for eat this time.

“Let me tell you lady, you don't know me. There’s nothing vanilla about me.’

“Maybe not about you,” you studied him, “but definitely in your writing.”

This got a lot of ooohs from the table.

“Well prepare to eat those words next week.”

Nick bit the end of his pen in thought.

It was long overdue for Julius and Night to have a special encounter, but he didn’t quite know where to take it, but after reading your little story, he had more than enough ideas.

The Shed.

[tassodelmiele]

Noisy little mess

Hi sweetie⁓

I've made it! That's the last part, we've finally got some old good nsfw stuff and I'm so proud I've managed to finish this little work of mine.

So happy, I'm already doing something else.

Life's so messy these days, why don't just make it messier?

CoDdammit.

Thank you all, whoever has enjoyed this time together with the Task Force! Eat chocolate and have a nice whatever you're doing⁓

DISCLAIMERS: FINALLY SOME NSFW (i've promised you); not so much dom/sub (Ghosty didn't want it); Gaz's about to throw himself (or a random someone) out of a window; Price is done being the psychologist (he doesn't show, but he's always here watching you); Soap's so excited about everything (i love him); you've a master degree on how-to-deal-with- embarrassment at this poin.

..........................................

Eighth part here:

..........................................

Next day, he has to change his shirt twice, since the bandages seem not enough to stop the bloodstream from the open wound on his hip; and youare running around the base with a long sleeved shirt with a turtleneck, trying so suspiciously hard to go unnoticed, that everyone decides to to notice you.

With "everyone" I refer to Soap and Gaz.

They try to avoid your sight (since Price had almost threatened them not to stick their nose again between whatever is happening to you and Ghost), but…they're not that great at it. And, as usual, everything ends up in the oddest sort of symposium in front of your lunch, with the audience (those two old spinster men) waiting for Cicero (you) to spit out a persuasive oration.

You're not gonna tell every detail. 

You definitely don't tell them how everything had started in Ghost's office, with the brand-new door used as a pinning wall, with you pressed on the wooden surface and every will to endure drifted away from your synapsis.

You're not telling this. 

But dear lord, if your body trembles at the memory of his hands pushing your hips still on the door, raising toward your body to trace every curve and muscle, from the belly to the throat. Your neck skin still bursts with the tattoo of his digits, your tights harden while recalling his hand splitting them open and pushing against your crotch, while you try to give him instructions to go slower.

He's not a good listener, though.

And when Gaz is too shocked to ask what in the actual fuck you're telling them (Soap asks at his place), you can just bury your head in your shoulder, face burning red and cuticles digged by your nails, while you start with a ridiculous:

«It wasn't my fault» 

…

«Liar»

«Listen-»

«As false…» fingers pushed harder through the clothes, making you whimper «…as Judas» he ends, burning hot hair in your ear.

You do remember the pose: it's not the first time he pins you on this door, it's not the first time he dominates your tiny figure with every inch of his body, one hand clenched on your throat and the other between your trembling legs.

«You started» you mutter, eyes squeezed in an attempt to not focus on your throbbing clit «at the gym. It was you who-»

And his hand rises to your mouth, gloved palm pressed as gently as possible on your swollen lips.

«You're not taking this seriously enough, doll»

Hand moves to grab you by the cheeks, squeezing your whole face. He lowers on you like a starving eagle on a mouse, and now you can hear clear how scattered his breath is as he harshly whispers behind that goddamn balaclava:

«Shut that pretty mouth of yours, or 'm gonna find a better use of it. 'K?»

You just nod, watery eyes staring at him as you're melting in his hands. 

He mutters: «Good girl»

And you almost faint from the arousal.

«Wanna show me how well yar master trained ya?»

He suddenly releases your crotch from his pressure, grabs your hand, and pushes it on your needy cunt. He crouches down in front of you, eyes on your pretty flustered face and certainly a satisfied smile on his covered face.

«Touch yourself for me»

Heartbeats race in a run to your lower belly while your hand just moves by itself, following the order so religiously you even get rid of the belt and open the pants zipper before digging into your panties and submerging your fingers in a goddamn, slippery lake.

You groan a moany whisper; your legs start to tremble instantly and Ghost just grabs you by the tights, pulling your whole body toward him and almost lays his face on your hand-on-mission.

His breath gets through the balaclava, coming out so hot that it almost burns the cloth.

«Yeah doll, show me how ya do it, how ya want it done»

Your fingers slip on your clit so fast, too fast, and you start to breathe with moans. Legs tighten under his grip, you end up needing to cling to his shoulder, grabbing his muscle with the free hand and squeezing it, trying not to fall. You're so close it hurts; your body knots every nerve in a sudden shiver, tightening limbs and lungs, your back is arched and you're almost on your tiptoes from how tense you are. 

But it's not the right position. You know you can't finish standing, it's not stable enough for you to come, and that frightening thought is what makes you pathetically whimper:

«Please sir I-I need…need to-I can't do it if…please make me-»

«You're fully grown, babe» is his answer, blown on your throbbing cunt, brushed on your wet panties. «Know ya can do it»

Your head shakes like hell, and you're tempted to stop, since the tension is growing unbearable in your nerves.

Your voice squeaks so needy: «please…!»

And Ghost, who absolutely knows you're gonna start crying anytime soon, decides it's the right time to help you: and you suddenly feel two gloved fingers move aside your panties and soak deep through your juices, stirring, pushing and pulling in the clenched hole that's tightening so painfully.

His lips touch your hand above the underwear, putting a small kiss on it through the black fabric on his face. 

«Keep on, doll»

His fingers stuff you deeper, rubbing the spot that's so easy to find since your cunt is goddamn tight.

«Come for me»

That's an order, so gently whispered you think you've just dreamed it; but you follow it anyway, eyes so watery they're almost dripping tears of arousal as you rub your clit that's pulsing painfully. Ghost pushes his digits on your walls, moving them inside while muttering things you're not catching. At one point you think you've blabbered something about slowing the pace", but maybe you're hallucinating since he forcefully pulls his fingers out, making your whole body throb, just to get them inside again in a repeated motion that makes you feel empty and full at the same time, as if he's trying to blow you up like a goddamn balloon.

Then your moans get uncontrollable: you cling more onto him, bending your torso and arching it back again as he stops his fingers' movements and digs them in again, focusing on your little button inside.

You squirm a fucking loud moan, letting out everything you've got on his hand crushed inside your tightened walls. Your legs tremble like hell, while lungs try to start working again, making your chest pump big breaths. 

You really think you're gonna faint this time, when you feel his hand grabbing your hips, lifting you up and pinning you against the wall one more time. 

Ghost guides your legs to clench around his body, and as soon as he literally bites your neck you realize he's somehow lifted his mask, and you're not even watching the first glimpse of his face he's showing since ever.

And he pushes. He pushes against you, letting his crotch collide between your legs, letting you feel the grown bulge inside his livery while you whine and cry moans, a little too overstimulated.

You finally manage to collect enough air to mutter: «slow down- fuck-I can't…do again-»

He digs his teeth in your neck harder, till he hears you squirm. Then he almost throws you on the floor, adjusts himself over you, succeeds somehow in lowering trousers and underwear on both of you, and lets himself inside all at once.

Your cunt throbs, tightening again all of a sudden, and the skin around your poor entrance just screams pain all around as he starts to move aggressively fast, caging you on the floor with your legs split and sore.

You try to cling to him, grasping his biceps, but he grabs your wrists like they're made of tissue paper and pins them with one hand, pulling them over your head.

You lift your sight, for whatever reason.

And you see him looking at you with hazel eyes dirtied in black body paint, curved in the most vulnerable and scary expression you've ever seen at once, while his lips are shown under the mask lifted to his nose, thin and slightly open, scratched in tiny scars that you just wanna count and redraw in a map.

He's not making a single sound, and what makes you aware he's about to come is the tightened grip on your wrists and the deeper movements, that end in a soft, blown, hot breath buried on your cheek as his face slowly clings to your neck's hollow, and he releases your hands.

Your palms run at his cheeks without thinking. But he suddenly slips out of your touch, raising his body away from you.

Too fast, though.

And in the hoarseness of running away from your fingers, he forgets that he's still inside of you.

And he ends up coming out fast and at the worst angle possible, tearing away your still-twitching inside and his dick at once.

…

Soap's almost squeezing the whole bottle of water.

«How-»

«Soap no-» Gaz tries to stop him.

But it's too late, and the man just asks with the most confused look ever: «How the hell does Ghost's wounds-»

«I punched him» you rush out. 

«Oh….'cause of the-»

«The pain, yes, he did hurt me»

«Sooo…ye hadn't liked it?»

Gaz's about to cry from the embarrassment, face buried in his hands and chair that's slightly slithering away from you two. 

But it seems like embarrassment is something that doesn't bother you that much anymore. You shake your shoulders, sighing: «Of fucking course I've liked it»

«Then what's the bloody problem?»

«Well, maybe he could have been more…gentle?»

«The day on which I'll see a gentle Ghost, I'll know universe is fucked up so bad»

«Ok ok, but, look -and I'm being, like, totally honest»

Soap mutters: «Aha», a monosyllabic answer to make you go on, while Gaz digs his mouth into the last spoonful of his lunch, mumbling: «Bloody Jesus» through the chew.

You gift 'em ten seconds of silence, just for suspense's purposes, before blowing:

«I've thought my first time would be kinda different»

Gaz almost chokes on the food.

Soap slammed the empty, already crushed water bottle on the table.

«W H A T»

«…What?»

«Ye'r tellin' me he's the first-»

«Well, yeah…?» you frown. «Why the fuck are you so surprised?»

«Dunno laddie» and Johnny's totally sarcastic at this point. «Knowing ye played so much 'round it, we thought-»

«Around what? What-what kinda mental alembics are you implying?»

«Can we» Gaz raises his voice a little «not talking 'bout it in a bloody crowded room?»

Soap shuts him: «At this point I need to know»

You suddenly feel under inquisition.

«Your brain is pretty fried, Soap»

«You've never had sex before?»

The question is so unexpected and awaited at the same time that you just can't choke an honest: «Yes», blushed and munched. 

Soap's eyes are melting outside orbits.

«But the goddamn submissive thing-»

«You weren't supposed to know 'bout it» you burst out, blowing your cheeks and crossing your arms, even if you do know well Price knew everything, and, for some kinda osmosis properties also the rest of the Task Force did from the start.

Johnny's hand waves at you, scattering your complaints in the air.

«How in the bloody hell you've never fuck with your…master, dom, your…whatever»

«It wasn't a matter of fuck!»

«Don't tell me ye sipped tea with him, 'm not buying it»

«It was something different- it doesn't matter, goddammit Johnny». You suddenly stand, red in the face while Soap seems to be thrilled by your speech, and you know well he's capable of making you spit every bit of what you're trying not to tell about your past kink life.

«If you're interested» you mutter «you could just find a Milf with some big tiddies who spoils you»

«Hope ya don't expect me to spoil you»

You jump, with a: «F U C K» shouted out so loud.

Ghost's leaning on you. His judgmental eyes are piercing your blushed cheeks from the skull mask. 

One of his big hands ends on your head, patting your hair while you're trying to collect some sensible muttering.

«Meeting's in five minutes»

His hand lowers slowly, fingers clench gently on the back of your neck, giving you a bursting, totally visible shiver that makes Gaz turn his sight and Soap smile like an idiot, while Ghost's having so much fun doing his duty of making you flustered.

His mouth reaches your ear, whispering almost inaudibly: 

«That's for the wound. It hurts, ya know? So, next time, let's try to be nicer and avoid dick moves. 'K doll?»

You're thinking about yelling out how much of the fault belongs to him, and that if he didn't have that fear of you looking at his face, the wound wouldn't reopen and your inside wouldn't still be hurting.

You could do it, you could shout it out.

But you don't.

You just nod, automatically, brushing your clothed neck on his glove, eyes lowered and tights tensed.

He smiles. 'Cause you know he's doing it.

«Seems like I've tamed you at the end, noisy little mess⁓»

..........................................

[feverinfeveroutfic]

The Hungry Lion Throws Itself on the Antelope | Kinktober 2024 | “Imodium”

prompt: ate too fast

pairing: alex/portia

word count: 2510

song: “curmudgeon” by nirvana

I awoke the next morning to the feeling of Portia’s head still rested upon my belly, still with the feeling that I had become a pillow of sorts for her. I lifted my head for a better look at her through the gray morning light as well as my own blurred vision, and all I could see was the crown of her purple hair, that big blossom of soft lilac against my flesh. I blinked my eyes a few times before I lay my head back down and let out a low whistle. I lay there with my head down on the bed and my arms extended up over me.

There was a part of me that no idea as to what to do right then, especially since she was still sound asleep. She rested her hand in my right hip, and her palm ran along the crest. It gave me such a strange feeling, something that I could not believe that I would ever feel in my life. Her fingers crept and crawled along the softest part of my belly, and it made me think of a girl holding a teddy bear.

I rested there with one hand placed upon my brow, and I wondered as to what I could say to her once she woke up.

Her hands did feel good on me, however: the feeling of her hand on me, and the way that her fingers curled over my body left me wanting more of the feeling as time went on between the two of us. I shifted my weight underneath her, which was enough for her to groan in her throat and then run her hands over my bare, exposed belly. The cold of the house kissed my skin, while her fingers glided over me like she was stirring up some fresh dough.

There was something oddly satisfying about it, and something oddly gorgeous, too.

I could feel her lifting her head from me, and then I dropped my gaze down to her again. That time, she had woken up and was currently giving me a little massage on my belly. I shifted my weight on the bed, which in turn made her smile at me.

“This is… really weird,” I admitted to her.

“It’s easy to think this when it’s something you’ve never heard of before,” she assured me with a gentle tickle of her fingers on my belly. “But it’s just something that I feel, though. I have always been drawn to the middle of the body. It’s underrated and a tender spot, too.” It gave me a slight pit in my stomach, a feeling I had never really felt before with someone else.

“I have a question for you,” she began again. “And shame on me for not asking you this before, but is this something that you’re comfortable with? Me holding you and touching you and wanting to feel your guts more than anything?”

I swallowed at that. It was something that I had no idea as to how to approach, or even gave any thought to whatsoever.

“I guess it’s good to try new things,” I answered with a shrug of my shoulders. “I don’t really know how to do this, if I’m honest. All I know about sex is your basic penetration and also the oral stuff.”

“Oh, you’ve got so much to learn!” she quipped at me, and I wondered as to what I could do in all of this. We already did these tiny things that felt like nods to it, but I had a morbid curiosity as to how far this would go in between us.

“I’ll be gentle, too,” she assured me as she ran the tip of her finger around the rim of my belly button. “I’ll be gentle and if you wanna stop at any time, like if you’re uncomfortable or anything like that, then I’ll stop.”

I sighed through my nose. It almost felt like I was about partake in something significant, and something I wasn’t all too sure about, either, given it was such an unknown to me. I worried about this whole thing spiraling out of control, especially when I met Portia not all that long ago. But I had already said that it was good to try new things.

It didn’t help that the feeling of her fingers on my skin only sent shivers up my spine. It tickled me and made my toes curl a bit, and yet it felt so wrong at the same time. I had no idea if it was my own response or the fact that she was touching me in such a way that her fingertips felt akin to feathers.

“I am going to tell you this, though,” I started to her. “I’m… a little neurotic, if I’m honest. A little obsessive about the shape of my body.”

Portia bowed her head at me and showed me a little smirk.

“We’ll be careful about that,” she vowed to me. “I’ll especially be careful about that.”

Portia lightly patted me, and then she sat up over me. Her tired eyes gazed on at me, and a stray lock of lilac hair drifted over her face, down over the bridge of her nose, and she gave her hair a slight toss back. She then crawled over me to be face to face with me.

“Care for some breakfast?” she offered me.

“I would love some breakfast, yes,” I said, and she pecked the tip of my nose, and she climbed off of me. Once she was out of the bedroom, I rubbed my eyes with both of my hands, and I sat up in bed. The hem of my shirt raised up and showed off a good sliver of my belly. Maybe she was onto something here with me, and maybe I was onto something, too.

I climbed out of bed and made my way to the little bathroom right there off to the side, and I thought about the thing that I had suggested to her the day before. I knew I was in too deep when I pressed my elbows against the sides of my body and held onto myself.

I was really there in her house. She and I were in fact alone together.

Once I had finished and washed my hands, I decided to walk into the kitchen with nothing more than my shirt and shorts on, and I regretted it almost immediately. The chills shot up my bare legs, and I shivered all throughout my body.

But I was curious as to what Portia had in mind for me that morning, however, especially when all I could see was the very back of her head there by the counter and all I could hear was the metal whisk against the bottom of a bowl. Then again, I was cold. Then again, I wanted to show her my bare legs.

Nothing more than my jacket on over my body and my legs out in the open, out in the cold of the house.

I stepped into the narrow kitchen to find her before the shiny black stove with a pair of red skillets: the one on the left had some sausage links at the bottom while her body blocked my view of the other one. She peered back at me with a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face.

I spotted the waffle iron on the counter next to her, and the little red light which showed that she was making me Belgian waffles.

“Man, you work quick,” I remarked to her.

“I’ve done it all enough times for my parents and my friends that it’s all incredibly easy,” she assured me as she nudged the links next to her.

“Thank you for making sausage and not bacon, too,” I told her as I took my spot at the bar right behind the sink. I fixed the lapels of my jacket and ran my fingers through my hair. She turned over a link and brought her attention to me once again, still with a twinkle in her eye.

“Sorry it’s so cold in here,” she said. “I don’t know why you’d make a house up on a hill that has no insulation in the walls and a furnace that only sort of works.”

“Can’t imagine what it must be like here in the summer time,” I confessed.

“Oh, it sucks! A couple of summers ago, we had a bad heat wave come in. A full week and a half of it being close to a hundred degrees up here, and my parents and I were stripped down to our underwear. It should make sense that we like to be down in San Diego for a good portion of the year.”

“I don’t blame you one bit,” I said, and she turned to the cupboard next to her, and she took out a pair of light pink plates for the two of us. She picked off four links for me and four for herself; the smell alone was enough to make me even hungrier.

“Okay, now, question,” she started again. “How do you like your scrambled eggs?”

“Some pepper and a little bit of hot sauce,” I replied.

“Hot sauce! Heh, just like my friend R.J.” She smiled and stepped over to the fridge. “In fact, I always keep a little bottle on hand just in case he comes over for breakfast. I don’t know how hot you like your sauce, but this is more… I’d say ‘piquant.’” She took out the little dark green bottle from the inside of the fridge door, and then she showed me the plate of scrambled eggs, which had a light dusting of pepper over the top, as well as the four sausages, all of which were perfectly brown and crispy all around.

“Say ‘when’,” she advised me, and she dribbled a few drops of dark red sauce over the middle part of the eggs.

“A little more,” I told her, and she gave me some more sauce on another side of the eggs. “More.” A few more drops. “That’ll do.” I showed her a little smile, and even more so when she reached behind her and picked up a small handful of grated Cheddar cheese. It was so cold in that kitchen, so cold in fact that I worried about the eggs cooling off far too much. And yet I wanted to relish the flavor of them, in the pepper and the grated cheese on top.

I tucked a bite of eggs into my mouth and let them stay there on my tongue for a few seconds before I began properly digesting them. Portia kept up at the sausage in the skillet as well as the Belgian waffles.

“Care for some fruit on the waffles?” she asked me with a twinkle in her eye and a little lap of her tongue at me.

“Yes, please,” I replied, and I showed her a little smirk all the while. I shoveled in more scrambled eggs as she picked up the tongs and picked out the waffle from the iron. I watched her cover the waffle with a towel and put it into the oven next to her plate of food to keep it all warm against the cold of the house.

The eggs were delicious but they began to cool off a great deal from the moment Portia took them out from the pan. 

I quickly ate up the sausage by the time the second waffle came off the iron, and at that point, I was ready for more. She took the one waffle out from the oven and placed the second one on top, and she schmeared a bit of butter over both. She followed it up with some fresh blackberries from the crisper drawer of the fridge, followed by a sprinkling of powdered sugar.

I felt like a little boy on the morning of Rosh Hashanah again with those waffles, and I worried about them cooling off too much as well. Portia herself, meanwhile, waited for her waffles as she calmly and slowly ate her breakfast; I couldn’t get it into my mouth faster. The berries, the butter, and the sugar all combined and coalesced once they hit my tongue; the butter was smooth, while juice from the berries seemed to cascade down my throat. The waffles themselves were tender and light.

I was quickly feeling full. And I knew I had eaten too quickly once my stomach began to ache a bit. But I pressed on. I pressed on and rested my fork on the edge of the plate.

“My goodness, you were hungry!” she remarked once she tucked her waffle into the oven.

“Phew, goddamn,” I muttered to myself with my hand clasped onto the crown of my head. A slim little belly and yet I felt as though I had a big heavy sack on me. I grimaced at the slight discomfort from within.

“Did you like it?” she asked me, slightly taken aback.

“Oh, I loved it! It’s just—”

“What?”

“I think I ate too fast,” I confessed to her in a low voice. I shifted my weight and spread my legs wide open. I kept my arms up so I could lean back against the back of the stool. She then showed me a little smile as she polished off her sausage links and took the waffle out from the iron.

“What’s that look for?” I asked her.

“Nothing, I’m just… thinking is all,” she confessed. “Thinking about how adorable you look right about now.”

“Adorable?” I echoed her. “Me?”

She served herself a pair of Belgian waffles, complete with the butter, the fresh berries, and the powdered sugar on top.

“You know what can help with a tummyache like that?”

“What’s that?”

“When I’m done here, let me gently rub your belly,” she confessed.

“Oh, god… I don’t know if I can take that,” I admitted to her.

“It’ll be nice, I promise,” she assured me as she sloughed off a bite of waffle. She ate her food slowly, and I knew it was to relish in every part of it all. I began to regret every part of what I did right then in eating too quickly. But she licked the tines of her fork after finishing the rest of the berries, and then she rounded the edge of the bar towards me.

She rubbed her hands together and lifted the hem of my shirt for me.

Carefully, she began with her fingers on my lower belly and then into a tight spiral right in the middle. I relaxed every inch of my body.

“That actually does feel good,” I confessed to her. I couldn’t believe that I ate too quickly, but I also had this wonderful feeling here, my own personal antacid. Portia leaned into my face for a kiss on the side, and I wondered if there was in fact something to this.

[truedairship]

Tell me more about your horse, please?

Ooohh boy never ask someone about their horse or they won’t shut up. Okay. I have no idea how much you know about horses, so I’ll try to keep the horse terms to a minimum.

Getting her is a bit of a funny story really. And kind of relevant. But background info: Us mere mortals can’t afford horses competing at the higher levels. Your only chance is basically to buy a promising youngster, train them yourself and hope that the stars align and that in a few years you can compete at the level you wanted. But most of those horses are quite expensive as well. Everybody wants those with good blood for a reason (blood = lineage, breed, how reactive yada yada).

I wasn’t even gonna buy a horse back then because I knew I would be moving abroad a year later, and I already had my pony. (Whom I had considered selling to afford a horse but whatever). Anyways, I helped my trainer break in her youngsters, they got an extended summer break after, and come winter she called me and asked if I wanted C. Because they didn’t get along. She had been a… special cookie… to break in, but an incredibly fun one. So yeah. I got a good horse real cheap because she’s crazy.

She’s… well, she’s a brat. A stubborn, explosive bitch that’s too damn smart for her own good and the biggest goddamn drama queen the world has ever seen. She’s also one of the most hardworking, powerful and talented horses I’ve ever ridden. Her teenage years were eventful to say the least, and it has been a lot of work to teach her some proper manners. I could probably fill a book with all the stupid stunts she’s pulled over the years. But at the same time, that’s kind of the charm. You never have a boring day with her.

Despite her attitude and the drama, she’s genuinely very kind. She just doesn’t show it if she doesn’t have to😅 But she never wants to drop her rider, I’ve only fallen off because we stumbled over an xc-jump and she almost did a somersault. And while she usually is too impatient to stand still, whenever there’s small kids around she won’t move a leg, but you can see her literally twitching because that is tiny human. Must not move. Tiny human fragile, stepping on will injure. She was also the one who accompanied youngsters on their first forest hacks at my old job, because, while hacking out usually is a rollercoaster ride of jumping away from invisible monsters hiding behind stones (thoroughbreds in my heart<3), when the kiddos came with, she was super cool and they could even run into her and she didn’t even bat an eye. Because they are her adopted siblings now and Ohana means family.

So yeah. She has quite the personality but this is already getting long. And when it comes to riding, well, attempting to avoid using technical terms, you can teach just about any horse to move fancy, but riding a horse that does it naturally is just something else. She does everything with such ease and such power. And she loves to learn new stuff, which to me is the most important part. I’d rather ride an eager horse with zero talent than an unmotivated one. Because having to force them to work… nope.

Generally with horses, if you have a bad day, it’s 50/50 whether you’ll have one of the nicest rides of your life because the horse notices that you’re not at your best, or you’ll have what feels like the worst one ever because nothing works and the horse decides that if you’re not gonna try your best, they won’t either. 9/10 times, she’s the first type (and considering that we sometimes can spend the entire warmup discussing whether the chair in the corner will eat us or not, that’s saying something)

That’s also kind of why I’m selling her. I don’t have the time to ride her everyday. So when I do, she’s super duper happy and energetic and it makes me feel all guilty that I can’t ride her more. And it breaks my heart every time she comes running towards me in the field all eager, only for me to give her a pat and a carrot then leave (makes me feel like a parent that doesn’t have time for their kid so they spoil them with toys instead😅). I usually give her a kiss on the nose as a goodbye, but lately she refuses to let me do it unless I have ridden her first. And no, that’s not an exaggeration.

Tl;dr: She’s a bitch, she’s amazing, she drives me crazy and she’s my best friend. Being allowed to ride her is an honour. (and unfortunately she’s aware of that😆)

[gisellelx]

What signifies a good fic to you? What is it about your favorite fics that made you like them?

This Q has been sitting a little while but this post on my dash today made me think of it.

Anne Lamott has always been one of my all time favorite writers; I read Bird by Bird in middle school, and I used to talk about her a great deal with my irreverent, very witty, funny role model 9th grade English teacher. This is how I write, and have always written (you'll note that my profile on FFnet and the name of my tumblr both come from her.

I write from character. What I understand myself to be doing as a writer is giving life to characters, whether they are mine, or someone else's. It's getting to know someone, intimately--what is their biggest fear? What is the thing they most love? What are their hopes and dreams? What is their fatal flaw?

I wrote my own stuff for many, many years before starting to write fic, and my reason for writing and reading fic is from exactly that same root. I want to see the same characters from the source, and I want to see them in a way that sheds new and interesting light on who they are. This is a major part of why I don't write, and generally don't read, out-of-universe fic--I'm just not interested in reading about a generic human lead with some characteristics of Edward Cullen. I want to see an author show me something I didn't see before about Edward. My favorite fics do that. By virtue of the situation the characters are in, or the alternate POV they are from, I see something different about the characters, their dynamic with one another, the things they care about most. Going through my FFnet faves to give a couple of examples of what I mean. Going to stick to one-shots so they are easy to grab (which is most of my faves)

Three Men and a Baby by Kristen Elizabeth.

Stephenie Meyer doesn't give a rat's ass about the fact that other people in the family probably also would've liked to have a kid. She sets up this horrific backstory for Esme but then waves it under the rug with "oh well she has her vampire kids now." This story grapples a little bit with how Edward's siblings (and importantly his male siblings!) deal with their own feelings--it sheds interesting light on all four Cullen men through their interactions with an infant Renesmee.

Mamihlanpinatapai by Writing Ficariously

Edward as a father. Enough said. But also thinking in a more complicated way about Renesmee growing up with Jacob around, and how she feels about her parents' relationship and its perfection. This is a running theme that is even more beautifully explored in A Federation of Cassandras but with that one you're signing on for a full (very excellent) novel so beware.

Caterpillar Wine by gallantcorkscrews

Nobody in this fic is with the people they are with in canon and yet. It really thinks hard about the permanence and lack thereof of relationships, questions that canon brings up and never answers. Most haunting to me in this, with a tiny spoiler, is that Carlisle ends up alone, which is revealing in this particular scenario and very in character in my opinion.

Funny that all of these recs happen to at least loosely contain Renesmee--I think she does important work in revealing a lot about others' characterizations. I find her to be an immensely useful character to think and write about.

Anyway. For me, it all comes down to character. Always down to character. With the tiny add on that my brain frustratingly won't let me not be a snob about the writing--I notice how the words work on a page, and if the author has made a homonym error, if the narration is too much "tell" or the characters are saying things for the reader's benefit. I would like to not have that problem, because I have a great appreciation for the fact that there are many people learning about writing itself by writing fanfiction. But I find it difficult to get myself lost in the story the writer wants to tell when my brain is noticing the writing itself instead. So that's always a piece of it, too.

[theunstuffedpepper]

First of all, I’m currently sitting in a massage pedicure chair with my toes soaking. I think I finally found a good spot in our new town. Bless.

So much has been going on and honestly, all of it good.

House stuff. I mentioned it briefly, but I’m so stoked that I’ll say it again: our old house is SOLD. Off the market. We no longer own it. It’s someone else’s problem. Since getting the offer in December-ish I looked so forward to closing day and finally saying goodbye. It’s more or less sunken in now, that we no longer need to worry about the dead tree in the yard possibly falling or running back to that house 1.5 hours away because of some repair.

Financial stuff. The sale of the old house has given us such breathing room financially, I can’t even begin to explain. As the half of the marriage that does the bills, this has done wonders for my stress and mental health. What a profound relief. We’re already considering future investments and plans, but mostly I just want to enjoy this for a few months.

Work stuff. I won’t say much on it, but someone reached out to me with a potential interesting opportunity and I’ll be interviewing this week. All good vibes accepted.

Toddler stuff. Pep is growing and blooming and his vocabulary is expanding in such fun ways. The other day, he and B were heading to the park and B asked him if he wanted to give mommy a kiss goodbye. He turned around and came back for a smooch, then went to head to the car. A few steps into his walk to the car, he turned around again and said “one more.” and his little tush turned around to give me a second kiss goodbye. I mean… my heart.

Baby stuff. We had the anatomy scan (because I’m officially 20 weeks!) yesterday and B got to come along. My parents took the day off and came to watch Pep while we went to the scan together. It was so lovely, and most important, everything is looking normal and healthy. Tiny man is 14oz.. almost a pound. The kicks and flutters are more common now and I’m loving the reassurance of feeling him rolling around.

Home improvement stuff. The plan was always to finish off 1/2 of our unfinished basement area which was used for storage and use that newly finished room as my office/an extra couch-pullout bed space/workout space. B has started on that project and it’s coming along quickly (partly thanks to help from my dad). Looking forward to my new home office having a window!

While it’s not really part of my “good stuff” inventory, I’ve of course got my share of grief stuff too. My brain understands that I’m pregnant and yet I’m still pretty solidly in denial of actually raising two happy babes together because of everything we’ve been through. I can’t picture it. I want it so badly but I guess on some level I don’t want to let myself believe in it completely. Aside from that, I have gotten notably worse at reaching out to people. I also get annoyed/angry easily - there’s a lot of internal regulation that happens all day, every day. My memory still sucks, but general recall has gotten easier. I’m exhausted daily. How much of that is pregnancy vs grief vs general human stuff, who knows. I think daily about starting therapy again. I probably will soon, because I want that support in place for labor, delivery, and the postpartum journey.

Trying to focus on the good, and it’s been abundant lately.

[marypsue]

There are. So so many reasons why feeding someone's fic to an AI is a shitty thing to do. The simplest argument I can think of for the people who don't seem to give a shit about the other ethical concerns is this--

When I bake a cake, I pay for all my ingredients and equipment. I pay for the electricity to run the oven and the water and the flour and the eggs. It would be stealing if I used someone's flour without them offering or me asking, and it would still be stealing if I used flour someone else stole and used it in my cake (without checking where they got the flour from or asking for a receipt.

If AI is using artwork and fics as "ingredients" for remixes of those same works, if it is baking a generated cake with my artistic ingredients, then I should either:

(A). Be asked if I will give my ingredients (art/writing) to the company for AI training for free. When I say no, they should ask me to name a fair price or rate. If we agree to terms and conditions they use my works for training and I get money.

(B) Give the ingredients (art/writing) to them for free out of my own volition. For some reason.

People wonder why we are angry. We are angry because this is the equivalent of someone stealing a car you built from scratch from your front yard, handing it to a scrap shop, and smiling as they watch the scrap shop deconstruct it and use the parts for a different car we aren't allowed to drive.

Like I'll be the first to admit, I don't understand all the ins and outs of how the programming works. But I sure as fuck know that I was never asked if I wanted to provide training material for the datasets - and no, just because it's on the internet, does not provide a blanket permission to use it for anything. And whether or not it's strictly possible to get good work out of the machine yet, publishing houses and television networks and basically everyone else and their dog are still fucking slavering to completely eliminate the job of 'writer' by using the thing that was trained, in part, on my work. They're already undervaluing and undercutting the jobs they absolutely can't replace.

Even if my work is a tiny, tiny piece of that, it's still a piece of that, it's still being used right now to make opportunities for writers disappear. And if, in the face of that, I say, "hey, could you please not take stuff I made (including, for example, new userlocked stories posted to the Archive which definitely have not yet been scraped) and feed it into the machine that people are trying to use to eliminate me?" and you still feed the stuff I made into the machine?

You're being an asshole. End of.

[nii-chans-rabiddogs]

Kennels

TWs: Dehumanization, muzzles, collars, restraints. Sorry it took so long, but have fun <3

@cupcakes-and-pain @maracujatangerine

It’s been a bit since I was left here, and I spent the first long while just trying not to cry. I’m scared and insulted and really wanna leave, but I dunno how to undo the latch, and I can’t try right now anyways. A buncha people keep walking through the door to the hall, but none of them say anything or even glance over when they pass by. They’d put me right back in if I got out, which is rude. They all have the same type of outfit though, which actually looks okay-ish. There are so many pockets, and they all have earpieces and some of them have special gloves, but those ones are also carrying some stuff in boxes. Whatever it was, there’s a lot of it, cuz they keep bringing in more and more, while another couple of people watch and type stuff on tablets, before talking into their earpieces. They said something about shipments and gear, but I can’t hear much of it. 

Another person walks by, and she’s wearing a really cool purple cape. One of the carrier people called her Royal, which was a cool name, but I’m not sure how you get Royal from the color purple. Actually, her entire costume was purple, but the main part of it looked black at first cuz of how dark it was. Her boots are dark purple, but not as dark as the body part. Her gloves are really bright though, and they shimmer like they’re almost reflective. Royal looked straight forward as she walked through the kennels, talking to one of the tablet guys about finding a new dealer for PowerSurge gear. Apparently, the old one went to meet his husband, but I don’t know why they haveta get a new dealer if he’s just visiting his husband. Maybe they just got married and went on their honeymoon? Wait, why do so many people try to put honey on the moon? And only after they get married? There’s no reason, and I don’t think normal people can afford a trip to the moon, that sounds really super expensive. Maybe- oh,what?

A group of carriers just called Seren out. She leans out to them from the backroom, barely glancing at them before nodding and grabbing her keychain from somewhere. Royal steps back to let her through, and she walks out to the kennel on my right, unlatching it and stepping back while the carriers grab the animal from under the little dog house thingie it was in. It looked like a mix of a very tiny tiger and lion, but wrong, like someone had stitched together two different stuffed animals badly. The carriers pick it up, placing it in a large cage and padlocking it shut. They slap a sticker on it, before a tablet guy types something and nods. The carriers lift up the kennel and bring it back out. It was all really quiet, barely anyone saying anything, and Seren looked bored. 

“We’re locating a new dealer, so expect a minor delay in mass shipments. Customs aren’t affected. You’ll be notified when a new dealer has been selected and approved.” Royal said, voice sounding as emotionless as a rock. She stared at Seren the entire time, making eye contact until Seren nodded. How can someone make eye contact that long, doesn’t it hurt? Royal snapped her fingers and all the carriers and tablet guys that are left started grabbing their stuff and leaving. No one said anything else, and I really wish I could ask questions, or at least mess with something. It feels like my blood is electrified, but I can’t move or talk or do anything and it's the worst. I shook my arms a little bit, but it didn’t help and just irritated my wrists. I really wish I was with detective or Skyrise or Monsoon right now, they wouldn’t do anything to me or make me sit still. They’d let me run and wiggle and shake my hands around as much as I wanted, and they yelled at the one mean guy who told me I needed to have quiet hands, but I dunno what he meant but that. Monsoon got really angry when I mentioned it, so maybe it was an insult? But why? And how would you quiet your hands, they already don’t make much noise unless you’re slamming them on stuff or clapping, and I wasn’t. It was very confusing, so I just walked away from him. 

Oh yeah, I remembered a bit of before I woke up, when everything was spinny. Doctor Everly said it was a quiet hospital, but he lied to me which is rude and mean and he should be the one wearing this stupid muzzle if he’s gonna lie like that. But I don’t know what those rooms were, and I don’t ever wanna go back in them, cuz they were super cold and scary. I shivered, and tucked my arms closer to my body again, wishing the supercuffs were just normal handcuffs. If they were I’d be able to make the lights go out with a real big shock. It wouldn’t help I don’t think, but it would be fun to watch people scramble around in the dark. I also woulda shocked the Doctor and Seren, too, cuz they’re mean and scary and I don’t like them at all. 

“Alright pup, here’s the deal. Hunter is determined to keep you no matter what happens in your little interrogation, so we are goin’ to try out some gear for the few hours you have until he gets done with business. Behave yourself and you might get some treats, puppy.” Seren called out suddenly, walking out with a lead rope meant for strays.

She unlatched the kennel door, and I shrunk back again. I glared at her, but it didn’t do anything except make her chuckle. I tried to stay as far away as I could, but she shot her hand out to grab my ankle and yank me towards her. I panicked and whined as my head hit the floor, while she looped the lead over my head and tugged until it was snug against my neck. I tried to wriggle and push her away, but she just grabbed my hands and yanked me into the air like I was a piece of paper. I don’t like this, and now my head hurts and she’s scary and she’s gonna hurt me and-

“Aw, puppy, no need to look so scared. We’re just trying out some training gear, okay? No need for the teary eyes or breath holdin’, pup. This is happening no matter what, and it would be easier if you just listened to me.” 

I immediately shook my head, cuz Doctor lied and she might be lying too and I don’t wanna go with her cuz she’ll hurt me or yell at me or- Ack! I choked as Seren suddenly yanked the lead forward, and stumbled forward a couple of steps. I looked at her with wide eyes, shaking a little bit, and she raised her eyebrow. She pulled on the lead so I took another step cuz I didn’t wanna choke again cuz that was really scary and I’d end up back in the warehouse with Detective yelling at me and, and he’d be really mad and- no, don’t think about that, just- Just follow Seren, and then there’s no choking or yanking and you won't go back, right?

I whined and shook my head, following behind Seren as she slowly took us to the backroom. There’s a lot of weird vests, and all sorts of collars and leashes and muzzles on hooks on one wall. The wall on the right had some gray cabinets, and underneath them there’s a table with some remotes and bags of snacks and treats. Set in the floor are some loops, but they’re cut weird and kinda look like a heavy metal carabiner. Seren hooked me to the one closest to the hooks on the walls, and I had to sit down so I wouldn’t choke. She grabbed a collar that was all metal and looked really heavy, that had a loop in the front, and I ducked my head down a little cuz it looked scary. She pressed something and it beeped once, then lit up two lines on the inside of the collar. Seren nodded, grabbing a remote and messing with the two until they both beeped a couple of times, then pocketing the remote and turning back to me. I shook my head again, trying to shrink into myself but she just sighed and stopped right in front of me. I stayed curled as small as I could, but I couldn’t stop shaking. She didn’t do anything for a couple of seconds, and sighed before saying:

“You’re a real anxious pup, ain’t ya? If it makes you feel any better, Hunter said I’m not allowed to hurt you at all. Not even a papercut. I wouldn’t anyways, but now it’s enforced by an order. Now, he also wants you to be wearing all the… corrective gear, and this is one of them. I know the collar looks a little scary, but it’s just like those power-suppressing cuffs. That’s all it does, puppy. If you sit up for me, I’ll even swap out the muzzle for something a little nicer, yeah?”

I wanna shake my head again, but the muzzle is also really tight and makes my jaw ache a bit… But the collar is also really scary and it might hurt. Maybe, maybe she isn’t lying? She- if Hunter said she couldn’t hurt me then she’d be alotta trouble if she did, so she can’t, right? I huffed, before very very slowly sitting up. I stayed curled down, but only a little and I haven’t stopped shaking. She lifted my head up, and I flinched back but she just tightened her grip to keep me in place. I whimpered and tried to pull my head away a little, but she was already undoing the first weird collar, so I just froze. She pulled it off, and slid the heavy one around before adjusting it to rest a little bit above my shoulders. She pulled it tight, and finally let go of my head to walk around and click it closed. She fiddled with it for a second and there was another click, and she stepped back. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad. Let’s get a harness and leash on you, then I’ll swap the muzzles and give you a treat, puppy. Give me your hands, I need to take off the cuffs for this part.” She commanded, walking back around and crouching in front of me. I hesitated, then reluctantly held my wrists out to her. She twisted them weirdly for a second, then they clicked and fell into her hand. 

I stared at my wrists, trying to figure out how she unlocked them, cuz she didn't pull out a key or anything, just twisted it. I rubbed my wrists a little bit, and looked back up at her. She grabbed a weird vest, apparently a harness, and a leash that was bright yellow and said “NERVOUS” in big letters. I folded my arms into my stomach as she came back, trying not to curl into a ball again. She pulled the stray-lead towards herself, and loosened until she could pull it off and set it to the side. She grabbed the harness, and undid a bunch of buckles and a zipper on the harness, then made me lift my arms up a little bit. She placed it on my chest and slid four of the buckles over my shoulders, and the ones on the sides around to the back. Two of the four she buckled just under the heavy collar from the front, then moved to the back and zipped the harness closed. She tugged it up a little to clip to the other two buckles over my shoulders to hold the harness up. I heard three clicks as she closed the rest of the buckles on the back, and I moved my shoulders around as I got used to the almost too-tight harness. It was kinda like a vest, with fabric all around, but there was a strap over my chest with a D-ring, and it wasn’t that hot.

She took the leash and clipped it onto the ring on the front of the collar, which was already feeling too heavy, and slipped the handle end around her wrist. She hummed and tugged here and there on everything, before asking if anything hurt or rubbed anywhere. I slowly shook my head.

“That’s good, I don’t need to order too many customs. If anything gets too small, starts to hurt, or rubs wrong then tell me ASAP, understood? Good. Now, let’s swap those muzzles, and get you a little treat, yeah, puppy? You want a treat?” She teased as she reached behind and undid the muzzle.

It slipped off, and I immediately yawned, trying to stretch my jaw. She slipped the handle to the leash into the spot where the lead used to be, then stepped over to grab a muzzle that was all wires, with a bit of padding here and there. I rubbed my jaw, watching as she adjusted the straps. She grabbed a small bag of chocolates that I didn’t see before, and walked back over. I perked up and stared at the chocolates while trying to make my throat less dry, and she laughed.

“Aw, you like chocolate? I thought that was bad for puppies? You must be a very odd puppy if you can eat these.” She taunted, shaking the bag. I tried to respond but just ended up coughing.

She set the bag down, and waited for me to stop coughing before listing my head and putting the muzzle on. It settled on my face, the padding being the only thing between my face and the metal. It was a lot looser than the one before, and I could still talk without gaining bruises. 

“Ca-an… Can I have some- some water?” I rasped, barely audible.

“Sorry, pup, but you have to wait. Only treats for now. You’ll get some when Hunter is ready to see you.” She responded, pulling open the bag of chocolates.

I frowned, and opened my mouth to say something else when she held a chocolate in the air and interrupted me.

“Open up, puppy! A treat just for you!” She jeered, waving the chocolate in front of me. I blushed in humiliation, but opened my mouth as she told me to, and she dropped it between the wires of the muzzle into my mouth. 

“Good boy! You’re such a pretty puppy, so well behaved. Very good boy” She praised, and I ducked my head down. She was treating me like I was just a dumb little puppy and it was humiliating but I haven’t eaten since the day before Hunter grabbed me from the warehouse, and I was too hungry to refuse. She gave me a few more, before putting them away and setting them back on the table. She reached under the table and tugged out a box, pulling out a bunch of weird gear I can’t identify.

“Alright, puppy, this is some of the training gear we’ll be trying out. We’ll be here for the next hour just about, so just work with me. We have three more boxes after this one, so let’s get this down as quickly as possible.” She explained, and I sighed and curled back into a ball. This is going to be an absolutely embarrassing hour, I just know it.

[autismbleakness]

I’m just rambling about some stuff that’s happened with me lately - please scroll by if that’s not what you want to read right now.

I found out today that someone I once considered a friend actually has me blocked. I haven’t spoken with them in months, so I’m not entirely sure what happened but I suppose it was nice to have the illusion for a while that things just petered out, and it wasn’t some big fallout that made things go silent. I suppose it must have been that for them. I would apologize for what I did to hurt them, but they never told me what that was, and for the life of me I can’t figure it out. I don’t think I’m blameless, though - I’m sure I did something. I always do. Luckily, this doesn’t affect my plans much - I decided a while back that if the friend group I had fell through, I wouldn’t try again. This friend was just the last remaining straggler after everyone else left too. I still love all of them. Some part of me will always consider them my friends, even if they hate me and I’m not welcome in their lives. I’m respecting those wishes and staying far away, but if they came back to me I’d accept them without a second thought, and I know this because it already happened with a different friend. They re-disappeared just before my birthday too, so I assume whatever happened must have happened then. I’m getting lonely again too. It’s been awful lately. I want to tell people about the things I like, have them experience them with me, I want people to show they care about me, I want to feel loved, genuinely, by someone outside of my immediate family. I want to feel like a person again, but that’s really hard knowing I can’t ever let my guard down and put myself in the position I got into before, because what will I do when they come to hate me too? It’s been a rollercoaster. It hasn’t all been so dismal. I’ve been talking to somebody online in a new community I’m in, and they have a habit of being very honest and blunt, which I appreciate because it lessens the guessing games with them, but sometimes that bluntness can hurt me too. They go from telling me I’m sweet, to saying they can only ‘tolerate’ so much of my antics, to telling me my antics are precious, and I’m stuck in the middle asking “Which is it? Am I someone precious and sweet to you, or a presence you tolerate?” I’m a mess about it - on one hand, my singular braincell has decided this has to be a crush because this someone was nice to me a little bit, and I’m enjoying the feeling of infatuation making me grin and giggle and kick my legs and flap my hands from the giddiness it gives me when we banter because oh, have I longed for someone who can engage in a battle of wits with me on the same wavelength! On the other, I can’t let myself be drawn into that sort of hopeless romantic situation just because someone showed me a teeny tiny bit of affection and I know this is something that will only hurt me in the long run, so I need it to stop soon. I don’t know if they know and are pretending not to have realized what’s going on, or if they genuinely haven’t figured out that I’m not normally like this with other people. I don’t know which I’d prefer. Thank you for reading.

[aroaessidhe]

I mean, I do see where you’re coming from with the blurb thing, especially with how that poll was worded, but the majority of people I see actually complaining about the phenomenon are talking specifically about the ways books are recommended. Again I agree with you that I prefer it’s mentioned somewhere because I like to know (though sometimes being surprised by it in a book where I didn’t expect it is a delight), but if someone lists a bunch of books only by what kind of rep it has I won’t go personally googling every single book on the list simply because it’s gay, because my time is limited and there are some genres I won’t be interested in no matter what, so I prefer rec lists that as a minimum includes the genre, preferably also tone and basic plot (is it a mystery? a romance?). Not sending this to try and argue with you, just hoping to clarify where a lot of people are coming from!

I get that, but it's still a big ol overexaggeration imo! Most of the time when people are doing brief bullet point rec lists it is in the context of an age range/genre, or some other more specific element anyway? and if it includes the cover (which most do) you also will have a genre/age/tone indication (aside from the occasional book with a cover that badly communicates content).

like every time I see anything remotely like this it is always either a) "lesbian mystery books:" [showing just the cover of 10+ books] intending a broad selection to just pique someone's interest, and communicate the fact that these books have lesbian MCs to people who may not have been aware of that (and btw adding a sentence or two on every single one is a LOT of effort, especially in video format - and the op probably ALSO does longform reviews of individual books) or b) "check out this aroace YA fantasy!" <- minimial wordcount which includes genre/tone as briefly as it does any 'rep'

and then you have c) which is like a teenager who discovered a book that reflects their experience for the first time and they're excitedly talking about it just in the context of that element, which if you're mad about.......okay. (or sometimes you'll see a list of 'queer books' and it is the most random broad combination of genres, tones, age ranges - which is very clearly just someone new to reading queer books the only things they've read and enjoyed so far. those make me giggle a little.)

I often see books like 10 times on social media of just the cover and basic info that's used in all promo & am vaguely interested but don't see anything about it that might stand out. And then will see ONE post of '"books with the 'older grumpy person accidentally adopting an orphan' trope" and am like OKAY i'm intrigued - that is the purpose of these sorts of posts! telling you MORE than what the basic age/genre/plot/tone is! (and yes in the context of identity too, I can know about a book for months before finding out it has aspec characters and I run a database dedicated to that)

There are people that talk about books badly and clumsily everywhere, in every form of communication (tweets, GR reviews, tiktoks, whatever). I absolutely see reviews and stuff ppl say about books all the time where I am like OOF why are you only mentioning x without the context that it's only a tiny part of the book, or without mentioning some other significant thing.

But the idea that people are only ever saying 'heres x book, it's gay!' and never talking about anything else or doing any reviews is just not as common as people claim and shows no understanding of the wider context of the book community or the function of different ways of discussing or promoting books!!

[handelplayssims]

Reaper's Rewards - Week 6, Part 1

...I can’t stay away. Not when there’s a task list dangling in front of me when I pop into other files. Did skip ahead to the next day with the Goth family though. We’ve been replaying that Friday too many days! Bella worked and had a munch out by herself. Alex continued with talking to plants and I sorted out the researching ambrosia on another file. TO THE NEXT DAY. But first!

Neighborhood Watch!

San Myshuno: The Zeigler household moved out.

Oasis Springs: The Fujita household recently moved in.

SAVE. Might want to remember to do that this each day. Also we got a slumber party scheduled this day.

...really good idea I saved because hey, game crashed as I was trying to get Alexander to cook.

...aaaand all goals reset. At least I can research ambrosia. Game is buggy! Plants also didn’t grow. -grumble- Orchid first day and then NEVER AGAIN.

Right so once again, I am back to delaying until my pomegrante plant can grow and I get an Orchid. Or else cheat. Feeling and feeling more like cheating as time goes on but give it an in-game week, give it an in-game week. Right so, another slumber party at 7PM. Time to delay until then.

Hmmm. Alexander wants to plant things but we really don’t have the space around this place anymore to do that. Well, unless I want to tear down even more of the pre-made bush and greenery but eh. Let’s see. There is a little garden plot nearby I wonder what plants are in bloom. A pear and oh! Some roses! That would actually work real well with the gardening stuff around those bushes. Let’s get some. Next time also, gather up some lilies and plant them. It would be a good idea to have a few of those around the park as well.

Geoffrey needs to advise someone for his aspiration. Let’s go with Sione Hoapili and...he’s a klepto. We’re going to head off to the park. Successfully advised. Now I don’t have much more to do with Geoffrey. I’m having Alexander research the plants in a planter box and Venus play on the pirate ship. Oh! Garden Gnomes are here! Might as well have Alexander say hi to Moria and join up! It is the gardening + fishing club and what has Alexander been super into lately into that!

Also Geoffrey met Hector Laurent. Turns out, Hector is cheerful, family-oriented, and outgoing. A perfect new friend for Geoffrey and for Bella! Might as well say, “go say hello to my wife!” for that social thing. Let’s see, all three have done enough for their park business. Let’s head home!

...oh snap. We have prom and we asked Alexander’s date out to prom. Weeeeeelp. That’s gonna be bad. Shame I can’t send him to prom off-screen. RIP Prom but you happen every week. It’s time for slumber party!

Chatter is easy enough, let’s have some Sims play a party game. It’s time for Don’t Wake the Llama! Jenga is a pretty good party game, all things considered. Set-up be murder though.

Hmm. All we have is cookies. The cookies are from a previous part and- CUPCAKES! Hell yeah cupcake time. Thank you, cupcakes being free from the cupcake maker!

Hmm, after doing some other things, the sleeping bags were moderately set up. But alas, not everyone was alseep on them. Ah well. This is a haunted house after all. Some would take interest in the ghosties and the butlers.

...and some like Besty, just want to beeline for the tv and wake everyone up! GO TO SLEEP TINY CHILD!

Party isn’t done but it’s time for-!

Neighborhood Watch!

Glimmerbrook: The Cynthia and Ammy household recently moved out.

Dang, no revisiting them at some point.

Windenburg: The Guzman household moved out.

Cherry tree is in full bloom! Let’s graft an apple shoot onto it. And thus, we shall get a spliced pomegranate tree! ...don’t need it but I’d rather not hold onto this spliced plant forever.

...Besty, I don’t trust you heading to the living room! Bella! Run interference! Have her play a game with you! Gold party completed! Next we’ll do the playtime captian for Venus. Should be easy enough since I am more than enough skilled for it. ...though we’re going to need to stick to being in a playful moodlet. That’ll be fun.

Alright, at 10:30, all the kids have finally left the party! It’s time for Bella and Geoffrey to have a museum date! Been ignoring Bella’s aspiration for too long so it’s her turn for the social events. Man, I do want Lovestruck. I am sick and tired of base game dates and want something different and fresh! But that’s another time. Anyway, flirtatious actions and paintings have been viewed! Man, I need to go more museums in real life. It’s so much more fun than doing it in the Sims.

Let’s see, date’s done, let’s have Geoffrey advise on friends and- oh man the artist club is here. Unfortunately, all of the artist club is famous painters and artists so I can’t just say hello! Fan hanging around it is then.

...ooh! And Geoffrey got a random phone call asking for advice so he’s one away from finishing this apriation! Let’s talk to someone and give advice! Ohp, several of the artists managed to say hello as well, including local artist Alice Kim-Spencer! Let’s have her say hello to Bella ...OH IT’S 20 INSTEAD OF 10. Makes sense. This is supposed to last for awhile.

Ooooh, we got the materalistic pop up for Geoffrey. Probably for looking at all that expensive art! ...also nah. Geoffrey is a nice guy who doesn’t care about things! Despite the fact he’s surrounded by things and married into wealth twice over. HMMMMMMM. Mmmmm, still will go with nah. Well Bella needs to go piss and she’s closer to the library and gym than the museum. Let’s go have her work out.

….annnd the death flower thing vanished again. BLARGH. I’m just going to assume it’s travelling to too many lots or something. Ah well. I’ll return home, save, then quit. Been too long anyway. Ohp, local gym trainer said hello, might as well nab a donation from Cooper as we take his training. He’s a lactose intolerant active dance machine. Sounds like a fun guy!

Alright, food and then bed for everyone!

...DANG! One lily from my spliced flowering plant! -angry grumbles even more- Well let’s take a break for today and leave with-

Neighborhood Watch!

Nothing of note has happened recently. Check back tomorrow.

[passingideasofaredballoon]

Change

I’m currently on the plane home after my first semester ended. It’s been a while since I’ve written something. Let’s write.

It’s been a while since my thoughts disappeared. I mean, I still have thoughts of course. Just not as many, and none as interesting as before. When I used to see people and wonder things about them, or take my own experience in my head and run it around in my brain until it meant something.

I think those parts of me had something to do with how I perceived time. I didn’t used to just experience moments, I used to know them. I used to think about them and collect them, grow them into experiences, and know them like a favourite book I’ve paged through a million times. Maybe my lack of memory, my feeling of just moving through the time, holding onto nothing, has something to do with this.

My first semester is over. Four months of a new life.

It’s wildly interesting to me because I’ve never had a new life before. For my entire existence, I’ve lived in the same place. With the same people, in the same room, looking out the same window every day. Going to the same place. I didn’t know it could all change so fast, and more than that, that it could all feel so normal so fast. This summer as I left, I piled my belongings into boxes full of junk I’d collected over the years. I placed it in a new room, wondering how I could ever feel home in a place that I didn’t grow up in, haven’t spent years in. But as I left my new room this morning, unplugging all the lights, I realized I’d miss it. I realized all my stuff lives somewhere else now. I thought of how quickly I moved in, wondering when I’d be able to get back home, and then suddenly it was like I’d lived there all my life.

Experiences are scary for me. Especially going through so many at once. I remember walking down the streets of Montreal the first time, as my parents told me to go pick up my student ID in August. I’d never walked down foreign city streets alone. Heart pounding. My first plane trip alone at Thanksgiving. I thought I’d have to be older to know how to do things like that, but suddenly, you realize you are older. And then it’s easy. These are things you’ve done all the time.

It’s weird how last year at this time, I spent the break dreading being alone. Writing grade 12 essays, hoping I could get someone to drive me to the pharmacy to pick up shampoo. I felt caged. I felt like nothing.

It frustrates me to look in the mirror and feel like nothing’s changed. To see my hair and my face. That I didn’t explode into some white swan over the four months I’ve been away. But I forget that I’m more now, because all the newness feels normal. Normal enough that I have to remind myself I wear sweaters I love and I picked out myself, ever day. And that I have a student ID, a little room key, for my own room, and a MTL metro card in the holder on the back of my phone. My card says “Faculty of Science”. That I have special beers in my fridge. That I own a tiny blue kettle. That the most texted contacts in my phone are all new people, asking me to go to quesada for dinner. That I have posters of Harry Potter, My Neighbour Totoro, Flaming Lips, and Back to the Future on my walls. Not just inside my closet where my mom can’t see.

And then I have moments where I realize it really is that different. Moments where I look up at the basketball net of the field house, a moment of calm during my physics final, and a sense of smallness envelops me. I’m back in the gym of my high school, waiting to walk out after my grade 9 exams. Basketball hoops all look the same. But this time, it’s the first final season where I’m not walking home with the same people I’ve always walked out with. The last day of term doesn’t have a moment, waiting for the bus, everyone in Christmas sweaters holding their secret Santa gifts. The thing about your life never changing is that the moments you love come again and again, in ways you can always count on. It’s cruel to give someone so much stability, imply a routine for so long, then suddenly take it away. I’ve never experienced such a heartbreak. The idea that I’ll never have those moments again is something that floors me, often.

I don’t know if it’s normal, to feel this sad all the time. To carry with me the knowledge that your time will never reset. You’re a human, carrying around countless memories you love, knowing they’ll never be real again. Your best friend’s face, whispering during a sleepover on New Year’s Eve. I don’t want to get older, because as many new moments I make, the more sadness I carry with me. Is growing up just acknowledging you become more and more torn between your lives, broken up by memories, and weighed down by that knowledge? That to experience good things fully, you’re trading a future moment of heartbreak when you realize you can never go back? Or do most people just think forward?

When I was younger, I never understood why people cried over movies. Or when people in movies cried after a breakup. “It’s not that sad! Just get a new boyfriend” I thought.

I understand now.

People are really messed up. As a kid, I couldn’t imagine having a nice birthday party and being sad it was over. I think it has something to do with being smart, looking at that experience and realizing, “huh, wait, if it happened, then that means…it’s gone now”. We get more upset the more things we realize, and when you grow, you learn to realize a lot. To think while you gain experiences means to mourn them too. Humans make a moment in the present become linked to the moments in the past. We string together thoughts and memories and emotions like song lyrics, placing them in order until they make us sad. Happy too, but most often, sad. I’m a victim of it especially, maybe more so than others. I have a talent for amplifying feelings that don’t need to be amplified, until small sadnesses feel like large bubbles of goo running through my whole body and I can’t leave the floor. Even though we don’t need to, to survive, we do it. We make ourselves more messed up just for the sake of life. Part of being a human means being a little messed up. And it’s hard to acknowledge the weight of that will never go away. That’s why people cry during movies.

Little kids don’t know this. Neither do some people. They say the ignorant are the happiest, and I agree.

But I’m trying my best, and that’s something I’m proud of. When you get trapped in the past like I do, you forget that real love exists in the future as well. That those days you loved were real before they were memories. That you can still make more. That you can embrace the worst days of your life, wishing you were back in the “good old ones” because the good old days of your future may be tomorrow. It’s hard to feel like good things are coming your way when you struggle to realize you still exist. But you do. So you keep reminding. You lose some and you win some. You feel some days more that others that you’re real again.

Days of watching your first concert. Falling asleep in the arms of someone you love, with a movie on in the background. When random people come play mariokart in your room. Your first full day at the library, followed by a walk in a twinkly Christmas market. Coming home for Christmas. It’s all real. And I love it.

If I had known this time last year, that these would be part of who I am now, I wouldn’t believe you.

So be.

I may not feel that all the time, but damn am I learning. And it’s worth it.