#this reblog was an excuse for me to ramble have a good day to any who reads this

[plan-3-tmars]

I still think about this btw like GOD DAMN they're so alike

listening to the land is inhospitable and so are we is making me realise how similar kazui and arthur lester are and it's making me question my taste in characters

[itscherrylipsforme]

Paper cuts and cheek kisses: Minho tmr x Med jack!fem!reader

Summary: Minho was never one to go the med jacks' cabin often. On the contrary actually, you had to drag him into it whenever he got hurt in order to patch him up. Oh girl, but things changed when you two started dating, and now he comes up with the silliest excuses just to see your face. At least being his fave med jack means some special treatment

Warnings: None, except that Minho is madly in love and reader is slightly sarcastic (got it from her mother, aka me)

Requested: yes

Words: Around 1300

Author's rambles: As someone who had the biggest crush on Minho growing up (Who I want to fool with this? I still do) and who imagined her role in the Maze would be med jack this request was so cute to write. Hope you like it!

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Everyone needed to prove their worth in the maze, from the youngest and oldest boys to you, the only girl. And being honest, your passed that test with excellent marks. Living in a place full of the most stubborn and reckless shanks you have ever known (not that you remembered meeting anyone before them, but that was not the point) proving that you were strong enough wasn’t a choice, but a need. However, most of them shown them a new kind of strength they hadn’t seem until then. The strength you used to calm Chuck down when he was crying during his first night in the glazeThe strength which was necessary to always be the one who introduced first to new greenies, to do it with a sincere smile as saying “Yeah, this place is a clunk, but it’s our clunk. Our place”. The same one that helped you become a med-jack.

You loved your role, somehow you were really good at it as the girl you were before being trapped there had some knowledge about it. But you would be lying if you said it didn’t have its downsides, one of them being… Well, him.

“Minho, slinthead, go to the med-jack's cabin right now. That cut doesn’t look good” you demanded as soon as you saw him on the gardens talking with Newt after he came back from the maze.

“Nice to see you too, princess” That condescending pet names he used on you, you swear one day your eyes would fall from your face just because of the times you had rolled them. Since your first day you had to deal with his teasing (not flirting, as you had corrected Newt when he asked about it once) “And don’t worry, Clint and Jeff already saw it and told me it was fine as long as I cleaned today in the shower”

“Clint and Jeff only let you get away with no treating any of your wound properly because they are scared you will fight them if they said otherwise” You crossed your arms “Unfortunately for you, you don’t have the same effect on me. To the cabin, now. I will be the one who binds it”

“You are lucky I can’t say no to you, darling” He started following you towards the med-jack’s, not without smiling sheepishly first.

Sitting in the hammock, Minho looked at your face as you gently rubbed a cotton soaked in iodine. So focused on your work and yet so beautiful, he thought to himself. He was enjoying the view, but your words snapped him from his thoughts.

“Can I ask why the hell you never want us to see your injuries?”

“Pretty girl, you are smart, way more than me, but you don’t get me. It’s not that I don’t want you to do your job, I have my reasons for it” He smirked, if he wasn’t so stupid sometimes you would admit he looked handsome right now.

“Please, enlighten me” You turned around to look for the necessary equipment to patch him up.

“Do you know that before you arrived, I never protested when it came to the med-jacks? That Clint or Jeff would treat me, and I wouldn’t utter a word?”

“If that is your way of saying that I am bad at my job, you should be more careful. Do I have to remind you that I am the one here who has a scalpel nearby?”

You were so done with his shit, if you remembered right there was a phrase that said something like “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you” and same way he shouldn’t annoy the person who was responsible for his health. The scalpel thing was a joke, more or less, but you were starting to rethink it.

“Not really darling” He chuckled, and you found yourself liking the sound of it “Maybe I just convinced Clint and Jeff to wait to heal this because I knew you wouldn’t want me to be injured. So, you would take me then and I would get to spend some time with my favourite med-jack”

“You are unbearable” And you were completely sure you mean what you said, but you couldn’t bring yourself not to smile at his silly plan “Please, tell me you didn’t get the cut just to see me” You asked while wrapping his strong (Were you thinking about that right now? Really?) arm with the bandage.

“You shouldn’t think too low of me, y/n” He shook his head “The injury was an accident, Newt came up with the plan when he saw it on the Garden”

“I knew that you couldn’t come up with all of that on your own” You smirked and stared at him. Had his eyes always been that deep or was the light that passed through the windows what made them look like that? ���By the way, the patch up is done, just be sure you don’t drench it and come her to change it every two days until it scars. I would also recommend that you take a day off running, but you would ignore me anyway, and I won’t waste my saliva”

“You look really good when you are mad at someone, has anyone ever told you that?” He blurted out, not even thinking it twice, and he was surprised when instead of telling him to fuck off you blushed. Neither of you had expected it. You needed a few seconds to recover your mind and your ability to speak.

“Whatever, you can go now” You hadn’t realized how close you had been to him until then “Come on, what are you expecting? A good job sticker or something?”

“I have a better plan in mind” Another smirk, his hands guiding yours to rest on his shoulders, his comfortably around your waist. His face coming closer to yours, threatening to close the gasp… Woah, you had to admit that this bastard was handsome. And finally, his lips on yours. Slightly nervous at first, as he was afraid you would pull away at any given moment. Then sweet turning more and more passionate by seconds.

News always flied in the glaze, you two being “a thing” now was not. an exception. By the time the next bonfire arrived, no one, not even the greenie, wasn’t aware of it. Newt was glad, Minho had been rambling about you way too long and he couldn’t stand it anymore. Alby was a little bit angry, his rules had been broken again after all, but that was something you could deal with later. Minho was over the moon. You finally assumed that the line between annoyance and love is really thin. But there were two people who weren’t so happy about it…

“Here he comes again” Clint claimed as he saw a familiar tall and dark-haired boy entering the cabin.

“What happened this time?” Jeff asked as he placed some liquids on the shelves “Did he touch some poison ivy? Or did he catch a cold?” Being honest, they were growing tired of your Minho coming over with some stupid excuse to see you.

“A paper cut thanks to the map’s room, actually” He answered as he came closer to the desk where you were writing down the inventory before the next box arrived. “Afternoon, princess”

“Afternoon you too, my lovely clumsy bastard” You joked, placing a soft kiss on his lips

“Y/n, we will be running off band-aids if you keep putting one on your boyfriend every time he wants to see you” Clint protested as Jeff faked to be throwing up because of your small gestures of affection.

“Fine, a get-well kiss will be enough I guess” Minho accepted, and you wasted no time and kissed his cheek.

The rest of the med-jacks were more than annoyed with him, but he didn’t seem to care. After all, you were his favorite med-jack, the only one whose opinion mattered to him.

[87kelce]

—can we please get back to loving?

summary: you knew the term exclusive was never something travis would ever use when it comes to your relationship. but you seemed to be the only one he called when he wanted someone around.

warnings: angst, smut (18+ only, no minors), arguments, slow sex, riding, pussy eating, spooning

word count: 2660

notes: title taken from the song written all over your face by louis tomlinson. not proofread so if there's any mistakes i apologise. again likes and reblogs are very much appreciated 🫶

You never seemed to get a moments peace at night anymore. You knew better than to answer his calls, however the majority of the time, he was already waiting outside to be let in. But you just couldn't deny how good the sex was. He's barely doing anything and you're coming undone beneath him every time, his soft lips and wandering hands doing wonders on your body.

But then there were times he called and it wasn't for sex. He'd maybe just lost a game and he needs a pick me up, so he calls you. You talk for hours until he hears you yawning and then he thanks you for calming him down and tells you to get some rest. He also apologises for rambling on and keeping you awake for so long, but you tell him it's fine and you'd rather sit up and talk to him if it meant he was ok. You're always worried about him after a loss, he always blames himself for not doing enough and it hurts you that he feels that way.

Then you invited yourself over to his place one day, and he gladly let you in. You knew he had a game the next day so there was no chance of having sex, but at least you could help him focus on the game. He seemed to be in a good mood—he was making you laugh, you were watching TV together and you, slowly but surely, were falling for him. You were falling for the way his eyes practically disappeared when he laughed, falling for the way he always looked at you like you were the only thing in the room, falling for the way he kissed you softly and gently, falling for the way he felt so comfortable around you all the time.

But it was never exclusive, you knew he didn't want that. You were just there for a hook up and to hang out sometimes. If you didn't stop the whole ordeal, you were afraid you might get too attached and he won't reciprocate those same feelings. So you started ignoring his calls, and when he'd text you and ask what's wrong, you make up lies.

I'm too tired. I'm not feeling great. I've got friends over.

But he knew you better than that. After the third excuse he just invited himself over, making up his own excuse of I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And you knew better than to invite him in. But now he's on your couch, flicking through the channels on your TV, completely making himself at home.

"Why didn't you want to be exclusive with me?"

"Hm?"

Travis turned to face you, eyebrows raised. He clearly hadn't heard you, too focused on the TV and you just sighed.

"Why didn't you want to be exclusive with me?"

"Let's not discuss that.. I don't want to start a fight."

"Was I the only girl you were seeing?"

"Don't.."

"I want you to be honest with me."

He sighed, switching off the TV and getting up, walking to the kitchen. He opened your fridge and grabbed a water bottle, taking a sip before coming back to the couch. But he didn't say anything, just sat there in silence before he took his phone out and started scrolling through it.

"Travis.."

"I'm just.. I don't know."

"Is it me? Is it something I've done?"

"No."

You just sighed, getting up and going to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you and flopping onto your bed, crying into your pillow. He's like a completely different person now, compared to the person he was last week, laughing with you on the phone and being so sweet and kind to you. You're just waiting and hoping he knocks on your door, apologises and sweeps you off your feet again, like a knight in shining armour. But you're pretty sure he couldn't care less, and honestly, you're not even sure why he invited himself over in the first place. If he was worried about you, he could've called. You don't know why he was so adamant about being here with you, but not actually being with you.

After one of his games, he gave you an old jersey and you still kept it under your pillow, claiming it helped you sleep better. You reached under and grabbed it, bunching it up and cuddling it. Maybe if you hadn't tried to push him away, he might still be the nice Travis you knew two weeks ago. You kept blaming yourself, putting yourself at fault for everything between you and him, until a knock at your door startled you. You wiped your eyes, getting up and opening it.

"You okay? I was gonna check on you when you slammed the door but.. thought I'd give you some space."

"I'm fine, you can go home if you want."

"That movie you like is on, wanna watch it?"

"Just.. go home."

"I can't go home, not when you're like this."

"I said I'm fine."

"You're not."

He's being pushy but he needs to be, he needs to get you to admit that you're not okay. He knows you better than yourself sometimes and you just roll your eyes, pushing past him to sit on the couch, watching the movie starting. He threw his head back and sighed, but just as he tilted his head back and went to turn and follow you, he noticed the jersey. He remembers giving it to you, smiling when you immediately put it on and twirled round in it. Truthfully, although he won't admit it, that was the first moment he fell in love with you.

He walks into your room, grabbing the jersey before going back to sit with you on the couch. He just throws it down on the middle section of the couch, before sitting down and turning to look at you.

"You keep it on your bed?"

"Under my pillow.."

He just smiled, still watching you until you smiled back at him. He was almost magnetic, pulling you right back into him whenever he could. You let him in so easily and you know you shouldn't.

But then he's pulling you onto his lap, his mouth on your neck, lips soft against your skin. Your hands move up to the back of his neck, fingers scratching gently at the nape of his neck.

"Trav.."

"Shh.. feels good right?"

You just nodded, eyes closing shut.

"Then let it happen.."

As you pulled back slightly, his head tilted, lips moving to the other side of your neck. You felt like you were spinning, feeling all dizzy when he kissed you, ultimately making you forget you were mad at him in the first place. Then you remember he has practice again tomorrow, and it's important.

"We can't do this.. not tonight."

He ignores you at first, kissing along your collarbone and you have to push yourself away from him so he looks up at you.

"Listen to me.. we can't do this.."

"You still mad at me?"

"No, but you have practice again tomorrow."

He just sighs, hands fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt. It then hits you that he probably came here just to have sex, his excuse of making sure you were okay was just a lie. You push off him completely, sliding to sit next to him on the couch. But one of his hands is still on your waist, thumb circling gently on your skin.

"I need you to be genuinely honest with me, okay?"

"Okay.."

"Did you come over here for just a hookup?"

"No. You just.. kept avoiding me and I wanted to make sure you were alright."

You stood up from the couch, starting to pace around the room. Sure, he's cared about you but you just can't seem to figure out why he came over to make sure you were alright. He always just calls you, talking your ear off for hours on end and making you laugh to forget about why you were ever upset in the first place.

"I can't keep just having sex. But you don't want to be exclusive with me."

"You want the truth?"

"Please."

"I think you're so fucking cool. I get so happy when you answer my calls, those conversations we have are the one thing I look forward to on my off days. I push all these feelings down because I'm fucking terrified, my work is hectic and I.. I just don't want you to get overwhelmed by it all."

He had sat up now, head facing the ground after he spoke. You slowly sat down, one of your hands reaching for his.

"I remember giving you that jersey.. the way you got all giddy and excited when you put it on. I.."

You squeezed his hand gently and he turned his head to look at you. Then he sat back and once again, pulled you into his lap.

"Ever since then.. I can't stop thinking about you. It's just.. the travelling for away games, you wouldn't be with me for a few days and—"

"Trav.."

He looked into your eyes, feeling your hands cup his cheeks.

"I can handle a few days without you every so often.."

"Are you sure?"

You just smiled, kissing his forehead.

"I'm sure."

You let go of his face as he pulled you in against him, his forehead resting against the side of your neck. Everything felt so heavy with him before, but you didn't know that it was all on him. You had doubts that if you told him how you felt, that he wouldn't reciprocate those same feelings. There was no way you could've predicted him actually being in love with you. Especially with the sex, but now, as he moved his head back and kissed you softly on your neck, he could be sweet and gentle with you.

He moved his hands to your waist, shuffling forward on the couch before standing up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Walking you to the bedroom, you dropped your head to his shoulder, tilting your head to kiss the side of his neck. You unwrapped your legs from his waist when you felt the bed dip beneath you as he lay you down. One of his hands fumbled with your shorts as the other bunched your shirt up, his fingers brushing over your nipple, making you gasp slightly.

His head was resting against your stomach, lips leaving lingering kisses all over your skin, and you couldn't help but watch him, eyes closed and savouring every moment with you. He had managed to wiggle your shorts and underwear off, and now his mouth was kissing the inside of your thighs. You were still looking down at him when he flashed his eyes up at you, his mouth hovering over your core. He moved your left leg over his shoulder, while he pushed at the back of your thigh on your right leg, keeping it open. The hand that wasn't holding your leg open, wrapped around your other leg, trying to keep you in place while he buried his head between your legs. He could feel you squirming underneath him and almost anticipated your movements, his head moving in time with you.

You threw your head back when he delved his tongue inside, mouth still attached to your folds. Again, he flashed his eyes up at you, grinning when he saw you slightly arch your back up off the sheets. He licked through your folds a couple more times, before you reached one hand down, pushing against his forehead.

"Trav.. please.. too much.."

But he didn't stop, he just pushed his tongue deeper, licking faster, your whines and moans only egging him on further. But just as he knew you were close, he pulled away, reaching down and wiping his face with the hem of his t-shirt. He then shrugged your leg off his shoulder and stood up in between your legs.

"You close?"

"Mmph.. mmhm.."

You slowly opened your eyes, watching him walk round the bed, before sitting down and patting his thighs. You slowly turned over, crawling up the bed and swinging your leg over his thighs. When his hands found your waist, he smiled up at you, brushing your hair out your face.

"There's my girl.."

You just blushed, lowering yourself down and hiding your face in his neck.

"Does my girl wanna come?"

"Please?"

He reached behind you and pulled at his shorts, dragging them off. He returned his focus to you, realising still how sensitive you already were and started to move his hands up and down your sides, squeezing gently and almost trying to massage you. While his hands were occupied, you lifted yourself onto your knees slightly, reaching down between both your bodies and adjusting yourself onto him, sinking down and sighing into his shoulder when he was fully inside.

"Take it easy, baby.. nice and slow."

You were feeling so overwhelmed that you couldn't move much, rather just grinding against him. His hands on your waist made you move, lifting you off him slightly before pushing you back down. His lips were kissing your neck, softly and sweetly, and you could feel him smiling against your skin.

Since he had basically eaten you out to almost orgasm earlier, it didn't take long before you let go against him, mumbling out that you were close.

"Let go.. I got you.."

You sighed out in relief, legs slightly trembling around him as he shh'd and cooed at you. He gave you a few languid thrusts himself to ride you through it and over it, before you felt him grunt in your ear. He was close and although you were still sensitive and still coming down from your own high, you wanted to help him get to his. Grinding your hips down onto him, he threw his head back against the pillow, eyes screwed shut and his mouth open.

"Unless you want me to come inside you, you better get off my dick.."

You pulled off him and heard him sigh against your neck, dropping his head back to your shoulder. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a tissue, cleaning himself up. You then slid off him, laying down on the bed, feeling him drag his shorts back on before laying down behind you, arm wrapping around your waist.

"I hate when we fight.."

"I know, baby.. but if we hadn't had that fight, I wouldn't have realised what a dick I was being and wouldn't have told you how I feel about you. I could've just left when you told me to leave.."

"I'm glad you didn't.."

He just smiled and kissed your shoulder, before nuzzling his forehead against it.

"Now.. you gotta sleep, you have practice tomorrow.. and I don't think Reid will let you turn up late.. again.."

He just laughed, kissing your shoulder again before resting his head into the pillow. You felt his hand play with the hem of your t-shirt for a while before he stopped and you knew he'd drifted off to sleep. You stayed awake for a while after that, unable to think about anything except Travis. Eventually your eyes fluttered closed and you drifted off to sleep, warmed by his arm around your stomach.

[westside-rot]

Kill For You

Authors note: This was intended to be my first drabble but my brain wouldn't let me stop and here we are with all these words. I'll get it right and stop rambling eventually lmao

Also, I'm dipping my toe into fanfics, having fun with ideas and seeing what sticks so please be nice. It's never that serious. This has light editing so excuse any errors.

Minors dni. I do not consent to my work being copied/reposted anywhere. Stealing is lame so don't do it. Reblogs and comments are always welcome after you hit like lol

Protective husband Toji

Mentions of violence and smut *sorry not sorry*

Choosing an outfit is never easy for you. Most days it’s more like a chore and less like a first step in having fun. The way Toji’s eyes tear away from the video game he’s playing to shamelessly appraise your body is confirmation you made the right choice. Going out tonight was a last-minute decision. With limited time to get ready you opted for a backless navy-blue halter dress that showed off plenty leg without having to worry about your ass being exposed. A modest selection for the club. There’s nothing modest about the way Toji admires your curvy frame.

You pretend not to notice as you drop your phone into your purse and inform him of your plans for the evening.

“I’ll see you in a few hours. Enjoy your game. I love you.” It’s foolish to think you’d get away with a rushed explanation and a quick kiss goodbye. When Toji’s large hand catches you by the wrist you aren’t the least bit surprised to have your departure interrupted. You huff and scrunch up your nose to hide your amusement. The charade ends the moment you lock eyes. With a smirk on your face you melt into his broad defined chest and the kiss accompanying his possessive hold on your waist.

“Now let’s try this again Mrs. Fushiguro. Where do you think you’re going in this dress?”

You can’t answer right away as your husband leads you into one kiss and then another. Soon you’re in a full-blown make-out session. When he does finally let you up for air it’s a miracle you can speak. An even bigger one that your panties haven’t melted right off your ass. You explain how one of your girls is going through a bad breakup and you and the rest of the friend group have decided to get her out of the house for a night of drinks and dancing. Toji hums in what you assume to be understanding. The way his lips ghost over the creamy brown skin of your collarbone, tongue dipping between your boobs says otherwise.

“You look gorgeous my love. Maybe you should change. I don’t think I want you wearing this dress without me around.”

“Baby, I can’t. The girls will be here in five minutes. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve felt pretty in a dress.”

He knows you’re being genuine just like he knows you don’t fault him for the long work hours and long overdue date nights. Giving you his blessing is the first step in making amends. Even though he raises you to your feet and readjusts the bottom of your dress back into place you can see the conflict happening behind his dark green eyes.

“I promise to be good.” You pout and run your fingers over the clipped black hair hanging over his forehead. He growls and pulls you closer.

“Keep your phone on. Should any man dare speak to you let them know disrespect is a crime punishable by death. Your husband is the executioner.”

“Yes sir.” You purr against his lips and erupt into a fit of giggles when he sends you on your way with a firm smack to the ass that stays with you long after you join your friends in the rideshare. It requires some convincing not to fake an illness to stay at home with your husband. Nurturing your friendships is important to you. The last thing you want is to become the friend who forsakes all others for her man. A night away from him will do you both some good. And so you turn your thoughts away from him and focus on the night ahead.

Hours later you’re regretting your decision. It’s not that you haven’t enjoyed yourself. After spending weeks going from work to home you loved every second of existing in your own bubble with your girls. The music had been on point and the drinks were nice and strong. That seemed like a good thing in the moment. By 1am you remember why you could only handle the club in small doses. The men had officially lost any sense of decency. While you understood wanting to end the night in good company, you were tired of having to relay Toji’s message to every man occupying your personal space. The massive ring on your finger should’ve been effective fuck boy repellent. Yet here you were on your fourth insincere apology. To their credit, they eventually cut their losses and backed away. There was always one that refused to take no for an answer. This particular jerk refuses to accept your no, going as

Deciding you’ve reached your fill on corny pick up lines, you and your girl decide to wait for the rest of your group outside. You've dealt with your fair share of thirsty men, none crazy enough to get physical and call you an uppity bitch for dismissing him. Pulling away only gives him reason to tighten his grip on your arm. Before you or your friend can respond with a swift kick to the balls a strong pair of hands pull the man off his feet and cast him aside like a rag doll. Your eyes practically fall out of your head when you realize it’s Toji. He’s too busy making good on his word to acknowledge your shock. While the dumb ass puts up an impressive defense he’s easily overpowered and pummeled to the ground. Every punch he throws is reciprocated with two more that land directly in his face until he's unrecognizable. Toji shows no sign of stopping. Even though you'd bet money you weren't the first woman this piece of shit has put his hands on, he isn't worth a prison sentence.

It's your voice pulling Toji back to his senses. One more punch and a kick to the ribs and he's snatching the man up by his collar to hold the man's bloody face in your direction.

“Apologize for putting your filthy hands on my wife. I’m only sparing you because she asked.

He complies and stammers out an apology through the stream of blood running down his nose into his mouth. You’re disgusted by how little you care about the beating he’s taken. Unlike the idiot before you, no one is going to force you to apologize for noticing how well your husband is filling out his thermal. In the hours since you last saw him his corded muscles appear larger and more defined underneath the black fabric. It looks painted on. The color has always been your kryptonite. Toji is wrapped in it, from his jeans down to his work boots. It’s the black beanie tugged down over his ears that turns you feral.

Toji’s voice cuts through your thoughts with a clear directive you can’t ignore. “Let’s go. All of you. NOW.” He leads you out of the club with your gaped mouth friends trailing closely behind, the crowd parting like water to let you pass. Some women gawk, one gave you a thumbs up, while other voices agreed with Toji’s methods. You have the urge to remind everyone he's your husband but decide against it.

Once in the car Toji instructs you to put everyone’s addresses into the GPS. After that the ride is tense and mostly silent. In the group chat your friends are remain crazy and undeterred as they unanimously decide Toji’s deserves immaculate head on everyone’s behalf.

You bite down a laugh then respond in chat, assuring them you will but you can't pinpoint Toji’s mood. He seems upset with you. Despite being grateful for his presence you’re somewhat annoyed with him for infiltrating your girl’s night out. Exactly how long had he been spying? Why hadn’t you noticed him before? Was he being protective, or did he not really trust you?

It pisses you off that while you’re stewing in emotions you shouldn’t feel Toji is being the perfect gentleman, not only driving your friend’s home but escorting them to the door to ensure they make it inside safely. Upon arriving home you decide you're going to sleep off your frustrations and be a responsible adult tomorrow.

Toji has other plans. Resisting your inner brat, you allow his firm yet pleading tone to keep you in your seat with arms folded across your chest.

“I’m sorry for not getting to you sooner baby. I was trying to be respectful to the hoe asking me dance and got distracted.”

The way your jaw clenches at the mention of the faceless woman proves Toji isn’t alone in his unhinged behavior. In your defense your patience runs a bit longer than his. You certainly haven’t beaten any women to a pulp for getting close. No woman had dared to touch what belonged to you either.

“Sure.”

“I got this bad feeling after you left that I couldn’t shake. Maybe it was nothing. But I rather have you upset with me than ignore my gut and something happens. You’re my entire world. I can't exist without you.”

Suddenly you’re climbing into your wonderful man’s lap to shower him with appreciation one kiss at a time across his beautiful face. You’re a brat that needs to correct her attitude. To further drive home the point you drag your tongue over his scar then back down to his chin, bearing your teeth and latching on. Toji’s lips curve into a vulgar smile but otherwise appears unfazed.

“How do you intend to make it up to me brat?”

His dick, hard and restricted against the crotch of your panties sends a message to put action to words. You comply with eager hands fumbling with his belt as you lean back on the steering wheel. “By letting you use me. You can start by fucking me right here in the driveway.”

He groans as though he’s already inside of you. What you mistake for passion on the verge of release is restraint to keep both hands firmly at your waist. He refuses to touch the intimate parts of you with soiled hands. Another reason to despise the piece of shit from earlier. But you’re too horny to argue. You practically race up the driveway, fumbling with keys to unlock the front door. The kitchen to wash your hands or a shower. You can’t decide. Toji makes the decision for you.

“Take off your panties.” Pulling them down your shapely legs, you toe the lace off to the side along with your heels. You abruptly clamp on the taunt you’ve prepared when you see him kneel before you, presenting his shoulders as a thrown he wishes you to occupy. Always mindful of safety you drape one leg across him and keep the other on the ground for leverage until he demands your trust. You comply. Your husband is a strong man. You’re reminded how much when he straightens his back, hoisting you off the ground, trapping you between the door at your back and the tongue in your pussy.

You close your eyes and surrender to weightlessness, tugging at his hair and mewling your pleasure, vocal but not too loud. You want to hear him lewdly slurp at his meal, burying his face in it like he’s eager to drown and die a satisfied man. His tongue is just as big as the rest of him. You love the way he alternates between the wavelike motions against your clit to stuffing your needy walls. It doesn’t take long to come like this. You whimper his name on its arrival, shudder then relax on his shoulders with your feet set firmly at the center of his back. When he finally sets you on the ground with a suckling kiss to each thigh you follow him on shaky legs into the kitchen.

The energy shifts from two wantons chasing pleasure to comedic and downright absurd. Toji has you pinned in front of him at the sink, his burly figure towering over you in playful competition for his share of the running water all while he struggles to penetrate you handsfree. You wish you could see how silly he looks with his jeans below his ass grinding near your entrance like some inexperienced teenager. The failed attempts have given your abs the workout you haven’t asked for. You’re the drunk one. Toji has no excuse for his antics but you’re honored he trusts you with this silly version of himself, a side the world doesn’t know exists.

"Spread your legs a little wider—push your ass up."

"Give up please." Laughter splutters from you when he notches the head between your folds, almost but not quite. The way he dips and rolls his hips as if he's sure it'll get him where he needs to be put tears in your eyes. "You’re trying to kill me." Resting your head on the counter, you give up attempting to wash your hands to fully commit to laughing. Toji joins in while taking full advantage of the water.

"Not at all gorgeous. I’m trying to fuck you." He doesn’t bother to dry off his now thoroughly washed hands as guides himself to your entrance. He reaches his target on the first try. Neither of you is laughing anymore.

The first thrust is always the sweetest. Especially when you’ve gone deprived for so long.

"There ya go. Shut that pretty fuckin mouth and let me inside." He kicks your legs apart to widen your stance and ruts into your ass. You nearly submerge your head under the water from the impact but recover quickly, stretching your soapy fingertips into the water instead and deepening the arch in your back. It gives him a full display of your ass bouncing off his pelvis and aligns him with just the right spot. He drills you for several heavenly minutes then fucks you into a standing split. Somehow you manage to cut off the water and just in time because he's snatched you off your feet, locking your knees over his elbows to fuck you midair.

There's nothing gentle about the way he fucks you. He fucks you like he's upset, like he's secretly harboring a grudge he doesn't want to speak on. You love it but feel as though you owe him another apology.

Toji isn’t giving you the chance to speak. Even as he walks you into the living room, he’s slamming you down on his dick, knocking the words right out of you. He’s relentless even in the way he places you back on your feet and jerks you around by the hair to segue right back to hard thrusts in one disorienting motion.

"I’m sorry. I’ll burn the dress—Don’t be mad." You wail over the sound of his balls colliding with your ass and frantically attempt to leverage yourself on the couch. He’s quick to restrain both arms behind your back, locking them at the elbow in a one-armed restraint. His free hand snakes your throat. There’s nowhere to run even if you want to. You don’t. He slams into you numerous times before his brain processes what you managed to say.

"What? No baby--just need to feel you and remind myself you’re mine... beautiful and all fucking mine."

"All yours. Only fucking yours." You echo the words. It earns you more sharp thrusts in powerful succession, the intensity forcing you on to the tips of your toes. You chant the words through your delirium and yield as he cranes you backwards by a makeshift ponytail to roughly kiss his way into your mouth. Not the most comfortable position but you love being treated like his personal doll. It doesn’t matter that you watched him mark his territory in the most violent way possible or how ridiculous it might seem to need the reassurance. He's a man, your man, the person you vowed to spend your life with. If he needs his ego stroked, you'll gladly stroke it. Perhaps not in the way he’s stroking your insides but close enough for him to feel cherished and irreplaceable. He deserves it after giving you some of the best orgasms of your life.

All you can do is scream your praise when the third one hits. Every nerve ending in your body feels like tiny focal point detonating at once. The pleasure overtakes you, seizing control of your limbs and coherence. You topple over the couch’s armrest to sob face first in the cushions below. Tremors ripple through your fingers down to your toes now arched and pointed at the ceiling. You fear any sudden movement will remove you from this new blissed out existence. So you don’t. You remain in your wilted position, crying and fully possessed by endless quaking yet aware enough to sense Toji kneeling at eye level. Warm hands caress your face, coaxing a gratified drunken smile to confirm you hadn’t passed out.

"Did I break you?"

“Uh-uh.”

His thumb catches your bottom lip and pries your mouth open. "I’m putting you to bed."

Instantly you muster the strength to speak. "Nooo. Just gimme a minute."

His laughter soothes your rapid pulse and puts breath back into your lungs. You think you won’t need the minute you requested. Not anymore. You only need him to find his way back home. Toji ignores your pleas with soothing kisses to your nose and lips. He guides you out of the awkward position you landed in and carries you to your bedroom.

It's a welcome change to be returned to your plush bed with your husband looming over you, gaze imbued with love you'll never get tired of seeing, removing the dress still gathered at your waist as though you'll break if he handles you poorly. He removes what remains of his attire and rejoins you on the bed. Finally you’re both gloriously naked. You pull him down on top of you, hard lines melding with soft russet contours and entangled limbs sharing a single heartbeat.

He fucks into you slow, takes his time delving to where your soul resides, whispering his devotion against your damp skin. When you reach orgasm for the last time he isn’t far behind you, filling you with his cum, marking you as his. It isn’t until he pulls out, when the urge to watch his cum leak from your spent body is too great to ignore do you realize how turned on you were watching him defend your honor. It’s toxic to wish for such things but it’s a subject you refuse to drop until you’ve talked it out with your husband. Toji will have to be the one to put a stop to your fantasy, that or replace it with something different, something better. Until then you drift back to the present, shut your eyes, and plan out your next outfit.

[not-krys]

62. Magic [Miri & Asmodeus]

Since today is Miri's birthday on this fine WIP Wednesday day, I decided to focus only on her for this round of WIPs to celebrate along with reblogging some of my other favorite works featuring her.

For this WIP, regular warnings apply: Raw, unedited, somewhat ramble-y writing that takes a sudden turn down below. Takes inspiration from OG Obey Me Lesson 8 when Miri gets her fourth pact with Asmo, after she summoned him for the first time using borrowed magic from Solomon. Nudity is also mentioned, along with Asmo and his flirty ways~

-----

"Alright!" Asmo declared cheerfully while taking hold of Miri's tiny sheep hooves, surprising everyone. "I'll do it!"

"…Do what?" Miri asked, eyes wide.

"I'll make a pact with you, hon!"

"Wait, really?"

"Yes, absolutely!" He shook their joined 'hands.' "You've earned it, darling!"

"But… but I failed?"

"Doesn't matter anymore! You've proven that you're more than capable of handling my powers, so now, you've earned that pact, sweetie!"

"T-that wasn't me though… That was Solomon's magic. He's… well, he's-"

"Still! Even on borrowed magic, you packed a big load! I mean, just feeling it was-!"

"O-okay! That's enough!" Miri felt like her face might explode in embarrassment and didn't want to risk the possibility of it happening literally (it could happen in Devildom, for all she knew), so she stopped Asmo's tangent. He laughed and winked.

"Come to think of it, I'll get to see you back in your human form again if we make this pact. I didn't get a good look back in the catacombs, but now I get to see how cute you really are!"

"Cute!?" Did exploding faces happen with sheep? It might be possible, Miri thought.

"The way you act sometimes, you're definitely a cutie underneath that sheep skin! Not as cute as me, of course, but I bet you could turn a few heads."

Miri looked away and down, not responding to that comment.

The two then faced each other, Asmo placing his forehead against hers and recited the pact agreement, a pink glow enveloping the pair. When the glow faded, a young, dark-skinned woman with pink curly hair was standing where the tiny pink sheep was, her pink purple eyes glued to the floor. Asmo took in a breath, his eyes sparkling in delight.

"Miri, you're so-!"

"Pardon the intrusion," Barbatos's soft, even voice sounded behind her as a black silk robe soon circled Miri's shoulders, startling the two. The back of the robe trailed on the floor, much too big for her small (but human-sized) form.

"Mammon, why are you covering my eyes!?" Levi's voice called out, making her gasp.

"Don't look at her when she's naked, stupid!"

"I've seen her naked before! I have a pact with her too, you know!"

"Yeah, and she had to carry you to your room because your nose was bleeding so much!"

"Excuse you, moron! She carried *you* to your room! I know because I had to help her do it!"

"Simeon! Why are you covering my eyes!" Luke's tiny voice called out.

"Miri's in a vulnerable state right now. Let's respect her privacy , all right?"

"Covering Luke's eyes is understandable, Simeon, but why are you covering mine as well?" Solomon asked.

Miri turned to see the crowd in various states of eyes covered, of their own volition or not; others pointedly looking in any direction other than in hers, and a few others with their backs turned completely around, facing various walls and pillars in the hall. Miri pulled the robe closer, cheeks warm.

"T-Thank you, Barbatos."

"Do you have any spare clothes?"

"Well… no," she responded, remembering that she had come to Devildom as a sheep, with nothing on her, not even her old clothes. "With Mammon and Levi, I was human again for a few minutes, and was back to a sheep again when I woke up the next morning after I got Beel's pact."

"Hmm… perhaps I can have the Little Ds scourge up a spare RAD uniform for the time being."

"Actually, Barbatos," Diavolo called out, one of the ones with his back fully turned. "Have the Little Ds search for something more appropriate in my mother's room. Sleeping in a school uniform doesn't sound very comfortable, does it?"

Barbatos's eyes widened slightly and Miri couldn't help but notice how Lucifer's posture straightened up more as well.

"It might be a little old-fashioned," Diavolo continued, "but it'll do for now. I hope it'd be suitable for your needs, Miriam."

"I don't want to impose on you or your mother, Lord Diavolo." Miri said, thinking that she hadn't seen hide or hair of Diavolo's mother since she came to the Devildom, nor did anyone seem to talk about her either.

"Please, I insist. You're a guest in my castle and I want to treat you as such."

"W-well, only if it's okay with her, then."

"I don't think she would have minded. Barbatos?"

"As you wish, my lord." Barbatos nodded and stepped away, gently tapping Miri's shoulder and guided her away. She also couldn't help but hear two grumbles of struggle and a firm 'No.' from Lucifer distantly.

======

"…He wasn't kidding when he said it was old-fashioned." Asmo said, tilting his head to the side as they stood in the guest room together. "More conservative than what I would have pictured for a demon queen, not gonna lie."

Miri was covered again in black fabric, feeling something similar to linen against her skin, different from the silk of the former robe Barbatos had put on her. The sleeves were long and covering her fingertips with elaborate black lace cuffs. The hem was almost to the floor, not as much as the black robe had been on her but there was still the risk of tripping, Miri noticed.

"It's supposed to be for sleeping… I think." Miri said, looking at herself in the mirror, pulling at the fabric. "It's so fancy…"

"You'll be sleeping like a queen, if you want to look at it that way." Asmo said, lifting her chin up. "But she did have a good eye for fabrics, I can see that. It's held up pretty well despite its age."

Miri looked at herself again, decked in the black linen-like gown, her pink hair standing out against the dark fabric.

"Hey, Asmo? Barbatos and Lucifer seemed pretty surprised at Lord Diavolo suggesting I borrow his mother's clothes. Do you know why?"

"Well… the queen's been dead for quite some time, hon." Asmo said, surprising Miri. "We were still angels at the time when we heard news of her passing, and just barely at that. The Devildom and the Celestial Realm weren't on the best of terms at the time, to put it nicely. Her passing was barely a footnote in Celestial Realm's gossip circles, barely even a word about it."

Asmo sighed.

"Come to think of it, Lord Diavolo doesn't talk all that much about his family. Not all that surprising, all things considered."

"What do you mean?"

"Aside from his mother's death, his father isn't around either."

"Like …the queen?"

"No, he's at the bottom of the Devildom, alive! Don't worry, hon! No one's seen him in the last thousand years though. Lord Diavolo pretty much rules now, yet he hasn't taken the crown yet, out of respect."

"Maybe… he's still mourning the loss of his wife?"

"Could be. Relationships between all three realms have changed so much since then. It must have been a lot for him."

Asmo then turned Miri to face him, smiling.

"Now that that's out of the way, let me get a look at you, you cute little human!"

"A-again with the cute…"

"But you are! Look at you and your little ears! And hey! Your pointy finger and your ring finger are almost the same length! That's interesting!"

Asmo pressed his hands against her cheeks, feeling them warm at a rather fast pace.

"Where did that extra power come from anyway?"

"S-sowoman's majack-" Asmo pushed her cheeks up, forcing her mouth open.

"That wasn't just Solomon's magic there, trust me hon, I know his magic. There's more you're hiding in there, I'm sure. No need to be shy, now."

Simeon, just coming into the room, couldn't help but laugh at the scene.

"You've certainly taken quite a liking to Miriam, haven't you, Asmodeus?"

"Well, of course! I wouldn't have made a pact with her, would I?"

He still held her mouth open, inspecting her teeth.

"Still, who would have thought you had such powerful magic hidden within you, Miriam?" Simeon wondered aloud. "Where could it have been hidden all this time, I wonder?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out." Asmo said. "We're going to find where it's hiding. I'm going to take it nice and slow and be *very* thorough…'kay?"

Asmo released her mouth to squish her fiery cheeks again.

"Ooh, Miri! Is it okay if I sleep together with you in your bed tonight? You don't mind, do you?"

Miri looked pleadingly at Simeon.

"H-hwep…"

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Mammon shouted, bursting into the room.

Asmo looked at Mammon, clearly displeased.

"What are you doing to Miri, huh?! Quit touching her like that! You're waaay too close! Get offa her!"

"So, Miri," Asmo ignored him, putting his hands on her shoulders, massaging them lightly. "When you wash yourself, where do you usually start? Because I like to start with my-"

"Ahuh!?"

"Oh so you're gonna ignore me, huh!?" Mammon said, glaring.

[heyheydidjaknow]

Since you posted Incomprehensible I just wanna ramble for a hot minute:

I think??? That this is one of my favorite characterizations of yan!venti ever?? Considering what else I’ve seen posted for yan Venti, I loved the take that he knows that this is wrong, knows he is going against the thing he is the god of!! But he still goes through with it- and since both incomprehensible and good wine are both Venti POV, we get to see what he is thinking as he acts(and why he does certain things tbh). The way he chooses to not react much when the reader tries to jump in Good Wine despite the fact he is heartbroken that they tried that? The fact he stops himself from crying because despite the fact he knows the tears would be real, he is aware that although it could help now, it would only be used against him as a trick later? How he still tries to be caring and kind while also being completely self aware of the situation he is in? THE WAY HE IS SO CALM AND THINKING OVER EVERYTHING HE SAYS BECAUSE IT MATTERS SO MUCH IN THIS SITUATION?

Venti may be a bard but in case he is an actor performing for the sole audience of one. Both stories remind me a little about how Venti acting during his story quest at part in the statue. Like he is Barbatos the god and not a simple bard. It was a cool take to see!

You and @twosaparty are both trying to make me cry and it is not nice. Knowing people respond this thoughtfully to something I’ve written means a lot and I cannot thank you enough for the kind words.

I’m using this ask as an excuse to answer a quasi-question posed by Two in their reblog of my thing, which is generally bad form for writers but whatever.

It would take a lot. Kidnapping you is one thing. He can justify that in his head, that your time is so limited that every second counts. He can lie to himself, tell himself that what he’s doing really isn’t that bad because, at the end of the day, you’re mortal, and any suffering you may endure is going to last you, at most, less than a century. That does not apply if you are immortal. His immortality is the entire reason he let himself kidnap an innocent person in the first place. To make you experience the pain of being stagnant as the world moves on without you, to him, is a fate worse than death. What if, by some miracle, he died? He couldn’t leave you to suffer the way he did before he met you, leave you to watch the people you love die around you with nobody to help you through it. He wouldn’t forgive himself.

Having said that, I could absolutely see him try to make you immortal if he thought you were in immediate mortal danger. I could see him panic and move to do it without considering the consequences and then never being able to look at himself again because of it. If you tried to kill him for it he would honestly help you because it is what he deserves.

[bluebeads-art]

your art is so amazing !!! i adored the 3d printed stuff (as someone who has had to design myself 3d printed merch before because i don't usually have much access to the merch in my fandom lol), it's so good?? and all your coloring is beautiful <3

all this to say it might not seem like i reblog much but rest assured all the stuff i liked (or didn't) went into my queue a few times over hehehe. i LOVE your art it's amazing <3

wishing you luck with the identity and health stuff, even if it doesn't get better i hope you find happiness within it 🫡

gah this got away from me sorry for the ramble

aaaaaaa I saw this message in a notification on my phone, said "I'll read that when I actually have time to reply," then the notification got dismissed somehow and if there's no notification prompt to remind me of something, it no longer exists to me. It's been a month I'm so sorry ^^;;

Thank you so much! I wish it was easier to convert more of my stuff to be 3D printable, but my usual modeling style is not watertight in the slightest and disregards gravity entirely. 😆 3D modeling has always been really cool to me because there's so many different workflows depending on what you're trying to make. Keeps things from getting stale!

Speaking of differences, I feel like people don't tend to mention my coloring. :0 I think my line art usually steals the show, heh. I used to be a lot more conscious about color theory and shading when I was younger, but these days there's no thoughts, only vibes 😂

Ok the line, "even if it doesn't get better i hope you find happiness within it" hit me unexpectedly hard (in a good way). Any nice messages I get always means a ton to me, but while I don't seem to be able to articulate why at the moment, I think that line will stick with me for much longer than usual. Thank you so much ♥

---

Speaking more generally (this message just gave me a good excuse to talk, heh)- spoilers; the artist in my brain refuses to die. So after, like, a literal year of not touching it, I've started working again on a 3D modeling project that I started in 2021 that has been haunting me ever since. Been trying to redesign a robot OC of mine Rayner, and I'm really particular about wanting his joints to work in a physical space instead of bending the rules artistically. I'm Really bad at designing complex hard surface objects in flat 2D though. However, there's a reason artists tell you not to character design in 3D, and that's because it's slow, it's easy to lose design cohesion, and most importantly it just sucks, awful workflow. But I am Doing it. And while I was super stuck for years and almost developed a friggin phobia of the project, I am now Doing It. And it's actually working out this time. The 3D model itself is MILES from being done, but the design almost is, and while that's a boring end result for other people, it represents a huge milestone and accomplishment for me in many ways.

I've been drawing a little bit lately too! But I feel my social media hiatus has given me a healthier relationship with posting? Like I have a few doodles that I could either post now or post soon, but I don't feel the same pressure to anymore? Where even if I never post them, I think I'm fine with that. I've always thought I made art for myself, but that's not exactly true because I was also making art for the sake of sharing. And while I don't think there's anything wrong with that, I think being able to separate the two and be content with simply just creating is healthy. Also I'm still not as active on social media in general anymore which is probably healthier as well LOL.

So I'll prrrobably start posting again soon-ish now that I've broken this blog's posting silence? Not sure how to wrap this monologue up. My physical health problems are going to keep on probleming, but in terms of artistic fulfillment I've been in a much better place this past month, and that's a huge yeehaw from me 👍

[youjustgotxfiled]

Hey, everybody! I've finally gotten around to starting to upload my own works on this hellsite! :D

This one's dedicated to all the Amphibia and Sashannarcy fans out there, as well as to everyone who deals with trauma, CPTSD, anxiety, depression, and other mental & emotional conditions and disorders, as well as to everyone in the LGBTQ community at large. You are ALL warriors who deserve the best out of life.

This piece was written between May and November of 2022, but is only being uploaded here now because a) I wanted to run it through beta readers to feel confident enough to post it, and b) I wanted to make sure my AO3 and DeviantArt accounts got their uploads going first.

If you like what you see here, feel free to like, reblog, and share with everyone! Any and all engagement helps me out a ton (especially the reblogs XD).

Story for Chapter 1 below the cut for those unable to access the link above.

************************************************************************

You are invited to: THE BEST FAMILY DINNER EVER!

You’d recognize that script anywhere. The kind of writing that can come from just one colleague of yours: the inimitable Marcy.

You’ve known each other for a fair bit now; ever since Marcy moved back to Los Angeles and took a job in your studio three years ago, you’ve have been quite the talk of the town as perhaps the two lone people ever to have gotten more than five words out of each other in any given conversation. Not that either of you mind too much—being both introverts and nerds helps you be that much more attuned to each other’s needs and interests, to say nothing of the ease with which each’s rapt attention to the ramblings of the other helps block out the surrounding office gawking and gossip. After all, both of you are very much used to it by this point in your lives. 

Still, this invitation comes as a surprise. For one thing, Marcy is not one to talk about her private life or after-work plans much, and neither are you. For another, one of the few things she has revealed is that she’s married to a pair of women, and not just any pair: they’re Anne and Sasha Boonchuy-Plantar, famed heroes and defenders of Earth from the attempted “Frogvasion” over ten years ago. Though you haven’t said as much to Marcy, you’re filled with all sorts of weird emotions at the mention of their names. Excitement, fear, curiosity, and longing all collide within you, TV and social-media images and sounds of that day—of THEM, at their most fierce and intimidating—bouncing around in your mind, leaving much more space than is comfortable to wonder how much of it carries over, then or now, into their private lives.

How similar it makes them to…well, them.

No, you think. Your hands are beginning to tremble, your breathing becoming tougher to do. Not them. PLEASE not them. Not right now.

You put the invitation card down on your desk, gripping your hands against the front edge to steady them and not tip off any snooping passers-by. For a long moment, you close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing, hoping the serrated pattern it takes on when you get like this isn’t loud enough for anyone to hear it. After a shake of your head for good measure, you open your eyes again. 

“Heeey!”

You jump in your seat, and it’s all you can do not to scream. At least your hands have stopped trembling. You can’t say the same for your breathing, however. 

“Oh my frog, I’m SO sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” Marcy says as you turn your head to see her standing next to you. Her hands are covering her mouth, and her brows are furrowed upward. Uh oh. Better make a quick cover.

“No worries, Marcy! I was, uh…just kinda tunneling on this frame, is all,” you reply. You throw in a sheepish laugh and grin for good measure, hoping to God—excuse you, FROG—that she buys it. “You know how I get with that sort of thing.”

“Oh, yeah! I’m the same way when I get SUPER-invested in something,” says Marcy. She flaps her hands to accentuate her words, a trait you find makes you smile. For a moment, you wonder if Anne and Sasha react the same way about it, too, though the chill coming up your spine and settling in your stomach at the mere thought of them prompt you to shove the question aside and turn your attention back to the still-chatting Marcy. 

“—so she was thinking that we should sub it out for roast beef sandwiches, but of COURSE Anne wanted something a little more special than that, so—”

“Marcy,” you say. She quiets right away, noting the tension and uncertainty you’re failing so hard to hide in your voice. “Do…” The names seem a bit too difficult for you to spit out, so you opt for the next best descriptor. “Do your wives know you’re planning all this?”

“Of course they do,” Marcy replies. She tilts her head with a confused look. “I’ve been begging for them to put this together with me for at LEAST the last two weeks. I can’t even BEGIN to tell you how many work stories of our convos I’ve shared with them just to get them to let their guard down and be a LITTLE curious about you.”

Let their guard down. Sounds…possessive. That doesn’t bode well. The icy feeling in your stomach begins to swirl. Out of sight—you hope—your grip on the edges of your desk tightens, even as you flash another smile. “Heh, yeah. Probably should have figured that. Sorry for the stupid question, Mar.”

“Oh, no! I don’t think it’s stupid at all,” says Marcy. She looks down for a second, her beautiful smile fading a bit. “Frog knows I’ve hurt them enough with trying to plan stuff behind their backs.”

It’s your turn to shoot Marcy a perplexed look. Hurt? Behind their backs? Whatever in the multiverse could she be referring to? You look down towards the ground for a moment, wheels turning at an even higher speed in your mind. You look back up at Marcy. “Are…are you okay with telling me more about that?”

Marcy emits a sad grin, shaking her head. “No. Not right now, anyway. That stuff’s…pretty private between the three of us.” She looks back up at you. “You ARE super-nice and considerate, though. Maybe one day. When I’m ready. When all three of us are ready.”

When all three of us are ready? Now that’s curious phrasing if you’ve ever heard it. Your pulse begins to quicken, as does your breathing. Your trembling hands are becoming a bit more pronounced, too. Does your possessiveness reading have legs? Maybe accepting this invitation isn’t such a good idea…

You squeeze your eyes shut, gritting your teeth. You exhale in a huff. You’re not letting this fear overtake you again. Not ever again—you let them control you enough as it was then, and you have no intention of ever letting them win. This is YOUR life to live now, dammit!

Right?

You reopen your eyes and shoot an even more exaggerated grin at Marcy than before. It’s crucial that she not see your panic right now. “Fair enough. Perhaps tonight’s dinner will be a start, then.”

Marcy’s eyes widen. She begins to jump, hands flapping a million miles a minute. “EEEEE!” She squeals, all toothy smiles. “I’m SO excited for you to come over! Oh, I can’t WAIT for you to meet the other girls! This’ll be the best guest-dinner EVER!”

************************************************************************

You arrive right on time at six o’clock, though more so because you had trouble finding the right address than out of any sense of precision or punctuality. After all, the directions are but one of several thoughts racing through your mind.

At length, you reach the bottom of the steps leading up to what appears to be a modest suburban house like most others here in Long Beach—small front porch, two stories with a couple of windows apiece, sloping up at the top where the attic might well be. 

You close your eyes, taking one more deep breath. You look down at yourself—not dressed the fanciest in the world, but presentable enough, in your opinion. Plus, you made a point to comb your hair and shower before heading out. Outside, you’re about as good as you’re going to get.

The question, of course, is inside. 

You’ve been running through several scenarios in your mind—or rather, your mind has been running them through you. It’s never been your best friend for most of your life to begin with, but you and it have been on extra bad terms with each other since they tore you to pieces all those years ago. Fear and suspicion have lived so long in your head that they now color your perception of every person who tries to touch you, and these three are no exception. 

First off, Marcy. She’s sweet and all, if a little on the airheaded side of things in spite of her clear exceptional intelligence. Despite your mutual talents for talking each other’s ears off, however, most of your convos never turn to your personal lives, in part because she seems to…well, never want to talk about it. She always tends to look down, or in directions other than your gaze. Like she’s far off from that moment and into one from the distant past. One with a lot of secrets.

Too many secrets.

What do they contain? Do you want to know? Is it something that can hurt you if you don’t? How long do you let her play this out before demanding she come clean? And are you willing to lose her as a friend because of it, like you have so many others--?

You shake your head in a violent motion. You’d better get this show on the road before you change your mind.

You pull out your phone, pulling Marcy’s contact info up. “I’m here!” you text. You add a smiley face for good measure.

A minute passes. Two. You start to wonder if maybe you’ve got the wrong house, after all.

Ding!

“Be ready in five! Just need to finish the main course lol,” Marcy replies. For a moment, you’re confused as to why they don’t just let you in and make you wait in the living room or something. Then comes the second ding! “Still trying to clear the last of the smoke from the oven. Wouldn’t want you to die from carbon-dioxide poisoning before the loves even get to meet you,” she adds, throwing in a sweating-smile emoji for punctuation.

You begin to smile and sweat at the same time, too, though not for the same reasons she is right now. Loves, she called them. And they might be possessive. Which means getting too close to any of them, too quick—but to Marcy in particular—equals a high chance of getting eaten alive by them. In any case, you need to sit down and get your thoughts a hair more together. Strategy was key for a successful night here, after all.

You take a quick glance at the porch, and notice that there’s a swinging chair hanging from the right-hand side of the eaves. Three, maybe four people wide. Perfect. You waste no time in marching up the steps and making yourself comfortable, taking care to keep your toes dug into the wood of the porch floor so that you’re not swinging all over the place. Once you’re settled, the thoughts catch up to you again.

Strategy, comes the first offering from your subconscious. A fitting word for this situation. One an ex-military leader like Sasha would appreciate.

Sasha. Right. The blonde double-sword warrior whose severing of the interdimensional demon’s cord—umbilical? medical? The public debate still raged—was now perhaps the second-most iconic news image in recent memory, of course to Anne—

A full-body shiver strikes you. Not now. Not right this second. And why are you feeling so cold as you’re sweating, anyway? Isn’t it 75 and sunny? You squeeze your eyes shut a moment, then reopen them, determined to keep them on the porch floor for now. Okay. Time to focus.

Determination, your brain titters. And focus, too. I wonder how many more appropriate words we can add to the vocabulary list of Sasha descriptors before we—

“Shut. Up,” you growl. Frog, you wish you could just grab the jokers that liked to snatch the microphone for your thoughts and crucify them against the wall, sometimes. You can dream, can’t you?

Dreams, your mind responds. You’ve been having all SORTS of dreams about Sasha, haven’t you?

Much as you hate to admit it, you have. And many of them haven’t been pleasant.

Ever since the footage of that fateful day was uploaded for all to see and meme, you’ve developed a nasty habit of rewatching it over and over along with millions of others. It’s become a bad combination with your memories of them, but Sasha’s clips, though brief compared to Anne’s, are anything but merciful in how they’ve impacted your psyche. For starters, they helped you develop a deep fear and suspicion of anyone with combat training, in particular those teenaged or older with any kind of military background. For another, one of the few things Marcy has deigned to mention about her wives is that Sasha, like them, seems to have a chronic short fuse even outside of battle, and you know all too well the various kinds of body discoloring that can result from someone with a loose emotional grip. All well and bad, to be sure. But that’s not even the worst part.

The worst part is the dreams.

It’s enough of a struggle to get to sleep these days anyway, has been for years. But once sleep comes…the horrors are often indescribable. Them, seeming to save the day and the city from the invasion—and then continuing to kill, and kill, and kill, until you’re the last Angelino standing, begging for mercy and a second chance that will never come. Sasha and them, together, tying you up and forcing you to watch their plans for a dictatorial new world order come into fruition, with your eyes being taped open to deprive you of sleep for good measure. Sasha alone this time, in your house that you bought with your own money, stalking you, beating you with a cup, and then her fists, and then her boots, because it’s just so fun to torture you for being so weak and helpless and not wanting to learn how to fight like she does, then taking the sword from her beltline and tearing your heart out with it, with watching you lose consciousness and your life being so funny to see that she just keeps laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing and—

Ding!

“Jesus!” you shout. Your toes lose their grip on the porch floor, and you’re quite certain at least a couple of the neighbors heard you. As you wait for the swing to run its course, you look down. Your upper body is now soaked in sweat. Great. Just great. At least you can use the weather as an excuse, you hope.

The swing comes back to center position, and your breathing has returned to a manageable level. You waste no time checking out the text that startled you from your poisonous reverie.

“Gonna be another 5 before we’re ready, love! SO SO sorry to keep you waiting outside,” it reads, punctuated by a frown. “Smoke alarms going off ALL over the house now, so now we’re trying to keep the food, furniture, AND you from getting soaked. Try and enjoy the sun! Will text again when we’re all done.”

Smoke alarms? You scrunch your face. Then, you hear the faint, shrieking beeps coming from inside, the detector in the living room behind you losing its mind as you felt like you were not a few moments ago. Perhaps that was why you didn’t catch it the first time. And as for poor Marcy…well, she’s confided to you about being a walking disaster before, but this? This is another level. You wonder if these are the kinds of pratfalls Sasha and Anne have to deal with every day. And what their limits are for tolerating it.

More to the point, you wonder about Anne’s limits for tolerating it.

For tolerating you.

Unlike Sasha’s limited footage, Anne’s is so extensive that breakdowns of her fight with the mad King Andrias are plentiful on social media. What that’s meant for you is plentiful opportunities for every punch, kick, shot, and word between the two of them to be burned into your mind. Bad enough that every moment of combat itself raises their specter in your mind, and that the additional sounds of shattered windows, wrecked cars and buildings, and ear-piercing screaming churn your stomach. Even these things, however, pale in comparison to how Anne powers up—and how it all ends.

First, the power-up. By some grace of the multiverse’s cosmic forces, she had—has? —the ability to go from regular, brown-skinned Thai to a glaring, snarling, blue-haired demigod of immense power. The aura itself is intimidating enough, but the changing of her eyes from brown to icy blue is unnerving. And that voice. Oh frog, that voice—a voice at once hers and that of a power far beyond comprehension, one even angels and demons alike would tremble from in fear. Her power in this state is (was?) nothing to sneeze at, either—she could fly, summon swords, dismantle enormous missiles, knock the block off of dozens of robots, take insane physical punishment. All primo nightmare fuel for someone prone to conflating, extrapolating, and associating. But even this—even this—doesn’t stack up to the real reason you can’t sleep at night anymore.

The way the fight ends.

For all the damage and punishment the two dealt Los Angeles and each other up to this point, it was at least comprehensible thanks to its striking similarity to that of a superhero showdown in a Marvel or DC film. Even when Anne, demonic voice and all, began to tear down the leviathan about his inability to open his heart or follow his true feelings, it felt, cruel as it was, familiar enough. Precedent, after all, bred familiarity and minimized shock value, the key ingredient to creating trauma. Which made what happened next all the more insane.

There were two occasions in the fight where Anne lost her grip on her powers. The first time, she’d been clocked enough by the king’s fists and missiles to make a mini-crater in the helipad of a nearby hospital, where she appeared to be down for the count—that was, before some FBI agents on the scene had the bright idea of using enormous loudspeakers to play one of her favorite songs, a move that brought her and her powers back and is now the reason you still struggle to listen to K-Pop on the radio anymore. The second time, however, was where things began to defy description.

Alongside Anne and Sasha, there were dozens of the aforementioned FBI agents, some military, and a host of creatures—from the other dimension, it was presumed—battling all manner of robots and perverted animals on the street level. Among them was a small family of what appeared to be anthropomorphic frogs, from which the event itself would get its name. One of the more well-known images from the day was when they began a strange, hypnotic dance that would end up subduing a pair of mutated herons responsible for much of the early damage. It was one of these smaller frogs—Sprig, you seem to remember Anne calling him in the fight footage—that stepped in as a meat shield when Anne seemed to just lose her glow all at once, leaving her on the physical brink and ripe for a finishing blow from the titan. A single slingshot to the dome to get his attention. Then…the speech.

There are internet denizens who can quote the whole thing chapter and verse, but you’ve never been one of them. Something about the necessity of change, feelings repressed, and following one’s heart when the moment comes, all coming from the soul of someone once near and dear to the king long since lost to time and regret. All you know is that the letter Sprig read to Andrias appeared to have moved him to tears, to the point where he began to wail about the accruement of his sins being too high to overcome and pounding the roof of the building they were both on. And yet…Anne didn’t care.

She just. Didn’t. Care.

No matter that her enemy had seen the light, no matter that his subsequent redressing himself into the armor he’d been using the whole time looked involuntary, no matter that she seemed ready to hear him out for a second before his re-armoring appeared to be all it took to convince her otherwise.

She kept trying to power herself back up. To rear back for one last blow. A couple of snaps of the fingers. A spark. Then all blue again, circling back around, picking up speed as she—from what you remember of the footage available—aimed straight for the frog’s heart. The king himself, frozen for a moment, then waiting until the last possible second before disarming himself again, eyes closed, arms spread wide, embracing the inevitable—a gesture that even the most hardened of war veterans would give pause over, reflexes permitting.

Anne did not give pause. 

She killed him.

Oh, everyone debates whether the king died from the blow, citing deceptive camera angles and trajectories and combat philosophy. But you know.

You know better.

You can’t speak for creatures from other universes, but you know for a fact that not a single one of Earth’s would have survived a direct shot like that. And that the king, torn limb from limb, never moved much again. And that Anne, smiling and triumphant over her deed, took one last look at him, went up to the floating castle for something (someone?), and came back to drag his body up to it before the castle vanished into the portal from whence it came. 

All of this, burned into your memory. And that blow. That last blow, that image seared into the brains of everyone who lived through that day but yours in particular—THAT’S what keeps you up at night. What wakes you up, shaking, crying, sweating, hyperventilating. 

Because she could do it to you.

“GAAAAAH!” you scream, yanking yourself out of your daymare. As your feet kick out and the swing begins to go again, it turns out you are, in fact, hyperventilating, and your heart rate is an easy two-and-a-half beats per minute. You look around for something, anything that will get it under control before you pass out. 

You check your pockets. Nothing. And you didn’t bother bringing a bag with you. Dammit.

You cock your head in every direction you can, discovering that your scream somehow didn’t bring a single curious neighbor out to inspect the unholy noise. Nor did anyone from the Boonchuy-Plantar house come to check you out. Yet.

Okay. Time for a last resort.

You cup your hands together as tight as you can, then thrust them onto your nose and mouth. Out, in. Out, in. Easy now. Slow it down. Not so high and low, now.

Out, in. Out, in.

On this goes for about two minutes. The breathing stabilizes to something resembling normal, as does your pulse. You’re shaking again, but that will be easy enough to hide. So will the tears that are now intermixed with the sweat flowing from your hair. What won’t, however, is the icy feeling in the back your head, or the slowness with which your body now moves. Whatever. You can figure that out as you go tonight.

Ding!

You jump again, almost dropping your phone as you pull it back out of your pocket. Stabilizing the bottom of the phone against your chest, you see another text from Marcy.

“All done! Ready when you are! Just ring the doorbell and I’ll come let you in,” it reads. Below the message, a second one that came in just as you were reading the first: “SO sorry again about making you wait. Hopefully you didn’t get too bad of a sunburn!” A sweating-smile emoji punctuates the text.

You have to smile at that one. You, a native Angelino, getting sunburned? One might as well be worried about a Republican becoming governor of the state any time soon. Letting out a small snort, you find yourself a bit more relaxed. Good. You’re going to need your happy face on for this one.

You stand up, legs still wobbling a bit. You limp your way over to the door and use the doorframe to straighten yourself. One last exhale, and a straightening of your top. 

Then, you ring the doorbell.

[zionmantis]

I would love to hear about how the DE speaks to your experiences with psychosis!

DE seems to be an attempt to represent thinking through game/story mechanics, and I really appreciate that it doesn’t seem to just represent “normal” thought but also neurodivergent or dysfunctional thoughts. Made me feel seen, so I’d love to hear how it made you feel, if it’s something you’d want to share!

Ah, thanks for the ask! I hope my tags on your post didn't seem rude; reading back I was so worried they did <3 You made an absolutely wonderful post; I wouldn't have reblogged it if I didn't love it. I'm ADHD too, and it's so great to see a character we can relate with and to see how positive reinforcement from a person like Kim can really make a difference.

Excuse me while I ramble a bit! This is stuff I want to post about all the time but I worry people will hate it, so questions like this really make me happy because it gives me an excuse x)

One of the reasons I adore this game more than any other is that it's both breathtakingly sad as well as absolutely hysterical, and humor is how I've started approached my issues of mental illness in the past. Now, that way is not for everyone; some people don't want any sort of laughter at it, and that's completely valid and makes perfect sense, but humor is just how I've been able to adjust to memories of really bad times in my life without completely hating myself. For me, the game does a really good job of making a hard subject funny without making it seem like we're laughing AT Harry, if that makes sense, even if we think some of his antics are hilarious. I also love love love that that humor is also tackling the, mmm, less "romantic" (?I'm not sure that's the word I want to use for this...maybe "palatable"?) issues that can come with severe mental illness. Like if I remember right, there's a nonstandard ending where Harry can end up living under a bridge and throwing his own shit at people who pass by, pff.

For me it was a surprise to come into this fandom and find that not everyone sees what he's going through as being psychosis (same with ADHD; he absolutely has that, at least to me). I've seen a couple people -- I think it was on Reddit -- argue that what Harry experiences is not psychosis and is just a manifestation of his thought processes and impulsive behavior, and for me that is just...wild xD (and I know I'm preaching to the choir here, but it's fun to discuss, I think?)

But here's the deal for me: if someone sticks their thumb up their ass in public because their friend dared them to and they think it will be funny, that's impulsive behavior. If someone sticks their thumb up their ass in public because a voice in their head told them it would make them a better detective, that's a delusion.

So what does that have to do with me? Well, for me, I have a rare diagnosis of OCD with psychotic features, and (gonna put the rest of this under a cut in case it's triggering for people to read about psychotic episodes)

mine, before being involuntarily (but needed at the time) hospitalized twice and properly medicated, tended to be things like...I would think my limbs were detaching themselves from my body, or one time I wouldn't open my eyes for literally almost two days because I thought all sharp-cornered objects would cut them. Hallucinations would involve seeing what I thought was my skin being pulled as my limbs detached and occasional auditory hallucinations of crowds in my head (where I'd then think they were trying to tell me something Important and drive myself crazy sitting and listening to unreal crowd burble noises), but none of the stuff fiction likes to show because it's easier to depict (never had voices in my head telling me to do stuff or saw a super clear hallucination of a person or monster unless you count sleep paralysis. There were occasional shadows and vague faces that move in walls which I still get when I'm extra tired, but the only times I ever thought those things were real was when my brain was telling me I was receiving otherworldly messages.) There were other things, too, behavioral stuff I'd rather not talk about because it's still so shameful for me.

I thankfully respond really well to medication, which is especially good since OCD with psychosis is notoriously hard to treat since the types of drugs for OCD vs. psychosis seem to do the exact opposite things and block one another.

Anyway, back to DE. This is a bit...shallow, but it was extremely refreshing to play a game where the main character is at least as big of a disaster as me, if not worse xD;. I FEEL SO SEEN, haha, and not only that, but it's a protagonist in an extremely popular game, and fans like him anyway??? That's fantastic. I never thought I'd see the day.

Now, why does he have psychosis -- as in what diagnosis? I'm not sure, but I don't think it'd be OCD with psychotic features like me (even if he potentially has OCD, which I'll discuss in a moment.) I'd say he probably has bipolar 1 and/or (since not unusual to be comorbid), schizophrenia, though I lean more toward bipolar 1 even though the game itself says the word "schizophrenia" out loud a couple times. (To be clear, I'm not a mental health professional, but I don't think the writers of DE are, either. I would also like to say that if anyone reading this is schizophrenic and feel that Harry is as well, your opinion is way more valid than my own and I'd love to hear from you.)

I lean toward bipolar 1 because of the obvious -- he's gone through both manic and depressive stages in the past and does so in the game with a ton of delusional thinking combined with (short-lived or skin-deep) inflated sense of self (Superstar Cop, Honor Cop, etc.) It's also well known that folks with bipolar tend to self medicate. It's less well known that bipolar often has psychotic features as well.

As for an argument for schizophrenia, I'd point toward Apocalypse Cop, that paranoid delusion (??? mmaaaaybe, haha,) about the world ending (I really only know about paranoid schizophrenia; I don't know much about the other types, so it's entirely possible Harry has one of those instead,) as well as his lack of awareness about hygiene, though that could maybe be explained by his amnesia and the fact he was on a days-long bender before the game started. The reason I'm a little bit hesitant toward it is because Harry seems too aware of his own problems and the fact that he is not experiencing life the way most other people do, (he actually questions Kim at the beginning if Kim also hears voices,) and the couple people I met in the hospital that had schizophrenia were (when still adjusting to medications or had yet to find something that would work for them,) really unable to have that kind of self-awareness.

As for the OCD, I'm not as sure of that for him like I am with ADHD and either his bipolar and/or schizophrenia, but I think there's some pretty good arguments to be made. To me, Harry's constant harping on things that no one else thinks is interesting or important is a factor of his ADHD but can *feel* like OCD, but more so when he is stuck in verbal loops, which could definitely actually be OCD rather than, say, brain damage, since he seems to be aware that he's doing it. Some of the more bullying Skills also feel SO much like OCD, the ones telling him to do things that are nonsensical and that he doesn't actually seem to want to do feels like -- just for one of my many, many non-hallucinatory, fully OCD moments in my life -- when I just had to put a lit match in my mouth because if I didn't, *everyone I love would die,* pff. (Spoiler alert: it burns and it tastes weird.) Actually, I'm just now realizing why Authority may have been one of my least favorite Skills, as funny as its situations could get (ICE COP HAT FUCK SHOW?!??!?)

Anyway, I'm sorry for such a long answer to your question, @linisiane, but it made me so happy you asked! I really appreciate your question. This game is so good for making most people with any kind of neurodivergence feel good. I think it might be the most important fictional thing (for my own well-being) I've ever found. There's so much you can say about it. In fact, I know I've forgotten some stuff I wanted to talk about, but oh well! I can always add or something later if I feel like it. If anyone has any questions about this, you're very free to ask me. I'm also super excited to start talking to more people in the DE fandom; I have yet to convince any of my friends to play it for more than ten minutes.

I love y'all so much! I mean it. This fandom is great.

[thundamoo]

In response to your last reblog:

I just wanted to say I absolutely adore your books. I only wish I had discovered VM sooner, that I could have watched it develop in real-time.

I love all of the main characters (and side characters for that matter) deeply and think you have an incredible talent for eliciting understanding of varied personalities and minds. You take characters who would at best be tragic villains elsewhere and make them so much more. I love that when you make moral complexity, it is truly complex with the evil acts actually feeling deeply terrible while being totally understandable for the characters. That they are neither excused nor excessively demonised.

And you write characters with brains that remind me of my own at various points in my life. Its scary sometimes!

Also, everyone is incredibly gender all the time. I am not above saying that much as I'd be terrified I'd willfully walk into Penny's clinic for the monster transition magic.

So uh, hope this ramble was welcome! I just wanted to show appreciation for your work. It's definitely going to stick with me and inspire my own creative endeavours I think.

Aww! Thank you so much! I think it's profoundly important to look at good and evil with a clear lens and avoid excessive justification or demonization. It's easy and satisfying to look at evil, direct hate at anyone who participates in it, and call it a day. But the more you look at why people are the way they are, the more you analyze the path that took them there, the more it's easy to realize that you could have ended up on that path, and you might not have been strong enough, smart enough, wise enough, or kind enough to get off it any more than they did. Being good is a responsibility I believe we all have. But it is also, in many ways, a privilege. At many times in my life I have found myself realizing that it wasn't due to my own merit that I can consider myself kind. I could have, probably even would have, ended up a bigot or a narcissist or otherwise a very cruel person, were it not for the help of better people around me. I think we should all try to remember that, when people hurt us. Sometimes, you have to fight monsters. That is an undeniable fact of life. But wherever you can, show kindness to them instead, and you might be surprised by the person you find underneath.

[ogamagirl]

Hello! I've been thinking about getting into magical girl anime recently and I noticed you reblogging stuff from a lot of different ones, so I figured it'd make sense to come to you with this: Do you have any good starter magical girl anime recs? I'd prefer something light and fun if possible :>

OH GOODNESS I am more than happy to recommend you some magical girl anime, I LOVE magical girls, it's one of my favorite anime genres!! I hope you don't mind me answering this on my blog haha, gives me an excuse to ramble x3

My favorite magical girl franchise is Pretty Cure - most often abbreviated and refered to as Precure. It's a sprawling franchise that's been going on for the past 21 years now so it SEEMS daunting, but the cool thing about Precure is each season is its own self contained story with its own plot and cast of characters. There are two continuities with two seasons (the original Futari wa Precure and its sequel Futari wa Precure Max Heart, and Yes Precure 5 and its sequel Yes Precure 5 GoGo!), but otherwise each continuity is one season, usually between 47-50 episodes long (each season lasts one full year of broadcast time).

The best way to start with Precure imo is to look at summaries/character designs and see which one sounds most interesting to you - there's no "order" to watch them in since they're all their own stories! Precure is a children's franchise so things are generally light enough, but there are definitely some seasons that touch on/deal with heavier topics. If you'd like my personal recommendations for "light and fun" seasons of Precure, I'd recommend Smile Precure and KiraKira Precure a la Mode!

Smile Precure is about Miyuki, a girl who loves fairy tales, being tasked by the fairy Candy from Marchenland to assemble a team of 5 Precure to collect Cure Decor and revive the queen. It's bright, cheerful, and silly - I love the central cast and art style so much! A word about this season - this season was dubbed into English under the title "Glitter Force", which changed all names to English ones and cut out a handful of episodes (I believe the ones most heavily focused on Japanese culture that the dub team couldn't easily change to anything else). I personally do not recommend watching it like this! In all cases as far as Precure is concerned I recommend watching the original subtitled Japanese version.

KiraKira Precure a la Mode is about Ichika, a girl who loves sweets and dreams of becoming a patisserie. She meets Pekorin, a fairy that can detect "kirakiraru", an energy contained in sweets that represent their feelings, which evil fairies start to steal. Ichika becomes a Precure to protect the sweets and forms a team of Precure that open up their own mobile sweet shop together. One of the things that's unique about this season are the fights - one of Precure's claims to fame is the high amount of physical fighting/hand-to-hand combat it contains. KiraKira tones that element down after previous seasons were seen as "too intense", so the fights in this season are more magic/special attack based. This annoyed some people, but I personally think KiraKira's a great, fun, unique entry to the franchise! (And the fights came back next season, so it's not like they were gone forever lol).

Apart from Precure, I'd also recommend Ojamajo Doremi!

It's about Doremi Harukaze, the self proclaimed "unluckiest pretty girl in the world"; one day she stumbles upon a mysterious shop run by an old woman who looks like a witch. When Doremi calls her out, she turns into a "magic frog" - she WAS indeed a witch, and this is what happens to witches who are discovered in the human realm. The witch, Majo Rika, therefore enlists Doremi as a witch apprentice to help her turn back to normal. Ojamajo Doremi is really special - it's a more episodic series (tho there is an overarching plot each season) that really cares about its world and characters, it's so well written and wonderfully charming and funny and warm, really can't recommend it enough!

And for a final recommendation for now, I'll mention Cardcaptor Sakura!

A true classic of the genre, this is about a girl named Sakura Kinomoto who discovers a mysterious book in her father's library; upon opening it she scatters the deck of cards contained within and releases the creature that was sealing them. This creature, Cerberus (but you can call him Kero-chan), informs Sakura that she must now track down and capture these cards, called the Clow Cards, to prevent disaster from occuring. The card capturing element grants it a "monster of the week" flavor, but this is another sweet series focused on Sakura and her relationships first and foremost, and it's a real treat.

I think these are enough to get you started! If you want more recommendations definitely don't hesitate to ask - I started with these because you asked for light and happy, but I also enjoy darker magical girl anime as well so if you ever want to explore that route I'd have recommendations there too!

[lucienne-thee-librarian]

For the choose violence ask game: 3,4, and 7 for The Sandman

Thanks nonny! I see how hard people lit up for the Choose Violence ask game and I'm like...you know what I gotta give the people the salt we've all clearly been craving 🤣

3 and 4 (worst take you've ever seen on tumblr/what was the last strae that made you block someone) I'm combining into one cause I fortunately haven't dealt with anyone actually harassing me on here, over fandom drama specifically anyway (yet). OKAY so you all are going to hear about the cold take I saw that lives in my brain rent free that made me unfollow and block a mutual in a fit of rage and bafflement.

Picture being me, a month or two ago. I'd recently followed someone on the spot cause they'd had such a good meta about queer!Rose headcanons. They followed me back. Cool. Everything's Gucci. And then I realize how much of their blog is Dreamling. Okay, I can tag filter or unfollow if it bothers me.

And then I saw them dead ass go into the part of the comics where Ishtar is talking to Dream in Brief Lives, and she says "You really don't like women, do you?"

(Which, ouch, but given his previous behavior, not at all an unfair comment.)

And this person's takeaway was, I shitteth you not, a rambling diatribe about how maybe the reason all Dream's relationships keep failing meanwhile he's friends with Hob Gadling, is that maybe...he's not that Into Women!!

Yeah. Seriously. Definitely not the emotional problems, lack of consistent communication and ability to maintain a relationship long term for various reasons, Definitely not the pride and anger problem that got him to send Nada to hell, which literally the entire arc of Season of Mists involved him trying to fix, no, all this can be waved away with what might as well have been a longer-winded version of that corny ass 2000s era meme "Sometimes a man...hurts a woman...because his soulmate is a man!!" And before you ask - no, this person didn't appear to be joking. I seriously wanted to believe it was satire but NOPE. So now you all have to suffer the knowledge that some people (because it was being just reblogged uncritically to praise) seriously think like this. I swear I lost braincells that day.

7. What character did you begin to hate not because of canon but the way the fandom acts about them? Well...oh you know. Hobert Gadling. Easy.

Look, I was never His Biggest Fan for. Obvious reasons stated below, but he's interesting when you look at him as a direct parallel and contrast to Dream - both of these men/man-shaped beings are immortal and have done absolutely horrendous, unforgivable things to others in their long lives, between Dream's sending a woman he supposedly loved to Hell for breaking it off with him, and Hob's participation in the slave trade. And now, the question is...what do they do with this? How do you live with yourselves, having done things you can never make up for? DO you choose to go on living? Then again the critical difference between them among others - Hob has the ability to choose to maintain his immortality, or not. Dream doesn't - or doesn't feel he can safely choose to abandon the role he was born into.

But the sheer SCALE to which the fandom has constantly, utterly erased the worst of this man's atrocities, like flat out refuses to acknowledge they even exist in both show and comics (it would be one thing entirely if they cut that bit out of the show I'd understand people going feral over show Hob then, but. They did not so where's people's excuse) so they can push him and Morpheus into the mold of their ship is...honestly kind of amazing (derogatory) and has driven me to wanting to grind my teeth every time I saw the ship and eventually, him, until I recently finally wised up and filtered tags. And what also irks me - that they've taken OVER the fandom to the point where it's getting genuinely hard to impossible to go into the tags of any other characters including Rose and Lucienne especially without MOST OF IT being about them being sidelined as cheerleaders in some way for this ship. And if you tag filter and block then that just means their tags are suddenly vastly diminished or full of "this post has filtered tags" "this post has filtered tags" "this post-" ughhhhhh.

[coratorium]

to kind of elaborate on a tangent off my last reblog i was talking recently about An Incident that occurred a few years ago in a discord community i used to be a part of, that was primarily run by a twitch streamer. long rambling post about arguing and shit-slinging to follow.

to make a long story short there was some long-term resentment building between the streamer and some of their moderators and popular users. this eventually broke out into a large, extremely public argument that lasted multiple days (it was a server full of leftists, so... people loved to debate). the argument ultimately lead to about half the users (a couple hundred people) leaving the discord for another community.

at the time i was heavily involved in damage control. it was probably the most i ever got involved in that community, ironically- i spent a lot of hours staying up extremely late talking things out with people, trying to sort out who had said what and when, what we could learn from that, how we could make amends and move forward. i ended up giving up after the users in question all either left or got banned, and the streamer seemed too defensive to change in any meaningful way.

i think i, at least, learned something from all of that mess. there were so many accusations being slung around that basically boiled down to "you made me feel uncomfortable, and i didn't know what to do about that". i'm not trying to downplay the seriousness of that- when negative feelings like that fester with no outlet, it can have a serious effect on your life. i've spent years in a precarious living situation with people i have to appease to ensure my survival. like, i get it.

however, people really liked to take this and spin it as clinically as they could- as if it were a moral failing on the streamer's part. i saw a lot of terms being used like "emotional abuse", "toxic relationship", "abuse of power", etc, that i honestly feel were exaggerations. in fact, a lot of the people i saw making these claims went on to act the same way themselves in the future... one of the moderators who claimed the streamer was abusing their power by making unilateral decisions did the same thing to me when i was in their server, overriding their mod team to punish me directly.

i don't think they were power tripping or abusing me or anything. i think they just didn't like me, and were willing to compromise their own principles to get me to stop. sometimes that's... all there is to it, really?

it feels better if you have a "good reason" not to like someone or something, and that can drive people to come up with excuses but, at the end of the day, sometimes you just don't like a guy! that's okay! you can find someone fucking obnoxious without having to have a reason for it! you don't have to spend hours debating whether them making a joke at your expense one time was an act of abuse or not. you don't have to dig for dirt on someone to justify blocking them on twitter. you don't have to find reasons not to make an account on a website! you can just not do that! you can just not like a guy!

i think the internet would be a better place if more people had this mindset about relationships. a friend invited me to their personal discord a couple days ago and i met their friends and we talked a bit. we had a lot in common but we didn't quite click... someone picked a fight with me, i made some jokes that didn't land, people didn't really seem to like me. after a while i realized that i had started only reading the server out of a sense of obligation, at which point i questioned why i was even doing it. i barely know these people. i don't owe them shit. i can just leave! i can mute the server and never talk there again! it can just end there! and, again, i don't think any of them were bad people, or being malicious, or anything like that. i don't think they truly caused harm to me in any way. we just didn't get along. that's fine. you can break ties with people without a callout post getting involved.

hell, it would probably even have been better to get confrontational about it. air the bad feelings out before they have any time to fester. that's also an option. a lot of people are too scared to say anything when they have a problem with somebody... i know i've been there. you can just talk it out. what's the worst that happens? it escalates and now you have a real reason never to talk to each other again? seems better than pretending to not have an issue for months or years while slowly building up to a huge and very public fight.

i think people get kind of attached to this idea they have in their minds of... being able to tell their whole side of the story and have everyone support them. see all of the little ways that they have been done wrong by this other person and agree with them, tell them at last "YES you're right that's so bad! that wasn't your fault!" and then just have it all be over immediately, their antagonist fleeing into the sunset never to be seen again, humiliated at having been so thoroughly exposed for their shameless behavior.

nothing is ever that simple. most of the time, the people who are making you feel bad have no idea they did it. sometimes, YOU'RE also making THEM feel bad. but people try to stick to their narrative anyway- i'm the victim here, these are my complaints, anything i did to the other guy was justified by them being worse than me. nothing they did could possibly be justified at all. please agree with me so they'll have to leave me alone and then i'll feel better. it's sickening.

you can't carry around grievances like that. being frustrated with other people is a normal part of life and you need to find an outlet for it. find friends you trust who you can bitch to when you're having a bad time. learn to actually talk to people, or just learn to leave and move on with your life. do something besides stockpiling bad experiences to use as ammunition for your callout posts.

and yes, before i get some smarmy comment, obviously there are actual cases of people doing shit heinous enough that you need to make the general public aware of it or need help dealing with the situation. most interpersonal conflicts i see online are far pettier than this and could be easily solved with better communication. use your own judgement.

[dhaaruni]

Hi! Hope you’re having a good day - mines been pretty shit tbh so if the tone of this is dumb I’m sorry and it’s also very long and rambling so feel free to ignore but I’m just kind of shocked to see you defend being bdsm (aka being against the sexualisation of abuse and violence particularly against women)?

Like ‘what a man does in the privacy of his own home is his own business’ has always been peoples response to mens abuse. I just don’t understand how is it not incredibly fucked to get off on abuse? How is the physical damage done when strangling/beating/hurting someone in one of the millions of ways people (men) hurt each other (women) different when done consensually? If my boyfriend hits me during sex why is it a big deal if he does it during an argument if he didn’t even hit me as hard during the argument as he did in bed? What if he strangled me in bed (something that could kill me and is one of the biggest indicators that a man will kill you) then hitting me isn’t actually that bad in comparison considering the level of harm. What is the difference between ‘after care’ and bringing your girlfriend flowers after hitting her? How does it not create the same trauma bond? A lot of people into bdsm make it very clear that they are mentally unwell (not judging, I am too just different poor coping mechanisms) and I just don’t see how being a masochist different from self harm. How is bdsm not the biggest example of rape culture? How can you recognise the patriarchy’s influence on so many womens choices but not the choice to want to submit sexuality? How are teen girls supposed to cope with their boyfriends literally wanting to beat and rape them but all the adult sources around them are telling them thats totally normal and not dangerous they just need to consent? Because teenage girls are amazing at enforcing their boundaries and totally don’t give in to peer pressure or do things they don’t want to do for male approval. How are you meant to break up with a man who you know enjoys and is capable of beating and raping you?

TLDR : I’m just trying to understand your perspective because it seems very contradictory to your other views like being against rape, violence against women, anti racist, anti incest ect. just everything that bdsm sexualises and normalises

No you're all good, I don't mind answering lol. I'm not letting this be reblogged for obvious reasons though.

I completely agree with you in that societally speaking, BDSM is constantly used to excuse violence against women and it's really fucked up to get off on hurting others, and any man that says they're into BDSM on principle should likely be in jail.

That said, I also think that in the context of consensual romantic sexual relationships between adults, it's possible to enjoy certain things on occasion that aren't super vanilla on principle. And, I'm not really talking about hookups here, I'm talking long-term relationships with people you trust lol. I'm also not giving teenagers sex advice and I think "blowjobs are empowering" feminism that young millennials and Gen Z was raised on did more harm than good to our perceptions of healthy sexuality, but the rumors are true: I, an unmarried adult woman, enjoy sex with people I romantically like and trust as people lmao.

But to clarify, I'm really not a proponent of anything truly extreme, and I'm extremely intentional about setting boundaries and if anybody crosses them, they get blocked and banned for life. I'm generally cool with trying sex positions, but both parties always have veto privileges if something is painful or uncomfortable or simply not enjoyable. And personally, anything involving metal, spanking or hitting, choking, etc. are all total no-gos for me and I will never be swayed on that. A light hand on the neck is not remotely the same thing as asphyxiation, and to even get to that point, I need to trust the guy.

And, I would never trust let alone fuck a guy who can't get off without that stuff! My point is that it's okay to try things out, whether that's basic kink or weird sex positions that you fall out of and laugh at yourselves, not what you do every single time you have sex. If a guy whines about women being boring in bed or "vanilla," kick the man to the curb lmao.

All that said, I would never tell women they're bad people if they are against stuff I'm personally comfortable with. My point is just that sex isn't like a cut and dry thing, and it's really healthy to communicate and discuss what you like and don't like with your partner.

Does that make sense lol?

[the-dark-abyss]

I posted 65 times in 2022

That's 40 more posts than 2021!

23 posts created (35%)

42 posts reblogged (65%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sleepytime-moga

@seafoamfucker

@ma2ereki

@oda-haruko

@vampnightwing

I tagged 54 of my posts in 2022

Only 17% of my posts had no tags

#rambling - 20 posts

#mafia 3 - 13 posts

#goncharov - 12 posts

#john donovan - 8 posts

#mafia iii - 7 posts

#ouatih - 6 posts

#lincoln clay - 5 posts

#thoughts - 4 posts

#mafia 3 definitive edition - 4 posts

#cars - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 115 characters

#lincoln is my fave character but lack of fleshed out story for donovan makes me hyperfocus on him and i wanna fight

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Mafia 3

Okay so I’m gonna take the L and admit I’ve never played the other 2 games, I just watched the cut-scene movies on YouTube, and while I enjoyed the story and characters of the first 2, when I watched Mafia 3′s it DID something to me. So I actually went out and got the game so I can play it all myself.

First things first, I’m gonna wonder why people seem to hate this game so much until the day I die, sure it’s glitchy but not as bad as any Bethesda glitch I’ve seen and nothing game breaking, more or less just funny stuff like “lol that cop car exploded in the middle of the street. I’m gucci tho.”. I really like the time-period cause I actually like learning about the 60′s in American history because SO MUCH important stuff was set in motion back then. Others seem to not like how it’s nt focused on the Italian Mafia anymore and...sure?? I guess?? I mean they’re still there, you’re allied with some Italians while taking out the bigger Italian crime family (I think they’re mad that the protag is black and it’s an important part of the game tbh) And another complaint I see a lot is the games too repetitive, I think that’s the lamest excuse personally. I played this after I beat Far Cry 6, and honestly? It was NICE! I like being able to sneak and take people down, or just blow up everything!  Maybe it’s cause I’m autistic perhaps (ASD gang rise up!) but having a pattern was nice for me, I have a specific way of playing and it was fun. Hell, I’ve beat the game twice already cause it felt nice to play.

I know this game came out in 2016 and I’m way late to the party, I became aware of the Mafia series in 2021 and finally played Mafia 3 in March 2022. And I need to be physically restrained from playing it a third time lol.

See the full post

7 notes - Posted June 20, 2022

#4

Found this under Nuit Blanche in the alt escape route.

I've never seen this in the game before this is so cool!

7 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

#3

Because I’m on the Spectrum™...

I would post this on my art blog but what good would that do? I guess this is unofficially also a fandom blog... anyways

So! A thing I like doing is figuring out timelines, time frames, dates and fun stuff like that. And I gotta say, the timeline of events in Mafia 3 is INFURIATING! And according to THIS it’s the lead world designers preferred playthrough. I know I probably should take this with a huge grain of salt, but going by this it throws so many things out of wack (especially making Sign of the Times be the last DLC story you touch)

So, February 27th is when things kinda kick off, Lincoln’s friends and family are killed and he’s left for dead by the Marcanos.

Bullet wound takes on average 2 months at most to recover from (from mixed sources 😵)

Lincoln was still bed ridden when MLK was assassinated on April 4th. So I assume he was walking a bit after that, mid-April.

So mid April is when he was up moving around and getting things set up.

The DLC’s, despite not supposing to be in order, 1 of them has a specific date correlated with it.

The DLC stories become available after you get have all the under bosses and do that Sit Down mission.

The “Sign of the Times” DLC introduces character, Anna McGee, without getting too much into it, her death date on her grave is “June 6th 1968

So, set time or no, this implies the cult shenanigans happen immediately while Lincoln is getting into contact with Cassandra, Vito and Burke and he’s juggling them on top of this.

Must happen only in the span of a few days, not even a week.

For the rest of June, I guess Lincoln works at a more normal pace but still a lot going on at once.

For reason the only record date one of the Marcano Capo’s is Lou, and that’s in July, so I assume the Judge gets clapped early July.

That text at the bottom:

This threw me off but I realized it probably took a sec for the charges to process.

See the full post

10 notes - Posted July 5, 2022

#2

Hey I have a weird thought, do tumblr gays have a specific version of Brad Pitt they latch onto? There's him in Fight Club and Interview with a Vampire thats all I can think of.

I finally got a version of Brad Pitt I latched onto recently and I just kinda noticed it.

Is this common?

16 notes - Posted October 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

AND ANOTHER THING-

About Mafia 3

Some thoughts about characters and how some folks treat them:

John Donovan: Love this guy, wish I had more info about him that isn't all surface level and stuff I had to make up for a headcanon, but jeez I swear, at least on YouTube comments, it’s like people want to make him the Mafia games equivalent of Deadpool. Cause he’s “wacky” and “chaotic” and they want him to be the next games protag, once again, love this guy, but oh my god, NO! I think he works best as a side character and at most a secondary protag (like for Stones Unturned). If there was a game with him...what would it be? Just assassinate politicians in the 70′s simulator? Won’t be a Mafia game then would it unless he goes back to the Clay Family. That’s just YouTube comments I see though, but I got thoughts.

Vito Scaletta: I have to be clear, I DO LIKE Vito, but I think I liked him more in Mafia 3, very much Italian Uncle I deeply deserved in life vibes, I will admit though, even though I like him in M3, I feel like the devs leaned in on him being there as like, a selling point? While I enjoyed M2, I will admit as faves in order go, it’s Mafia 3, Mafia 1, and Mafia 2. Vito was getting dragged along for a lot of the events in M2 and boy, Joe was.... I wouldn't want him for a friend. Vito can be all messed up about what happened to Joe, but when I watched the cutscene movie for M2 I thought Joe was awful to Vito. Vito needs better friends :/ (also even tho I’m usually on team “RAIL THAT OLD MAN!” I think the Lincoln/Vito ship is odd, def not my thing and yet somehow not as offensive as the next character I’m about to bring up though.)

Giorgi Marcano: Oh boy where do I begin with him... I see...so many people sympathize with him or simp for him and it feels SO GROSS. (Imma be honest this mf is ugly he looks like a monkey with his busted hairstyle. Like if someone made a realistic Westernized Lupin the III but somehow removed all the charm from him). I feel like people seem to have forgotten he handed the Hollow over the the Dixie Mafia on a silver platter, that or they don’t care. The Hollow is the Black community in the game and the Dixie Mafia is all Southern Pride and Lynch mobs, all those Confederate flags... And I know that Giorgi KNEW THIS. I see people saying he was just doing what his dad said, and sure to an extent but it’s clear he enjoys what he does (He was so hyped to tell Sal what he did to Olivia), I will never forget what the Dixie boy’s did to Perla’s, to the young black women they forced to take drugs and exploited, the the specific targeting of the Black and Haitian communities in game, what they did to Casandra, etc. Giorgi was a spoiled violent Daddy’s boy that either was playing Lincoln, Ellis and Danny the whole time, or didn't care about them enough to even protest Sal’s orders against them. Even in his death scene, he never tried to apologize to Lincoln even if he knew the apology wouldn't have saved him. If they showed that, then sure I would at least admit he did care about Lincoln and all his friends that were killed, but no he didn't, just him and his old man. (PUTTING EEEEEVERRYYOOONE ON A LIST WHO SHIP LINCOLN/GIORGI! I CAME FROM THE FAR CRY FANDOM AND I’M SICK OF SEEING SO MUCH RACISM IN CHARACTER PORTRAYALS AND SHIPS! SICK AND TIRED!)

Game story and themes:

I will praise this game to the moon and back, despite it’s “flaws” like the glitches and game play. The glitches were not game breaking for me and I liked the game play honestly (I have ASD so that probably contributes to it). The driving is good despite me being a bad driver and I liked the how the weapons worked.

But I do have some thoughts about what I think was kinda lackluster and disappointing.

Lack of highlighting how horrible the Vietnam war was, condemning the army and the C.I.A. I know that’s so specific but you can’t have a Vietnam vet without having some kind of toll that it took on him, most of Lincoln’s trauma was mostly just centered around what happened to his family after he got back home, and some stuff in his childhood. Which is valid those things are traumatizing but idk, were the devs afraid? Also I know Donovan during the game is still technically in the C.I.A until he officially leaves in 1969, and he’s like, a big JFK stan, but like, does he know what Kennedy’s plans were for the C.I.A, is he blindly loyal? Was it game? I mean I know he does leave it but he’s been in the game for like 15 years, what’s going on? What’s all those war crimes for? Do the devs at Hangar 13 and 2K not wanna be put on some weird list? I don’t know, man.

My taste for found crime families keeps getting un-quenched: Looking back at the promo trailers showing Lincoln and all his under-bosses working together, with Donovan even tagging along, and seeing how the game actually played out... ow. The under-bosses hate each other, every convo between Lincoln and Cassandra feels like it leads to an argument, Burke was racist to Lincoln at the start, and....actually Vito seems like the most pleasant despite being a sad middle aged man so I’ve give him that. The most we get to them showing respect for each other is if you go to pick up kickback and talk more to them, then they’ll say nice things about each other.

Ex: Cassandra saying Vito isn't as bad as she thought, she thinks Burke is really fun. Vito thinking Burke is funny. And Burke having respect for what Vito's been through and weirdly enough, oddly respectful of her beliefs.

But that’s it, and they have no idea who Donovan is either even though he’s been working behind the scenes. And with how they are in game, I know they would NOT like him, I think Cassandra would hate him the most cause she gave Lincoln flak for willingly joining the army (I mean she’s right, I agree with her.).

So in that aspect I’m a little <:/ about. Not everything can be perfect.

OKAY THATS ALL FOR NOW!

25 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[duskyashe]

Not a ficlet, sorry

Okay, so today's day five of being sick, and my already tedious grip on self-care slipped today, and now I've got a dehydration headache on top of a sinus pressure headache on top of a coughing headache. It's really hard to think, and time has no meaning, so by the time I realized I should maybe try to find a prompt to write on, it was almost 10 pm and I'd only have two hours to write. Well, it's now almost 11pm, and I still haven't found one I feel I can do justice to with only an hour to work and my headache the way it is. I do have plans for prompts for the next week, so I won't have to go hunting any down, but after that, I'm hoping to be able to continue Day #8's storyline, pending the finding of the post I'm looking for (I now know for a fact it was originally from @im-totally-not-an-alien-2, so if anyone wants to go digging through their treasure trove of awesome prompts and answers for it, that'd be great!), and maybe add on to Day #2 and Day #3 if I can find another good prompt or two to draw from. If you have ideas for any of my previous ficlets, please, leave a comment, reblog the relevant ficlet, or drop me an ask with your ideas! If I like it enough, I'll use it and credit you for the prompt! It doesn't have to be a particularly fleshed out thought, either, it can just be excited ramblings.

Thank you all for your support so far, and I'm sorry I dropped the ball today (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ I'm working on getting better at taking care of myself, but sometimes life makes it difficult. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go take some pain meds and make myself some more tea...

[masterlist]