#what i have posted on this blog and not my main has been incredibly normal compared to my first two doodlesheets

[horsewiferikai]

you may have a few mental illnesses i think

That’s ok. Rikai ⭐️Pure cures all.

[cybernaght]

The fandom echo chamber: fanon, microanalysis and conspiracy brain 

As someone who has been in fandom spaces, on and off, for 20 years, I find some fascinating trends popping up in the last decade that I thought to be fandom-specific but clearly aren’t. So, I would like to do a little examination of where those things come from, how they are engaged with, and what it says about the way we consume media. This is a think piece, of sorts, with my brain being the main source. As such, we will spend some time down the memory lane of a fandom-focused millennial.

This is largely brought about by Good Omens. But it’s also not really about Good Omens at all.

Part one. Fanon.

The way we see characters in any story is always skewed by our very selves. This is a neutral statement, and it does not have a value judgement. It’s simply unavoidable. We recognise aspects of them, love aspects of them, and choose aspects of them to highlight based entirely on our own vision of the universe. 

Recognition comes into this. There is a reason so many protagonists of romance novels have a “blank slate” problem. Even when they do not, we love characters who are like us or versions of us that we would like to be. And when we say “we”, I also mean, “me”. 

(I remember very clearly this realisation hit me after a whole season of Doctor Who with writing which I hated utterly when I questioned why I still clung so incredibly hard to Clara Oswald as my favourite companion. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. Oh. Well. That would do it, wouldn’t it?)

Then, there is projection, and, again, this is a neutral statement. Projection exists, and it is completely normal and, dare I say it, valid way of engaging with — well, anything. Is the character queer? Trans? Neurodivergent? Are they in love? Do they like chocolate? Are they a cat person? Well, yes, if this is what the text says, but if the text does not say anything… You tell me. Please, do tell me. Because, in that moment of projection, they are yours. 

And then, there is fandom osmosis, and that is the most fascinating one of them all, the one that is not very easy to note while you are inside the echo chamber. It’s the way we collectively, consciously or not, make decisions on who or what the characters are, what their relationships are, and what happens to them.  

(Back when I was writing egregiously long Guardian recaps on this blog I actually asked if Shen Wei’s power being learning actually was stated anywhere in the canon of the show. Because I had no idea. I have read and reread dozen of fanfics where that is the case, and at some point through enough repetition, it became reality.)

We are all kind of making our own reality here, aren’t we? 

Back when things were happening in a much less centralised manner - in closed livejournal groups, and forums of all shapes and sizes - I don’t remember there being quite as much universally agreed upon fanon. Frankly, I don’t remember much of universally agreed upon anything. But now, everything is in one place: we have this, and we have AO3, and it’s wonderful, it really is so much easier to navigate, but it’s also one gigantic reality-shifting echo chamber, with blogs, reblogs, trends, and rituals. 

Accessibility plays its part, too. If you were, say, in Life on Mars (UK) fandom between seasons, and you wanted to post your speculation fic, you had to have had an account, and then find and gain access to one of the bigger groups (lifein1973 was my poison, but ymmv), and then, if you feel brave you may post it, but also, you may want to do so from your alt account if you wanted to keep yours separate, and then you would have to go through the whole process again. And I’m not saying that fan creations then were somehow inherently better for it than fan creations now (although Life on Mars Hiatus Era is perhaps a bad example - because some of the Speculation Fic there was breathtaking), but there is something to say about the ease of access that made the fandoms go through a big bang of sorts.

(I mean, come on, I can just come here and post this - and I am certain people will read it, and this blog is a pandemic cope baby about Chinese television for goodness sake.)

The canon transformations that happen in the fandom echo chamber truly are fascinating to witness as someone who is more or less a fandom butterfly. I get into something, float around for a bit, then get into something else and move on. I might come back eventually when the need arises, but I don’t sustain a hiatus mind-state. This means that when I float away and return, I find some very intriguing stuff.

Let’s actually look at Good Omens here. Season two aired, and I found it spectacular in its cosy and anguished way; deliberately and intelligently fanfic-y in its plot building; simple but subversive, and so very tender. (I will have to circle back to this eventually, because, truly, I love how deliberately it takes the tropes and shatters them - it’s glorious). And, to me - a person who read the book, watched the first season, hung around AO3 for a few weeks and moved on - absolutely on-point in terms of characterisation. 

So imagine my surprise when the fandom disagreed so vehemently that there are actual multi-tiered theories on how characters were not in possession of their senses. Nothing there, in my mind, ever contradicted any of the stated text, as it stood. This remained a strange little mystery until I did what I always do when I flutter close to an ongoing fandom.

I loaded AO3 and sorted the existing fic by popularity. And there it was, all there: the actual earth-shattering mutual devotion of the angel and the demon; willingness to Fall; openness and long heart-aching confession speeches. There was all of the fanon surrounding Aziraphale and Crowley, which, to me, read as out of character, and to one for whom they became the reality over the last four years, read as truth. 

Again, only neutral statements here. This is not a bad thing, and neither this is a good thing, this is just something that happens, after a while, especially when there are years for the fandom-born ideas to bounce around and stew. I can’t help but think that so much of what we see as real in spaces such as this one is a chimaera of the actual source and all the collective fan additions which had time and space to grow, change, develop, and inspire, reverberating over and over again, until the echoes fill the entirety of the space. 

Eventually, this chimaera becomes a reality. 

Part two. Microanalysis 

Here are my two suppositions on the matter:

1. Some writers really love breadcrumb storytelling. 

Russel T Davies, for instance, on his run of Doctor Who (and, if you are reading it much later - I do mean the original one), loved that technique for his seasonal arcs. What is a Bad Wolf? Who is Harold Saxon? Well, you can watch very very carefully, make a theory, and see it proven right or wrong by the end of the season. 

Naturally, mystery box writers are all about breadcrumb storytelling: your Losts and your Westworlds are all about giving you snippets to get your brain firing, almost challenging you to figure things out just ahead of the reveal. 

2. We, as humans, love breadcrumbs.

And why wouldn’t we? Breadcrumbs are delicious. They are, however, a seasoning, or a coating. They are not the meal. 

Too much metaphor?

Let’s unpack it and start from the beginning.

Pattern recognition colours every aspect of our lives, and it colours the way we view art to a great extent. I think we truly underestimate how much it’s influenced by our lived experiences.

If you are, broadly speaking, living somewhere in Western/North-Western Europe in the 14th century, and you see a painting in which there is a very very large figure surrounded by some smaller figures and holding really tiny figures, you may know absolutely nothing about who those figures are, but you know that the big figure is the Important One, and the small ones are Less Important Ones, and the tiny ones are In Their Care. You know where your reverence would lie, looking at this picture. And, I imagine, as someone living in the 14th century, you may be inspired to a sense of awe looking at this composition, because in the world you live in, this is how art works. 

If you, on the other hand, watch a piece of recorded media and see the eyes of two characters meet as the violins swell, you know what you are being told at that moment. You don’t have to have a film degree to feel a sort of way when you see a green-tinged pallet used, when cross-cuts use juxtaposing images, or notice where your focus is pulled in any given shot. This stuff - this recognition of patterns - has been trained into us by the simple fact that we live in this time, on this planet, and we have been doing so long enough to have engaged recorded media for a period of time. 

As humans, we notice things. Our brains flare up when they see something they recognise, and then we seek to find other similar details and form a bigger picture. This often happens unconsciously, but sometimes it does not. Sometimes we do it on purpose: finding breadcrumbs in stories is a little bit like solving a mystery. It allows us to stretch that brain muscle that puts two and two together. It makes us feel clever. 

So yes, we love breadcrumbs, and, frankly, quite a lot of storytelling takes advantage of this. It’s very useful for foreshadowing, creating thematic coherence, or introducing narrative parallels and complexity. It’s useful for nudging the viewer into one or the other emotional direction, or to cue them into what will happen in the next moment, or what exactly is the one important detail they should pay attention to.

Because this is something media does intentionally, and something we pick up both consciously and not, it is very hard to know when to stop. We don't really ever know when all of the breadcrumbs have been collected. It becomes very easy to get carried away. There is a very specific kind of pleasure in digging into content frame by frame, soundbite by soundbite, chasing that pleasure of finding. 

But it is almost never breadcrumbs all the way down. They are techniques to help us focus on the main event: the story. I truly believe those who make media want it to reach the widest possible audience, and that includes all of us who like to watch every single thing ever created with our Media Analysis Goggles on and those who are just here to enjoy the twists and turns of the story at the pace offered to them. And I think, sometimes in our chase to collect and understand every little clue we forget that media is not made to just cater for us.

One can call it missing a forest for the trees. But I would hate to mix my metaphors, so let’s call it missing a schnitzel for the breadcrumbs. 

Part three. The Conspiracy Brain. 

If you are there with me, in the midst of the excited frenzy, chasing after all those delicious breadcrumbs, then patterns can grow, merge together, and become all-encompassing theories. Let’s call them conspiracy theories, even though this is not what they truly are.

So, why do we believe in conspiracy theories?

One, Because We Have Been Lied To. 

All conspiracies start with distrust.

If you are in fandom spaces - especially if you are in fandom spaces which revolve around a queer fictional couple - especially-especially if you have been in such spaces for a period of time, you have most certainly been lied to at one point or another. 

We don’t even have to talk about Sherlock - and let’s not do that - but do you remember Merlin? Because I remember Merlin. Specifically, I remember the publicity surrounding the first season, with its weaponised usage of “bromance” and assertions that this whole thing is a love story of sorts, and then the daunting realisation that this was all a stunt, deliberately orchestrated to gather viewership. 

And, because we were lied to in such a deliberate manner for such an extensive period of time, I genuinely believe that it forever altered our pattern recognition habits, because what was this if not encouragement to read into things? Now we are trained to read between the lines or see little cries for help where they might not be. Because we were told, over and over again, that we should.

(Yes, I think we are all existing in these spaces coloured by the trauma of queer-bating. I am, however, looking forward to a world where I can unlearn all of that.)

Two, Cognitive Dissonance.

The chain reaction works a bit like this: the world is wrong - it can’t possibly be wrong by coincidence - this must be on purpose - someone is responsible for it.

Being Lied To is a preamble, but cognitive dissonance is where it all originates. In so many cross-fandom theories I have noticed a four-step process:

A) this is not good

B) this author could not have made a mistake 

C) this must be done on purpose

D) here is why 

(Funny thing is, I have been on the receiving end of the small conspiracy spiral, and it is a very interesting experience. Not relevant to this conversation is the fact that a lot of my job revolves around storytelling. What is relevant is that my hobbies also revolve around storytelling. And one of them is DnD. Now, imagine my genuine shock when one of the players I am currently writing a campaign for noticed a small detail that did not make a logical sense within the complexity of the world, and latched on to it as something clearly indicating some kind of a secret subplot. Their thinking process also went a bit like this: this detail is not a good piece of writing — this DM knows how to tell stories well — this is obviously there on purpose. It was not there on purpose. I created a clumsy shorthand. I erred, in that pesky manner humans tend to. And, seeing this entire thought process recited to me directly in the moment, I felt somewhere between flattered and mortified.)

This whole line of thinking, I think, exists on a knife’s edge between veneration and brutal criticism, relentlessly dissecting everything “wrong”, with a reverent “but this is deliberate” attached to it like a vice, because it is preferable to a simple conclusion that the author let you down, in one way or another. 

Three, Intentionality 

I believe that there is no right or wrong way of engaging with stories, regardless of their medium, and assuming no one gets hurt in the process. While in a strictly academic way, there is a “correct” way of reading (and reading into) media, we here are largely not academics but consumers; consumption is subjective.

However, this all changes when intentionality is ascribed. 

The one I find particularly fascinating is the intentionality of “making it bad on purpose” because, as open-minded as I intend to always be, this just does not happen.

It certainly does not happen in long-form media. Even in the bread-crumb mystery box-type long-form media. 

When television programs underdeliver, they also underperform, and then they get cancelled.

If all the elements of Westworld Season 4 that did not sit together in a completely satisfactory way were written deliberately as some sort of deconstruction for the final season to explore, then it failed because that final season will now never come.

(There will likely never be a Secret Fourth Episode.)

And look, I am not here to refute your theories. Creativity is fun, and theorising is fantastic. 

But, perhaps, when the line of thought ventures into the “bad on purpose” territory, it could be recognised for what it is: disappointment and optimism, attempting to coexist in a single space. And I relate to that, I do, and I am sorry that there is even a need for this line of thinking. It’s always so incredibly disappointing that a creator you believed to be devoid of flaws makes something that does not hit in the way you hoped it would. It’s pretty heartbreaking. 

Unfortunately, people make mistakes. We are all fallible that way. 

Four, Wildfire.

Then, when the crumbs are found, a theory is crafted, and intentionality is ascribed, all that needs to happen is for it to catch on. And hey, what better place for it than this massive hollow funnel that we exist in, where thoughts, ideas and interpretations reverberate so much they become inextricable from the source material in collective consciousness. 

Conspiracy theories create alternate realities, very much like we all do here. 

So where are we now?

I am not here to tell you what is right and what is wrong; what is true, and what is not. We are all entitled to engage with anything we wish, in whichever way we wish to do it. This is not it, at all. 

All I am saying is… listen.

Do you hear that echo? 

I do. 

[potatocitytechnology]

The Black Cat - N.YT

Kinktober Day 3

Shibari: Shibari, which translates to "decorative tying," is a form of rope bondage that originated in Japan and dates back to the seventeenth-century Edo period. Shibari involves rope made from jute or hemp and is considered an aesthetically pleasing form of BDSM.

INTRO: For the first time in your life you found something that made you feel alive and beautiful. Then you and your boyfriend broke up. Little did you know meeting Yuta would be the best thing for you and your obsession.

GENRES: Smut

PAIRING: reader (afab) x softdom!yuta

WARNINGS: profanity/swearing, rope bondage/shibari, extensive use of ropes, temperature play, blindfolding, gagging, use of a vibrating toy, a little humiliation and degradation, oral (F), crying (F), slight suspension, mentions of full suspension, reader has a rope kink?, softdom!yuta, bdsm themes - overall explicit content - PLEASE, DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS BLOG OR POST IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

WORD COUNT: 5.7k (shit.)

AUTHORS NOTE: Wow, this was not meant to be nearly 6k long... especially since i'm trying to keep all kintober works under 2k (˶ •́◡•̀ ˶) I ended up doing a decent amount of research into shibari and just couldn't keep it short (it needed a backstory!). i really wanting to write for it but i had absolutely no confidence in my ability to describe something so intricate and complicated. However, this is my interpretation of this kink with some other bdsm kinks thrown in to make it interesting. Anyways, enough of my rambling, enjoy! 𖦹 ̫ 𖦹

You met Yuta through a friend of a friend. To be honest you don’t know much about him, even after meeting up with him a few times to discuss your mutual… interests. You met up at normal places, coffee shops mostly, but this time was different. This time you were gonna do what you’d been planning all this time. 

The reason you heard of Yuta was because you were talking to your friend about why you keep going back to your ex. One of the main reasons was the sex. And trust, it wasn’t just sex. Your ex, Ethan, was into shibari. Something you never even knew about before you met him, but it quickly became your favourite obsession. 

There’s just something about the feeling you get when you're tied up, all pretty and captive. The dopamine that courses through your veins is pure addiction and the stress leaves your body immediately. Ethan made you depend on him even after you’re broken up, it being second nature to call him up when you needed your fix. You hate how much you need it. 

Yuta became relevant when your friend said she knew an old friend from Uni who was into shibari, too. She offered to get in contact with her again and ask if you and she could meet up. You were eager to say the least, not having met anyone else with the same kink aside from Ethan and you would do anything to not have to go to him anymore. 

Luckily, her friend agreed and that’s when you met up with her. Lucy is a very funny and warm hearted person. She was incredibly happy to help you learn more about rope bondage and introduce you to more people through parties and clubs. 

On one of those nights was when you first saw Yuta. However, you could say he saw you first judging by the way he stared at you for a good hour before you locked eyes with him from across the room. It was an instant attraction, your breath catching in your throat as you looked him up and down. 

He then walked over to where you and Lucy were talking with some of your new friends, an extra drink appearing in his left hand. His dark hair covered his forehead, dipping just past his brow bone. Eyes twinkling, lips full and plump as they turn into a smile. 

When he reaches you and your friends, his gaze linger on you as he introduces himself to everyone, leaving you for last. “Hi, I’m Yuta.” it’s simple the way he says it, but you can’t help but feel there’s something lying beneath it. You pay it no mind, however, introducing yourself to him. People around you start mumbling, even those caught up in… introductions, stop their activities to peer at your group. 

You can’t help but to feel shy, their unwanted attention making your eyes cast down as you try to become as unnoticeable as possible. Yuta leans in closer to you, “Don’t mind them.” And that’s when you knew he was the one you wanted to do it with. There was something about him that made you feel like he was safe and knew what he was doing. 

On the cab back to Lucy’s place she turns to you as soon as the doors shut. “Oh my god, y/n, you don’t know how big that just was.” her tone is one of disbelief and excitement but you’re absolutely confused. “What do you mean?” 

She grabs your wrist, “Yuta Nakamoto, the one who had his eyes glued to you?” you nod your head, unsure why she’s asking you a question about a guy you met two hours ago. How're you supposed to know who he is? Her eyes widened, “shit, I never told you about Yuta.” she sits back in thought and you begin to panic. Well that was ominous, what the fuck is it supposed to mean? Sure doesn’t sound good. 

She angles her face back, ready to explain while your mind reels thinking you’ve met someone who’s way past your level of expertise. “Yuta doesn’t take interest in a lot of people.” is all she says before pausing again. A frustrated look passes your face, “Lucy, what the hell is with this guy?” She nods her head. 

“Don’t worry, he can’t be bad for you.” She concludes and you give her a very unimpressed look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She lifts her shoulders, as if in some sort of defeat. “Well, I’ll put it like this,” her eyes pierce yours with a slight look of worry passing through them. “Who better to teach you the art of Japanese rope bondage than Yuta Nakamoto?” 

After that you were cautious, how could you not be? But when Yuta, somehow, got ahold of your number and invited you out for coffee, you didn’t have it in you to say no. From there you learnt what his intentions were with you. He wanted you to be his next ‘muse’. Yuta said he only picks a select few people to teach and participate in his activities, and he wanted you. 

You were hesitant, but your need to be tied surpassed your fear of the unknown. When you were discussing your inexperience with Yuta and his with you, it came up. The fact that you would do almost anything to feel the weight of rope on your skin. Yuta’s reaction was a slow nod, but you saw the look that passed through his irises. It was lust, laced with approval and it made you feel proud. 

After these few meetups, you began to be much more confident around Yuta, unafraid to say the things you wanted and him the same with you. On your last meetup, Yuta asked the question you knew was coming; “Do you want to actually do it next time?” You gulp, a lump forming in your throat. “Of course.” You nod, your eyes reassuring him that you want to do this. Besides, you refused to see Ethan for over three weeks while you’ve been talking to Yuta, and you need this. He smiles, his approval making you happy. 

That brings you to the present moment. You stand outside the address Yuta gave you to meet at. It seems like some sort of club, you think as you observe the outside of the building. Big, bold letters read on the front, ‘The Black Cat”. Spooky, you think to yourself before double checking the address, pulling your coat closer to your shivering body. 

Confirming it is the place, you tame your wildly beating heart by taking in deep breaths as you walk up to the entrance. Your stilettos click on the pavement as you do, and you can’t help but feel overdressed and underdressed at the same time. Not to mention cold, the chilly Autumn air biting at your skin. 

You hear the thumping of slow and sensual RnB resonating from within the building as you get closer, eventually only a foot from the door. Thoughts of regret rush through your mind. What the hell are you doing here? This isn’t you.

Before you get the chance to turn and hurry back to your car, a throuple pushes through the doors, startling you, as they giggle and laugh. The two girls sloppily lie kisses on the guys neck and face as they disappear into the night and you’re envious. They look like they’re having pure, carefree fun. You want that too, and right now your key to that life is waiting for you inside this building. 

Holding your breath, you push through the doors into the warm and sensual atmosphere of the club. Your eyes are greeted with dark furniture and bodies moving together as everyone minds their own business with the people they’re with. You try not to show your shock, as you walk past couches and tables where people are kissing and groping, making your way to the bar at the far end of the room. 

You grasp the surface of the bar with both hands as you roll into it. The air feels heavy in your lungs as the bartender comes over to you. “Need anything, love?” He asks, a heavy English accent lacing his voice. You go to shake your head before someone calls from behind you, “A cosmopolitan for the lady, thanks.” 

You turn around, hoping to see Yuta but instead it’s some other guy. His shirt is off, which isn’t surprising, though it’s not the way you’d introduce yourself to someone. He takes a seat beside you as you prop yourself onto the bar stool. “What’re you doing here, pretty?” He asks, a slur in his voice indicating he’s had a lot to drink. 

“Waiting for someone.” you reply, a coldness lingering in your tone. He either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care because he keeps talking. “You sure? Don’t see anyone running to claim you.” His voice is suggestive and you start to feel slimy while he eyes you up. You only hum in response, hoping he gets the hint to fuck off. 

“Pretty things that don’t get claimed around here, are taken by others.” He says, obviously thinking that you’ll jump into his arms if Yuta doesn’t show up. Luckily, you don’t have to reply as the bartender steps in, “Piss off, Tyler. She’s with Yuta.” his tone is low, like a warning and you begin to wonder just how much power Yuta has within these communities. 

“Like I give a fuck if she’s Yuta’s or not.” He laughs, swinging an arm around your shoulder and you grimace, the smell of sweat and alcohol radiating from him. “You should be.” The bartender replies, who’s name tag reads, Jordan.

The guy harassing you, Tyler laughs louder and more obnoxiously. “And where is big bad Yuta, right now, huh?” You scowl, as he shakes around you. You honestly feel like you could punch him at any second. 

Thankfully, you won’t have to, as an angry sounding voice emits from behind you and Tyler. “Get your hands off of her, Tyler, or I swear to god you’ll loose them.” It sends shivers up your spine and you smirk as it clearly scares the absolute shit out of Tyler. His arm quickly leaves your shoulders as he whips around, his arms in the air in mock surrender. 

“H-Hey man, I was just kidding. No hard feelings.” he stutters, every ounce of his confidence leaving his body as Yuta watches him with stalking eyes. “If you touch her again-” he begins to threaten, but catches the look of fear and uncertainty flash through your eyes and stops himself. He takes a deep breath, “You are never to be anywhere near her again, do you understand?” 

Tyler nods and disappears as fast as he appeared. Yuta gives an appreciative nod to Jordan, the bartender, before grabbing your hand. Tingles shoot up your fingertips as he gently tugs you behind him. “Let’s go somewhere quiet.” you nod in response, trailing after him as he leads you down a long, dark hallway beside the bar. 

You pass doors, each of which have names on them, like offices. Except you know they’re probably not offices. At least not in the traditional sense. He stops close to the end of the hallway when he pulls out a key. You’ve stopped in front of the door labelled, Yuta.N. He gestures with a smile for you to go in first as he cracks open the door. 

You walk in, one hesitant step after the other as he follows you quietly. You’re taking aback when your eyes adjust to the dark atmosphere of the room. The only light being some LED’s scattered around. A four poster bed acts as the centrepiece of the room, and god does it attract your eyes. What catches your attention the most are the hardpoints attached to the posts all around and above the bed, not to mention other odd ones in different corners of the room. 

“They’re for suspension.” Yuta says softly from behind you, patiently letting you take in everything you need to. You nod in reply, casting your eyes to the ones above the couch and the bed to the few that’re just in the middle of the room. It’s daunting you can’t lie. 

There’s a dark chest that is situated near the couch and you can only imagine what’s inside it. This is some fucking fifty shades of grey shit, you think to yourself, a laugh of disbelief almost leaving your mouth. 

“You okay?” He asks, his voice still timid. Truth be told, Yuta's nervous about how you’ll react to everything. He knows you’ve never really delved into more accurate BDSM, and he wants nothing more than for you to want this. He’s been itching to get you into this room, all of his favourite things are in here and now you are too. 

“Yeah. It’s just a lot.” You mutter and Yuta nods even though you can’t see him. You turn around and he takes a moment to watch your expressions. “Just remember we’re not doing that tonight,” he lifts a hand to rub a thumb over your cheek and you sigh. “unless you want to.” he adds. “Okay.” you agree.

“Alright then, why don’t we get to the part you’ve been craving then?” He questions, and you nod your head. “y/n I really want you to speak up and talk to me okay?” he asks and your eyes widen. “That might’ve been how you did it with your ex, but for this to work for us, we need to communicate.” 

He’s right, with Ethan communication wasn’t really a thought. Verbal conversation didn’t matter as long as he got what he wanted, and you obviously never picked up that that’s not how this is supposed to work. It’s refreshing to be doing this with someone who knows what he's doing and wants to make sure you’re okay with it every step of the way. 

Though, it does little to calm you on the fact that Yuta is much more experienced than you. The only person that you ever participated in rope bondage with was Ethan, and you never paired it with suspension. Despite the nerves you have to admit that the thought makes your pussy clench embarrassingly. 

“Yes, Yuta. I want you to tie me up.” you try to say with confidence, your eyes holding contact with him. He smiles, relief flooding you. “Perfect. Let’s begin then.” He clasps his hands together, guiding you by your elbow to the centre of the room. 

You’ve talked about how he would tie you up for the first time, but he still talks you through it as he begins by pulling a few bunches of hemp rope from the dark chest. He unravels the first bunch, laying it in his palms before gesturing to you. “Take off your clothes, y/n. Did you wear what I told you to?” Your breath hitches, as it actually dawns on you. You’re doing this, and by the look on Yuta’s face, you’re gonna love it. 

“Yes, I did.” you reply, surely removing your woollen trench coat. The material falls to the ground, you only being left in the black bondage harness and heels he sent to you. It seems that now you’re without the coat, you’re feeling hot but when it was the only thing covering you, you were cold. It’s strange how your body reacts to him, a practical stranger. 

“Good girl.” he purrs, looking you up and down. You shudder at the compliment, satisfied to have pleased him. He steps close to you, picking up the coat and gesturing for you to take of the heels. You do and he walkd to the corner of the room before placing them on the coat and shoe rack. Your eyes track him as he does and when he comes back to stand in front of you, you find yourself wanting to kiss him. Yet, it feels forbidden.

His breath falls on your lips as yours is held in your throat, not wanting to ruin the moment by breathing. “On your knees, now.” is all he says and you’re falling to the ground before the sentence is finished. When your knees meet the hardwood your eyes peer up at him through your lashes. He pulls the rope through his fist, your attention shifting to his hands. They’re large and veiny, and you want them on you but you sit quietly and wait for his request, eager to please. 

“We’re gonna start today with something simple and pretty.” he starts fighting the urge to coo at the way you look up at him. “Shibari is a form of decorative tying as you probably know, but it’s also used for pleasure. That’s what we’ll be doing too.” he explains and your head becomes light with the thought of the ropes wrapped around you, all pretty and confined. 

Now, my little rope bunny,” he says, a tinge of admiration following the pet name. “I’m going to first start by doing ‘shinju’, which is a traditional breast bondage technique.” he adds nonchalantly, and it sends more wetness to your pussy, a throbbing ache already burying itself deep in your abdomen and he hasn’t even touched you yet. 

You nod, a weak ‘uh huh’ leaving your lips. He grins, kneeling down to your level where he starts to gently glide the rope across your skin. An involuntary groan escapes you and Yuta freezes. “Jesus, never had anyone react that quick.” He mutters, more to himself than to you. You nod, deciding whether or not to just say what you want to, in the end you bite the bullet, wanting to see how he reacts. “Was wet before it even touched me.” You let out breathily. 

Your eyes close in bliss as he continues, making the first knot. You hear a curse slip from his lips and you internally smile in glee, glad you’re having an impact on him like he does on you. True to the name ‘shinju’ the rope goes around your waist, under your breasts before wrapping around your shoulder and beneath your armpit. Circling around your neck creating a halter. It then goes between your breasts before looping under the rope beneath them. Yuta takes his time with the rope, truly enjoying the art he’s making. Finally, the end of the rope is wrapped the whole way around both of your breasts, forcing them to bulge outwards. 

Your nipples perk towards him, his fingertips brushing them making you moan again. God, the feeling of the rope tight on your skin is alike to nothing else. The way you sense you’re constricted is blissful. Yuta watches the way you react like a hawk. No one he’s ever done this with has reacted like you do and it's fascinating.

Goosebumps follow every part of your skin he touches, the rope making you gasp and breathe heavier every time he places it across a bare area. When he ties each knot with careful precision, you can’t help the way you feel like a piece of art. 

When he finishes the ‘shinju’, he sits back on his heels, admiring his work. A smile graces his gorgeous face and you can’t help the way your face mirrors his. “How does that feel?” he asks, tugging at the knots to make sure they are all firm but not too constricting. 

“Feels good.” You reply, surprising you both as your voice is cracked and strained like you’re already wrecked. He nods, keeping an eye on you. “Do you want to try ‘koutou ushiro te shibari’? It’s just a hands behind the head tie.” You know you’ve hardly gone deep into what Yuta knows, really only skimming the easiest methods from his knowledge. It’s just the way he sounds so confident about these different ties. Ethan was never like that, always unsure of himself and constantly hurting you. 

You nod, a small noise of agreement leaving you. He strokes your cheek adoringly and you shift slightly on your knees, the rope around your breasts tightening eliciting a moan from between your lips. Yuta chuckles, “you really are enjoying this aren’t you, bunny?” The pet name causes you to only moan in response. 

He stands and walks behind you. “Hands above your head.” He instructs and you obey. He never has to ask twice with you and he loves it. Grabbing your wrists he wraps a new piece of rope around your left one a few times before pulling it tight and doing the same with the other wrist, effectively binding them together. 

You grunt as he pulls them firmly before looping around the connective piece of rope between your wrists. He then brings the ends down your spine till it reaches your waist. Wrapping his arms around you he curls it around your waist, making a pretty knot at the back that sits in the curve of your spine. 

“There.” he sighs, admiring the way your arms are now restricted, folded towards your neck. You whimper, the soft rope tight around your waist making you wiggle against the delicious pressure. “Ok bunny, how would you feel about being attached to that hardpoint there.” He points to the metal ring hanging above you and you nod, a sound of compliance coming from your chest. 

“Alright, stand up then.” He says watching to make sure you’re okay. Your knees wobble, weak from being on your knees for so long but you manage to stand in a stable position. Shibari is beautiful but all beautiful things take time. Yuta probably spent over 30 minutes tying these knots on you, each pretty piece of rope accentuating your body features. 

Yuta turns around, going back to the dark chest and pulling out a longer piece of rope. Reaching above you, he loops the rope through the ring. Pulling it down tight, he walks behind you and ties it to your arm tie. He laces it into the knots, focusing on making it museum worthy. 

This is part of the reason you love rope bondage. The attention to detail and goal of perfection makes you feel like a art piece to be worshipped, like the Mona Lisa. It’s also very intimate, the time you spend together, both parties enjoying their role. The last aspect you love is the build up to the intimate part. Sometimes it takes hours to tie someone how they want and it’s all so exhilarating. 

You gasp as Yuta pulls the rope tight, not quite suspending you but your feet are only just still on the ground. You whine in disappointment, wanting to be fully suspended. Yuta laughs, “there’s gonna be other times, bunny. We can work up to it.” he says, dragging a finger around your waist as he walks to your front. 

His fingers catch the rope around your waist, pulling you toward him, effectively lifting your toes from the ground. Your weight pulls down on your arms’ muscles, the burn delicious but not enough to sustain for more than a few seconds.  “See.” he whispers into your ear, sending a chill through your body. Yuta’s right, you need to get stronger to be able to hold your own weight comfortably.

“I’m not going to tie your legs today either, I don’t think you could handle it to be honest.” he smirks as your face twists. He turns to go somewhere behind you, not being able to see him you whine out loud. “Be patient, bunny.” he scoffs as you hear what you presume to be a fridge door open and shut. He rummages around with a few different things where you can’t see him before he comes into your vision again. 

On a small tray he has an assortment of objects. A dark blindfold sits neatly next to a ball gag and a small bowl of ice cubes. The last object on the tray is something you’ve never seen before, it's not large and sorta egg shaped. Seeing your confusion at the object, Yuta picks it up, showing you closer. “It’s a vibrating egg, this goes into your sweet little pussy.” 

You suck in a breath, an innocent ‘oh’ leaving your parted lips and it takes everything in him to not kiss you. That’s what the gag is for. He gets close to you, the ball gag in hand before he brings it to your lips. “Open.” he demands and of course, you comply. He places the ball part in your mouth, tying it behind your head. It’s a comfortable size, you note, especially since you have a rather small mouth. 

Next he picks up the blind fold, navigating around your body so he’e behind you again. Bringing it over your eyes, you groan into the gag. He makes sure you can’t see before securing it and you must admit you’ve never been gagged and blinded before. Ethan usually wanted you mouth free and eyes open so you could suck him off. You can tell with Yuta though, that this is more about pleasuring you for him. 

Without your sight, everything immediately becomes more sensual. The only thing you can really count on is the hearing, due to your loss of touch as well. You listen closely as he shuffles around you, when suddenly he’s pressed against your back. You can feel all of him on you like this and you can’t help the noise that emits from you, muffled around the gag. 

His fingertips dance around your waist, moving to the front of your body before he reaches between your closed legs. “Part them.” he mutters deeply into your ear and you groan, complying instantly. Brushing over your pubic bone you begin to pant around the gag. The increase in the rise and fall of your chest causes the ropes around your breasts to tighten and loosen periodically. 

He finally tickles your clit with his fingers, only ghosting over it in a teasing manner. You shiver in his hold, body vibrating and he makes a noise of approval. “Such a good little bunny. So responsive.” he murmurs in your ear, flicking your clit harshly. Almost painfully, but you couldn’t give a fuck, a strangled moan slipping around the gag. Your hips buck, looking for his fingers and the fact you can’t see them, makes you drip. 

“Okay, no more teasing. Just know I’m being extra nice since it’s your first time.” He confirms in your ear. Oh, you know he would tease you for hours and not get sick of it. But you’re happy he’s serving it to you on a silver platter this time. You moan out in response, it being the only noise that gets past the gag in your mouth as drool begins to dribble from the corners of your lips. 

He runs his fingers through your folds, another moan leaving from deep within your chest. “So wet.” He muses to himself and you begin to blush. “Oh, don’t be embarrassed, bunny.” He’s coos into your ear. “It’s so sexy that I barely have to touch you and you’re ready to go for me.” You’re always ready, is what you want to say, but the gag would make that near impossible. 

His fingers dip into your soaking pussy, beginning to slowly pump in and out of you. You can’t help the string of muffled curses that you grumble out, nearly choking on your saliva as you do. “Careful, bunny. As much as I’d love to see you choke, it won’t be on your own accord.” Your eyes roll back at his words, your pussy squeezing around his fingers as he chuckles at the reaction he gets from you. 

Suddenly he slips something inside of you and you’re guessing it’s the egg toy. It feels foreign. Smooth and round, snug deep in your pussy. His fingers leave you and you whine, the noise pitiful as he pats your hair soothingly. You hear the sound of sucking and your heart rate increases. “Mhm, you taste good, little bunny.” he moans into your ear as he licks his fingers and you wish more than anything right now, that you could see him. 

You wiggle against your ropes, groaning as they tighten on your skin. You hear him laugh at you as you embarrass yourself. It only turns you on more. “Right. Are you ready to see just exactly what this little toy can do?” He asks. You nod in response, thinking he wouldn’t expect you to answer verbally. You were wrong. 

He slaps your thigh. Not as hard as you’d like, but hard enough to hurt a little. It makes your back arch against the ropes as you throw your head back, a deep, primal sound emitting from deep within your chest. “Answer me.” he demands and you try your best to be good and answer. A barely understandable ‘yes’ is filtered from your mouth, drool now running down your chin like a stream. 

He doesn’t even think before he leans in close to you, using his tongue to lick up the mess you’ve made of yourself. You let out a high pitched moan as your mind races. He’s so fucking dirty and you love it. He gets to the corner of your lips, where he flicks his tongue into your mouth briefly, before pulling away. A noise of disagreement leaves you and he looks on, amused and intrigued by you. 

He grips the little remote in his hand, pressing the on button. You immediately react. Your body jolts as the little toy vibrates to life and so it starts. You officially can’t keep the noises in and Yuta only encourages you with his sweet and filthy words. 

The feeling of the toy vibrating deep in your pussy is ecstacy. With both your sight and will to string together a sentence evaporated, you are left to only focus on your impending orgasm. Wanting to participate Yuta picks up an almost melted ice cube, running it across your already hardened nipple. 

The sting of the cold makes you hiss, the feeling a painful pleasure. He creates a process of making your abused nipple freeze, before defrosting it in his mouth then switching to the other. The sensations make your head loll to the side and Yuta notes that next time he should tie you so that your neck gets more support. 

Your toes still on the ground begin to tingle as you feel an orgasm rise in you. Your chest rises and falls more rapidly and Yuta notices. Nipping and pinching at your sensitive nipples brings you to the edge quicker. A final bite to your chest pushing you into your orgasm. 

However, Yuta doesn’t turn the toy off. You try to argue your disagreement around the gag as a couple moments pass. When he still makes no move to turn the little buzzing toy off, you wiggle in your restraints. “Shush, bunny. It’s alright, do you trust me.” He mumbles against your chest. Luckily a nod is enough to satisfy him this time as he replies, “Good girl.”

Quickly you’re brought to another orgasm, but before you can cum, Yuta is on his knees sucking your clit between his lips. When the cold touches your sensitive nerves you all but scream into the gag, thrashing as he loops his arms around your thighs to stop you from moving. Definitely tying your legs next time, he thinks to himself. 

You cum hard, but he still doesn’t stop. Tears begin to fall down your cheeks as you sob into the gag. “Aww, is my little bunny ready to throw in the towel already?” He asks, a degrading tone in his voice. You shake your head, a muffled ‘no’ crying from your sobbing mouth. 

“Just one more for me, bunny. I promise.” You nod your head, only wanting to please him so bad. Even though he makes every nerve in your body burn, he’s a flame you’d gladly walk into every time. “Good girl.”, he praises stroking your thigh adoringly. You’re absolutely perfect for him. 

He pops an ice cube in his mouth, ghosting over your poor, swollen clit once again as you sob harder, feeling his breath on you. He attaches his lips around it, a broken moan turning into a weak scream as he places the ice cube directly on your clit. With the egg still vibrating inside you, his lips sucking your clit and the damned ice cube making it throb, you stand absolutely no chance. 

You cry out loud as you cum again. At this point a mix of your tears and drool stream down your face and neck, while cum dribbles down your thighs. Yuta wastes none of it, sucking your sticky thighs clean of the substance, caressing your skin as he does. 

After a few moments he’s quick to stand up. You hear him behind you before he loosens the rope holding you up, the slack causing your knees to collapse as you try to hold your own weight again. He catches you, arm securely wrapped around your waist as he guides you to the bed where he swiftly removes all the rope from your body.

When he removes your blindfold and gag, you begin to hiccup as your eyes adjust to the dim room before landing on him. He’s looking at you proudly with a hint of worry showing on his features. “You okay, y/n?” he asks softly. You nod, a quiet ‘yeah’ forming as your jaw adjusts to being closed again. 

Every muscle in your body burns, and this is the last part of rope bondage you love. The way you can always feel it long after you’re finished. He grabs a damp towel and begins to gently wipe the sweat, cum and drool from your body before you collapse into him. He hugs you close to him and you feel completely safe and satisfied. 

“That was amazing.” you sigh into him, and you swear you almost feel him deflate around you. “That’s good, I’m glad you did.” He mumbles into the top of your head. 

“Next time we should stretch first though.” you grumble and he laughs, his whole body vibrating and you can’t help but laugh lightly too. 

“Okay.” he replies, obeying you for the first time tonight.

[coyoteclan]

Big TW for pet loss

Hey, clangen tumblr and those who just enjoy the silly cats on this blog. I know it's been a little bit of time since my last update, but unfortunately during the past few months, I have been caring for my closest friend, Comet.

She's been my best friend for 15 whole years, and on February 9th of 2024, I'm sad to say that she has passed. I won't lie when I say that this is one of the hardest posts I've ever made, but I want to continue this blog in her honor. Normally, I have a terrible habit of just letting projects like this slip by me and gather dust; however Comet was meant to play an integral part within the blog to immortalize her, and I refuse to let something meant just for her to go to waste.

I want to thank you all first of all for being such an amazing community. I've genuinely had so much joy come of this blog, and it pains me that I let it go stagnant for as long as I have. There are 568 of you now, which is so extremely wild to me; but I hope that from now on, you can all love Comet as much as I did, even if as a memory.

I hope to return to posting content both here and on my main, @mxssacre , but for now I still need time to grieve and come to terms with the loss of someone that was so incredibly intertwined with everything I've done since I was 9 years old.

Thank you for everything Comet, my heart, my soul, my love.

More of my favorite photos of her beneath the cut.

It's hard to choose favorites out of the thousands of photos I've taken of her over the years, but I hope these do her justice to show what an amazing being she was. I hope you're hunting your toy mice in the stars, Comet.

[ghostinthegallery]

I can't believe The Silence and the Storm is over a year old! The first anniversary was May 27th (yes I missed my own fic's birthday in my defense I was traveling and forgot how time works).

I'm trying to compose my thoughts because this sure feels like a time a blog post would be fitting. However, my engrams are scrambled because...wow do I have too many feelings.

As some background, I've been a writer for a long time. And I've written 3-5 books (depends on how you count "completing" a book but it's 5 full drafts, 3 of which were heavily edited). I wanted to be a trade published writer (still do) and for a while I was feeling good about my chances! I got lucky and received some wonderful professional mentorship (and met one of my best friends during that program!). I took that guidance to query agents (a necessary step for access to most big/medium US publishers). I knew it would be hard and take time but...4 years later all I have to show are a few requests, hundreds of rejections, and one agent who asked me to rewrite my entire book only to reject me anyway (me, bitter? No not at all nooooo).

I'm a creative person and sharing my work feels like sharing a part of myself. Something that is not easy for me to do. After a while I just assumed I was missing something necessary. My work didn't resonate, but I didn't know how to fix it. I’d never reach anyone in the way I so desperately craved, and it was my fault for not being good enough. I felt broken.

During one of many major depressive episodes my spouse bought me a copy of The Infinite and the Divine. That book has changed my life. I was never much of a fanfic writer before. Either I thought the original work was too good and I didn't think I had anything to add or it was too bad so why would I bother with it when I could just go read/watch something better? 40k inspired me though. The ideas are incredible but underutilized enough that I felt like I had something to add.

So I started writing necron fic because why not? There wasn’t enough for me to read, and I needed more robot stories. Maybe I could rediscover my love of the craft, make some friends, make some robots kiss. Distract my mind from the horrors. So I posted a little OC fic and actually got some nice comments. Hey! Positive reinforcement! Hadn't had that in a while.

Emboldened, I continued in the most normal way possible. Going from a 7 chapter OC story to a giant civil war epic including every named necron character I could find with 6 (then 7...then 9) POVs. It was the type of grand space opera I've always wanted to write but never did because I didn’t think I had the skill and it's harder to sell. Luckily AO3 is free. Ain't no playing to the market there!

Now, a 40k necron civil war space opera is...niche. So I wasn't expecting much. I would have been happy with some kudos, some comments. Fan art felt like a pipe dream, but what are writers if not dreamers? The main goal was to enjoy myself. It was low pressure fun, I love the characters, what could go wrong?

Nothing, but I was wholely unprepared for things to go as right as they did. Y’all have been amazing. So many great comments and ideas exchanged, gorgeous art, fun asks, a lot of screaming (it’s fine probably don’t worry). I’ve never had such a strong outpouring of support for my work. It feels incredible. But also sometimes confusing. I’ve trained myself so well to handle rejection that I kind of forgot how to handle acceptance. Especially for something so personal. This is a weird story about undead space robots, there’s a lot of politics, sometimes the robots have sex. It’s got out there head canons, and 99% of the tyranid parts are pulled out of my ass because nobody knows how the space bugs work okay. My weirdness being embraced on this scale is one of the greatest feelings of my life. But it’s also new, and way out of my comfort zone. I’m being seen and adjusting to that.

Still, writing in this space has been one of the most consistently joyful things in my life for…well, over a year now! It’s changed how I view my art. I actually can create stories that touch people and make them feel things. I can take risks and have them pay off. I know not everyone will love this, but some people really seem to love it. That is mind blowing to me.

It’s making me reassess a lot about how I approach my art. Writing and other. I still plan to pursue publication. I want to get paid for my work, but this is making me consider alternate paths that might fit my style (and psyche) better. I don’t know what the future holds, but if you’d told me a year and a half ago that a big part of it would hinge on an AO3 gay robot skeleton space opera…I would have thought you were nuts, but also hoped you were right because that sounds rad as hell.

So in conclusion, thank you all so much for reading <3

[crazylittlejester]

bro. i am in the same boat as you.

asfhdjkss seeing you stress and become disappointed about whumptober is making ME FEEL THE SAME......

feeling upset about your writing and all the prompts not being correctly put down into words can be very hard and complicated!! i get it!!!

it's totally normal to feel that way and i assure you, it's okay!

just know that, even if it is your own decision, you don't have to feel obligated to do all 32 days. that's a bunch of work for someone and a whole lot of planning and writing and that can effect someone's energy and mental health. i appreciate your effort in trying to do it though! but please, don't get worried about producing so many mediocre fics, at the end of the day you're still writing things and im proud!!!

i saw your post about this and immediately felt bad so i hope this can help you feel even a little better... even so, i will be looking forward to anything you end up writing! you are such a fantastic author, never forget that. <3

thanks man 🫶 /gen

i have really been struggling a lot lately with this, and it’s been very hard to not get angry with myself over it because I feel like I haven’t been able to write in months and I’ve been struggling with hating most of what I write these days and I get so incredibly anxious to post anything because I feel like my ability to write and the quality of my fics has deteriorated sooo much. I’ve had my ao3 acc since 2018 and every year I’ve kinda made a tradition almost of orphaning everything I write and starting fresh at the start of the new year because I dislike the vast majority of what I write but I realized a few months ago that I don’t think I can do that this year- this is certainly the most attention my fics have ever gotten and I think at least one person would come yell at me in my asks if i disappeared off the face of the earth never to write for LU again allddkkd

its just very hard not to feel upset about being burnt out for so many months, and it’s hard to see how engagement has been down and have to remind myself it’s not because i suck, it’s literally just because i’ve been making less content. of course engagement would be down, the main reason most people interact with me is BECAUSE I write or do analysis posts or make content, so if im not putting out as much as i used to then that tracks and makes sense, but it’s hard to stop the intrusive thoughts sometimes. It is certainly a fight to not feel useless when I can’t do the one thing I’m supposed to be doing with this blog

anyways… it makes me really happy that there are at least a few people who will read whatever i throw up onto ao3, and all of you who regularly read the things i write and send me asks n such genuinely make me so happy. all of you are awesome

and thank you for this, it was really kind and sweet of you. i hope you have a good day, remember to take care of yourself and get some water n food 🫶

*wet cough* anyway *sniffle* y’all wanna see my tav…? /j *kicks a rock*

[firefox-archive]

alright bad news everyone

im officially sick. no idea what with, probably a fever, but this puts me out of working on this blog for awhile.

i greatly apologize for this, as i havent been working on the actual archive feature of this blog lately

(For those who cant read the cut: im taking a break from this blog for mental health reasons. i will leave submissions open and post them, but i myself will not be interacting with this blog in anyway)

extra details on my sickness and why ive been neglecting the archive below the cut

slightly sensitive content, do be careful :)

mostly its been affecting me physically. ive been coughing and feeling extremely light headed all day, with a headache on top of it all. this illness has combined with the affects of my anemia, which has put me in a lot of pain. dont worry, i will be talking to my mom about it (shes a registered nurse!!)

regarding my neglect of the archive, im going to be straightforward.

im an attention seeker, and its not normal attention seeking. over my life, i have struggled with a lot of things that have led up to me developing some sort of disorder or issue in my brain. i have actually been using this blog more than my actual main because i like the attention i get here. i do it because my thought process tells me this is the approval i have been seeking. i am aware it is not, but it can get tiring fighting against it. its incredibly unhealthy. many days it leaves me staring at my activity for hours, hoping that someone will want to talk to me, maybe reblog a post with something new to add. its become an issue, and falling ill has helped me realize this. i will still blog submissions, but i will not be personally posting or interacting with this blog for sometime.

my mental state truly is no excuse for how i have treated this blog, and i need to realize it

a big thank you and (platonic) hugs and kisses to everyone who has interacted with this blog thus far. i see and appreciate you all <3

[communistkenobi]

this is maybe silly to tell you about but i'm very envious of how smart you seem and the level of grasp you have on theory that feels incredibly scary to me. i was in uni for sociology, and save for one text that i understood from start to finish, the rest of it always felt like it was deleting my brain cells slowly and made me feel stupid, even as smn who had grown up being a "literature" person. i think it's just a matter of getting started, but it all feels embarrassing >>

what I’m about to say is going to sound very masturbatory and self-aggrandising, but that can’t really helped on account of the fact that the topic is what a smart little boy I am

one, thank you! I’m always very flattered when people give me this compliment. I don’t think it’s silly at all. two, I’m pursuing a PhD in the social sciences with the intent to stay in the academy after I get my doctorate, and my particular field of study skews towards critical theory. on average only 1% of people in canada have a PhD, and a fraction of that percentile have my particular academic trajectory - all of which to say, I am an outlier amongst a peer group of outliers, so I’m an extremely bad measuring stick to use when judging your own critical capabilities. I’ve been in post-secondary school for roughly 7 years now and will be in it for at least four more, and for the past 4ish of those years my main source of employment has been teaching and research, so I am both paying for and being paid to read theory and teach it to undergraduate students in small classroom settings. By the standards of academia I’m very junior, but I have a lot of specialised training in talking and reading, which is to say, it’s taken me a very long time to be where I am now. My academic career depends on my ability to produce original thoughts and write them down in a way that both speaks to existing scholarship while contributing new things to said scholarship, so I’m in an environment that enforces a very particular kind of discipline that is not remotely common or normal. Being a graduate student isn’t a rich profession by any means, but you are paid to learn information and write it down - something I would not be able to do if I was working a full time job.

I also frequently don’t understand the shit I’m reading! It’s extremely difficult to read academic texts because they’re meant to be read in classroom settings where you’re forced to voice your confusion, speak with other people about what you’re reading, defend your positions, connect it to other work, synthesise it in essay format, and so on. My live-blogging of books I’m reading is an attempt to simulate that, because I tend to learn best when writing out why I have the opinions I hold. Being confused isn’t a sign of stupidity but rather a simple fact that you’re brushing up against concepts and theories that take people their whole careers to develop and publish.

My own background in academia is also very eclectic, so I know a little bit about many topics, but there are very little topics can I speak authoritatively on - I can’t speak about the state of knowledge on, say, international relations, or critical race legal scholarship, or employment disability policy, but I know vaguely of those things. I’m not even a well-read marxist lol

All of which is to say - I am a horrible metric to compare yourself to. I am one of the few sickos who genuinely wants to remain in the academy for the rest of my life because I sincerely believe in the pursuit and production of knowledge, and my chance to do so is largely dependant on my ability to explain myself to other people. Put another way, I have spent my entire adult life training to be a marginally popular communist tumblrina on a website primarily known for producing supernatural actor porn. So either way don’t feel bad about it

[nonbinarynarrative]

Hi, my name is Chase and this is my first post about my hormonal transitioning journey. I am an AFAB Nonbinary person, and I started my hormonal transition on testosterone 4 weeks ago. I’m currently 20 years old, and have been out as non-binary for most of my life, but always felt I wanted to go on testosterone to get the more traditionally masculine traits I desperately want. 4 weeks ago I finally got what I’ve been working to for years, and I couldn’t be happier. What I want to do on this blog is document how I feel and what changes I’ve experienced so that other transmascs can get another perspective on what it’s like and can prepare for if they want to go on testosterone or not. So to start, here’s how the first shot went.

My first shot was probably the easiest one weirdly enough. I had a nurse with me go over everything I needed to do to have a good injection, which I will post what information I gathered from her in a video format to help others at a later date. I injected, and I used a “shot blocker” to minimize the sensation of the needle, which worked. while I felt no pain, I did immediately feel warm and fuzzy and my heart rate increased, which could have just been placebo. Afterwards I felt just so so happy to had finally done my first injection. In the minutes after however I started to feel a burning stinging sensation around the site, but it went away after about 10 minutes and didn’t bother me too much, and my nurse said she’d never heard of anyone she helped having that side effect. In the week after, I felt unbearably hungry all the time, even when I was full. This continued into the third week, but then started to feel more bearable by this week (the fourth week). By the second week I started becoming incredibly aroused all the time, it wasn’t bad but it was a huge difference from what I was used to libido wise. This is still the case for me on the fourth week, and while I enjoy it with my partner, it can be frustrating as my partner won’t feel up to it as often as I do, which would normally be fine, but now I feel completely overwhelmed by my high libido and get frustrated with myself over it. On week three, I started noticing bottom growth. Very minor, but definitely there. The growth has been making me very sensitive in that area, but it feels good most of the time. I am very excited to be experiencing this, and every time I check and realize I’m bigger than I was 4 weeks ago I get so happy.

These are the main traits I’ve been experiencing, but not everyone experiences these, and these aren’t all that you can experience.

I’m so excited to be on this journey, and am thrilled with myself that I’ve gone forward with this, if you’ve been wanting to go on testosterone for years as an afab, I highly recommend going to an inclusive doctor and getting their advice on getting started.

[fourseasonsfigs]

600, or a musing on resilience and love

Hello all you wonderful figthusiasts! Today is the day that I hit 600 fan figs on my spreadsheet total (not all in hand, the vast majority are in some stage of production or transport), and I wanted to take a minute to stop and celebrate what is, by all accounts, an incredible number.

This is less about me (and my perhaps fiscally-questionable use of disposable cash) and more about the fact that more than 600 individual figures of Gong Jun and Zhang Zhehan were produced and made solely by fans. That this many actually exist in the world. What this is about, above all other things, is about love, and resilience, and the awe-inspiring, unstoppable combination of both.

I don't normally talk about the current situation with Zhang Zhehan and Chinese entertainment, because this blog is meant to be a little island of happiness and fun for us that love this show, love these two actors, and love seeing cute renditions of them. But 600...well, 600 feels powerful. It feels like something worth talking about.

This fandom has had half of our vibrant, beautiful soul ripped from us in the nastiest, cruelest, most contemptible way possible. This is greed and evil in the most overt form I've seen in the world, and it was horrifying to watch it unfold that August.

As overseas fans, we at least can still see Zhang Zhehan's past works, post videos and photos of him, and freely say his name as much as we want. The Chinese fandom cannot. Zhang Zhehan has been so comprehensively erased from Chinese media that he cannot even use his own name. The fandom can't even search for his name online, his pictures and videos have been removed, and any of the shows or movies that feature him that remains still available has him (literally) scrubbed from the screen.

This is what I see when I search for Zhang Zhehan on Taobao, Weidian, and Xianyu:

The Chinese fans have taken matters into their own hands, and stood up and fought back and refused to forget him. The fig makers, the doll makers, the merch makers - all of these incredibly brave, loyal, and loving fans have gone out there and dedicated thousands and thousands of hours of their own time and their own money to keeping his memory fresh, his work front and center, and his light constantly burning.

They took him from the fans, but they can't make the fans let him go.

Luckily, the fandom still has the other half of it's soul, and continues to celebrate Gong Jun and his accomplishments, and his own fiercely loyal and great heart, and celebrates the love and affection and care these two souls have for each other. Zhehan promised Junjun forever on May 5th, 2021, and the fandom honors and helps keep his promise.

Think about it. Six-hundred-plus fan-created figurines of the two of them. I don't even own all the fan figs - there's absolutely more than this, I'd estimate closer to 700.

There's Wenzhou figs, of course, but random side character in a long ago TV show? Check. Main characters? Check. Appearance(s) on a variety show? Check. Ad campaigns? (Lots of) magazine shoots? Check check. Casual airport outfit? Workout pose? Douyin moment? any number of Weibo posts? Livestream? not just one, not just two, not just three, renditions of childhood photos? Check check check.

And the figs are still coming. I have a whole list of figs in sketch form sitting in my Weidian cart, waiting to be opened for deposits. One after another, fig makers dipping deep into their precious hoards of recorded shows and magazines and photos and videos of Zhehan, designing one fig after another. Every time Junjun wears some fancy new designer outfit, fans are hard at work pairing that look with a complementary one from Zhehan's archive, determined to keep these two front and center in a country where they can't even type Zhehan's name into a search engine without it being censored.

My respect for the Chinese fandom and the fan creators is immense. They have souls of steel. Every time I hold one of these figs in my hand, and marvel at the cleverness and creativity and all the fine little details, I feel the strength of that connection to them, that iron determination, the fierce will to persevere, that pride and joy, and the love that can't be stopped. 坚强 indeed.

Yeah, 600+ figs is a trauma response, no question. For the fan makers and the fan buyers. But it's a response, all right. Today I have 600 and more tiny (giant) shouts of, you can't stop us, we're going to keep loving and celebrating and remembering him no matter what happens.

It's incredible. I don't know why 600 is the number that really hits me - I had thought it would be 500, but I blew past 500 without blinking in a frenzy of late night and early morning fig drops, and then it was Gong Jun's birthday, and a tidal wave of love and figs, and now here I am. I was at 598 yesterday and already today I'm at 612. I'll be at 700 before I know it, with a lot of remainders starting to be released and the Spring Festival coming up.

I have less than 200 fan figs actually at home, and it's ... a lot. My husband asked me a while back, staring at my display shelves, so, what's the end game here? and I just looked at him, and said, I don't know.

I really don't. I have to believe this is totally unprecedented, but then again, what happened to him is totally unprecedented. The only thing I know that if the fans keep making them, I'm going to keep supporting them.

So here's to resistance, and resilience, and love. Here's to the fans staying strong, and here's to Gong Jun and Zhang Zhehan. It's going to be a glorious sunrise on the mountaintop when it comes.

[l-e-morgan-author]

my current wip list

Hands Made for Gentleness is about my two dear idiots Vaniah and Anneka, who get married to dodge an arranged-marriage law. Vaniah is incredibly traumatised by events in his past. Anneka discovers this as time goes by. It's a story of healing, mainly, and mental health. Boatload of trigger warnings (Vaniah is severely depressed, suicidal and all that goes with that, while Anneka is in recovery from anorexia) but I love them so much and I love the energy that's between them. At this moment I'm writing a scene in which they're arguing because Vaniah abruptly shut down a kissing scene without explanation and the conversation afterwards got mildly heated. Also they basically end up in a QPR more than a traditional romantic relationship and I love that for them. They're late twenties or so during this novel. First draft.

Patience, Changing is about Patience and her adopted sister Rhona. Patience is my autistic darling, Rhona is my current Discord pfp and anyway I love them. They have interpersonal conflicts that form the nucleus of the novel, but they work them out in the end. Teenagers, and absolutely no romantic relationships in this story which I love. Also it's set in my home city of Melbourne. First draft.

To Kindle a Flame is the first book of an embarrassingly big series. I first wrote the earliest draft for camp nanowrimo or nanowrimo itself, 2017. It started out as one book, in fact started out as a simple response to a concept outlined and failed to bring to a satisfying conclusion by a Christian book by someone in my denomination - In Search of Life by Anna Tikvah. I loved the concept (girl has questions about life, turns to the Bible and reads it, things happen), but then Verity never questioned that the Bible was true, which seemed wack to me. So I started writing a story in which my main character (Adira) found a copy of the Bible and then began to read it, but the whole time she's questioning it. It turned into about 300k of messy drafting (I've drafted it uhh three times by now and am gradually working on overhauling it, grabbing what bits I can and then finishing the draft, ideally this year) and has become a story about mental health, choices and the way people figure out beliefs. In the Gospels there's a line in which Pilate says "What is truth?" - that's basically the tagline of To Kindle a Flame. It's also dystopian. It's my beloved baby. Anyway I'm normal about this story. Also Adira is autistic. Oops. I didn't intend that. I just looked at her character one day and went Yet Another Autistic Character Ay. xD It's also set in Melbourne, but aforementioned dystopia renders Melbourne unrecognisable. I've done a bunch of worldbuilding on her. Also features the character who was the first openly queer character I ever wrote - Tom, who's bi, though he ends up married to Adira and never has a mlm relationship during the story (has prior - in the story he's side B). Somewhere between first and second drafts.

Do Roses Cast Shadows? was the most recent nanowrimo, and I got a grand total of 12k into it. I uh. Don't know what's going on really. I don't recall much, but I'd like to get back to it someday. My characters are Wren and I can't recall the male main character's name.

They Told Me To Name My Demons is a poetry collection I'm working up to publication someday. It's about Christianity, suicidality, depression, autism and identity. I plan to include 100 poems and 7 prose pieces, of which I've so far written and somewhat edited 84 poems (might have a few more, I haven't crossreferenced with my phone lately) and 4 pieces of prose. The title is from a blog post I read years ago and then wrote a poem in response to. Most of the poems have been written in the last year or two. I chase inspiration where I see it. First draft.

Sparks Under Heaven is a collection of five short stories/novellas, all connected to To Kindle a Flame (one features Adira, two her grandfather, one someone another character knew in his youth and the other focuses on an event from To Kindle a Flame but from someone else's perspective). I've had it professionally edited but the edits are sitting there still waiting to be touched, largely. Second-last round of edits before I self publish.

Through Lightning, Through Thunder was nanowrimo 2022, the happiest novel I've ever written and absolutely beloved. It features Taira (rabbit), Paddy (fox), Sheba (lynx), and various less important characters. It started out life as a Narnia fanfic, focused around my original characters with occasional mentions of the Four. It was 15k. Then I fleshed it out into a full original novel, 100k-and-counting. Oopsie. The good guys are trying to stop an evil dragon being resurrected (based on the Witch scene in Prince Caspian). In the end everyone lives happily ever after. Yay. Second draft.

[Inklings story] is about Hadassah, autistic darling of my heart who is thrown through a portal and discovers a found family on the other side, essentially. Downtrodden autistic but becomes happy and confident. First draft.

The Time Travelling Midwife is about Felicity, ALSO autistic (surprise!). I haven't got very far with this one either, it exists mostly in vibes in my mind. It's best summarised as the story with the time travelling midwife, who travels in time, is an angel, tries to stop evil from prevailing and when it does eventually through the building of the tower of Babel (mainly facilitated by one of her colleagues), her time travelling powers are taken away and she ends up settling somewhere in the 1900s and having a happy life. First draft.

Only the first and second are in active development right now. Please ask me about any part of any thing of this post. I copied and pasted directly from the Discord in which I rambled about them.

If I've forgotten any wips that you know about please tell me, lol. And this is only about full length novels or collections, not shorter stories.

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

Writing Newsletter #1: March 2024

So! Lil author's note to explain this. I decided to start up a newsletter, monthly, but until I get around to figuring out website hosting &c., to post on here instead of emails. Once I get that sorted, I'll switch this to email, and there'll be a newsletter signup gift of two stories - Ever Changing, Ever Near (hosted on my website until recently) and A Fragile Solace. Together, in unedited form, they're around 3k. They're Inklings stories, both of which were highly commended in the separate competitions I wrote them for. Anyway, if you want to be on the taglist for this monthly newsletter, say the word and I'll add you.

Writing update

Lately, my main project has been Patience, Changing. It’s a story about autism, changes in routine and loving despite the inconvenience. There’s also a spice of mental health in there, because I’m me and that’s what I do. Also my protagonists are eleven and twelve years old. Very fun. Rhona is incredibly over-dramatic and while in some ways she’s justified, in other ways she’s just not—I’ve written a couple of scenes from her perspective that I intend to cut, just because I love her so much. (It’s meant to be all from Patience’s POV.) An interesting thing that I’ve noted in the last few days is the inclusion of a character I’d intended to be already gone before the story began, but on a whim I decided to change the timeline. If you’ve read The Patience of Hope, the character I’m referring to is Hannah—Patience’s aunt, who dies of anorexia complications long before. However, I’ve chosen to include her in Patience, Changing because as someone who suffers from anorexia myself, I felt it was important to include the possible outcomes. I’m not entirely sure what her role in this story is, but I’m discovering that she is very important to Patience, so we’ll see when she dies. I’ll have to edit The Patience of Hope to change that detail, but that’s okay.

This is the second time I’ve made myself cry over a character I originally wrote as dead before I wrote them before they died, but anyway.

In terms of word count, I’ve written 80k of assorted Patience content since I started writing the novella in mid-December, so I’m pretty happy with that.

Reading update

At the moment I’m reading Walking on Water by Madeleine L’Engle for Lent (well—Lent-ish), as well as Cry of the Raven by Morgan L. Busse. This is my first time reading both, and I’m tremendously excited to finish them both. The first Ravenwood book was one of my favourites for a long time and I only recently read Flight of the Raven for the first time. It lived up to my expectations.

I’ll have more to put in this section next newsletter when there’s been a definable sense of time since the last one, so. Yeah.

Ramble

Hi. This is just an area where I can ramble about whatever. Since I’m new to this whole newsletter thing, this one is pretty empty. I’m considering how I want to do this thing—considering whether I add in a Goals section or not, or whether I try and get back to posting on my blog, but anyway. Hopefully here on out will become more polished, or something. This was a pretty last-minute idea—I’ve been kicking around the idea of creating a writing newsletter for a While, but until now didn’t actually get round to it.

Anyway, please contact me and let me know what works best or what you’d most like to see! I need the advice.

Drabble

Under Pressure

“Patience!” he called.

She turned to him with relief, pressing her hands to her face in distress. “Oh, Nathan!” she said, leaning a little towards him. “Why can’t I just—be normal?”

“You’re normal—for you,” he said gently. “The public perception of ‘normal’ is so weirdly skewed it’s crazy. Don’t think any less of yourself just because you can’t handle that.” He gestured to the party they had both left behind. “You’re fine, Patience.”

“I’m autistic,” she said bitterly. “I’ll never cope with the world.”

“That’s not your fault.” He didn’t touch her, only smiled, and she was comforted.

Photo

[gleefullypolin]

Can we all just sit down and have a chat...

Like family dinner or some shit because seriously you all are being fucking mental.

Sorry this is long and I'm just ranting to myself. DNR

I didn't have social media until the start of the year for Bridgerton. Mostly because so much of the fandom is fucking mental. My only socials were for Captain swan and don't get me wrong, that place is a cesspool of shit too but come on guys...this is crazy shit for a romance show about a family.

On my last one, I got it...the fandoms hated each other because the ships cross pollinated. (you see what I did there) lol. Captain Swan hated Swan Queen, Swan Fire, everyone wanted to burn each other alive and nothing was happy. I know discourse.

But this is literally no reason at all. They are brothers and sisters with no incest. They aint out here fucking each other.

Now, what I do want to say is, I sit back quietly and watch but I also keep a lot of receipts. So seeing a lot of people talking like they are up on a high tower of purity is pretty funny, because I also watched the shit show that happened at the end of S2. Trust me, there is no high tower to be sitting on, when that tower had sniper guns and you were literally shooting at people from them.

Polin's for the most part are quiet. Their reddit is pretty peaceful. There is always something being talked about, a competition to be voted on, pretty art, a fun meme, interesting conversation to be had. It's not a hate fest. That was necessary because the main sub is a rotten piece of shit that cannot be navigated for the most part and is not safe for Polin's to be in.

If you have been there, you would know that every six days or so, someone will post the same tribe, "I didn't like S3 and can't get through all of it, please help me understand why" usually followed by a sentence that says "S2 is the best and I love X or I was so upset when Ben got shoved to the side" Again I have no idea why these posts are necessary. If you don't like something, don't watch it, don't ask us to help you figure out why you don't like it. But also, these posts aren't actually there for them to ask us anything, its simply there to boost the negativity around S3.

There is no need for this, but it continues to happen.

The anti blogs continue to spew stupidity toward Polin that doesn't even track with normalcy. If you are an adult with this type of blog, please go back to your job and re-evaluate your life. But you cannot be NOT part of scripting, casting, shondaland, bridgerton, and still have so much insight into the scripts, casting, shondaland, and bridgerton. Please be so for real and go to work.

The Kanophies have spent so many years torturing the Polins that it has become normal in this fandom. So normal that now anything that happens for S4, it is just expected that Polin world shut the fuck up and take their medicine and if anything outside of that happens, it is bad behavior on our part. I think the Polins have earned their voice.

S3 was SUCCESSFUL, let me say that for the dumbass idiots in the back who do not understand how things work and twist themselves into pretzels to try and misconstrue numbers, try and talk to you in facts that don't add up, make you feel like the world is upside down, or speak like this:

"Every season builds on the next and so it makes sense that each season is more popular as the next comes out so it only makes sense for S3 to see these numbers."

If that was the case, S2 would have done better than S1 and yet here we are. With that not being the case. Also if that was the case, shows would not get cancelled so often because viewership dies down as shows continue their seasons. Math doesnt math because they are simply wrong.

The things they are saying are only to help them feel better. Look I'm not wanting Bridgerton to be cancelled. I'm happy when all seasons do well. S1, S2, S3 are ALL on the Top 10 list. I'm incredibly proud of S3 and how well it did, mostly because those parts of our fandom OPENLY ROOTED FOR ITS FAILURE. They wanted it to flop, they prayed for it to flop, they told our leads out in the open they wanted them to do terribly and hoped they sucked. This is what we are dealing with, again, we have receipts....you are not on a high tower.

And yes, its not the whole fandom, these are sub sets of the fandom, I will give you that IF YOU WILL ALSO GIVE US THE SAME GRACE AND STOP BLAMING ALL POLINS FOR OURS!

But also, is it not odd.....completely that when something does go down....on the Polin side, its from an account that was created that day or from a week prior who is suddenly being incredibly racist or homophobic. OUT OF THE BLUE. We should all be wary of accounts like that and call them out.....WHICH POLINS do immediately.

Sadly, what I'm seeing coming from the other side, is from long time accounts calling Nic fat, trashing our side of our ship. Being rude to Luke. Just go read some comments on Netflix for any post on Bridgerton. S3, S4, doesn't matter, I dare you. It's not nice from our beloved fandom.

So spare me your lectures. Look at yourselves in the mirror. Stop telling me that I have to be nice. I'm done with this.

Yes, the video came out yesterday and some Polins made a comment about chemistry. And why did that happen?

BECAUSE THE FIRST THING A BENOPHIE ACCOUNT SAID WAS:

THANK GOD we finally have leads with chemistry again.

Isnt it good to have leads with chemistry again

THIS is what chemistry looks like instead of that fake stuff from before

Ok that is what bullying is. So we punched back. And I'm sorry, but sometimes you just get fucking tired of being talked shit to all the damn time. And yeah I didnt see chemistry either. I didnt respond to anyone about it, but you know what I'm not going to lecture anyone who did. And the ONE comment that stirred the pot was LITERALLY not directed to ANYONE and all it said was ERM. so spare me the clutching of the pearls.

I'm over being attacked and being called the bully.

Polin fanfic writers can't even write fic about Pen being friends with Anthony or a story with Kanthony without being bullied in their comments. They can't write a fic about Newton with being trolled in their comments and called racist or worst because they dared take a dog away from a POC. I wish I was making some of this stuff up that I have seen in comments. It is brutal out there and I have never seen it going the other way. I'm sorry, I have gone out and searched. It's always some account created brand new and faked. These are long time accounts commenting on people who wrote a nice fic and tagged a ship APPROPRIATELY.

So how about you sit down and enjoy your season and maybe, just maybe if you spent more time writing your own fics, speculating on your own season, enjoying your own leads and keeping S3 out of your mouths, you might spend less time worrying what Polin's are doing.

It's just so fucking tiring.

Sorry for the rant.

edit: I'm not just yelling at outside our fandom either. some of our own polin's need to cut shit out too. L/N are having to alter their own behavior cuz our side act like fucking freaks too. Stop stalking them. Luke's had to alter his SM profile or posts how many times because you guys are calling around to his hotels to ask about his GF. Would you all act like the adults you all actually are.

[himawarihanahaki]

Why I'm anti-contact and what it means to me

I've seen so many blogs using anti-contact/pro-contact to mean different things, so I just gave up on understanding the nuances and decided to just make a long post on my opinions on it.

Obvious part: is it ok to have romantic/sexual contact with children? No, not even with "consent" (which they can't give, saying yes when you don't understand what you're saying yes to isn't consent). If you disagree, not interacting with me isn't enough I need you to die.

Less obvious part: is it ok to talk to children without romantic/sexual intentions if you're a pedophile? no ♡

Reasons

- Bad for you:

Personally I've never had any kind of attachment to a kid, but just the thought of being in love with one and having to see them regularly makes me want to scream. I can't even begin to imagine how insane that would make me.

There's no good ending in that situation, because if you're a spineless creature with no morals or self control you'll probably end up doing something weird at best or monstrous at worse (bad), and if you're not you'll enter a spiral of repression and self loathing (bad).

The only reliable way to avoid that situation is to avoid kids as much as possible.

- (can be) Bad for everyone else:

Story time:

A few years ago, I found out that one of my old neighbors went to prison for possession of csem, which was made even worse by the fact that he was a teacher and I had been one of his students.

He never did anything to me specifically, but I have a lot of memories of talking to him, receiving gifts and spending recess with him sometimes. I know this sounds weird as fuck but I swear it was normal and every other teacher treated me basically the same because I was a friendless teacher's pet.

The point is that even though I can't tell you a single thing he did with me that was in any way inappropriate, just the fact that I know that I was a kid and he was a pedophile ruins everything. So many memories I have from between the ages of 6 to 8 ish that used to be sweet are tainted forever because now I know that he was probably thinking about fucking me on at least some of them. I haven't talked to anyone else who was his student at the time, but I'm sure almost everyone feels the same as me looking back.

His case is made worse by the fact that he wasn't a non offending one, but even if he was, I don't think it'd make a difference on what I personally feel when I look back at my memories with him.

That experience is the main reason I avoid any and all contact with kids, because if somehow it becomes public information that I'm a pedophile my suffering will be more than enough, I don't need someone to be wondering if I was thinking about fucking them that one time 8 years ago when we were talking about the weather or something. My goal is that every child I come across forgets me immediately or at most in a week and that I forget them just as fast.

About other people:

While I don't necessarily think everyone who interacts with kids (in a normal and appropriate way) is a bad person or has bad intentions, I do think they're being selfish and really wish they would think more about their actions and possible consequences.

I also find it incredibly suspicious, it's really hard to believe you're actually non offending if you go out of your way to talk to kids, but I guess you could just be a little stupid so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.

[sh1-n0bu]

MOMMY NOBUUUU /p i need someone wise’s advice !!!!

i like to make silly looking “art” (i don’t even consider it real art, it’s more like memes/doodles) (like the ms paint art style, that looks a bit like pixel art and also looks sketchy and simple) and i CAN’T DECIDE if i should make an account to post it??? i really want to but i know NOTHING about ig and its algorythm (even though i did use to have disney and anime fanpages with a decent amount of followers when i was, like, 14). i don’t wanna end up with an account with like 2 followers cuz what if affects my self esteem and the way i view art hsjsg ???? i like my cringy artstyle but.. idk im probably overthinking this AGHH

yk it’s just that when i was a fan account it wasn’t my art so it’s not like i got offended if people didn’t like/comment/save. with things i created it would be different i think??? i’ve been wanting to make an art account for YEARS and i just got into the artstyle (i had a “normal” artstyle before) but wait wait lemme try to link the pics

(hope they work)

so this is the first thing i’ve ever drawn in this style https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-AJt9jSnPo1Enyg4B8Dnm0HMYeFIhxYX/view?usp=drivesdk

and then it just kept going. https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-I8x_U-9_ZVwpPE6aDAWlW0ApEuJ2r5Z/view?usp=drivesdk

and going (yes that’s a gyaru trying to talk to a golfball and yes it’s a remake of this meme https://www.reddit.com/r/memes/comments/d6udnl/why_wont_it_move/)

and then i saw this. https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-1qO6MbBOo51PK-jhMltsnpfCb0yTGV2/view?usp=drivesdk

and i went “this is so hsr main trio” https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-5MwpEQLIFx_iLdif6R9o66Xc2HW5vjw/view?usp=drivesdk

this is cursed, i’m aware.

then i started making these https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-60FA9_FROx2c0SQrzh1RXOXxm7tFl5G/view?usp=drivesdk

you have NO IDEA how many of these i’ve made. because idk either. all i know is that in three days i had made 20+ of them (which may sound like it’s not much, but for me and how little i used to draw it’s a lot)

and now i REALLY want to make the account but i’m TERRIFIED bc what if no one likes that kind of cringy stuff?????

i’m literally so sorry to bother you with this /gen it’s just me overthinking stuff as always :/ don’t feel pressured to answer me ofc!! <3 also i rlly rlly hope things are going better for you! sending love and support <33

gratefully yours

breaker anon~~<3

MOMMA NOBU HAS ARISEN /j j j j

first, those arts are fucking GORJUS my sweettums. as someone who has lost the ability to draw, that is beautiful. i used to think of becoming a free style painter or to learn how to draw digital but somewhere along the way i just gave up and decided to simply settle on writing instead. even now, when i see art tiktok or recommendations of compilation videos on yt, i feel a bit of an ache in my chest. its just there, y’know?

second, i think you should do for it. maybe try opening up an account on a platform ur incredibly familiar with. perhaps tumblr? or even ig? or even tiktok works too! just any platform you feel safe and comfortable and know how to navigate is good.

and yeah, i can def say felt to the “it will make my mental health worse if i only get 2 likes or smt” bc same same same. i try to write good and capture the characters’ personality correctly while keeping the fic ‘alive’ only to end up with like,,,, hundreds of likes but no feedbacks or reposts or smt LMAOOO

as for a single tip i would give is to expect everything. not everyones going to like ur content and they will suddenly crash into ur inbox talking abt how they hated this fic or smt of yrs bc it was disgusting or not their thing. that has happened to me like,,,, 3 times???? i think?????? and and!!! be sure to do a bit of research beforehand, me thinks. see what kind of attention you would get when u start to post on ur page or account.

honestly, i started this blog as only reposting blog. but then one day my very first 🦝 anon came and i decided, why not write a thirst thought i had with friend and see how it goes? and it just spiraled from there.

main thing is, have patience and love what ur doing. don’t burn urself out over it too much or else what u used to love will end up being what u hate and take good care of yourself sweettums<3

[misguidedlavender]

happy birthday, toontown rewritten.

time to get sappy!

on a warm, sunny day, on august 20th, 2013, i booted up my familys ancient windows vista PC to redeem my 1 month membership card for toontown online. after going to the main website, as id done a thousand times before, there, in small white lettering, on a bold red background, i read the most earth shattering words that could have ever shaken my small teenage self. attention, toons! toontown online will be closing on september 19, 2013. i, along with many other kids and adults, felt our souls be crushed. i ran to toonbook to see if anyone else had seen it already. the heartbreak was palpable. our precious game, our fun little paradise, our home away from home, was going away in just a months time.

i remember playing nearly every day from that point on, doing everything i possibly could, holding hard and fast to what little time i had left before toontown shut down for good. i remember the communitys desperate pleas to disney to not close the game in the form of many change.org petitions. i remember the fiery anger at the original blog post, stating that disney wanted to divert resources towards club penguin (which was quickly edited out, of course). but so it goes, in the normal course of business, the cries of hundreds of thousands of children went ignored.

on the morning of september 19th, 2013, i woke up early to gather in toon valley of toontown central to bid farewell. my goodbye was not even remotely clean or graceful. i was booted out maybe an hour or so before the game officially shuttered at noon. and that was it. no fanfare or final words. there was silence, and there was sadness.

but in the midst of our collective grief, whispers began to spread around toonbook. did you hear? this guy on mmo central forums says hes gonna revive the game. no way, thats not possible, the games dead, obviously. but in a few days time, a proof of concept was revealed. from the cynicism, a different tune emerged. the sound of hope.

toontown wasnt coming back. it was being rewritten.

in the many years ive played this game and been a part of its community, ive made so many precious memories and friends that have become core parts of my soul. it has served as an endless fuel for my creativity and introduced me to so many incredible and colorful people. heck, i married the guy i met through this game. ttr was there throughout my most formative years. even in my darkest moments, i never strayed too far from the trolley. i would be such a vastly different person without ttr. i will never not be grateful for all the opportunities, memories, love, and happiness that ive experienced because of this game.

with all the warmth i can afford, happy 10th birthday toontown rewritten. against all odds, you have survived—no, lived—a full ten years powered only by the love of community who refused to let their home disappear. your persistence in the most unlikely of circumstances is emblematic of why its worth it to keep striving. in the face of despair, what most would see as a stop sign, you saw as a giant green light. you radiate an infectious passion that makes me smile even when i dont want to. you are a happy respite in a world that is difficult, dark, gray, and full of cogs. you taught me that, no matter how old i am, silliness and fun arent something to grow out of, but essential to our existence.

geez, im getting a little misty eyed. i should stop here. thank you for everything ttr. heres to another decade of happiness.