#yes i printed it out so i could edit it better

[seouljazzbar]

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest. 

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to  buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry. 

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly  you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats. 

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. 

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…” 

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties. 

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff  noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?” 

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.” 

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?” 

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat. 

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”  

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet. 

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in. 

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.”  He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you. 

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded  pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing  into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains. 

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.” 

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed. 

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

[kaciidubs]

Catnip and Kidnappings

Hi, 🧿 nonnie! This one's been a long time coming, and though it doesn't have much smut, I hope you still enjoy it! ❣ Summary: You just needed to go to the pet store for two things - so why were you suddenly in a car with a man you didn't know? ❣  ❣ Word Count: 2.5k+ ❣ Warnings: Mafia! AU, fluff, meet cute, implied danger, slight humor, cat talk, reader is a bit sassy but so is Minho ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Two things. You just needed two things from the pet store, then you would be back home with your lovely tabby cat and show you’d been putting off for the better half of two weeks because it just ‘wasn’t the right time’.

So how, you ask, did you manage to find yourself hurriedly escorted away from the storefront of the pet store by a man you’d just met?

Well, you could target the beginning of the end the moment you stepped foot into the pet store, making your way to the cat aisle on instinct with your goal clear in your mind; catnip and premium cat food.

Premium cat food - you wished you could trick your furry child into eating a cheaper form of food, but his picky eater tendencies had set him in his ways ever since your mother decided to spoil him and introduce him to the world of Sheba pate and cuts of various meat and fish flavors; the same woman who claimed she didn’t like cats, yet bought him almost all of his toys.

Huffing out a quiet laugh at her change of heart, you bent to grab a box of the food packs, silently thanking the corporate gods that it was still on sale, before heading deeper into the aisle to grab the second item on your mental list.

You scanned the rack with the box still in your arms, adjusting it slightly every now and then until your eyes landed on the empty spot that usually had the brand of catnip you needed.

“Wonderful…”

“If you’re looking for catnip like that brand, you could go with the one with the red label - they look different because of the companies, but they’re really the same ingredient wise.”

“Oh, really? Thank-” The next word immediately died on your tongue as you turned your head, ready to thank a store worker but, instead, you were met with possibly the handsomest man you’d ever laid your eyes on.

Sharp eyes and a nose that looked like it belonged on a marble sculpture, paired with lips set in a faint frown and the prettiest jawline you’ve ever seen - he was gorgeous.

He seemed to either not notice your brain freeze or blissfully ignore it as he stepped closer to pick up the container before placing it on top of the cat food box in your arms.

“I have three cats and they all like both brands, there isn’t really a difference besides the fact that you don’t have to use as much of this one as the other one, which makes it better considering the price.”

Once his eyes finally met yours, you felt your brain kick back into gear, “O-Oh, okay, thank you so much!”

He hummed out a small sound of acknowledgement, giving you a curt nod and reaching forward to grab a container of his own; his eyes scanning across the small printed words for a moment before he looked to you once more. “Do you need help? Carrying that, I mean.”

“This? No, no, I’ve got it handled.” You adjusted the box once more, the catnip container sliding to the right until you balanced it out quickly, “All good, thanks again, though.”

Before you could embarrass yourself more than you already had, you thanked him once more and shuffled past him and out of the small aisle in record time, mentally cursing whatever line of fate led you down this path.

Placing your items on the conveyor belt, the cashier greeted you as they scanned your items and you typed in your rewards card onto the card reader’s keypad.

“Are you getting this, too?”

“What?” Looking up, you stared at the catnip in their hand with confusion creasing your brow.

“Um-”

“Yes, we are.”

The familiar voice made a chill run down your spine, your head whipping to see the same man from before, the faintest of curves to his otherwise neutral expression alleviating his otherwise stoic demeanor.

Shrugging lightly, the cashier proceeded to scan the second container before announcing the total.

Pressing his black card to the one-tap reader, he seamlessly slid it back into his wallet before stuffing it back into his pocket, “Think of it as a little gift for your cat, they deserve to be treated.”

For being stunned for the second time that day, your recovery was just as fast, “I’ll make sure to let him know a kind stranger cares about his picky habits.”

He huffed out a quiet chuckle, but that was more than enough to inflate your ego and make your heart flutter, quickly taking back your previous curse to thank fate instead.

After grabbing your bag of items, you made your way out of the store with your new companion following suit.

“So… Was that really just a gift for my cat? You don’t have any ulterior motives, do you?” You mused, turning to look at him fully as you stood outside of the storefront.

Shaking his head, he raised his hands in defense, “It’s just a gift - like I said, I have three cats so I know how it can get, better than most. Besides, the picky eater phase is really rough on the pockets at the worst of times.”

“Well, Miso appreciates your generosity.”

“Miso… cute.” He hummed softly, though his true excitement was evident in the small glimmer in his eyes.

“Do I have the honor of knowing your name?” Clocking the possible unintended implication of the question, you quickly backtracked, “Um- Just so Miso knows who he can thank while eating his pate salmon, of course.”

His lips parted to speak but closed twice as fast, his once relaxed smile turning into a firm line as he looked at you - almost enough to look through you, or rather, past you.

As you went to turn your head to gauge for yourself, you were stopped by the warmth of his hand around your wrist, winning your attention for himself like jingling keys in front of a baby.

“Let me bring you home, and I’ll tell you on the way.”

You felt your heart flutter, though you couldn’t ignore the unease creeping up your spine, “I appreciate it, but you really don’t have to-”

“I just want to make sure you make it home safely.” His mouth pressed into a tight lipped smile and his grip tightened ever so slightly, “Trust me.”

Maybe it was the fact that he sounded so sincere, aligning with the image of the kind man you’d seen in the pet shop, or perhaps it was the way his firm gaze flickered with a hint of urgency, but you found yourself nodding softly.

“Okay.”

With that, you were tugged down the sidewalk and around the corner, hurried footsteps falling alongside his long strides in hopes of keeping up.

“Is- Is there something wrong? What’s happening?”

“Everything’s fine.”

You bristled at his nonchalant, clipped tone, falling back on your pace by half a step. “I have a feeling you weren’t lying to me before, so, please, don’t start lying to me now.”

Feeling your resistance, he took a short breath and spoke, “Nothing’s wrong yet, and nothing is happening - I’d rather keep it that way, if you don’t mind.”

“But what did you see?”

“Someone who has no business trying to approach me in public unless they’re looking to start something they have no chance of finishing. I have no desire in getting innocent people caught up in those types of affairs.”

“Those types?” Your eyes widened as you neared a black car - slim, sleek, and a model that you had no chance of owning for yourself on your current pay grade. “Are you-”

“I’m no one.” He shut you down with ease before reaching forward to open the passenger’s side door, “Get in.”

Putting a temporary pin in your conversation, you quickly slid into the car, the faint scent of jasmine mixing with the musk of sandalwood and leather seats filling your nose; watching through the windshield as the black haired man rounded the car before sliding into the driver's seat.

“I don’t think a nobody just casually owns a car like this,” clicking your seatbelt into place and setting your bag on the floor, you shot him a wary glance, “if you’re going to kidnap me, Miso’s going to be royally pissed.”

The car’s engine roared to life, masking his light chuckle but doing next to nothing in hiding the slight uptick of his lips. “I’m not a kidnapper, though I’ll make an exception if Miso’s as cute as you make him out to be.”

With that, he shifted the gear and drove out of the parking lot, using the one-way street to get away from the pet store and the unknown assailant. Buildings and cars passed by in a blur after you told him your address, your hands nonchalantly turning your phone while the silence was placated with the sound of the engine and the radio - though, you had no hope of hearing what the song was from how low the volume was.

Taking a deep breath, you turned toward him, eyes tracing over his unfairly handsome side profile. “So… Is this the part where you tell me who you are?”

“I told you, I’m no one,” he hummed simply, eyes trained on the road ahead.

“And I told you I don’t like liars - you still owe me your name, you remember that, right? Now, since you’re saving me from some unknown evil, you owe me a full introduction.”

He glanced over at you, amused astonishment filling his face, “For someone who’s in the hands of a complete stranger, you make a lot of demands.”

“Think of it as your atonement for giving me two new life experiences in one when I was minding my own business buying catnip.”

You could just barely catch him rolling his eyes, muttering under his breath and hearing the words ‘worse’ and ‘friends’.

“Minho.”

“Minho?”

Minho rocked his head to the side, huffing, “My name is Lee Minho, I have three cats - Soonie, Doongie, and Dori - and I’m a businessman. I like going to that pet store because they donate some of their profit to shelters, and I know about the catnip brands because I have three cats - changing brands is a nightmare whether it’s one cat or several.”

A small smile found its way to your lips at the new information, your mind running wild at the image of this enigma of a man playing with three cats of his own. “Okay… But, when you say businessman, what type of business do you do?”

“The type that prefers to go unmentioned to civilians for their safety.”

“What- Like working for some secret branch of the government? Are you a cult leader? A member of the mafia?” An incredulous giggle bubbled past your lips, though when his demeanor grew colder, your stomach dropped. “You’re… You’re not, right?”

“What’s your name?”

“What?”

The car rolled to a stop at a red light, granting him the grace to look at you, brown eyes locking to yours with a firm stare. “You never told me your name. If you tell me your name, I’ll tell you my job - it’s your repentance for asking me more questions past my introduction. If you don’t want to tell me, then don’t, but I won’t tell you my job.”

Your name for his profession, your safety in exchange for his safety - it was only fair, truly.

Taking a deep breath, your name fell from your lips with a small air of confidence, “You already know about my cat, and my job pays just enough to support his picky eating habits. I like that pet store because they hosted an adoption event that brought Miso into my life, and I’ve been supporting them ever since.”

He made a sound of confirmation before turning his attention back to the road, pressing the gas as the light turned green and continued the journey to your apartment.

His choice of silence was almost enough to have your conscience second guessing your decision, until you noted the way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel; twitching, anxious, compared to the streamlined, firm grip he’d showcased at the beginning of the drive.

Eventually your apartment building came into view, the car slowing to a stop once he reached the front door.

“Well…” Lingering for a moment longer, you looked at him in hopes of seeing him turn to you one final time to honor his end of the agreement, but when he remained staring at the road ahead, you let it go. “I guess this is goodbye - thank you for what you’ve done for me, Lee Minho, I appreciate it.”

As you went to unbuckle your seatbelt, his hand wrapped around your wrist, his touch sending a chill down your spine and stealing your attention just like he did outside of the pet shop.

“I’m part of the mafia,” Minho spoke plainly, his tone emotionless, statement oriented, “the person I saw earlier was someone we’ve done business with before, some low life’s henchman most likely sent to get even, that’s why I wanted to get away like I did. I didn’t want our chance encounter to end with you getting hurt - you did nothing wrong, and I wanted to make sure you would be safe.”

The mafia… You weren’t sure if him being a cult leader would’ve been better or worse than this, but staring into his eyes, you could feel it wasn’t a joke, nor an elaborate cover up.

“What I said before, about not mentioning what I do for the safety of others… I swear to you that you’ll be safe after this - I’ll make it my personal job of making sure nothing happens to you because of this, okay? No lingering ties or deals to be made, you’ll be under our watch until we take care of that stunt they tried to pull.”

His promise eased the first stretch of fear growing within you, though the rest would have to be handled once you had the proper time to process your less than normal morning.

Nodding, you slipped your wrist from his grasp and grabbed your bag, turning to get out of the car until you froze.

“If you’re worried, you don’t have to-”

You leaned across the center console and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, a sign of gratitude, “Thank you, Minho.”

Reaching into your bag, you placed his container of catnip in his hand then quickly left the car - making your way up the flight of stairs to the lobby’s doors,only to turn around to see him patiently waiting for your entrance before slipping your way past the glass doors.

On the elevator ride up to your apartment, you couldn’t help it as your thoughts ran through the events like a film reel, though you weren’t sure if it was to get over the shock of reality, or to commit the image of that man to your memory.

Lee Minho, cat owner and catnip expert.

Lee Minho, morally gray mafia member.

Lee Minho, a man you hoped you would see in the pet store again.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: Tagged lovelies will now be done within the comments of the post due to Tumblr's tagging system being broken, thank you for understanding.

@luminouskalopsia, @zaethefangirl, @chxnb97, @sometimesleeknows, @hyunjinloverrrr, @rhonnie23, @channieswife, @beautyinhypnosis

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[chubsonthemoon]

It is done! This is The Death of Translation, originally written in English by @landwriter, translated into Mandarin by @thirrith. Binding is dos-à-dos, with English version on one side and Mandarin on the other. Bookcloth was handwoven by me, on my rigid heddle loom :3

More under the cut!

Typeset: Fanbinders are Liars

Full stop, this typeset would not have been possible without Eth and all their patience, enthusiasm, and willingness to do even more translating! I reached out to them *checks watch* nearly a year ago in July 2023 (lololol), asking if I could use their translation of TDOT in a surprise bind I wanted to send along with Gloam's author copy of Flower King. They were kind enough to say yes, and even kinder to answer my questions when I reached out six months later in January, when I was finally able to start work on the typeset.

We talked about the many delicious things that are bound to come up when discussing translating not just from English to Mandarin, but also from digital space to meatspace. Some topics I had anticipated, like font questions, translating the colophon, etc. But even with the topics I thought I'd prepared for, there were still things that came up that both surprised and delighted: for example, while AO3's website allows for italics in Mandarin--

--my publishing program doesn't (or at least, it doesn't without needing to manually tilt every character by about 10 degrees). So as a workaround, Eth suggested changing these cases of italics to the font 华文楷体:

Through no one's fault but my own, this ended up being only slightly less work than manually tilting every instance of italics--I wanted to be sure that I got all of them, so I ended up doing a lot of double-checking manually anyway, instead of relying solely on the Search function. There was a lot of cross-referencing with the Word document that Eth was kind enough to provide, as well as squinting and general swearing. I also did the same for the uses of Latin script, manually styling each instance as Garamond to keep it consistent with the English edition:

The only other time I've had to do font surgery this intensive is probably for my typeset for Tell Me About the Big Bang, which I had to port over from a PDF. Folks, hell on earth. Do not recommend XD I remember squinting at my monitor as I had to visually confirm every instance of italics, thinking I will never do this again. Welp, four years later, here were are: fanbinders are liars, LMAO. At the very least, using Eth's Word document at least allowed me to search by styles, so it was a little easier on my eyes. 🙏

Is there a script that I might've been able to use if I was more code-savvy? Probably. But I figured going at it sledgehammer style would be the least hair-pulling way to get the job done, weirdly enough. Still, despite my best efforts, there are a few instances of PMingLiU to Garamond and PMingLiU to 华文楷体 that I know I missed, and I know I missed them because I caught them after I'd printed/cut/folded/sewn/glued (cue more swearing), so Gloam and Eth, my apologies >.< please consider them artifacts of a uniquely handmade object ajslkdjfs

In addition to the fonts, there were also some other fun things Eth and I discussed, like how to translate the notes I usually provide on the colophons! In addition to information on fonts, I also usually include some variation of:

This private, limited edition published by chubsthehamster (Moonham Press, imprint of Renegade Publishing) in 2024. This is chubsthehamster's personal copy. Out of three existing copies, this is the first.

The thing that came up with this, which still tickles my brain to this day, was how Eth chose how to translate "Moonham Press, imprint of Renegade Publishing." To get a better sense of what word to use for "imprint," they asked what the relationship was between Moonham Press and Renegade Publishing, which got me thinking about the relationship between my lil imprint and the wonderful @renegadeguild:

What's all very funny about all of this is that we are now, in fact, going by the name "Renegade Bookbinding Guild," per our most recently updated Code of Conduct. While this renders the wording I asked for out of date (and thus, the wording that made it into the book out of date :'D), I think it's also a testament to how cool the work @renegadeguild is doing--like any artform, fanbinding is alive, with its own evolving language, communities, and ideas about the craft. And I love it, I love it so much. (Was this also a plug for our new-ish website? Perhaps).

There's more I could say here, but this post is already going to be long enough, so I'll move on for now! If you get anything from this section, it's that @thirrith is amazing and very patient and kind, and I'm so grateful that we got to talk shop together. Thank you so much for all your invaluable help with this, Eth! I hope the typeset, though undoubtedly flawed, does your hard work justice!

Binding: Or, SO Much Math. Like, So Much, Guys. (It was worth it, though!)

Whoo, boy! So math was never my strong suit in school, but when I set out to do this bind last year, that wasn't an issue. At first. The dos-à-dos binding, if anything, just requires a little bit of finagling on the usual case-bound format--a bit more math if you want to do an all-cloth cover, like I planned on doing, but nothing I couldn't work out with some trial and error. (My prototype below!)

Then came February, when I took a weaving class with my friend, and then everything kinda exploded.

My original idea was to use some green Duo bookcloth I had on hand (this color, actually)--for those of you not initiated into the Duo cult, Duo is a Rayon bookcloth with a very devoted fan following in Renegade. It's very pretty; the Rayon weave is one color, and the paper backing is usually complementary color, so it has this cool two-toned effect. Duo is in high demand in Renegade circles because sadly, the company that manufactures it went out of business last year. (Although I've heard rumors recently that there's another company making something similar, but the cloth has a really high purchase requirement and is, like, for businesses only I think).

Anyway, I also wanted to have a gold line around the whole book as a kind of bellyband/obi to further connect the two versions of the story (another reason why I chose the dos-à-dos format to begin with heh), as you can see from my scribbled notes here--

But alas! I knew going in that adhering things to Duo is often Problematic, thanks to one very painful experience trying to get some iron-on foil on another bind (the textured surface of Duo just makes it kinda hard to stick or paint stuff on it). So if I wanted a clean, continuous line, the remaining options were to either paint it on a strip of paper that I'd somehow...adhere to the cloth? Or maybe cut different slices of bookcloth and glue them on. I wasn't satisfied with either of those options, though.

Then--the weaving class. I made a scarf, and I love it and I loved making it. But the whole time, I'll not lie, my thoughts were elsewhere.

In short, my decision to weave my own bookcloth kinda came from a few different factors:

The desire to attempt to recreate Duo, that elusive beauty, the one that got away, etc. (I have several yards in my stash, but still). Others have also attempted to recreate it, and I thought I'd throw my hat in the ring.

My current spiral into the deep hole that is fiber arts (it started with crochet, then knitting, then sewing, then weaving, then spinning, and now I'm eyeing quilting! Please help me).

The gold line. It kept bugging me. And when I found weaving, I just thought there was something very neat about the process of actually making the cloth for a dos-à-dos binding from scratch, and especially for this binding. I wanted to bind a story about translation (or rather, the death of it, and yet still the necessity of it--how we must try to communicate, despite of, or perhaps precisely because of, everything that gets lost in the spaces between people, and the tragedy of that loss, and the beauty of what makes it through, and the love always present in the effort regardless), and also, the translation of that story. Weaving is a very meditative process, and with every pass of the shuttle, back and forth, building slowly but surely the fabric that would hold the story that Gloam had written and that Eth had translated, I thought a lot about translation, and the gaps between people, and how we choose our words not just when translating, but when we speak at all. From a design perspective, I used the same colors I would've used had I chosen the Duo bookcloth--green and gold--so the design wasn't too altered in terms of color scheme. But I think the choice to weave the bookcloth--the thing that bound it all together--made the project take on a completely new meaning for me, both in process and in scope, one that hadn't been there when I started. I saw the warp, perhaps, as the original story, laying the groundwork for the weft, the translation; or maybe it was the other way around, with the translation providing the scaffolding for its own, new meaning, choices that Eth had to make with this word or phrase or another building something new, something translated, and the original a live, moving thing that wove over and under each word turned phrase turned story; or maybe it was both. Maybe it didn't matter which was which, in the end. And as I wove, the thing that connected them, that gold line that had started all of this, slowly formed.

All that to say: Good God, was there a lot of math. So much math. That prototype pictured above was actually made specifically so I could calculate exactly how much I needed to weave, lol, because while I certainly had enough thread, I didn't want to have to warp more than once. I'd learned the basics in my class, but the training wheels came off here. I wanted to make my own custom fabric, which meant calculating things like ends per inch, picks per inch, loom waste, shrinkage after washing, the width of that damn gold line, how much I'd need for the hinge, the turn-ins, the boards--the whole nine yards (I didn't actually weave nine yards tho heh). It was all absolutely worth it in the end--so challenging and so, so rewarding!

(And my final reason for weaving the bookcloth? Not gonna lie, It was because I just wanted to see if I could do it LOL. I love trying at least one new thing with each of my binds, and this was it for this project. While I've been bookbinding for a few years now, I'm still very much a beginner weaver, and I'm so excited to continue to learn and experiment! Also, here's a video of me unwinding the cloth from the loom, heh. I used 10/2 Perle cotton in gold and green colors :3)

Also, turns out, you can back handmade cloth the same way you can any other cloth! I backed it using my usual heat-n-bond method, and with some Unryu Tissue in the color Forest. Since the cloth itself is a bit transparent, there are a bunch of really fun fibers you can see when it's held up to the light, but which aren't visible when the cloth is glued down to the boards. Still, knowing they're there still makes me happy :D

Finally, capping all this off, is one final, small detail I really liked: ginkgo leaf endpapers :3 this one's for me and Eth and Gloam specifically <3

Aaaand that's all from me for today, folks! Thus ends (several months late XD) my last Binderary project for the year. This was probably my most ambitious bind to date, and gosh it was so, so much fun.

And, of course, thank you so much to Gloam for sharing your story, and Eth for translating it. I can't wait for y'all to receive your copies soon!

All my love! <3

[therobotmonster]

So... Shapeways is going bankrupt.

This is particularly irksome for me, as that's a good 1/3rd of my monthly income, so I'm crossing my fingers while I start setting up a new store on cults. I have literally thousands of items so getting them all up is going to take ages.

But why did this happen?

Well I'll fucking tell you what I think happened.

It was a company run on arrogance and cowardice.

Shapeways made its mark as the cafepress of 3d printing. The weight of this was their marketplace that let people sell prints directly to customers without having to do the printing themselves. At its peak, I made more from Shapeways than from my day job.

The problem was that Shapeways put zero effort into the marketplace. They'd send some of us to a con to promote the idea of 3d printing game minis a couple of times, sure, but when it came to actual site maintenance and design every suggestion and request by sellers was roundly ignored. We asked for better search and categorization options. We asked to be able to name variants in our stores. We asked for better communication from the print techs. We asked for accurate subcategories that actually reflected how customers looked for items. None of it was done.

As such, the site was baffling to customers and difficult to understand. This was made worse by Shapeways' continual renaming of their materials. So after a couple of years Shapeways announces that they're not going to do anything for the marketplace because it's underperforming, and are going to focus on B2B, and in doing so they buried the marketplace in a tiny little link on the front page.

Overnight sales plummeted. We complained again, nothing was done. We asked for a different URL that went straight to the marketplace (something that would literally cost them $80 to do) that we could direct customers to, we were ignored.

The marketplace is underperforming, so we won't put in the effort needed to make the marketplace perform. Makes perfect sense.

Prices go up. Shipping goes up substantially, and then it was a thousand little cuts. The auto-checks were altered to make it impossible to verify anything manually with any accuracy, so it became harder to design for the limitations of their printers.

The site slowed down substantially so every click had a several second pause, making shopping and maintaining frustrating and unpleasant. Shipping costs to many areas of the world became insanely high, effectively cutting off entire markets.

Want to not be Shapeways? Then remember this:

Your users know more about your site experience and their own needs than you do.

If you have a sales site, and the people selling through it say "this isn't working, we need this" then maybe you should listen to them and not just say 'you're wrong' to their faces.

Oh, and also, if goddamn Rolls-Royce comes in filing false DMCA claims over the use of the word "Phantom" in any context on your site, you don't take every item through a multiple day review for every edit and say "LOL, we can't do anything"

You take them to court for abusing the system on behalf of your user base, you fucking bootlicking cowards.

OH, AND I ALMOST FORGOT!

I HAD TO FIND OUT ABOUT THIS FROM A DM ON TWITTER.

They've sent me a check every month for half a decade and they don't even send a "We're closing shop" email.

Look upon my prints, ye mighty, and despair.

If you want to help me though the meantime, here's my paypal.me and my gofundme.

[igotlovestruck]

easy on me [ christian pulisic ]

you were young when you and christian broke up. you made a huge decision for the both of you back then and you were confident enough to know that the decision you made would be better for the both of you, but what happens when he learns about the biggest secret you’ve been hiding from him since you separated ways?

[ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 ] — christian pulisic x ex!reader; oc!emily, oc!ezekiel, oc!andrew . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ 🫂 °.   *

[ 𝗗𝗘𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗦 & 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ] — angst, unplanned pregnancy, profanities, inaccurate description of mentioned places (as i’m not american, nor do i live in the states) . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ ℹ️ °.   *

[ 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 ] — 6,219 words . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ 📲 °.   *

࣪˖ 💭 .. 𝗘𝗬𝗔’𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 ⌕ the LONGEST scenario i've written, all thanks to disney+ hahahaha i’ve rewatched the parent trap and the game plan the other day, so i thought about this. i also plan on writing a parent trap-like story, but i’m still figuring out how i’d write it lol but anyway, enjoy! ❤️ btw, i haven’t betaread this so if there’s any errors, let me know and i’ll edit it!

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © httpsuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

watching this little kid grow up was both scary and amazing. five years have passed since you met him, since you first heard his heartbeat. five years ago, he opened his eyes and welcomed himself in this cruel world one september morning. watching him grow up to the person he was today felt both accomplishing and depressing. ezekiel mate was his name, and yes–you’ve named him after his father. his father who is not aware of his own existence. it wasn’t ezekiel’s fault though, you’ve made this decision by yourself and there was nothing you could do but uphold your decision and do your responsibilities as a mother–a single mother in fact. you thought it would be the best for all sides, for you and ezekiel’s father. 

he has his own career to think about, he was about to make his name known to people. to be known in the sport he loved most and all people would cheer his name, plaster printed copies of his face and name across the whole country. you didn’t want to ruin that opportunity for him, a child would only affect his career. between practices, training, matches, flights–surely, christian wouldn’t have any time to take care of a child. with you in north america and him in europe, it just simply wouldn’t work. you still remember the night you broke up with him, in fact, you can’t forget about it. it haunts you like a stupid nightmare, it keeps you awake most of the time.

you sacrificed a lot for ezekiel. giving up university for a year to navigate things on how to be a mom, and trying to make ends meet by working–sure, your parents were there to help financially and take care of your baby in times you needed them, but you wanted to be able to support ezekiel on your own. balancing work, university and a growing child was hard and there were days that you wanted to just give up. but you didn’t, because you were the only parent that ezekiel has in his life.

“mama?” you heard a tiny voice call you, waking you up from reverie. ezekiel’s tiny footsteps were heard as he ran towards you. “why are you still awake?” you smiled at the little boy, gently picking him up from the ground and sat him on the kitchen counter in front of you. his slightly curly hair, deep dimples and honey brown eyes that look so captivating under the light, reminded you so much of his father. not to mention, they both share the same birthday.

“just… thinking of something, baby.” you answer, “why are you still awake? we have a flight to catch tomorrow, you know?”

“i know! we’re going to florida, to aunt emily and i’m too excited to sleep, mama.”

you giggled, “well, we both need to sleep now. we have an early flight and you need to have a lot of energy when you get to aunt emily’s place.”

you took ezekiel in your arms, making sure that his favourite stuffed toy was secured in his arms as you made your way back to his room. gently, you put him to his bed and tucked him in, sitting on the edge of his bed as you stared at him, waiting for his eyelids to shut as he told you how his day was. ezekiel spent the day with your parents, they lived nearby and offered to babysit him while you went to work.

minutes later, ezekiel’s words were slurring. meaning, he was about to drift off to dreamland. you both have to be awake by 5 am to catch your flight, and it was already almost midnight. you don’t need a fussy, grumpy 4-year-old throughout your 3 hour flight to florida. when you were sure that ezekiel was fast asleep, you planted a kiss on his head, tips of your fingers running through his soft cheeks as you stared at him. 

you left ezekiel’s room, quietly shutting the door closed. instead of going to your room to rest, you opted to stay in the living room. you sat there in silence, letting your own thoughts eat you again. you felt anxious, but you can’t pinpoint the exact reason why. you stare at the wall across from where you were sitting, it was filled with pictures of your family and some pictures of you and ezekiel. the ones from his birth, to his birthdays and his first day of preschool. you remembered that day clearly, when you fetched ezekiel from your parents’ place after his first day of preschool about a few months ago. you two were driving back to your place from your parents, he was quietly playing with his ipad behind you when he asked something you didn’t expect.

“mama, do i have a papa?” he asked, eyes still on his gadget. your heart dropped at the question. “i saw my friends with their papa today. do i have a papa?”

you remember pulling over the side of the road to take a deep breath before answering. he picked it up so early, noticing that it was only the two of you the past four years. 

“of course you have a papa, my love.” you answered, not really sure what to say next.

“why is he not here? does my papa hate us?”

sometimes, four year olds ask the most piercing questions and they don’t even know how it could change one’s whole mood, just like what your son was doing. “he doesn’t hate us, your papa is just… busy.” 

“is it my fault, mama?”

you sighed, removing your seatbelt and faced ezekiel. “no, baby. it’s not your fault, it will never be your fault.” you said, smiling to let him know that he wasn’t in any sort of trouble. “it’s just… mama and papa needed some time away from each other. it doesn’t mean that it’s your fault, baby. it’s never your fault.”

ezekiel smiled at you, mumbling a small okay. you chose to go to the nearest fast food chain drive thru, not in the mood to cook as you were tired the whole day and with ezekiel’s questions to you, sure enough you wouldn’t be able to focus on making dinner. 

“it’s mama’s fault, zeke.” you murmured, holding a picture of your son. “i’m the one to blame.”

—

“if you don’t wait for mama, you might be lost and i will be very sad.” you tell your 4-year-old as you wait for your bags. 

the flight from new york to florida was easy, because your son was asleep throughout the duration of the flight. however, it was during the landing when he woke up and started to be talkative and hyper. you only had at least an hour or two of sleep from last night, waking up at 3 am to catch a 6 am flight. ezekiel was usually listening to you every time you two go out, but since he’s all napped out, you were dealing with a hyper kid (you blame yourself for giving him cookies before you landed). 

ezekiel held your hand as you pushed your luggage towards the arrivals exit. you two were greeted with a big sign that says welcome to florida, y/n and zeke! by your best friend, emily and her husband, andrew. your son ran straight to his godmother, he couldn’t read the sign yet but he knew it was his favourite aunt.

“zeke, you’re a big boy now!” emily exclaimed, hugging him tight and letting go of your son a few seconds later to face you. “and you, a hot mama, you’re looking beautiful as ever!”

you playfully hit her arm and hugged her. the four of you made way for the other people in the airport, heading to the parking lot. emily and andrew had invited you over to celebrate the fourth of july with them, as well as to meet your goddaughter, celeste. they invited the two of you to stay with them for a week as emily said that you two had a lot of catching up to do.

the drive from the airport to the emmons’ residence wasn’t that far, it only took the four of you about forty-five minutes. emily and andrew’s place was beautiful and cosy, perfect for the couple and the family they dreamed of building. your room for the week had a view of the lake, which you liked the most. emily had ezekiel for a few minutes as you unpack your stuff and prepare ezekiel’s swimming trunks.

“we can go boat riding in the next few days!” emily told ezekiel, “but for now, we can swim in the backyard and play with celeste. is that okay with you, zeke?”

ezekiel nodded his head, turning to you. “your swimming trunks are in the room. change first and go back to mama so i can put sunscreen on you, alright?”

“yes mama!”

ezekiel changed his clothes and had his sunscreen applied, excitedly joining andrew in the pool. you and emily were lounging with her 4-month-old daughter, celeste. the day passed by so quickly; it seems like ezekiel enjoyed his first day in florida as after dinner, instead of asking for his ipad to play and watch his favourite kids show, he asked if he could go to sleep. poor kid must’ve been exhausted running around the backyard with andrew. when you were certain that ezekiel was tucked and safe on the bed, you went back to the living room where the couple was waiting for you.

“little too early for wine, isn’t it?” you smiled, taking a seat across the couple. 

“it’s never too early for wine.” said emily, “plus, celeste is already asleep and hopefully, won’t wake up for the next three hours.”

the three of you were talking about life now that you were all parents now. unlike you, emily was fairly new to parenthood and she has someone by her side throughout the journey. were you jealous? maybe you were, a little. but you had a choice and your choice was to go through this alone anyway, so you immediately shut those thoughts off. 

unlike you, your best friend did everything by the book. she and andrew got married over a year ago, gave birth to their first child, and not long ago, they recently bought a home in a gated community which is why they moved from new york to florida. nevertheless, you were happy for emily. she deserved it after all.

as the three of you continued to converse, andrew had asked a question you weren’t expecting: “are you on good terms with ezekiel’s dad?” you understood why he had asked you that, he had no idea about your relationship with christian because the two of you met when he and emily started dating during their years in university, unlike emily who knew you since you were still in diapers. 

“babe, that’s not—”

“it’s okay, emily.” you said, “he and i have not spoken since i was pregnant with ezekiel. i have no idea what’s going on with his life now, but wherever he is, i just hope he’s doing well in his career.”

since you and christian broke up, you made sure not to see his name or hear anything about him at all. blocked him and muted his name and any word tied to his name including football and soccer. it wasn’t easy at first but you got used to it as the years passed by. you wonder what happened in his career now, was he still in dortmund? which part of europe was he living now? how was his career in the national team? 

the past five years, you’ve been avoiding christian and everything related to him, yet you go back to square one whenever someone asks you about him. you and christian only dated for a year, and your relationship was really private back then. only a handful of people knew about it. nobody knows outside of your family and emily that ezekiel’s father was christian. the people around you and your family thought that you were knocked up by some random guy you met in university. did it hurt? of course it did. having people see you as a careless young adult, have them judge you for being a parent at such a young age but that didn’t stop you from trying your best to be a good parent to ezekiel.

however, sooner or later, ezekiel would ask you about his father—it already happened one time, and you know it’s bound to happen again in the future. was it selfish to hide your child from his own father? yes, it was, but you couldn’t blame yourself for wanting to protect him. you were aware how cruel people could be, especially people who idolise christian. you could take the hate from them but the thought of your only child getting unnecessary hate from the people who don’t know the whole story simply breaks your heart and makes you anxious.

but, who knows what the future holds?

—

“andrew, y/n and i will go for a quick run!” emily announced to her husband. 

andrew appears in the kitchen, celeste was in his arms and trying to make the baby burp. “is it okay to leave ezekiel here? i mean, andrew’s already taking care of celeste.” you said, a bit worried that andrew couldn’t handle two kids. 

andrew chuckles, “i’ll be fine as soon as celeste falls asleep. me and mr. big boy here can play video games while she naps.” he answered, “now, you ladies go. we’ll be fine here.”

“are you sure, andrew?”

“y/n, andrew has babysat most of his nephews and nieces all at once, and he has 6 of them. i think he can handle an infant and a child.” emily laughs, “now, let’s go!”

“alright, alright!” you gave in, levelling with ezekiel’s eyes. “promise mama that you’ll be a good boy for uncle andrew?”

you extend out your pinky, and ezekiel wrapped his around yours, putting a smile on everyone’s faces. seconds after that, you and emily were out of the door and started running laps around the whole neighbourhood. it took you two an hour before you stopped by a local park, finding a shade to relax for a bit. the both of you were quiet, enjoying the sound of the trees as you relaxed. 

“i’m sorry about andrew’s question last night.” emily suddenly said, “you know, the one about he-who-must-not-be-named.”

you let out a chuckle and shook your head. “it’s okay, ems. it was just an innocent question.” you said, playing with the hem of your shirt. “it’s really not the first time someone asked about him anyway.”

“what do you mean?”

“zeke. he asked about his dad during his first day of school, a few months back.” you answer, “he asked if he had a dad, if his dad hates us because he wasn’t present and… was it his fault why his dad’s not around.”

“oh my… y/n, i’m sorry.”

emily hugs you tightly, feeling a bit sad as zeke was too young to think about such things. you never told anyone about your conversation with your son that day until today, and it felt so good to finally get it out of your chest. 

“i feel so selfish to keep him away from christian, you know?” you open up, “but it was the only thing i could think of. ems, you know how well his career was going back then. i didn’t want him to sacrifice such a huge opportunity for me and ezekiel back then.”

at this point, you were tearing up. you couldn’t help it. you were always vulnerable when you talked about ezekiel and christian. back when you found out that you were pregnant, you made this decision to break up with christian and have the baby alone. back then it felt like you shot two birds with one stone, christian’s career being the one bird and the other is protecting your child from the public eye. 

you and emily stayed at the park for a few more minutes, just until you cried out and walked back home. maybe it was time, it’s been years after all and christian deserve to know the truth. the whole day passed, ezekiel enjoyed spending it with you and the emmons, taking you both on a boat ride which ezekiel loved the most. seeing your child’s smile from ear to ear warmed your heart, yet you felt guilty. since ezekiel was born, there was this guilt that was running through your heart; that nagging guilt saying that you were depriving both of them by taking away the chance to be in each other’s life. 

fuck it, i’m gonna do it. you thought to yourself in the middle of the night while staring at the ceiling.

christian thought his eyes were deceiving him the moment he saw the notification, his fingers immediately pressing on the message. usually, he would ignore message requests, but as he saw your name, he had flashbacks all of a sudden. it’s been five years, yet your name was still imprinted in his mind. five years of thinking where did he go wrong in your relationship, if there was something he did that made you end your relationship, and if it had something to do with his career. five years ago, his career was thriving and his love life came crashing. 

he remembered the night you broke up with him, it was when you flew to visit him during your winter break and it happened on a typical day. the two of you did the usual routine since you arrived, wake up together, eat together and after that, he went to training while you stayed at his place. by the time he arrived, you ate dinner together. he even offered to wash the dishes as you already cooked. life was perfect, or so he thought. 

“is there something bothering you?” he asked when he noticed the change of mood while you two lied in bed. “talk to me.”

“it’s just nothing.” 

normally, christian would ask you again–if you were okay, what was bothering you and all. but this time, he heard your tone that signified you weren’t really in the mood, so he let it go. the two of you cuddled up in bed, with you as the little spoon and listening to each other breathing. until you asked him a question.

“what do you think of kids, chris?”

“what do you mean what do i think of kids?”

“you know, what is your opinion about kids? about having and raising your own?”

christian chuckles, letting you turn around to face him. “well, i would like to have one, maybe two or three.” he answered, “but definitely not now. we’re still young, we have dreams to achieve. big dreams in our careers. what about you?”

there was a brief moment of silence before you spoke up, “yeah, same answer as you, i guess.”

he remembers changing the topic that night, he didn’t notice your lack of energy speaking to him–thinking that maybe you were just tired and weren’t in the mood to speak. the following day, same routine. only then, when he arrived home, you two got into an argument that eventually led to the end of your relationship.

hey, i can make time. we can meet tomorrow. after agreeing where you’ll meet, christian couldn’t help but wonder what was the reason behind it. will it be the closure he’s been longing for the past five years?

morning came and only a few hours left until you meet christian. you let emily know about your plan, agreeing to watch ezekiel and let you borrow her car to drive to the park where you and christian agreed to meet. to say that you were nervous was an understatement of what you’re feeling. you still wonder what his reaction would be and how he would take such a huge news you were about to drop. 

the time left passed by so quickly. you kissed your son goodbye and drove to carlin park. when you arrived, you were stunned by the number of people. surely, you didn’t want to tell your baby daddy that you were pregnant with his child in front of hundreds of people, especially since he was a known athlete. anxiety pools all over you again, taking deep breaths before getting out of the car and head to the agreed place. 

“christian?” you called, walking towards him. he turned around and smiled at you. you haven’t seen this man in years. he has changed so much, he looked like a stranger you know too well. his beard was fully grown, it looked good on him. his left arm was filled with tattoos. looking at christian now, you could see what ezekiel would look like in the future; after all, he was the spitting image of his father.

“it’s nice to see you again, y/n.” he said, “shall we go for a walk at the beach or do you want to sit down?”

“we could go for a walk.”

you could hear your heart thumping at this point as you walked alongside christian. 

“it's been five years, y/n. how have you been?” he asked.

you took a deep breath, “well, i graduated. i also work now, so i guess i’m fine.” you answer, not sure if it was the answer he wanted to hear. “and i apologise for asking to meet up last minute. if i ever clashed with a schedule of yours.”

“it’s okay, i still have a few days before i leave for milan anyway.” he answered, “why did you want to meet all of a sudden? and i’m a bit shocked that you know where i stay now.”

this is it, y/n. you cannot fuck this up. “actually, i didn’t know that you lived around the area. i blocked you in every social media i have, muted your name and tried my best to avoid seeing your name. just last night, i found out that you live here now. the internet’s a scary place, you know?” you said, “but, aside from that, i do have something to tell you. something big and important.”

christian chuckles awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “uh, okay. what is it?”

“do you remember the night we broke up?”

“can’t really forget about it.” he replied, “why?”

“the night before i asked you what you think about having kids, and you said you’d like to have one but you said we still had dreams to achieve, right?” he nodded, “well, that day i actually found out that i…i was pregnant. 5 weeks back then.”

christian stopped his tracks and when you looked back at him, his face dropped and his eyebrows were furrowed. confusion was spread all over his face.

“i–i didn’t ask to meet you because i need some sort of financial support for the kid or whatever, i just wanted to let you know.” you said, biting your lip as he stayed silent. “if you want to do some paternity tests, i would gladly let you.”

“no, no. i uh, believe you.” he replied, “is the baby…?”

“he’s four and has the same birthday as you, chris. he’s doing well in preschool, and uh…” you paused, pulling out your phone from your pocket and opened a picture of ezekiel to show him. “this is him. his name’s ezekiel mate. he’s your mini me.”

“mate?”

“yeah, well… at first i wanted to give him your last name but i thought it’ll stir controversy so i opted to give him your middle name.” you confessed, passing him your phone. “i hope that doesn’t bother you, christian but i understand if it does. and really, i apologise for telling you this so late.”

christian looked at ezekiel’s picture, examining his facial features that reminded you of him. ezekiel looked like him when he was still a kid, he could see some of your features there as well and there is no doubt that this wasn’t his kid. the pulisic genes were strong and evident. 

the two of you continued to walk along the beach, christian was asking you questions about ezekiel until you two stopped in the part of the beach where there were less people. you were both staring at the horizon, it was then when christian asks you the question you’ve been avoiding. 

“did you… did you plan on telling me about him even before today?” 

“...yes” you breathed, “i–i was supposed to tell you, christian. i really wanted to, but you were just… you had a huge opportunity to showcase yourself in europe. i didn’t want to take that away from you.”

“why?”

“because i know how demanding your job could be. it was already demanding when we were together, it ate a lot of our time together. a part of me thought that maybe a child would be a huge inconvenience to your career.”

all the small milestones that ezekiel achieved, christian had missed out and you wouldn’t blame christian if he chooses to be mad or hate you for hiding his child from him. he had every right to do so after missing five years of his son’s life.

“why didn’t you reach out to me, to my family at least?”

“i was afraid, okay? i was young, we were young. i was figuring out who i wanted to be and obviously, being a young mother was something i did not expect that i’ll be.” you said, on the verge of tears.

“and so, was it okay for you? to be a young, single mom?” he fought back, “y/n, if you had told me before, you know i would do everything. i would’ve quit—”

“and that’s exactly why i didn’t tell you. i changed who i was to put you both first, christian. i wanted you to succeed, you had dreams. at the same time, i wanted a normal life for ezekiel.” you said, tears cascading out of your eyes. “you were achieving your lifelong dreams, christian. i didn’t want to interfere with that. i didn’t want you and your parents’ hard work to be cut short because of me, because of ezekiel.”

christian then realised the things you had gone through raising ezekiel alone. his heart broke when he heard the things people around you told you when your bump started showing. it hurts him to think that you’ve gone through it all alone–all the heartbreaking things people around you told you. even before, when you were still together, it was one of the things that he admired about you. you were a strong and resilient woman.

“can i… can i meet him?” 

that caught you off guard, “sure, i guess. when do you want to meet him?”

“tonight, if it’s okay with you?”

you nodded your head, a bit unsure how ezekiel would react. normally, he is shy when meeting new people. but this wasn’t any other person, this was his father. so when christian walked you back to the car and made sure you were inside, you dialled emily’s number.

“how’d it go?” was the first thing she said upon answering the call while you started the engine of the car.

“it went well, surprisingly.” you answered, “one little problem though.”

“what?”

“he uh, he wants to meet him. tonight.” you said, biting your lip. “would it be okay if christian came over at your place?”

“are you crazy? it’s more than okay! plus, it’s much safer and private here instead of going out. lots of people know him, you know?” 

you sighed, “i’m nervous, ems. i don’t know how zeke will react, i don’t even know what i’ll say to him.”

“zeke is a wonderful kid, i’m sure he will be okay when you tell him the truth.” emily reassures, “look, me and andrew will just be here to support you. no matter how it goes, alright?”

“thank you, ems. literally for everything.”

emily giggles on the other end, “hey, that’s what friends are for, silly!” she joked, “okay, now i’m gonna end this call to go get dinner ready. you get home safely!”

“dinner?”

“duh, christian pulisic is coming to my place and i’m not gonna serve him anything? i’m a very hospitable person, of course, i’ll make him something good.”

—

two hours of prepping dinner with the couple, christian rings the doorbell. emily whispered to you good luck as she and andrew stayed in the kitchen, keeping an eye on the food you all made while you head to the front door. you took a few breaths before opening the door for him. dressed in a simple button down with a shirt inside and a pair of shorts, holding a bouquet of flowers.

your heart skipped a beat. 

“hi,” he smiled, “these are for you.”

you make way for christian to enter the foyer, taking the flowers from his hands. “thank you, they’re pretty.” you compliment, “this is uh… emily and her husband’s place, by the way. we’re just visiting.”

just in time, emily and andrew entered the scene. “you remember emily, right?” you asked and he nodded.

“it’s been a while, christian.” emily smiled and introduced andrew to him. “dinner will be ready in a few. me and andrew are just in the kitchen if you need us.”

you led christian to the den, leaving him there as you went to get ezekiel. christian was nervous, just like you. he doesn’t know anything about parenting, or how to be a dad in general. he depended on such little information you told him about your son. everything was happening too fast, all he knows is that today was such a crazy day. one minute he finds out he has a son, the other he’s meeting him. he hasn’t even told his family about this information!

“zekey, could you promise to be good for mama?” you asked your son which christian heard, “remember when you asked mama if you had a papa?”

“yes, mama. you told me i had one but papa is just busy that’s why we haven’t seen him.” that broke christian’s heart.

“well, papa is here now.”

seeing ezekiel mate in person was a different feeling than seeing him on your phone earlier today. usually, when meeting new people, ezekiel would hide behind you and stay there until he feels comfortable. but this time, he didn’t. instead, he ran towards christian and gave him a hug.

“hello, papa.”

you bit your lower lip, trying to stop yourself from being emotional as you watch christian and ezekiel meet for the first time. 

“hello, ezekiel.” christian smiled, “i’m sorry, papa is so busy. but i’m here now.”

you’ve never seen ezekiel conversate with everybody else this way. he was engaging with every single question that christian asks him, telling him the little details about his life. god, why did you wait so long for these two to meet?

as the father and son get to know each other, you head to the kitchen to continue helping emily and andrew. emily was smiling at you when she saw you enter.

“i told you it’s gonna go well.” she said, “now that zekey and christian have met, what’s up with you and him?”

“what do you mean?”

“the flowers. maybe the two of you could reignite the spark you once had?”

you shook your head, continuing to mash the potatoes to serve later. “it’s not… it’s nothing like that. i doubt anything would happen between us, i mean, he’s probably dating someone.”

“really? you don’t see the two of you dating again?” andrew asked, and you shook your head again. “aww, i was almost excited to be friends with a star player. like, imagine the two of us barbecuing in the backyard?”

“babe, i think you’re man-crushing christian.” emily laughed. “but in all seriousness, y/n. no?”

“nope.” you replied, “like i said, he’s probably dating someone. plus it seems like we both moved on, we put the “us” in the past and i think it’ll stay that way.”

“what about zeke?”

you sighed, “we can co-parent, i guess. if he wants to, of course. i’m not going to force him into something he doesn’t want, at the end of the day, i still want what’s best for zeke and him.” you explained, “if he doesn’t want to co-parent, then that’s totally fine. i’ve raised zeke, i’m sure i can handle it.”

“really?”

“look,” you snapped, “i’m sorry guys, i love you both but… i just have a lot of things in my mind right now. it’s been a long day, can’t we just put the questions aside and just get through dinner?”

the couple nodded their heads. they understood where you were coming from, it wasn’t an easy decision for you to let ezekiel and his father meet, plus it all happened so fast and they were blabbing about the possibilities that could happen in the future. you left the two shortly after you helped them prepare the dining table, heading straight to where you left ezekiel and christian. 

ezekiel was in between christian’s legs, focused on his father’s phone as he showed him a compilation of his goals uploaded on youtube. when your son acknowledges your presence, he has the biggest smile on his face.

“mama, i want to play football like papa!”

you chuckle, taking a seat next to them. “well, i guess we could give it a try. but for now, let’s go eat dinner.” you tell your son, and he nodded his head, removing himself from christian’s grasp and ran out of the room, leaving you and his father alone. “so uh, just let me know if you’re uncomfortable during dinner. i can—”

“no, no, no. it’s okay.” christian said, “i, uh… about ezekiel—”

“we can talk about it after dinner.” you said, giving him a small smile as you walked to the dining. 

ezekiel was sandwiched between you and christian. the four adults exchanged stories, andrew expressing his shock upon finding out that the father of ezekiel is a star player for the national team. ezekiel adjusted with christian faster than you expected, knowing your son, it would usually take him a few more interactions before he started to talk to them completely but he was really comfortable with him. christian was his father after all.

after dinner, christian thanked the hosts of the house. he even offered to put ezekiel to bed, but the kid had too much energy left in his body and couldn’t sleep yet. he bid his goodbye to ezekiel, promising that they’ll meet and bond again soon which made ezekiel a bit sad, yet happy. when everything was already sorted out, you walked christian back to his car.

“today was… i don’t know, crazy and fun.” he admits, stopping next to his car. “it was a lot to process but i think i’m okay. more than okay with ezekiel, he’s… he’s a good kid and you’ve done so much for him. i’ve never met a kid so clever like him at a young age.”

you smile, you didn’t really expect his compliment and it made you shy. “thank you. i have to say, the people around him influenced him a lot.” you replied.

silence once again surrounded the two of you, you were both waiting for someone to speak–bring up the topic of co-parenting. you didn’t want to be the first one to ask him because it would feel like you were pressuring christian, and christian didn’t want to be the first one to ask you because he knew it would be such a huge adjustment for you and ezekiel.

“y/n” christian called.

you look up to him, staring directly into his honey brown eyes. again, no one was talking. just the sound of the wind and a broken street light not far from where you were standing. the space between you and christian was getting smaller and smaller, his hands gently making their way to your jaw. and the next thing you know, your lips were connected. feeling his lips on yours made your heart beat faster, butterflies in your stomach were getting crazier. 

you pulled away, holding his wrist. his forehead and nose on yours as you both catched your breath and closed your eyes. christian felt tears on his cheeks, causing him to open his eyes. 

“i can’t… we can’t–” you said, pulling away from him.

“y/n–”

“i’m sorry, chris.” 

you ran back inside the house, leaving christian alone in the driveway and he stood there frozen as he tried to process what had happened. did he move too fast? were you overwhelmed by his actions? questions ran through the player’s mind. maybe he did move too fast, and maybe you were scared that history may repeat itself. but this time, christian wanted to let you know that it wouldn’t, that he would do his best to conquer everything. christian was determined to have you again, because this time it isn’t only you he’s fighting for. 

he was fighting for you and ezekiel.

[lemotmo]

I love it when people who at least have an idea of how these things work get questions like this.

Q. Did you hear Ryan's podcast? I'm vibrating at this point 👀👀👀

A. Haha, I did listen to it, anon. It was a good reminder of why podcasts usually turn out to be the better interviews. If you're not aware, in 99% of print interviews the questions have been pre screened by the actors/show so they go into the interview already knowing pretty much everything they're going to say. It's why so many of them are repetitive. Podcasts tend to have a little more leeway. They usually only have to get topics pre-approved. So even though they know what topics are going to be discussed they don't usually know the specific questions. Now obviously those interviews come with greater risks because if your actor doesn't know how to edit themselves they could say something epically bad. Obviously this one was pre-recorded so he had a little bit of a safety cushion but it didn't appear to be heavily edited content wise. I love that he touched on the racist/bigoted thing. Even though this came prior to the entire Gerard nonsense, I'm glad he got a chance to tell those people how incredibly wrong they are where he is concerned. I hope he hasn't seen most of it, but given everything he has been tagged in I fear he has seen more than he should have ever had too.

He's in the position now that Oliver was last year. He's the one doing the promotional interviews, but he's just out of canned answers he can give, lol. There's nothing left for him to say except the 'thing' he can't yet say. So you can tell he's trying to make the same answers sound somewhat new and for the most part he was able to do that. It was though just one more thing that kind of made you go, yeah it's going where we think it's going. I just think the show is all out of later. They can't keep pushing the story to 'next season'. And I think that's why we're seeing so many winks and nods from ABC and the show. The comments they replied to yesterday were intentional. Yes, they deleted them but they knew the people who they were intended for would see them and remember them. It's time. Let's go.

Thanks Nonny!

Ah yes! Hard agree on everything here! I haven't seen/heard the whole podcast yet (I'm planning to listen tomorrow when I'm relaxing), but I've seen all of the videos, snippets and quotes about 911 and Eddie that were posted online.

Everything is aligning and people are noticing the change. There is this tentative surge of emotion of 'Oh wow, this is it. It's actually happening this time. No more clowning,' going around in fandom and even beyond the fandom. Love that for us.

So yeah, the time is right.

The time is now.

Let's go!

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[riansdiary]

My Favorite Loa/Manifesting Analogies

(my own analogies and analogies from other loa bloggers)

Hi everybody! 🤗

Or should I say...

Dearest Gentle Readers 💎

I'm back with a new post for you! This is the result of me trying to make myself understand the law of assumption better. I was internalizing and thinking deeply about manifesting and I just came up with the best analogies to explain things better to myself! The best way to understand it better is to take a break from Tumblr and internalize it in your own time! This is why bloggers say that you don't need to read anything more or over consume. You might actually explain it to yourself in a better way suited to you as you take a break from Tumblr!

I've been making analogies to help me in manifesting and I wanted to put them in one place including my new one as well! I also have a new epiphany and I thought I could put it here as well! It's similar to an analogy anyway!

Before that, I have something slightly more esoteric and I wonder if you want me to make a post for it so I'm just gonna let you decide and put a poll on here.

Basically, I learned from @nonbinarydeity to talk to my subconscious mind. Your subconscious mind is also your higher self. It has more answers to your questions about the law of assumption than anyone else in the community.

Here is the post where I learned about this! I think you should read it first to get an idea about this. Every time I asked my subconscious something, I wrote it on my notes app so I can read it anytime and remember the answers I got. Now, I wanna ask if you guys wanna see the answers from my own subconscious mind. It's mostly about manifesting. It sounds like me but at the same time it knows more than me and it has been helping me find out why I was ever having trouble with manifesting.

So here's the poll:

Why don't we start?

#1 The planting analogy (by @remcycl333)

This one is not from me but it's my favorite analogy so far and credits to @remcycl333 for this amazing analogy! I read it from her post and I wanted to share this because I know it will help a lot of people. I'm also putting what I thought of this! Here's the original post where I saw this analogy. Here is the plant analogy from her post:

My thoughts:

Persisting is like you finally letting your plant grow and not digging it up or checking it or thinking that it's not growing. You let the old story die by not giving it any attention. I'm letting my plant grow and watering it. But technically you know it's gonna end up growing right? A plant always grows.

#2 The newspaper analogy (mine)

Here is my original post for that but I have more information to share about that! I feel like it's important to share this additional information about this analogy!

When you are manifesting, you are like a newspaper writer except that you don't just write one column, you write everything. Let's say that you don't like what you're seeing and you wanna change something. What does the writer have to do? Write, of course. That is equivalent to you doing your technique whether that be affirming, deciding, commanding your subconscious mind or visualizing and more. Now, when you want something, it immediately manifests in imagination aka the 4d internal world. Manifestation is instantaneous in the 4d. So yes, when you affirm even for the first time it's already real and manifested in the 4d or imagination then it will be reflected by the 3d as long as you persist.

Let's talk about you wavering and finding your manifestation in the 3d. That is basically the writer looking at yesterday's newspaper angrily bcs they want to see the latest but he forgot something didn't he? He's the writer. All he needs to do is write and naturally it will be printed and now they can see the latest news.

This is also another good way to see it. The writer looking for the latest news and getting frustrated when they see the older editions is like you when you waver or dwell in the old story. The writer is focusing on the older editions instead of writing but he has a job right? The writer having to do his job is like the 3d doing its job which is just copying, following and reflecting your 4d which is your mind, your thoughts, your assumptions and imagination.

See, the 3d has no choice but to do its job like the writer. The writer then forgetting that he has to write the news had no idea but to just copy and print more of yesterday's news because that's what he's focusing on. If you keep looking at the old story then what happens? You get more of the old story. You're printing more and more of what you don't want. I hope you're getting this easier now with this analogy. Focusing on the old story, wavering and checking the 3d will get you more of the 3d.

What do we need to do to get what we want then, Rian? Well, you need to write and leave the old edition behind. Again, this sentence also works for what you want. The 3d has no choice but to reflect you. If the writer writes a new edition and persists on it then they will get the latest news! If you think, know and assume you have it and persist. It will naturally materialize but do not focus on that matter because you do have it if you say you do no matter what the 3d shows right now because it follows whatever is in the 4d.

I will give you the biggest manifesting tip I have! This is how I've been getting what I'm manifesting! Just think, assume, know or do whatever technique works for you but after that, go and do what makes you happy. That will distract you from checking the 3d or focusing on circumstances. Also if you technically have it in the 4d which you do, why not be happy now? Please do the things that make you feel good and make your heart happy. I recommend rewatching your favorite childhood movies because I know it's nostalgic and will make you happy. It doesn't mean to force yourself to be happy but it's to do things that will make you feel good. That means distracting you from the 3d and old story. It is a way of persisting and loving yourself because you deserve it. It is a form of self-care.

This is literally what I did when I manifested those crackers. What did I do? I said "I have the crackers. It's in the pantry" then later on my dad and brother came home with a pack of the exact crackers I wanted without me telling them what I wanted. What did I do after I reminded myself it's in my reality now and it's done? I relaxed into the knowing that it is done. I laid down and relaxed. I watched my favorite childhood movie which is Sleeping Beauty and so I distracted myself from checking or dwelling in the old story. It also made me feel better and not worry or get anxious about my manifestations. That's all I did, I considered it done and relaxed. I left the 3d alone and let the plant grow aka my manifestation.

#3 The online shopping analogy (i thought of this too but I know other bloggers have talked about it as well)

Here's my official post for it and I'm just gonna let it speak for itself because everything is in that post.

#4 Buying a new shirt analogy (mine)

I'm sure everyone has replaced and discarded one of their old clothes or shirts right? Okay so then you bought a new shirt and what exactly happened after? Yes, you wore your new shirt and stopped wearing the old ripped one. You might have turned it into a rug or recycled it another way. This is similar to being in the state of wish fulfilled or being the version of you who has that desire.

Let's say your old shirt is really old and disgusting so you decided to buy a new one. Similar to us not wanting what we're seeing and wanting something new for us. The old damaged shirt is the old story and the newly bought shirt is the new story. Meaning the old shirt symbolizing what you see in the 3d and the new shirt symbolizing you assuming you have what you want. When you buy a new shirt, you wouldn't go and wear the old one right? In manifesting, it's like that. I was thinking about my desired face. We need to eliminate and forget about the old story so what do we do? We wear the new shirt aka accept my desire that I already have a new face, my desired face. You wouldn't go back to wearing the old shirt when you bought a new one right? So you toss it out or make it into a rug. Completely forgetting and not paying attention to it anymore.

Yesterday, I was in the bathroom thinking of creating a new analogy to help me not dwell on the old story. I started thinking of an analogy for undesired things. For those things and the old story, you just need to stop talking or thinking about it and let it die off. Whatever you focus on grows so do not pay attention to anything you don't want because if you do, it'll stick and stay in your reality but if you don't feed it any attention, it'll die off and go away on its own. Think that it's a hater, think that it's someone saying crazy stuff to you when you know the truth that your desires are facts. If you don't give it any attention, it will die on its own and go away.

I read a great post from an amazing blogger and I will link their awesome post here. When you do your techniques, do not consider them a technique and think that it's a reality already! You create your reality and you are the writer. Just affirm as if it's true and you're telling a story. Stop thinking of it as a technique but think that it's already a reality. Don't think of it as a technique but think that whatever you're affirming, assuming or visualizing is already true and that it is a reality now and that it already happened despite what you see. You just never back down from a decision you made. I said I have my desires and that's it. It's in my reality now. Whenever I affirmed, I didn't think of it as a technique but that it's already the truth. Oh yeah, I love that Dad has a six figure salary at home job and it's stuff that he's an expert on so it's literally child's play and super easy for him to do.

The undesired and old story? What do you mean? They're literally nothing and nonexistent. If you focus on your desires being true now and leave the old story and never touch it again, think of it as nothing then you won't have anything to use to think against the new story. If you focus on doing what makes you happy, you're taking your attention away from the old story and letting it die. It's like you decided to finally let your plant grow and not dig it up or check it or thinking that it's not growing. You let the old story die by not giving it any attention. So when I affirmed about me having all my desires now and being a master at manifesting and manifesting being easy to me, I stopped thinking of it as a technique. It's just the truth for me now. I started talking as if it's really the truth now and it's facts. I'm letting my plant grow and watering it. But technically you know it's gonna end up growing right? A plant always grows.

I'm gonna keep adding any other analogy I make or my new favorite ones that can help everyone understand the law in an easier way.

I will leave with the proof for my success story in this post. I manifested getting paid to exist and I finally was able to convert half of my cryptocurrency to actual online cash! I only converted half of it to save the rest for later. This is thanks to my Dad who is so really good in technology and he discovered this app with my uncle and they recommended that me and other family members install it. We went through a strict verification process which includes verifying your identity and making sure that it is you that's in your ID. It failed once but I manifested that it will be processed successfully! Now most of us in my family are earning money from that app just by tapping a button every day. Once you tap it, it will start giving you points as it runs in the background. I'm really happy about this manifestation!

That's all and happy manifesting! I'm just gonna assume that this will help everyone! Thank you for reading!

Yours Truly,

Lady Rian Whistledown 💋

[anogete]

Hi. Update of random shit in case anyone cares.

The scary test I was stressed over in the fall when I was posting my last fic? It was the CFP (Certified Financial Planner) exam. Yes, I passed it. The designation requires a bachelor's degree, so I had to go back to school to finish my last 10 classes. Then I had to take 7 more classes that are pre-reqs for the exam. Then I spent probably 700 hours attempting to cram everything you could think of related to personal finance (my god, there is a metric shit ton) into my head. The designation also requires 5,000 hours of experience in the planning field (which I thankfully already had). By the time I passed the test, I was no longer proud of the accomplishment, just relieved to have it behind me.

Work was intensely busy in November and December. I got little reading and no writing done.

I have a WIP featuring the Darcy/Rumlow pairing that has been languishing on my computer since 2020. To be honest, I've mosty forgotten what the conflict driving the plot was going to be. I think I was trying to tie it into the events of Wandavision. Took place after the show and had Monica Rambeau and Darcy kinda sorta working together and trying to figure out what, if anything, crossing the barrier that Wanda had thrown up did to them. Of course, Rumlow is alive and scarred and back with the good guys. And also really annoyed that his recent gunshot wound stuck him on desk duty watching the nerds complete their physicals as part of employee onboarding. Darcy doesn't want to have gym class with Rumlow, and Rumlow doesn't want to be there either but he's also kinda into the sassy brunette who tried to sweet talk him into passing her without making her run a mile. In the chapter or two I did write, the banter between Darcy and Rumlow was so fun, so I'd love to go back to it and try to move it along.

I got sucked into reading Draco/Hermione fanfic recently. Blame those damn Snow edits from the latest Hunger Games movie. Guys, I have never read those books or seen the movies, but blonde Tom Blyth is looking like the fanfic Draco of my dreams. How dare. This rabbit hole led to me deciding I needed to write a Dramione piece. It's maybe 6 pages and has gone nowhere even though I have a vague idea of the plot. My muse is struggling.

I found my old folder of all the fic I wrote in the past 20 years. There are still a couple hockey fics I haven't posted to AO3. There are also Anita Blake fics (I was a hardcore Anita/Edward girlie) and Harry Potter fics (don't cancel me but I used to write Snape/Hermione; NO student/teacher stuff though). I think I have an old Doctor Who fic featuring Nine/Rose (yes, I'm a Nine girlie). And a very old Forgotten Realms fic that paired Catti-Brie up with Jarlaxle. Look, I don't know. It was ages ago. With the exception of the hockey fics, I do not think any of these are of the same quality I've posted on AO3, but I've been toying with the idea of trying to clean them up and posting them so more of my work is archived together instead of spread over various fan sites. Does anyone have any interest at all in reading this shit? Like, at all?

I decided 2024 is going to be my book binding era. I bound isthisselfcare's Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love a couple weeks ago. I did all the typesetting with the help of some macros. Printed it, folded the signatures (the booklets that comprise the book), sewed them together with waxed linen thread, glued the text block together with some mull, and used chip board and book cloth to make the case. It feels and looks like a book, y'all! I could do a better job with lining the signatures up when punching the holes for sewing and with the measurements on the case, but overall I am pretty proud of it. If anyone is interested, I can link a nice tutorial series on TT and/or post progress pictures I took during my book binding experiment. I have to say, it's exciting to have the ability to put my fav fanfics on my physical bookshelf.

[dmercer91]

ebug’s sister, dm91

part one / part two / part three

we're gonna ignore the drastic hair change and the fact that the people in pictures 2 and 3 look absolutely nothing alike despite being twins in the au

pictures saved from pinterest !

blakefriarr_

liked by jackhughes, lhughes_06 and 4,867 others

blakefriarr_: my brother's an ubug, episode 3! birthday edition!

jj was not actually the ebug for tonight's game, he's just a huge suck and he got me devs tickets for my (our) birthday cause he LOVESSSSS MEEEEE

he was gonna get me a mercer jersey and then i apparently offended him by drawing dicks on the printed pdf of his 10 commandments

i can't not provide context for these photos, it's my brand. so buckle up.

one is me after unwrapping the gift my dad got for jj and accidentally put my name on. yes that is fire. yes this was our father telling jj to go get an actual job. yes i laughed. yes i kept it.

the next two capture jj and i's entire relationship visually, and they are me wanting to drink out of a much too heavy, glass bottle without using my hands. jj was incredibly concerned for his safety as well as the condition the floor would be in after i inevitably dropped the bottle and got glass everywhere. however, that did not happen because i am actually god himself. next.

dawson looks very displeased with whatever he is looking at (they were winning?????? the puck was in the o zone?????? hisch had the puck?????? idek. maybe he's got digestive issues)

the boys are having a pre faceoff chat. dawson is eating his gloves.

view 525 comments..

jj.friar31: i want that torch back

→ blakefriarr_: tough shit james

→ drayanewman: HIS NAME IS JAMES?!?!?!?!?

user6543456: dawson eating his gloves just like jack

→ user93456: will ny is the original sporting goods eater

dawson1417: happy birthday <3 hope you had a good night

→ blakefriarr_: this comment squished my heart like a pimple in the best way

→ dawson1417: you're welcome? 😭

→ blakefriarr_: thank you, handsome <3

→ dawson1417: i understand the pimple comment. good lord.

dawson1417: now that we're done being cute i do NOT have DIGESTIVE ISSUES???

→ blakefriarr_: it's nothing to be ashamed of, daws. just a tummy ache :(

→ dawson1417: i did not have a tummy ache i am a grown man

→ blakefriarr_: shit ur right my bad you've got functional dyspepsia

→ dawson1417: i've got WHAT

user230237: this is so chaotic

user098765: i love that everyone just goes with this

dawson1417: final comment i promise but why is your shirt half see through

→ blakefriarr_: why ISN'T your shirt half see through 🤨

→ blakefriarr_: lemme have a look

→ jj.friar31: this is why you didn't get a jersey

→ blakefriarr_: @/dawson1417 can i have a jersey

→ dawson1417: @/blakefriarr_ i will get you one from every theme night as long as they've got my number on them

→ jj.friar31: you're a TRAITOR, dawson.

njdevils: happy birthday, blake!

→ jj.friar31: happy birthday blake AND JJ. IT'S MY BIRTHDAY TOO. I'M THE EBUG!!! I'M MORE SPECIAL

→ blakefriarr_: i wouldn't say more special but you're definitely a different flavour of special

→ blakefriarr_: also technically your birthday was yesterday so stop acting like a colossal piss baby

→ jackhughes: huh

→ blakefriarr_: i REALLY did not want out of there bro i was hanging on for dear life

→ jackhughes: oh shit i thought dad had mad game

→ quinnhughes: then they wouldn't be twins ?

→ blakefriarr_: oh my god one of them has a brain cell

→ quinnhughes: glad i could be of service, congrats on being whatever age it is that you are

lhughes_06: i was gonna say happy birthday and then you said i had less braincells than quinn.

→ blakefriarr_: correction- i said quinn had one (1) braincell. therefore implying that you have none <3

lhughes_06: happy birthday jj

→ blakefriarr_: and you WONDER why i like quinn better

jackhughes: you were born on this day 🎉 jj wasn't, i guess. but happy birthday to him

jj.friar31: @/blakefriarr_ thanks for pissing off 2/3 of the hughes' i needed that

→ blakefriarr_: you're welcome it was your birthday gift

→ blakefriarr_: but just cause i'm butthurt i'll leave you with the thought that ellen would probably like me better

nicohischier: happy birthday to you and jj, thank you for calling me something normal

→ blakefriarr_: kinda weird that you don't find cap normal do you have something to share with the class

→ nicohischier: no i am 24 and i do not attend class

dougieham: i would never in a million years have thought you two were twins before your first post i actually just assumed you'd hid behind him until you got to meet us and that there was no correlation

→ blakefriarr_: is it cause i am really cool and he is just jj

→ dougieham: no.

→ dougieham: well actually sort of

→ blakefriarr_: aw thanks dougie

→ dougieham: i said sort of

ryangraves27: my head made it into this one

→ blakefriarr_: i can't tell what tone of voice this was meant to be read in

→ blakefriarr_: like are you sad?? thrilled?? terrified?? should i crop you out next time?? emote please

→ ryangraves27: i think i will not

→ blakefriarr_: this comment made me call my therapist

→ jj.friar31: thanks man she needed this

→ blakefriarr_: remember when both of the gifts had my name on them and nobody was shocked and the first one was money and things i was actually interested in and the second one was a propane torch that nobody will ever use unironically (remember which one was meant for you?)

→ jj.friar31: while ur on the phone with her can you make me an appointment too

→ blakefriarr_: she made it right before mine in case you need more time.

→ jesperbratt: you're joking about the gift thing... right?

→ blakefriarr_: they paid his college tuition

→ jj.friar31: they paid for part of your car

→ blakefriarr_: i drive an '11 civic and the check engine light has been on for a year and a half

→ jj.friar31: they pay for your apartment

→ blakefriarr_: we live together???

→ jj.friar31: that is definitely a point

view more comments..

[fdelopera]

Welcome to the 25th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper 115 yeas ago.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 10, “Au bal masqué” (“At the Masked Ball”).

This section was first printed on Monday, 1 November, 1909.

For anyone following along in David Coward's translation of the First Edition of Phantom of the Opera (either in paperback, or Kindle, or from another vendor -- the ISBN-13 is: 978-0199694570), the text starts in Chapter 10 at, “In this fashion they climbed up two floors,” and goes to Christine's line, “'Not a farce, Raoul: a tragedy!'” in Chapter 10.

Note, however, that a large part of this section in the Gaulois was cut from the First Edition. See below.

There are some differences between the Gaulois text and the First Edition. In this section, these include (highlighted in red above):

1) In the Gaulois text, this line reads:

... Christine (car c'était bien elle, il l'avait reconnue à ses yeux, il put encore la reconnaître à sa voix)

Translation:

... Christine (for it was certainly she; he had recognized her by her eyes, and he could further recognize her by her voice)*

* NOTE: The fact that Leroux states that Raoul could only see Christine's eyes helps to clarify the design of her mask, which was a black domino mask with a piece of black fabric hanging down from the bottom of the mask, covering her mouth. This piece of fabric was called a "barbe" ("beard"), similar to this historical mask below from a museum collection in Helsinki. In this scene, Christine’s black mask is meant to mirror Erik’s, whose black silk mask Leroux described as having a “barbe” that covered his mouth.

2) This section in the Gaulois text (highlighted in red above), which describes events that are discussed in the next chapter, "The Magic Envelope," was removed from the First Edition (along with "The Magic Envelope" chapter) in order to maintain the consistency of Leroux's narrative:

Translation:

He could barely hear Christine's whispered words, the young woman's breath was so light.

"There is someone in the box next to ours ... I hear him moving..."

He tried to speak, to tell her that it would be easy to go elsewhere to talk, but she silenced him with an emphatic "shush."

Hunching over, she crept up to the front of the box and risked a glance outside; this seemed to be enough to apprise her, for she returned immediately and said: "I thought I also recognized his voice... He talks to himself..."

Raoul, who was beginning to grow puzzled by Christine's behavior, asked her:

"Who is it?..."

"It is a Capuchin monk!" she said, still in a whisper... "And I am sure that the other one will arrive soon."

"What other one?" asked the Vicomte in the same tone of voice.

"The other Capuchin monk."

"If you are so afraid of being near Capuchin monks," replied Raoul, "we should go!"

But she seemed quite agitated.

"Oh! That could be highly unwise right now! It's madness!... Why did he tell me that he had a rendezvous in the Box of the Blind, which is located above?"

Suddenly, she stood bold upright:

"But then he is also going to come, himself!... Yes, yes, let's go!... Let's go!..."

She opened the door to the box and closed it almost immediately...

"Too late!..."

And visibly, she began to tremble.

"Put your mask back on, monsieur! Put it back on and do not remove it under any circumstances."

And she leaned against the door, as if to prevent him from opening it. Christine was swooning; Raoul tried to hold her up, but she pushed him away with her hand and pointed to the partition wall.

Then they heard a voice, which said:

"At last, monsieur, you are here! But do you not think it would be better to chat in your office? Here, monsieur, we must always be wary of eavesdroppers! Let us go to your office, monsieur..."**

And they heard nothing else but a door opening...

Christine let out a deep sigh. It seemed that at last she was allowed to breathe.

And she opened the door, saying:

"There is no more danger, Raoul!... But I was very afraid!..."

"Afraid of what? What has made you afraid? You must tell me, Christine!" implored the young man, who asked himself whether or not he would finally have an explanation for all of these bizarre comings and goings, all of these expressions of hope or fear. Christine did not reply. She continued to watch attentively through the gap between the door and the partition wall to see what was happening in the corridor.

Raoul watched behind her. At first, he saw two monks who looked like two friars and who were already descending the staircase leading to the second tier boxes.

The two hoods under which they were hiding were soon no more than two little shadows at the top of the steps, and then they disappeared. In the same instant, Raoul, who was following Christine's gaze, saw, on the highest step of the staircase which ascended to the tier above, a red foot place itself on the stair.

... And then, two red feet...

** NOTE: As is related in "The Magic Envelope," this was Erik's voice speaking to the Managers (who are the two figures dressed as Capuchin monks), telling them to go to the managerial office.

3) Minor differences in punctuation.

Click here to see the entire edition of Le Gaulois from 1 November, 1909. This link brings you to page 3 of the newspaper — Le Fantôme is at the bottom of the page in the feuilleton section. Click on the arrow buttons at the bottom of the screen to turn the pages of the newspaper, and click on the Zoom button at the bottom left to magnify the text.

[confusedblakex]

Soulmate AU Series: Eijiro Kirishima

Pairing: Eijiro Kirishima X Reader (GN)

Summary: The day you get your soulmark, except you didn't find your soulmate the way you expected

Wordcount: ~820

Warnings: None

Requested by: No one

Inspired by: This post by @dashielldeveron and this post by @haitani-trash

Notes: Just trying to finish off all my fic series before I start anything new

Last edited: 16th May 2023

Prologue

You woke up an hour before your alarm, giddy with excitement. Your phone was buzzing with texts and ‘happy birthday’ messages, and there was a buzz of happiness in the air.

You threw the covers off yourself and immediately stood yourself in front of your mirror. Staring at your reflection, you looked yourself over.

There was a small, printed mark on the inside of your right wrist.

34.929529, 138.377314

So what did that mean? With a sigh, you brushed it off and continued with your morning.

As you arrived at school, hoping that someone would recognise what it meant or be able to decipher it. You were early, but people wished you a happy birthday as they entered the classroom. Ashido was the first to ask about your soulmark, closely followed by your friends Jiro and Tokoyami.

You showed them the mark, pulling up your sleeve to show them your wrist.

“Some sort of code, perhaps?” Tokoyami suggested, but you stopped when you noticed something about your soulmark.

“Wait, the numbers have changed,” You said, noticing that the combination was entirely different now. This gained confused looks from your friends.

Mina grabbed your arm and dragged you across the classroom, asking various random people what they thought it meant.

“Oh! It’s some numbers!”

“Fuck off”

“Dates or times perhaps,”

“Coordinates.”

“Phone numbers?”

Hold on. Mina dragged you back to Todoroki who, with little to no emotion, simply stated once again that.

“It’s coordinates.”

“Of course! Coordinates in latitude and longitude, does anyone have a GPS?” Midoriya yelled excitedly.

To his question, Tokoyami pulled out his phone and Jiro pulled a laptop out of her school bag.

Midoriya held a compass, and Jiro poured over the laptop while Tokoyami read out the numbers on your wrist. Mina was being moral support.

The collective breath was held as the search loaded. And the screen zoomed into UA.

Mina cheered, but everyone else – including yourself – all sighed. This was good, yes, but if the coordinates change when your soulmate moves, all that means is that they are one of the many many students at UA currently.

“The coordinates are only enough for a general location, not specific rooms in the school…” Midoriya said, getting lost in his own thoughts and quiet mumbling.

“Your best bet is to wait until lunch,” Tokoyami suggested, with Jiro quickly understanding.

“Yeah, that way if the coordinates change you know that they’re someone who’s up and moving.”

So classes continued as normal, and though a little underwhelming, it was nice. Lunch always seemed to come quickly and you felt a little better sitting down with your friends, though for some reason Mina had insisted on staying near you all day.

“Can’t miss some good romance drama!” She said when you asked why.

Therefore, she had abandoned her usual friends at their lunch table. But before you could think too much about it - or even start eating - the numbers on your wrist changed.

One number changed. Then two, and then the first number again, and then once more-

“Oi Mina!”

“Where’ve you been?”

The self-proclaimed ‘Bakusquad’ - the friends that Mina had abandoned to see the ‘romance drama’.

Bakugo, Sero and Denki all walked over to the table and Mina waved at them enthusiastically. Trailing behind them was Kirishima.

The numbers on your wrist had stopped changing, so you looked up to see what the Bakusquad were doing, only to look up directly at Kirishima.

His eyes widened and he froze in seemingly amazement or disbelief. Your eyes lingered on him, and for some reason you couldn’t look away. But it made sense - neither could he.

“Kirishima?” You asked loud enough for him to hear. He was still a good few paces away from you.

Not daring to look away, he just smiled. A blinding smile, the most beautiful, brilliant smile. To the confusion of everyone there, you stood to meet him halfway and giggled a little when he stumbled over his feet in excitement.

He didn’t slow down, though, when you reached each other and instead scooped you up into a hug. A gentle, loving hug.

So it was him. Kirishima is your soulmate.

You definitely weren’t disappointed, and Mina seemed to catch on as she squealed like a small child.

“It’s you, it was you all along,” He said quietly, still beaming.

"You're so... gorgeous..." He whispered, his eyes only on you, seemingly absorbed in all the colour he could now see.

“Hey, at least take me out for coffee first,” You joked and Kirishima flushed bright red as Denki laughed.

“Ah! Of course,” He said, finally stepping back from the embrace, “But I’m glad it’s you, (y/n).”

---

Bonus:

“Seeeeeee, I told you~” Mina sang as she danced around Kirishima.

“Told me what?”

“That you’d have a great love life one day,” She said, sighing to herself, “Ugh, now I need an entire manga series of your romance together! You and (y/n) are so cuuute!”

“Minaaaaa-” Kiri grumbled, bright red.

[jacensolodjo]

Total disclosure: Because of the book Babi Yar being republished in English on 4/18/2023, while also seeing certain posts on my dash, I was inspired to make this post.

If the USSR was a free and open utopia why were books like "Babi Yar" sent through so much censorship it would have probably been better it was never published at all?

Babi Yar aka Babyn Yar, you know, the massacre of (predominantly) Jews that was the largest singular event massacre of the Holocaust?

If the USSR cared about Jews why did they cover up and refuse to even so much as put a plaque of remembrance up for DECADES after? Oh sure 25 years after Babyn Yar they put up a placeholder plaque promising a new one. BUT they would clear away all the flowers and such from the PLACEHOLDER PLAQUE whenever foreign dignitaries finished their tour of the area. How, exactly, is that okay? How could they put effort into all of that and not even give a proper plaque of remembrance? (The answer, by the way, is this was the Soviet Union's standard MO. Western writer is visiting? Quick, hire a bunch of actors to live in this totally fake Ukrainian village to PROVE there is NO FAMINE.)

At some point you have to admit someone is in the wrong and it will always be the USSR.

(Note the book Babi Yar isn't just about the massacre but also tells the story of a young man up through the 1960s, including the Kreshchatik and 1961 disaster.)

The author himself regretted he published it with so much redacted from it due entirely to USSR censorship.

I suggest everyone take a look at the new publication of the book from this year. (Translated into English new publication I should say.) ((And yes I DO think it is well timed given the attack on the Babyn Yar memorial site last year.)) I should note, that the complete unredacted version is unvarnished truth, and thus some parts are hard to read. It is told from notes written by a boy barely into his teens and this should be kept in mind if you do read the book.

Note from the author of Babi Yar:

"Those who are interested will be able to have some idea of the conditions in which books are published in the Soviet Union, because—as I must stress again—my case was not an exception; on the contrary, it was quite ordinary and typical. Again, the version of Babi Yar distorted and deformed by the censorship was printed in millions of copies and appeared in translation in many languages. People who have read it already but who would like to know the full text need only read in this book the new sections, published here for the first time; especially since they contain the main sense of the book and are the reason why it was written."

(Please note that even though the author, Kuznetsov, was Ukrainian geographically and half Ukrainian from his mother, that he was a Russian speaker and thus used the Russian spelling of Babi Yar in addition to other words. He was well within his rights to use whichever toponym he desired. There is a HUGE difference in him using the Babi Yar form and a Western English speaker using it after knowing the preferred by actual marginalized Ukrainians form. Out of respect for Mr. Kuznetsov I use the form he used in his writing when talking about the book itself. As well as any other words from the book using the Russian spelling.)

Anatoly himself was not Jewish but he grew up right by Babyn Yar. Before and after the massacre there. The massacre also, it should be noted, did not just include Jews but ethnic Ukrainians, Russians, Rromani, the disabled (mentally or otherwise), etc., and Anatoly took great pains to make sure of this fact to anyone who read the book in its full form.

One more note from Anatoly about the book's current form: "In the summer of 1969 I escaped from the USSR with photographic films, including films containing the unabridged text of Babi Yar. I am publishing it as my first book free of all political censorship, and I am asking you to consider this edition of Babi Yar as the only authentic text. It contains the text published originally, everything that was expurgated by the censors, and what I wrote after the publication, including the final stylistic polish. Finally, this is what I wrote." (and I want to note he says PHOTOGRAPHIC FILM of the book which turned out to be a 478 page paperback so this meant he RETYPED ALL ~478 PAGES and had the presence of mind to actually PHOTOGRAPH IT knowing damn well what could happen to his manuscript otherwise. He sewed all of it into his jacket as he fled for asylum.)

(I want to say, foolishly giving people the benefit of the doubt, that when a writer is called a 'Soviet writer' that they think it is somehow all of them actually being allowed to write. When in fact 'Soviet' in front of writer only refers to the time frame they were writing. Many 'Soviet' authors often only had their work published either during the 80s -- the time of glasnost-- or after the Fall but they still get the moniker of Soviet. Or, commonly, like with Anatoly their work is so butchered by censorship as to be practically a different work altogether. It takes a certain amount of courage to publish anyway though, so Anatoly's efforts along with any other author that mirrors his experience should be held in high regard.)

A regime or system of government (since people have tried to 'well actually' about the word regime) that does not allow their people to poke fun or satirize or even tell an unflattering truth with no veiling is not really a regime/system of government one should be defending and yet. When you defend the Soviet Union, you defend their total disregard for Jews, Ukrainians, etc., while at the same time pretending to care about them (The Soviet Union was a Jewish utopia, honest! So long as you ignore all the pogroms and things like the Doctors' Plot that happened post-Holocaust because gosh darnit there were still too many damn Jews in the Soviet Union! Mother Russia, FIX! While also preventing them from going to Israel where they can actually, you know, live. Instead you just whisper about thinking of going to Israel and you got fired and became a 'leech' and yada yada some people waited a decade or more to be allowed to emigrate but hey whatever. Jewish Utopia.)

I leave with one more note from the author of Babi Yar:

"Time and again I set about the task of writing an ordinary documentary novel on the basis of my notes, but without the slightest hope that it would ever be published. Apart from that, something rather strange happened to me. I had been trying to write a straightforward novel in accordance with the rules of ‘socialist realism’—the only guide to writing which I knew and which I had been taught ever since my schooldays. But the truth of real life, which cried out from every line written in my child’s notebook, immediately lost all its vividness and became trite, flat, false and finally dishonest when it was turned into ‘artistic truth’."

And an example of something that was excised by Soviet censors, denoted by brackets paired with what made it into the first editions of the book:

"[I, Anatoli Vasilevich Kuznetsov, author of this book, was born on August 18th, 1929, in the city of Kiev. My mother was Ukrainian, my father Russian. On my identity card my nationality was given as Russian.] I grew up on the outskirts of Kiev, in the Kurenyovka district, not far from a large ravine the name of which—Babi Yar—was known then only to the local people. Like the other parts of the Kurenyovka it was our playground, the place where I spent my childhood."

(I wonder, what was so repugnant about stating he was half Ukr to cause it to be removed from the book entirely?)

[tryslora]

Nate vs. the Edits

I have a ton of posts partially written, and this particular one will probably touch on some of those themes. Particularly the concept of time (and how little of it there is in a week).

So. Apologies in advance for that. I have swiss cheese brain. I might not even remember if I’m repeating myself. Maybe y’all will forgive me, or maybe not. I figure readers are happy enough to click next/close and move on. <3

The topic I’m thinking about today is how editing and drafting can be inherently antagonistic.

It’s no secret that I owe multiple books right now. I have two that need to be drafted: the next in the Seven Lakes series, so my indie publishing life doesn’t fail before it gets off the ground, and the next Welcome to PHU book, otherwise known as Nate’s book, which uh… I should’ve started drafting two years ago.

It’s also no secret that I am working with Duck Prints Press to bring out paperback editions of the PHU books, starting with the Twinned trilogy. Commit to the Kick is already in print through DPP, and the second and third books are in progress. We’ll Kickstart print editions once they are edited and ready to roll.

Editing is… hard. I mean, it’s probably hard for everyone, but it’s really hard for me because it is one of my mental breaking points. My brain assumes that when something is drafted, it’s done, and making big changes (or even small changes that have big effects) is hard for me to do. I am more than willing to admit to this fault.

It means that when my brain goes into edit mode, drafting mode goes POOF and disappears. And well, vice versa.

Over the last year, I’ve done a lot of work in learning how to edit, and I’ve gotten better at it. I did a first round edit of Into the Split to handle some large issues before DPP starts working on it. I did a big overhaul of a short story and turned it into a much better version of itself that I could submit to a market. But during that time, I couldn’t draft.

Part of that was time being a finite commodity, and part of it was that editing makes me overthink everything. And for Nate’s book in particular, there is a lot to overthink.

Nate’s book (Run Together, or RT in acronym form) is a book where it would be very easy, and possibly even a good idea, to have multiple narrators. While I had considered it briefly for Pels’s book (Not Your Guardian Angel), in the end, that one was a stronger book for being a single POV. This one I can see all the ways that having all three characters allowed to speak could make it stronger. Cass internalizes so much. And Dax… we’ve hardly gotten to see into his head at all in the PHU ‘verse so far. We know about how he handles his Talent, and that he’s a football stats vending machine. But seeing into his emotional side would be nice, especially considering the things he needs to work through during this storyline.

Every time I started working on the book, I thought about all the pieces that had been broken in ITS and needed to be fixed, and I stalled. I couldn’t wrap my head around the best way to tell the story.

I dubbed this problem “Nate vs. the Edits” in my head, which seemed like a decent title for a bout going multiple rounds in my brain with heavy fighting and damage. Like. Yikes.

Editing makes me analytical, and drafting requires me to shove my analytical parts into the background, letting the foreground take inspiration without failing under the anxiety of the details.

I have always trusted my subconscious when drafting. I have a brain like swiss cheese—I can’t hold details in my mind on purpose, but if I trust them to be there (like programming to a base case for recursion—yes, I know this makes no sense to anyone but me) the story works. I can recall things if I don’t try to recall. Trust my subconscious to fill in the blanks.

Right now, I have “outlined” the first maybe… quarter? third? of Nate’s book. I split a few of my pieces of the timeline into enough information to be able to draft three chapters. Except I feel like they aren’t quite right. The pacing is off.

I’ve lost the ability to write for the joy of writing the serial, for the joy of rolling around in drafting fic about the characters who live in my head. Or, I haven’t lost it… not completely. But I’m struggling with it, and yes, continuing to second guess myself. I’ve become my own gatekeeper, constantly concerned about whether I’m doing it right.

Ironically enough, this also affects editing. I haven’t opened the file for MF that I received a couple of weeks ago because I’m a bit afraid of what I’ll see. Like. They are edits and there are already notes in there that I just have to either agree with, reject, or find a different way to do it. Easy peasy, right?

HAH.

Instead, I’ve decided to use blog posts as my palette cleanser. I’ve spent the last half hour after work accomplishing nothing more than eating dinner and reading half a volume of manga. I know I need to write something so here I am, putting words on a page in hopes that it breaks the fiction loose.

Nate’s rattling around in here somewhere. So is Adam (for the 7Lakes book). They are ready to roll. It’s me that’s stalling.

A part of me thinks that when I’m retired, it’ll be easier. Mornings for drafting and afternoons for editing, or vice versa. Chores as palette cleansers between tasks. I hope that turns out to be true.

But for the moment, I’m squeezing in writing and editing like a teenager hiding my viewing of racy videos—hiding in a closed office for thirty minutes and praying I can get to the end before the time is up. Stealing away and closeting myself with my tablet, spewing words onto the keyboard, spilling my mind like blood from a wound.

/exhales

Yeah. I’m full of weird analogies. 

I know that there’s no secret to this. Yes, we all believe that we have a muse when we write, but we also have to put in the work. Editing is work. The paralyzation comes with the territory, and it means I’m learning. I am discovering what I’m doing wrong (and right!) and I need to internalize it.

No magic formula, just… patience. Doing it anyway. Pushing through.

If I have to edit and re-edit the first chapters of RT, it’s okay. It’s a serial, but I always try to get 4-8 chapters in before I start posting. I have time to fix things.

And somewhere, somehow, I have to do the editing for MF, too.

Two entirely different parts of my personality vying for what little time we have.

Best let them get to it, then, huh?

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[bosskie]

Molluck Model - Sculpting Phase

Yeah, I feel like I'm ready to show you this Molluck sculpt now since it's like 99.9 % done but I might still adjust some minor details; I'm just unsure about some stuff...

But yes, first, here's some comparison pictures with the older sculpt I also finished this year:

Yeah, a significant improvement, mainly thanks to learning a better sculpting technique... But that older sculpt helped me a lot here since it helped me with getting the body's basic shape right. Oh, and yes, I used heavily all the possible OWI's reference material for this... (I gotta say that I actually bought that Soulstorm Collector's Oddition edition just to get the artbook easily (but also for that Molluck print...) and I wished that it has proper reference photos for Molluck and it did! That book has helped me a lot with drawing Molluck... We literally cannot even see his fullbody in the game but all the other Gluks'... So, I really love that I can see his fullbody in the book, though yes, I can confess that I wish that it had 'the another version' too but that's why I did these sculpts! If OWI won't show the new Molluck as naked, I'll do it! Oh, yes, there do are two pictures of that naked model too but just to his shoulders. It's enough though since that model do is based on the New 'n' Tasty one and his body probably ain't altered.)

There ain't really clear (enough) references for Glukkon anatomy, at least in my opinion, so it's a lil challenge to get Molluck's anatomy right. So, I also added some own details and mixed stuff, like those hands I keep mentioning... I'm just weak for those hands, okay... He has the most beautiful hands I know. Though, the whole Gluk is the most beautiful thing I know... I could just like compliment every part of his body but I'm not gonna do it but 'tell Molluck'...

But, here's some more shots:

I coloured this sculpt just for showing it since I will probably colour him in another way later on. Frankly, I have no idea how the model is gonna turn out since I'm gonna do completely new stuff next... But I'm at least glad to have a better new Molluck model to play with! Oh, and yes, I did new eyes for him but I still need to figure out better way to create them... That glow just creates a lil challenge and therefore it can look exaggerated here too... And he has that expression just for fun!

Oh, and yes, I did promise to show some comparison stuff with human body too, so here you go:

My man and me. (Y) I'm actually surprised that Molluck ain't as tall as I imagined him to be compared to me... Oh, and I'm not even tall, just about Abe's height. (Edit: I realized that I did the scaling incorrectly first, but it's fixed now.) Maybe those height charts ain't totally accurate but this is as accurate as it can be. Molluck is 7 ft / 213.36 cm tall but as you can see, the size of his body parts is quite varied... He has huge head and hands and his arms are very tall (or long, but it's his arms that make him so tall!)... But his torso is close to human's in size but his legs are small... Frankly, it took me some time to be able to enjoy his 'sizes' since I don't really enjoy being the smaller one but his 'sizes' compensate that too. Now, I have no problem with this and I really love him being big and small at the same time! Like, man, this Gluk just makes me go crazy... The hottest thing ever... Yeah, I'm quite happy to be with Molluck and it just gets better and better!

Yeah, uh, what a sexy beast Molluck is... It feels so odd to show stuff like this but I wanna be brave and do it anyway. I know that I could have taken the colours away from the human model but I let them be since it felt too 'soulless' without colours. I bet that someone might wonder what model it is, so I can say that it's just one model I have from doing adult animations for a mod (never published or even finished)... And yeah, those colours suck due to topology stuff and the way I coloured it but it's enough for now for me. Gotta model myself one day too... I'm glad that I can at least live with Molluck in a virtual world!

Oh, and I wanna just say again that I found Molluck attractive only after I started loving him. I can see his certain ugliness but it only makes him so beautiful for me... And even I know what he has done in his life, I still love him so much. He just seems like my Gluk and the reason why I started to love him was that I saw myself in him, I could identify with him. I just don't care about his crimes and he lives in a brutal world, he barely could do anything else than follow what the Magog Cartel wants. I also mean that I don't get anything special from his crimes, unlike one person I saw on Twitter back then... (The person listed all their paraphilias related to their Molluck lust on their bio...) The main thing is just that he feel so 'me' and right for me. I have never felt the same with any other character, there has always been something that has't felt right. Molluck just feels friendly, despite of the image he has in public... I can understand him, like his anger issues, and I only just wish all the best for him... I just truly love this Gluk and that's why it feels like I just keep loving him more and more.

And kinda related to this, I must admit that sometimes, I wonder how people can have multiple fictional others or 'blorbos' or whatever you call those characters like that (I know the differences here but it's not the point.). I had recently a moment when I had two characters I was into (if you know, you know) but my relationship with Molluck only got stronger and I started to feel bad for him... (I also realized that I was 'looking for' Molluck in that other character since he was similar, so it was about Molluck after all too.) So, I can be 'like IRL' with this, meaning that like he was actually my spouse/partner (in a closed relationship). So, I just am with Molluck in my way since I just cannot have multiple fo's... My relationship with Molluck is just this strong and he feels 'alive' to me but I still know that he ain't real. So yeah, it feels like 'cheating' if I was with another character too.

Oh, and yes, I also gotta say that even his 'unsual' body proportions can be challenging, it doesn't prevent us from hugging, kissing or anything related to giving and sharing love! I just really enjoy his body, as it is. I mean, it would feel like he lost something if I drew him having 'a normal humanoid body' or how you should call that... It's just such a big part of him for me but also gives him certain adorability. I just cannot help it... I want this Gluk so badly but it also makes me learn things and get better at stuff! Like, yes, I'm doing that Molluck model mainly for my own Molluck fantasies but I also wanna use it to other stuff too.

But yeah, I know that you should start from simple stuff but I have always done what I have wanted in art, so... I'm unsure about the next steps since I have never done them but luckily there are plenty of tutorials out there and I also got some e-books for Blender stuff (that's where I learned doing eyes and that colouring for example). Yes, this is my first 3D character model thing I'm doing. I just wanna have a Molluck model this badly...

I could talk so much about Molluck... I just love this Gluk with my whole heart... 🫀 Yeah, I think that I should stop writing for now and get back to thinking Molluck (in bed since I should go to sleep now)! 💞✨

[heyymikki]

lamb to the s l a u g h t e r

LOCATION: Hotel in Las Vegas FEATURED: @giovanniiricci @elliottortegax MENTIONED: @maevemacnally, @nikodimopoulos

It was done.

The article she had been working on for months was finished and had been posted both on the Tribune's website and on the front page of the print edition.

It was strange how her feelings for the town and the people in it had significantly changed since she had agreed to Dante's ultimatum nearly three years ago. A place she had never anticipated feeling any attachment to had become home, the people in it her friends and family. Now, with it all in jeopardy, she couldn't in good conscience stand aside and let it happen without putting up a fight to make up for her part in it all. What better way to stick it to the head of the organization that had blackmailed her than to use those same connections to out him for who he really was?

And yet... she had miscalculated. What she had viewed as a mercy of not pulling her friend into it ahead of time given all she was going through turned out to be the exact opposite, blindsiding her friends with the reminder of what they had lost.

Grief reared its head in all kinds of ways, but she hadn't expected the pushback. She hadn't expected the anger from Maeve and her family when she thought she was doing something to help, keeping the names of those lives lost at the forefront of the conversation -- a reminder that they hadn't been forgotten, that there were still people searching for the answers to why they had had their lives senselessly taken from them. Now, because of her own selfish pursuit of redemption, she had hurt others and possibly ruined their friendship for good.

Every day since Niko had told her of the collapse of Los Santos -- and as a result, her ring of protection -- she waited for the businessman to retaliate. There was nothing: no refuting her claims, no spinning of some kind of PR story to explain away the evidence she had found. The silence was deafening.

Still, life moved forward. She still had to go to work, put a smile on her face like she wasn't terrified of the other shoe dropping. The weekend of the music festival quickly approached, and she tried to allow herself to enjoy the idea of letting go and forgetting her cares for even a few hours, even though the last couple of events hadn't gone well. But first, she had to meet a client.

Luna had gotten a request for an evening on the Friday of the festival weekend. Niko insisted she cancel, but she figured before she had to face the ire of those in town she'd upset, she could have the distraction of a night in Vegas. To appease him, she kept her personal phone on her with her location enabled as she made her way to the meeting place.

The opulent hotel lobby shimmered in bright white marble with accents of gold throughout. It was enough to tell her that whoever her client was had a lot of money. If she did well tonight, she wouldn't have to work for a little while. She could help Niko with the restaurant, or they could go to Greece like they had talked about. It felt so long ago already, though it had only been a few weeks realistically.

"Excuse me," she greeted the man behind the check-in counter with a smile. "I was told there would be a key waiting for Luna?"

"Ah, yes, I have that here for you." He pulled out a drawer beneath the desk and pulled a keycard from inside, double checking the room number before jotting it down onto the sleeve.

"Thank you. Is he already up there?" Receiving a nod in response, she smiled and thanked him once more before heading to the elevators, heading for one of the penthouse suites. These were her last few moments alone before she'd have to put on an act for the remainder of the evening. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath, trying to brush away the uneasy feeling settling like a weight in her chest. Just one night, then she'd be able to work on everything else later.

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open to the appropriate floor, and she searched for the appropriate room number. Usually when clients left a key at reception, they wanted things to keep things discrete, so she didn't bother to knock, using the key to let herself in.

The room was dim with only a few lamps lit around the common area, and she didn't immediately notice anyone inside. A table in the eat-in kitchen was set with two glasses of wine and two plates covered by metal domes to trap the heat inside and keep it fresh, but she caught whiffs of something earthy and sweet. "Hello?" she called. Maybe he was getting cleaned up, she thought. "Is anyone here?"

"Hello, Miss Beaumont."

Every bone in her body stiffened at his voice. She'd listened to enough interviews and campaign speeches to know the voice of Giovanni Ricci.

If only she had trusted her gut.

Giovanni casually strode from one of the side rooms, a coy smile on his lips like a cat who'd cornered its prey. She backed up towards the door but was immediately halted in her pursuit by a broad, hard chest behind her. The security guard gripped onto her arms to hold her in place as another locked the door.

"I'm so glad you could join me this evening. Please, sit." Giovanni motioned towards the seat across the table as he took his own, unbutton his suit jacket as he did so.

Mikayla was forced into the seat, though she struggled to get out of the guard's grasp. He grabbed the decanter full of red wine and poured some into each of their glasses. "You're not an easy person to get alone, you know." When she didn't respond, he continued. "I read your article, of course. It wasn't entirely accurate, but I was genuinely impressed by what you managed to uncover. I don't imagine you could have done that without help." His gaze flicked up to meet hers. "I'm curious to know who your sources were."

"I wouldn't be a decent journalist if I didn't protect the anonymity of my sources," she replied.

Giovanni chuckled. "You'd be surprised at what information even a person with integrity is willing to share when they're subjected to pain beyond imagination."

Mikki held her breath. "Is that what you're going to do to me?"

"Perhaps. It depends on you, really." He held his glass in the air, waiting for her to do the same. He raised an expectant brow, the silent tension growing every moment she delayed. Finally, she lifted her own glass and held it up, allowing him to gently tap them together. "I'm hoping it won't come to that if we can reach some kind of agreement."

"Is that all you want to know? My sources?"

"Mm, well," he started after a sip of the wine, "right now, yes, but questions beget questions and so on and so forth." He waved a dismissive hand in the air. "You know how it goes."

"No, actually. This is my first time being interrogated for information."

The other guard who had locked the door came to the table to lift the covers off the plates, revealing a filet paired with mushrooms in some sort of wine cream sauce and mixed vegetables on the side. If it had been offered by anyone else, she would have begun eating right away, but she didn't trust that none of the food had been poisoned or tampered with. That didn't stop the man from digging into his own dinner.

"It's rude not to eat," he remarked, watching her.

"It's rude to kidnap someone, too," she retorted.

"I'd hardly call it kidnapping when you came of your own volition," Giovanni chuckled again. "I suppose if you don't eat it, our other guest will."

Mikayla furrowed her brow. "Other guest?"

As if on cue, the muffled sound of a groan came from the room Giovanni had come from. Mikayla's eyes darted in that direction, her heart racing in her chest. She wouldn't put it past him to use someone in her life to get her to talk based off of everything else she'd learned about the man, but the number of people it could be had become an ever-growing list over the last few years. Who could he have grabbed without anyone else noticing?

"Ah, he's awake. Bring him here, would you?" Giovanni didn't even look up to address the guard, but the man nodded and made his way into the room, grappling with whoever was being held there.

Mikayla's eyes grew wide as a bloodied Elliott was dragged into the room and thrust into the third chair at the table. "Dad! What is he doing here? What did you do to him?!"

"I've grown tired of the traitors within my organization who believe I don't know of their disloyalty," Giovanni replied in a bored tone around the steak in his mouth. The man glanced across the table at her, face stoic. "He's been watching you and your mother for years using our resources. If only he'd done more to hide his allegiances, I might have believed he was true to the cause."

Her father was a part of The Enterprise? The news shook her to her core, but she did her best not to let Giovanni see it. The last thing he needed to know was another one of her weaknesses to use against her.

"If you tell me what I want to know, you both can walk out of here and you'll never have to worry about me again. And if you don't... Well." He smirked. "I'll be forced to get creative."

[diezmil10000]

hi 👋 you can call me diez or chisi

i am from spain and i like to draw lesbians. this is my main blog, if you're only here for my art and not for my reblogs you can follow my art-only blog!!

(FAQ under the cut)

what software and brushes do you use?

i work on ibisPaint X and Krita on a Samsung Galaxy Tab S6 Lite. i use a lot of different brushes for lineart but mostly these ones:

are your commissions open?

i will never do commissions, but thank you for your interest.

will you someday sell your art through an online shop / convention?

no, but feel free to print my stuff in good quality paper if you want to hang it on your wall.

how can i financially support you?

i have no need for that right now. please give your money to other artists or organizations.

can i repost your art / use it for edits?

i don't encourage it, but i don't mind. asking for permission and linking back to any of my social media would be appreciated too ♡ just don't use it for commercial purposes (sell merch, use as streaming layouts, etc)

how do you do X part of your drawing?

i recommend checking my speedpaints if you're curious, the name of the videos is the day i finished that drawing in YYMMDD format (as in, year-month-day). i also made a tag for my art thoughts, but if you still have a question feel free to send me an ask and i'll try my best to explain it!!

where did you learn anatomy?

i used to watch a lot of proko and sycra videos (on youtube), and also do gesture/figure drawings from photo references and k-pop dance practice videos.

when / why did you start drawing?

i started taking it seriously when i was 15. seeing lesbian fanart was what caused my gay awakening and i felt like there wasn't enough of it, so i decided to get better.

do you do traditional art?

i kind of dislike it, actually. i have filled over 1000 A4 sheets and 7 sketchbooks over the years, but it's all quick doodles to practise or warm up. when i bought a tablet i could carry around i stopped drawing traditionally as often, but i still find myself drawing in my sketchbook from time to time when i want to sketch midlessly or get better at something.

do you draw nsfw art?

very rarely, but i only show it to my friends. i do consume a lot of nsfw content tho, just not in public 👍

how do you keep yourself motivated?

a combination of drawing only what i like and a strong desire of seeing more lesbian art. that's why i mostly make fanart and almost never participate in art trades or make art gifts. i also don't want to make a career out of drawing.

have you gone to art school?

i have a college degree in graphic design, but it has almost no correlation with the kind of art i share online. before that i never studied art academically.

are you seriously a furry?

yes.

are you seriously a communist?

you call me a communist, socialist, leftist– i just want people to be happy and i heavily oppose capitalism on its fundamentals.

are you an anti or a pro shipper?

i am neither, i don't care about this.

are you aware that you follow someone who did something problematic?

i mostly follow other artists, so if i've been following someone problematic for a long time it probably isn't that deep for me to unfollow them.

do you have any ocs?

plenty! but i don't like to talk about them in public

can i be your friend / talk regularly with you?

i don't like to talk to strangers, but if i'm following you feel free to interact with me at any time~

what's the name of your cat?

yonyon ! she's a female cat but i treat her by any and all gendered terms

why have you disabled your DMs, story replies and sometimes comments?

because i dislike interacting with fandoms, especially big ones. i draw for myself and for the lesbians with niche interests, so i don't want to read weird comments, block overly friendly DMs or watch strangers have a public debate about my moral standards. i'm very thankful towards all of you who love my art tho, even if i can't read all of your positive thoughts!! also, there are plenty of ways to contact me, they're just not in plain sight 💋