Tumgik
#lately ive been feeling especially shitty
daydadahlias · 6 months
Note
WAIT WHERES MIM?!?! PLEASE TELL ME YOU’LL RELEASE THAT ONE AGAIN PLEASE
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I need you guys to understand that the reason I took down my stuff was for my own peace of mind because they're my stories and i started feeling unsafe having them out because of how they - and I - were being treated.
absolutely nothing is wrong with mim and I love that fic and I care so much about it which is why - for my peace of mind - i want it to belong to only me rn. I know the fic was only out a month after i finished it and that really upsets me about taking it down. i want to reupload it because i know people like the fic and i love sharing my stuff but also there's that level of how much the fic matters to me and how much more devastating it makes it when people are cruel. and how much it hurts when I, as the creator of something, am treated like I don't matter at all and that my stuff can so easily be stolen or copied. like, it's an extension of me, yknow? You can't separate content and creator in such a small and intimate sphere as fandom. like, you guys all use my first name when referring to me, yknow?? there's that sense of connection. and since it's such an intimate space, having that trust be betrayed or disrespected is so much more potent than if we were in a large fandom with a lot of creators.
the fear of having MiM copied is really immense and real for me rn and i know that's potentially me being overly paranoid but considering the Amount of times this has started to happen - and how blatantly rude and nasty and entitled readers have been getting with me and other creators over the last year - it's definitely not out of the realm of possibility.
MiM wasn't written for readers, it was written for me. and i shared it because i wanted to and that was wonderful. but to have any of my stuff stepped on so much just doesn't make me feel very safe in this fandom space rn and makes it hard to let people have access to something that matters so much to me.
I'm not saying MiM has been deleted forever, I'm just saying i want some more time for it to be mine.
#like i thought about not uploading scene 14 too especially bc she HAS been stolen verbatim before but.#at this point it just feels too late bc so many people have already read it#yeah i have a lot of conflicting feelings and im not saying i'll never repost mim but i just need some more time with her yknow????#like she matters a *lot* to me. and im allowed to be a little finicky with her#and this has been just so. immensely hurtful lately#like i spent most of the weekend crying my eyes out over this stuff because it's just so. hard. to consistently share things#and *have* consistently shared things for three years#and to actively *see* the change that's been occuring in this fandom where people just started treating content like it was consumable#and dispensable. and then started just *expecting* things from me and demanding fics or being pointblank rude and like...#i just dont have time for it yknow??#this stuff is supposed to be *fun*. i do it in my free time and share it with strangers for free bc i want to share the fun with others#and when people start disrespecting that. it makes it hard#like ive had so much more fun in the last week writing fic solely for myself and *not* sharing it than i have in. like. the last month#bc whenever i share fic publicly now. i know im going to have to deal with people potentially stealing it.#or not giving a shit about it and just asking when the next thing is coming. or going on twitter and ? talking about me publicly#where i cant even see it#like it's just been *so* many things lately. and it's hard when this is something i should only be doing to make me happy.#and it's been causing me sm stress instead.#and the fact that i took a week off tumblr and like. i got several pretty?? shitty asks?? that really undermined my feelings on everything.#and made it about themselves like#i dont know how to explain to you guys that we're all people and the whole point of fandom is to *share* with each other#not take.#so yeah i want to be able to share my stuff again and feel comfortable doing that but right now i just dont#and im gonna. get off my soapbox now ok <3#the biggest thing is that. people act so overly familiar with me by calling me jess in asks and comments and acting like they know me#and then somehow. they are also so mean and devaluing of me? i cant really make sense of it.#ok enough of me. talking about myself. and venting#pigeon#anon
9 notes · View notes
babblingflowers · 11 days
Note
hello i just need you to know that every couple of weeks or so i try to force everyone i know to read "you were good to me," it's just one of those fics that is burned into my brain. i haven't recovered and i am mad at you for writing it (/positive). ty.
Oh my god
This is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me
😭😭😭😭😭
6 notes · View notes
useryennefer · 10 months
Text
.
3 notes · View notes
Text
why do people care so much abt other people blocking or unfollowing them who cares
5 notes · View notes
rohan-defender · 2 years
Text
goooood evening insomnia is a bitch!
#arra speaks#augh but real talk i cannot sleep bc of insomnia#im also stressed#im sure ill figure it out somehow i hope#augh ive wanted to post more#but working. yeah. im liking it but. its still work lawl#i need to post more honestly i am thinking abt jojos so much nd have no one to bother abt it#i technically can bother my step brother but. rn its awkward between us bc hes just. good lord. hes got some issues#We were raised differently which makes sense but! Im honestly not used to how he lives so recklessly!!!#he dont plan shit. he takes his time whenever he needs to be back by a certain time too. ive almost been late to work. bc of him#and his girlfriend is just. an overall really shitty person. and has always been generally an awful friend to me bc we were friends#but AUGH yeah. i cannot stand her now. especially for disrespecting my grief over my step dad......#but augh it makes talking to my step brother weird bc hes willingly put my family in a sucky situation#ill admit it im pissed off because ive never EVER had a sibling do me like that. my own brother wouldnt even do me like that!#eugh. as is I feel frustrated at my step brother because he hasnt really made much of an attempt to get to know my brother aiden#which irritates me bc I love aiden so much and literally idk where id be w/out that dude. that and hes much more considerate of my feelings#but its frustrating!!! we are so similar and in sync sometimes and i miss having aiden around so it kinda sucks when. my step brother dips#like i get it on one hand but AUGH. hes so irritating sometimes. if we were related by blood i wouldnt hesitate to throw hands#but we arent so i wont. and technically i couid fight my brother but. i wouldnt bc we simply get along that well GDHSMJSMSJSN#that and. ok. so as some of u know aiden has autism nd my parents have both said they think theyre undiagnosed.#starting to think im also undiagnosed too. bc looking back i think thats why eventually me n aiden just. one day had a bond so strong.#i used to be so mean as a kid 😭😭😭 but then i got older and then i was like. absolutely love that guy! however ppl would always be like#ayo your brother is so weird. and id b like and ur being a rude bitch. that and >:( ppl bullied both of us for being weirdos yknow?#so id stick up for my brother yknow bc its one thing insulting me but insult him and its going to get ugly between us!#that and. well. we were raised differently bc my brother has autism and i think it ended up benefitting both of us kids bc my parents#simply had to do things differently. and hey if this works for both kids at the same time then it works yknow?#but I think thats also why i have so many issues w/my step brother bc im very used to routine and structure.#that and. like i said my parents before they split both talked abt thinking theyre undiagnosed so. naturally things were just different.#and my step brother hasnt ever really been around anyone w/asd so he lives a drastically different lifestyle from the one im used to#foaming at the mouth. crying a tiny bit. wailing even. man. i just miss aiden ok and he plans stuff and he gets me. we both need structure
2 notes · View notes
wabblebees · 2 years
Text
.
#ok while i think the resurgence of kungpowpenis is usually pretty damn funny + i love it in theory#its also been popularizing/spreading a lot of fucked shit that i dont WANT to see the main post for.#like i was already having a bad brain moment so. seeing transphobic bullshit ((especially in this case targeting nonbinary people like me))#was. Really Fucking Not what i needed!#idk. it just. im so fucking tired. ive blocked tags ive blocked blogs ive unfollowed and done shit to ~curate my experience~ etcetcetc#but i still wanna explore and poke around and find new interesting things and learn new povs and like! add enrichment to my enclosure! yk?#idk. ig this is just me complaining again#people are shitty and i get that! ive known that! im just. really fucking tired of the reminder ig#theres been. so many of those lately#''lately'' i say. as though its still semi-new... idk. hhhh.#i miss my people. not just bc they Arent Shitty but bc they help me put into perspective that people in general arent all shitty and are#often!! good!! and kind and loving and fun and and and#and i need that reminder... much more often than i like letting on#id like a bubble to hide in for a little while#one big enough to fit all of us in#and one that would keep us all safe#bc. fuck.#for now ill settle for just. keeping the brainrot at bay#holding onto the whole ''these feelings arent peer-reviewed'' ''its long after 9pm'' thing and its helping some! but sleep would probably#be more helpful but uh. also dont trust thAt at the moment lmao so. i think imma switch from doomscrolling + brainrot-posting to#playing stardew valley + listening to different music until im so tired i at least Probably wont have dreams lmao#bee speaks
2 notes · View notes
gaystardykeco · 9 months
Text
anyway maybe ill scriptpost more in the future im just scared ill be like "omg cant believe they cut this line :/" and then everyone will reply saying "they didnt??? thats literally in the show???" and ill be exposed for not having an encyclopedic enough knowledge of succession
0 notes
goodbyemitchel · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
♡ SHE HEAVEN SENT, SHE CAME FROM A PLACE FAR AWAY
Tumblr media Tumblr media
— sypnosis: moments when tokyo revengers men know they're in love — ft. sano manjiro, ryuuguji ken, mitsuya takashi, haitani ran (no timeskip) — cw: gn!reader + very fluffy + sfw (kissing, not rlly suggestive), slight angst, pet names (baby, princess) also slightly emo mikey
— a/n: late, but happy 55 followers!! thank you so much, and im sorry i know its been a while since i last wrote but ive had writers block and no idea for writing prompts so excuse my shitty writing lmaoo
Tumblr media
when MANJIRO wakes up every day, you're always doing his hair sitting all pretty in his lap. "geez, baby, you're this old and you still need me to do your hair everyday," you sigh dramatically, all the while combing through his dyed locks with his arms lazily wrapped around you. he only hums sleepily under you, eyes daring to fall back asleep any moment. he knows you'd never actually stop doing it anyway. your hands cup his face gently, as if you were holding a fragile porcelain doll, threatening to break if grabbed rashly. in a way, they were similar. looking back up at you, startled by the sudden soft touch, he sees that you're smiling at him. "what?" he mumbles lazily. "you're just... really pretty, manjiro." yet mikey can say nothing but look at you. and even with eyes half-open, he can see without a doubt, that you're stunning. i'm nothing compared to you, he wants to say, but all he can do is look at you with soulless yet ever so gentle eyes. but you understand everything they try to say. trailing tender kisses from your collarbone to the hollow of your neck, and finally leaning close so that your noses touch, that his lips brush yours. and he whispers so that only you can hear, "stay, please." it's the smallest things for MITSUYA TAKASHI. takashi loves the way you talk about your favorite things, going on and on about something he could care less about until he met you. but he's captivated by the glint in your eyes; he's captivated by the way your lips split into this adorable smile when he asks anything about you, when your hands are flailing around wildly, trying to describe one of your many favorite scenes in your favorite show or telling mana and luna some funny, bizarre story made-up on the spot while laughing. listening to your voice seems to make the tension in his body slowly drain especially after a long fight, a small smile subconsciously crawling onto his face even when you aren't talking to him. if it's to make you happy, he would gladly do anything for you. he's captivated by the way you get so excited over something so small, and although he can't understand a word you're saying at the moment, he can't keep his eyes off you.
for RYUGUJI KEN, a pretty big guy by the way, the feeling of when you're caged in between his arms is truly bliss, especially at night when you're in bed. ken is the type to seem uninterested but honestly is the biggest sweetie ever and just isn't the greatest at being vocal. sometimes he wakes up late at night from the feeling of your breath on his neck and can do nothing but sigh in exasperation; he brought this upon himself after all. when his eyes are fully open, having given up trying to fall asleep, he looks down at you, you lying next to him peacefully; he can feel your heartbeat if he listens hard enough. and this heartbeat belongs to him somehow... he places a large hand behind your head, slightly pushing you into him gently while wrapping his other arm around you securely. at last, he presses a small kiss on your forehead "'night, baby." good for you. you've got "the" HAITANI RAN wrapped around your little finger! ran is used to women throwing themselves all over him but since he met you, it's been the complete opposite <3 to everyone else he knows, he can lie easily anytime of the day as someone who used to rule over an entire district. but to you, he's crystal clear. it's just physically impossible for him- he just can't lie to you and he has no idea what's wrong with him! yet at the same time he can't get enough of you... the feeling of chasing after someone is foreign to him, and he's completely in denial of himself. he's gotta be the biggest tease ever and loves making fun of you, he knows exactly what to say until he feels that guilty pang in his chest when you look up at him with teary eyes and pouty lips. "aw, i'm sorry princess, you know i'm just kidding, yeah?" all the while nudging your cheek with an irritatingly smug smile on his face. it isn't until he takes a good look at you, in your innocence and in your presence that he just thinks to himself, you're beautiful even when you cry. God, what is going on with him?
Tumblr media
© GOODBYEMITCHEL 2023. do not steal, repost or edit my work on any platforms.
3K notes · View notes
silentsneezes · 7 months
Text
ive recently become obsessed with g/ood/ o/mens (especially c/rowley) so here’s a little 2.2k cold fic i wrote!
if anyone is interested in exchanging snzcanons/writing prompts lmk! also my inbox is open if anyone has requests :)
with that said, enjoy! (sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors- i only proofread this once)
Crowley had been having a truly awful day; First, he’d woken up with a splitting headache and a throat like sandpaper.
Then, much to his disapproval, he realized that his newest plant had attracted fruit flies.
After spending a good ten minutes swatting at various flies, he gave up, huffing in resignation and making a mental note to buy fly traps. His throat burned too badly for him to yell at the plant, but he assured it that there would be a punishment.
Eventually, Crowley took to sitting at his desk and glaring at the flies buzzing around, slamming a book on any fly that dared to land on his desk.
And - most annoyingly - Crowley kept sneezing. At first, the demon didn’t mind. A few sneezes here and there weren’t uncommon, but it proved to be more than just a few.
As Crowley was snuffling into his sleeve, the black phone on his desk rang harshly. The demon sniffed deeply and cleared his throat, ignoring the painful burning sensation, “Hello?” he drawled, interally cursing the obvious congestion in his voice.
“Hello dear,” Aziraphale’s voice sounded through the phone, and Crowley grinned; he would always be happy to hear from the angel, regardless of how shitty he might feel, “I was wondering if I could ask for a favor,” he explained, sounding sheepish.
Crowley’s surprise was evident as he replied, but his response was genuine nonetheless, “Of course, always.”
As Crowley answered, he felt a faint burning sensation form in the back of his sinuses. He pressed a finger against his septum, hoping to quell the itch.
“Well you see,” Aziraphale started explaining his predicament- something to do with the way his books were arranged- as the burning sensation moved towards the front of Crowley’s nose, making his nostrils quiver with anticipation.
The demon quickly pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger to squash a sneeze into complete silence, cringing as his vision blurred momentarily. He released his nose, sniffing experimentally and feeling relieved that the single stifle was enough to quell the itch.
“-So I was wondering if you’d like to come to the shop and lend a hand?,” Aziraphale proposed, “I just got the loveliest merlot!”
“Well, I can’t say no to a nice bottle of wine, can I?” Crowley replied, but both he and Aziraphale knew he’d go regardless of whether or not there was wine; as long as his angel was there.
“Splendid!”
Crowley could practically hear Aziraphale’s smile through the phone, “I’ll be there at seven,” he said before fumbling to hang up the phone. He pitched to the side, a sneeze suddenly tearing through him.
“hh’HRRTDSCH!”
He scowled at the spray that landed on his lap, unable to cover in time, “Fugk me,” he groaned.
Crowley glanced at his watch: 5:42. ‘How is it already that late?’ he thought, wondering how many hours he’d spent sitting at his desk in a feverish haze.
He knew that he should start getting ready, but his body seemed to have other ideas. The demon was suddenly all too aware of the way his legs and feet throbbed, even as he sat; his body ached, his nose felt raw, and his head felt like it could explode at any moment.
He groaned, leaning his head against the cool, sleek desk and letting his eyes fall shut. It took everything in him to get up and saunter over to the bathroom.
“hh-,” Crowley’s breath started hitching as he peeled off his shirt, tossing it to the side and tugging off his pants. As he was taking off his boxers, he pitched forwards with a small onslaught of sneezes, “hH’ITSCHH! heHSZCHEW! heh- hh… HRRSCHHh!”
The sneezes left him panting, bent over at the waist with one hand placed on a nearby wall for support. He clambered into the shower, turning it as hot as possible and letting the water run over his face.
The demon rubbed harshly at his nose, which was already red and raw. Much to his dismay, the appendage twitched, nostrils flaring as the itch returned with a vengeance .
“Fu-heh-fuck…hhheH-EHTSHCIEW!”
He cringed at the mess that sprayed against his chest, blowing his nose productively as the steam loosened the congestion in his sinuses.
Luckily, Crowley managed to make it through the rest of the shower without sneezing- which was quite the accomplishment: his colds have always been accompanied with relentless sneezing.
As soon as Crowley stepped out of the shower, he started shivering. He scowled, pulling on a turtleneck and some black pants; he had decided against wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, despite his desire to feel comfortable.
He glanced at his watch again: 6:19
He was in the shower for longer than he’d realized, enjoying the burning heat of the water. Unfortunately, it hadn’t occurred to him that standing in a hot shower for half an hour would only make his fever worse.
He slumped into his seat, rubbing at his temples and removing his glasses. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby mirror and cringed. He was visibly sick, and he was sure Aziraphale would notice. He considered calling the angel and canceling, but that wasn’t truly what he wanted (what he wanted, of course, was his angel).
“heh-hh,” Crowley’s breath hitched wildly as the itch suddenly returned, head rearing back and nostrils flaring, “hhhehHITSCHHh!” He snapped forwards with a powerful, unrestrained sneeze, barely managing to cover in time, “fugk me.”
After tending to his nose and washing his hands, he grabbed the keys to the Bentley.
The drive to the bookstore went by in a feverish haze. It was rather uneventful, except for the few times when the car was jerked into the other lane as Crowley bent double with a sneeze (or two).
It didn’t take long for Crowley to pull up in front of the bookshop, parking in his usual spot and clambering out. His head spun as he stepped out of the Bentley, and he had to lean against its black frame to stay upright.
Once he was sure he could stand on his own, he sauntered towards the bookshop, pushing the door open and hearing the familiar bell ring. He frowned when he realized he couldn’t smell; he’d always loved the smell of the store, though he would never admit that.
“I’m afraid we’re closed this evening,” Aziraphale called out in response to the bell’s chiming.
“Well, that’s a shame,” Crowley made a beeline for the plush red chair in the back of the bookstore.
“Oh! Crowley,” Aziraphale replied fondly, emerging from behind a bookshelf and grinning jovially. His smile faltered as he took in the demon’s appearance: his nose was red and bothered, his cheeks flushed, and his eyebags more prominent than usual.
As Crowley took a seat, Aziraphale busied himself with the tea kettle- Crowley was clearly in no condition for wine.
“So, what am I helping with?” Crowley asked, his voice raw and gravely.
‘Oh right, the favor,’ Aziraphale thought; He’d completely forgotten about his book organizing crisis after realizing Crowley was sick.
“It’s nothing, really. Muriel just had some free time and decided to reorganize all the books by color coordination,” despite Aziraphale’s annoyance, he still spoke of Muriel fondly; after all, they were intending to help.
Crowley laughed, which sparked a rough coughing fit, caught in his elbow, “S’cuse me,” he cleared his throat, feeling Aziraphale’s eyes observing him closely.
“Are you feeling alright, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked hesitantly, not wanting to anger or embarass the demon. In fact, he wanted to do quite the opposite; it was taking every ounce of self control not to wrap Crowley in a blanket and tend to his every need.
But that wasn’t part of their arrangement. They were simply an angel and a demon, occasionally exchanging favors and enjoying fine dining at the ritz. Except their arrangement had changed. Their dinners often turned into late nights full of dancing, talking, and laughing. They both sensed the change, but neither mentioned it, not wanting to burst their perfect bubble.
“Never felt better,” Crowley replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. His statement was undermined as he sniffled wetly, his body determined to betray him.
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow questioningly, to which Crowley shrugged. The angel sighed, deciding not to push the topic any further.
“So, are we rearranging or not?” Crowley asked, gesturing to the color coordinated bookshelves- which, admittedly, looked pretty nice.
Aziraphale hesitated. As badly as he wanted to reorganize his books, it was clear that Crowley was in no condition, “No, no I don’t think so. I wouldn’t want to undo Muriel’s hard work,” he excused.
Crowley was too distracted by a blooming itch in his nose to notice the angel’s obvious excuse, “hh,” despite his best efforts to quell the itch, his breath started hitching. Aziraphale nearly cooed, but he restrained himself for Crowley’s sake.
“hUTSCHHhew! hh-H’GNZTCH!”
“Bless you,” Aziraphale blessed him out of habit, a seemingly harmless act.
Crowley cursed, ducking back into his elbow, “hKISCHHh! ITSSCHHew!”
“Oh dear, bl-,” Aziraphale started, but Crowley cut him off, speaking through a desperate hitching breath.
“St-heh-stopheh- hhHTSCHH stop it with the blessings,” Crowley snapped, followed by an immediate pang of guilt at Aziraphale’s expression.
“I’m so sorry! I completely forgot about that,” he paused, searching for the right word, “peculiarity of yours.”
He learned early on in their relationship that blessing Crowley simply resulted in more sneezing, but blessing people came so naturally to him, he often did it without thinking.
“It’s alright angel,” Crowley waved a dismissive hand.
“Are you quite sure you’re feeling-,” Aziraphale started, but he was interrupted by the wailing of the tea kettle. Crowley was grateful for the distraction. As Aziraphale turned away to make tea, he used his sleeve to tend to his running nose.
Aziraphale returned a minute later with two cups of tea, smiling warmly as he set one beside Crowley.
“I thought you had a bottle of merlot?” Crowley asked, but he honestly didn’t care: wine would likely make him feel worse.
“Yes, well. We can enjoy that another time,” Aziraphale replied fondly, “But I’m in the mood for tea.”
Crowley rolled his eyes beneath his shades, but he tried the tea nonetheless. It soothed his throat, and he took a second sip, feeling his body relax slightly as the discomfort in his throat lessened.
As he continued drinking his tea, Crowley began to realize how truly miserable he felt; he hadn’t had a cold this bad in ages.
He rushed to set down his tea as a prickling sensation formed in the back of his nose. Aziraphale, noticing his hitching breath, placed a comforting hand on his back. Initially, Crowley tensed under the touch, a low hiss escaping him.
“h’MPDzXt” The stifle grated against his sore throat, and did nothing to please the burning in his sinuses.
Aziraphale rubbed small patterns along Crowley’s back, admiring his somewhat toned physique as his breath continued hitching, “don’t hold them in darling,” he instructed, voice soft.
Crowley whined, rubbing harshly at the itchy appendage. Aziraphale sighed sympathetically, “it’s not going to help if you do it like that.”
“St-heh-stuck,” Crowley managed to say between hitching breaths. It was quite the spectacle: his mouth was ajar, eyebrows knit together, breath hitching, and nose twitching. As sympathetic as Aziraphale was, he also found himself rather attracted to the demon, who seemed entirely helpless as he succumbed to the fit.
“hH-IDZCHUw!-ITSXHHh!”
The double came quickly, bending the demon over into cupped hands.
“heh-hRRSCHHU!”
Crowley was left panting and snuffling into cupped hands, unsure if the fit was truly over.
“You poor thing,” Aziraphale scooted closer to Crowley, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and tucking it into Crowley’s grasp. One of the angel’s hands settled on Crowley’s thigh, an expression of comfort for the sickly demon.
Crowley accepted the handkerchief, cleaning himself up before resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder.
“Why don’t you stay here tonight,” Aziraphale prompted, “I can take care of you.”
Crowley hesitated, his instincts told him to go: a demon shouldn’t need to be taken care of. Aziraphale sensed this and quickly corrected, “plus, I could use the company. It would be a favor to me, really.”
Crowley considered this, knowing Aziraphale was just being courteous. After a few seconds, he sighed, “Alright, you win angel. I’ll stay.”
Aziraphale smiled widely, “Splendid. I’ll get us some more tea,” he made to stand, but Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel’s waist, holding him in place.
Aziraphale blushed, “Uhm, Crowley. Would you mind-.”
The demon cuts him off, voice tired and gravely, “Yes, I would.” He tightens his grip around the angel, burying his face in Aziraphale’s neck and letting the fatigue he’d been fighting set in.
“Okay darling,” Aziraphale agreed, settling in and running his fingers through Crowley’s hair.
It didn’t take long for the demon to fall asleep, and eventually, Aziraphale found himself dozing off as well. They stayed curled up on the couch all evening, the angel watching over his sick ‘friend’ carefully.
that’s all for now! i’ll likely write more for the in/effable h/usbands (im more comfortable writing c/rowley as the snzer, but if anyone has prompts with a/ziraphale, i’d be happy to try)
73 notes · View notes
carlyraejepsans · 10 months
Note
So I'm about to ask something that might be personal ? And it deals with some personal baggage that you as someone on the internet might not be interested in hearing about ^^' so you might not want to talk about it as is your right obv !! So uh feel free to tell me to fuck off, but, how did you know you weren't cis?
Ya see, I've been questioning my gender for a while now, and I can't really come up with an answer. I'm a lesbian, that's a pretty big part of my identity, I'm not overly feminine but not masc either, when people refer to me as female I feel super uncomfortable, but I ain't too bothered by some of my body parts, ive daydreamed about switching to they/them pronouns online or masculine pronouns in my native language.... But all of that wouldn't fit with what people might expect of me ? And I'm scared if I actually went through those changes people might think I'm performing a form of queerness I shouldn't be privy to. And the worst part about this is, most of my friends are queer, non binary, trans... Wouldn't they think I'm trying to copy them ? Even though ive had those thoughts long before we met ?
Kinda feel like I'm stuck, and I don't know how to be myself, because myself might not align with how i act or how i seem to be on the outside. idk if you feel the same, but it's especially shitty living in a country with a heavily gendered language you can't escape adjectives forever lmaooo
listen to me. i am holding your face in my hands. nothing and i mean nothing you decide in regards to your gender and/or sexuality will ever be anyone's business but your own. the idea that you can "appropriate" someone else's experience with queerness is a gross bastardization of the discussion on CULTURAL appropriation, which is a false analogy and can devolve into gender essentialism fast.
you have no idea how many trans people (gay people too, but especially trans people) locked themselves in the closet because of that same feeling. of "not beeing privy to those experiences", especially for trans women. i promise, as long as you stop at establishing what a certain label means TO YOU and don't try to decide what it means for other people, then you will never hurt anyone. anyone who says otherwise is a cop.
there are trans men out there who lived as cis lesbians for a very long time, and because that was such a big part of their life, they still think of themselves as such, at least in part. for some it's out of kinship. for some it's out of genuine attachment to the word. same thing with gay men who grew on to become trans women. and trans people in general who still carry their younger selves right by their heart. genderqueers who ended up being cis after all, but who still feel like that period of exploration was crucial in shaping their identity. butch and femme alone, while particularly dear as lesbian identities, encompass all genders and sexualities. wanna know something funny? i throw terms around a lot in english, but if you asked me in italian what my gender identity is, i would say "bisexual". because almost every person in my life who's ever called me bisexual actually meant "nonbinary", or "whatever weird thing those transgendereds got going on lately" (some of them probably meant intersex as well, which just for the record i am not. as far as i know, at least). is it an outdated definition? sure. but unlike the literal italian word for nonbinary, bisexual is actually a neutral noun lol. and after all, my experience with gender does inform my sexuality, just as my sexuality informs my experience with gender. it's not wrong, technically. but if someone somehow assumes I'm a lesbian (which happens a lot lol) i don't usually correct them i just... go with it too, y'know?
anyway, what it sounds like to me is that you're obviously going through a period of questioning your gender and or presentation, which you took notice of, but you also feel some kind of peer pressure or societal expectation from other queer people that is denying you a safe, healthy form of self expression in this new period of your life that you obviously wish for yourself. please, try not to pay it too much mind. try out whatever label or description calls to you. change it without notice if you find something better. and if anyone gives you trouble for it, eat them. good luck buddy.
75 notes · View notes
alienfuckeronmain · 1 year
Note
I understand if you don't wanna talk about this on ur blog but I would loooooove to know what you mean when you say bad tattooers (not in a shadey way just like I like hearing the different perspectives artists have especially now that yeah, a lot of ppl that work in shops and make big money and travel started with an amazon pen and haven't really upgraded since, and the on trend style atm is like scratchy prison tat. & You have a very well thought out perspective on things that I don't typically hear)
Oh I'm happy to talk about it! Ive actually been like, really struggling with my career lately because I feel like the face of tattooing has changed so much since I started eight years ago and there's so little honor and respect for the craft and soooo many egos I barely know what to do about it, so a place to vent is nice.
When I say bad tattooer, I could mean like five different types of things, there's just so MANY times of bad out there.
You nailed one: young tattooers with lots of IG followers who have been tattooing for about a year and do some variation of "ignorant style" or "blackwork" using a pen style machine. It's crazy how many of these people post tattoos that was legitimately just NOT IN the skin, and they haven't even been tattooing long enough to know what their own healed work looks like! Like that shits not gonna last two years down the line, five years down the line, let alone 20 years.
They're dishonestly (or ignorantly) tattooing design after design on people who will have to get them covered up in a few years. I resent the pens so much--they require VERY little skill or finesse to use, and their lines LOOK solid but experienced tattooers can tell they're not. Originally these tools were used for permanent make up, which is not actually permanent at all, and it shows! it reminds me of when rotary machines first got popular, and a whole bunch of blackworkers started using them to line because they're lighter weight than coils. But then five years later, all those tattoos fell out. I had a whole year of my career where my bread and butter was fixing shitty rotary tattoos from other artists up, and I know that's about to happen with the stupid pens.
Tattoo technique aside many of these kids can't draw, or can draw but cannot identify what sort of drawing will make a good tattoo. I see so many beautiful tattoos that will age terribly because it's not a drawing/design that's meant to account for the aging process. This whole camp is myopic, impulsive, and has little regard for the history of tattooing or the ways in which the craft is different from other art forms. They're just like "I can draw, I have a pen, I can be a tattooer!" and they launch right into the image building/social media element because that's where their real talents lie.
There's also a type of tattooer I hate on the other end of the spectrum, old guys who have owned their shop for twenty years and feel they're gods, but whose eyesight and technique is deteriorating so their work looks like garbage now, but they're still operating as if they're really good and wielding their experience like a badge of honor. They usually do American traditional primarily but claim they're versatile and can do anything, because back when they apprenticed (in the late 80s lmao) they learned a bunch of stuff and think they're still the shit and can do it.
Similarly, there's this other type of dude bro artist who got really popular doing soft grey realism, and as a result of many years of doing this style, which is all shading, CANNOT get a line in. Someone comes in needing a tattoo with a hard firm line, and they either blow it out and chew up/scar the skin pressing too hard (how 75% of male tattooers tattoo anyway, imo) or its all wobbly and inconsistent because they're so out of practice with true lines they've literally forgot. These guys are usually psycho egotistical too, or downright predators. You'd be surprised how many well known tattooers are also well known abusers with the community who are protected by their status and power. It's an ugly, ugly, unregulated industry that draws sadists and narcissists, unfortunately.
Lastly, tattooing is a craft but its also a customer service job. You have to respect people's wishes, respect their bodily autonomy, account for their pain tolerance, and have open conversations with them about what they want/where they want it, etc. People in BOTH of these camps I mentioned are losing this part of it, and it's become about the tattoo itself rather than than the client. I see SO few TRULY trauma informed or client informed tattooers these days.
The first type of tattooer I mentioned is especially insidious about this because to grow their following they know how to talk the social justice/woke talk and will totally claim on IG to be client focused, trauma informed, body positive. In their bios its always like "QUEER tattooer! BLM! rainbow emogi!" but only a small fraction of tattooers who advertise this way can deliver. Many of them are white and have no experience tattooing darker skin, and many of them view people as canvasses, not as real people, just token "types" to prove how inclusive they are, but with no respect for what it actually entails to be truly inclusive. (For example I have a 2k dollar hydrolic heated table for my disabled and larger bodied clients. How many times have I seen a "body positive!!" tattooer have nothing but an uncomfortable, fragile $60 massage table from amazon?? I have four different types of expensive numbing options for my clients--how many times do I see "trauma informed" tattooers not even offer numbing at all, or shame the client for asking for it? Too many times!!! )
The second camp has always been dismissive of clientele, they do what they want how they want it and fully ignore client wishes or requests, especially those of women. They barely even talk to their clients unless they deem them worthy (heavily tattooed guy who lives in the shop, basically). This is part of the old school tattoo culture, so it really upsets me how many of the newer artists who claim they're resisting or offering an alternative to this culture of dehumanization just do the same thing--but while CLAIMING they're doing the opposite. One of the most horrific cases of recurring client abuse in the queer tattoo community was able to go on so long BECAUSE this tattooer knew exactly how to wield the language of social justice and inclusion in order to hide pathological sadistic behavior.
This all sucks for me, because I can't really find a place where my feelings about tattoos are honored. Much of what I do is old-school --I'm a black work artist but my designs are informed by american traditional style (to ensure longevity because I actually care about that), and I use coil machines only. It's hard for me to find spaces that aren't oldschool traddy shops owned by men who even HAVE set ups for coil machines, or have light tables, or tracing paper. Like I guested at a shop recently that was sooo beautiful and instagrammable but it was completely nonfunctional for me because no one at this shop had ever used a coil machine and they didn't seem to understand that I needed to like PLUG INTO THE WALL and didn't have a little portable electronic pen. Furthermore none of them drew, they all did EVERYTHING digitally. The oldest artist, the owner, was a rich 22 year old, and despite their best attempts to help me feel at home, the shop was just NOT set up for an artist who isn't in this young, streamlined, digital camp. This means I have to work sometimes in unsafe shops with asshole men just to be able to be around people who do the same craft as me, even remotely. There's such a massive divide between how tattooing used to be and how tattooing is now, and its depressing because both extremes are unsustainable and, imo, dishonest.
I have a private studio and work limited hours now, because the industry is so shitty. I just trained two apprentices who graduated and are working at separate shops, and its absolutely insane to hear them report back on the culture of these shops and the absolute bonkers shit they see and hear. Sometimes I think the world of tattooing is just so unrecognizable from what it was when I began that there's no room for me anymore, but I also think my services as an artist who does 1. good work with good tried and true machines 2. is actually trauma informed and client centered is REALLY rare these days so I should stick to it. But man its depressing.
111 notes · View notes
munch-o-rama · 3 months
Text
Gonna Eat You Alive // pred!K.rupp & prey!P.rofessor P.oopyp.ants
contents/tropes: open-ended story, size difference, fandom vore, fearplay, unwilling prey, m/m vore
word count: 1316
HI i feel so nervous posting this because this is my second ever fic ive posted here but i hope you enjoy!! ^_^
Tumblr media
“So, Mr. .. ‘P’, what do you think has brought you to my office this fine evening?” K.rupp said, setting the folder down and eyeing the stout man from behind his desk. The atmosphere was both boring and tense, the principal looking at the science teacher with a strange glare in his eyes. It was like waiting in a dental office as a kid, the waiting room dull as you waited for the awaited for one of the most terrifying moments of your childhood. It was especially worrying with how friendly K.rupp was during the interview. But again, that was an interview, he had to be friendly.
“I’m not exactly sure, actually.” Professor P replied, fidgeting his fingers. The professor expected it to be about G.eorge and H.arold, but that sort of meeting would usually occur while the children were at school, so action against the two boys could be done more quickly. So for this to be right on a Friday, especially during after-school hours, was rather strange and alien to the man.
“Is it about those two boys, G.eorge and H.arold? I know you’re rather.. Cranky.. With them.” He continued, raising an eyebrow at the taller man, before he could yet respond. 
“Not at all,” K.rupp replied, setting his elbows on the dark brown desk and clasping his hands together, his usual shit-eating grin forming on his face. “In fact, this is about you, Mr. P.” 
“What do you mean? I thought I’ve been the best teacher these miserable little brats have had so far!” 
“That’s what I mean. You’re the best, not the worst teacher they’ve had.” The bald man with the shitty toupe said in a weird, growly tone.
Professor P.oopyp.ants blinked for a moment.
“But-” He was cut off by K.rupp rudely interrupting him. 
“No ‘but’s, we need to take care of this now.” He stood up, towering over the small man, his smile wider. The sudden movement caused the other to cower in his seat, arms raising almost instinctively. 
“What do you mean, ‘take care of this now’? Are you gonna fire me, or-”
 “Oh, professor, you really seem to be quite the, uh.. Pressisist?”
“..Pessimist?” 
“Shut up, I don’t need you correcting me! Anywho..” The other man licked his teeth as he looked at him, causing Pippy to have a sinking feeling in his gut as he finally realized why he was looking at him like.. that. Oh shit, he knew where this was going.
“Wait, you’re not going to..” He got out of his seat, backing up away from K.rupp.
“Oh yes I am.” He said, his footsteps loud on the cold, hard tiles of the office as he stepped out from behind the desk.
He had to get away before K.rupp could get him
Immediately, Professor P.oopyp.ants tried running towards the door, but tripped on K.rupp’s foot (Which he just stuck out in front of him suddenly), giving the principal enough time to press a big red button on his desk. Fuck, he forgot about the automatic door closer. The metal ‘armor’ whooshed down in front of the regular wooden door, and as the rest of the parts whirred and clicked together and the bright red light shined from where the window of the door was meant to be, Professor P.oopyp.ants knew it was too late.
Professor P. was trapped between the door and K.rupp, and even if he went to the left, which wasn’t blocked, K.rupp could just go after him and get him. He was just stuck sitting with his knees up and his back to the wall. This shouldn’t be happening, he was an accomplished scientist and inventor! He made something revolutionary and life-changing for all walks of life! He was NOT going to be a snack to some brute, and he didn’t even know if he would let him out or not!
Breathing heavily and putting his back against the wall, he looked up at K.rupp. The glare in his eyes definitely meant he was gonna eat him, he’d seen the same type of look in the eyes of his own old coworkers, who weren't really all that angry, but just wanted a quick meal and luckily there was just a pissy small man in reach. But oh boy. K.rupp had rage firing up behind those dark eyes. It wasn’t like anything he had quite seen before, and it made Professor P. even more scared, especially for his life.
Before he could object or actually do anything, K.rupp snatched his shirt collar, pulling him up closer to the other man’s face. Professor P.oopyp.ants yelped, staring at the gleaming off-white teeth that greeted him as K.rupp smiled widely. It was a sight that he was far more than familiar with, and he hated it. Grunting, he tried kicking at the principal, clawing at his hand with his short fingernails. He really did not want to be eaten, in this moment, in this place, and especially by him.
Unfortunately, his feeble attempts to stop K.rupp were unhelpful, and just encouraged the bigger man to laugh loudly. “Oh, look at you! Do you really think you’re strong enough to stop me?” K.rupp taunted, watching Professor P. squirm in his clutch. His struggling began to thin out as he saw K.rupp’s mouth open.
*GULP!*
The short man felt himself fall into place into the bag-like organ. It was wet, humid, and frankly had a goddamn horrible stench. He couldn’t fully move even if he wanted to, the walls restricted his movement a bit. “YOU BRUTE!” He hollered, squirming. There wasn’t really much response to Professor P.oopypant’s complaint other than a shove from the outside, pushing the walls into him, getting his outfit more damp and ruining his hair. Overwhelming noises surrounded him, making him a bit more anxious on the outside than he already was on the inside, pun not intended.
“Sorry, what was that?” K.rupp said. Professor P. was thrown around a bit as the principal sat down in his chair.
“I SAID-” Another shove. “Are you NOT listening?!”
“Eh, not really. Your voice is kinda muffled in there.”
“I DON’T NEED YOU SMART-MOUTHING ME!” Professor P.oopypants said, huffing, pushing back the walls with his hands. The muscles cringed a little at his touch, but otherwise stretched by a small margin. He was wet, being ignored, and rather pissed off at the moment. Not really a good thing for him in this type of situation. The.. probably ex-teacher was about to raise his voice again when he got shook around a little once more.
He grunted. “Can you STOP moving around?”
“Mr. P, I’m just trying to get comfy, which you should too. I’m getting rather.. *yawn* ..tired from this whole scene..”
The professor panicked a little. Shit, his one way out of here was going to sleep! But Professor P.oopypants couldn’t do much about it, the most he could do was struggle and make K.rupp keep him in there longer. So, he just sat there. Pouting a little, but still giving up. Oh well, maybe K.rupp would let him out when he woke up. He wasn’t at all the best human being in the world, but there had to be some mercy in his actions.
So he got comfy as well, stuck in the gut of someone who was probably going to fire him, who was just sitting with his feet kicked up on the desk. The pulpy walls weren’t the most comfortable. Neither were the fluids that stuck to him and irritated him. But sleeping through whatever might happen if he wasn’t shown mercy to was at least better than being awake when it happened. andd K.rupp was already snoring..
Tumblr media
(A/N: HIII AAAAAAAAAAAAA I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE FIC. i pushed this back wayyy 2 many times to count but i ended up finishing it when my wifi gave up 4 the 500th time this week so im hoping bored af Critter was able 2 make a weird little C.U vore fanfic that you liked!! tried my best 2 make them even the slightest bit in character because the fear of not being accurate even in the vore fic scene is terrifying 2 me, but i *think* i did good, especially since i tried imagining it in their voices from the movie.)
23 notes · View notes
spoopydooblr · 5 months
Note
The Ken and Stella pregnancy blurb was so good could you write one where they find out that she’s pregnant?
ive been thinking about this scenario a lot and i cant really decide how i want this to go . . .
i think a year or so after they get married (stella is like 30ish) they start to really do their research and find the best fertility clinic in the city. its been almost 20 years since kendall and rava struggled to get pregnant, but still, he's not feeling optimistic.
stella gets a clean bill of health from the doctor, but ken isn't so lucky. just as he suspected, he was the problem. again.
was it the drugs? he was clean now, but he used so much...could he have ruined his chances forever?
stella assures him that it'll be okay, but she never went through what he had to 20 years ago.
they decide on a couple of treatments. they're both taking shots every day and pills at night and its exhausting. most of the meds go to kendall, but stella has to take some too, just in case.
they begin with intrauterine insemination, which is pretty simple and painless, but stella gets her period two weeks later. its hard on both of them, but especially kendall because he knows it's him, not her.
next they try ivf, which is a lot more complicated and expensive (not that money is an issue). now they both have to do injections and stella goes in for her egg retrieval.
the egg retrieval goes better than expected and they're left with 10. ken's sample has some relatively viable sperm so they pull the trigger and try to make some embryos.
the waiting is by-far the worst part, because deep down kendall knows there's no way those embryos are going to get made with his shitty sperm. he's right, unfortunately, and they're back to square one with zero embryos and ten now-frozen eggs.
kendall suggests a donor, like they did with iverson. stella's heartbroken, but they start to look into other options.
because they have the best doctors, however, they get into a trial for a new drug that increases sperm count and viability. stella is thrilled and insists kendall try it, but it's another injection and he's not super happy about it. nothing has ever worked for him, why now?
it's nice to have a break from more intense treatments, so they agree and kendall marks his torso up with injection pricks again.
three months later, ken and stella are enjoying some time off from surgery and tiny, microscopic cells that control their lives. kendall's in new york for the week, working on some financials for their production company (i imagine them making something rival to waystar and completely taking over the media scene), and stella is holding it down in los angeles, or at least trying to.
it's flu season and she's been to so many fancy parties in the last few weeks, stella is sick as a dog. she's a little worried, but the nausea, vomiting and headaches are typical for the flu, right?
she also chalks her late period up to stress. but it's been at least a few weeks...
the day before kendall is supposed to come home, stella drives herself to the hospital after she can't stop throwing up.
"when did the symptoms start?" the doctor asks.
"a week ago, i think, but ive been feeling kind of off for a while."
"and there's no chance you're pregnant? when was your last period?"
stella's heart skips a beat.
"um, i'm not sure. we're trying, uh, but it's been unsuccessful. my period is really irregular and i've been stressed so--" she trails off. "we've been trying for a couple of years."
"and are you taking medication?"
"i did, but it's not really..." she thinks for a bit. "it's not a uterus issue, it's my husband."
"and what is he taking?"
she tells the doctor about the new medication kendall is taking. "it's only been three months, so we're still hopeful. or at least i am."
"i've heard some great things about that new drug. it's really changing people's lives." the doctor smiles, turning away from stella and writing something down. "i'm going to order some tests, but i think you're fine."
------------------
kendall, obviously, sprints to his jet when stella tells him she's sick. she insists she's fine, but wants him to come home as soon as he can, which stresses him out to no avail.
he bursts through the door four hours later, finding stella reading a magazine on the couch.
"stell!" he says, running towards her.
"hey baby." she hugs him, bringing him down to the couch with her. stella presses her lips to his, but kendall is confused.
"aren't you sick?" he pulls away.
her face breaks into a huge smile. "about that..." stella gets up from the couch and walks to the kitchen.
kendall looks at her quizzically, as she comes back with a piece of paper in her hands.
"i have something to show you." she says, holding the paper close to her.
"okay..." kendall smiles at her, utterly confused.
stella carefully sits next to him on the couch. "here."
kendall recognizes the picture immediately. he used to frame them when rava was pregnant with iverson.
"what is this?" he holds up the ultrasound. it's too good to be true, right? tears prick his eyes.
stella is crying already, and takes his hand. "that's inside of me."
he looks down at the black and white photo again. a fuzzy, bean-looking object sits, next to another, smaller object. he's speechless for the first time in his life.
"what is that?" he whispers, pointing to the smaller object on the page.
stella looks at him, and he really can't read her for once.
"this surprise comes with another surprise." she laughs.
kendall's crying, but he takes another look. "is that..."
"yeah."
"two?" he smiles wide.
"i'm pregnant." she finally says, putting her hands on his cheeks. "baby, we're having twins."
they both burst out into crying giggles, hugging. kendall kisses her all over, stopping at her stomach. it's still pretty flat, but he knows her body so well he swears he can see a tiny bump growing.
THIS WAS SO FUN AND LOVELY TO WRITE I LOVE THEM AND I HOPE U DO TOO
23 notes · View notes
hebruh · 4 months
Text
i hate to be vulnerable on here bc assholes are going to immediately leap on it for their chance to strike a nerve, but i have the power of SSRIs and the block button on my side so i guess ill go for it anyways.
ive really distanced myself from a lot of the social groups i was in following october 7th, and the final nail in the coffin was cutting off a very close friend after an argument between us, so i haven't really been talking to people lately...which fucking sucks, and i honestly feel like a shriveled up raisin, but it's given me a lot of time to think. i've mainly been thinking about the friend i had to cut off because he's the only person i actually cut off following a confrontation, and the thing is, like...the argument began because i expressed that lately i've found myself wishing i wasn't born jewish, and and he responded with something that—i hate assuming things and assigning hidden meanings to what people say, but—honestly came off as a leading question. "what does this have to do with you being jewish?" and i find myself thinking back on this kind of indignantly, because what was he planning to do, enlighten me to the idea that zionism has nothing to do with judaism or antisemitism while i was venting to him after i learned about the death of a friend? you'd have to be engaging in denialism at this point to claim that there hasn't been an uptick in antisemitism—especially VISIBLE antisemitism—since october 7th.
but thats really the sticking point for me, that what led to the argument was me admitting that i was struggling with my jewish identity. sure, maybe our conflicting beliefs on israel would have come up at some point, but it didn't have to be that night, when i was dealing with so much grief already. bludgeoning me over the head with the thought that antisemitism isnt "as important" right now isn't suddenly going to make it affect me less lol. in what situation has anyone in this world ever, after having their feelings "factually" disputed, suddenly been like "oh, thank you! i am miraculously feeling better about this all of a sudden and no longer am in need of support!"
and ofc by making the mistake of posting it to tumblr there were ghouls who jumped at the chance to take their feelings out on this random jew whose opinions they disagree with. "you should have listened better," or "i feel sorry for your friend," or some other smug bullshit. it's so ridiculous to me. in any other context, on any day before october 7th, if i had said that "sometimes i wish i wasn't born jewish because of how inescapable antisemitism is," the only people who might give me shit for it are literal nazis, and i try not to insert myself in nazi circles, so that's not typically something im concerned about. suddenly, while venting to a friend who KNOWS that i am supportive of palestinian liberation and critical of israel, that statement gets treated like it's some sort of zionist psyop that needs to be challenged. posting "someone i regarded as a close friend challenged me about my views on israel when i vented about antisemitism" would generally be regarded as a shitty thing to do!
i don't know how to wrap this up but it's just so surreal to me; how conditional everyone's compassion for jewish people is and how im somehow expected NOT to feel unwelcome in majority-gentile spaces in the world. there are people who are going to read this entire post and somehow still go on to tell me to kill myself, that im paranoid, or self-centered, that im "weaponizing antisemitism," or making things up, or that i "love dead palestinian children" (why is it always dead children that get brought up in these hate messages? curious). that's crazy!!! and i just have to keep going on with my regular life outside of tumblr. damn 🤷‍♂️
18 notes · View notes
suyacho · 4 months
Text
hi lovelies, i know ive been in and out of here and im really sorry for that🫶🥹 just wanted to make a little post addressing some things going on, not on tumblr bc idk wtf is going on (if theres something going on) ive barely been on dash or didn’t scroll past more than 5 posts before closing it again because im busy. let me put it under readmore bc i’ll probably ramble🥹
anyways hi!! as i stated before i think, i started a new school and i started working, busy life!! now work has me exhausted, both mentally & physically, so i haven’t been on here much not have time nor motivation to write too much which i’m really sorry for, especially considering i promised. i love writing, i really do but i feel like the spark is gone, maybe it’s because i’ve been non stop writing smut (with occasionally fluff here n there) over the past few months? or scrap that maybe even since last kinktober because i didnt finish that on time either🥹 (this is probably why the sparks gone) don’t get me wrong, i love writing smut but when it’s so much it just makes me feel like eh not another smut fic and especially after work i can’t find the energy to write porn, like i’d love me itto all oiled up in bed but writing it?? (LMAO SORYRRHHR) it’s just idk🥹 i guess i feel guilty for posting a kinktober but never even finishing it or giving you guys shitty fics when i owe you guys nothing and this is just supposed to be a fun little thingie, but i wanna give back to you guys with the handful of people who have supported me all the way, from the start or even over a year, i appreciate it sm and want to give back to you guys🫶 i hope you all know i greatly appreciate it so thank you and i’m sorry.
on that note thank god i put a readmore bc i knew id ramble and this post isnt even about writing mainly LAMSOAOSOS
but anyways work yes!! i work 4 days a week which might not seem like much bc i know there are people who work way more but hey, im exhausted and that is valid regardless. i dont like my job which is ok, i picked it myself and know the consequences but the environment also drains me mentally, won’t get into that though!!
and onto school <3 i fucking love my school, my class, everything, i wish it was more than one day a week. but with school and the holidays coming around, it also means something. it means that i slowly gotta make a big choice that will impact my student life after this and will decide if ill be let into the bachelors im going for or not. which means that i really gotta start taking it seriously and work more on my portfolio, which now obviously will be my main focus, leading back to the writing but ill say that in the end!!
mentally i’m not ok, which is ok. we all have our ups and downs but lately it’s been feeling like a lots of downs, a lot of things play a role in that but i won’t be going into detail about that. i’ll be okay one day, i’m still alive and have a roof above my head Alhamdulillah.
all those things together mean one thing, i’ll be uploading less!! (which i’ve barely been doing anyways LMAO) to the two people that expected stuff, sorry </3, to the others i disappointed, i’m sorry </3
i’ll also be less active, or maybe just not at all for a bit but just know that i’ll definitely come back when things have settled down, hopefully with more motivation and more fics <3 life’s moving forward and so am i bit by bit.
i guess this is quite the dramatic way to announce a hiatus but hey it’s 6am and i barely slept and just rambled to my little space <3 but once again, thank you guys for the support and understanding. i just wanted to make a post so you guys know what to expect and all :)
thank you and have a good day/night!
12 notes · View notes
im getting worse all i can do is use and manipulate people, i dont even know my true intentions anymore. ive been passing it off as me being more confident and feeling safe enough to ask more questions and take more risks in relationships because it makes me happy and i feel good about it but i just always feel like im asking for too much, especially the little things like Oh could you hand me that thing, or Could you check the time for me, Could you refill our water, Do you know where X item is located, etc etc. it makes me feel like im weaponising my incompitence - but im not incompetent, i can in fact do these things myself, i just feel, i dont know, like maybe im including people more when i ask them to help me a bit. lately ive been thinking of people as just extra hands or entertainment and that really scares me - i have to tell myself in my head No these are real people with real feelings i cant just keep asking for things and coming over because my own life is so boring, but its really hard to convince myself.
guy whos convinced hes manipulating his friends and that one day ill snap or theyll realize how shitty i am and ill get what i deserve.
8 notes · View notes