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ask-artsy-oncie · 3 years

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So I’m kinda in a meh/apathetic headspace in regards to my mental health right now. Maybe it would be best to just let some thoughts out.

Firstly, I do want to apologize for making stupid, borderline inflammatory posts and throwing them out there onto tumblr dot com, I know that’s never the best course of action. However, I really, really do not appreciate anons sending vague “are you okay”s at me. If you’re not close enough to me where you can’t PM me (relatively) face-to-face, then I really wouldn’t like random inquiries about my mental health from you. Maybe it’s just because I don’t 100% trust anons (I’ve been here for a decade, I’ve seen some shit, can you really blame me?) but I think I ought to make myself clear on that. Are we clear on that? cool.

I don’t know... I’ve felt so lost and tired recently, moreso than usual.

I’ve always had a massive complex about annoying people, being too self-indulgent, not having good ideas or opinions or what-have-you. People who have known me for a while almost definitely know that. I don’t think it all necessarily exists in a vacuum, either I have a genuinely hard time coming up with objectively good ideas. Sometimes I’m just straight-up “head empty” mode. I’m also often really opinionated and sometimes intend to die on hills that people aren’t really meant to die on (or are even necessarily worth dying on). I can get way too wrapped up on meaningless things because my brain is too hyperfocused on this one thing, or maybe something I rely too heavily on for comfort is... I don’t know how to put it.... put at risk? Challenged? I have a lot of mental issues and real life issues, though I’m not claiming to be massively oppressed or anything, but I tend to cling to comforts a little too desperately. And I’m not just talking about like. Media. Just comforts in general. Sometimes I’ll spend too much of the day laying in bed. Sometimes I cling to old relationships or old forms of relationships or I constantly worry about the day I’ll inevitably no longer have the same relationships I have now.

I’ve known I needed therapy for a while now. I’m waitlisted and everything, but I need to go about actually choosing a therapist to see and I’ve been dragging my feet on that so I guess that’s my bad. I’ll get to it. Shit’s overwhelming, yknow?

Anyways I know I have a lot of these flaws and problems and I think my horrible anxieties about being too annoying and whatnot is just a really extreme form of self-reflection. Maybe. Not entirely sure. Maybe a therapist could tell me.

I get way too passionate, way too easily, and it’s almost always followed by a super intense period of shame, like, to the point where I’m desperate to isolate myself and destroy my relationships with other people, because then at least I’m actually trying to destroy a relationship by being a bad person, rather than someone leaving me for... I don’t know, being too happy? Caring too much? Talking too much? Just. Shit I have less control over.

I’ve tried putting a cap on it, suppressing everything. Trying not to indulge too much, trying not to be so happy and talkative, straight-up deleting messages I think might be too annoying the second I send them. Trying to be inoffensive through being unnoticeable. I’m trying to do that now, honestly. It’s why I joked about deleting my blog. All it does is hurt and make me go fucking nuts because I’m bottling up a lot in doing that, I know. I’m just not fully convinced I don’t just deserve to feel that way.

There are a lot of points in my life where I’m convinced that my best course of action in succeeding or keeping people from being put-off by me is to just sit down and shut up and draw what I’m told to draw. To just completely lose my agency in drawing. It makes sense, when you feel like you don’t have any good ideas of your own, you just illustrate others’. And there are many, many points where I have done this out of a place of love. Fuck, most of what I’ve drawn for Lolly’s writing has come out of a place of genuine love, not just for her work, but for her. A lot of what I’ve drawn for Bethany (for any REAL long-time followers reading this) has been like that, too. But there are also points where it honestly just feels like my only purpose is to be a tool through which others may visualize their whims. That if I dare inject too much of myself into things, they’ll be permanently ruined. And then there’s the shame I feel in having wanted to impart a piece of myself into a work - a demerit for being too selfish or self-important to deem my whims anywhere near good or important enough to be included.

I have so many ideas. So many opinions and thoughts and feelings and genuine insight that I’ve suppressed or deleted because I either feel like that’s what’s expected of me, or I’m straight-up told that my thoughts and opinions are bad and wrong. Like. Fuck me for having opinions on animated media levels of being shut-down. And you know, I’ve noticed something in the past decade of being an insufferable opinionated prick about things like that - that it’s actually easier for me to enjoy media when I’m allowed to be negative and critical of it. When I am allowed to just share my thoughts. And I don’t mean like, without being disagreed with, I mean like, in an environment where I’m made to feel like I actually can share these thoughts. When I can pinpoint and analyze what I didn’t like or what made me upset, it can be a lot easier for me to then move on and be able to focus on aspects that I genuinely do like. Like, holy fuck, it is SO much easier for me to pick-and-choose aspects of a certain sequel film that I actually like and feel comfortable saying I like than it was for me to do with the original, because I no longer have an incredibly toxic person in my life (or at least, in my life as much).

But that doesn’t mean I haven’t had this kind of experience since then, like. There are STILL things I struggle to move past because I have been made to feel like I just can’t fucking talk about them without being insufferable (sorry if I’m overusing that word - it just feels like the best word the feeling I’m trying to describe) or just straight-up ruining something for someone I care about. Keeping shit like this in does crazy shit to me, for real, and there’s still a large part of me that tells me “Fuck you. Suck it up. None of this shit matters.” Y’know? Because in the grand scheme of things, I know it doesn’t. And then there’s the shame that comes from having cared so much in the first place. It’s a fucking cycle. There’s some shit that’s just irreparable ruined for me because of this and that SUCKS.

I don’t like losing comforts. Fuck, I hate it, really. And I’m not talking about new comforts coming along and catching my attention as an old comfort begins to wane, I’m talking like. Destroying relationships, feeling SO MUCH shame surrounding a comfort media that it’s too difficult to enjoy it no matter how hard I try, or having too hard of a time disassociating a comfort with a horrible event or person. And it’s feeling like at LEAST one of these is starting to happen to me again and Good Gods it’s just. It’s so terrifying.

But who do I tell? When my primary worry is annoying or offending or hurting people? Y’know? I can’t just vent to one single person to this all the time, that isn’t fair. But it gets to a point where my brain tells me “No, you can’t talk to ANYONE about this because that’s rude and wrong and a true friend wouldn’t do that. There’s a reason why you can make any number of concerning posts, messages, private ramblings, whatever, and the people you’re closest to won’t ask you what’s wrong.”

And, yeah, honestly, I do think it’s true that the people I consider my closest friends won’t read this. I actually don’t believe the average person will read this, or at least get this far. I genuinely do just talk too much and it’s a lot for most people to deal with. Otherwise, I talk too little, and probably enter the “you should be able to read my MIND” level of expectations, which, of course, isn’t far. I understand, I swear I do, it just takes some time to come to terms with every time I get wrapped up in my stupid mental stuff. And I also promise that I try to give these people the same kind of response I want, y’know? I try to look out for any worrying behavior and try to offer an ear and help in any way that I can. I don’t think expecting the same in return is fair, I just worry about any of them being like me, and I’m willing to play to that if it’s necessary. I’ll break quiet streaks for that shit, y’know?

Honestly, these stupid quiet streaks are probably more unbearable for me than they are even noticeable for most people. It sucks. I just wish my mind was normal so I A) wouldn’t have these insecurities to begin with, because B) I would never end up exhibiting the behavior to warrant such insecurities.

There’s so much shit I want to talk about, to analyze, or explore, that I want to share with the world, or at least with people I love, that I probably never will because my stupid brain has already decided that all this stupid shit is better kept to myself where it can rot and be forgotten eventually. Which is fine, in the grand scheme of things, I guess, because I functionally have never really been the guy who comes up with ideas (at least, good ideas) I’m just the pencil, the one who I guess makes things visual? I can’t even bring myself to say “I bring the ideas to life” because that’s pretentious and untrue. These ideas are already alive because they come from brilliant minds.

I don’t even think it’s fair for me to call myself a character designer unless the characters are my own. Otherwise, I’m just following the directions of a much more competent conceptualizer (there’s a reason my characters barely have any... well, character). That’s the reason why I removed my unearned credit as the character designer for Ty from Swindle’s description, because I really don’t deserve that kind of credit. It’s why the asks about the designing process of Ty have been left unanswered, because, fuck, what do I even say? “I just did what Lolly told me to do, just like I did with all of Swindle. Please don’t give me that kind of credit, I know I falsely ascribed it to myself earlier, and I want to rectify that”? I guess I could have, actually, now that I’m typing this. But people always get fucking upset with me when I try not to take credit, even when it’s shit that isn’t mine!! So I don’t know what to do!! I don’t know what to fucking do!!! Because I just don’t fucking want to make people upset or unhappy!!!!!!!

I’m sorry, this post is too long and I’ve worked myself up and I’m no longer apathetic. I’m gonna go cry myself to sleep so big win for my complexion, honestly.

Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I guess getting this shit out of my system is probably best to do in a big tumblr post no one will read.

I don’t want anons about this. If I can just ask one thing. Please.

#do n/ot reb/lo/g #rant #vent #long post #probably won't delete tbh #i don't know it's the most competent i've been about weird mind shit for a while now #so maybe it would be best to just leave it

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topswormsly · 4 years

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Storybots OCs!!!!!

I'm actually pretty proud of how these fellas came out!! Drew the concepts traditionally first, then drew them digitally in IbisPaint X, my main drawing app. I'm not really happy with the way the gradient effect looks on their bodies, but the Ibis blur tool is very goodn't so it's the best I could manage with the limitations of the program. Other than that, I feel like I did a decent job replicating the art style. These five are OCs of mine, only conceptualized last night, and they're all technically under 24 hours old at the time of uploading this. Answer Team AU23, one of the worst teams in the department!! Hap does not like these fellas at all; if you thought his disappointment in 341B was bad, you should see the way he feels about this team. Rightfully so, as they rarely answer questions correctly, and if they do, it'll take much longer than it typically takes 341B to. This is mostly due to AU23 not consisting of the smartest members. ...Okay, only about two of them are actually very smart at all. They goof around non-stop, constantly get on each other's nerves, and are generally a mess. They'd probably all be out of a job if it weren't for the department being so busy and needing all the help they can get. Now to go over the individual characters! I'll describe them in order, from left to right. First off, we have Blink, the team leader! As much as he tries to be seen as a good person, he has a habit of lashing out on his teammates if he's pushed past his limit. He's not usually the violent type, but won't hesitate to give long lectures to his teammates if they're doing something wrong, though no one ever listens to him. He's got some real issues with his temper, but tries his best to keep them under control. He's a stickler for the rules, and can come off as bossy and controlling to his team. On top of this, he's a bit of a perfectionist, and hates germs, bugs, almost all rodents... He hates a lot of things, actually. Despite his flaws, he's often the only one to actually get the team closer to answering a question, and is rather intelligent. He's usually pretty levelheaded, despite his habit of losing his cool. Next up, there's Bling! He would legitimately sell his entire team for a nickel. In fact, he's done it before, but that's a story for another day. This guy is obsessed with cash; rarely spends it, but always wants more. He'll often steal things from the outerworld without his team knowing, only to sell it when they return home. He's very clever, decently street-smart, but not very book-smart at all. He's millions in debt to who knows how many people, and is pretty much constantly hiding from them, which is why his job is so convenient for him; he can escape to the outerworld whenever he's on the run. He rarely ever actually contributes to answering any questions, and really only cares for himself. He's a master of mind games, able to talk his way out of almost anything. He's got a bit of a gambling problem, and to make matters worse, he always cheats. Though he puts on a friendly facade, he's actually a huge jerk at times, and will often use his teammates just to get his way. He's a huge coward, and won't hesitate to put his team in danger, if it means keeping himself out of it. Next is Blip! He doesn't take his job seriously whatsoever. He's got nicknames for each of his teammates, most of whom significantly dislike these nicknames. He's got a passion for practical jokes, and doesn't discriminate as far as who he'll pull them on. He tends to defy the laws of physics on occasion, and seems to have an endless supply of jokes and gags that he can pull out of thin air. He'll often try, and fail horribly, to make light of a bad situation with his jokes. As much as he tries to help, his leads almost never lead to a correct answer, and he's got little-to-no brain cells. The few brain cells he does have are pretty much entirely taken up by his extensive knowledge of pranks and pointless gags; it's all he knows, and all he feels he needs to know. Although he'll never deliberately hurt anyone with his pranks, if someone happens to be hurt in the process, he'll just shrug it off as long is it's not severe. Then we have Bloom! Socially awkward and a total coward, Bloom is an absolute mess. She's quite literally scared of her own shadow, this poor girl. She's a frequent target for Blip's pranks, and doesn't take them well at all. She's very sensitive, and would cry at even the most childish insult. Seriously, if you called her "smelly", she'd start sobbing. She's actually very smart, though she's usually too anxious to voice her opinions, even if she has a potential lead to help answer a question. She's terrible with social interaction, and if spoken to by someone she doesn't know well, she'll freeze up. She is actually very sweet once you get to know her, though most don't bother to, since she keeps to herself so much. Finally, we have Blam! She's... A feral creature. She's constantly talking like a pirate, just because she can and she wants to. She's obsessed with fire, pointless chaos, and anything that goes boom; explosions are her life. She can be violent if provoked, but would never really do much more than a punch or two. She does have morals, though they rarely show, and they're clearly not very good. She used to hate when people commented on her eye, though over time she's come to almost be proud of it, thinking it makes her look tough. Why, you may ask, does her eye look like that? Well, it's a long story, but to roughly explain it, she was corrupted while returning from the outerworld one time, due to a glitch in the system. It could theoretically be fixed, but at this rate, she doesn't want to fix it. That's about it!!! I'll probably be making more OCs later on, but until then, I'll leave you with these fellas. Do know that I will probably be writing about them!!! If I do, it'll be posted on DeviantArt and on my Wattpad, with luck. I’ll link it in a post on here if I do write it.

#my posts #storybots #ask the storybots #storybots ocs

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kasprzaks · 4 years

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eddie kasprzak, reactionary extraordinaire

both balloons tethered to the microfilm recorder now read ASTHMA MEDICINE GIVES YOU CANCER! below the slogan are grinning skulls.

eddie’s characterisation flooding its way into the third person narrator in the book ESPECIALLY in eddie’s bad break is amazing and i’d die for it. his voice elsewhere in the book is very poetic and looks at things more conceptually than solidly, but the more of a grounding in this chapter while his head runs wild continues and tries to comprehend such a horrible conversation (specifically looking at his convo with mr keene in eddie’s bad break p2) succeeds so much to solidify him as a character outside of just what he says and does. i love it so here’s an entire collection that shows his reactions and the intensity he reaches as he buries himself in his brain in such a difficult situation and how it’s integrated into the prose in such a way we really feel like we’re living in his head despite the third person gap we have to cross to get there.

‘Mr Keene,' he says, and his voice sounds distant to his own ears, without power. 'It was Mr Keene.'

'Not exactly the nicest man in Derry,' Mike says, but Eddie, lost in his thoughts, barely hears him.

... eddie always always has a whole thing of trying to be brave (and in this chapter he’s always saying something along the lines of what would big bill do?) but, in the process, manages to get so worked up he’s at a disconnect to what’s actually going on. as he starts to recall the memory with the rest of the losers 27 years later, he starts retreating into his own head because that’s simply how he is. he’s such a thinker that even the second he says it, he’s fading out. he barely hears him. this follows on as he recalls the memory and it’s contrary to the rest of the book where, normally, since we see eddie through someone else’s eyes (third person limited omniscient since the book is made up of multiple third person narrations), we only really see him being quiet as opposed to the actual physical disconnect we see when it is an eddie third person limited in complicated moments.

Mr Keene sat down in the swivel chair behind his desk and took one. Then he opened his drawer and took something out. He put it down next to the tall bottle of licorice whips and Eddie felt real alarm course through him. It was an aspirator. Mr Keene tilted back in his swivel chair until his head was almost touching the calendar on the wall behind him. The picture on the calendar showed more pills. It said SQUIBB. And —

— and for one nightmare moment, when Mr Keene opened his mouth to speak, Eddie remembered what had happened in the shoe store when he was just a little kid, when his mother had screamed at him for putting his foot in the X-ray machine. For that one nightmare moment Eddie thought Mr Keene would say: 'Eddie, nine out of ten doctors agree that asthma medicine gives you cancer, just like the X-ray machines they used to have in the shoe stores. You've probably got it already. Just thought you ought to know.'

... he struggles to stay in the moment and this is just how he is his whole life. i’m gonna reference it chapter two for a second but the fact that his job in that version was a risk analyst? god send, they really hit the nail on the head for what they were trying to do in that interpretation there and i totally see how they got to it because risk analysing is just what he does. in this part where he sits down with mr keene, the convo hasn’t even begun. no one’s said a word and yet the second mr keene shows promise of saying anything, mr active imagination risk analyst eddie kasprzak has already thought up everything and dreamt himself into oblivion. scenarios exist without ever fully existing and in any given moment he’s already left reality and hopped onto another universe where the worst has just or will just happen.

Mr Keene wrapped a bunched, bony, liverspotted hand around the balloon and squeezed. The balloon bulged over and under his fist and Eddie winced, trying to get ready for the pop. Simultaneously he felt his breathing stop altogether. He leaned over the desk and grabbed for the aspirator on the blotter. His shoulder struck the heavy ice-cream-soda glass. It toppled off the desk and shattered on the floor like a bomb.

Eddie heard that only dimly. He was clawing the top off the aspirator, slamming the nozzle into his mouth, triggering it off. He took a tearing heaving breath, his thoughts a ratrun of panic as they always were at moments like this: Please Mommy I'm suffocating I can't BREATHE oh my dear God oh dear Jesus meekandmild I can't BREATHE phase I don't want to die don't want to die oh please —

Then the fog from the aspirator condensed on the swollen walls of his throat and he could breathe again.

'I'm sorry,' he said, nearly crying. 'I'm sorry about the glass . . . I'll clean it up and pay for it . . . just please don't tell my mother, okay? I'm sorry, Mr Keene, but I couldn't breathe —

... gets very caught up on one thing. he does this whole whole chapter. it goes on in the next quote here ...

'Good,' Mr Keene said. 'We have an understanding. And you feel much better now, don't you?'

Eddie nodded.

'Why?'

'Why? Well . . . because I had my medicine.' He looked at Mr Keene the way he looked at Mrs Casey in school when he had given an answer he wasn't quite sure of.

'But you didn't have any medicine,' Mr Keene said. 'You had a placebo.A placebo, Eddie, is something that looks like medicine and tastes like medicine but isn't medicine. A placebo isn't medicine because it has no active ingredients. Or, if it is medicine, it's medicine of a very special sort. Head-medicine.' Mr Keene smiled. 'Do you understand that, Eddie? Head-medicine.'

Eddie understood, all right; Mr Keene was telling him he was crazy. But through numb lips he said, 'No, I don't get you.'

... it’s hard to understand that this is the truth, let alone why he’s being told this. obviously eddie’s determined on the fact that he’s not crazy, but the main part up until this point i got caught up on was his continued disconnect and mostly passive not wanting to change at all attitude so he can get out of there. the numb lips and the references before to having his voice being distant, him constantly disappearing off into the tangents his head brings him on. there’s few and far between moments where he actually responds in between mr keene telling him what he’s telling him, and the prose between that is him thinking (panickingly thinking), filled with him trying to dream up other things and trying to ground himself in thinks he can compare the unfamiliar to. i especially love the cut in, in the first quote that sk puts through the whole book of another narration coming straight from eddie’s head. the stream of panic to really push it through.

Eddie said: 'My medicine does so work.'

'I know it does,' Mr Keene replied, and smiled a maddening complacent grownup's smile. 'It works on your chest because it works on your head. HydrOx, Eddie, is water with a dash of camphor thrown in to give it a medicine taste.'

'No,' Eddie said. His breath had begun to whistle again.

Mr Keene drank some of his soda, spooned some of the melting ice cream, and fastidiously wiped his chin with his handkerchief while Eddie used his aspirator again.

'I want to go now,' Eddie said.

'Let me finish, please.'

'No! I want to go, you've got your money and I want to go!' ... 'I'm not crazy,' Eddie whispered, the words coming out in a bare husk.Mr Keene's chair creaked like a monstrous cricket. 'What?''I said I'm not crazy!' Eddie shouted. Then, immediately, a miserable blush rose into his face.

... the moment the panic finally takes over and becomes enough. strangely (thought it makes total sense when thinking about how internal eddie is versus when he’s finally had enough and gets pushed over the edge) he really does lash out. he’s immediately embarrassed that he’s done it, but he does do it. he switches from the passive life line carrying on in his brain he’s hoping will carry him out of the situation, and tries to get out of it before the emotional gets too much and really tries to put a stop to it. all in good time, too, because when eddie finally does leave ...

Eddie's brain thudded and whirled. Oh, he felt sick, he felt very sick. ... He slipped it into his pocket and watched the traffic pass back and forth, headed up Main Street and down Up-Mile Hill. He tried not to think. The sun beat down on his head, blaringly hot. Each passing car threw bright darts of reflection into his eyes, and a headache was starting in his temples.

... emphasis on the sensory and the physical manifestations of his emotions. he feels so strongly and the physical ramifications comes as a result of his anxiety. his head aches, his ‘asthma’ is acting up. of course he takes his inhaler but a few moments later and ...

He looked fixedly at the aspirator, unaware of the old lady who glanced curiously at him as she passed on down the hill toward Main Street with her shopping basket over her arm. He felt betrayed. And for one moment he almost cast the plastic squeeze bottle into the gutter — better yet, he thought, throw it down that sewer– grating. Sure! Why not? Let It have it down there in Its tunnels and dripping sewer-pipes. Have a pla–cee-bo, you hundred-faced creep! He uttered a wild laugh and came within an ace of doing it. But in the end, habit was simply too strong. He replaced the aspirator in his right front pants pocket and walked on, hardly hearing the occasional blare of a horn or the diesel drone of the Bassey Park bus as it passed him. He was likewise unaware of how close he was to discovering what being hurt — really hurt — was all about.

... this is straying away from the actual point of the post slightly, but, as it says, habit remains too strong. he’s a character that almost always returns to the ‘comfortable’, though familiar is actually a much better word for it. to return to the point of the post in regards to this, though this time the technique isn’t exclusive to eddie centric chapters, all of the losers get cut in moments of it, i especially love eddie’s thought process tied into this moment straight up verbatim. though it’s tragic that he doesn’t follow through and chuck the aspirator down the drain (though completely understandable too), this moment ties into everything else we see of the intricacies of eddie’s inner world and how it’s obviously a full one. he really does live up there. humouring any and all possibilities no matter how out there or terrible they may seem is something that he constantly does, it’s who he is. eddie lives in the hypothetical. i think this chapter really demonstrates that and lets eddie’s discomfort become so overwhelming that it’s so difficult to even pay attention to what’s going on which totally brings us into eddie’s psyche. concentrating is difficult when you could run upstairs and live there. it’s comfortable, it’s familiar, and it doesn’t really hurt as much as the real.

#* they'll eat me alive #essentially: eddie vc shut up i got anxiety #i just really think sk deserves credit here he really did write this chapter so well #it could easily stand alone as a short story but also manages to fit so seamlessly into the plot despite having a whole world around it #and you did this for what?#anyway just thinking about my favourite character in the world #actually at some point i'm defo gonna do something abt him and sonia in hospital i fucking loVVVEDDD THAT #so well written so well executed #long post /

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saturatedolan · 5 years

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Temptress - Grayson Dolan (Part Two)

Read Temptress Part one here

WARNING: SMUT, age gap

Summary: Grayson and Y/N continue to desire each other from afar. Ever since their first sexual encounter, they just can’t seem to stop thinking about each other. It’s only a matter of time until their temptations completely consume them, leading them to do the greatest act of intimacy.

Word count: 8.4K

A/N: Hi! So here’s Temptress part two. Thank you guys so much for the love I received from part one, it was my frist attempt and i’m still shocked at how much attention it got. Anyway, hope you guys like this one, this is my second time posting it because the first time didn’t work out lol.

If you haven’t read part one yet, the link is just below the title.

“Goodbye, Y/N”

The two words walked across her mind as if she actually gave them permission to. To devour her brain into thinking such things. The small tremor of his throat to the tapping of the tongue invaded her head. Perhaps she could just think of something else, something that doesn’t concern the darkness of his eyes, his chocolate waves, his plump mouth and the way he says her name. But she simply couldn’t find room in her mind full of deep carnal desires. The innocence laced in his words were no match for her newly found cravings that consisted of her next door neighbor.

Once she left his house that scorching Tuesday afternoon she couldn’t help but imagine all the things his body could do to hers. She was itching to feel his mouth pressed on her again, to hear his voice whisper into her ear as he delivered a tsunami of pleasure to her core. Her purity had been completely tainted and she couldn’t believe it; how one man had so much power over her. She had him begging on her knees, begging to suck his throbbing cock right after he had just tasted her sweet juices. She was completely infatuated with Grayson, and he was completely under Y/N’s spell.

It had been about a week after her first ever sexual encounter with the god himself. She would often catch herself going off on a tangent and envisioning his sculpted body on top of hers, his long fingers inside the place she desired them the most. She was desperate for his touch again.

Oh, how Grayson wanted her to take all of him! As soon as she left him he knew he did something to her that day; he released a sort of sensuality about her. Of course, he denied Y/N from his cock. He could tell that she was never the type to give into sexual endeavors, but he somehow allowed her to feel liberated. One could only imagine the things that she would do for him and the things he would do for her; to make each other erupt into squirming messes.

Grayson had never really met someone like Y/N. She was the subject of his erotic fantasies. Hell, even the thought of her bright smile or her piercing eyes caused him to get aroused. It’s a shame that Grayson hadn’t touched her since that fateful day, he too was getting impatient. He would touch himself every night at the thought of her, letting the darkness consume his whole body.

“Fuck,” he let out a rough moan into the dimness of his room. His hand slid up and down his throbbing cock, going at a slow pace while picturing Y/N in his room waiting to please him. He used his thumb to swipe his reddened tip and disperse his precum onto the rest of his shaft. Grayson imagined her naked body lightly stepping towards him, her feet almost floating off the wood; her expression was needy, almost as if it was painful. He never had the chance to see her bare breasts but he was sure that they were magnificent. Perfect teardrops that fit rightfully in his hand where they belong.

“Y/N,” he couldn’t help but whisper her name as he began to pick up the pace. He went to glide his large had throughout his long member and imagined her tiny hand instead, touching him for the very first time. How she would feel every ridge and vein that he had for her. It was all for her.

His hair was now sticking to his forehead, perspiration building around his body in the humid summer evening. Moments passed where he would just get lost in the thought of her features, she the epitome of perfect to him. He was so detached from reality, putting his all into this both physically and conceptually. His naked body glistened against the midnight moon, creating a mouth-watering scene for Y/N and anyone who dared to paint the picture in their head.

His movements were fast now, his face contorting into a frown at the thought of her. His sticky, sweaty body heaving, his arm bulging and abs flexing as he released all over himself. All for her. His cum shot up as he kept pumping, almost feeling himself planting his seed all over her untouched channel. He was begging to see how it would trickle out of her as he pulled out, his own cum cascading down her tight little hole and onto the sheets.

He was flustered and out of breath. The thumping in his chest was almost out of control until his head shot up, hearing a high pitch squeal coming from house number three. He held his breath for a moment, so desperately wanting to hear it again.

Images of Y/N surged through his head, making his naked body jump up – still sticky with sweat and cum – to peer through his window, observing the beautiful greenness against the beams of the moon. His eyes scanned the house, noticing a light coming from the top left window, the curtain fluttering against the wind. Every muscle in his body tensed as he heard it again. The achingly delicious sounds of Y/N that he needed to hear so urgently. Her moans must have been loud considering he could hear her sweet little voice from his house.

Blood rushed to his cock as it twitched at the thought of her touching herself to him. He could easily imagine her delicate little fingers rubbing her pink clit until it she shattered into a million pieces.

Y/N was so close to the edge; she could feel the pleasure stream to her core as she imagined taking Grayson – all of him inside her. The warm light of her bedside lamp kept her looking angelic, a sort of glow radiating from her sweaty figure. She kept squirming while her body took her breath away, constantly trying to regulate it as best as she could. But her fun was interrupted once she heard a knock on her door, immediately cursing at herself for being so uncontrollably loud.

“Honey? You alright in there?” The sound of her mother’s voice echoed in her room, hearing the tone of genuine concern in her voice.

“Uh- Yes mother, everything’s fine!” She could’ve sworn that her parents were fast asleep already, but he thanked God that her parents allowed her to have a lock on the door. She couldn’t even imagine what her mother would do if she walked into the sight of her daughter’s exposed pink pussy, touching herself to the thought of the man next door. Y/N kept going though, keeping her fingers on her clit, circling it gently enough so she didn’t have the urge to squeal.

“Okay sweetheart, just don’t stay up too late. Remember, we have church tomorrow morning. Then we’re having the neighbors over for dinner so get some rest.” She spoke calmly, suspecting nothing but innocence going on at the other side of the door.

Y/N started to apply more pressure to her clit, vividly remembering Grayson’s thick fingers against her heat. “Neighbours?” She questioned, eyebrows arching. She would be lying if she said that that thought of getting caught didn’t turn her on.

“Yes, the Dolans. One of their boys stopped by a few days ago and thanked me for the fruit.”

Grayson Dolan. Her mind was feverishly conjuring up images of his perfectly sculpted physique. She couldn’t resist him any longer and she could combust with all the frustration!

“He’s such a lovely boy. He couldn’t stop talking about how delicious the fruits were – said they were utterly delightful,” she let out a light chuckle, “talked about how he enjoyed every last drop of their juices.” Y/N’s mother shook her head at the boy’s words, rather amused at how a boy could talk so highly about fruit.

Y/N could feel her fingers increase the rapid movements, aroused at the audacity of the man. How could he just have inexplicitly exchanged every detail of their intimacy to her own mother like that?

“Anyway, you need to get up early tomorrow, goodnight honey!” And with that, her mother turned away and walked back to her room, closing her door with a small creek.

Y/N was now shaking. The idea of Grayson relaying their filthy details made her whole body sweat, both adrenaline and pleasure coursing through her veins. She increased the speed of her fingers once again, wishing that Grayson were here to amplify her pleasure. The way his bicep would flex as he would rub her pussy, the swiftness of his fingers, how his abs would contract as he leaned over her. She focused on his so soft lips, how they stick to hers, sucking them and fondling them with his tongue. Just the thought of being around him, feeling the radiating attraction between them, made her cover her mouth and shut her eyes hard.

She was cumming, intensely, at the thought of the perfect man next door, resisting the urge to scream his name in hopes that he could hear her desire.

Y/N adjusted her dress, pulling it down slightly to hide the marks that Grayson had left for her. She was in pain. Her heart yearned for Grayson, and so did her pussy. It was a type of yearning that made her want him more each passing minute, yet she knew the longer the wait the better it would feel. She was almost contemplating just going over there and taking his cock, not caring about who saw them. It was a thought to appease a short term satisfaction but, truthfully, she was far too concerned that her parents would find out. An innocent girl lusting over the striking man next door would definitely be the last thing on their mind.

She opened the door, coming face to face with her fantasy. His hazel eyes gleaming as the porch light reflected on them. His face was scruffy, the dark stubble somehow made him look far more handsome – if that was even possible. His bright smile and tilted lips caused her to grin back at him, showing her pearly whites. How could a man like him cause such an eruption of lust and delightfulness in her stomach at the same time?

Grayson slightly chuckled as he watched her stare at him. She looked so beautiful tonight, her little dress covering just over half of her wonderful thighs which he knew belonged to him Her little grin caused his trousers to get tighter and he loved it. Grayson absolutely adored how everything Y/N did, no matter how innocent, would turn him on. Even the vivacity in her eyes made his throat hitch because he knew that he was the one to make her feel like this. It was a sort of trance for him, capturing her eyes almost made him let out a groan. He couldn’t help but think of the way her eyes followed every move of his long tongue on that sizzling summer day. But his little moment with his was disrupted as Y/N’s father came to greet him, a wide welcoming smile of his face.

Their families greeted each other with warm smiles, exchanging hellos and compliments about the delicious smell coming from the kitchen. Their eyes were still fixated on each other though. Every now and then Grayson would trail his hard eyes along her figure and his mouth would water. He had never wanted to take anyone so badly. Just the thought of her ripe cherry around his cock sent an electric vibration through his spine down to his cock. This was all he could think about. He was trying hard to keep his eyes off their only child, but it was proving more difficult as time passed.

Y/N’s pussy fluttered as their parents rambled on about the fruit again. She was starting to think that Grayson might have told every person in the neighborhood about the delightful flavours of her fruit. Mr. and Mrs. Dolan would insist on its fresh deliciousness, which perfectly described her aching core.

Their muffled words were hard to make out as her attention was completely focused of Grayson, but she could pick out adjectives such as ‘succulent’ and ‘ripe’ during her parent’s intense conversation about the farmer’s market across town. Grayson and Y/N tried hard to make their stares less obvious, but they failed completely. Their parents knew to sit them right next to each other on the dinner table, unable to differentiate between glances of pure lust and friendly infatuation. Their parents suspected nothing but an innocent little friendship blossoming.

They caught them stealing glances at one another and grinning like a pair of old friends. Although, what they didn’t catch was Grayson’s creeping hand inching towards her dripping pussy right under the neatly decorated table. The fact that Y/N would twitch every so often completely flew over their heads. So they continued on chatting, discussing the very serious topic of popsicle recipes and the merriments of their sweltering summer days.

Grayson used his fingers to caress Y/N’s creamy thighs, edging his way to her drenched pussy that he so wanted to taste again. She let out a few quiet whimpers here and there, his large hand had hadn’t completely made contact on her willing core just yet. He was teasing her slowly, agonizingly trailing his fingertips up and down her thighs until he reached the hem of her underwear. The thickness of his fingers invaded her soaked underwear as he felt the warmth radiating from the deep inside her.

Her eyes grew wide at his sudden movements. Pulses of electricity laced through her bones as she felt his heavy fingers trace along her lips, collecting her juices. It took her by surprise; how he just plunged his fingers in as if it were a casual thing to do. Her posture grew stiff and thankfully no one noticed apart from Grayson himself. He smirked to himself, knowing that his touch was far too tempting for her.

Peering down at her, he witnessed her eyes meet his and his pulse grew fast. Now it was her turn to notice the effect she had on him. Her wide eyes glimmered as she saw herself in the reflection of his hazel iris’. Grayson kept eye contact as he smoothed his fingers along her pussy to reach her clit, applying slight pressure which made her head slightly spin.

It wasn’t long until Y/N’s mother brought out her sweet-smelling peach pie, reminding Grayson about the sweet flavours of Y/N that still lingered on his tongue. He eyed the dessert as it was laid on the table. The thoughts of her sugary juices enabled him to rub her with more force, quickening his face on her pinkness. Y/N felt a frenzy of emotions flood her system as he increased his pace. It was only a matter of time until she would burst. She was so sensitive, and the fact that he hasn’t touched her for so long added to her frustration. But, unfortunately for her, he suddenly pulled his fingers out, leaving her with a frown on her face.

Grayson stopped on purpose, lifting his fingers up from under the table. The thickness of his fingers were still covered in her wetness as he used them to dip into the whipped cream which sat on top of the dessert. He lifted his fingers to his mouth and tasted the sweetness with her juices lingering with the frothy cream. He sucked until there were no remains left.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of his hollowed cheeks with the plumpness of his lips. She was dripping again, her wetness almost leaking out of her underwear and tricking down onto her seat.

“Mmm.” Grayson let out a rough growl at her before picking up his fork and devouring the sweetness placed in front of him, keeping his eyes on her the whole time to make sure she was watching the movements of his mouth.

They were alone now. Grayson’s parents decided to show off their extensive recipe book collection and invited Y/N’s parents over, leaving their children to clean up and ‘get to know each other’ as Mrs. Dolan suggested. Little did they know, they’ve been more intimate with one another than any of their parents supposed.

“Here,” Grayson passed her the last of the utensils and she grabbed them, washing them and rinsing the suds off.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she felt his hands attach themselves to her waist, his head nuzzled up in her neck.

“You always smell so…” He trailed off, thinking of the perfect word to describe her. “Tempting”, he said as he took in another breath of her scent.

“Tempting?” She arched her eyebrow as she continued to lather up the last few utensils. She tried to act unfazed yet he could feel her heart beating rapidly against his chest.

“Yeah,” he bit her ear, causing a light moan to escape her lips, “you smelt so sweet,” he placed a kiss just under her ear, “it took me all the strength in my body to resist taking you on the table”. He sucked softly on her skin only to detach them again. “Right in front of your parents.”

This caused her stomach to erupt with hundreds of butterflies. She spun around, dropping the spoons in her hands straight away. Her face was so close to his gorgeous features. They took this moment to observe their eyes, slowly darkening as the seconds passed.

She bought her lips to touch his pink ones, gently exchanging a passionate kiss which lit a fire in both their cores. The slight smacking sounds of their lips made Greyson’s bulge grow. Then she opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to enter her again. It was a slow kiss, emptying out their desires just by one small action.

Y/N was the first to make a move; gliding her delicate hands over his rock hard chest, touching his torso and to his rock hard budge. She palmed him through the thick material of his trousers, surprising herself with how forward she was being. He felt so big in her petite hand and it made her drip.

He let out a groan of pleasure, the innocent girl was no longer there as he detached their lips and stared down at her peering eyes. He swore that he could see swirls in her eyes, almost as if she was hypnotising him. Her lips tilted upwards as she grabbed his neck and crashed their lips together, hunger evident in their mouths.

Grayson entered his tongue into her mouth, tasting the lingering sweetness of the dessert. He used his lips to suck on her tongue slightly, letting out a rough rasp.

The tender hands which held his cock applied more pressure, palming him more roughly and making his labored breaths escape with a groan. She used her fingers to undo his belt and the clanking of the metal buckles cause him to pull away.

“Y/N-”

“Please, Grayson,” she cut him off quickly, “I want you in my mouth. I want to taste you.”

He stayed silent, stunned at what just came out of his innocent little temptress’ mouth. She was batting her eyelashes, looking as pure as ever. She looked as if she had a heart of gold, the most chaste looking girl with the filthiest mind. It was some sort of sexual awakening for her; ever since that afternoon spent with Grayson all she could think about was how he tasted, how he would feel wrapped around her hot mouth.

“Don’t you want to,” she paused, finding the right words to say, “feel my lips around you?” He could tell that she was new to this but he didn’t mind one bit. It turned him on so much just hearing her voice all needy.

Their eyes met again and he couldn’t resist his temptress much longer as he became speechless. Grayson groaned as he watched her unbutton his trousers and pull them down, exposing his hard cock strained against his black Calvin Kleins. The wetness in her panties leaked down her thighs at the sight of him. She could tell that he’s been waiting for this. For her to finally touch him where he needed her most.

Grayson grabbed her chin and lifted her lips to meet his one last time before she went down again. The kiss was wet and sloppy, the sounds of smacking and sucking disturbed the still silence in the kitchen.

Y/N didn’t waste any time, using her fingers to hook into the elastic of his boxers and swiftly pull it down. His cock sprang free and it grazed her nose slightly, causing his lips to part at the tiny touch.

She was on her knees now, just staring at him. Her mouth was watering at the sight of his long heavy cock. She was so desperate to lick it but she was so entranced with how it looked. So pink, the tip almost red with drops of precum leaking from it.

“Come on Y/N, I want to feel myself down your tight little throat.” His voice was oozing sexiness. It was so hoarse and low which urged her to grab his thickness, pumping it slowly. She could feel every detail of his cock, from his velvety skin to the ridges of his veins. Her thumb went up to the tip to spread his precum over the tip and she could hear his breaths speeding up. She licked her lips, spitting into her hand, smearing it up and down his cock.

“Where the fuck did you learn that from?” He was surprised; he never thought a girl like her would know what to do.

“Watching... stuff.” A genuine smile caused her lips to tilt and look up at him. He was trying extremely hard to restrain himself and she could feel his desperation emitting from his labored breaths.

Y/N had watched filth for the first time after Grayson made her squirt. She couldn’t help it. She became so frustrated yet she found that she came her hardest purely from the thought of him. This young lady didn’t need the sights of other people fucking to satisfy her. She quickly realised this as she let out a scream of ecstasy one night, simply from the thought of his fingers.

“I never knew my girl was so dirty,” yet he recognised that there was some kind of carnal quality about Y/N. Something that caused his mind to wonder too many times during the day.

He wasn’t expecting it when he felt her wet tongue make contact with his cock. She was tracing it along one of his prominent veins, going from the base making her way to the tip. She could feel it pulsing on the surface of her tongue as she trailed it upwards. She licked the precum off from his slit and kissed it tenderly. He let out an animalistic growl at the feeling of her soft lips on his cock. He almost came on her face when she did that.

Slipping her tongue out of her mouth, she wrapped her lips around his eager looking tip. The taste of his cock made her taste buds tingle and her eyes to widen. He tasted salty yet there was a small undertone of sweetness which lingered on her lips. She used her hand to pump the rest of his length as she began to take more and more of him into her mouth. His cock was still sticky from her spit and she loved how it felt so smoothly against her palm.

She had been dreaming of this; wondering what it would be like for him to fill her desperate little mouth. It was a kind of satisfaction she needed, not exactly for her, but for him. She craved to feel his seed shoot through her throat.

“Y/N,” was all that escaped Grayson’s parted lips as he felt her go deeper, taking almost half of him already.

She was pleased to see him like this. It gave her great pleasure to see this man writhe because of her. She smiled against his cock and he felt her lips tilt and he looked down at the beautiful sight before him. Her eyes were peering up at him, the light reflecting off them and they looked almost glossy, filling with tears of pleasure. Her lips were wrapped tightly around him as if she were used to it and her hands pumped him as if she knew what kind of effect she had on him. She smiled once again at him, increasing the speed of her hand and shoved his length deeper into her.

It was when he felt his tip hit the back of her throat that he knew he was about to cum. He used his hand to grab her face again right before he burst down her throat. He pulled her face up to his and attached their lips together roughly, their teeth clashing. His tongue immediately entered hers and he could taste the saltiness of his cock that remained on her lips. But, she pulled away all too quickly.

“Grayson,” her breath was rapid. “I want to feel,” she was peppering soft kisses right next to his ear lobe. “Your cum,” she bit into his lobe, pulling at it. “Down my throat.” His breath hitched as the words escaped her sweet lips. He was surprised at her enthusiasm today but what just came out of her mouth made his cock jerk.

Y/N was back on her knees in seconds, desperate for the man of her dreams to explode in her mouth. She was pumping his cock so rapidly and her lips were sucking so hard that he let out a vulgar moan. It was low and raspy but it was so loud. And it kept her going, encouraging her to take him deeper and thrust her hand faster.

He tried so hard to let her be, but he had to move his hands to grip her hair, now fucking her needy little mouth. He was careful not to go too deep though, not knowing that was all she wanted. She wanted to take all of him as her moans and shrieks vibrated against his rock hard cock. Grayson loved pulling her hair and he enjoyed every second of his fingers intertwining with her hair and moving her head up and down against his shaft.

Tears began to well up in her eyes as he pushed inside her mouth, getting rougher with each thrust. It was a whole new experience for her but she loved every second of it.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” his breaths were heaving, “Your mouth is so pretty wrapped around my cock like that.”

She moaned at his kind words, the way it rolled off his tongue as if he wasn’t fucking her throat. The vibrations in her mouth were what set the stream of cum to spill inside her. He let out a brash moan as he felt his seed shooting out and into her tightness.

Y/N took it all. She loved the feeling of his cum trickling down her throat. There were strands of hair stuck to his forehead as he glistened in front of her while the sweat from his head dripped to his eyebrow. She only just noticed his red cheeks and his pink lips. He looked so handsome.

“I can’t wait to cum inside you.” Grayson pulled her closer as his hands gripped her waist.

“I-” Y/N was cut off by the sound of the front door unlocking, panic now in her eyes. She immediately flung her arms up to her hair, combing the tangled mess while Grayson pulled his pants up and buckled his belt. They were both frantic, fixing each other’s appearance. But within the midst of tidying themselves, Grayson leaned in to give her one last kiss, just a small peck filled with the softness of his lips, before heading towards the front door.

Y/N stood there, still. She watched as his tall body stepped out of the kitchen as she heard her parents greet him at the door only to say goodbye to him. Still dazed, she pat down her dress and wiped her mouth once more, welcoming her parents back with the taste of his cum still remaining on her tongue.

The night was dark yet the brightness of the full moon shone it’s bright blue tint onto the summer foliage. It was the perfect summer night for a cooling swim.

Y/N had been busy all day long. Driving her parents to the airport and running countless amount of errands made her extremely flustered. She didn’t think of Grayson once all day, and perhaps it was good for her. Her heavenly fantasies with this man were slowly creeping away and she felt somewhat different.

The humid summer evening was relaxing for her. She slipped off her t-shirt and shorts, exposing her in the most revealing bikini that she owned. She’d been dying to wear all summer. She would have already worn it if it wasn’t for parents. The fact that they would judge her or might even suspect something about her recent sexual encounters deferred her from showing off her body until she was completely alone.

She stepped into the pool, the tones of blue reflecting onto her face as she fully submerged her body into the warm water. It was a bright full moon tonight; the fact that it was around ten slipped her mind due to the bright illumination of the moon.

Despite the distractions which halted her fantasies, Y/N would occasionally steal glances at Grayson’s window when she knew his house was empty. Both their houses were empty.

She could hear the mellow sounds of crickets gently filling the air as she floated along the stillness of the pool. She hadn’t had a night quite like this during the summer. She was busy the whole time and she barely had any time to herself. And now that she was all alone, all she could think about was Grayson. How his muscles flexed and how his lips felt like pillows. She truly was infatuated with him and she was ashamed to admit that she was still aching for his cock.

She let out a sigh as she stepped out of the pool. Her wet body was glistening against the beams of the moon. The droplets of water stuck to her skin and her baiting suit was now clinging to her hardened nipples.

Grayson was surprised to see her out there, all wet and glistening for him. He had just got back from the gym only to see Y/N looking as beautiful as ever. He could basically feel the adrenaline in his veins spike up again at the sight of her perfection. The tip of his cock twitched as he observed her taking a towel and running it over her body. From her shoulders, down to her plump breasts then through her velvety thighs.

The light seeped through his windows and illuminated his tanned skin perfectly. Every crevice of his torso shadowed by the darkness, accentuating the hardness of his skin.

Y/N got rather aroused at touching herself just then. The idea of having Grayson take her in the pool was something that made her mind wander back to the lust-filled tangents that she had been having. She happened to get so aroused that she turned straight away to head to her bedroom, the place where she would relieve herself of these dirty thoughts. Though, she sighed because she knew that she would never be fully satisfied with just her fingers.

As she turned she noticed that a Grayson’s window lit up light up, a silhouette of the muscular man watching her intensely. It gave her flashbacks to when they eyed each other during her party a couple weeks ago. The first time she that had ever had dirty thoughts for a man. She smirked, knowing how filthy she’s become after a few weeks of desire.

And so, with her filthy mind taking over, she continued to bend down, drying the droplets off her legs, knowing damn well that Grayson’s eyes were still glued to her body. Her mouth curved upwards as she drew her arms back to untie her bikini top, revealing her juicy looking breasts and her hard little nipples. With a wide smile, she stared at him, almost taunting him. She just stood there, all confident and willing like she had no idea how it affected him.

He was not expecting such a bold move to come out from someone so innocent looking like Y/N. Yet he knew her, she was needy and expecting nothing more than his cock inside her. Admittedly, he too was desperate to feel her write around him. No matter how badly Grayson wanted her – completely aware of their age gap – he would always be tempted by her.

And with that, he didn’t hesitate to leave his room, not bothering to put a shirt on, and pace right out of his front door to her porch.

She heard her doorbell go off multiple times, knowing exactly who it was. The dinging of the bell was fast and frantic and she could tell that he was as desperate for her as she was for him.

With a grin, she opened the door to a heaving Grayson, his bare chest was rising up and down at a rapid pace and the bulge was prominent in his grey sweats. She parted her lips to welcome him in but he pushed her inside, closing the door shut and spinning her to slam her petite frame against the door.

“You want the whole neighborhood to see your tits?” Her cheeks began to redden after he scolded her for her recklessness, she was far too excited to put her shirt on. Despite his livid tone he couldn’t help but feel his cock rise higher at the view in front of him.

“Mm, you look delicious.” He murmured against her neck, his warm breath sending tingles down her spine right to her throbbing pussy. His tone softened and so did his face.

A shriek came out of her mouth as he cupped her tender breast into his large hands. He bought his lips to one of her nipples while his hand remained on her other one. The way his tongue moved against her caused tiny little moans to escape her tender lips. He was sucking it hard. Oh, how he loved how perfect she was, her skin was so soft and her tits fit so perfectly in his palm.

“Grayson! I need you inside me, please.” Her begging eyes caused his cock to grow even more, it filled his heart with such a powerful adoration which made his heart to skip a beat.

Their lips crashed together again as he grabbed her thighs and lifted her up, his arms bulging yet she felt as light as a feather. Y/N took this opportunity to rub herself against his hard torso, she could feel every detail and crevice of his abs and it made her legs tingle. She could feel his rough grasp on her thighs getting tighter, her breasts rubbing against his chest causing the buds of nipples to get hard.

She had been fantasizing about this moment ever since she laid eyes on him, and even more since he gave her her first ever orgasm. It was inevitable that these two would find a way to become fully intimate each other after that afternoon. And without raising anyone’s suspicions too.

The shirt that Grayson wore began to get imprints of her wet, needy pussy, her rubbing making him want to devour her. And so, Grayson walked over to the staircase with long strides and carried her upstairs. While he did so she whispered sweet nothings into his ear as she fit her head perfectly in his neck; “I want you so badly Grayson,” and “you’re all that I’ve been thinking about” slipped from her tongue in breathy moans. She held him tightly, feeling his body pressed up against hers was such a wonderful feeling.

How he knew where her bedroom was slipped her mind, a mystery to her, but he opened her door and the scent engulfed his body entirely. The smell of summer berries and honey filled his senses as he gently set her down on the bed where she had came multiple times at the thought of the man before her.

Her room was dark yet it was dimly lit by the moon. The iridescence reflected off her skin and it made her look almost dreamlike; the glowing little lady that was about to get fucked so hard by a man years older than her.

Y/N was a moaning mess, the loss of his touch caused her to wrap her arms around his neck and attach their lips again in a passionate and heated kiss. The way her fingers traced down his chest to his bulge made his knees go weak.

Grayson took this opportunity to slip his pants down which uncovered his strained cock against his grey boxers. In her eyes, it was somehow bigger than the last time she’d seen it. Perhaps it was how the moonlight played tricks against the shadows, but she knew that he was large.

“Are you sure baby?” His words were barely a whisper, almost afraid that she would be having second thoughts about this. He would never force himself on anyone, no matter how badly he desired them.

“Please, Grayson.” She was so desperate, so eager to feel his cock around her.

At this point, she didn’t even realise that she had been touching herself, gliding her fingers across her clit as he stood there before her. It was a marvelous sight which made him let out a happy sigh. He would love to just gawk at her trying to make herself cum, but he knew that he would be the one to make her cum the hardest.

And with that, he pushed her shoulders down onto the bed, causing her to lay down completely with her beautiful legs spread out for him. He untied the strings of her swimsuit bottoms, exposing her glistening pussy against the glimmer of the moonlight. It looked so shiny, hot and ready for him.

He couldn’t resist delving into her and using his tongue to lick up one long strip of her juices. The one stroke ignited a hot trail that caused her to moan from excitement. Just his tender touch on her pussy caused her mind to race with thoughts of him actually inside her. Her desperate desire caused her fingers to lock themselves in his chocolate tresses and pull his face up to hers, staring deep into the shadows in his eyes.

“I want-”

“Trust me, baby.” He knew that she was eager, but he wanted to prepare her first. He wanted nothing but to hear her screaming from pleasure, but she needed to be ready first.

Swiftly, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips and slid his lead down towards her hot pussy again. It was so wet, just how he loved it. He used his fingers to trace along her lips, opening her slightly to thrust his tongue inside her, feeling the slippery folds against his tongue.

Without warning he began to insert his finger into her unpenetrated pussy, immersing himself inside her. The tip of his finger had barely entered her yet she was already squirming, waiting for the feeling of his full length.

“More, Grayson.”

Smirking, he slowly slipped his thick finger in as she moaned his name. The way her pussy gripped his fingers was a whole different sensation that she wanted to feel every day. The new feeling was increased when he started to draw his finger back out then sent it back in, slowly and gently.

“Does that feel good Y/N?”

She let a small “fuck” slip out of her mouth as he increased his speed ever so slightly, going at a passionate pace which drove her insane. He hovered his mouth over her sweetness and she could feel his hot breaths on the spot that she needed him most, adding to the warmth radiating from her. But he suddenly pressed his lips against her core, kissing her clit with a gentle touch before devouring her.

His tongue thrashed and sucked over her neediness. It was like a dream to her, her dazed mind was so overwhelmed with the feelings of pleasure. His arms flexed and the veins were prominent against the shadows as he continued to insert another finger inside, his growing faster.

The humming in his voice caused her legs to shake. She was so ready to erupt on his yet he stopped, crawled up to her face and stared down at her beauty. She was shocked at the sudden loss of contact but just barely seeing his face in the darkness made her smile. She knew that he was staring down at her, admiring her features against the dimness of the room.

“I’m going to fuck you now.” She could hear the smirk on his lips. He bought his face up to her neck to start sucking on her skin, something that he loved to do. “And you’re going to cum so hard for me Y/N.” He was now biting her lightly. “Because you deserve it, baby.”

Their lips met once again. They opened their mouths for each other and explored their tongues for a moment before Grayson pulled away, the hem of his boxers were on his fingers. It sprung up like last time. She recalled every vein and how each of them felt inside her warm mouth and she so wished to feel every detail of him once he was inside of her.

He pumped his length right in front of her. A slow pace which still showcased the thick vein which trailed down from his shoulder to his wrist. He could honestly could have came just by jerking himself off with the sight of the wonderful girl waiting for him that was observing his every move.

But he stopped, knowing that he wouldn’t last long if he kept touching himself, and he bent down to caress her sweet slit with his cock in his hand. She was a whimpering mess and he could feel her need just but pressing his cock against her clit. It was throbbing. Yet without hesitation, he lined himself up to her hole, moaning a little at the thought of being so close to being inside her. It was something that he couldn’t comprehend. The way her eyes looked up at him made him let out a growl.

Pushing the tip in, he could hear her shaky breaths and he couldn’t tell if they were from nerves or excitement.

“I want you deep inside me Grayson.” She practically yelled with desperation in her tone.

That was when he started to push in and she moaned at how she could feel the crevices of his veins against her hot cunt. He was only half way and she felt nothing but pleasure, the feeling of his girth and the sight of his contorting face initiated a string of moans which faded into the darkness of the room.

Grayson was reluctant to go all the way in, but the sound of her voice encouraged him, sliding all of him in her wet tightness. He couldn’t believe that he was fucking her, the innocent girl next door.

“Does that feel good baby?”

“Yes- more.” Her words were shaky.

Her eyes were closed, savoring the sweet sensation of his full length inside her. Gently, he pulled out of her aching core and pushed inside again, pacing himself. But the slow, soft thrusts didn’t last long when she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled roughly at him.

He started to thrust faster, the whimpers of her soft voice were slowly being masked by the slapping sound made when their pelvis’ would touch. They were completely overcome with the feelings of pleasure. Her tightness surrounding his cock, feeling every inch of his masculinity aching against her walls. Their warm breaths mingled together as their eyes met in the dim light of the room.

Grayson could see the lust in her dark eyes, but that little sparkle of sincerity caused him to go deeper as she silently screamed in his ear. Sweat began to run down her forehead, the humidity of the summer made her skin deliciously sticky. It felt like their skin was meant to press against each other, feeling the slight tackiness of their bodies.

“You don’t know how badly I want to feel your cum around my cock, Y/N.”

They were face to face again, their eyes roaming each other’s features. He let out a low grown as he saw her eyebrows scrunching as her pleading eyes grew wide once he hit a certain spot. She was so beautiful to him like this. It was just something about her big eyes looking up through her lashes that made his cock twitch inside of her. She looked so needy for his cock.

“You know,” he slowed down to get his words out. “You look so fucking pretty when you’re taking my cock.” Then he took her lips in his again, quickly slipping his tongue inside her warm mouth. “I can’t wait to see your face when you cum for me.”

Y/N’s mouth was open, letting out the loud whimpers as she knew he hit her most delicate spot. It sent tingles from her spine to her feet, causing her toes to curl as she continued to feel her g-spot getting rammed by the beautiful man on top of her.

It was almost as if she was completely about to let go when she let out a loud shriek when he forcefully pulled her to the edge of the bed. He stood up and lifted both her legs up towards her chest and now he was deeper than ever. With every thrust, he could graze her most needy spot which made her eyes roll back every time.

Grayson was slowly becoming less gentle with her, knowing that a dirty girl like her would love the feeling of his balls slapping against her ass.

He heaved all of his length into her at an undeniably fast pace. Her squeals and screams were music to his ears and it encouraged him to pound her harder. She could feel the orgasm building up in her stomach and she was so consumed by the pleasure that a tear slipped out of her eye. Doing this was something that evoked a tremendous amount of emotion, yet the reason she was getting teary-eyed was that of the amount of sweet, sweet pleasure she was receiving.

She felt like it was a rough stroke of electricity. The kind of sensation that she would get just as she would fall from a great height of a roller-coaster. The feeling in her caused a yell to come out of her strained mouth as she gushed on his thick cock.

Grayson felt her legs shake against his thighs and he could see that her back was arched. He could barely see her beautiful face but he could make out her furrowed eyebrows, twitching eyelids, and open mouth. This right there was the most beautiful sight that he’d ever seen.

It was like a feeling of accomplishment for him. How his heart would beat just a tad faster at the thought that he could get his girl to scream like that, to become so overwhelmed that she squirted.

Y/N could feel herself spouting all over him now, pulling his cock out to let it all out. She could imagine seeing his smirking face and how he would be completely back inside her in a matter of moments.

And, just as she thought that he would give her another few seconds to release, he was back inside her. The way her legs shook against him aroused him even more. He just wanted to make her cum again, harder than ever before.

Grayson felt so much pleasure inside her; he wouldn’t complain if he could just stay inside her snug channel forever. Just the thought of him spending ‘forever’ with her made his heart skip a beat.

“Grayson!”

She was way too overwhelmed by the pleasure and overstimulation, but she loved every second of it. “Fuck, just like that.” He trusted upwards, reaching the untouched depths of her pussy as she screamed at his compliance.

And that was when he felt the sudden rush of pleasure in his stomach, pulsing its way to his hard cock. Spurts of his cum shot up into her, lusciously coating her inside.

His orgasm causes her to do the same. Their cum mingled together inside her; she could feel the stickiness and she loved it. Her walls continued to squeeze him until she had every had drop of his seed inside her.

Oh, how he loved the feeling of his aching cock giving her everything that he had! Then he slipped himself out of her, eyeing the cum that dripped out of her hole, completely satisfied.

“I can’t wait to fill you with my cum every night, Y/N.” He kissed her ever so tenderly. His voice was sweet and innocent which completely contrasted the filthy words that slipped out of his mouth.

They were both breathing heavily, their naked bodies now intertwined. Their sticky figures laid there in the room which was dimly lit by the beams of the moon.

They barely spoke then; only admiring the beautiful sight of each other against the same moonlight that glowed on them when they used to lay in their own beds, touching themselves to the thought of each other.

#please read it i worked hard on this #grayson dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan imagine #graysondolan x reader #dolan twins #dolansmut #ethandolan #ethan dolan smut #ethan dolan one shot #grayson dolan oneshot #dolantwinsmut #ethan dolan

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vuelie-frost · 5 years

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F2: How do we cope?

So I’m someone who has a moderate dose of anxiety in her life, which is being combatted through therapy, medication, & learning healthy coping mechanisms. I’m no expert, but I have some experience dealing with strong negative emotions. One strategy I’ve been recommended is asking yourself, in any given anxiety-riddled situation, “What’s the worst-case scenario that could happen?” This brings you out of your own head- out of hypotheticals- and into the concrete.

Don’t get me wrong, it can be painful to think about. But it can be helpful to see where our biggest fears lie. And if you’re interested in alleviating those strong negative emotions, it’s a necessary step.

I’ve said before that I’m trying to stay open-minded and optimistic about this movie. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have fears and concerns. For me personally, my biggest "worst that can happen” theories for the ending of Frozen 2 are:

- The sisters never see each other again (with a heart-shattering goodbye scene that makes us all inconsolable) - Elsa loses her humanity to become a spirit/goddess, essentially intangible and immortal - Elsa is no longer called “Queen Elsa” in the franchise, invalidating a huge historic part of her identity - Elsa doesn’t attend Anna’s coronation because she’s “too busy” doing other shit - Disney+ makes a spin-off TV series with Elsa going on adventures (just please... no.)

(please don’t chime in with what you guys think about those ideas, at least in this post, whether they’re right or wrong... that’s not the point.)

So what if any, if all, of these things happen? What next?

Stuff not to do (I mean, do whatever you want, but these probably won’t be very helpful)

- oversleeping as a defense mechanism - eating your feelings - drinking/using substances to numb pain - stew and ruminate on the internet with people who only get your sadness and anger riled up - spend all day on the internet - engage in maladaptive compulsive behaviors (oh, hello dermatillomania. great to see you again.) - completely avoid feeling your feelings - making impulse decisions (don’t go buy a car just because “Frozen 2 sucks, the world is meaningless.”) - rant to Jen/Chris/the creative team at Disney on Twitter (which is different from an honest review of the movie, which I’m sure they’d be more receptive to)

Stuff to do

1) Grieve the movie we longed for.

This might sound dramatic and my inner critic is constantly chiding me with “It’s literally a movie for kids, why are you so bonded to it?” But that’s totally unhelpful here. It doesn’t matter why or how, but most of us in the fandom feel a deep connection to the first movie. It’s not exaggeration to say that IF the sequel crushes us, it could be emotionally devastating. Grief is complex, individualized, and weird to work through... but it’s real, and if it’s something we need to face in order to move forward, 2) Decide how tightly to hold onto the franchise.

Something being canon doesn’t mean we have an obligation to internalize it. How many franchises before have whittled their stories down to C-rated TV shows and average spinoffs? Do we accept all of them wholeheartedly?

Granted, this is hard to write about because there’s a slight cognitive dissonance that has to happen for us to disbelieve the sequel of any story. But regardless, determining your relationship to the narrative is a deeply personal choice- one that can’t be decided for you. If my worst-case scenarios happen for F2, I’m probably going to maintain my complete love for the first movie... and pretend the sequel is an AU. Or extrapolation. Accept that it exists as the canon progression, but reject its meaning in my life.

3) Get off the internet.

This is probably the best possible thing to do when the online world is causing you strife and stress. Tumblr has a tendency to be an echo-chamber; I actually only recently rejoined after a long loooong hiatus for that reason. Despite what boomers want you to think, the internet’s not inherently toxic. But despite all its good, it’s also highly curated, completely biased, full of half-truths, and a fantastic vehicle for rumors.

Also realize that until November 22, anything and everything Frozen 2-related that’s released by Disney is going to make you psychoanalyze the content for clues on how to feel. We’ll all become obsessed, deranged Sherlocks in our own right. Don't let it consume you.

4) Creatively output your thoughts & feelings

Headcanons, AUs, derivative work, fan fiction, fan art all serve us well (and are way healthier than like, downing an entire chocolate cake in sadness.) I’m an artist and you bet your biscuits I’ll be sketching Elsa for weeks and WEEKS before & after the premiere. It’s just how I process things.

Another thing I’ve decided I’m going to do if any of my worst-case scenario fears are realized is: write letters to the sisters as if they were real people. Talk to them about the ending. Jen Lee kept journals writing to/from the girls when they were conceptualizing the movie; I think there’s merit in letting the characters speak for themselves.

5) Employ your favorite coping mechanisms

These are personal to you, but could include:

- meditation - working out or exercising - yoga - writing/drawing (see above point) - making coffee or tea & relax in bed with a book - talk to someone about it, bonus points if it’s someone in the “real world” - take a walk outside - use breathing exercises - take a hot bath or shower - clean your room/house/apartment - put on music - cook - play with a pet - do something with a friend Note that all of these have to do with the external world. Distraction doesn’t heal us by itself (which is why denial is a poor way of dealing with shit,) but it helps our brains reset in the background. It sets the rest of the world into perspective, so that we can more effectively face our negative emotions later. Remember, there’s nothing wrong with putting off processing until you’ve done something helpful or enriching. “Listen brain, we can cry later, right now I’m going to bake pumpkin cookies and you can’t stop me.”

6) Remember story is told to connect us with the real world

The idea of escapism is a bit paradoxical, because in pursuing a fantasy world, we’re only working to realize our desires in the real world. The reason we love Frozen so much is because we want that kind of love in our own lives... and the fairy tale reminds us that it’s real. Idealized and sanitized by The Mouse, sure, but it’s real.

It may be painful to acknowledge but: we don’t need Elsa, Anna, Kristoff, or Olaf in order to flourish. Fiction exists to affect us in the real world. Frozen is one story among many- MANY!- that have the potential to sculpt your own personal future. That’s not to say it doesn’t retain a deep meaningful significance for us. I’m going to hold the first movie in my heart forever, that I know for sure. But its reasons for being great are because it plants us in reality. Can you imagine a beautiful young woman with the ability to freeze ice? Maybe that’s not plausible. But an undying, fiercely loyal commitment between two women? Hell yeah. 7) Recognize idolization & parasocial relationships where they may be... and start to heal them

This is heavy stuff that might require a professional to help you sort through- but if you’re truly suffering, paralyzed, or flung into a depressive episode due to any life circumstance (including a movie sequel,) it’s not silly to seek help in order to move forward.

Parasocial relationships are perceived relationships where the other party (usually a celebrity, in terms of celebrity worship) doesn’t know you. Fictional worlds can fall into this category as well. It’s a one-side relationship that feels unbalanced when the other party does something we don't like. This is a studied topic I’m not super knowledgable on, but here are some links to more information if you’re interested: Why We Get So Attached To Fictional Characters by Kimberly Truong

Parasocial Relationships with Fictional Characters in Therapy by Kathleen Gannon

Parasocial Break-Up from Favorite Television Characters: The Role of Attachment Styles and Relationship Intensity by Jonathan Cohen

Our fictional friends: Parasocial interaction and relationships in an evolving media world by Carri Romm - - - Also: I love you guys. <3 I love being in the Frozen fandom. It’s all going to be okay.

#frozen 2 leaks #frozen 2 spoilers #frozen 2

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moonb-eam · 4 years

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Hi! I just started reading your fics. You're such an amazing writing. Do you have any writing advice? Also what books/movies/TV shows have influenced your writing?

ahh hello darling!! 🧡🧡🧡 these are such lovely questions thank you so much!!

okay, so i answered a fanfic ask about writing advice here a little while ago, but i’ll reiterate a few points, and add some new ones!!

i do want to say that these tips are just my opinion, and writing, like any other form of art, is so specific in process to each individual writer that what works for me definitely won’t work for everyone 🧡

(these are going to be very general and conceptual, but if you’d like some more technical “craft” advice then please let me know!!)

1. i’m going to keep repeating this until i die - the most important thing is to write, as basic as that sounds! i know some people who write every single day - i don’t, i find that exhausting - but i do try to write as often as i can, even if it’s something i observe on the bus to work that i write down on my phone, or it’s a single line for an opening of a new story. for me personally, i find it important to keep that part of my brain exercised, which is actually why i started writing fan fiction in the first place - so i could make deadlines for myself and keep writing in the midst of a terribly depressing job search, so i don’t lose that part of myself.

2. now, that being said, there are some days where writing just straight up doesn’t work. i sit down at my laptop and i have no words inside of myself, and it’s so frustrating when that happens, especially when you only have certain times of the day/week/month dedicated to writing. when that happens, i don’t force it. i have a friend in edinburgh who bakes every time he’s frustrated with a story - he says it always helps him to methodically create something and see it come to fruition, so he doesn’t feel so mentally stuck whenever he returns to his story. i have another friend who draws whenever she hits a writing snag. for myself, i like to go for runs whenever that happens - it helps me clear my head and sometimes, gives me new ideas. writing is something that doesn’t just happen at the computer or the notebook. it’s happening constantly, with the media you consume, the interactions you observe, the new words you learn, the fragments of ideas that pass through your mind. so yes, the actual writing of the words is critical, but so are all the other parts, and above all, it’s so important to take care of your mental state before anything else.

3. it’s also important to read a lot!!! there is no better inspiration that consuming the work of authors you really love and admire! i pretty well always have a book on me, and in the rare moments that i don’t, you know i’ve got ao3 loaded on my phone

4. rules and conventions exist for a few reasons, and one of those reasons is so they can be broken. so often young writers are told time and time again to find their “voice” or their distinct writing style, and what can happen is they feel pressured into boxing themselves up so early in their career - for example, in my master’s program, i wrote mostly science fiction, and was essentially labelled “science fiction girl” - that’s not necessarily a bad thing, because i love sci-fi, but i felt like i could never step outside of that box, because the people in my workshop would say, “this doesn’t feel like you” - but i didn’t even know who i was as a writer at that point, and honestly i still don’t - writing fan fiction has actually been really good for me to experiment with my prose and see how readers react to it. what i’m saying is, try something new, try whatever interests you, whatever you think may be cool, and if it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t, but don’t let yourself be swayed by what you think people may want to see from you. does that make sense? always remember that you’re writing for yourself before anyone else

5. the “don’t be afraid to write badly” advice is overused, but that’s because it’s important. i have a bad habit of self-editing as a write, which means writing a first draft can take me ages. sometimes, the best thing you can do is try to let go, and just let yourself put the words down without overanalyzing them. i described it in a group chat as “no thoughts, only words” asdfjkdf - when i first started in my workshop in edinburgh, i was terrified to write anything that wasn’t perfect, as though i would be judged for it. but the best thing you can do, is to show unfinished, imperfect work to people you trust. it is inherently embarrassing to share your writing, to let people see the inside of your heart, more or less, but it is the best way to improve - to get feedback, and to take it into consideration for your own work. not all feedback is good feedback, but all of it should be listened to! (conversely, if you’re ever asked for feedback, it’s so important to learn the distinction between being critical and being constructive)

6. this is getting quite long 😬 so i think i’ll do just one more - in the midst of practicing writing, receiving feedback, drafting and editing, i think it’s important to remember that, on a base level, what we do is tell stories, and that’s something that is really special. the act of writing isn’t always fun. editing certainly isn’t always fun, but telling stories is. finding new ways to look at the world is. discovering something new about a character is. what i mean to say is, get excited about your own work. get excited by your own ideas. those moments of excitement, for me, always help to carry me through some of the rougher bits

and now for a bit of inspiration!!

there are a lot of writers whose work i really admire - i would never say i’m as good as them asdfjk but i think they all have influenced me in one way or another

for novelists, i’m really inspired by madeleine miller, erin morgenstern, cherie dimaline, maggie stiefvater, leigh bardugo, ursula leguin, kurt vonnegut, mary shelley, shirley jackson, thomas king and kazuo ishiguro

then there are some writers who do short stories and more experimental work, who have influenced me more in the last year or so: helen mcclory (i highly recommend everyone check out her work!!), shane jones (specifically the short novel light boxes), leanne shapton, and susannah m. smith (specifically the fairy tale museum)

and poets!! anne carson, richard siken, pablo neruda, amanda lovelace, i know there are more i’m forgetting....damn it

then there are a few illustrators/comic artists whose work really inspires me, such as tom gauld, emily carroll, tove jansson (moomins!!) and again i just know there are more i can’t think of!!! 😫

okay, okay lastly film and tv: i love any work by guillermo del toro, jane campion, alfred hitchcock, hayao miyazaki (so i LOVE your icon!!) and joe wright (except the peter pan film...we don’t talk about that...) i also think phoebe waller-bridge and dan levy are such stellar tv writers and i am very, very jealous of them - and OF COURSE skam, and all its iterations 🧡

(and if you browse through my “fic rec” tag on here, everything on there is from incredibly talented writers!!)

alright this got very long, I'm sorry about that!! but i hope there’s something in here that speaks to you in some way ✨ best of luck to you in your writing, and please drop by my inbox anytime if you’d like to talk more about it!! 😚

#asks #barsofambrosia #long post #writing #thank you again for the questions!!#❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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yuurisolympicgold · 7 years

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Yuuri Week 2017, Day 1: Terra Incognita Title: 91 Days of Winter Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Vicchan, Victor Nikiforov. Pairing: Yuuri/Victor. Genres/Tags: Romance, Fluff, Anxiety, Depression, Seasonal Depression, AU. Rating/Warnings: T/None. Summary: What if Vicchan had lived? Or, Yuuri and his “Two Victors.”

Winter used to be Yuuri’s least favorite season. He supposed it was ironic, considering he spent most of his life on ice; a place he also felt at home, competing in a winter sport.

Perhaps it was because of where he’d grown up. Winters could be harsh, but they didn’t usually last long. Then the cherry blossoms would bloom in spring, the onsen would once again be busy, the town would be bustling with activity and festivals. To Yuuri--when spring came and washed the bleakness and murk of winter away--it was like coming home.

Winter was none of those things. The shorter days made him feel tired constantly, competition season was a source of stress; he spent so many of those days in an anxious fog. Too much snow prevented travel and he felt even more isolated than he had those first few months after his move to Detroit. Something bad always seemed to happen during winter. Now he was going to lose his beloved dog who he hadn’t even seen in five years.

Vicchan was yet another someone Yuuri had let down.

Yuuri wasn’t there for him... he never even got a chance to say goodbye, to tell him how much he loved and missed him. He wondered if Vicchan really remembered him sometimes. He’d seen him plenty of times while video chatting with Mari, but Vicchan probably just wondered why he wasn’t there.

Today was the free skate for the Sochi Grand Prix Final. It was surreal to think that after his short program he was sitting in possible medal contention. He was currently fourth, below Cao Bin and Christophe Giacometti. Victor of course led the field by a large margin.

Days leading up to any competition he typically spent in a haze. To alleviate the feeling he tried to focus on a singular purpose, but it worsened when news of Vicchan’s accident reached him. It wasn’t until his coach nudged him that he remembered where he was--what he was supposed to be doing.

“Yuuri,” Celestino called out to him. “It’s your sister.”

Yuuri suddenly felt like he didn’t know how to get up. He felt his weight sink further into the bench he found in an isolated corridor of the arena. For a moment he simply stared at the item his coach held out to him--my own phone, his brain dimly reminded.

Hesitantly he pushed off the bench and forced his body into motion, accepting the device. He was vaguely aware of his coach watching over him as he held it up to his ear. He opened his mouth to speak--to greet her, to say something, but no words would come.

“Yuuri?” Mari must have heard his breathing. She called his name one more time and sighed. His heart sank and his throat closed up further.

“Listen to me, Yuuri,” Her voice held a firmness but recent stress and emotion gave it a shake. “He’s going to be okay, do you hear me? Vicchan... he’s fine.”

Yuuri choked, palm slapping over his mouth and muting his gasp. He was now aware of Celestino’s hand on his shoulder, firm and bracing.

Mari only paused a beat before continuing.

“He is roughed up, but he’s okay. He has to wear a cast for awhile. The vet also has him wearing a cone so he doesn’t muck with the stitches... he’s a little trooper,” She said with a fond chuckle if a bit watery.

Yuuri still couldn’t say anything. His grasp around the phone tightened. Once again he wished he was there.

“I can’t believe...” Mari sniffed and cleared her throat before continuing, “I mean, he nearly gets himself mauled by a car and basically gets back up like it was nothing. He probably considers it a good day too; sort of like a certain stubborn little brother of mine... he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel yet.”

“I--” Yuuri finally managed to get his brain to work and form words. Actual words. He felt like the fog pressing against his thoughts wasn’t so heavy. “He--He’s really okay?”

Mari hummed across the line.

“He’s comfortable at home now, if still sleepy from the anesthesia, but he’ll be watching you perform too,” She confirmed. She paused before adding one more thing.

“Good luck, Yuuri. He really is a lot like you, you know.”

After the call ended he quietly excused himself. Celestino always understood his need for solitude. He promised he would be back in time for the warm-up skate. Then he did the same thing he’d done in a random bathroom stall, after he’d sat listening to his mom’s voice.

He broke down and cried. To no one, with naught but his thoughts for company.

Except it was different this time. Now the tears weren’t to a feeling of hopelessness and regret. Instead he cried his blessings and his thanks for this second chance. For Vicchan’s unwillingness to give up.

For Yuuri, crying wasn’t always cathartic. Many times it only worsened the pounding in his head, but this time it felt cleansing. A much needed release following the guilt and turmoil he felt over his decision to leave home in the first place with his pet’s possible death looming over him. A rain that begun the re-cultivating process after a drought.

After awhile he straightened and fixed his appearance as much as possible.

He had to skate soon after all.

“Well, Yuuri,” Celestino said, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder at the barrier. “Are you ready to once again skate your heart out for the whole of Russia?”

Yuuri nodded but didn’t really have an answer for him. He handed over his hard guards and stepped onto the ice to do his laps. On a conscious level he felt like this was something he should be panicking over. Yet instead he was in an odd state of calm and lucidity. The world looked a lot different to him now than it had a few hours ago.

Yuuri was once again about to skate on the same ice as his idol in his home country, this time with a medal on the line. He knew it wasn’t likely that he would land a spot on the podium; there were many strong skaters in the competition, aside from Victor. Skaters who had been to a Grand Prix Final before.

But this was his chance to prove that he was supposed to be here. That he hadn’t qualified in the final six by fluke or chance. It didn’t feel conceptual anymore, this was real.

If nothing else, he would do it for Vicchan. For the miracle that was his dog’s life; his perseverance and resilience--against so much adversity wrapped around such a tiny body--Yuuri would do the same. With those thoughts in mind, he glided into position at the center of the rink.

When the results rolled in he couldn’t believe it.

At his first Grand Prix Final--when he thought he was going to lose his dog, his chance to show everyone what he was truly capable of--Yuuri had won a silver medal.

After Yuuri received his medal he was immediately gathered by his coach to accept a video chat and was met with boisterous congratulations from his rinkmates at the Detroit Skating Club. Phichit was front and center, promising that next Grand Prix he would be on the podium with Yuuri. Chris, who he only edged out by less than a point, had congratulated him next--talking him into--or rather lightly coercing him into taking a selfie with their medals.

Victor, he noticed, was different after they’d left the ice, the din of the crowd far behind. He was... quiet. Yuuri had spent a lot of time fantasizing what it would be like to share a podium with him over the years. Yet it still felt like it wasn’t quite what he was expecting. When Victor noticed Yuuri staring, he flashed him a grin and wink while offering his own congratulations, like he’d seen during so many of Victor’s public appearances. Yuuri blushed and froze in place, but at the same time had a conflicting thought that the look didn’t really suit him.

These were the thoughts that occupied him at the banquet as he stood in front of a table filled with flutes of sparkling champagne. He warmed the cold glass between his fingertips, mindlessly watching the amber liquid swirl through hazy eyes. Letting out a heavy sigh he brought it to his lips and took a large gulp.

He really needed to get back. Celestino wouldn’t be happy that he’d been away from the group for so long. He'd just needed a few minutes to himself. It was overwhelming talking to so many important people, to so many people in general, but he’d been away long enough. As surreal as it was, he was a silver medalist at a Grand Prix Final. His resume was looking so much more promising.

I even have official duties now, he thought with a smile and cautious optimism.

Yuuri blinked as the blurry shape of a pale hand entered his field of vision. Deft fingers wrapped around one of the flutes in front of him before darting out of sight. He exhaled and removed his blue framed glasses, rubbing his tired eyes.

“...Yuuri Katsuki?”

His eyes shot open. Oh god...

That voice--ever loose and suggestive, standing as both a memory from childhood and an ideal he believed in--made every thought come to a screeching halt.

Yuuri made a strangled sound and nearly dropped his glass, inwardly cursing his lack of composure and inability to actually not embarrass himself. Why did he still have to act this way around him? He just shared a podium with him!

Hesitantly, he replaced his glasses and turned to face the man behind him, hoping he was at least wearing a collected expression. He doubted it.

Victor was of course as gorgeous as every physical or mental picture Yuuri had of him. Yet he looked different. Yuuri wasn’t sure if it was just the lighting. They were all exhausted after the competition and gala, but it felt like something else. It was there; thick and heavy in his expression, something familiar now that Yuuri could see up close. He was used to seeing that look. It peered back at him through a mirror often on days when he couldn’t find the energy to pull himself out of bed.

Yuuri felt his face heat up and he cleared his throat. “Um. Yes?”

Victor looked bewildered and--was his face a bit flushed?

“You, you just look very different with your glasses in person--I didn’t recognize you when you walked in,” He observed, looking contemplative.

Yuuri had the random thought that if multiverse theory was right, he hoped his parallel self was having a better time than him.

The first time he actually had a conversation with his lifelong idol and he ends up more fixated on how Yuuri looks with or without his glasses. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh in dismay or slink away upstairs and hide in his hotel room. He knew he couldn’t do that though. Celestino would drag him back bodily if needed. He was a silver medalist and ISU representatives and sponsors wanted to talk to him.

...How did this even become his life? This was officially the weirdest day.

Victor was looking at him strangely and Yuuri realized with mortification that he’d zoned out while staring for almost five minutes. The fact that Victor hadn’t walked away yet was a miracle.

“That look in your eyes just now...” Victor said, tilting his head. “It was similar to how you looked during your free skate. You look like you have a lot on your mind while you perform. Like you’re in another world.”

Yuuri thought of a lot of things while he skated. He didn’t think it would go over well if he mentioned that Victor was a frequent subject.

“Oh, umm. That’s nice,” Yuuri mumbled.

Immediately after speaking he felt like an idiot. ‘Nice?’ Really? Perhaps he could be eloquent for once in his life when the person who was both his idol and longtime crush decided to talk to him?

Victor didn’t seem to notice his internal meltdown. He looks... tired, Yuuri thought to himself again.

“You look like you’d rather be somewhere else.” Yuuri said without thinking.

“Do I?” Victor asked without inflection. “Do you want me somewhere else?” He then asked with a smirk.

“N-No, I just--”

Yuuri bit his lip. He was really going to do this, wasn’t he? There was actually some part of him that thought this was a good idea.

“Um. Victor?” He ventured, effort to speak in a firm manner in mind.

Victor raised an inquisitive brow and gestured for him to continue.

“My family runs an onsen in Hasetsu, a small harbor town. It’s a popular hotspot among tourists. You should--” Yuuri cleared his throat. “You could come? After skating season I mean. You’d be in my family’s care.”

Victor regarded him, mild incredulity creasing his brow.

“That’s a little forward between competitors, don’t you think?” He replied, expression still unhelpfully blank.

Yuuri immediately wished he could take it back.

“Or,” Victor added before he could say anything. “If you’re looking for a good word I’d be happy to tweet about it? Word of mouth is the best advertisement.”

He then smiled brightly. It was that smile combined with his wording that made Yuuri feel disturbed. There was a resigned look to his eye.

Yuuri felt his stomach plummet. His resolve was crumbling; slipping through his fingers, but he still wanted another attempt. Victor seemed so different right now. He wanted to know more about him, not what he read about. He needed to do it now, before the confidence gained from a successful competition left him.

He swallowed and tried again.

“You just--looked like you needed a break is all.”

Victor’s eyes widened.

“Anyway,” Yuuri demurred and backed away, ready to retreat. “The offer still stands... so please think about it.”

Yuuri bowed out of habit before turning and walking away. He tried, that was enough. He still had to prep for finals and finish off his last semester in Detroit next March. He still had the remaining competitions. After that... well, he hadn’t made any further decisions yet. He already skated on the same ice as Victor, what else could he do?

At least he wouldn't leave regretting that he never asked.

He didn’t notice Victor’s eyes following him until he was out of sight.

It seemed like Yuuri was in a state of constant disbelief these days. He won both Japan’s nationals and Four Continents, the latter which he’d never come in first. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d won back to back competitions. Not since his last year as a junior, before having to make the transition to seniors.

At Worlds he came in second--Victor won gold, his fifth consecutive world title-- but that wasn’t the only thing the skating world was talking about. In just a few short months, Yuuri had closed the gap between their scores since the Grand Prix Final, by a few points just under half.

Victor may have been the gold medalist--but you’d think it was Yuuri--considering how loud the crowd was when the official placed the medal around his neck. He felt humbled, light and euphoric as he waved to the crowd in his home country. He finally brought them home two medals from two of the biggest skating competitions.

At one moment he noticed Victor had stopped interacting with the fans like normal. Instead he was looking at Yuuri with an inscrutable expression, leaving Yuuri to only guess what he was thinking. He wondered briefly if he was angry.

He decided to give Victor space.

Even though he knew Vicchan would eventually make a full recovery, it wasn’t enough to put Yuuri at ease. He needed to be there, he wanted to see his family and friends. Now with his final year of college concluded and a degree to show for it, he was going home.

When Yuuri returned he was relieved to see in person that Vicchan's recovery was going well. He couldn’t embrace him fully yet, being mindful of the splint. But seeing him and touching him again after so long was enough. His little body was so warm, his personality still so lively and full to the brim with effervescence.

Mari told him that it could’ve been worse, a lot worse if the driver hadn’t seen Vicchan dart across the road when he did. The damage had been minimal.

Yuuri could tell she blamed herself. They were never touchy but he knew she cared. She had been the one to take care of Vicchan during his absence.

“It’s okay, Mari,” He said to her. “He’s going to be okay... Vicchan’s fine,” He repeated what she’d said to him and hoped he conveyed that he didn’t hold her responsible at all. It was an accident.

Mari exhaled and smiled back at him.

That summer had to be known as the ‘season of surprises,’ Yuuri decided.

Yet surprise didn’t begin to encompass the feeling a month later when Victor did show up for had been a planned week of vacation with his own poodle Makkachin. Vicchan had gained a fast friend in the full sized poodle while Victor was immediately entranced by their size difference.

Victor was different since their talk in Sochi, even more so since he’d seen him at Worlds. He was energetic, taking in the sights with childlike wonder as they walked their dogs together. It had baffled Yuuri at first, but his energy became endearing. He was so nice like this.

Victor could barely contain his excitement when he found out he shared Vicchan’s given name. He cooed to the “world’s second cutest poodle after Makkachin of course” about how they were twins. Yuuri wasn’t ready to reveal why that was just yet.

He could tell his poodle was taken with Victor too. Vicchan had always been a dog with energy to spare and it went well with Victor’s personality. Yuuri had a passing thought and wondered if excitement was a trait shared among Victors, human or dog.

Victor had apologized for his initial reaction to the invite. He’d assumed Yuuri had only wanted a plug for the onsen. He also told Yuuri it had been a long time since anyone had invited him to do something that had nothing to do with skating.

Yuuri had no idea, but he felt warmth spread through him at Victor’s happy expression.

To Yuuri’s incredulity and embarrassment, Victor also revealed that the GPF wasn’t the first time he’d him skate. Yuuri also had a reputation among the other competitors for being elusive to the point of mysterious during competitions, only showing his face when the time came for him to actually skate.

“You’re very intriguing, you know,” Victor added with a wink.

Yuuri was floored. He had no idea he even had a reputation. Let alone could think other competitors found him ‘mysterious.’

To add to the ongoing list of ‘How to Fluster and Embarrass Yuuri this Summer’ there was the manner in which his mother started referring to them.

“Your two Vicchans are in the other room!” Hiroko called out to him cheerfully one morning. Mari burst out laughing from where she was eating breakfast.

“My--my... what?” Yuuri shook his head and called a bit louder. "Victor?!”

“Yes?” Victor answered and Vicchan followed with an answering bark from his perch on Victor’s lap as they both gazed up at Yuuri earnestly. Makkachin was next to them and boofed happily.

Yuuri felt the urge to clutch his chest. His “Two Victors”... he couldn’t believe it.

Before they knew it, a one week vacation would eventually turn into two and so on.

Next skating season would go down in history as the “Katsuki/Nikiforov rivalry.” For Yuuri and Victor, at most it was a friendly competitiveness, but they also made it no secret they were dating, as much as their busy schedules permitted. Predictably the tabloids exploded and the news was met with some pushback. Most notably columnists pointing out the conflict of interest, especially when rumors of Victor giving him advice that stepped on Celestino’s toes surfaced. This would be the first of many seasons they would end up being a source of ire and dismay to both the JSF and FFKKR.

Yuuri didn’t think it was a big deal. Victor was known to give skaters advice. He knew Victor held too much love and respect for the sport to ever throw a competition, so he felt complaints of nepotism were unfounded.

“I didn’t have to do much anyway,” Victor said truthfully after Yuuri mentioned the article. “You aren’t technically unsound. Any jumps you’re missing I can help you with. I can also help with your confidence too. I’ve seen you win, Yuuri. I know you can aim higher.”

Skating on the same level as Victor had been his goal for years; now he had a new one. He would be going up against Victor again at the Grand Prix Final and Worlds. It was then he knew he wanted nothing else than to beat Victor.

It felt like that season went by in a blur. In Barcelona, on what ended up being the night before the competition, Yuuri proposed under fairy lights next to a choir in a local cathedral.

There was a change forthcoming in the skating world--and Yuuri was the one leading it. Victor said he’d never been more happy to receive a silver medal, two in fact. Phichit also made good on his promise of a podium finish and won bronze at the Grand Prix while a younger skater named Otabek Altin took bronze during Worlds.

Yuuri knew that Victor was being honest, but he still wondered if he was upset with the way his competitive career ended. He would always be the Living Legend, but he wasn’t undefeated. Nor was he considered unbeatable, his reputation was compromised--

“You say I was compromised,” Victor said as he hung Yuuri’s medals next to his own, observing that he’d need more space for Yuuri’s future medals. “I’d call it closure.”

“Closure?” Yuuri questioned.

Victor was completely moved into Yuuri’s home in Hasetsu now. He’d even let his lease on his apartment in St. Petersburg run out. This was real--Yuuri thought with more optimism than he remembered having felt before--he was really here. Permanently. He was staying.

“This past year I spent with you, then competing against you... I now recognize where I was, Yuuri.” Victor continued. “I’d accomplished everything there was to accomplish. Yet every year I felt like I had to do it all again, but better. Before last summer I was planning to take a break. What I didn’t know is that I had other options... until I met you.”

Victor closed the case with a metallic click, the sound echoing in the room where they were sitting together on the floor in Victor’s room. It was their room technically, as Yuuri now spent every night there.

“Losing to you was the closure I didn’t know I was looking for,” He said softly, expression so fond Yuuri was sure his heart would combust.

Victor had a pensive look on his face and Yuuri reached over, lacing their fingers together. Victor immediately squeezed back.

“I think,” He continued. “There would’ve come a time, even a few years from now, when I’d look back on my career and feel unsatisfied and bitter. I was tired, Yuuri. I can’t remember the last time I’d felt inspired. I’d forgotten what it felt like to love the ice, but...”

Yuuri felt solemn as he listened to Victor’s confession. He’d been right, he realized. That look in Victor’s eyes when he got to see him up close and not through photos and a camera lens. Victor had been depressed and didn’t even know it. No one could tell either. As someone who’d lived through depressive spells for years it only made Yuuri’s heart ache. He couldn’t wish that on anyone, let alone someone he loved.

Victor pivoted to face him fully and lifted Yuuri’s other hand. He held both their hands up between them.

“Now I think when I look back on my career, I’ll see a story that came to its natural conclusion. When I was defeated in competition, it felt like I was free. You did that.” Throughout his confession he’d begun gingerly kissing the tips of Yuuri’s fingers, almost worshipful.

He paused his ministrations. “And I can’t think of anyone better to pass that torch to...” He concluded. “Now it’s time I move on. I want to see someone else reach that pinnacle.”

He took Yuuri's hand and gently kissed his palm. “But unlike me, you won’t be alone when you do it,” He promised.

“Victor...”

Yuuri sniffed and removed his glasses to wipe at his eyes. He didn’t even know when he started crying but it didn’t matter. After he placed them on the floor next to them he launched himself into Victor’s arms. There wasn’t anything he could do to take away Victor’s past hurt, but he could be there for him now. He would be there for him. He had a matching gold ring as proof of that commitment.

There were times when he felt like he could drown in his love for Victor, it helped knowing the feeling was mutual.

Yuuri didn’t know what to say to Victor’s desire to see him succeed. He hadn’t mentioned it yet, but he’d amicably parted ways with Celestino after the season concluded. Winning a gold medal through beating Victor had been his goal; something he realized he’d wanted to do in Sochi too. As overwhelming as it was, he’d accomplished that. Twice. Yuuri didn’t know what was left for him if he continued.

Shortly after Victor talked about wanting to retire. The reality of a skating world without Victor made Yuuri mournful, but after hearing about how much skating ended up taking out of him, he understood. Then an idea struck him. Victor had a way of giving good advice, maybe he could apply that? Offhandedly Yuuri suggested he could coach.

Victor looked surprised but said nothing. He liked to retreat to his thoughts quite a bit, Yuuri had noticed.

Yuuri wished he could take it back. His own thoughts always sounded better in his head. Out loud they usually sounded ridiculous.

It wasn’t so ridiculous however when a week passed, just before winter gave way to spring, that Victor announced that was exactly what he wanted to do. Not only that, but he wanted to coach him. He also believed Yuuri could score even higher.

“In fact,” Victor said and fixed him with a studious look. “I think you could even beat my combined total. What do you say, Yuuri? I won’t be easy on you. Only because I want to see you reach further than your wildest imagination. That’s how I’ll show my love.”

Yuuri--after sputtering for a good five minutes--finally agreed. If because he wanted nothing more than to stay with Victor long after he retired--now his fiancé and coach. Thanks to Victor, he also had a new goal to strive towards.

Winter had quickly become Yuuri’s favorite season.

#yuuriweek #day: 1 #theme: terra incognita #theme: seasons #katsuki yuuri #yuuri katsuki #queue #fic

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themoneybuff-blog · 5 years

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Why financial literacy fails (and what to do about it)

April is Financial Literacy Month in the United States. This is a pure and noble thing. I think it's great that there's one month each year devoted to promoting smart money habits. That said, it has become increasingly apparent over the years that most financial literacy programs fail. They don't work. And this isn't just me speaking anecdotally. In a 2014 paper from Management Science, three researchers conducted a meta-analysis of 201 prior studies regarding the efficacy of financial literacy. Their conclusion? Interventions to improve financial literacy explain only 0.1% of the variance in financial behaviors studied, with weaker effects in low-income samples. Like other education, financial education decays over time; even large interventions with many hours of instruction have negligible effects on behavior 20 months or more from the time of intervention. To put it in plain English, financial literacy education makes no discernible difference in behavior. People who take personal-finance classes manage their money no better (and no worse) than the general population. We're pumping tons of money and time into a fruitless endeavor. All of this push to promote financial literacy accomplishes nothing. Zero. Nada. Why is that?

It probably won't surprise you to learn that I have some strong opinions on this subject. Today, let's talk about why financial literacy fails (and what to do about it). Note: This afternoon (April 24th) at 4 p.m. Pacific (7 p.m. Eastern), I'll be part of a Facebook Live interview about this very subject. If you're free at that time, you should join us! Update: Here's the entire interview. Why Financial Literacy Fails Financial literacy fails because it almost universally addresses only one part of the problem: math and mechanics. FinLit (as it's sometimes called) focuses on facts and figures while largely ignoring behavior. This is insane. This is like promoting sex education that talks about penises and vaginas while never discussing what it's like to be madly in love with somebody, so in love that your brain stops working. For sex education to be effective, it has to deal with real-world circumstances and behavior. It has to teach about psychology and emotions, not just body parts. The same is true with financial literacy. In fact, the same is true with actual literacy. The National Assessment of Adult Literacy says that working literacy has two components. The operational piece of literacy focuses solely on knowledge. It involves word-level reading skills such as recognizing words.The conceptual piece of literacy focuses on everyday tasks: Literacy is the ability to use printed and written information to function in society, to achieve one's goals, and to develop one's knowledge and potential. The first part of literacy is about mechanics. The second part is about practical application. Modern financial literacy efforts spend nearly all of their time on the knowledge piece. I've reviewed maybe a dozen FinLit programs over the years. Most pay no more than lip service to behavior, to the conceptual piece of financial literacy. Let me give you an example from my own life. When I was in high school (w-a-y back in the mid-1980s), every senior in our district was required to pass a class in personal finance. It covered topics like compound interest, the Federal Reserve, how to write a check, and the dangers of credit cards. I took that class. I aced every test. And five years later, I had the beginnings of a debt habit. I'd mastered the knowledge but not he behavior. The behavior was never taught. From what I can tell, the kids from my high school grew up to be no different than the rest of Americans. We learned the basics of financial literacy, but it had no perceivable impact on the way we saved and spent and earned. We still made stupid mistakes. We still spent more than we earned. Why? Because facts and figurs are only one-half of financial literacy. (And I'd argue they aren't even the most important half.) The solution to financial literacy isn't to feed people more facts and figures. It isn't to teach them how bonds work or to explain the sheer awesomeness of a Roth IRA. If we want to boost financial literacy in the United States, what we really need to promote is behavioral education. Behavioral Finance Personal finance is simple. Fundamentally, you need to know only one thing: To build wealth, you must spend less than you earn. The end. That's it. We can all go home now. Everything else simply builds on this. Why, then, is it so hard for everyone to get ahead? For some people, the problem is systemic. There's no doubt that some people are trapped in a cycle of poverty, and they truly need outside help to overcome the obstacles they face. But for most of us, the issue is internal: The problem is us. In other words, I am the reason that I can't get ahead. And you are the reason that you can't get ahead. It's not a lack of knowledge about compounding and credit cards that holds us back, but a chain of bad behavior. The math and mechanics of personal finance are easy. It's the psychological side of money that's hard. One of the key tenets of this site is that money is more about mind than it is about math. That is, our financial success isn't determined by how smart we are with numbers, but how well we're able to control our emotions our wants and desires. There's actually a branch of economics called behavioral finance devoted exclusively to this phenomenon, exploring the interplay between economic theory and psychological reality. There's a new wave of folks who are exploring the gamification of personal finance; they're trying to turn money management into a game. More and more, experts are seeing that our economic decisions aren't based on logic, but on emotion and desire. It's time that financial literacy programs incorporated these new(-ish) approaches into their curriculum. For years, I struggled with money. I knew the math, but I still couldnt seem to defeat debt. It wasnt until I started applying psychology to the situation that I was able to make changes. For instance, I used the debt snowball to pay down my debt in an illogical yet psychologically satisfying way. It worked. And Ive learned that by having financial goals such as travel Im much more inclined to save than if I have no goals at all. Behavioral Literacy

To me, the answer to our country's crazed consumerism and poor financial skills has nothing to do with traditional financial literacy. (Okay, maybe it has a little to do with traditional financial literacy.) Instead, I see two fundamental problems that need to be addressed. First, we soak in a bath of the mass media. We're constantly exposed to a barrage of programming in which we're given subtle messages about what people do (or should) consume. We cannot help but be influenced by the power of marketing. (I've talked to many people who think they're immune to marketing. I just shake my head and think, You, my friend, are the most influenced of all.)Secondly, we don't think about our spending. We spend on impulse. Or we spend to subconsciously keep up with our family and friends to keep up with the Joneses. We spend to make ourselves feel better when we're down and blue. We spend to show off. We spend on things we think we want instead of the things we actually use and do. We spend because spending is a habit. Instead of teaching Americans about credit cards and rates of return, we need to be teaching them about behavioral finance. We need to be showing them how to break free from the marketing messages that are all around. We need to be showing them how to set (and achieve) personal goals, especially financial goals. We need to teach skills like conscious spending. There's a reason that my core message doesn't start with math and mechanics. It starts by asking people to think about their goals and purpose. This is the piece of financial education that's missing in our society. This is what financial literacy education ought to be teaching. Note: For a clear demonstration of how I'd approach financial literacy if I were to design a program, check out my Money Boss Manifesto. It's a free ebook that outlines the financial philosophy I've developed after nearly fifteen years of reading and writing about money. The Bottom Line Sometimes people wonder why we don't spend more time on the nitty gritty of money around here. Why we don't cover more topics like where to find the best credit cards or how to create a budget? It's because deep inside, I believe these things are secondary. I believe behavior is more important. Building a better budget isn't going to change your attitude toward saving and spending; but changing you attitude toward saving and spending could very well lead you to building a better budget. Ultimately, if we want Americans to be smarter with their money, we need to encourage them to consume less media to avoid advertising and we need to teach them to master the emotional side of personal finance. We need to show them how to change their behavior. We need to appeal to their self-interest. We need to help them find intrinsic motivation to save. Each of us needs to dig deep inside to find what it is that's important to us, what it is that brings us joy, and we need to prioritize that instead of all the other garbage. I'm not suggesting that we abandon traditional financial literacy completely. But I think a constant push for more financial education is a waste of time if it's only going to focus on mechanics, to stick to facts and figures. To truly be successful, financial education has to address the behavioral side of money because that is absolutely the biggest piece of the puzzle.

Author: J.D. Roth In 2006, J.D. founded Get Rich Slowly to document his quest to get out of debt. Over time, he learned how to save and how to invest. Today, he's managed to reach early retirement! He wants to help you master your money and your life. No scams. No gimmicks. Just smart money advice to help you reach your goals. https://www.getrichslowly.org/why-financial-literacy-fails-and-what-to-do-about-it/

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beyondthetemples-ooc · 7 years

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.....there is a huge, huge part of me wondering if what everyone was telling me was a panic attack was actually a panic attack.

Or.... meltdown? imean i’ve been seriously, genuinely wondering if i’m autistic. I need to talk to someone and ask. Because...

I think I might actually be autistic, because:

I run my life on a plane of logic.

I don’t communicate and connect with other people about things very well at all, certainly not face-to-face.

I communicate in weird nonverbal ways that other people don’t seem to get, but it’s not like I’m trying to be weird or mimick animals or anything, it just made more sense to me to use? (Could also be an extreme form of polyglot-ism expressing itself, but I don’t think linguists usually have to resort to hissing when something hurts them because they don’t have mental access to words at that point.)

I use social scripting to interact with almost everyone but friends, even at work.

Outside of friends, even on Tumblr, sending my typical three-part-welcome message to new followers on any blog but my personal (welcome, I’d like to Rp any time, if you need anything tagged let me know), I have to sit for awhile and put the words in the right order. It has taken me 40 minutes to put those in order.

I’m very good at writing descriptively and social interactions for my characters, but not in person? Not when I know I’m writing to communicate with an actual person, unless they’re a friend and I don’t have to expend the energy Communicating Perfectly??? what?????? is??????? that about??????????

I think I’ve been using echolalia my whole life (I quote things to myself when I’m happy, or to make myself feel better, always have, and used to quote Teen Titans to other people too), but I got better at disguising quotes as “my own words” because my stepmother emotionally abused me when I talked about Teen Titans too much. (I also repeat parts of questions people ask me as a way of processing what they’re asking, to help form my answer.)

I even use quotes and phrases from things when I’m writing because I don’t know how to say it otherwise??? (Most often with comic!Raven....)

I don’t do well with changes in plans. At all. Ever. Especially when it’s day-of. I have to withdraw and do something to completely “reset” my brain when it happens, to get myself out of the shut-down “nevermind i don’t want to do anything dealing with this is too much,, let me BREATHE” sort of mindset. (This is a thing that might be ADD and might be autism, but the level with which I have to “reset”, I think, is beyond what ADD psychologists say is “normal” for ADD.)

^ I’m generally a very emotionally calm, stable person. Like, ridiculously so. Most of the time I just don’t have emotions assigned to things that other people assign emotion to. (Even things that I know other people have extreme reactions to. Someone dies? I’m sorry they won’t be around anymore, but everyone dies eventually and I’m okay with that. I’m sorry if this makes me a bad person, but I don’t cry at funerals, I just get overwhelmed with the pressure of everyone else’s emotions. I’m sorry for you and I truly do ache for your loss, but don’t feel any emotion about the death myself. Unless I really, really love someone, which... fuck, I cried over my canary, but not my grandfather? who i wasn’t very close to tbh and disliked his stubborn streak of feistiness because it was Too Mush For Me, but... idunno the funeral made me sick for a WEEK with empathic overwhelming, but I’m okay with Mary’s death now because, well, my emotions aren’t as strongly tied to things like Pure Presence as other peoples’.)

And despite that, when my stepmother tells me “I’m going to pick you up from work” when I already had a bus pass (which doesn’t expire so it’s not like I wasted resources), even though it would be nice to get home in 15 minutes instead of 45 after work, I still get frustrated an annoyed and go “okaaay... a little notice ahead of time would be nice, now I have to re-adjust myself for the whole day.” i’m emotionally stable as hell, yet stupid little changes in plan like that really annoy me.

I’m touch-dominant, I experience the world through my HANDS. Apparently that’s a thing autistic people experience more than neurotypical.

Constantly stimming (hard to distinguish from ADD fidgeting, but I do it because it’s stimuli that helps me better process things, not because I have energy that I need to use.)

Teen Titans for me fits the exact definition of a Special Interest.

I am definitely hyperempathic. (Psychic empathy versus conceptual empathy, but reactively empathic to the sensations as well.)

I’m disconnected from my own emotions.

I cannot communicate my emotions well, I cannot recognize them, I cannot understand them. I am utter SHIT at actually EXPRESSING my emotions. I’m not emotive. When I try, people misread my facial expressions CONSTANTLY. (I looked at my father confused, and he told me not to glare at him.)

I’m not very good at reading facial expressions beyond the general Happy/Sad/Angry/Afraid. (I thought I Was, but it turns out I misread them half the time. I use books and the physical things they describe to learn “Oh, raised brows doesn’t always mean interest, it might mean disbelief if her lips are tight too”. Again: disconnection from emotions and expressing them.)

I don’t process visual information well, if i process it at ALL. I have 20/15 vision according to the last optometrist I saw, and my vision is just fine according to the DMV (when I got my temps license, again), but I struggle to recognize letters and call them by name, not because I don’t know it, but it takes me twice or three times as long to figure out what that visual information means? I can read very well and comprehend it extremely well, but when it’s not organized in a language I know: I struggle to process what letters are which.

And, I mean, I can, and I do, but I have to tell everyone in my life, parents and job and friends: “I don’t See Things the way you do, literally do not SEE and PROCESS them. I have very good vision, but my brain doesn’t process visual information, so if there’s a way I can notice this by touching it or hearing a different sound, that will work a lot better than relying on seeing things to notice it. Because I probably won’t.”

I think I’m communicating well, but my mother and girlfriend are the only people who consistently understand my words well in person.

I actually do rock and move my hands/arms when I’m really excited. (I’m okay at restraining it, but it’s much nicer to be able to express myself in “weird” kinetic ways. Again: touch-dominant, kinetic expression is part of that, but touch-dominant might be an autistic thing, and I don’t know anymore, and that’s frustrating.)

(( I remember doing the actual hand-flapping thing at age 8 or 10, when I asked someone at ALP if he watched Teen Titans. And he said the only good character was Cyborg... no, Raven. And I was excited, because nobody else I knew liked Raven best! I was sitting seiza-style but started bouncing on my knees while pumping my hands, and smiling at him. He got really weirded out and shifted away from me, because we were all sitting on the floor in a crowd of sorts and he probably would’ve gone to the other side of the room if he could, now that I think about it... but, I always remember that, and when I got older I realized my reaction was Abnormal. i always associated it with Strong Emotions, but now I’m wondering, why do strong emotions make me move like that, and other people do other things entirely? that’s the only way i can express emotions that deep sometimes, kinetic motion. what if it’s because i’m autistic?))

I become completely nonverbal when I’m overstimulated, emotional, processing something big, constantly processing something and then another then another, and I very often actually don’t have the energy to speak. (It takes me a lot of energy to ask a customer “What?” sometimes if I didn’t catch their full order. I have literally blinked at people because I couldn’t even say THAT, and hoped they’d understand.)

I know I speak bluntly when I AM verbal, but putting things to words is all I have energy for. I could rephrase things to be more diplomatic, but fearing my stepmother is the only time it ever seems worth it. (I speak bluntly and honestly because A, I feel things bluntly and honestly and I see no point in rephrasing to redress what I think/feel, I just say literally, and I do mean literal-literally, what I’m thinking. I don’t do the “ulterior motives” thing. I don’t understand, at all, when people say they said something just because they were angry or excited. Like... why? What??? How did those words get put together when they’re not true???? it’s foreign concept to me, completely.)

I get overstimulated in general, badly BADLY overstimulated, and shut down completely. (I experience “shutdown” exactly as autistic people have described it, more times in my life than I care to remember. This happens most often with empathy and emotion, but also in crowds/presences/too much activity or noise or even TALKING.)

That “panic attack” also could have... been a meltdown if this is really a thing. Because it sounds like a panic attack, but I didn’t want help, I just wanted to be hide in the corner and be left alone and I wanted everything to STOP.

Because when I’m lucid, I look at my life objectively, and I really, really do not think I have anxiety. Or should have had a panic attack.

...I mean... when it happened, my phobia had been triggered time and time again in the preceeding weeks, because one household family member after the other had the stomach flu. Two even got it twice. and when you’re an empath it is damn hard to block out the sensations and feel sick too, no matter how loud I blast my music. I existed at home in a constant state of “don’t breathe here, wash your hands twice like they do in hospitals, iron shields not just shadows, hurry in and hurry out to reduce exposure, open windows, ignore it and cast it away that is not yours to feel, breathe, breathe, breathe.” Purposefully high-alert and constantly defensive (determined, not afraid), but not total-breakdown-justifying anxiety...

But this was not the first year it’s happened, nor second and probably not even the third -- and my phobia was much, MUCH worse (AND empathy, thus doubly bad at coping with feeling what the sick/v*ing people are feeling), the two times it happened when I was 14-18.

The phobia-triggering alone triggered less anxiety than before, because I could cope with it, and I had the tools to better cope with both phobia-anxiety and miserable-empathy.

Outside that, I’m not prone to anxiety, I only become anxious about normal life things (re: not General Anxiety Disorder, just Specific Anxiety Disorder aka My Phobia, and severe Financial Anxiety because fucking hell people I’m only 24 and extremely frugal and borderline “stingy” and STILL 3000+ in debt, but my coping mechanism is HEALTHY-- you know, seeking better jobs even if I hate them, walking dogs, and saving money like hell whenever i can. You know: proactively FIXING the PROBLEM.)

And when I AM Anxious, it is controllable, if I can find a solution.

But if it’s anxiety like I felt over potentially losing my job due to health-related call-offs every month and bus routes, aka things I already do my absolute best to control: It self-feeds because every time I solution-seek, there is no solution.

And often, it’s far more FRUSTRATION than anxiety.

So, like... I don’t have “anxiety disorder”. I don’t have General Anxiety about things that don’t logically WARRANT it. I just have a very strong, atypical REACTION to anxiety, and sometimes get overstimulated by feeling my own emotion, and either have to withdraw from it, or shut down.

gods i really need to talk to someone about this because it would explain a LOT about what’s wrong with me and what’s “Abnormal” about me in the world and i’d really, really like to know what’s ADD, what’s from Emotional Abuse, and what’s possible-autism, thanks... ;;;;

#rhs personal posts #i know i'm Not Normal. but it'd be nice if i had the words to help other people Deal With me too.........

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staggeringsmite · 3 years

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2, 4, 8, 17, 18, 24, 32, 36?

(pick and choose if that’s too many 😅)

thank you!!! once again under the cut because this got long <3

2. what was your first time running a game like?

ohohoho it was genuinely pretty stressful bc i had been wanting to play dnd for a while and wanted my friends to like this cool fun game sooooo bad, but i Was in middle school and that time is mostly forgotten. somehow i remember this very well. the first game i ever ran was in 7th grade and was holiday themed over our school break. it was set during a winter solstice festival in this moderately sized city the party had just arrived at to see what the celebration was about. they did minigame time for a while running around the town, joining in games and celebrating winning little prizes or a few copper, which was a great way to introduce skill checks to a group that had never touched a ttrpg system before bc we were 12-13. i was fumbling around with rules everywhere, and it was suuper messy but we had a great time!! i think it culminated in a scrooge-esque character placing a nasty curse over the town and them having to go to his mansion to idk beat the nasty out of him and his little cult or something <3 the actual dm'ing part was a mess but also super rewarding, and i realized i really enjoyed doing it and cooking up a little game for everyone!

4 & 8 answered here!

17. what is your proudest improvisation moment?

dnd thoughts are like a constant background program running in my brain, so even if i don't write down every monologue or line or narrative moment i think up i'm constantly churning out these moments that make it easier to prep and/or pull out when the tone and timing is right, meaning it's not really improv. i am incredibly proud of the xarus and piper moment before they tried to stop castellane's coup because i did put some thought into what they were going to say, but obviously had to see what xarus' reaction was and couldn't really prep beyond the initiation of the scene. it turned into one of the most intense, emotionally complex scenes culminating in that forehead kiss that i will think about forever, and just, unstoppable force vs immovable object dynamic with xarus' self-sacrifical tendencies and piper's declaration of determination to see him through this fight.

other really proud improvisation moments i think mostly arise during combat. while i think i have a ways to go keeping combat interesting in terms of all the little descriptive moments that happen throughout, i don't prep anything dialogue or description wise and have to do more in the moment that creates them. some of favorites happened in the finale battle for wandering isles including xarus' divine intervention harm spell which manifested as his typical lightning (storm herald barb/tempest cleric multiclass) eye glow this time illuminating thirty feet out from him with the stormlord managing to crack into the demiplane with a huge lightning bolt across castellane's form. this and the tâm and theresa reaching out to/keeping veviri alive and the descriptions of the resurrection and tâm's twin heartbeat (honoring a previous nat 20 to allow this to even happen) were highlights of improvising and the campaign as a whole for me <3

18. funniest improvisation moment?

HOWARD SMOOTHANDS. okay i admit i should've been more prepared but school was a lot and i had spent sooo much time prepping the larger plot stuff where the party was that the simplest, most common dm thing of "hey you should put some people in this tavern in case they go in to ask questions" just sort of slipped my mind, there was a vampire cult happening at a large university you see you must understand. anyway i don't think this was entirely improv bc i remember the name coming from a generator, but i did end up having the on the spot get the atmosphere for this tavern and it was bizarre this was a very rural dilapidated community and they were all super suspicious of the party members that came in and then they met, flirted and slept with howard smoothands the barkeep so everything worked out. i think it is mostly funny because this arc was one of the darkest tone moments in the whole campaign, and it was great to break that up with thirty minutes of a halfling thieves' guild associate named howard smoothands.

24. how long does preparing for a session usually take you? do you chronically under or overprepare?

i don't have an exact number but i also know that it could take much less time than it actually does like most tasks i undertake because well, brain doesn't work great. i think it varies a lot depending on what the party is headed into if i'm running a main campaign, if i'm pulling from other modules to help supplement, running out of a book or completely from a module, etc. for my mostly homebrew stuff some sessions that i know are going to be big battles really only take 30 minutes of setup to get my balance right and everything into roll20 whereas if i'm running a highly individualized session (like one that has dream sequences or trials or highly specific character moments for each pc that i need to conceptualize and write and tweak) that could easily take me 3-4 hours to get finalized.

32. do you have any dice/other mechanic rituals? do you feel like you roll abnormally well (or the opposite)?

i cook my dice for a bit before my games <3 (leaving them on the highest numbers) i also Will Only use the dice or color of dice i associate with an npc when i roll for them. i feel like i roll decently well if not average but there have been Some Nights where it has been insane (double nat 20 for castellane at the dock fight with nyx for example).

36. how do you gear up to run a session? any pregame getting into character/setting moments?

i must admit when school is in i am probably prepping down to the wire on session days, but if i have some time i'll just read over my notes, open my stuff, and maybe listen through the campaign or character playlists

#thanks again andromeda!!#ask #asimovsideburns

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andrewdburton · 5 years

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Why Financial Literacy Fails (and What to Do About It)

In a 2014 paper from Management Science, three researchers conducted a “meta-analysis” of 201 prior studies regarding the efficacy of financial literacy. Their conclusion?

Interventions to improve financial literacy explain only 0.1% of the variance in financial behaviors studied, with weaker effects in low-income samples. Like other education, financial education decays over time; even large interventions with many hours of instruction have negligible effects on behavior 20 months or more from the time of intervention.

To put it in plain English, financial literacy education makes no discernible difference in behavior. People who take personal-finance classes manage their money no better (and no worse) than the general population.

We're pumping tons of money and time into a fruitless endeavor. All of this push to promote financial literacy accomplishes nothing. Zero. Nada.

Why is that?

It probably won't surprise you to learn that I have some strong opinions on this subject. Today, let's talk about why financial literacy fails (and what to do about it).

Note: This afternoon (April 24th) at 4 p.m. Pacific (7 p.m. Eastern), I'll be part of a Facebook Live interview about this very subject. If you're free at that time, you should join us!

Why Financial Literacy Fails

Financial literacy fails because it almost universally addresses only one part of the problem: math and mechanics. FinLit (as it's sometimes called) focuses on facts and figures while largely ignoring behavior.

This is insane.

This is like promoting sex education that talks about penises and vaginas while never discussing what it's like to be madly in love with somebody, so in love that your brain stops working. For sex education to be effective, it has to deal with real-world circumstances and behavior. It has to teach about psychology and emotions, not just body parts.

The same is true with financial literacy.

In fact, the same is true with actual literacy. The National Assessment of Adult Literacy says that working literacy has two components.

The operational piece of literacy focuses solely on knowledge. It involves word-level reading skills such as recognizing words.

The conceptual piece of literacy focuses on everyday tasks: “Literacy is the ability to use printed and written information to function in society, to achieve one's goals, and to develop one's knowledge and potential.”

The first part of literacy is about mechanics. The second part is about practical application.

Modern financial literacy efforts spend nearly all of their time on the knowledge piece. I've reviewed maybe a dozen FinLit programs over the years. Most pay no more than lip service to behavior, to the conceptual piece of financial literacy.

Let me give you an example from my own life.

When I was in high school (w-a-y back in the mid-1980s), every senior in our district was required to pass a class in personal finance. It covered topics like compound interest, the Federal Reserve, how to write a check, and the dangers of credit cards.

I took that class. I aced every test. And five years later, I had the beginnings of a debt habit. I'd mastered the knowledge but not he behavior. The behavior was never taught.

From what I can tell, the kids from my high school grew up to be no different than the rest of Americans. We learned the basics of financial literacy, but it had no perceivable impact on the way we saved and spent and earned. We still made stupid mistakes. We still spent more than we earned. Why? Because facts and figurs are only one-half of financial literacy. (And I'd argue they aren't even the most important half.)

The solution to financial literacy isn't to feed people more facts and figures. It isn't to teach them how bonds work or to explain the sheer awesomeness of a Roth IRA. If we want to boost financial literacy in the United States, what we really need to promote is behavioral education.

Behavioral Finance

Personal finance is simple. Fundamentally, you need to know only one thing: To build wealth, you must spend less than you earn. The end. That's it. We can all go home now. Everything else simply builds on this.

Why, then, is it so hard for everyone to get ahead?

For some people, the problem is systemic. There's no doubt that some people are trapped in a cycle of poverty, and they truly need outside help to overcome the obstacles they face.

But for most of us, the issue is internal: The problem is us. In other words, I am the reason that I can't get ahead. And you are the reason that you can't get ahead. It's not a lack of knowledge about compounding and credit cards that holds us back, but a chain of bad behavior.

The math and mechanics of personal finance are easy. It's the psychological side of money that's hard.

One of the key tenets of this site is that money is more about mind than it is about math. That is, our financial success isn't determined by how smart we are with numbers, but how well we're able to control our emotions — our wants and desires.

There's actually a branch of economics called behavioral finance devoted exclusively to this phenomenon, exploring the interplay between economic theory and psychological reality. There's a new wave of folks who are exploring the gamification of personal finance; they're trying to turn money management into a game. More and more, experts are seeing that our economic decisions aren't based on logic, but on emotion and desire.

It's time that financial literacy programs incorporated these new(-ish) approaches into their curriculum.

For years, I struggled with money. I knew the math, but I still couldn’t seem to defeat debt. It wasn’t until I started applying psychology to the situation that I was able to make changes. For instance, I used the debt snowball to pay down my debt in an illogical yet psychologically satisfying way. It worked. And I’ve learned that by having financial goals — such as travel — I’m much more inclined to save than if I have no goals at all.

Behavioral Literacy

First, we soak in a bath of the mass media. We're constantly exposed to a barrage of programming in which we're given subtle messages about what people do (or should) consume. We cannot help but be influenced by the power of marketing. (I've talked to many people who think they're immune to marketing. I just shake my head and think, “You, my friend, are the most influenced of all.”)

Secondly, we don't think about our spending. We spend on impulse. Or we spend to subconsciously keep up with our family and friends — to keep up with the Joneses. We spend to make ourselves feel better when we're down and blue. We spend to show off. We spend on things we think we want instead of the things we actually use and do. We spend because spending is a habit.

Instead of teaching Americans about credit cards and rates of return, we need to be teaching them about behavioral finance. We need to be showing them how to break free from the marketing messages that are all around. We need to be showing them how to set (and achieve) personal goals, especially financial goals. We need to teach skills like conscious spending.

There's a reason that my core message doesn't start with math and mechanics. It starts by asking people to think about their goals and purpose. This is the piece of financial education that's missing in our society. This is what financial literacy education ought to be teaching.

Note: For a clear demonstration of how I'd approach financial literacy if I were to design a program, check out my Money Boss Manifesto. It's a free ebook that outlines the financial philosophy I've developed after nearly fifteen years of reading and writing about money.

The Bottom Line

Sometimes people wonder why we don't spend more time on the nitty gritty of money around here. Why we don't cover more topics like where to find the best credit cards or how to create a budget?

It's because deep inside, I believe these things are secondary. I believe behavior is more important. Building a better budget isn't going to change your attitude toward saving and spending; but changing you attitude toward saving and spending could very well lead you to building a better budget.

Ultimately, if we want Americans to be smarter with their money, we need to encourage them to consume less media — to avoid advertising — and we need to teach them to master the emotional side of personal finance. We need to show them how to change their behavior. We need to appeal to their self-interest. We need to help them find intrinsic motivation to save.

Each of us needs to dig deep inside to find what it is that's important to us, what it is that brings us joy, and we need to prioritize that instead of all the other garbage.

I'm not suggesting that we abandon traditional financial literacy completely. But I think a constant push for more financial education is a waste of time if it's only going to focus on mechanics, to stick to facts and figures. To truly be successful, financial education has to address the behavioral side of money because that is absolutely the biggest piece of the puzzle.

Reminder: This afternoon (April 24th) at 4 p.m. Pacific (7 p.m. Eastern), I'll be part of a Facebook Live interview about this very subject. If you're free at that time, you should join us!

The post Why Financial Literacy Fails (and What to Do About It) appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

from Finance https://www.getrichslowly.org/why-financial-literacy-fails-and-what-to-do-about-it/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

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