#listening to music on physical media is always > > > for me. it is going to be the best spending time with this

[septembersghost]

besties, look what i snagged today, it's SO...🥺🥰🥹 full of details and beautiful.

Elvis' travels were far flung and wild, full of unexpected success and unimagined loss. In a journey like his, coming home is not a reprieve. Home is not a sanctuary. It's a proving ground where your essence is interrogated. What you really love, who you really are, what you want your life to mean. Home is risk, it threatens, it promises. And sometimes, like Memphis in 1969, it rewards. After revisiting the spirit of home, Elvis had a victory he could reflect upon, a confirmation that he was capable of more, a knowledge of the fire burning inside us all that we call hope.

#the picture of him looking down in the third left is like one of my favorite photos of him 💗 pink scarf day my beloved #there's so much in the booklet i can't wait to really sit with it #listening to music on physical media is always > > > for me. it is going to be the best spending time with this #bubble wrap around my heart #elvis presley #so i keep singing a song #from elvis in memphis #music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent #i was a dreamer

[babygorewhore]

I’ll follow you until you love me.

The moment Eddie Munson saw you, he thought you were perfect and once he finds your social media, it gives him insight into your world. But he can’t get enough of you. Eddie can’t stop himself from acting on his desire to follow you. Eddie is determined to make you his. But maybe he’s not as subtle as he thinks.

This is my installment of a shared universe with a mutual. Who will be writing her installment of this universe soon.

Warnings! Smut! 18plus only! Stalker! Eddie. Obsession. Oral! Fem recieving! Unprotected PnV! Fem reader is alternative/goth in this. Eddie is a Bartender. I’m sick and I edited once so if you saw mistakes ignore them.

Eddie knew he was breaking some sort of code. But he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. He was…addicted. You weren’t even friends. Friendly at best. He knew you for only a couple of weeks. Your parents owned his favorite music store and he was sorting through the collection of Black Sabbath CDs when he saw you for the first time in the same aisle.

He immediately fell for you. Everything about you was perfect. Your body. Your face. Your clothes. Your voice. Eddie was completely mesmerized when you both had a conversation about why CDs were essential to the music listening experience. It took everything in him not to kiss you and ruin your pretty lipstick.

As soon as he was alone in his van, he yanked out his phone. Typed in your name and hunted for any sign of accounts you had. He didn’t even use his social media but you would be the exception. You were everything. After several minutes, he finally found your pretty picture. He sighed and leaned back in the seat.

It was your instagram. And in your bio you listed your tik tok, twitter and even your Facebook. Jackpot. Eddie’s eyes scanned over your uploads, his breathing getting heavier. It was almost as if he had a taste of your life. Your world.

The whole week in between his shift at work and when he came home, he devoured everything you posted. He watched every video you reposted, he needed to know your humor, your likes, your dislikes. He couldn’t tear himself away from looking at you.

One night, you posted your work schedule for the next week at the music store. And that’s when he decided he needed to see you again.

His shift ended at the Hawkins bar two hours after he originally planned because some fuckwad didn’t know how to show up on time. The music store would only be open for another hour so he raced to his van and probably broke three laws speeding to the building.

He speedily parked, exited and practiced in his head what he would say. He needs a copy of the band you liked Bad Omens. You posted about them all the time. Eddie needed the physical copy. Something you both talked about so it wouldn’t be weird if he asked for a disc. He inhaled and pushed open the door, glancing around as the bell rung. A collection of people were here, he tried to keep his cool. The CDS. His hair was tied into a bun and he wore all black just like you always did. He shook his head and confidently strides to the shelves.

It was different. More organized. All the decades were correct. Everything was straightened. You had the magic touch. Eddie smiled when his fingers grazed over the plastic, you had touched these. He saw Bad omens right away, but he came here for help. He purposely took a step back and wore a confused expression.

“Eddie?” There. There you were. His cock twitched. Goosebumps rose on his skin. He didn’t turn right away, no. You wouldn’t get it that easy. As badly as he wanted to turn around and-

Your hand gently grazed his shoulder. He wanted to rip off his leather jacket to feel your fingers on his bare skin and his breath shuddered. Finally, he shifted in your direction. Eddie almost kissed you. He had to plant his feet heavily on the floor to prevent himself. Your eyes were soft, searching his brown irises. Small crinkles around your brows showed hours of work but your mouth was curved into a polite, curious smile. You wore all black, a bad omens shirt, leggings and boots. A small name tag was right above your heart. You looked perfect. But he focused on your lipstick, the same you wore that first day. He wanted to smear your makeup. Make it run down your face while you were on your knees. He wanted to grip your hair and guide you through-

“It is Eddie, right? Don’t tell me I forgot.” He jerked his head.

“Yes. It’s Eddie. I’m glad you’re here. I’m in serious need of a music recommendation,” Eddie internally melted when you flashed him a grin.

“Well, I’m happy to assist you. I’m assuming you want this in the form of a CD?” You gave him a knowing look.

He clapped his hands. “ You remembered that. Yes. Always.” You giggled and you extended your hand towards the collection of CDs on the shelves.

“What sound are you looking for? I know you like metal. But do you want a classic recommendation, something underrated or unknown?” You sounded so considerate. You were doing your job, he knew that. But he clung to whatever interest you gave him.

“Honestly, what are you listening too? I want something different. You can only listen to so much Metallica and Black Sabbath,” Eddie dramatically pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

You nodded in kind. “Your secret is safe with me. But I can’t believe you’re actually asking for my opinion.”

“Why? I mean, I’d assume someone who shares my appreciation for metal has great taste.” He saw you from the corner of his eye, you dip your head down for a second. He needed to pace this conversation, withhold what he knows. He just needs to keep hearing your voice. He was almost trembling from the way you were accepting his attempts at charm.

“I mean-If I’m being honest. My favorite band is Bad Omens.” Eddie raised his eyebrows and nodded towards your shirt. His shoulders relaxed. Finally. This was how it went in his head.

“I haven’t listened to them. I’ve seen them on tik tok, but I just haven’t dived in.” He hoped you believed his lie.

“Excuse me?” You both turned and a older man stood at the entrance. Wearing a guns and roses shirt and light blue jeans. “I need help.”

Eddie’s chest burned. No, no, no. He just got you talking. You face him with a shadow of disappointment dancing across your features. He wanted to scream at the man but he had to stay calm. He couldn’t risk you seeing him differently. You didn’t hardly know him.

Yet.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. Gotta help him. But the CD is right there, and if you ring the bell someone will check you out. It was nice seeing you! I hope you like it!”

He was struggling to bury his anger even long after he paid for the album and made his way home. Eddie paced his room. You. You were so beautiful. So sweet. He wanted to keep listening to you talk. He wanted to know every single band you loved. He wanted-no, he needed more of you. He dug his phone out of his pocket.

Settling on his bed, knees spread apart, his thump quickly found your profile. You had so many followers. So many people watching, commenting and sharing with you online. He clenched his jaw when he looked at your story. Eddie blinked at the loud music attached. You had a closed lipped smile and your eyes were shut. And the caption talked about how much you hated rude customers. But then he recognized the song. It was Bad Omens.

He chewed his bottom lip. Was that because of him? Were you thinking about him? The same way he thought of you? He turned up the volume. Listened carefully. Was this song on the album he bought? He picked up the bag and yanked out the plastic, reading the song list on the back . Yes. It was. Eddie pressed the CD against his chest. You touched it. He brought it higher, over his chin until his lips pressed against it. He held it against his mouth, while he stared at your photo.

Eddie had memorized your work schedule. Maybe he could stop by again tomorrow. Fuck, he couldn’t. He had to work and It was too soon. You would be confused.

He couldn’t fit anymore CDs on his shelf but he would fucking build a new one if that meant he could buy more from you.

The next day he was in his car. Parked across the street with a few cars giving distance from the music store. He didn’t plan it. He was going into work in a hour. But He just needed to see you. Just look at you. That’s it. A death of Peace of mind album was playing in his van and his jaw was clenching so hard from waiting for you to step out. He had fell asleep with his phone on his chest from frantically scrolling on your profile last night.

He didn’t know how his resolution disappeared so quickly. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how sweet you were. How quickly his conversation with you ended. He couldn’t stand it. He needed more. Eddie’s breathing shortened when the entrance opened and you stepped out. You adjusted your bag, shuffled to close the door behind you and cast your search around the direction of the street.

He gripped the steering wheel, so hard his hands trembled as you moved aside for a stranger. You smiled brightly then you started to walk in the opposite direction. His eyes trailed down your body. Black jeans, black hoodie and converse. They lingered on the curve of your thighs in those pants. But he frowned. Were you walking home? You didn’t have a car?

Without a second thought, he turned the keys. In the back of his mind, he knew he was going overboard. He had work. He needed to leave. Soon. But god damn he just needed to make sure you got home safe. His van came alive and he maneuvered onto the street. There was a stop light coming, and he sped up to try and beat it before it turned red. He didn’t know how he would remain invisible as he followed you, but he had to try.

Eddie wasn’t sure how he managed, but you didn’t turn to see his van. Your apartment wasn’t far from the store thank fuck. He settled across the street, behind two cars. The same tactic he used earlier. You jogged up the driveway, where there wasnt a car. His suspicions confirmed. The complex wasn’t big, it looked similar to his own.

He glanced at the clock. He needed to get going. He hated being late. But your address was seared into his mind. He would never forget it. Eddie pulled out his phone, frantically clicking on your instagram. You had a new story. You were smiling, an adorable grin and your fingers were held in a peace sign. The caption said you were finally home. He wanted to help you relax. Spread your legs and make you see stars and never think about a stressful day again.

His dick was growing hard as he imagined your sweet face. Covered in his cum. Your eyeliner running down your cheeks. His hand ghosted the center of his pants before he stopped.

No. No he wouldn’t touch himself. He needed you. He needed to cum inside you. You deserved better than him jerking off in his car before he had the privilege of being with you. Eddie exhaled, forcing himself to drive.

The night shift was always packed. Plus as the manager, he was responsible for training and handling reckless drinkers. His hair was tied up, his usual style for his shift and his sleeves were rolled up, muscles flexing as he slid a glass to a guest. But his mind was a whirlwind. He hadn’t been able to check his phone. What were you doing? Were you relaxing? He was buzzing with energy. He hadn’t even told Steve about you yet, who apparently was busy with his own infatuation. Eddie kept looking at the clock. He had to stay over again but closing was coming soon. Halloween was in just a few days. What were you going to do? Dress up? Go to a party? Fuck, he needed to know.

He had fucking fell asleep before he had a chance to look at your instagram when he got home well after 3am. He crashed on his couch, still wearing his work clothes with his phone in his pocket where it died. Eddie practically shoved the end of the charger into his phone, his leg bouncing from waiting for it to turn back on. He knew he should have charged it. Now, it would take longer to see you.

He wanted to touch himself as he imagined your lips wrapped around him, choking on his dick as his hand is gripping your hair. His hand even drifted to his crotch until he stopped himself. No, he promised himself he wouldn’t cum until it was inside you. You were his. He checked his phone again as it finally came back to life. His fingers were frantic as they clicked on your name.

You uploaded a new story. Eddie sighed in relief. As it came up, your face looked tired. You weren’t smiling, instead you were holding up a glass, clinking it with another glass belonging to your best friend. His chest tightened. He wanted to be there. He wanted to drink with you, hold you and take care of you. You had to walk home. And he had to fucking work. He swiped to the next story.

It was this morning, he knew only because of the time included. Just an hour ago. You were smiling this time. It was your day off and you were thrilled to to go the Halloween store today. Eddie couldn’t stop looking at your bright eyes, the excitement and he needed to see it again. In person.

He had to try. He would go the store. Pretend he was looking for a Halloween costume. But when? You didn’t give a time. It didn’t matter. He would stay all day and wait. It was his day off too.

Eddie threw himself in the shower, got dressed and drove to the store. It didn’t matter if it was an hour away. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t planned dressing up, or that he would have to swap schedules. You were on his mind. Whatever you were doing, he wanted to be a part of it.

Bad omens played loudly in his van as he came into the parking lot. Eddie’s heart started to hammer as he unbuckled and stepped out. His neck was warm at the thought of hearing your voice again so he tied his hair up.

Opening the door, he was greeted with gruesome decor, rows of costumes and several people shopping. Fuck, how was he supposed to find you? If you were even here yet? His shoe tapped impatiently as he was torn on where to go. Costumes. That’s where he’d start. But what kind? Sexy? Scary? in between?

As he walked down the section, he pretended to search. His rings occasionally getting caught in the fabrics and plastic. He wasn’t interested in this. He didn’t want to participate without you. Oh god, who drove you here? Were you going to be alone? He didn’t think about that. He just moved. Eddie dug out his phone from his pocket.

“Hey, Eddie! Is that you?”

He froze.

Eddie turned around and there you were.

This time, you were wearing a dress. A black one. With a matching sweater and combat boots. But his eyes fell to the tattoo on your chest. He hadn’t seen it because you always wore higher neck tops. Eddie almost salivated. Your makeup was dark again with your apparent favorite lipstick. He wanted to touch your skin, run his tongue along the art. He knew you would taste sweet. So sweet.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Eddie dropped into a serious expression. “Are you following me?”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head. “No, I just saw you-“ Then he grinned. He knew he was such a tease.

“I’m joking, sweets. I’m just here for my Halloween costume.” Such a fucking lie. But he needed to establish a common ground.

You sighed in relief.

“Me too. We had the same idea.” You didn’t protest at the nickname. Eddie tried not to smirk. You were happy to see him. He had to ball his fists to keep from touching you.

“What are you going as? I haven’t decided.” Eddie forced himself to sound light hearted but he truly needed an idea. You set the stage on his actions.

You gestured, “Follow me and I’ll show you.”

And then you stuck out your hand. Eddie thought he would bust in his pants. He accepted as you gently guided him to the other side of the store, where a large amount of costumes were hanging on the wall. Your grip was firm, warm and steady. You were confident in taking his hand. Eddie’s eyes were glued to your lower half, covered by the fitted dress. Your calves peeked out from the slits on the side. He saw more ink. How many tattoos did you have? He wanted to explore them. Compare them to his. You came to a stop and released him. Eddie wanted to stop you, grab your hand again.

“I’m going with this,” You pointed to the hanging plastic bag and Eddie followed direction.

The picture was a Sweeney Todd costume. Fake blood included and wig. It would be hot. You could pull off anything. But the wig he wanted to protest against. Covering your perfect hair? The hair he wanted to dig his fingers in and pull? Caress? Both? “That’s a great one. I think you’ll stand out. Not everyone knows that reference.”

You smiled again. Eddie felt like he won the lottery. “I like to stand out from the crowd, I guess. My best friend is throwing a Halloween party this year. And I finally had the day off to come here.” Eddie nodded, swallowing the urge to reveal he already knew that.

“I hope you’re not working too hard but I can’t stop listening to the CD. You knew exactly what I needed.” Your hands reached up, pressing against your chest. “You really like it? I’m not used to someone actually agreeing with me.” Eddie couldn’t believe that. Who could resist you? Who wouldn’t give your favorite band a try? He would fix that problem.

“Why wouldn’t I like it, sweets? I’ll have to get more recommendations soon, it makes my driving more exciting.” You opened your mouth to respond but something caught your eye and you excitedly beamed.

Eddie turned, desperate to find what caught your attention other than him.

“That’s my favorite slasher movie! If I hadn’t already decided on this, I would wear that.” Eddie’s eyes widened. It was a Ghostface costume. Why didn’t he know that? He ground his teeth. He should have looked closer at your posts. Maybe he would have seen it. You had amazing taste in movies.

“An amazing movie. That would have also been a perfect choice. But I’m not sure anyone could be scared of you, pretty girl. You’re way too sweet.” The names slipped out his mouth before he could catch himself. But you dipped your head and bashfully peeked at him through your lashes.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. He itched to say more, compliment you more but he didn’t want to freak you out. Especially considering he watched your instagram everyday to know exactly what you were doing but he needed you. He would do whatever he needed to make you feel the same way.

Your phone started to ring. Eddie wanted to beg you not to answer. No, stay here in the moment. You sighed, holding the device up. “It’s my dad. I need to take this. But I hope I’ll see you at the store again! And maybe we can talk more. You really get me.” And then you turned away, quietly speaking to your father.

Each time he managed to speak to you, get somewhere, it was interrupted. But this wouldn’t be wasted. No. Eddie moved away from you, as painful as it was and quickly picked up the Ghostface costume. He didn’t know how he would make this work but god damn it he would.

Eddies emotions went beyond his limit when he was hunched over, phone glued to his hand as he poured over your story on his bed when he got home. Your stories consisted of showing off the costume you bought and then several memes about Halloween being everyday for you. And then you posted your old looks. Most of them were edgy, skulls, prosthetics and some were even masks. Except one. You were wearing a short, thigh high black dress. Fishnets and heels. Your face painted with the Crow makeup. Your chest ink and your leg tattoos were on display.

The intricate thorns that wrapped around both thighs but on the left center was a large showing of multiple flowers. On the right was a skull, jaw slightly open to allow a dark snake to wrap around.

His cock felt like it was going to burst but he would not give in. He just didn’t know what to do. How would he get into the party? Sneak in? He was going insane.

And that’s when Steve hit him up. When Eddie answered the phone, Steve proceeded to explain that there was a Halloween party at a penthouse. And the owner just so happened to be your best friend.

Eddie thanked whatever universe, energy or even a God if he even bothered to look at him considering what he was doing. It was Halloween night. He wore the long, black gown. A black shirt and jeans underneath. Heavy boots. Most importantly, the Mask. Steve charmed the security, getting them both inside. The lights were off only to be be replaced with LED strips covering the edges of the wall and even the ceiling.

The living room was spacious, modern furniture and sleek tables covered in red cups, beer bottles and liquor bottles. He squinted his eyes, his vision obscured by the mask. No one paid much attention to him, most people had some sort of horror film costume, he wasn’t the only Ghostface. Fuck. How would you tell it was him? He did all of this for you. Music blared, he could feel it in his chest as he walked around the penthouse. Stepping on decorations fallen to the wood floor.

Steve left his side but Eddie knew he was looking for the hostess of this party. Where were you?

There.

His breath hitched and he froze in the doorway of the kitchen. You were pouring a drink in a solo cup. Your costume was perfect. The white puffed sleeves, black vest and striped pants. Fake blood coated your hands, darkening your fingernails. You weren’t wearing a wig, instead you had the signature white streak in your hair. Good. You didn’t need the wig. He opened his mouth to talk but you turned and started walking into the next room.

No. No. Why did he take so fucking long? He was here right now. He used so much effort to be close to you. Eddie took a steadying breath. And he walked directly behind you, he kept trying to tap your shoulder but you were quick. Nearly jogging. His boots hit against the floor, growing louder from speed. You maneuvered through the crowd. Where you going? He almost lost you but you started climbing the stairs where more cobwebs and pumpkins sat.

Were you running from him? From someone else? Was your best friend up here? His mind raced with endless options as he continued prowling behind you. No one was here. He almost slammed into you as you abruptly halted.

You spun around.

“Eddie, why are you following me?” Oh, fuck.

Up close, your makeup was messy. Eyeliner smudged heavily, your lips were dark and glossy. You looked up at him through lashes. But you didn’t sound angry. Or fearful.

You sounded…playful.

He tilted his head. “I was-“

“It’s okay, Eddie. I know you’ve been following me. I know every time you look at my pictures. I knew that you followed me home. And it wasn’t an accident at the store the other day. I was hoping you would buy this.” You reached over, grasping the material of the cloak between your fingers.

Eddie grew hot. He thought he could be subtle but apparently not. You knew the whole time. But why weren’t you upset? He didn’t want you to be. But that would have been naive.

He clutched your hand. “I couldn’t help it. You’re perfect. The moment I saw you, I knew I needed you. I needed to see you, make sure you were safe. I can’t get you out of my mind. Fuck. And I just wanted to be here tonight to finally talk to you without being interrupted. All I’ve done is listen to the album you love. I know you said you weren’t mad but please, god I need you. I need to feel you. I need to-“

“Fuck me?” You finished. “Did you touch yourself while looking at me, Eddie?”

He was buzzing, ignited from the way your lips were in a smirk. You stepped closer and with your free hand, you removed his mask. His hair was even messier and his nostrils flared as he took in your perfume.

He was almost against the wall but he couldn’t take it. Eddie’s hands gripped your hips and he smashed his lips to yours. You tasted better than he imagined. And you met his intensity. Eddie flipped so you were the one pinned against the wall, diving his tongue inside your mouth. His cock was so hard it hurt and he pressed his pelvis against yours, grinding into you. A moan escaped your mouth and he reached down, grasping your knee and pulling it around his hip. He could feel how wet you were through your pants.

Eddie ripped away from your mouth, moving to concentrate to the soft skin of your neck when you grabbed him by his arm and burst through a door he didn’t notice was there. He only had time to register a bed in the center of the room before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled his bottom lip with your teeth. “I wanted you the first day you came in,” You murmured. Eddie pushed your back against the bed, landing him on top of you and he straddled your lap.

“I-can I-can I fuck you?” He had to ask, as frenzied as he felt, he needed you to want it as much as he did.

“Fuck, Eddie. Yes, I want it so bad.” You whined, arching your back into him as he buried his face in your neck, peppering kisses against your jaw before sucking the spot above your collar bone.

You tore off the cloak, before taking off his black shirt with it and running your hands down his chest, stomach before tugging his belt. Eddie lifted his head, helping you as he kicked off his jeans. But he wanted to taste you. He slid down, peeling off your tight pants and your underwear. Eddie got impossibly harder as you mewled as he separated your legs.

Your cunt dripped with arousal and he spread it apart, coating his thick fingers. He dove in, flattening his tongue against your clit. Eddie moaned at your sweet taste as he licked down your slit before slipping his tongue inside you. You were jerking your hips to hump his face, his nose continually hitting the sensitive nerves in the center.

“I’m gonna cum.” Eddie didn’t speed up, he stayed hungrily lapping your pussy and your movement locked, your thighs squeezing his head. The entire lower half of his face was glistening as he pulled away.

Eddie crawled over you and captured your lips in a bruising kiss. Smearing cum all over your mouth, messing your lipstick even further. Just like he imagined.

“Please, fuck me.” You whimpered and he clumsily took off his boxers, releasing his heavy cock leaking with precum.

Eddie lined his dick against you before pressing inside, stretching your pussy as you clenched around him. He groaned from deep in his chest and shuddered. Your nails dug into his skin as he started thrusting, deep and hard. The bed was slamming against the wall.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, baby.”

He couldn’t even speak anymore, you felt so good he saw stars and he loved the pain from you scratching him. “I’m-I’m close.”

He wanted to hold off for you but the way you cried out, burying your face on his shoulder, Eddie spilled into you. Fuck condoms, he thought. His breath came in choked pants as he pulled out and scooped you into his arms. He was completely naked and you only had a shirt on, that he planned on removing once he caught his breath.

“I can’t believe you knew the whole time. And I can’t believe you liked me back.”

Your head turned as he held you close to him, his arms tight around you. He never wanted to let you go. Now that he’s tasted you, he could never stop.

“Eddie, why do you think I let you follow my account? Why do you think I told you to listen to bad omens? I wanted you to think about me. Besides, your friend Steve pulling the same move on my best friend.”

Holy shit. My first Eddie fic. I’m back with fics! Huge thanks to my tumblr wife @xxhellfirebunnyxx for helping me with this, encouraging me and beta reading. And my little sister @scene-and-dandylover for always supporting me.

Taglist for this!

@reidsbtch @battymunson @take-everything-you-can @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @taintandviolent @hyperharlz @elaine-in-the-membrane @onegirlmanytales @randominstake

If I forgot about have mercy I am tired

#eddie munson series #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #Stalker! eddie #eddie smut

[writing-about-current-obsessions]

Sleepy

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x reader 

Words: 1686

Summary: Carlos finds an innovative way to ask a very important question. 

>Click here to check out my masterlist<

Carlos thought about it a lot. He even got so desperate he asked Lando and Charles for advice, which was a clear cry for help, in his opinion.

The thing is – they wanted to help, they really did, but neither of them had a good enough idea. Or better yet, a good idea at all. They suggested the basic stuff at first – reserve a table at a restaurant where you had a special date and hide the ring in dessert or propose during a sunset on the beach with a picnic set up nearby. Basically, all the nonsense that you would see in a typical rom-com. After a few drinks, their ideas started to get more and more ridiculous – from chartering a plane to write “Will you marry me?” in the sky, to training Piñon to bring a ring to her. Around that time, Carlos stopped listening and taking his friends seriously.

He didn’t want those romantic, over-the-top proposals, where you had to plan details weeks in advance so everything would be perfect. Public places were definitely out of question, because Carlos was sure she would not be too happy about that, but also because he didn’t want to risk being humiliated surrounded by people if she says no. Generally speaking, they were romantic towards one another, but mostly in the privacy of their own home. PDA was kept to a minimum, especially during race weekends in the paddock when there was a lot of media around. Their love language was physical touch and quality time spent together, without needing to go to fancy restaurants and buy each other expensive gifts. They were always very private about their relationship and Carlos didn’t feel like making a big deal out of their proposal because he felt like neither of them would enjoy it. Nevertheless, he wanted to do something special for her.

Simple, but unique. Romantic, but without being over the top. An act of love showing his true feelings, but in a way that would not freak her out. Do you see now what kind of conundrum Carlos was faced with?

He was carrying the precious box in his pocket, or in a bag, or suitcase, or wherever, for an outrageously long amount of time. Inside the box was a ring specially made for her that Carlos helped design with the help of his mother and with suggestions and expert craftsmanship of a jeweller in Madrid. For months Carlos paid close attention to the jewellery she was wearing in an attempt to figure out her style and what she would like to wear every day. He actually showed some photos they snapped together to his mother, showing her the necklaces, earrings, bracelets and rings his girlfriend loved to wear so he could get her input and help him choose.

And even though he made it clear from the beginning he wasn’t going to do that, Carlos had still planned everything to the smallest detail. He couldn’t help himself. Everything was organized a few days before and now it was go time. Carlos had set up all of it the night before, when he came late back to their apartment and she was already in bed. He put the bouquets of the flowers she liked on almost every flat surface of the living room and kitchen. He stocked the fridge with all the ingredients needed to make her absolute favourite breakfast in the morning and then tiptoed quietly to their bedroom. She stirred awake when Carlos settled next to her in bed and they fell asleep in each other’s arms after they exchanged a few soft kisses and tender words.

He woke up uncharacteristically early the next morning and finished executing the main part of his masterplan. He cooked quietly, unlike other mornings when they would put on some music while preparing breakfast together. Everything was plated and arranged nicely even before she woke up, so he went back to the bedroom to check up on her.

Carlos stared at her sleeping form half-covered by the thin blanket, her legs and arms spread wide. He always teased her about taking up most of the bed and almost kicking him out in their sleep a couple of times, but he secretly loved it because they always ended up snuggling together. Her hair was sprawled over the cushion and her hand was resting next to it. Carlos couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face as he watched the ring on her finger glinting in the weak sunlight peeking through the curtains. It was absolutely stunning and the perfect fit for her – Carlos managed to put it on her hand without disturbing her sleep in the slightest. Everything was ready and perfect.

Except he forgot one crucial thing. His girlfriend is the sleepiest (possibly even the grouchiest) creature in the world when she wakes up. Carlos often jokes about her sleeping like the dead and then acting like a zombie after waking up. This is why the ‘no talking in the morning’ rule was implemented with the utmost seriousness and a firm resolve, without any exceptions.

Carlos bet on her waking up and seeing the ring on her finger, and then completely freaking out about it. If that doesn’t wake her up, then what will? He returned to the bed and started peppering her with soft kisses all over her face. She stirred awake next to him and it was then that crossed his mind that maybe he underestimated the true power and extent of her sleepiness in the early hours of the day.

“Hermosa…”, Carlos whispered in her ear as he watched her face scrunch up in an adorable grimace. “Good morning.”

“Hmpf… Nope.”, she mumbled, eyes still closed.

Carlos chuckled, now moving to kiss along her jawline and moving to her neck. He took his time pecking her skin and tasting it, even nibbling a bit in a teasing way. She hummed in approval, but with her eyes not opening. She was clinging to the last remnants of sleep that were slowly evaporating from her body.

“Open your eyes.”, Carlos caressed her cheek, kissing the tip of her nose last.

“Coffee first.”, she countered in a croaky voice.

No matter the reprimand in her voice for waking her up, she pecked his lips and then his cheek lovingly before leisurely getting off the bed. Carlos sighed in frustration as he watched her exit their bedroom, the ring on her hand still unnoticed. How drowsy do you need to be not to notice a new piece of jewellery appearing on your hand overnight, he wondered with a smile.

Still, he hastily got off the bed because he didn’t want to miss the surprise on her face when she finally realizes. He caught up to her quickly, encircling her waist with his arms just as she came up to the kitchen doorway. She halted and gasped suddenly, whether from the sight or the way Carlos embraced her from behind, he wasn’t sure.

“Carlos!” she squealed in delight, laughing a little.

“Yes, mi amor?” he asked in a casual tone, like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Did you buy the whole flower shop?” she turned her head to look at him, her eyes wide and her mouth open in surprise.

He grinned wide, not saying anything and only planting a soft kiss on her lips.

She looked at him with wide eyes, slightly panicking. “Is it our anniversary?”

Carlos frowned. “No. That’s in five months.”

“Right. Yes.”, she stifled a yawn and nodded.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you went above and beyond.”, she laughed a little. “Thank you, Carlos.”

A squeal of delight escaped her throat when she noticed the abundant breakfast spread on the table, with a steaming cup of coffee being the first thing she picked out. She playfully scolded Carlos for making so much food for just the two of them, although she suspected that they will finish everything soon – from the omelette, the fruit and especially the pancakes. She sat on the stool at the kitchen island and Carlos wondered if he will have to take her hand and shove it in her face so she could notice the ring.

He stood in front of her and she immediately rested her head on his chest, leaning with half her bodyweight on him. Carlos engulfed her in an embrace and noticed her eyes fluttering closed. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her.

Once again, she yawned, now stifling a giggle at her own sleepiness.

“I have something that will wake you up.”, Carlos offered, rubbing her back soothingly.

“Oh, yeah?” she smiled and her eyes opened. “What is it?”

Carlos shook his head, smiling broadly. No matter how nervous he was about all of this, as she pulled away to look at him and he gazed into her eyes, Carlos was more than sure that she was the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He brushed a few strands of hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. He was smiling wider than ever and she looked at him funny, furrowing her eyebrows.

“You have this weird look on your face.”, she chuckled. “What did you do?”

“Look at your hand.”, he whispered, his heart thumping wildly against his ribcage.

Of course, she raised the wrong hand first and Carlos almost burst into laughter when he considered how silly this whole thing was. She held up her other hand and before she even got a good look at the ring glinting on her finger, she gasped and then gaped at him.

Finally, she was awake and alert. Her eyes big and rounds like saucers and her hand was frozen in place as she stared from the ring to Carlos. She was in complete shock while Carlos only had a satisfied smirk on his face.

He whispered her name and then uttered the words she was dreaming of hearing. “Will you marry me?”

"Carlos! You're going to give me a heart attack this early in the morning!"

#carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz oneshot #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz fanfiction #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #Carlos Sainz x ofc #carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz x female reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #carlos sainz fluff

[comicaurora]

These have been pent up for a while, so there's a whole list lol. Some are Aurora, some are not.

1) Can lacrimas carry out multiple purposes at once? Or will they blend them? I'm assuming that this is possible, considering that the automaton in the ruins was using a lacrima as a brain

2) Has anyone tried to make tools or weapons out of lacrimas? I'm talking like chisel that needs no hammer. Or maybe a Fire lacrima on a bow that sets your arrows on fire

3) Can you engrave runes on lacrimas to make them affect themselves?

4) Where can I read more about the Twins? If I'm not wrong they're the creator gods, aided by the Light dragon and the Void dragon to create life, but I might be getting a wrong read on that

5) Since we see Erin successfully become the first Void mage, does that now mean there's potential for him to make a Void lacrima? The dragon probably won't allow it, but still

6) What exactly does elemental corruption of each element do? Fire literally burns you up, as we saw in Arc 1. I can infer that Life likely makes you a chimera. Void corruption makes you a cave crawler. But what do the other one do? Does Earth make you a statue? Does Wind disintegrate you, Thanos style?

7) Now onto the non-Aurora questions, is your art vector or raster? I believe it's vector, but it's always better to confirm

8) What are your opinions on reading into the environment and the character design to infer things about the character themselves? In any type of media

9) Have you played Baldur's Gate 3?

10) Do you have any music that you'd recommend? I've listened to every song I liked so many times that I hate them now.

11) I'm new to Tumblr, anything that I should know? You don't have to answer this one if you don't wanna. I think I know some of the basics already. Reblog what you like, and avoid the terfs, right?

You might be able to tell that I like the idea of the lacrimas a little bit. Just a teensy bit. The artificer in me definitely isn't obsessed. I appreciate any answers you can give :3

Cheers!

Ooh, lots of stuff!

Yes, it's possible. A lacrima can be engraved with multiple spells, set in a casing engraved with commands, or some combination of the two. Typically, all spells engraved directly on a lacrima will activate at once when the lacrima is "switched on", but a spell can be quite complex, and conditional activations are possible - "if-then-else" statements, basically.

Yes, magic items exist.

Generally no. If the lacrima is disrupted or broken, the spell generally stops functioning, so a self-affecting lacrima will run only as long as it takes for the lacrima to distort or break.

There's an extra lore page about them!

He probably could if he wanted to (and the Dragon allowed it) but Void energy is very dangerous, so he likely doesn't want to.

Each form of elemental corruption agitates the presence of the element in the mage's body. Earth corruption can damage or alter bones, encourage unhealthy petrification of soft tissues, etc. Wind corruption can have physical effects but it often most obviously produces breakdowns in the person's ability to speak or understand language. Lightning damages, numbs or intensifies a person's physical senses.

Raster, I draw with CSP's digital pens. I've only very briefly experimented with vector art - I don't like how it simplifies the lines.

I think it's a fun school of analysis but, like all literary analysis, it runs into trouble if it tries to lock down exactly what the writer was thinking or intending (which is an objective fact that one can be incorrect about) rather than trying to analyze the story on its own and what meaning might, intentionally or unintentionally, be factoring into it.

Nope

don't trust my taste in music it's 90% nu metal and sonic OSTs

Like what you like, reblog what you want, generally it's considered dubious form to add a comment to a reblog unless you have something profound to contribute (commenting in the tags is fine), steer clear of discourse and callout posts and generally the sectors of the site that are constantly on fire, blocking someone for any reason is 100% fine

#asks #aurora #not aurora

[eosofspades]

quick n easy list of gentle coping mechanisms for bad mental health days / neurodivergent understimulation episodes!! some are more applicable to one or the other but when i'm feeling particularly like a tiger in a too-small enclosure i find doing at least a couple of these things helps me so much

drink water. basic, but annoyingly effective

eat a snack. same as above

stretch! even just some laying down stretches like pulling on your arms and knees (in fact, here's a great tiktok series for "depression stretches" and workouts/physical stimulation you can do laying down/without much movement)

music/podcasts/video essays. your favorite playlist you haven't listened to in a while, a podcast you like/have been meaning to start (i listen to podcasts while i'm drawing!)

draw/color! if you don't wanna draw, a coloring book is always fun. i actually prefer kids' ones.

read a book. i prefer physical books bc i know i'll get sucked back into the social media scrolling for hours if i try to read on my phone. i also recommend a nice tea/hot chocolate/juice with this one.

video games. this can be anything from minecraft to destiny 2, but i usually never give myself time for these, even when i have it (stuck in that phone scrolling). a more action-packed game for mental understimulation, maybe a more mellow one for a bad depression episode.

shower. i am fully aware this tends to take a lot of spoons but even just sitting under running water ALWAYS makes me feel better when i can manage it. it also helps me with adhd overstimulation!

clean/organize. this sounds counterintuitive but i actually do enjoy organizing stuff for understimulation, and cleaner workspaces help with the depression. even if it's something as simple as "put all the pencils on the desk back into the pencil cup."

puzzles/brain games. this one is almost exclusively for mental understimulation but once i get going it makes my depression SO MUCH BETTER, TOO. my niche is getting myself some algebra sheets but this can be anything from math to jigsaws to crosswords to word searches!! some kind of problem solving that engages your brain and requires focus. this one is my favorite because i find it really grounding.

playing an instrument. this is in the same vein as the last one! again, my personal niche is the piano, but this could be any sort of thing. in fact this could even be substituted for some kind of alt hobby all together, like knitting or crocheting or something! again, mostly for understimulation, but gives me the serotonin boost to get through the depression stuff as well.

this is all i have for my list, but i'd love for anyone to reblog and add their own stuff!!

#mine #long post #mental health #mental illness #adhd #adhd resources #neurodivergent #neurodivergent resources #i have been having. such a bad sad last few days and im actually SO angry about how miserable ive been feeling that i decided #to make this whole list for myself and hang it up on my desk just so i have something to do besides the endless social media/tv scrolling #and i hope this helps someone!!!!! i would really appreciate if you guys would reblog this #no pressure or anything but. if it helps

[imaginedanvrs]

my demon gave me everything

part 9 l masterlist

summary: dark!natasha romanoff x reader. Natasha Romanoff saves the world. Morals, lifestyle and past aside, the fact is that she puts her life on the line for everyone else. And for this, she believes she’s owed something. She saves billions of lives on the regular, so why not take the occasional one for herself?

word count: 2.2k

warnings: established kidnapping, physical and psychological abuse, power dynamics, manipulation, amputation, developing stockholm syndrone

Things turn into a blur after Natasha came back. She continued to routinely feed you light meals she prepared and plenty of fluids. Everytime she did it ended with her having to be insistent that you finish what she gave you as your appetite remained stubbornly poor. Between that and cleaning your ankle, Natasha put on different shows for you to watch on the TV she had brought into the room. The redhead always asked what you wanted but you rarely answered, unable to focus long enough to decide on something. Luckily for you, Natasha had looked back at your Netflix history and knew about the shows you pirated too so she was always able to pick something you liked for you. On the days you were particularly unresponsive, Natasha would put a documentary on instead as to have something in the background. She enjoyed those too and your comfort shows were starting to grow on her. 

  The record player was back too and one time Natasha put a disk on an album you used to listen to until you asked her to put her own music back on. You thought about the music you used to enjoy and found yourself uninterested in any of it, even the songs you listened to on loop before Natasha took you. For the time being, you wanted her music instead. The redhead liked that a lot. She had been tempted to put on some of her favourite movies but knew you were in no state to appreciate new visual media so she left it for a later time. All the more reason to get you better, she had thought to herself numerous times. 

  Mostly though, Natasha held you. She had you tucked up into her chest below her chin closer than she had before, as though she actually wanted the contact as much as you did. You tried not to entertain the idea, but it proved hard when you realised you could hear her heartbeat going a little faster than it used to. Perhaps you were just imagining things. You barely spoke a word to one another. There was so much yet so little to say that you both decided to settle with the comfortable silence that often filled the space.

  Your fever was eventually under control and your hallucinations ended, but Natasha couldn’t deny that there was no improvement in your ankle. She had been giving you the maximum dosage of the medication, all the right meals and drinks and ensured the area was always clean. She had encouraged all the undisturbed rest she could yet nothing changed. 

  Unfortunately, it was too little too late. One inspection from Strange told Natasha that your foot, and in fact the entire left leg beneath your knee, was unsalvageable. “Our choices are to amputate or let her die,” Strange said simply, never seeing the point in sugar coating news of that nature. 

  You were muttering something inaudible in your sleep as Natasha and Strange watched from the other side of the room. Your infection had spread and your bones were too damaged to respond to antibiotics if they were given again. Your cells had been eroded beyond what could be repaired and only left the redhead with two options. 

  “Are Banner and Stark at the tower?” Natasha asked after watching you fall unconscious again. 

  “They’re not surgeons, Romanoff,” Strange said firmly, knowing what the widow was applying. 

  “Is that a yes?” The Russian continued.

  “Yes,” he said after a beat.

  “Okay then,” she started as she came over to you and gently picked you up bridal style. Your eyes shot open at the motion and you gave the weakest cry Natasha had ever heard. Fortunately, the intense burning in your leg was enough to drag you back away from consciousness again. “Take us there,” the redhead instructed, leaving no room for arguing.

  Strange begrudgingly opened a portal right into the middle of Tony’s lab where the scientist stood with his arms raised in protest at the intrusion. He frowned once he caught sight of you and dropped his latest ironman helmet to inspect the scene before him. Natasha placed you down on the cleanest looking table as Strange began to explain to Tony what needed doing. The redhead didn’t hear them entirely because you were waking up and Natasha was more focused on ensuring you stayed asleep. She applied two fingers to the underside of your skull and pressed inwards enough for your body to become limp once more. 

  “Nice to finally meet one of them,” Stark quipped as he came over to inspect your leg out of curiosity. Natasha contained herself to a glare the scientist’s way. 

  “You have something to replace that leg with?” Natasha asked. 

  “I’ll be able to have U make something up, but we’re gonna need a clean cut.” Tony explained. Strange tusked and began rambling that a surgical amputation was far better than a straight one, but Natasha still didn’t want any hospitals involved and knew they wouldn’t be able to provide the same kind of replacement that Stark could. 

  “Do it, and I want the rest of them kept out of this,” Natasha said as she nodded to the door. Not all the Avengers were on the same wavelength as those in that room and the redhead didn’t feel like enduring the lecture that would come with them finding you. Tony nodded and ordered a lockdown of the lab as he wheeled the table over to a more contained area that he would be able to leave you in with U to reduce contamination and collected a small needle to ensure you stayed asleep for the next few hours.

  “Thanks,” Natasha nodded to Strange without meeting his eye, knowing exactly what he was making of the scene he had been called to. He nodded back without a word, knowing it best to keep his thoughts to himself for the time being and made his swift exit back to the Sanctum just as Tony sealed the doors on the containment room. The redhead watched on as Tony looked away as U produced a rotating saw and steadily brought it down on your infected limb. 

  The machine worked steadily and precisely in building and attaching a new leg to you. Natasha watched on the entire time to see the process and also ensure you were staying in your drug induced sleep. Tony didn’t make any more remarks for the next couple hours, recognising the look on Natasha’s face that told him he’d regret it if he did. He was naturally made curious by the encounter, knowing only the brief outline of what Natasha got up to in her own apartment. He, Strange and Fury were the only ones who knew of it, just as the Russian knew of some of the practices they got up to in their own time. The four had a mutual understanding that was necessary to keep things under wraps in a worst case scenario. 

  After several long hours, U was done. The results were…impressive. Natasha examined the false leg with interest, tracing her fingers over the fleshy material and finding it to hardly differ to the real thing. The ‘muscles’ didn’t relax like they would organically and there were several freckles missing. All in all, it was perfect. The redhead wondered how you would respond to it and whether or not she should even tell you at all. Tony informed her that you would likely know anyway because despite your own doubts, you did know your own body.

*

You woke up in a bathtub filled almost to the brim with water. The surface was mostly covered with a thin layer of bubbles, as though someone had added bubblebath to it at the beginning but not enough to make the heaps last long. It was only when you went to put your head back, suddenly feeling lightheaded, that you were alerted to the presence behind you as your head fell back against something solid. 

  “Hey, lastovichka,” Natasha mumbled against you as she placed a small kiss on your forehead. A tender gesture, one out of character for the redhead you reminded yourself. Such softness didn’t come naturally to the assassin. You didn’t respond. Your throat and mouth felt too dry to even attempt a word and continued to take in your surroundings. The redhead had her legs pressed against the outside of yours and her arms slung casually around your waist. You could feel her breasts against your back as you shifted with uncertainty. You loved it when Natasha held you in her bed but in the bath things felt… different, as though you were more aware of your surroundings including that of the assassin holding you so close and reminded yourself you couldn’t trust such warm acts.

  “Come on, we’ve been in here long enough,” Natasha instructed as she stood up gradually behind you to test how you were able to support yourself. To your surprise, you could hold yourself with ease, something that would have been out of the question just twelve hours prior. Miraculously, you were better. You took your leg out of the water to examine it as Natasha dried herself on, subtly observing you in the mirror. 

  You ran your fingertips down the unmarked skin where the nasty infection had been and frowned. Surely you hadn’t imagined the whole thing? It had felt all too real and yet there wasn’t a single trace of it happening. Your lower leg did have a certain stiffness to it but there was no pain and you could move it freely without any discomfort. 

  “My ankle…” you trailed off, unable to think of how to even phrase your queerie. 

  “It’s fixed,” Natasha stated in return, confirming that it had in fact been damaged. 

  “How long was I out?” You asked, still tracing your fingers over the area. 

  “About ten hours,” the redhead answered honestly. This time you turned to her.

  “You fixed that in ten hours?” You confirmed, never expecting the technology Natasha had access to to be so advanced. The Russian hummed in response and held out her hand for you to take to help get you up. You ignored it and went to get up yourself but unceremoniously slipped back down, spilling some water over the side. You flushed with embarrassment while Natasha simply raised a brow in question. 

  Begrudgingly, you took her hand and carefully eased yourself up and out of the bath without any support of your left leg. Though it looked perfectly fine, it seemed it was unable to hold any of your weight and instead buckled under it. You dried yourself off on the tub, thankfully not needing any help with that, and managed to hop back to the bedroom with Natasha’s arm under yours. It was irritably strenuous to make the small distance given that your muscles had all but disappeared and had become unpractised in transporting you. 

  You didn’t speak to the assassin for the rest of the day, too busy processing everything that had happened in…however long it had been. There was no way of telling how long you had been ill in that bed without asking the redhead and you weren’t sure you would trust her answer if she gave you one. You didn’t trust her at all. Nor did you understand her. You wanted to though. You were exhausted by the constant turmoil of emotions she created that you were incapable of keeping up with. She was cruel, that much you knew and you had learnt that even when she seemed nice, she would turn around and throw it back at you. 

  You had really believed she was going to kill you after she told you about all the other women she had before you. You believed it was the end of the road and that she was ready to start again with someone else, leaving you to die as isolated as she wished. Then suddenly she was nursing you back to health with more ‘care’ than you had ever seen or experienced from her before. You held your breath though, not trusting that it was genuine because you had no reason to. Admittedly, you hoped more than anything that it was sincere, you just had no way of ever knowing for sure. So you decided you would continue to walk on eggshells until you could get your bearings again. 

  Natasha was very much doing the same. You were unpredictable, then more than ever. The redhead had wondered if perhaps she had pushed you too far and you no longer wanted to be loved by her and that the hatred you had felt at the start was going to come back kicking. Every time the redhead watched you, she saw no indicator of any deciding emotion, only that of conflict. Natasha had of course seen it before and it always ended up being what finally broke them. The redhead didn’t want it to happen to you and could only wait to see if what you had told her weeks ago was still true: that you hoped Natasha would complete you.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dark!fic #dark!marvel #dark!natasha x reader #natasha x reader #black widow #marvel

[psychewritesbs]

15 questions for 15 mutuals

tagged by @darthdutton, thank you so much for the fun tag game and sorry I took so long to get to it! I’ve been on a much needed social media fast 🙏🏼.

are you named after anyone? No, I don’t think so. I think my dad just didn’t like my almost-name and liked the idea of me being “victorious”. Turns out the only way I’ve lived up to my name is by owning a bunch of dolls, wanting to be treated like a Queen and wanting to meet my Albert.

when was the last time you cried? um. In the shower about a week ago? I had to euthanize my 15 year old dog and I was suddenly struck by the grief of her loss since she’s been in my life for so long. 

do you have kids? I have three kittens.

do you use sarcasm a lot? only all the time.

what sports do you play/have you played?  Anything in physical education class at school. I always sucked at sports and was the last one to get picked when making teams. It was so embarrassing lol. I’m a good skier tho!

what's the first thing you notice about other people? idk, great question! I’ll pay more attention.

eye color? Dark brown.

scary movies or happy endings? Scary movies! Nothing against happy endings but... they gotta be realistic for me to like them.

any special talents? Overthinking.

where were you born? Wouldn’t you like to know?!!!!!! Even though I was raised in Mexico, I was born in the United States. I am privileged with a USAmerican passport.

what are your hobbies? watching anime, reading, writing, listening to music, dancing,trying out new restaurants/cafes, going on trips ( hate to copy ,but damn we do have the same taste x2)

do you have any pets? More like too many pets. I just euthanized my Min Pin, so now I only have 4 cats and a Border Collie. But I’ll be giving up 2 of the kittens up for adoption and most likely releasing Momo (the mom) once I spay her. 

how tall are you? Wouldn’t you like to know?!!!!! Average height in the US, tall in Mexico.

fave subject in school? Psychology, Math, Cultural Anthropology, Linguistics

dream job? idk because I've had amazing jobs where I felt so lucky to get paid to do work that I do but I’ve evolved... it used to be Marketing but I would like to get paid to use my Psychology nerdery next.

No pressure tags @justafrenchlondoner @sixth-vip @noa-ciharu @yamat0 @momoyamaguchi @linkspooky @incensuous @queen-asiad @ashleyfonthescreamofcreation

#tag games

[wil-dearest]

cathers-world asked: NSFW stalker!wilbur?

yeah why not, i always love a good stalker, me.

trigger warnings: 18+ for sure. stalking, duh, but still, be careful. gender-neutral reader. non-con, because you're asleep, so again, be careful while reading. leaning into simpbur. sorry. also mentions of suicide ideation, so there's that.

wil-dearest presents:

The Angels Made You For Me

If he'd been counting the days since he's started following you home, he would say it'd be a problem. But since his nasty habit began, he could confidently say it's been going on too long, perhaps, without much to show for it. He knows everything about you, about your schedule, about your habits, your friends- fucking. Everything.

He would consider trying to be more subtle about it but several times you've seen him, made direct eye contact with him and smiled, and yet nothing. He hasn't been arrested, hadn't been tackled by a concerned friend. Nothing has happened. And despite his lucky track, he still wanted more, wanted more from you.

He saw you first in the spring, when the flowers were blooming and he'd been in the park like you, except it was supposed to be his last day. His last day to live because, quite simply, nothing was really that fucking worth it anymore. Not the media, the music, definitely not the people, nature wasn't his last chance to convince him everything would be peaches and rainbows, it was his last meal. (Not physically, he'd ate two days ago and he could almost feel his ribs.) This was his last peaceful moment. He hadn't been entirely sure how he was going to go out, by gun or by jumping or by a vehicle- the possibilities were endless and with some sort of end in sight, it was easier to breathe in the park air and look around.

There you'd been, sitting with on a picnic blanket with a dog, bathing underneath the careful sun and soaking the day in. He had a brief moment of euphoria when you opened your squinting eyes completely and smiled, waving hello at him. Your smile froze him in his spot, where he'd been walking down the path and you tilted your head as he continued to stare. He started walking again, head forced to look straight as he tried to will away the blush dusting his cheeks and ears, as his mind couldn't focus on anything but your smile and the way you looked so damn... happy. Peaceful. Downright angelic, even.

Light footsteps crunch on the gravel louder and louder until they stopped behind him and he feels a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, it's you, your smile not as bright but just as genuine as your hand held out a phone. He sucked in a breath from his teeth, reaching out to take out the familiar device. He hadn't meant to but his fingers grazed your own and he couldn't help the way his heart leapt into his chest. Why was he feeling this way? Why was his chest contracting and why couldn't he breathe any easier? You said something and he feels almost bad when he asks you to repeat yourself.

Your smile widens as you glance downwards at your feet before looking up at him, "I said you better be careful with that thing, people won't always return it, you know." He nods.

"But you did," he says, rushed like he hadn't meant to say it at all.

Your smile doesn't dim, doesn't shrink, it deepens and he can see the beginnings of a laugh bubble inside of you. "I almost didn't." You say, and a hand reaches up to cover your mouth as you back up, laughing. Then you wave and you say goodbye and walk away back to your dog and your picnic blanket.

An old movie scratches inside of his head and it's as if he was transported back in time, listening to the music play and watching you sit back down, scratching the dog's back.

So this is love.

This particularly night, yes he lied he kept count, marks the six month since you had saved his life. Truly, without you, he would've been dead. He would've been another person to sink into the earth, forgotten and rotted. He would've taken his life and parted everyone with but a stench to his name.

There are days he regrets it but when he sees you again, it puts things in perspective.

So, he wants to do something special. He wants to be near you again. Following you home doesn't necessarily mean anything if he's more than a block away, keeping to himself and making sure no one else fucks with you. (If you deserved anything, it would be a peaceful, uneventful walk from the gas station to your home. And he would make sure of it a hundred, thousand times.)

It doesn't take much planning, he already knows so much about you already, if anything, slipping into your house feels... easy. Natural, despite it being anything but. In the end, it doesn't matter because your home is warm and smells so good, he knows you cooked before bed. Stepping lightly, he traces the walls with his fingers, taking in every detail he couldn't before, the photos framed on the wall, the decorations that, yes may be early, but you deserve happiness where you found it. Fall and Halloween, though already on the cusp of falling into season already, would have to be an everyday thing with how much you loved it so much. He wouldn't mind. He would never mind.

Your door already half-way opened, he peered around the edge, eyeing the form in your bed. It was you. You never took anybody home. (As if you knew he would be yours in the end, his mind whispers, logic bending and melding to his rose-colored feelings.) Never slept in anything more than a large, loose shirt. He doesn't immediately step in, watches as your chest rises and falls with every passing moment. You're... bewitching. Being near scratches an itch he only recently figured out. Being near you is so peaceful and so nerve-wracking at the same time, heart pounding, beating against the cages of his ribs, begging to tear its way out and settle into your hands, that were of no doubt, softer than any fabric the world could manufacture.

He steps into your room, hands shaking as they come up to lightly graze the walls in there too. With every step he takes closer to your bed, the more his hands shake and the more he chokes on his heart. There are thoughts racing inside his head, begging to leave and begging to leave you forever but how can he leave when you've done so much for him already? How can he leave right now, right now when he's come so far? He's lived without you for so long, he's not sure he can accept a life without being near you again.

The intoxicating scene of your room dizzies his head, spins his vision till he almost collapses over you, managing to catch himself after his knees buckled under his weight. You breathe deeply in and with every bated breath, he watches as you sigh out, shuffling in your sleep as your neck extends the other way, leaving it bare to him.

His head spins further as he releases a stolen breath, choosing to stand stock still, eyes catching onto any new detail he could see now, even in the dark. His fingers come over the edge of your bed and they burn when they touch your bare arm. Warm, soft. Just like he'd thought, like he remembered. His free hand comes up to cover his mouth, imagining it as yours and imagines that you've caught him, that you flip him onto the bed on his back, straddling his hips and pressing with a warm hand into his underwear, whispering sweet things into his neck and before he realizes it, his hand that had touched you- it had retracted back to his body, slipping underneath his pants and briefs, and squeezes around his cock. He almost couldn't contain himself, feeling the hardest he'd ever been, wanting nothing more than to sink the tip between your lips and send his seed down your throat. He wanted nothing more than that. The hand that covered his mouth lowered down, reaching out to brush the hair away from your neck, out of your face.

He leans down and inhales, soaking in how close you are, how you overwhelm his senses completely. His tongue darts out to wet his lips when an idea flashed in his head. It's there for a second before he leans closer, his tongue relishing in the taste of your skin, how hot you burn and how you sign against his touch, almost arching into it. He presses a kiss there and you move in your sleep again, almost hitting him in the process of batting whatever the hell was tickling you.

It's too much, too fast. His come coats the inside of his underwear and he has to pull away before he groans right into your ear.

He can't get any closer without waking you but you were nowhere near being ready for him. He slips out of your bedroom door, lips burning from where he kissed you. Yes, he kissed your sleeping face, from your forehead and cheeks, nose and chin to your lightly parted mouth. It didn't even last three seconds before he had to pull away, dragging himself out of your home and towards his.

His heart is pounding inside his chest but he knows you hold it, even whilst sleeping. And he hopes to one day hold yours.

And with hope and love, it could be soon.

#spencer writes #wilbur soot smut #dark content #tw stalking #tw noncon

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

my dysphoria has been very bad recently and i have found it very difficult to do things like showering, changing and sleeping especially. ive been over wearing my binder a lot because i find it very difficult to bring myself to take it off, and i keep wearing it for 30+ hours at a time which i know is bad but i currently have no other alternative and not wearing one feels worse than the pain i get by overwearing. i hate wearing sports bras and ive run out of transtape, i have ordered more but it probably won’t be coming for another couple of weeks. i don’t know what to do because i don’t want to damage my body severely, is there anything else i can do?

Lee says:

As you know, wearing a binder for extended periods can lead to severe health issues, including respiratory problems, rib fractures, and skin conditions.

When you feel like doing something that's harming you physically is your only option to cope because your dysphoria is that intense, you should look into getting a therapist.

Frequently binding for 30+ hours isn't a sustainable option and finding alternative coping strategies will be easier with professional help to help you deal with what you're doing through.

Two posts that might help with your specific questions are Staying clean and coping with shower-related dysphoria and Dysphoria when you have to sleep and those two posts really cover most of what I have to say on those subjects so I won't reinvent the wheel by typing the same thing but I encourage you to read both links.

Apart from that, in the next couple of weeks as you wait for your TransTape to arrive (And start the process of seeking a therapist!) here are some strategies you can try doing:

1. Layered Clothing:

Wearing loose, layered clothing can help obscure the chest area. Consider wearing baggy shirts, jackets, or vests to help reduce the visibility of your chest.

Luckily it's fall time (at least here in the East Coast) so it's starting to get a little bit cooler, some days, and I wear a sweater (at work) or sweatshirt (when at home) like 100% of the time just because I'm always cold and it's also an Autistic sensory friendly thing for me too.

See more: Body neutrality

2. Distraction Techniques:

Engage in activities that take your mind off your dysphoria. This could be reading, drawing, journaling, listening to music, watching movies or TV, or any other hobby or activity that you enjoy and find absorbing.

Engage in self-care activities that actually make you feel good about yourself, not just doomscrolling social media. And for those times when you are on social media, if you're currently following anyone who makes you stressed/unhappy, stop following them. It's your feed and you're in charge!

But if you find that it's hard to do the necessary activities of everyday living because you find yourself spending most of your time engaging in distraction techniques, and you're falling behind on homework/work, that's another sign that you need additional support from a mental health professional.

3. Grounding Techniques:

Practicing mindfulness can help you stay present and reduce distressing thoughts, but the kind of nebulous meditation stuff never worked well for my ADHD brain.

Guided meditation

15 meditation tips

How to do progressive muscle relaxation

Body scan relaxation exercise

Mindfulness skills and worksheets masterpost

Imagery

Imagery self-help

Relaxation

Relaxation audio

Safe-place visualization

I found specific things like grounding exercises, like the "5-4-3-2-1" technique (identifying five things you can see, four you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, and one you can taste), can help divert your attention from dysphoric feelings if you're having a Moment. This type of strategy is useful when you start to notice yourself spiraling to try and re-center yourself.

Soothing grounding exercise

Physical grounding exercise

Mental grounding exercise

Grounding techniques

How to make a grounding box

Grounding exercises

How to ground and center

4. Stay connected:

Connect with in-person and/or online LGBTQ+ support groups who understand what you're going through. Sharing your feelings and hearing from others who have similar experiences can be comforting and it can help you to learn new coping strategies and things to try.

In general, avoiding isolation is important. Join a club or volunteer for something, join a sports team, hang out with your friends, etc. Just don't stay alone in your room. Get out of the house if you can, or invite people over or have video calls or phone calls if aren't up to being out and about. Just stay in contact with people.

See more: Motivating yourself to socialize

5. Set Alarms:

Consider setting alarms or reminders to take off your binder and give your body a break. Even short breaks can help reduce the risk of injury.

Here are some links that may help in general:

9 strategies for dealing with body dysphoria

How do I deal with dysphoria?

20 Small Things To Do When Gender Dysphoria Gets You Down

25 Things I Do To Make My Body Dysphoria Feel Smaller and Quieter

More on coping with dysphoria

Dealing with dysphoria

A post with suggestions for coping with dysphoria

Take care of your mental health

8 tips for managing dysphoria and mental health

A coping tip

Disablity-friendly dysphoria tips

Dysphoria that prevents you from leaving the house/doing activities of daily living

Your feelings are valid, and it's essential to find ways to manage your dysphoria that prioritize your health and well-being. There isn't a secret dysphoria cure I can share with you, to be frank it just sucks sometimes and there's not a lot to do about it but you gotta find a way to cope and keep going and stay safe.

Eventually it gets better-- you either find a way to cope more effectively and manage the dysphoria and/or time just passes and you grow older and eventually find a way to access surgery, but either way you will eventually become an adult who is managing life somehow and overall doin' okay and yeah there's hope at the end of the tunnel so please keep going!

You deserve care, support, and understanding, even if your family isn't able to provide that right now. And again, apart from the two links that I started the response with, the main advice I have is that you should ask to speak with a therapist (even if you are closeted and don't tell your fam that it's gender/binding/dysphoria related) and just let them know that you're struggling with your mental health in general.

Please reach out for help if you need it, and consider seeking medical attention if you experience severe pain or discomfort from binding. Good luck!!

As some of you may have noticed, our blog has been around for a decade or so and some links may be broken because we're all busy etc so pls let me know if something is wonky in a post I'm trying to link to!

Followers, any advice for anon?

#Lee says #dysphoria #coping with dysphoria #chest m #binding #injury m #binding injury m

[bibibbon]

Characters with wasted potential: jirou kyokua

Thanks to @doodlegirl1998 for giving me some inspiration for Jirou's character and honestly Iam so sorry for taking such a long time to actually post about jirou.

My direction for this jirou rewrite is one where she doesn't become a hero as in the actual job but invents heroism in the music and media industry.

There isn't much to jirou in canon so I can't really critique anything.

Her design. I love her character design I guess the only thing I wanna add is that I want to see her sometimes just wear skirts or trousers when it comes to her school uniform

Jirous backstory. She is someone who has always had an interest in music and made it her escape during middle school because she would find the chaotic environment of school overbearing. Some people would try and isolate her because a rumor or a situation started where people became weary of her and her quirk thinking that she listens to peoples conversations and talks bad about them. However, she still had 2 friends that she could always rely on and she still talks to them in highschool

Jirou's friends at UA . For jirou UA is a fresh start for her she wants to be a hero and also make friends. She ends up befriending momo, tokoyami and becomes a minor friend with Izuku then the rest of class 1A. Since her and denki were paired up in the beginning he became the first person she talked to and by the time of the usj arc they became friends her friendship with denki was something that happend unexpectedly to her at least. Tokoyami and her bond over their taste in music and the fact that they just enjoy some peace and quite which is why she may be found hanging about in an art classroom with tokoyami and some quiet 1 A members at lunch. When it came to momo, jirou worked up the courage to ask momo to become her friend because she found momo cool and wanted to hang out with her. Momo accepted her request and they hit it of from there. For Izuku: one time jirou noticed that Izuku was feeling more nervous than usual (she could hear his heartbeat) and started a conversation to reassure him this then ended up getting them into a conversation where they both started talking about heroes and after izuku found out that jirou's favourite hero was present mic he ended up getting both him and her present mic signature. They aren't really close but they hang out every little while and help eachother out.

Jirou's UA arc. Through her time in UA she is making friends and trying to be a normal teenage girl but the villain attacks have started to make her and her parents both anxious and scared. At the usj everyone is feeling the impact of the usj and jirou is glad that everyone is well. Usj incident makes it so that her and her classmates coincidentally become closer and her parents+ middle school friends become a bit worried for her. This worry starts to decrease slowly as the year passes on and is immediately brought back stronger after the training camp arc. Jirou and her parents have a conversation suggesting that jirou shouldn't come back to the school and jirou feels inclined to agree but doesn't. She convinces her parents to stay and she does. However, she doesn't abandon the idea of leaving UA and ever since entering the dorms she feels like there's something of, instead of her worries being eased she is more panicked and it's affecting her negatively both mentally, physically and in her studies. This continues until after the school festival performance where she learns that gentle was going to attack the school. After her performance she also feels like music may be an actual career path she can take. All of these factors weight on her and she talks to present mic (who is her mentor) about it. He encourages and comforts her telling her whatever decision she chooses he will help her.

Jirou withdraws from the hero course. On a random weekend, jirou finds herself going home and she sees a thief who stole a woman's purse. She chases after the thief and gets the purse back for her. The woman is thankful and before parting ways reveals that she actually works for a news agency. It seems like her and jirou are heading towards the same area so they end up talking and jirou brings her passion for music, how she is conflicted about staying in UA or leaving, how she wants to help people and how she finally views her voice as something powerful that can help people. The lady offers jirou a role as her apprentice, telling jirou that if she chooses to leave UA that she can have a job with the journalist. Jirou accepts it and talks to her parents about it. Her parents seem to also agree with her and jirou makes the decision to leave. She wonders if she is being selfish leaving and how her classmates would think. She is dreading having to tell everyone but she does and as expected her classmates are upset that she is leaving but understand. Momo, tokoyami, denki and izuku are all supportive of her and ask her about what she plans to do, if she will visit them back and all that. Tenya reassures her that if she wishes to come back that there is always a place for her in 1A. Before jirou leaves the class decide to throw a leaving party and celebrate jirou's new start.

Present mic is her mentor and she interns with him

At the job/ apprentice. She starts to see the way of the media industry and how heroes fit into this elaborate scheme. One of her middle school friends does a UA business course and they choose to work closely both nitpicking the media industry. Jirou starts to see all the injustice and wants to give a voice to all these stories and issues that the news tires to cover or deems as unimportant. She talks to denki and momo about this. They suggest that she creates a website where she shares these stories in the form of videos or articles. Izuku and her business course friend suggest that she should make music about this. Izuku talks about her in the school festival and how her performance can influence people, how she can use her voice for the greater good to help people. She starts this website and labels herself earjack she talks about all sorts of things that she views as important and even opens up/critiques things that she finds wrong. The website starts to gain attraction and present mic finds it. He ends up promoting the website and even offers jirou an interview in one of his radio shows where they end up talking about things.

I would have jirou learn other things as well as promote her website. I personally think that due to her new found free time jirou would start learning things like first aid and trying to better her quirk.

During the war arc. I would have jirou put the skills she earned put to work. She ends up helping people as a first aider and working with the woman she met as news reporters raising awareness as to what happening in Japan.

Overall, I hope I done this justice I wanted at least one character to leave UA and I think that jirou is a great character for that. I wanted jirou's character arc to be about her gaining confidence and actually standing up for others and herself. Jirou is someone who is very closed off but also close with her friends she seems to be someone who is hard to approach but has a big heart and big passions. She doesn't think that heroics is for her especially after seeing the cruel reality of it so she starts to explore her opportunities within the media/ music industry and tackles the injustice she sees. She ends up making herself known well within the heroics and media industries earning the title of the earjack hero journalist

#mha jirou #jirou kyouka #mha #bnha #mha critical #bnha critical #hori is a bad writer #horikoshi critical #bhna critical #wasted potential #she deserves better #i kinda took way too much creative liberety with this #i hope i did her justice

[whinlatter]

Hi! I wanted to ask you what's your take on clothes and how wizards dress? I've been thinking about this since the 'gettin ready fot the party' scene. What's a typical wardrobe for typical wizard in te 90's? I always imagined that they just dress like muggles (or maybe the younger generations?), and i when i read the books i always had a hard time imagining them when they are trying to pass as muggles, you know? Like what, they don't understans which clothes are for a specific event? Because Harry says that he could tell thay dress a bit diffrent, like out of place. I mean, it's probably just meant to be funny, but, how isolated are they to not knowwhat muggles wear? I guess it also has to do with how they are raised, i imagine blood-supremacists (is that how it's called?) use only 'robes' (whatever that is, and, also, what's under those robes? like, a thong? do they wear muggle underwear? SO MANY QUESTIONS)

So, i was thinking about this instead of working🤠.

I liiive for that part with tonks' clothes, i even got a litlle "oh i wanna be thereeee and try everything and make everything fit with magic!"

And this how i imagine wizards dress (according to jkr) in the muggle world

ok please know that this image made me howl

thank you for the super interesting question! i have thought a bit about typical wizarding wardrobes and familiarity with muggle fashion among wizards in the 90s as a worldbuilding question in beasts. it's definitely true that wizarding familiarity with muggle dress is another one of those worldbuilding points in canon where the text is unclear and at times inconsistent. i know people have different views on how much wizarding and muggle culture interact, especially in matters of popular culture and fashion. i've heard very convincing arguments that the cultural insularity and physical remove of the wizarding community from muggles would mean most children raised in wizarding households, especially pureblood families like the weasleys, wouldn't know that much about how muggles plausibly dress, what they listen to, or what forms of media are popular (books, music, sports, even less so tv and film).

while i do agree with some aspects of this, in my approach to wizarding youth culture in the 90s, i think young witches and wizards on the left know more about muggle fashion than they do about many other aspects of muggle culture, and that interest and ability to pull off muggle fashion depends on a person's background, politics, gender (because mostly, it does all seem to be about trousers - i reckon pureblood supremacists, as you say, are in their undies most of the time), but especially generation and the politics/patterns of consumption in the time period when they were a teenager. i think your desire and ability to wear muggle clothing varies a lot if you're born in 1950 vs 1980, partly because of changing wizarding politics and the difference between growing up in peacetime vs a world at war, but partly because muggle fashion changes as a market in the second half of the twentieth century.

basically, i think these young progressive millennial wizards would wear more muggle clothing because of changes in muggle fashions/consumption that allow for greater availability and access to muggle clothing by the 1990s, as well as access to information about fashion and trends, and i think they would want to because willingness to embrace muggle fashions would be a way of showing their commitment to their own politics and forms of teenage rebellion that were distinct from those practiced by generations prior living through the first wizarding war. a longer discussion with my reasoning for this is below the cut!

so - in general, in canon, gen X wizards and older (so the youngest of them born in the 1950s thru 70s, and everyone older than that) seem to dress in muggle clothing really only as a protective measure to prevent exposure/risk breaking the statute of secrecy. when bob ogden goes to the gaunts' house in the 1920s, even as the head of a major ministry department dealing with law enforcement, he does a terrible job dressing as a muggle (the bathing suit, pls bob, i beg). if you look at all the wizards trying to dress as muggles for the world cup, it's clear that the adoption of muggle clothing, for most wizards, is a strategic, defensive move more than anything else. in PoS, mcgonagall - herself a progressive woman in her politics - disdains wizards who are celebrating the end of the first wizarding war by celebrating in the street "not even wearing muggle clothes", which she thinks is reckless and risks wizards' exposure (love when mcgonagall dresses like a muggle briefly at grimmauld place in OotP and it freaks harry out lol). there is no enthusiasm or interest in it - there's just conformity for self-preservation.

for that reason, i think you can see why those on the wizarding right in the mid-twentieth century, especially those drawn to pureblood and wizarding supremacy, would come to see dressing like a muggle as a disgrace, a sign of submission to a lesser people, in a way that would become extremely loaded in the years preceding and during the first wizarding war (1970-1981). when harry sees snape in the flashback to his first trip on the hogwarts express in the early 70s, he notices snape is already wearing his wizard robes very early on in the journey, which harry's narration supposes is because snape's happy to be out of his 'dreadful Muggle clothes' (DH). those muggle clothes were a sign both of snape's poverty but also his outsider status in muggle tinworth: special, because he's a wizard, but otherwise socially inferior to other children in every other way. snape, of course, is raised in a wizarding household with knowledge of magic but has been wearing muggle clothing to avoid detection for his entire childhood, in ways that imbue the wearing of wizarding clothes and casting off of muggle garms with great political significance. in canon, we see that the vast majority of wizards, while not death eaters or rabid pureblood supremacists, tend to be small c conservatives in their view of wizarding cultural norms and tend to think they're better than muggles even if they don't necessarily want to go out and kill them all. for that reason, they remain loyal to wizarding traditions, and continue to wear robes, partly as a symbol of their proud cultural identity as wizards, in ways that they would likely only cling to as their society moves towards open war over muggle-wizard relations (as you say, robes seem to be worn without trousers underneath, so most wizards are just wearing underwear under their robes and going about their day. slay, honestly).

so, if the right hate muggle clothes, then the willingness of gen z+ wizards to engage with and adopt aspects of muggle attire and culture might map onto a progressive political outlook and a disavowal of wizards-first ideology. but a person's politics alone doesn't mean they know how to pull off muggle clothing, and in the years of brewing tension then open war, most wouldn't bother risking their lives to be caught wearing a pair of bell bottoms. arthur weasley is the best example of this. arthur is theoretically interested in muggle clothes because he's a progressive man who disavows wizard supremacy and believes in principles of tolerance towards muggles. now, he's not good at knowing how to pair a plausible muggle outfits. this is because he still lives at a reasonable remove from wizards, he's extremely busy with a demanding job and seven children to be staying up to date with changing fashions, and at the end of the day still spends most of his week among wizards in a civil service that demands a certain level of professional conformity. but i think it's also because arthur weasley is born in 1950 and therefore spent his young adulthood trying to raise a young family during a war. arthur instead channels his politics into support for muggle protection legislation rather than in wearing muggle clothing, which he might see as a limited individual act of symbolic resistance that would put his family at risk and also cost time and money he doesn't have. (if we look at the marauders, as an example of a progressive bunch in the interim generation between arthur and arthur's children, especially someone like sirius with greater financial freedom, it's very telling that sirius shows his politics off through riding a cool muggle motorbike and sticking up muggle soft porn on his bedroom walls, but not noticeably through fashion, as far as harry's photographs show).

but if you look at arthur's children, progressive wizarding millennials, it seems like more confident familiarity with muggle fashions and culture is generally more common. i think we can include someone like tonks in this, raised in a mixed marriage household by a blood traitor and a muggleborn dad. harry says that the weasley children are better than their parents at dressing like muggles. when harry sees bill weasley he doesn't think 'this is a man who looks like he's done a bad job dressing for a muggle rock concert' he thinks 'this is a man who looks like he could be going to a rock concert'. this suggests to me a difference, say, between bill and his dad. arthur likes muggles and believes engaging with muggle culture is important, but doesn't really succeed at it, but his eldest son manages to marry both a political commitment to embracing muggle culture with an ability to dress plausibly as a muggle so much so that he's able to ape a subculture in a way his dad doesn't really try to often and has never succeeded at.

why? i think there's a few things going on. one is that the majority wizarding millennials grew up in peacetime, after the fall of voldemort, in the 1980s and 90s, where wearing muggle clothing was less likely to get you killed and more likely to symbolise an individual act of rebellion against more low-level societal norms and cultural pressures rather than against a murderer in a mask. this, plus having the time and disposable income to follow muggle fashions more closely, as well as the opportunity to access about muggle fashions and celebrity styles, has a big part to play. bill weasley has more time and ability than his dad to stay up to date about muggle clothing tastes, as do his siblings. characters who went to hogwarts in the 80s and 90s also did so at the peak of a mass print consumer culture (one that was already on an upward ascent since the 60s) that was designed to be be accessible, inexpensive and create an appetite for following trends among consumers, and that could very easily be of appeal to progressive young witches and wizards. this is why in beasts i have ginny know about the spice girls and their iconic lewks from a copy of smash hits magazine because that seemed like the kind of inexpensive and highly portable source of information about muggle culture that a muggleborn or halfblood student (or even a pureblooded student with a parent with a progressive interest in muggle clothing) would be able to take to school and pass around a dormitory. on the gender point, too - donning muggle clothes, especially the more permissive and sexy clothing of the 80s and 90s would be a great way for a rebellious young woman raised in a wizarding household - eg. tonks or ginny - to stick it to the conservative gender norms in the wizarding world.

moreover, the changes in fashion as a market in the muggle world would make a certain base style of comfortable and inexpensive muggle dress much more readily available to younger witches and wizards than ever before. for kids born in the late 70s/80s, changes in muggle clothes consumption - aka. the globalisation of mass factory production of textiles, especially garments, and the early forms of fast fashion we now recognise today - would also have an impact on the ready availability of certain basic forms of cheap muggle fashion, including the ubiquity of cheap jeans and trainers/sneakers, that emphasise comfort and ease of daily wear at a low cost point produced in such high volumes such that if you wanted a pair of jeans, you could easily get your hands on one. this would have made a plausible muggle clothing a lot more accessible (there's only so wrong you can go if you're just wearing jeans, t-shirt, a jumper, and a pair of trainers, really), and explain why the clothes harry wears in the muggle world don't seem all that different from the clothes he wears in the wizarding world (admittedly usually under his robes), or indeed that different from what ron seems to wear most of the time. passing as a muggle in 1920 with little effort - à la bob ogden - would be a lot harder than doing so in 1990.

so - yeah. that's my take! i think it's mostly about generation, but also about politics, about war and peace, a bit about gender and a lot about capitalism. i hope this helps!

#wizarding culture #meta #analysis #wizarding clothing #beasts #hp meta #loved answering this thank you so much!

[jewishbarbies]

Forgive me but I have so much I can say about this that it physically hurts that her fans believe this nonsense…

“she has always been on the frontlines of change in the industry and setting trends”

When?

“she literally changed the demographic of country music from just being for/about older women to teen girls”

There were female artists before that those “older women” listened to when they were teens. When Taylor’s fans are older women there will be a new singer that teens listen to. It’s how the music industry and freaking aging works. 

“she was one of the first people to really centralize social media in marketing”

She’s literally not. The singers that came up in the early 2000s are. They think 2006 is when the internet was being utilised for promoting singers because of Taylor. Google was invented in 1998. Social media & the internet was being used for almost a decade before. JLO is the reason google images was created for goodness sake.  

“she left RCA because she felt that even if they gave her a good deal they would diminish other writers on the label.”

Do they really think she’s the only so singer to leave or stand up to their label. Britney Spears stole her upcoming song from her label and released it to a radio station in 2004/05. 

“she unabashedly writes about her feelings as a young girl and a woman despite getting shit for it at every turn.”

Most female artists who came before her have struggled with this. Dolly Parton would win awards and get up on stage and not be allowed to speak because her MALE partner spoke for her. Even though Dolly was doing all the work. 

“she's one of the first artists to successfully transfer genres from country to pop.”

This is just false. It happens all the time. Not to mention it happens with different genres and artists all the time. 

“she stood up against streaming when literally no other artist did, got them to change some of their policies”

Because she’s the only one that is selfish enough to publicly pick a fight with someone and pretend it’s got nothing to do with her own bank account. Even when I was a fan of hers I knew she was doing it for herself. 

“yet now the exact thing she was worried about has happened.”

Because she was greedy and arrogant and didn’t buy the masters when they were offered to her because she thinks she better than everyone. 

“her move into pop music was completely different than the type of pop that was being made at the time and it influenced pop for years to come.”

Am I deaf? She stuck to the pop model created by those before her to make sure she was successful. Madonna, Janet Jackson, Britney Spears, Billie Eilish they all took risks with their music and careers to push the envelope and change the sound of pop. Not Taylor “stick to the formula” Swift. 

“all before the me too movement.”

The act TS did herself was admirable but this sentence. This belief that this Swiftie (and potentially other Swifties too) have is a slap in the face to what this movement initially represented and what it meant for women who had endured this. 

“her rerecording process is the first of its kind to be this successful and others are now following suit.”

Wtf does this sentence even mean. They don’t know sh*t about her recording process especially in comparison to other artist. Are they seriously so deluded to think no artist was successful before Taylor. How can they compare her to anyone if they believe this. This statement alone makes it sound like she is the reason music is successful. 

“the way she publicized her fight to own her masters”

Yes for public sympathy cause she’s a narcissist. 

“she also basically started the crop top set trend of the mid 2010s”

One quick google search and this is what I found. “Although the crop top first gained prominence in the fashion industry during the 1930s and 1940s - the latter in particular due to fabric rationing in World War II” I’m sure if I spent more time researching I could find more. But I also know it became very popular in the 1970s with men and carried in through to the 80s and 90s for men and women. Then the 2000s was when the trend reignited. 

“heavily influenced the twee fashion of early 2010s”

This is not the compliment they think it is. This fashion trend is layered with the issues. Her racist fans probably love it because it’s a style that is deemed acceptable by those Hampton holidaying rich white mothers and fathers that got sent to boarding school in England when they were young (I hope that analogy makes sense). It was also equated to thinness particularly at the time it was popularised. Not to mention you google Twee and the pictures you see are if Jess from New Girl, Blair Waldorf from Gossip Girl (a character from a 2000s show) and Alexa Chung. 

Also such a bizarre way to end their long winded rant. 

They are all so blatantly ignorant and stupid. I wasn’t going to say stupid but it really is all it is at this point. They are stuck in this cult they can’t even make reasonable arguments anymore. It’s exhausting constantly being bombarded with them all in every facet of life. I see so many videos of Swifties singing her music in public settings like that video of them on the plane, if I was on that plane I’d have jumped out of it, and it’s just infuriating the lack of respect they have for the rest of the world. Yet they expect everyone to respect and worship their cult leader. It’s disgusting and exhausting. 

Sorry this was so long. I don’t have many followers and I know you’re a safe space for people who don’t like her. And I feel like this is something others might agree with. 

#Asks #anonymoose #anti taylor swift #swifties dni #long post

[emidealia]

pick a number to get a self-development habit for you

pick any number from 1-6, you may even pick more than one.

take this as advice :)

1 2 3 4 5 6

1

start listening to podcasts! they are incredible! they can change your perspectives and you'll learn about anything you wish and also don’t wish for (haha, in a good mind broadening way). I get so much inspiration to be productive, artistic, kind, positive and healthy when hearing about such habits that have worked on real people whom i like. It’s also helpful because my hands get bored and i usually draw, clean, solve puzzles etc. try it out! i enjoy natalie cuomo and emma chamberlain, more on the entertainment side i like morbid! about true crime. but don’t surround yourself with too much crime and depression talk either if it doesn’t teach you survival tips and ways to function with mental illness. be mindful of the media you interact with!

2

start organising your mind and space. no need for a lot of clutter. cleaning your home is self-explanatory. hype yourself with music or podcasts. but to clean your mind start journaling it out, meditating to get to the root of your emotions, planning your day and week. keeping it all inside your head is tiring. remember, motivation comes from action! don’t wait for “the perfect moment” to get it together.

3

pampering day! care for yourself as you’d do for young version of you. warm bath, your favorite bath bomb or that nice perfume, fresh sheets, your favorite movie, maybe talking to a loved one. find out what you inner child is missing? is it care, is it fun, rest, maybe the wrong attitude to yourself? be kind to yourself today! i’m sure you’ll find a way to!

4

explore! a new route in nature, notice the details of your everyday walk to work. refresh your mind with finding a new hobby or watching videos about your sudden interests. what is it you’ve always wanted to do if nothing stopped you?

5

go on a walk right now! your body needs to move. do a small dance. or even bed yoga, yes it’s a thing. i myself have found stiffness to make me uncomfortable, unconfident and even shy. all only negative emotions. i hope i do not need to go in detail about how crucial physical activity is for your mental well-being. exercise quite literally increases serotonin and dopamine levels.

6

oh well you’re perfect already, you don’t need anything else. no, just kidding. be honest to yourself. is there anything that came to mind when reading the first sentence? something could be bugging you that you’re ignoring. you have the solutions to get rid of this thing that’s been bugging you. talk it out: journal, meditate. supressing emotions and thoughts is not the solution :)

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

#pac #tarot reading #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a number #reading #advice #better habits #habits #self development #tarot #2023 #pick a pile #pac reading

[cumsockwoundpack]

LAST SEMESTER: Ch. 1. (t4t boydyke yaoi)

You've known eachother for a while, since freshman year. You were both at the same dive bar for the same local punk show since you saw the same flyer. They were the only other one to get up off their stool and at least halfassedly go through the pantomime of the mosh, the collective ritual. Wiry little fucker throwing their bodyweight at you. Pack bonding.

You both went out for smokes, looked at eachothers' hands, the sharpie'd-on X marks, the veins, the knuckles. Your sight lingered. So did theirs. You promptly lit your smokes and started shooting the shit about how "Ohhh, Man, Remember When Ceremony Stopped Doing Hardcore?" and "man I wish skinheads didn't ruin being a skinhead," and "new HKFY's fucking sick, right? Can I kill the rest of your ciggie? by the way what's your-"

His name's Ted. Ted and Jack. Rolled off the tongue a little.

You were fast friends after that - genuinely! Really good friends. Like two shounen protags.

Really. Just good friends.

You were at the local community college for trade school, they were there for music. You played bass because you were a caveman, they played guitar because they were smart.

You'd jam together, hanging out, watching movies, smoking weed. Tripped together in the dorms a couple times. Did molly together without fucking, somehow. Lord knows that's an achievement.

Somewhere in the four years between then and now, you both crystallized the realizations people have after listening to Tracy Chapman and being inexorably, inexplicably drawn to other likeminded freaks their whole lives. Dykes are like Stand users.

You got on your meds, started going by Jackie, made sure to lift here and there to keep your muscles from atrophy, he got on his meds and suddenly started spending a lot of time locked in his room. You both had your flings and conquests, sharing enough locker-room chirps with eachother to brag but not enough to break the aura of mutual chivalry. He also got a lot better at guitar - you'd know, you always paid (a completely normal amount of!) attention to his left-hand fretwork, his handling of the pick, his tendons underneath the skin as they flexed so deftly-

You blink.

You're in the drivers seat of your car, clutching the wheel a little too tight in the driveway of his new apartment - he finally moved out of the dorms for these last few weeks of your shared school career. You cut the engine and poke him to wake him up (he's kinda cute when he knocks out in the car like that. you're supposed to call the homies cute, right?)

"Aw, cute li'l thing, got tired? It's a fucken half hour car ride, dude, get up."

You hit the cabin lights to drive the point home.

"Mmnh... huh? Whuh?" -- he blinks, looks a little flustered. Not just disgruntled from an abrupt wake-up. Flushed cheeks, bashful little pout. (Why did you say that?) -- "We're here? Fuckin, help me get furniture in, then grab your amp. Gotta christen the home by pissing off the neighbors."

The apartment is a 1 bedroom, bare, all cold hardwood save for necessary kitchen appliances. He brought his desk, his bike, a new mattress, his stereo system coupled with all his physical media, a toolbag (put together from your recommendations), his laptop, his guitar and gear, and not much else. Clothes arranged on the floor in various states of disarray.

After bringing most of it in, working up a sweat, you cap it off by making some ramen to shovel down your gullets before getting down to business.

You both plug in, sit cross-legged facing eachother. You tune up and play for what seems like a few minutes but what the clock says to be hours, letting your attention wander since the less you think about what you're doing, the easier it is to stay in the groove, to keep the beat, to stay in-pocket. You keep time by looking at his left hand, as always. Thinking about when the next show's gonna be, whether that one DIY venue's finally gonna get their shit together and learn to not stiff local bands, when you'll find your next drummer (If you think male drummers are drama-magnets, lesbian drummers are worse, hands-down.), what the pit's gonna look like, the way he bounces off you to get momentum going.

His huffs of frustration when he fudges a chord, when the strings rattle and buzz, his bit lip, his furrowed brow, the sway of his head, his shoulders, the tap of his foot as it swivels on the heel, the way the heel-taps make the keys on his belt rattle, the DYKE PRIDE tattoo on his upper arm all sinew and tension and sweat despite the midwinter room temp, his black-brown-stress-grey stubble tracing a line from the temples to the jaw, his bit lip again -

"Jackie, baby, you've been playing that same open E string for the past, like, 15 bars... Why's your face so red? You good, girlie? Need a breather? I know I'm hard to keep up with."

"Fuck UP, dude. Talk shit when you aren't abusing those weezer powerchords like they owe you money."

"Ahh, I'm just messing with ya. It's, uh,".-he scratches the fade on the back of his neck - "getting late. It's like 11. You should probably head back. I don't wanna make you sleep on the floor."

What a great friend! You shake off the impression of wherever your mind was wandering and gather your things, you hop in the car, wave goodbye, turn the key - Nothing.

Must have left the cabin light on.

He's still looking at you.

Fuck.

You turn the key again. Fuck. Fuck. He doesn't have a car on hand. Fuck. It's late.

Ugh. He's knocking on the window.

"My battery's dead."

He deliberates internally for a moment.

You think about reclining the carseat and saying fuck it. You don't want to intrude.

"Ah, hell, it's Friday. Neither of us have shit better to do tomorrow. Come back inside."

You grab the hoodie from your backseat and put it on. Listen, it might be hardwood flooring, it might be like 50 degrees, but it beats sleeping in the car. Once you're curled up in the middle of the living room using a couple of his t-shirts as pillows and getting ready to sleep, he comes out of the bathroom brushing his teeth. In his boxers. Fuzzy legs. Treasure trail. Sweat on the inked barbed wire covering his chest scars. Looking at you almost like you're roadkill on his tire, utterly baffled at what you're doing.

"You nnmmoww you djon't, ope," - he zips back to the sink, spits, rinses, comes back out - "you know I said I didn't wanna make you sleep on the floor, dude. You're a friend. We're good. It's camaraderie. C'mon, get in bed. S'fuckin cozy."

You lay on opposite sides of the queen bed but, y'know, not overly spaced-out since you're not trying to, y'know, employ any no-homo buffer distance, but just, cuz, y'know, you're really good friends and you're comfortable with eachother. Right. Yeah. Gosh, these are nice sheets. Good at keeping the heat in. Li'l too good.

"Ted."

"Yeah?"

"Do you mind if I strip? i'll keep underwear on or whatever but this fucking hoodie is a bit too m-"

"Woman, I have held you over the toilet by the fucking scalp when you couldn't handle a couple vodka sodas."

"Sorry, I-"

"We have both asked eachother terribly embarrassing medical questions and given equally mortifying aid in the pits of uninsured existence."

"Jeez-"

"Besides, you already know my taste in women. You're fine. No stress."

"You sure?"

"Fucking strip, idiot."

You blush. Thankfully the lights are off.

He starts snoring surprisingly quickly. How cute!

Hey. Wait. Let's examine that. What the fuck has been with you today? It's not your first rodeo when it comes to your brain insisting that you shit where you eat, but him?? Him?? Fucking "Aww, cute li'l thing"? Christ. You half-consider propositioning him at some point tomorrow just for a quickie, like getting a song out of your head by singing it. Hell, you know he'd prolly agree to it out of sheer jackass bravado. He said it himself, you've both done worse.

But you don't need that. It's a line in the sand. He wouldn't look at you the same, despite both your best efforts. There'd be tension. You don't want to fuck this up. You drift off thinking about talking to your doctor to lower your progesterone dose, maybe that's what's got you so hot and bothered. The blankets are warm.

Waking up a few hours later, the first thing you notice is that you have to piss. The second thing you notice is his snored breath flitting across your ear. The third, fourth, and fifth things in quick succession are his arm around you, the fuzz on his chest pressed against your back, and the warm, granite-carved hand placed on your breast.

It's there gently, fingers splayed across it, a pleasant weight, and he's still 100% knocked out, so you quietly peel it off, set his arm by his side, and get up to piss. You explain it away as "Oh, he's a boydyke Casanova running on autopilot, that tender scamp," etc.

Though, it felt nice.

Felt too nice.

You shake it off and go back to bed.

You settle in under the covers. He's on his back and he looks agitated. Still sweating. God, the sweat. Neither of you showered, the day lays thick on your skin and almost fogs up thicker under the blanket. It overwhelms your sense of smell, it coats your sinuses.

He's shaking a bit. Little grunts n murmurs of fear and discomfort. You wonder if he's having a nightmare. Oh, poor thing.

Before you can think about it, you have your arms around him, your warmth pressed against his. It doesn't seem to do much, though; he's still tossing and fidgeting.

"Mmnh....Hey...."

You freeze. Oh god.

He snores again and his face screws up even harder in his sleep. Oh, oh thank God, he's still knocked out. That would have been embarrassing. You think about what you're doing. You think about the inevitable scene beef, the "Oh, Jackie? That fucking creep?-" coming out of his mouth and you try not to think about how much that'd hurt.

You think about how he smells nice.

He rustles again. You pull him in closer.

"..........mff, fuuuUuuuuhhgck," he whines, eyes still closed, still lightly snoring on the inhale, face still contorted in agony, wait, no, it's, oh, you realize it's not just sweat you're smelling as you feel the damp spot on his boxers rubbing on your thigh.

"Fuck, Jackie....," He's still asleep. It's not a nightmare. And it's about you.

And now you're hard.

And he's grinding on your leg,

"Jackieeeeeeeee........"

And his face is buried in your tits, his face so taut, pressing into your sternum hard enough he's suffocating himself and you're frozen still and

His eyes snap open as something deep within the limbic system reminds him he needs oxygen, he pulls his face away, scrambles back, takes a deep, DEEP fucking breath, and now you're BOTH looking at eachothers' eyes, horrified, breaths stuck in throats. He's cute when he's scared.

And then he looks you down. Then back up. Then back down, where it's definitely too late for modesty. Then back up.

You notice you were drooling. He does too. You see him set his jaw. You see his brown eyes crystallize, noticeable even in the low light. He's hungry.

"You're cute when you're scared," he says.

And then your lips are locked.

[ch2 link] [ch3 link]

[rabbitsrams]

here's part two of the jschlatt x neurodivergent! reader bc i can't get enough of it😭i made a whole list of headcannons in the car this morning enjoy

(also kasey i hope u see this <3)

♡ listening to music in the car with him and ur kinda just in ur own world stimming to the music but also u belt the lyrics with him lol it depends on the song

♡ he listens so intently to your infodumps about your special interests and hyperfixations

♡ and depending on what it is he actually gets into your special interest if he’s interested enough

♡ the first time you did that you apologized a lot but he assured you it was okay and he wanted to hear it

♡ and ofc him wanting to buy you anything and everything related to it

♡ you into a certain media? expect merch from that

♡ you have a hobby that requires things? he buys you an entire stock

♡ buys you all the physical media for your music/tv/movie/what have you special interest

♡ absolutely loves seeing you get excited over your special interest, he thinks you’re so cute when you’re all giddy and stuff🥹

♡ always has a backup pair of headphones if you need them :(

♡ especially if you’re in a loud place and need the noise muffled

♡ if you get sensory overload and you need to leave a place he guides you out and waits with you till you’re okay

♡ if you have trouble forming sentences and words verbally (like i do) he’s very patient. waits for you to finish your thought and helps if you need

♡ okay hear me out: kissing him as a stim

♡ like if you’re cuddling or something and you kiss his cheek or lips or wherever

♡ and you just start to do it more as a stim

♡ oh he LOVES it

♡ cuz more kisses from you!!!

♡ eases up on any sort of teasing if social cues and distinguishing tones is difficult for you

♡ if you can handle it then it’s okay but if you tell him not to tease then he stops immediately

♡ also learns text tone indicators and uses them when needed

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt fanfiction #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x reader #schlatt imagine #schlatt fluff #jschlatt fluff #jschlatt headcanons #schlatt hcs #schlatt fanfic

[myobsessionsspace]

No One Can Please Everyone All of The Time

There’s a reason why they chose this imagery…

There are few that can say they have lived through these 7 men’s exact lives and had their exact experiences.

The most criticism the majority of us face is from our parents, nasty school peers, competitive or jealous colleagues, mean bosses or fake friends etc.

Not only are the aforementioned types of characters also what these men may also face, they in addition to that, face the eyes of not just their country, but millions from each continent in the world. From fans, to people who wish them failure, from family and friends to local and international news and media outlets. Any misstep is not judged by just a few, but by quite literally THE WORLD.

Kpop has always faced criticism for the ruthless model enforced, from unpaid trainees, to the imposition of health damaging body ideals, to physical and mental mistreatment. Before even crossing over to other countries expectations, the idol industry already have their own damaging ones.

Whatever expectations western celebrities have placed on them, by fans and the general public, kpop idols have those and more, even without the level wealth and fame their western counterparts do.

Su!c!de has been a hot topic for South East Asia for years and even more highlighted within the kpop industry. The harsh pressures placed upon these idols do not go without consequence, however the consequences rarely befalls those who place such weight on their shoulders, but it comes down hard on the idols themselves.

“Netizens say…”

“Netizens are divided…”

“Netizens demand…”

“Netizens speak out against…”

“Netizens criticise…”

Whilst their western counterparts face public scrutiny, disdain, boycotting and harassment for their drug use, accusations of DV, grape, sh♾️tings etc kpop idols face the same level, if not more for their ‘scandals’ and ‘incidents.’ However, unlike their western counterparts these idols aren’t being out to task for actual cr!mes, but for shattering the idol illusion. Idols are boycotted, st@lked, and publicly harangued for dating ‘scandals’, partying ‘scandals’, listening to a controversial artist, smoking or drinking.

**And Yes, there are bigger cr!mes and scandals that have come from the k-entertainment industry, such as burning sun, abuse of different natures between trainees and fr@ud cases. This is however about the level of outrage faced by idols vs the severity/cr!minality of their ‘scandal’**

Kpop idols are treated near the same or sometimes worse, for everyday activities that millions or billions of the earth’s inhabitants partake in, because they happen to have come from a specific country and culture. A country that with values replicated in their entertainment industry, an industry that places the utmost value in respectability, appearances, marketability and being a desirable blank slate for others to be able to easily IDOLISE.

Well…why not?

It’s understandable wanting the best for those you love.

It’s understandable feeling invested in people you’ve given countless hours of times and energy and hard earned cash to.

When you’ve stood by someone through thick and thin and fought in their behalf, it’s disheartening.

When they no longer ‘hold up their end’ by giving you the music you enjoy, the outfits you find pleasing, their full heart to you and no other man or woman, the habits, interests or characteristics that you approve of it’s disappointing.

Some may even find it angering and disrespectful to them.

Those resulting feelings are understandable. Feelings are individual and valid TO THE INDIVIDUAL.

However it’s also understandable that the idols, also people too also want to make the music THEY enjoy, wear the outfits THEY find pleasing, have their hearts full of who THEY chose, have their habits, interests and characteristics be that of which THEY feel comfortable with.

That’s also understandable.

So how do the two work?

Food for thought

How reasonable is it to ask of one man or one group to all aim to continuously please their fans of millions from different countries and cultures, of different morals and sensibilities?

Instead of expecting for one to be able to please all, would it not be easier for any that aren’t pleased to cast that one idol or group aside? To no longer invest time, money and energy in them?

It may be oversimplifying a number of matters.

Like everything it’s a matter of opinion.

💜

#BTS #RM #Jungkook #Jikook