#we might use something to prop ourselves up with but that’s it

[mars-mystic]

Hiii Glance is something I hadn't considered before at all, wanna share some of the appeal?

I am very confused but intrigued

I’m gonna let you in on a little secret nonny, follow me. *takes you by the hand and leads you through many well lit corridors, ending with a final door. It is simple, but welcoming, already propped open for you.*

This is where the magic happens. *you step into a room. It is brightly lit, and filled with animate conversation. However, neither George nor Lance is anywhere to be found*

What’s this, you say. I thought you were gonna show me the appeal of glance. *I nod, cryptically*

I am. *as we walk around the room you begin to notice a large group forming around one corner. As we walk by, a massive cheer goes up, turning everybody’s heads*

What was that, you ask.

They did a thing, I say, grinning. We’ll come back once you’ve finished your tour. *we walk around the room in companionable silence, a few eyes on us, watching me, watching you.*

Do you get it now?

It’s just a bunch of people in a room, you say, confused. I wanted the appeal. Tell me about their history, their canon events. Do they even interact at all?

Oh that doesn’t matter, I say with a smile. It’s all about the people. The community. We built this place for ourselves, for our stories. So that we could share them with each other, and you. That’s the appeal. Glance is whatever you want to make of it.

***

Ok but listen up. They do have history. The raced together all the time as kids. They have a rivalry. They were somehow always around each other. They share a birth year. They never talk to each other anymore. Doesn’t it make you curious? Don’t you wonder what happened? What’s going on?

That’s the beauty of glance, how little we know about them. We don’t know their full history, but we know enough to be compelled. The rest is all guesswork babeyy, and it’s FUN. (I’m sure there are people out there who could give you a better idea of their history, but that’s not me. I’m not the historian, I’m the propaganda department).

Their capacity for rivals to lovers is unMATCHED. One sided hatred, one sided rivalries. They are opposites. They are the same. Uptight vs laidback. Cares sooooooo much vs doesn’t give a shit. It shouldn’t work but it DOES.

They are both insane, but in different ways. Insane4Insane. It’s about balance.

***

Shall we peruse the bookshelf? When I got here we only had one (maybe two) pages on ao3. Now we’re at five and counting (let’s go squad!). List is obviously abridged and also woefully incomplete. (I’m not saying this is y’all’s BEST fic (i mean it might be), I’m saying I’m just a girl. Also don’t ask what the categories mean. They are based vaguely on publishing dates but also vibes.

Early works

1. Parallel Players by crimandclove (@parallelplayers). This TOME was my first intro to glance and let me just say… it was convincing. Compelling. Some would say life changing (I would). This is THE glance bible. Pretty sure all of us have drawn at least a little bit of inspo from it for our own fics (I know I have).

2. cheque please by weegreenbean (@weegreenbean)

I would be remiss in talking about glance without mentioning my beloved. Doing god’s work over in strollonso but also over here in glance nation. Shoutout to this one because I read it last night, and it is textbook Early Glance™️. And because you couldn’t pay me to pick a favourite, there are too many to choose from.

3. Kamikaze by pitconfirm (@pitconfirm). Now with sequel. And both make me want to scream. One of the first fics I read when I got here.

4. The Worst Way to Love Somebody is Quietly by LilShiro (@lil-shiro). Ok I also read this one last night. But it’s soooooooooo them.

Post-modern Reformation (or whatever)

1. off-schedule by Anonymous. Always worth a reread. Always making me insane

2. good luck, babe! by Anonymous. Another fic I read last night. This might just be a list of fics I read last night, now that I think of it.

3. Superposition by girlcowboy3 (@girlcowboy3)

4. I tried so hard to remember where, when, why, how- by abovecalamity (@abovecalamity)

Special Notes

- There is an abundance of girl!george and/or girl!lance fics around. I mean… it is rule 63. Only fair. They are ALL amazing, go check them out

- glance is where I first found out about the soulmate goose trope. That was an… odd but fun period in my life.

- some of you guys have a lot to say (which I love), but you only get ONE mention. HOWEVER I would highly recommend clicking on the little author name button and seeing where that gets you.

Thank you for the ask nonny, hope to see you around (whoever you may be). My inbox is open if you ever wanna chat <3

#glance #glance nation #maple scone #1863 #i am a glance propagandist that’s my job #so here you go nonny <3 #hope this helps :)

[smolwormadventures]

What do you use to make your photos look so good?

Firstly, we want to say we appreciate your kind words, anon!❤️

But truth be told we don’t really use anything!

We just have a camera, position ourselves for good lighting, and hope for the best!

Check the tags⬇️

#thank you for your ask! #but for real #we don’t use anything #we don’t have photoshop #nor do we want it #we want our pictures to be as natural as possible #we might use something to prop ourselves up with but that’s it #we don’t want to enhance them with editing software if any kind #worm #worm ask #sweet anons #anon ask #anonymous #anon #worm on a string #thank you anon #we also ask for assistance sometimes #from our good friends #❤️❤️❤️

[bettyfrommars]

Whole Lotta Love

Eddie x fem!Reader

18+MDNI, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, pet names like baby and sweetheart, both Eddie and reader are over 20.

I received a request for a fic where, no matter how hard he tries, Eddie can't make you cum, and I was happy to do it because it's a much more common situation than how it's represented in most media. I'm not sure this is exactly what they were looking for, but it was a very fun thing to write. This Eddie had me giggling.

a/n: I wasn't sure I would finish this wip after I wrote the first two lines, but then I was in the mood yesterday and smashed it out. It was a very quick write, definitely not my opus, but a true joy, all the same. I hope you like.

wc: 3.1k

Eddie flopped onto his back, huffing out a satisfied breath. “That was so good,” he hummed. 

The fingers of one hand drew a lazy circle on his bare chest as it rose and fell, while his other hand scrambled over to capture yours.  

Shifting his gaze, he caught you staring at the ceiling, unblinking.  “Was that…did you…?”

“Um,” you paused.  It wasn’t that you were afraid to be truthful with him, but the fact that orgasms weren’t flying out of you at the same rate made you feel inadequate, like maybe you were the problem. 

He propped up on his forearm, searching your face, brow creased with concern.  “Did I hurt you or…?”

“No, no,” you rolled over, pulling the sheet up over your hips.  “It felt great.”

At that, he gave an actual sigh of relief.

“But, I didn’t cum.  Or at least, I don’t think I did.”

“You’re not sure?” 

You chewed at your top lip.  “No, I am sure.  I didn’t.”

He traced a few hearts on your shoulder with the tip of his calloused finger.  “Have you ever? With me?”

Your silence spoke volumes, and Eddie’s mind raced to all of the times you’d been intimate in the past few weeks since you’d been together.  He blamed himself for being too eager and sloppy, and shit—he was so crazy about you, it made him dizzy.  He couldn’t believe you let him touch you, let alone cum inside.  

His head snapped up.  “But what about that time I went down on you in the closet at Robin’s party? I swear I felt you—”

“I was close that time,” you admitted, remembering how your legs shook and that heat began to build, in the same way it did when you pleasured yourself.  “But then Gareth was shouting, looking for you and it went away.”

“Fucking Gareth,” he mumbled. “You were close then, okay.  Can I try that again? Now?”

He was already moving down the bed, palming the crook of your knee to slide your leg open.

You put your hand on his head, glancing over at the digital alarm clock.  “Not now, silly, I have to get ready for work.”

You wrapped the sheet around you and got to your feet, leaving Eddie to stare into space, alone with his tortured thoughts.  “Come over tonight?” He yelled while you were in the bathroom. “Wayne leaves for work at 6, we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

“I’ll come over,” you said with your mouth around a toothbrush.  You spat into the sink and then, “But I might be too tired for…other stuff,” your words were met with nothing but silence from the next room.  “We can watch a movie or something?”

Eddie appeared sullen in the doorway next to you in his checkered blue and white boxers. “Do you not want to have sex with me anymore?”

“No, baby I do!” You assured him, eyebrows high on your forehead.  You cupped some water into your mouth and spat it out while he ran his knuckle down your arm. “I really really want to, I just don’t want us to force this.  It’s okay if I don’t have an orgasm every single time.”

“Yeah but it’s not okay with me,” he muttered. 

You turned and planted kisses down his throat, dotting smooches along his collarbone, and then the final peck was on his pouty mouth. You rubbed the tip of your nose against his, “I’ll see you tonight.  I love you.”

—------

You parked on the other side of Eddie's van at the trailer that night and assessed the windows curiously.  At a glance, it looked like the living room had caught fire from the amount of candles that were lit. The song Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin poured out into the soft yellow light of the porch, and you knocked.  

A few raps of your knuckles were met with a loud curse and something like a metal pot crashed to the floor in the kitchen.  No one came to the door, so you entered with caution, and your senses were greeted with the smell of something burning in the oven.

Eddie was by the sink and he spun around with a startled look, wiping his hands down his jeans. He wore a Slayer shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and his feet were bare, letting you see the black toe nail polish you’d delicately painted on a few days earlier.  

“What’s with all this?” You blinked a few times, marveling at how tidy it was.  But also, there were at least 15 mismatched candles ablaze on the side table, the top of the tv, and the counter. 

He wiped his mouth and went over to greet you.   “I just wanted to set the mood,” he grinned, grabbing onto your hips to pull you close. “I read somewhere that the atmosphere can help with, you know.”

“You read somewhere?”

“Just one of those magazines at the grocery checkout.”

“I missed you,” he smiled against your mouth as you said it.  His warm skin smelled spicy and sweet, like he’d recently showered and put on cologne. The yearning you felt for him was all-consuming.  A few hours apart weighed on you like an eternity.  You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, and already your loins were giving you the nod like, “yep, we need to have him inside of us.”  You absolutely craved him on a sexual level, so why was it so hard to find your climax?  It seemed to come easy for everyone else in the world: everybody at the party was cumming but you.  

Eddie was nervous.  He hadn’t felt that out of his mind since the day he confessed he had feelings for you, but if you didn’t feel the same that would be cool, because he didn’t want to fuck up the friendship: you were too precious to him.  Your presence in his life made him feel sane and loved and seen in a way he’d rarely experienced in his life, if ever.  A miracle happened that day, and you’d flown into his arms, asking him what took him so long.

But what kind of boyfriend would he be if he couldn’t please you? In every way?

You watched a sitcom while you ate dinner on TV trays, and when you came back from using the restroom, he had everything put away, dishes thrown in the sink, and he was sitting very propper at the end of the couch, watching you expectantly.  

“Are you, um,” he cleared his throat.  “How are you feeling?”

This was weird, he thought. He was making it weird.  He needed to loosen up and not be so hyper focused on his mission.  Maybe you were tired, maybe you needed to let your spaghetti and burnt french bread settle.  

You straddled his lap, brushing hair away so that you could kiss his forehead. 

“I think I’m ready to try again,” you whispered, and then you ducked down to nibble his earlobe.  “Unless you’d rather stay here and—”

Before you could finish the thought, he was up and the two of you were moving out of the room and down the hall, kissing and fumbling with clothes as you went.  

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he nipped your jaw and side of your neck, banging the bedroom door open with the side of his fist. “I hate being away from you.”

There were a few candles around the bed too; on his nightstand, and a red one dripped wax from the window sill down the wall.  

You stopped abruptly, staring at the bed.  “Are those…rose petals?” 

“Tulips, actually,” he rushed to the scene and swiped the soft pink curls away with his arm. “That was stupid, I just thought it would be—”

You caught his mouth with yours, tongues lashing at each other in such an erotic way that a small moan escaped him. 

He wondered if that night would be the night he came in his jeans.

He wasn’t going to let himself cum before you, that was the plan.  He’d jerked off shortly before you’d arrived, but that didn’t mean shit because he was absolutely ready again.  

Suck it up, Munson.

All was off but for your underwear and while Eddie licked greedily at one of your nipples, you reached down to undo his button fly.  “Release the beast,” you cooed.  

He caught your wrist.  “Not just yet, I can’t, I mean, I want this to be about you.”

“I need an even playing field if I’m going to be relaxed enough to…you know.”

He couldn’t get his pants off fast enough at the urging of your hand that was quick to breach the waistband of his boxers to stroke him. He was rock hard and the tip was already weeping, needy for you.  

“Is this all for me?” You ran your thumb in circles over the tip.

Eddie tensed and huffed out a breath that fanned the hair away from his face.  “Fuck, baby, every inch.”

If he wasn’t sharp, he’d cum right there on the spot.

You bounced when your body hit the bed, and Eddie dropped to his knees between your legs.  The visible wetness on your panties were taking a toll on his already fragile state.  He wasn’t patient enough to take them off of you, he just put his mouth right on the material, nuzzling at your pussy through the fabric in a way that pulled a few sharp gasps out of you.  

“I missed her so much,” he pulled back the final barrier with one finger, licking a few times on your swollen lips, and then cursed.  “You’re so wet already.”

“Well, that’s what you do to me,” you propped up on your elbows to look down at him, sucking in your bottom lip at the sensation of his breath on you.

He slid your underwear off the rest of the way, trying to recall what he’d read in that Playboy article he read a while back? Something about writing out the alphabet, and the woman you are with won’t make it to “x” without cumming.

“How does this feel?” His tongue rolled along your folds in a way that made you wonder what he was doing.  He lost track of the letters at around “M”, hips bucking into the side of the bed, cock pulsing so hard, he had to reach down and take some of the pressure off.  

“G-good,” you gasped.  “Just like that but then, up a bit higher.”

You weren’t exactly an expert when it came to your own pleasure, either, you only knew what felt good when you touched yourself.  If Eddie made you cum, it would be the first time you ever experienced that with another person.  You wondered if you should tell him that.  

He followed your instructions, swallowing while he consumed you, until he found the tiny pearl treasure at the top and your grip tightened on him.

“Hmm I think I found it. Hey there pretty baby,” he murmured into your cunt rolling his tongue around the spot. 

“Yesyesyes, right thereeeee Eddieeee.”

The pressure and the speed was perfect and your hand went to his head for encouragement, but then he slowed down and moved locations, licking up the arousal that dripped down  your slit.

“Baby? Could you go back to that thing you were doing a second ago?”

He compiled without a word, trying to find the same pacing again, but the moment was gone. 

“Eddie—” you spread your legs wider as an invitation. “I really need you inside of me now.”

Well, he wanted that more than anything.  But one pump and it would be all over for his dignity.  His eyes were rolling back, seeing cartoon stars just thinking about it.  

Truth? He wasn’t going to make it.  

You noticed his hesitation.  “We can keep trying…after.  But I need to feel you.  It’s lonely up here.”

“You’re so beautiful it hurts,” he crawled up onto the bed, kissing along your stomach, up between your breasts as he went, and then nuzzled at your neck.  “My dick can wait until—”

But he choked on his last words when you took hold of him and rubbed the tip of his length along your wetness.

“Sssshittt,” his whole body trembled. 

Sliding himself in, becoming one with you, made him emotional in a way he’d be embarrassed to share with anyone else. 

“I love you so much,” your voice came out as a cry when he sank halfway in, locking eyes with you.  The stretch made you squeeze around him, eliciting a whimper from so far back in his throat that he wondered if it came from somewhere else, some far off place. 

Once he started to move, he thought about that sweet little pearl and lifted up enough to put his thumb there and move it around.  Your head went back and  you exposed your throat to him.

Eddie grimaced at how close he was, fuck that—he had to slow down.  The way he was touching you, it was making you stiffen like you had when he was on his knees, and he was taking note of everything.

But then you started telling him how bad you needed him to cum, to fill you up, to make you his.  He tried to hold out but then his eyes locked onto yours when you told him you loved him again and he couldn’t stop the wave once it started, no matter how hard he clenched his jaw and his buttcheeks.

One long babble came out of him as his thrusts got sloppy.  “Oh fuck I love you so much I’m cumming so hard, I’m…I’m…holy shit I love you.”

He didn’t ask if you had come that time, because he knew better.

After he caught his breath, he pulled you with him, twisting onto his side, slipping two fingers where his cock had been.  “What if I push all of this cum back inside so it will stay there? Hmm?”

You moaned against his mouth, grabbing a fistful of his hair.  “That feels good, keep doing that.”

“You like that?” He asked, just to be certain.

You nodded, and then, your hand slotted down between your bodies and his arousal spiked when he realized you were touching yourself.  

He curled his fingers to feel that soft, spongy spot, asking how fast you wanted it.

You couldn’t speak, your concentration was intense, eyes screwed shut. 

Oh sure, he was getting hard again.  The feel of his warm spend in your tight hole was doing nothing for his resolve.  

You clenched around him, and then he was whispering, “let me try again,” as he kept his digits buried and made his way down between your thighs.

His mouth had no trouble finding the treasure that time; it practically peeked up at him, begging for a resolution.  He relaxed his shoulders, breathed in the musk of your arousal, and took you into his mouth with a vibrating groan.

“Right there!” You hadn’t meant to scream it, but it was an actual eureka moment.  “Oh fuck Eddie, don’t stop…keep doing…keep doing that.”

He hadn’t moved his fingers in a while, but when he tried to incorporate that into the mix, you stopped him.  “Keep them still,” you held his head, locking him in place—not that there was anywhere else he wanted to be.  “Don’t move your hand just…Ahh yes yes…”

Your jaw went slack in a silent scream, but then his pace quickened, and before you knew what was happening, the blinding white wave crashed through you, rolling through your limbs like satin electricity, making you whine an extended, “cummingcummingcumming,” while you clung to his hair so you wouldn’t fall off the earth. 

Eddie was astonished to learn that could feel it happening.  The juicy walls around his fingers spasmed, fluttering like tight ripples, and he drove his tongue in eager circles, wondering if he could make you cum twice in one go.  Was that even possible? His heart all but flew out of his chest, it was beating so fast, and he moaned long and hard.

But after a bit, you were trying to push his mouth away.  “Wait wait, now it’s sensitive,” but he was so determined, he didn’t pull off until you physically lifted his head.  

He stared up at you, licking his wet, swollen lips.  

You were breathless, letting the final bits of glitter swim through your veins.  “That was—”

He kissed your cunt one two three times.  “That was what?”

He was grinning now, feeling like he’d just won the lottery, or at least a new car. The sense of satisfaction was officially unmatched.

He made his way up the bed to hold you, but you surprised him by taking his fingers into your mouth to suck them clean, dragging teeth along his flesh.  

“I’ve never cum that way with anyone else before,” you said in a whisper, but when he finally registered the weight of the words, his eyes widened.

“My sweetheart,” he pulled you flush against him, giddy, holding your face to brush his lips over yours. “I’m really your first?”

You gave his shoulder a teasing love bite. “And my last.”

“Oh nowww you’re in trouble,” he rolled on top of you, interlacing his fingers with yours to brace your hands above your head, and then he went to work munching at the side of your throat, growling as he did so.  

You screamed and giggled, realizing he was hard again as it nudged at your hip. “I see you’re ready for battle again.”

“I was born ready, baby,” he straightened to see your face. “You want to try a new position? I was reading this—”

The front door to the trailer burst open.

“What the hell? Edward? You tryin’ to burn the place down?”

It was Wayne.

Shit shit shit shit it was Wayne!

Home hours early from work, for whatever reason.

The door to the bedroom was wide open and his heavy footfalls were rapidly approaching from the hall.

Eddie threw the sheet up over you, and a few tulip petals fluttered to your face.  “I’ll be right there!” He shouted, trying to jump into his jeans. He missed a leg hole and stumbled back onto the mattress, making you snort out a laugh. 

He got to the door just in time to greet his Uncle, blocking any view of the room, buttoning his pants as he stood there.  

You could hear Wayne’s voice change. “Is, ah, is your girlfriend here? Sorry, I didn’t see her car.”

“No that’s cool, we were just—” and then he maneuvered him out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

You lifted up to listen to their murmuring voices, and then Wayne asked, “why is there wax all over the carpet? Blow these fuckers out before the curtains catch fire.”

You had to bury your face in the pillow to muffle your laughter.  

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #Stranger Things fanfic #smut

[buddiebeginz]

I keep seeing posts about how us Buddie fans are just being delusional. How we need to stop reading so much into what’s being said during interviews and oh also how it’s offensive to the current ship.

First of all let’s be clear here Buck is NOT in a relationship with Tommy. I feel like this is something you Buck/Tommy shippers are failing to grasp because I constantly see posts about how Buck shouldn’t cheat on Tommy. They have kissed once and been on 2ish dates they are not a couple yet. Being exclusive requires a conversation or at least some acknowledgment by the characters and we haven’t had that yet. They still barely know each other.

Second we have always theorized about Buddie when the characters were with other love interests. We did when Buck was with Taylor. We did when Eddie was with Ana. Is it somehow different now because Tommy is a guy? Is it different now because Buck and Tommy aren't straight? Or is it just because Buck is dating the guy you want him to be with now? I don't know there's just something very strange about how some of you are responding to Buddie/Buddie shippers with all of this.

What's even crazier to me is that so many of you who are all about Buck/Tommy now used to be Buddie shippers or still say you'll be happy if Buddie happens down the line. Yet you're still attacking Buddie and our meta and speculation because it threatens the current ship you want at the moment.

No one is saying that every one of our theories and speculation is 100% correct but we have always speculated on the show and the interviews this isn't something new people are doing. I feel like the response some you have is that we're somehow seeing/hearing only what we want to and or twisting the words of the actors/etc to fit some kind narrative we have about Buddie.

It's not like we're seeing interviews where Oliver, Lou, Tim, etc are saying Buck and Tommy are going to be together 4eva and then immediately twisting that to mean oh they must be lying Buddie is so obviously happening tomorrow. We're inferring what we think might happen based on spoilers and what the actors (and Tim) have said combined with what we hope might happen. We know not everything we think will happen will. We had a ton of theories on 7x04 and 7x05 (many of which turned out to not be true) and despite what some of you think we didn't all collectively lose our shit because they didn't come true.

You can dislike Buddie and us all you want and can disagree with us or our theories all you want but these posts talking about how we're just seeing what we want and setting ourselves up for disappointment come across as hypocritical (considering most of you used to be Buddie shippers) and patronizing. We don't need or want you to save us from our fandom experience. If we're disappointed by the storyline that's our business but right now we're having fun with where things in the show are and are going.

---

I also really don't like how some of you are trashing Buddie to prop up Buck/Tommy. Basically saying that because Buck and Eddie's feelings haven't been verbally confirmed on screen (like in an I'm in love with you kind of way) that we're making it into something it's not and it's not fair to Buck/Tommy because they are canon.

Buddie isn't in a romantic relationship at the moment but they have loved and supported one another and always been been more than friends since basically the beginning. Even Oliver just confirmed that Buck was attracted to Eddie from the first scene. And no attraction alone doesn't equal love but if you can look at the six seasons of history shared by these two characters and only see two bros being the bestest friends you really need to take some media literacy.

I feel like some of you don't understand that not every part of a fictional story is spelled out super literally nor should it be. We know how deep Buck and Eddie's love goes because we can infer that based on their scenes. On all the ways they are there for one another, on how they treat each other, on how their relationship differs from the other friendships on the show. On all the things they say and don't say to one another. A big reason we want to see them in a canon romantic relationship is because of how clear the show has already made it that these two men love each other.

As for Tommy even though I'm not a multishipper I get Tommy's significance in the storyline. I'm also more thankful than I can put into words that Oliver and the show have decided to do Buck's bi awakening storyline epecially considering I'm bi myself. Buck being bi and his journey is incredibly important all on it's own but Buddie being canon is equally as important not because we need to see these guys together but because of what they represent. We have never had a slow burn same sex love story like this and the way it would change media forever if Buddie were to be canon cannot be understated.

#buddie #911!

[iluv4my]

How to Protect Yourself from Toxic Individuals Who Gaslight You and Use Emotional Tactics

Today i want to talk about something that I've been thinking about a lot lately like understanding when someone is trying to control our emotions and how we can set boundaries to protect ourselves and we all face this in different ways like with friends, partners, or even people we meet online

I often face such people and today i will share whatever i have learned its not like im very professional but im sharing here what I have read and learned

Emotional manipulation is when someone tries to control or influence you using your emotions They might make you feel guilty, doubt yourself, or question your own feelings

So here are some examples like how emotional manipulation can look -

1. The Guilt tripping

This is when someone tries to make you feel bad for not doing what they want by saying things like

- If you really cared about me you would do what i want

- I don't want to stay with temporary people stop caring about me or just let me be like this

2. Gaslighting

This is when someone tries to make you doubt your own thoughts and memories by saying things like

- You're just imagining things i never said that

- Maybe you should just leave me i know you'll just find someone else as soon as you have the chance anyway

3. Playing the Victim

This is when someone tries to make you feel sorry for them even though they're the one causing the problem so they might say things like

I can't believe you're upset with me i'm the one who's been hurt

Okay fine focus on your life don't care about me just leave me alone don't give me this kind of advice give it to someone else

4. Shifting Blame

This is when someone tries to make you feel like the problem is your fault instead of theirs they might say things like

It's not my fault you're upset you're just too sensitive

You're just wasting time with me i'm just your texting partner

Emotional manipulators often feel insecure or powerless by controlling others they feel a sense of power and prop up their own self esteem they might have learned these tactics from their own upbringing too

Their Personality Traits

1. Narcissism

Emotional manipulators often act like they're better than others and always want people to praise them and they need a lot of attention and don't care much about how others feel they think they're more important than everyone else and often complain too much .

2. Insecurity

Even though they may seem confident, emotional manipulators actually feel unsure about themselves. Deep down they might have had tough experiences in the past that make them feel bad about themselves so they try to control others to feel better about themselves.

3. Need for Control

Emotional manipulators always want things to go their way. They try to control what others do and say to feel powerful and important and they use tricks like making others feel guilty or pretending to be the victim to control how people act around them.

Understanding these traits helps us recognize when someone might be trying to manipulate us and It's important to stand up for ourselves and not let them control u

Reasons for Manipulation

What Makes Them Pull the Strings?

There are several reasons why people turn to manipulation here are some of the big ones:

Power and Control:

Many manipulators feel a deep seated need for power and control in their lives they might feel insecure or powerless on their own so manipulating others gives them a sense of superiority and helps them feel better about themselves.

Self Gain:

It's all about "me" for some manipulators they might use emotional tactics to get what they want whether it's money, favors, or simply getting their way in an argument

Fear of Abandonment:

Some manipulators are terrified of being alone they might use emotional blackmail or guilt trips to keep people close even in unhealthy relationships

Low Self Esteem:

Despite their controlling ways some manipulators actually have very low self esteem they might manipulate others to get the validation and approval they crave

Learned Behavior:

Sometimes manipulation is a learned behavior they might have grown up in a household where manipulation was the norm and they adopted it as a way to cope with the world.

How To Protect Yourself From these Manipulator

Set Boundaries

Make it clear what you're okay with and what you're not stick to your limits and don't let manipulators push you around

Trust Your Instincts

If something doesn't feel right trust your gut feeling take steps to keep yourself safe from further manipulation.

Don't engage in arguments

They want to get a rise out of you walk away

Focus on yourself

Prioritize your own needs and well being

Responding to Manipulation

Stay Calm

Try not to get upset or angry when dealing with manipulative people stay calm and stand up for yourself firmly

Be Assertive

Clearly say how you feel and what you want without being mean or starting a fight

Limit Interaction

If manipulation keeps happening even after you've tried to stop it think about spending less time with that person to protect your mental health

End Note :

These people think that by behaving like this they can protect themselves they always want attention and love from everyone around them but they don't notice or thank others for what they do It's better to let them go without worrying too much about them if you think you can change them you're wrong they'll just resist your efforts and keep complaining instead of appreciating what others do they often find fault in small things its better to focus on yourself and not let their behavior bother you

#self help #self discovery #self development #self reflection #self improvement #self love #self care #self healing #healing #level up journey #spilled thoughts #dark academic aesthetic #light academia #dark aesthetic #dark acamedia #desi teen #pyschology #literature #dark academia

[under-sedationnn]

mike schmidt x pregnant fem!reader pt.2

summary: a continuation of a day in the life with mike schmidt in which the reader navigates the joys, and hardships, of pregnancy.

"so, what are we thinking, a classic baby blue or something more adventurous? like" a pause, squinting at the screen, "green."

With Abby gone for the day, Mike and I plopped ourselves in the living room for a debrief of the day ahead. I opted for the floor, Mike helping me lower myself to the carpet in front of the TV. I groan as my butt hits the floor less than gracefully, and lay flat on my back as we chat.

"What sounds best to you, y/n?" he starts, stifling a yawn. I feel myself frown slightly in response, feeling guilty about how tired he must be feeling. He catches on.

"Hey hey, baby, I'm okay," another yawn, "I just need another cup of coffee, I think."

"No, Mike, you need to sleep," I say, and turn to lay on my side with my head propped up on my hand. He leans back on the couch and huffs, pulling his hands down his face as he lets out a sigh.

I pick at the carpet with my fingers, and wait for him to respond.

"I know, I know I need to sleep but- damnit, I'm trying to make this work, y/n." Face still hidden, he sits in silence again until I move to sit up. With great difficulty, might I add.

"And you're doing a great job, Mikey, but I really think you could use the rest. We could use the rest, right now." He moves his hands from his face and pulls me in for a hug by my neck. I trace my nails up and down his back through his shirt, and he lets out a small sigh.

He nods his head against my shoulder, and in silence, we move to the bedroom. The bed is still unmade, and we slip back under the covers as if we have never left. Turning to face away from him, Mike buries his front into my back and we melt into one another, the warmth of his chest replacing the chill of vacant sheets.

He places his hand on my stomach, and I feel at home in his embrace. "Mike," I start, "you're gonna be a great dad."

He kisses the back of my neck. "Thank you, baby. You're gonna be a great mom, I know it."

With that, the sound of the TV in the living room drowns out to a lulling hum and the morning light of the window slowly but surely fades to black.

"We're in this together, y/n."

````````````````````````````````````````````

When I wake up from my nap, I haven't moved from my original position, but Mike is gone. The absence of his warmth sends a chill through my body, and I sit up to find the nearest throw blanket.

Walking into the living room, I catch sight of Mike scrolling on my laptop at the table. His forehead is wrinkled in concentration, and when he looks up to find me standing in the doorway, he cracks a smile.

"Good morning," he says, "again."

I chuckle, and he turns his attention back to the screen, scrolling once again.

"Whatcha looking at?" I ask, moving to pour myself a glass of water. I open the dishwasher to find that it hadn't been run the night before, and curse myself silently. I give up for now, and walk back over to the couch. "Mike, please do remind me to run the dishes tonight. But seriously, what's got you all focused in? Looking for a new job listing?"

"I definitely should be, but the night shift pays the bills. Just look at this." He swivels the laptop toward me, and when I see different swatches of paint pulled up, I can't help but smile.

"Good thinking, Mike. Ooooh, I like this purple! It's like a periwinkle."

He leans in to look with me. "Yeah, they have a good selection for not too much money. I'm sure Abby might want a new coat of paint once we get started on a nursery, so we need to prep for that."

"Right," I draw out, "she's probably sick of the shade she's got. Needs something more big girl, you know?"

He only rolls his eyes, grinning slightly. "So, what are we thinking, a classic baby blue or something more adventurous? like" a pause, squinting at the screen, "green."

"Hmmm, green is quite daunting, huh?" I scroll for a few moments, and find a springy peach color. "This would look great with all the sunlight coming in, and we could get everything else in neutrals and use all the hand-me-down furniture my family gave us."

"I'm glad you're feeling inspired," and he looks over the paint color himself, turning to smile wider this time. "This'll be great, let's go pick it up now."

I kiss him, hugging him as well as I can, and waddle to our room to get ready.

After changing our clothes, I find myself on the couch, looking longingly at my sneakers from across the room. Mike walks in, follows my gaze to where my shoes sit, and places my shoes in front of me, chuckling as he goes for his keys.

I sigh, defeated. “Mike, I'm gonna be honest, there's no way I can tie my shoes.”

“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”

i know that this part 2 is late and was way shorter than the first but i did just want to give a little more attention to dad!mike because uh so cute?? anyways

thanks for reading!!

#josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson imagine #mike schimdt smut #mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt

[esther-dot]

Daenerys is capricious and inconsistent in the extreme. She romanticizes the Dothraki but campaigns against Slaver’s Bay, never realizing that Drogo was just as bad as any of these masters and that the Dothraki helped prop up Slaver’s Bay’s markets. She’s for or against slavery depending on which positon benefits her at any given time. She has no set rule of law, and she exacts punishments on a whim. She’s unpredictable. Can you imagine living under someone and not knowing what was or wasn’t against the law, or what might or might not get you tortured or crucified ?

And she has an extraordinary capacity for self-righteous violence. This is tricky, because at face value it makes her violence look somehow better or justified. Someone who crucifies slavers without a trial garners more sympathy than Ramsay Bolton flaying and crucifying people who’ve just surrendered. Notice how Daenerys and the Boltons are the only parties in the books, besides the Meereenese slavers, who use crucifixion as punishment. Daenerys is also thematically linked to the Boltons in one of her thoughts, where she thinks about making peace with men she’d sooner flay. How intentional this parallel between Dany and the Boltons is, I can’t say, but it’s definitely there but people let this stuff slide because, right now, at this time, the targets of Daenerys’s self-righteous violence are targets that we ourselves also want to see punished. But remember that Daenerys sees pretty much anyone who would stand against her conquest of Westeros as an enemy equally worthy of these extreme acts of violence. It’s one thing for Daenerys to aim her anger at slavers, but it might be another thing entirely for her to aim it at, say, Tommen, the Starks or the Martells. It actually wouldn’t surprise me if GRRM is making a statement here about violence and how bias and perspective play a role in when violence is "acceptable" and when it isn’t. I also think it’s naive for anyone to expect Daenerys punishments to somehow get more lenient when she gets to Westeros; at some point, she will almost certainly target someone who, from readers perspectives, doesn’t deserve it.

You explained this so well, anon, thank you!

I believe that what he is doing with Dany is trying to show how choosing violence says something about you, but also changes you. The decision to harden yourself to suffering and violence (which Dany thinks she must do because she thinks she must take Westeros) are a problem because if you succeed, why would you not choose those means more often? Martin believes you are meant to see the cost of taking life, to feel it, so you do not do it easily, thoughtlessly.

The Starks have this belief that's introduced in Bran I for a reason,

 ...we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die. (AGOT, Bran I)

Careful, measured justice matters, and Dany struggles to constrain herself to that. So yes, right now, we aren't as alarmed as we should be because the people who die seem guilty enough to most fans so they let it slide, but she will eventually kill someone who isn't, many someones.

I believe the Bolton / Dany parallel is intentional, there are examples from the book as well as the show (mixture of both, show dialogue, similar shots from the show). There are book only posts, but for some reason I'm not turning them up at the moment.

#dot chat #anti daenerys

[xannador]

Please don't give up. I'm sure this is just a bad trend that will go away like NFTs.

I'm afraid that's not the case.

NFT's were intrinsically worthless. Their value was derived from there always being a bigger idiot to buy them from you. Once they ran out of idiots, the pyramid scheme collapsed. AI actually has a variety of different applications that can create value. Not all of them are bad. It can and will be used in the medical industry to find and recognize diseases and other afflictions much faster. It has its uses in software for programmers to write their code more quickly and with fewer mistakes. And so much more, no point in listing them all off.

It is just a pattern recognition software. But it is extremely powerful. And it is going to reshape almost every single industry, not just the media. It will do some good. And it will also cause an incredible amount of damage.

So no, this shit is never gonna go away. Not unless a solar flare fries all our technology in a single cataclysmic event. But until that happy day, we're going to have to deal with it and protect ourselves from it.

I think the people who create art or write for no reason other than the joy of it have nothing to worry about. Photography didn't stop people from painting either. But if you want to make a living from art/writing/animation or want to grow an audience... yeah you're probably fucked. You'll be forced to learn to use it or be left behind.

For what it's worth, the one thing technology has never been able to replace, and never will, is humanity itself. You cannot form a fulfilling social connection with a robot. AI can't replace communities. And tech bro aren't interested in infiltrating tiny fringe niches and fandoms with their piece of shit bots.

AI isn't able to entirely replace us artists and writers just yet. I have played around with AI to see if I could use it in any shape or form. But the moment you ask it to do something specific and be consistent in any way, it just completely falls apart. It can't generate consistent character designs or settings or props. It doesn't understand camera angles or perspective at all. You can't make edits or small/specific changes either. Cause it doesn't fucking know what it's doing or making.

This might change. The technology is getting better and better everyday. I think it is inevitable before AI can generate images of characters/environments in any style, from any angle, with any expression, etc. And we'll be fully redundant. It might take a month. Maybe a year, maybe longer. But it's coming.

Just not today. So I say enjoy whatever time we have left.

#anti ai

[deerabigailhobbs]

This might have been asked before but why is Abigail Hobbs your all time favorite character?

Hello, thank you for the question! I've been asked this before in DMs but never in inbox before :)

I won't bore you with the details, but last year was extremely rough for me, both physically and mentally, and I discovered Hannibal around July time. Watching the first episode, seeing Abigail on screen, what happened to her, her in the hospital, I was immediately captivated by her character. Even though I had seen spoilers many years ago about her fate, I had to keep watching to see how it would unravel.

Now, like many people on this site, Hannibal hasn't been my only obsession with a piece of media, however I've never had a character fill me with such joy and overwhelming creativity before. I was drawing her, editing her, sending paragraphs upon paragraphs about her to my friend (shout out to them) because I could not stop talking about her, which is something I still do. With going through such a hard time in my life, here was a character who was also suffering, who was also scared and confused, and I think that's possibly why I felt so connected to her when she first appeared on screen, thrust into something she wanted no part of and couldn't control.

As for analysis of the character herself, I just think she's so interesting! Sometimes she feels like less of a character and more of a prop, motivation for the other characters to use. We never really see her on her own, never truly know what she's thinking, we can only speculate and try and put the pieces together ourselves, trying desperately to not view her in the eyes of Hannibal or Will. This layer of mystery makes her so compelling to watch. Honestly, she can be very unpredictable at times, killing Nick, digging up his body, manipulating the conversation at one point and being completely helpless the next, I feel like you never really know what's going to happen when she's on screen.

And of course there's her death, and how beautifully tragic it is. This woman, who wanted to be loved, to be understood, left to bleed out once more by someone who was supposed to protect her. I cannot imagine how she must have felt in those final moments, Hannibal's bloody hand stretched out to her, knife gleaming in the other one. She knew what was going to happen, what was about to be recreated, and she embraces it. She had no say before but she does now. And I think even in those last few minutes of her life, she wanted to live, even as the knife scrapped against her throat a second time, she plead for survival, but the only way she could be safe is via death. If she left with Hannibal and Will she'd be surrounded by twice her father once more, if she stayed she would have been turned in to the police, if she ran as far as she could, she would never be able to escape the guilt that her life brought her.

And so she decides to die by her own choice, to "push the button." And she's scared, unsure of her decision as she's grasping at her bleeding neck and gasping for air. I think she was unsure if she made the right call because every decision in her life has been done for her. It's a foreign feeling to a character that never had a taste of agency and individuality before.

Abigail is so immensly intriguing, and I love to pick her actions and motives apart, adding my own interpretations to a character that's all about peeling off their layers and trying to find their true self underneath.

#thank you for this ask I really appreciate it! #its nice to get my thoughts about Abigail out there in one post #i apologise for the length though i didn't expect to write this much it just sort of happened #abigail hobbs #hannibal #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #hannibal analysis #abigail hobbs analysis #hannibal meta

[the-trans-ginger]

"apologise"

whoops I might have gotten myself a new hyperfixation, which is writing this series. this is a direct sequel of this fic. I kinda wanted to include some actual smut in this but then I decided it was better to split it up into two parts (first this, then smut). because I already started with the smut part it probably won't be long until I post that.

content: no smut but there is a dom/sub dynamic. dom reader, switch rhea, sub bayley (in a less romantic/sexual way though). rhea and reader kiss.

rhea gets comforted by reader when her knee is being examined. later, they run into bayley, who tries to tease rhea about what happened in the ring. rhea won't have this and puts bayley in her place.

when a physical therapist walked in to examine rheas knee, she was already laying down, just as I had told her to. I was standing right next to her, still a bit thrown off by rhea calling me sir without me forcing her to. I gave her shoulder a soft squeeze to let her know I'd be there for her if she needed anything.

the therapist started looking at rheas knee, bending it a few times. then he started pressing it, right in the most painful spots. rhea had put her dominant face back on, trying her best not to wince too much even though she clearly was in pain.

in an attempt to comfort her, I held her hand, making small circles with my thumb. this might not have been my best decision: rhea squeezed it. hard. very hard.

in an attempt to distract rhea from the pain a bit (so she would stop squeezing my hand so hard), I started running my hands through her hair until the PT was done. he said there were no ripped tendons as far as he could see, the knee would just hurt for a little while.

he walked away and gave us the room to ourselves again. rhea propped her elbows under her and sat up at the edge of the bed. I stopped her from standing up by moving to the same spot I was in before the PT showed up, standing between rheas legs, staring deeply into her eyes.

I picked up where we left off, pulling rhea towards me into a passionate kiss. I slipped in my tongue, making her let out a small moan. I hummed approvingly in response before deepening the kiss, tangling my fingers in her hair.

the kiss ended with the both of us running out of breath, still keeping the eye contact while panting. I was the first to be able to speak again.

"damn, I should have joined the judgement day a month ago. man, that kiss was something different, you're fucking great"

rhea blushed. "I- you- I'm just thankful you didn't just tease me like you've been doing all day."

her gaze hardened, her dominant side came back up. "but you'd better take me to your hotel room after we're done, I didn't go through all this teasing to not get fucked tonight."

I raised my eyebrows and hooked my finger through the collar she was wearing as part of her gear. "I know you're new to all this but you should realise that you're not in a place to make demands. you can be a little bratty, I like that, but be aware of the consequences. I was going to take you to my room tonight, now I'm not so sure if I should anymore" I toyed with her.

rhea looked away and swallowed slowly, realising she had overstepped. "I'm sorry sir" she said softly.

I smirked. "good. now let's get you cleaned up, your lipstick is all smeared and we have an interview in twenty minutes."

--- --- --- --- ---

we slowly made our way to the place where byron saxton would be waiting for us, when bayley suddenly appeared from behind a corner. when she saw us, she grinned, clearly wanting to tease rhea with what had happened in the ring tonight.

rhea and I looked at eachother and thought the same thing: bayley was about to learn a lesson. nobody was going to mock rhea and walk away with it. I decided to let rhea take the lead this time, I was just going to stand at her side and see what would happen.

Bayley started speaking. "hey rhea! didn't expect to see you here tonight after being humiliated like that. not so dominant now, huh? I bet-" she was interrupted by rhea, who put a firm hand right around her throat. "are you sure it's a good idea to talk to me like that? I'm giving you one chance to apologise and fuck off, or you'll regret what you just said." she lightly squeezed bayleys throat to make sure her message was clear.

bayley tried to hide the panic she was feeling, but obviously didn't do a great job at it. she looked at me, as if I was going to help her out of this. I laughed. "do you really think I'm going to just let you go? you're not very clever, are you? I'm part of the judgement day now, there's no way you're getting out of here without some punishment. nobody speaks to rhea in that tone and gets away with it."

bayley swallowed, only now realising the hole she had dug for herself. I put my hand on rheas shoulder. "maybe you should make her kneel for you, let her know her place. teach her a lesson."

rhea smirked and gave bayley a very, very threatening look, her hand still wrapped around her throat. "you heard it. your time to apologise is over, you'll need to put in some more effort now. kneel for me."

bayley looked at the both of us with a face full of fear and anger. rhea had let go of her throat, which meant that bayley could run away. if she dared to, that is. getting on her knees for rhea was a thing she would hate to do, but she realised that it was much, much better than being beat up by the two of us. she got on her kneels reluctantly, looking rhea in the eyes the whole time. rhea grabbed bayleys chin with force.

"apologise."

bayley shivered at rheas intensity and quickly gave up her defiant look. "I- I'm sorry rhea, I won't do it again, probably. just please let me go, I've got places to be." rhea looked pleased at the apology; she let go of bayleys chin. bayley gave her a look of relief, unaware of what was coming: rhea gave her a big slap to the face, knocking her to the ground.

"that's a warning for what will happen the next time you try to talk me down. we're done here."

as we walked away, I proudly wrapped my arm around her. "man, we're gonna be such a great tag team"

rhea smiled. "it's going to be amazing. now prepare for your proper induction to the judgement day: we're going to terrorise byron saxton when he asks another round of stupid questions"

#saturn speaks #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley #bayley #bayley x reader #wwe x reader #bayley x rhea ripley #wwe

[avoidantrecovery]

i'm trying to put my new "thoughts" and "findings" about AvPD into words and coherent sentences and i find it nearly impossible. i have a plan, i want to try something new, but i don't know how to explain it all. maybe i can try a list:

disclaimer: this is just a list with things i want to do for myself not medical advice or some tried and tested key on how to solve avpd or anything like that 😭

i noticed that many who suffer with AvPD have an extremely negative view of themselves (their "self" if you will) including me of course

our "self" was wounded through trauma, abuse, neglect, being ostracized or abandoned etc...

the fear, inhibition, anxiety, feeling unappealing, etc... we struggle with is a result of having a self that is wounded, not the personality in of itself

moving through this world with a "self" that is not strong enough to support us causes us to appear that way

we internalized our abusers view of ourselves, leading to the "wounded self" and extremely negative view of self

and that becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy since a wounded self leads to avoidance, retreat and isolation

it's just natural to want to protect yourself and feel safe if you feel your "self" is so fragile and makes you easily attackable

but that then leads to more feelings of inadequacy which leads to more avoidance etc...

the relational self atrophies over time and we feel worse as time goes on

i wrote about that here and also here

but still, there is no point in superficially forming connections with people (be they friendships, jobs, relationships, etc...) without taking care of that wounded self first

if the wounded self isn't, i don't want to use the word "healed" here, but let's say filled with more positive view of itself, all that happens is that you take the negative view of self wherever you go

wherever you go, there you are, as they say

it simply leads to self-sabotage, ghosting and feelings of inadequacy etc... just in a new surrounding

or you mask up in order to fit in, which is not tenable over time

especially with relationships you will sooner or later have to reveal your truly vulnerable side, which requires shedding of the mask, which is when people with AvPD usually bail

if anything those are the stories of AvPD that scare me the most, people who through sheer grit and hard work manage to reach their goals and then end up abandoning it all, because nothing has changed and the feelings of adequacy are still there and they can only keep up the facade for so long

people quit jobs they worked hard to get, ghost their friends and dump loving partners to return to the solitude and isolation they think they deserve (due to the negative self view)

so what is to do?

the "self" needs to be strengthened, but how do that?

this is also about mitigating shame

for once i have a bit of a plan: i believe that our sense of self consists in part of our own self-view, but also of the feedback we get from the outside world in regards to said "self"

i wrote about that here

the relational self has to be propped up and filled up with positive feedback we get from the outside world

genuine positive feedback to override the negative views the self holds about itself

this has to be done over and over again until it sticks

one part is of course how i self-talk and think/envision myself.

things like mindfulness, self-care (not through products, but genuine things i do for myself) etc...

the other part is the outside world

i'm still trying to figure out how to do this while also mitigating possible negative feedback i could receive

since there is no controlling what others do or feel

i don't think that is ever the point, in fact it is important to get away from the idea of thinking one can control others through our behaviour

either way, negative feedback does not mean their feedback has to be internalized, no?

and knowing how to handle the negative feedback one might get is crucial, as to not further entrench the negative self view and make things worse

but i think the idea of overriding the old (negative view) neural pathways is crucial

and it can be the smallest of small steps, just as long as something is happening

at least that is my plan for now so turn that negative self view into something more positive, one neural pathway at a time

i want to set some goals for myself for every week

sensible goals to slowly dig myself out of this hole

🥲😮‍💨

#avpd ramblings #avpd recovery #recovery goals #avpd thoughts #healing habits #relational self #the self

[20dimensionsoftangerine]

🌈

Fluff? Believe it or not I actually do have something for this!

This is an after credits scene for Properties of Adaine (which is no where close to actually being done) so watch out for big spoilers below!

"You have to take this seriously."

"Please, Adaine," Aelwyn huffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder in a dismissive way, "When have I ever not been serious?"

"Your usual demener is very light hearted and careless," Ayda, sweet Ayda, spoke up. The three of them were in the Golden Garden washroom. It wasn't as spotless as Adaine would have liked but it was the cleanest place in Leviathan and didn't have the risk of Arthur bursting in at any moment. "I can name a few instances where you took a situation with seriousness but they are not many."

Aelwyn pointed at her, like Ayda had just backed her up. "See? I can be serious!"

"But there have been more times that you are not," Ayda made sure to clarify.

Aelwyn waved her hand at her. "Shush."

Adaine groaned and rubbed at her eyes. "I'm regretting this already..."

"I promise to treat this as an issue of grave importance," Ayda said though she tilted her head in confusion a moment after, "though I will admit I don't fully understand why. You're just asking us to... help you with you makeup, yes?"

Aelwyn snorted. "We're polishing our dear little sister."

"Look," Adaine started, glaring breifly at Aelwyn, "I know neither of you can... really understand. But this is extreamly important to me. It's a sign of trust. I wasn't even permitted to get myself ready for months! Not until Goldenhoard was convinced I could do it properly. It's..." She waved her hands about as she searched for the words. "I want to bond with the both of you. This is how I bond, okay?"

Ayda looked increadibly touched but Aelwyn hummed and crossed her arms. "Why now? You didn't even let me watch your skincare routine when I was in charge of you."

"Because you're a wackjob," Adaine answered plainly, causing Ayda to let out one HA before she remembered herself, "and I was kinda worried you'd ban me from doing it at all."

"Ah," Aelwyn said, nodding slowly, "yes I...might have. Your whole thing was very confusing to me. Still is."

"I, for one, am excited to bond with you my sisters," Ayda said, her wings fluttering a bit behind her, "even if I do not fully understand it I recognize it's important to you, Adaine."

"Thank you." Adaine smiled gratefully as Aelwyn nodded along in agreement. Adaine then propped herself up onto the counter, kicking her legs slightly with nerves as she gestured to the products crowding the rest of the bathroom. "Okay, um, I set everything out so you can get started whenever you want."

Aelwyn and Ayda exchanged a glance. Adaine was impressed. Nonverble communication was still hard for Ayda. Ayda cleared her throat akwardly. "Is that it? You are not going to show us what to do?"

Adaine shrugged, the kicking of her legs picking up just a little. "I already did all the base stuff. You guys are just putting the finishing touches on. And you doing whatever you want is kinda the whole point so..."

Aelwyn smirked teasingly. "What if I drew a big butterfly across your face like they do at carnvials?"

Adaine gave her an unimpressed look. "This is why I didn't trust you earlier."

"Okay, okay." Aelwyn held her hands up placatingly. "Nothing too embarrassing. Got it."

"Well..." Adaine hesitated. "I don't care if it's embarrassing. Just... don't make it a joke."

"We should try to reflect ourselves in the design, yes?" Ayda asked, picking up some eyeliner, "As if we were customizing a satchel or our living areas."

"Right," Adaine agreed with a relieved sigh, nodding to her, "just... try to be honest about it, is all, I guess."

"Hmm fine," Aelwyn griped but Adaine knew her well enough by now to tell it was almost entirely a show, "I'll draw on you but in a serious way or whatever."

"Thank you," Adaine said as sincerely as she could and smiled at Aelwyn sticking her tongue out at her.

Ayda gentle cupped Adaine's chin as Aelwyn began rifling around the makeup supplies. "Please close your eyes, little sister, and hold as still as you can."

Adaine did so and succeeded in not wincing when her eyelids were stroked by the eyeliner pen. She kept her eyes closed for the majority of the process, letting herself fall into the feeling of being tended to. Ayda's rougher hands continued to work on its face, her grip softly guiding Adaine's head every which way. Aelwyn's delicate fingers hovered around it's neck and Adaine had no idea what she was doing down there. But they were all too far into it to backout now. Adaine simply didn't talk or move except where directed and tried not to mess up its sister's work.

#adaine abernant #fantasy high #dimension 20 fanfiction #aelwyn abernant #ayda aguefort

[manonamora-if]

arent u jelly of other authors doing better than you? like more popular and stuff? dont you resent them when ur better stuff dont get as much attention as their stuff?

TLDR: A bit sometimes, and hell no.

🤔

Well... yeah I sometimes get a bit of a pinch when I see some posts get a bunch of attention minutes after it was made public while my own rarely get that much period, or getting dozens of ratings at release when I might get one or two. Who wouldn't? We all want some amount of spotlight for our hard work, we all want to be praised for our accomplishments, we all want to see people tell us how much they enjoyed our stuff. We want to feel seen... And social media sometimes make it hard not to compare ourselves with others. The obvious numbers say it all plainly. It's right there. Getting away from the numbers or the posts appearing on your feed, every reminder than you're not as much as other people... it stings sometimes. Is that human to feel that way?

Do I wish my games would be shared a bit more or get more traction than they currently do? Sure. Even if my mindset when creating stuff lately has been more about me learning a certain program, or a way to code, or give a bit back, or just wanting to so silly word crimes... I can't deny I selfishly, egotistically, still want to show up on everyone's feed, or be mentioned in conversation, or get showered with high ratings. I'm proud of my stuff, and I want people to see what I see in them. Get that dopamine hit.

I know I've steered away in recent months from the more traditional expectations of this community, doing shorter projects with little to no romance, or in formats that is unusual, or just not work on the project that actually pulls the numbers. So that probably affected things. And I've changed the ways I've interacted with the community at large too. I'm not as present here as I used to. I barely share other contents here than before (it's usually sent to the Interact-if queue, which has more peeps than here), even though I made a big deal about it in the past (something something, I'm a hypocrite). I've kinda moved my focus as a player towards shorter content, and jam/comp entries. Hell, I've been putting more effort in organising jams and reviewing games than working on mines. It's not like I should be shocked...

But resenting other authors because they get more attention than me? Fuck that. They don't pick and choose who follow them, who interact with their content, who actively engage with their projects - no one can control what followers/players do. And I'd be rude not to consider they just put more into their projects than I do, whether it's engaging with their following at large in general, or creating special content or rewards for them, or putting more resources than I do (like artwork commission). Or simply they might just be more talented then I am in the eyes of the audience. Or people just don't care that much about what I do. So why should I put the onus on them? It's not their fault I'm doing less well than they are. Honestly, props to them for doing so well.

Yeah... lots of words to say: duh, who wouldn't be jelly and wtf, why should I

#ask box #I'm happy peeps get to be in the spotlight #and I'm already more in the spotlight than other smaller creators #don't try to put us against each other anon #that's not cute #play my games instead

[kaimelia]

rained in

"Should I just assume that my flight is going to be canceled?" Amelia mutters, glancing out the window and pursing her lips.

"It's supposed to storm all day, so," Kai comes up behind her, wrapping their arm around her waist from behind and kissing the side of her head. "I don't think that's unreasonable."

"Mm," she sighs, leaning back into their embrace.

"Come back to bed." Kai pulls at the t-shirt on her body, tugging the loose fabric towards them as they walk backward toward the bed.

"Again?" She smiles, allowing them to pull her into their arms again, their hand finding its place under her chin, tilting her head up to allow them to reach her lips.

"We've got some extra time; might as well make good use of it." They reach down to wrap their arms around her enough to lift her up, both of them laughing as Kai drops her onto the mattress.

"Wait, let me make sure my phone is on so I can hear it if they cancel," she kisses them quickly before rolling out from under their body, rushing over to her phone left by the windowsill. "Oh, they already-"

Amelia's eyes widen as the apartment goes dark, the light of her phone screen the only thing illuminating the space.

"Well, I'll grab some candles?"

---------

"I think it's almost calming," Kai whispers, kissing Amelia's back as she lies on her stomach, her head tilted enough to make out the outline of their body beside her, illuminated by the candles.

"It's so quiet," she sighs, her eyelids fluttering shut as she exhales. "I've always liked the sound of rain."

"Even with the thunder and lightning?"

"I don't mind it. Scout's terrified of the noise, though. Maybe some twisted part of me enjoys it because all he wants to do is hide under the blankets in my arms."

"Rindy hates fireworks. Every year on the fourth of July, I let him get really high off catnip, and I shamelessly eat an entire pint of ice cream."

"Patriotic," she laughs, quietly scooching closer to them and turning onto her side, nuzzling her head under theirs and resting her lips against their neck. "Wait."

"Hm?"

"Power's out," she props herself up on her elbow, reaching for one of the knitted blankets at the end of their bed and wrapping it around her body. "Ice cream." They gasp at her realization and jump out of bed, scrambling around for their pajama shirt and throwing it on.

---------

"We've got one more, come on," Kai pouts, leaning forward and pointing the last pint of ice cream toward Amelia across from them.

"If I eat any more, I'm going to be sick," she groans, gently tossing her spoon onto the coffee table.

"It's gonna melt and go bad."

"Then you eat it," she gestures wildly, her eyes wide as Kai points their spoon at the carton.

"I've already eaten two," they mutter, looking up at her. "We can take a casualty. We did manage to eat four pints of ice cream between us."

"I'm not sure if that's something to be proud of."

"I thought you said it was patriotic," they mock, holding their arms out for her to move onto their lap.

"I was talking about you letting Rindy get high out of his mind, but," she pecks their lips before straddling their legs, wrapping her arms around their neck, and gently massaging the bottom of their head, "we can call it patriotism." Amelia connects her lips with theirs, grinning into the kiss and tugging at their hair.

"Oh-" Kai nearly yelps as the lights flash on around them, and Amelia groans. "Power's back."

"So much for giving ourselves stomach aches eating all of that ice cream." She laughs as they breathe heavily. "You okay? Your heart is racing."

"I did not expect the lights to be so bright," they mutter, placing a hand over their heart. "Why do I feel like we just got caught?"

"Probably because we just ate an unhealthy amount of ice cream." She hops off of their lap and stands. "Wanna make PB&Js?"

---------

"Is it wrong that I'm hoping for it to start thundering again?" Kai softly admits as they park in the dim lot, the quiet hum of the car fizzling away as they pull the keys from the ignition.

"The only reason I'm not is because I know Scout's giving Link a hard time with this storm, so," she breathes out a laugh and rolls her head to the side to face them. "We got an extra day. And I'll be there to pick you up in Seattle in two weeks."

"I know," they sigh.

"Are you walking in with me, or are we saying goodbye here?"

"I'll walk you in, did you honestly think I'd ditch you in a parking garage, Shepherd?" They open their door, rounding the car and grabbing her suitcase from the trunk as she approaches them. Kai smiles sadly as she takes their hand. "Text me when you're boarding, yeah? And when you land?"

"And when I get home." She grins and leans her head against their shoulder.

They walk her up to the security line, squeezing her hand tightly as they pass through crowds of people. "Alright," they mutter, pursing their lips tightly. Amelia stands up on her tiptoes and wraps her arms around their neck, tucking her face into their skin and exhaling heavily. Their arms pull her tightly against them. "You're not allowed to get emotional because then I'll spend my entire drive home crying," they chuckle, their lips pressed to her hair. She pulls back and wipes her hand under her eyes.

"I won't." She holds her hands up defensively before grabbing the collar of their shirt and tugging them down until their lips collide with hers. "Thank you for the stomach ache and the quiet." Kai grins.

"I'll see you soon." Their arms don't loosen around her waist after their words. Amelia pulls them into another hug.

"You're supposed to let go." A gentle kiss to their skin accompanies her words.

"I need a long enough hug to get me through this next week."

---------

"Hey, how far are you from the airport?" Kai frowns, punching their finger at the map on their display.

"Twenty minutes; why?"

"You got your wish. It's supposed to start thundering again, so they canceled my flight." They grin and pull off the highway.

"I'll be there as fast as my car will get me there."

#amelia shepherd #kai bartley #kaimelia #kaimelia fanfic #kaimelia fanfiction #greys anatomy #grey's anatomy #greys abc #greys fanfic #my fics

[warningsine]

The land of the short story is a brutal land, a land very similar, in its strictness, to the land of the joke.” George Saunders was writing about the unforgiving nature of the short form, but he might as well have been referring to the worlds in which his characters are trapped. Why is such a nice man so mean to the nice people he invents?

In interviews, Saunders comes across as a benignly thoughtful regular guy, a practising Buddhist who constantly tries for kindness. Some part of his writing day, however, is spent imagining complex and original ways to punish the people he has created. They are trapped by their own foolishness, or by the dreams of hyper-capitalism. They are also sometimes locked up underground, or suspended in intriguing configurations. “Suspended” here does not just mean “existing between one state and another” – though they are also that. It means hung up and left dangling, like abandoned puppets.

The 2012 story The Semplica Girl Diaries was a kind of signature piece for Saunders in his more speculative mode. In it, a man buys an “SG” lawn decoration which, we slowly discover, is made by stringing up immigrant women, as though on a washing line, by means of a micro-fibre inserted through their brains.

In this new collection, the eponymous story Liberation Day explores a similar conceit from the inside. In this case, the narrator himself is pinioned on a non-specific “wall” waiting to become an orchestrated voice in an evening concert conducted by his owner. As with the washing line, the reader is not invited to believe the hokum science; the explanation is kept loose. We do, however, keenly understand the sense of suspension, of a waking sleep or living death that this amnesiac chorus represents.

Saunders’ characters are happy in their difficulty, at least at first. In Ghoul, they are performers in a huge theme park that seems to have no limits, and they love their stupid jobs. These happy prisoners endure cheery degradations while holding outlandish props and, as in other stories, they are plucky, hopeful and hugely anxious to please. Their creator subjects these lovely, fretful people to pratfall and disaster, all of it brilliantly escalated, in order to show us lives made antic by denial. The result is both tragic and lighthearted. Even pinned to a wall and with their memories wiped, they are so darn proud and self-improving and willing to be good, you might say they are the best of America.

Saunders invents these joke prisons in order to remind the reader of the various prisons – economic, psychological and spiritual – which we build for ourselves. The first and last is the prison of the self: “You are trapped in you,” a voice says to the protagonist of The Mom of Bold Action, after an ordinary woman’s moral outrage goes awry. Even in this naturalistic piece, however, the voice enters her car as an imagined “beam of forgiveness” that is “green” and which lands “near the glove compartment”. When you are in the habit of making the allegorical physical, it is a simple step to hanging the poor and indebted on washing lines and walls.

Saunders characteristically begins a story with someone mid-thought, their diction fragmented, like jottings or notes made before their purpose becomes clear.

Why was she holding a can opener? Hmm. That could be something.

It’s as if the characters are making their lives up as they go along. Many are talking to themselves, their cadences running close to internal chatter, that repetitive self‑talking monologue that can be hard to shake out of your head. This sense of enclosure slows the reveal, both to the character and (at a wilful stretch) to the reader, of the conditions they must escape. On the way, there are vaudevillian bursts of delight, reverses, surprises and romance. These stories are not afraid of plot. Much of the pleasure of reading them comes from watching Saunders take an outrageous premise and resolve it by the rules of old-fashioned fiction in a bravura, high-wire act.

A pleasing thing about the characters in Liberation Day is how many of them are, in one way or another, artists and creators. They write emails or provoking essays; their fictions and opinions have an effect in the world. Some exist in the space between performance and creation and they love their work because it makes new meanings, and is sometimes beautiful. Liberation Day involves a runaway choral interpretation of Custer’s last stand, which remakes the myth of the lonely hero on the hill.

A nostalgia for American optimism runs through these pages, and this includes a nostalgia for half-decent capitalism, one in which the rich held their economic fodder in something like affection. Saunders is never less than political; he seems to say it is no longer possible to be otherwise. Love Letter, the simplest and most chilling story here, is dated 202-, and it shows the slide into an authoritarian society, as seen from a suburban front porch. No one seems to notice; they just feel a mild discomfort, like the slowly boiled frog.

In these punitive worlds in which people fail further, by choice and by misadventure, it seems impossible that they will find a way forward, but they do. By the end of a Saunders story, the characters know what is going on; they see their condition, and this awareness is a gift and the possible beginning of change. The resolutions are sometimes tiny. “What she had to do now,” thinks the mom of bold action, “was reach over, pick up the bag, open the car door, drop one foot into the grey slush.” That much she can do.

These characters are not redeemed or saved, they do not transcend: the hint is in the title – these stories are about liberation. In Mother’s Day a character dies right there on the page, and she finds wisdom and relief in the idea that she can now, finally, stop being who she is.

Saunders is the all-American Buddhist whose novel, Lincoln in the Bardo, described something that had never been written before: the release of the dead from the strictures of self. The same fusion of spirituality and patriotism makes Liberation Day a unique read. Saunders is funny and kind as ever, and his narrative virtuosity puts him up there with the best. I just hope he doesn’t feel too trapped by the perils and pleasures of the desk.

#books #liberation day #reviews #George Saunders