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withleeknow · 4 months

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wishful thinking. (02)

chapter two: in plain sight

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut warnings: cursing, drinking, suggestive content at the end, could've been edited more but oh well lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Damn baby, I'm a train wreck, too I lose my mind when it comes to you I take time with the ones I choose And I don't want to smile if it ain't from you

boyfriend - Ariana Grande ft. Social House

You end up not seeing Minho, nor any of your other friends, at all in the few days leading up to Yeonjun’s party.

True to your words, you were mostly holed up in your place, running on nothing but caffeine and sheer frustration, trying to finish your elective class’ final paper on the differences between the views of Greek philosophers. Time really flies when you wish it would slow down, because you could've used a couple more days to perfect the godforsaken thing.

You’ve been texting Minho though, and honestly, the man is practically a saint. You barely even talked about anything besides your stupid paper and your high maintenance perfectionist professor, and yet, he still listened to you yap away. He even offered to help you with your footnotes and citations, which you didn’t need, but the gesture was nice. If you had turned to Seungmin with your whining, he probably would've muted your notifications after three messages.

Regardless, all complaining aside, you did manage to pull through and finish the paper in the end, letting out a big sigh of relief the very second you clicked on the Send button on yours and your professor’s email thread just five minutes before the deadline.

Before you know it, it's already Saturday and Minho should be here any minute now so you two could go to the party. You’ve been working hard. You deserve to let a little loose tonight.

Even though a college party isn’t exactly your top choice of ways to wind down from stress, the mention of free and unlimited booze sure does sound alluring.

When your phone lights up with a simple i’m here from Minho, you quickly throw on a cardigan over a simple black camisole and denim shorts and check your makeup in the mirror one last time before heading downstairs. He texted you a couple hours ago, saying he had some stuff to pick up near your place and asking if you wanted to walk to Yeonjun’s together. You sent him back an enthusiastic yes!!! in a matter of seconds, because lord knows you’d rather not enter the front door of that house unaccompanied.

You opted for a simple fit tonight, mostly because you couldn’t be bothered to put on anything more decent only to go to the equivalent of a frat party.

“Hey, Min.” Your voice pulls him away from scrolling through his phone, diverting his attention to you instead.

“Hey,” he says, tucking the device into the pocket of his jeans. When he gives you a once-over, you do a little twirl for him, finishing off with an exaggerated kick of your foot at the end. “You look nice.”

“Just ‘nice’? I’m trying to get laid tonight. ‘Nice’ isn’t gonna cut it,” you joke.

He stares at you, a bashful expression befalling his features, the corner of his mouth lifted upward as he smiles in hubris. “You’re trying to get laid by whom?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “You tell me.”

He rolls his eyes affectionately before throwing an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. One of his hands musses up your hair that you spent twenty minutes trying to make look perfect, prompting you to poke him in the side so he would let go of you.

“Hey!” you scowl, smoothing over the strands that he flicked out of place. “I worked hard on that!”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, clearly amused by the temporarily sulky look on your face. “Didn’t want you to look too pretty. Can’t have all of the attention on you. Someone might try to steal you away from me.”

“Did it occur to you that maybe I want some attention tonight? I’ve been a hermit all week, I deserve a little something.”

“Is my attention not enough for you?”

You squint at him for a second. Then, you start walking in the direction of Yeonjun’s house without waiting for him. You hear Minho launch a laugh your way, and the scuffling of his shoes on the concrete pavement as he easily catches up with you in a few strides.

He leans down to whisper directly into your ear, making your cheeks heat up but you’re glad that they’re partially masked by the poorly lit street. “You know you never have to try.”

The walk to the party takes about fifteen minutes. When you’re rounding the street corner that leads to Yeonjun’s place, you can already hear the booming music coming from the biggest house on the block. Even from a distance, you can see people on the lawn and the two balconies on the second floor. You gotta give it to the guy - he sure knows how to throw a party.

The second you enter the premises, you’re almost taken aback by how crowded it actually is even though you expected this. A typical Yeonjun party.

You tug on Minho’s shirt, beckoning him to bend down so you could talk into his ear over the sounds of bad EDM and people basically having to scream in each other’s faces. “Are Hyunjin and the others here yet?” you ask.

“They got here right before us. I think they’re in-”

“Y/N!” The two of you whip around at the sound of a shrill voice calling out your name. Yeonjun practically shoves his way through the crowd of people when he spots you, bounding up to you and Minho with a bright grin on his face. “Glad you could make it!” he says, paying no mind to the man next to you at all. He eyes you up and down, shamelessly tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Damn, you look really good tonight.”

You give him a playful eye roll. Nonetheless, you still tell him, “Thanks.”

“You look that good to come to my party?”

You don’t mind at all the fact that Yeonjun is a natural flirt. That’s just a part of his personality, he’s inherently charming like that. It’s harmless and it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Everything is all in good fun.

“Would you believe me if I said this is what I’d wear on a midnight convenience store run?”

“Ouch, you wound me.” Yeonjun says, holding a hand over his heart to emphasize his point. “C’mon, you can admit it.”

You open your mouth, a quick comeback about to be thrown his way but Minho chimes in from beside you.

“You should believe her,” he deadpans, stepping closer to you, one of his hands grazing your back. He's even standing straighter, with his chest all puffed out. “She even dresses like that when she takes out the trash.”

You turn to gasp at him before punching him right in the pec. “Hey!” Yeonjun is all but forgotten in a blink of an eye, because you have to defend your honor first.

“What? I’ve seen you do it wearing this exact same outfit.”

“Stop lying. It’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? I distinctly remember you wearing this when you went to take out the trash that night a couple of weeks ago while we were hanging out at your place.”

“Nuh uh. I didn’t take out the trash that night,” you protest, frowning. “I made you throw it out for me on your way-”

Yeonjun interrupts you with a chuckle, glancing between you and Minho as he gives your friend's shoulder an awkward pat. They share a look that you don’t quite understand. “Alright, duly noted. I’m gonna make myself scarce,” he says. “Help yourselves. Booze is in the kitchen!”

After you’ve finally squeezed your way into the kitchen that’s overflowing with people, you narrow your eyes at Minho. “What was that about?”

“What?” He scans the selection of liquor bottles on the kitchen island before asking you, “Rum and Coke?”

Your favorite.

You nod eagerly, momentarily distracted before you have to circle back to your question.

“What was all that back there with Yeonjun, Mr. Grumpy Cat?”

“What was what?” He pulls out two solo cups from a nearby stack, along with some napkins, and meticulously wipes the plastic cups even though they look pretty clean to you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You raise a disbelieving eyebrow. He shrugs.

“I didn’t know you and Yeonjun were that close.” Minho seems casual as he tells you this, not looking at you as he fetches the necessary liquor and soda from the sea of glass and plastic bottles in front of you.

“We’re not. I’m kinda friends with him because Jess is friends with him.”

“Okay,” he acknowledges, though he doesn’t seem entirely pleased with… you don’t even know what. “I don’t like him. He’s loud.”

“That’s not a reason. Aren’t you friends with him too?”

You watch as he mixes your drinks, a sight you’re familiar with whenever you attend house parties together. He’s always your designated bartender.

One for you, one for him.

One part rum, two and a half parts coke.

“It is a reason. And ‘friends’ is a stretch,” he says, handing you your cup before he tends to his own. His has less liquor in it, because you both know you like yours stronger. “We’re acquaintances at best.”

“You’re loud too.”

“My brand of loud is different.”

“Is it?”

He gives you a look. An offended cat, if you’ve ever seen one.

“Well, Yeonjun’s not bad,” you tell him. You take a sip of the drink, then give him a subsequent thumbs-up. “He can be a bit much for some people, but I don’t really mind it.”

When he’s done, you both try to navigate the battlefield that is Yeonjun’s extremely cramped abode. You try to stay as close to him as possible, meaning away from the loud boys that are either trying to get shitfaced as quickly as possible, or trying to suck faces with any girl they could find as quickly as possible.

“Still. You don’t think the flirting was a bit much?”

Minho pulls you to him by your elbow when some guy - probably a little more than tipsy, judging by the unsteadiness of the legs that carry him - tries to bulldoze his way through the crowd behind you.

“He’s always like that. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s harmless.”

“If he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You blink at him in surprise, feeling like the question came out of nowhere. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s just a question,” he says, then repeats himself. “So, if he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You let him guide you to a spot that’s more breathable, where people aren’t practically on top of each other trying to weave their way through. You think about it for a second, then realize that there isn’t much to think about. “No,” you say decisively.

Because it doesn’t make sense to envision you and Yeonjun together. You practically sit on two opposing ends of the same spectrum. People often say that opposites attract, but this isn’t one of those cases.

And… because you simply feel strange thinking about yourself and someone else. Like it's something you shouldn't do.

Minho gives you a hum in acknowledgment of your answer, which you barely catch over the loudness of the party. You do catch the hint of a smile that tugs at the corner of his lip though, before he cranes his neck to scan the room for any trace of your gang of thieves.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you run the words over in your head before you decide to utter them out loud. Like you told him just now, harmless, right? “I’d say you’re jealous of Yeonjun.”

He turns, stares at you for a moment with unreadable eyes.

“And what if I am?”

There’s something incredulous in the way you look at him. You think he would just wave you off or roll his eyes and move onto a new topic, not expecting him to fire back with a question you can’t really answer.

Or maybe he’s just playing along. You can’t tell.

“Am I that good in bed?” you chuckle, hoping he doesn’t notice the inkling of nervousness in your voice. “Did I do a number on you?”

He raises both eyebrows, pursing his lips as if in thought. Then, he answers, “Something like that.”

There’s a part of you that wants to dig deeper, to get him to say what he really means because there’s something in his eyes and there’s something in the way that his hand has moved to its designated place on the small of your back that makes your stomach roll with anticipation.

Again, you don’t like that he keeps getting harder for you to read.

You try to think of words to say, of questions to ask, though you know this party isn’t the best place to voice them. “What d-”

“There you are!” Hyunjin pops up from behind Minho, practically jumping onto his back like a jumpscare ghost in a horror game, startling the both of you and almost making the grumpy cat spill his drink. Minho groans as he tries to shove his friend off, before sending Hyunjin a glare that makes the man bow his head in apology. He promptly drags you to where your friends are gathered on a big couch near the back of the room - Chan and his girlfriend Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, along with a distinct absence of a few more faces.

“Where are the others?” you ask, plopping down next to Changbin, followed suit by Minho.

“Jisung is stuck finishing a project,” Chan informs you. “And Jeongin is taking his girl to that new drive-in movie place.”

“They’re still in their honeymoon phase?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Ah yes, young love. Good for them.”

You catch up with everyone about your week, about their week; gossip about how much Yeonjun might’ve spent on this party and where his family’s downright insane wealth actually comes from, about Seungmin’s on-and-off situationship (which might be more interesting than all of the above).

Minho remains seated next to you the entire time you’re all drinking and laughing with each other. He keeps subtly touching you one way or another - a hand on your back because no one’s really noticing, a shoulder brushing yours, a thigh touching yours, a knee nudging your own every now and then.

It’s not until you finish your drink that Minho asks if you want another one, then stands up to head to the kitchen when you say Yes, please.

The second he’s out of earshot, Hyunjin jumps into action, motioning for everyone to huddle together, like he’s about to share classified information.

“Minho is seeing someone,” he says immediately.

“What?” Changbin asks. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your body immediately stiffens at the conversation’s sudden turn. You try to look as nonchalant and quiet as possible, as if this is just a talk about the weather, missing the way a pair of eyes flits to you outside of your peripheral vision.

Hyunjin purses his lips, before clarifying, “I went through his phone last week.”

“You went through his phone?” Chan frowns, shaking his head disapprovingly. “That’s not cool, dude.”

“He was in the bathroom and his phone was just sitting there unlocked. Then he got a text and I had to!” Hyunjin holds up his hands defensively. “Anyway, I don’t know if they’re dating or if they’re just fooling around, but there is someone! He’s simping hard.”

“How do you know that?” Seungmin chimes in. “Do you even know who it is?”

“I don’t know who it is. That’s what I need you guys to help me find out. There wasn’t a name name. He just calls her his-”

“What on earth are you guys doing?” Minho’s voice makes everyone disperse, leaning back into their respective seats like they were caught doing something they shouldn’t. He sits down beside you again, handing you your cup back. You give him an appreciative but awkward smile. “What is Hyunjin blabbing about this time?”

“Nothing!” Hyunjin practically squeaks. The poor guy can’t spin a little white lie to save his life. Then he has the audacity to look offended as he gapes, “Also, why did you automatically assume it was me?”

“Because it’s always you at the scene of the crime.”

“It happened one time! No, twice. It was only those two ti-!”

Seungmin cuts in flatly. “He said you’re whipped for a girl you’re seeing.”

Everyone stops to stare at Minho. Even you turn your head to look at him, trying to gauge how he’ll respond to this. It makes you a little guilty, seeing that you’re part of the secret too, and yet he has to shoulder the lies by himself.

Well, technically, there hasn’t been any lying involved up until now. Just a simple withholding of the truth.

His face hardens for a brief moment, and you think he lets it show on purpose - his way of telling Hyunjin that he’s annoyed - because Minho can put on a flawless poker face when he wants to. There’s a couple of seconds where he clenches his jaw before he relaxes, the sharpness of his features softening as he shrugs off the accusation. “I am most certainly not whipped for anyone,” he says. “It’s just a casual thing.”

“If it’s just casual, why were you being so secretive about it, huh?” Hyunjin prods.

“I wasn’t being secretive. I just didn’t think it was anybody’s business,” Minho answers coolly.

“We’re your best friends! I tell you guys everything.”

“You sure do. Even things I’d rather not hear about.”

Jess and Changbin burst into light laughter, and you chuckle along with them but you don’t really find it that funny. You’re just trying to blend into the background, be a fly on the wall and observe how things unfold. Minho has assured you that there’s nothing for you to worry about, that there’s no way they could find out about the secret, but still.

Hyunjin groans exasperatedly. The nosiest drama queen you know. “Seriously, who’s the girl? I’m dying of curiosity here!”

“Drop it.” Minho glares at him.

“Just give me a hint! Is it someone we know?”

“You haven’t eaten tissues in a while, have you?”

“Try me. I’m not scared of you anymore.”

“Hyunjin, I swear to-”

“Okay!” Chan claps his hands together suddenly. “Let’s just all agree that we are all entitled to our privacy and people can share whatever they want with whoever they want when they’re comfortable, yeah?”

Everyone nods in agreement, except for Hyunjin who narrows his eyes petulantly at Minho as if to say This isn’t over. No one wants to poke a disgruntled tiger, let alone about something he seems so disinterested in sharing. Minho has always been a notoriously private person, even with the rest of the group.

Changbin shuffles a new topic into the mix to move things along, which you aren’t very keen on contributing to at the moment. When no one seems to be looking, Minho places a hand on your knee, rubbing it soothingly as if he can sense the unease that you’re feeling. It makes you glance at him, though neither of you says anything. You just look at each other for a moment, then turn back to the group when someone calls your name.

Two hours and three rum and coke’s later, you were coming down from a good high when someone suggested ditching Yeonjun’s party to go to a club.

Normally, you would say no. You could only do one social event at a time, needing to recharge your metaphorical battery before you let yourself be dragged into the next one.

But you decided to make an exception for tonight.

Though, you promptly realized that it was probably a mistake.

You prefer the loudness of Yeonjun’s party than here. It’s loud and crowded, since it’s a Saturday night, and since it’s a club. The air is sticky and stuffy. The lights are perpetually blinding and headache-inducing. You’re not even on the dancefloor; you’re just hovering near the entrance and the bar, and there’s still barely any room to move. People keep trying to shove you out of their way, even with Minho attempting to act as your human shield.

You let your displeasure be known through a deep frown.

Minho catches onto your chagrin almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning close to your ear to make sure you hear him over the music.

“Too many people,” you try to raise your voice so the booming noises don’t drown you out. “Can we go somewhere over there?”

He turns around, taps on Chan’s shoulder to get his attention before gesturing vaguely to that spot near the back that you just pointed out to him, presumably to let the others know that you’ll be wandering over there.

He takes your hand and leads the way. In the back, it’s still loud but less deafening than before, and much less crowded compared to the areas surrounding the dance floor.

“Better?” he asks.

You lean against the wall though you probably shouldn’t. The ick is apparent, but at this point in the night, you yourself are already feeling pretty gross anyway.

“A little bit,” you say. “Thanks.”

“You wanna go home? We can leave if you want.”

“Without saying goodbye?”

“Did you know that people who leave parties without saying goodbye save two days a year? It’s been researched.”

You rephrase your words so Minho would understand better. “Without Hyunjin’s permission?”

“Hyunjin has been pissing me off plenty all week. I can play my card for you.”

“What card?”

“The ‘I don’t give a fuck’ card.”

You tilt your head, clearly amused. “And how does that usually work out for you?”

“I don’t care how it works out because Hyunjin is not gonna do anything to me.” He shrugs. “Besides, I can always just throw him in the airfryer when he gets too annoying.”

This makes you laugh, recalling the exact moment Minho brought up the legendary instructions on how to cook Hyunjin.

“How violent,” you comment with a snort.

“He deserves it.”

“You know you still have a soft spot for him,” you say.

“I have a soft spot for you,” he replies.

“Now look who’s trying to get laid.”

He grins. “Could you blame me?”

Some drunk girls stumble into your space on their way to the bathroom, bumping into you, pushing you into Minho’s body where he instinctively puts a hand on your back to keep you steady. You glance up at him after the girls have safely arrived at the bathroom, only to find him already staring down at you. His back is turned toward where the lights are coming from and the angle shrouds his face in darkness, but you can still make out the stars twinkling in his eyes.

The sudden lack of space between your bodies makes your breath hitch.

“Are you still drunk?” he asks.

“No. Not really.” You don’t like the way your voice comes out small, vulnerable.

“I…” he starts, hesitating for a moment before he continues. His eyes flicker to your lips, and the breath that was previously caught in your throat further thickens. “Fuck, I really want to kiss you right now.”

For some reason, your heart leaps to your throat. It’s probably because of the remnants of alcohol refusing to leave your system, because how else would you explain the way your pulse quickens just from hearing those words coming from him?

He bites his lip, similar to how Yeonjun did it just a few hours ago, but seeing Minho do it is at least a hundred times more enticing.

You want him to kiss you too. You really do.

“What if the others see?” you protest meekly, but you’re already staring at his mouth, finding yourself gravitating toward him like he’s got you hypnotized.

“We’re all the way back here,” he tells you. “They won’t see anything.”

He leans closer until his lips are brushing yours. With a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your head, he meets your mouth in a soft kiss, which is a stark contrast to the upbeat and booming music blasting all around you. Some guy drunkenly gives you two a sleazy whistle, the sound coming from somewhere on your right, but neither of you pays it any attention.

Your hands come to clutch at the collar of his shirt like a lifeline. He’s never kissed you outside of the comfort of your bedroom before, let alone amidst a sea of people like this. It feels strange to be intimate with him in public, but at the same time, it excites you. There’s still a sense of anonymity because you’re camouflaged by the lights, masked by the darkness, hiding in plain sight.

The kiss gets more heated. He guides you a step back until you’re all pressed up against the wall, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging on it the way he likes that makes him groan against your mouth. He sucks on your bottom lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth, the wet muscle dancing with yours, making your knees buckle. It’s dizzying. It makes your head spin, and you don’t know if it’s because there’s still enough residual alcohol in your system to knock your world off its axis, or if it’s just him.

The hand previously on your hips sneaks underneath your shirt to rub at your bare skin. He gropes your breasts over the bralette you chose to wear tonight, squeezing the soft flesh in his palm, all the while slotting one of his legs between yours to help you grind on him. Your clothed cunt rolls over the denim of his jeans, and even though the friction is coarse and your movements are limited in this crowded space, the pleasure still sets your entire body alight. Minho spreads all over you like wildfire, and Minho consumes you like a hurricane.

You moan into his mouth when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, over the flimsy material of your undergarment. “Min,” you whimper desperately. You don’t know if he can hear you over the obnoxiously loud sounds coming from the speakers littered all over the place, but he groans against your mouth regardless. Almost like the nickname is driving him crazy.

He pulls back just slightly, to let the both of you catch your breath. “Should we go back to yours?” he asks, eyes still focused on your mouth.

You nod eagerly. You know you must be wet as hell right now, and if you have to wait any longer, you will probably explode from frustration. You might just drag him into that disgusting bathroom over there and let him have his way with you, but you will definitely regret it afterward because it’s a bathroom in a nightclub. It’s beyond revolting.

He helps you smooth out your hair, gentle and tender. In turn, you wipe your lipstick smudges on his face. Instead of taking you by the hand like he did earlier, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and navigates the two of you through the crowd, shielding you from anyone who might bump into you. You lean into the touch; it’s just comforting.

As you make your way back to the group - or what’s left of the group at the moment - his hand drops to his side again. There’s an inkling of disappointment that blossoms in you, but it dissipates quickly when Hyunjin spots you and lights up. Him and Seungmin are at the bar, seemingly trying to get the bartender’s attention. Changbin is next to them, but he doesn’t seem to care about anything other than the girl he’s chatting with. You try to scan the crowd for Chan and Jess, and find them a couple minutes later, standing in a corner, pressed up against each other just like you and Minho moments ago.

“Where did you run off to?” Hyunjin asks. Clearly Chan was too preoccupied with his girlfriend to relay the information.

“It’s too loud in here, I was getting a headache,” you say, only half a lie. You know your face must still be flushed from your impromptu makeout session, but you hope your friend can’t see the rosy shade painting your skin under all the flashing lights. “Min and I just went back there to see if it was quieter.”

“Okay.” He seems to believe you. “We’re trying to get drinks! You want anything?”

“I think I’m gonna just go home. You guys stay and have fun though.”

Hyunjin looks at you like he’s so flabbergasted. “It’s not even 3AM yet!”

“Headache,” you say, pointing to your temple with an exaggeratedly pained expression on your face. “I’ll stay out all night with you next time.”

“But-!” The second he opens his mouth to protest, Minho cuts in sharply, his tone leaving no room for anyone to argue despite the gigantic pout on Hyunjin’s face.

“I’m gonna take her home and call it a night too,” he simply says.

Hyunjin groans, but he relents in the end, muttering to you something that sounds like “You owe me one,” when you go to hug him goodbye. Before you and Minho can reach the door, you hear your man child of a friend call after you two in his pterodactyl voice, “Don’t make Minho’s girl jealous!”

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daisywords · 1 year

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it's.....

yeah I eventually want to publish but what I think a lot of non-writers don't understand is that Being An Author is not the point.

The story is the point. I write because my wip concepts interest me. I want to take the fine threads of this story in my head and weave them into something real. And part of that is making it into something shareable, something that someone else could read. The goal of someday publishing/sharing your work in some form makes the whole process more driven, the same way that volleyball is just more fun when you keep score.

So yes I write and yes I'd like to publish but that doesn't mean publishing is all there is. It's not about winning, it's about playing to win. And that's a crucial difference to me.

So it's actually not encouraging when people are like oh stop being a perfectionist! don't you just want to get something out there? Don't you just want to get your name out into the world?

No! I'm not writing books just so I can put "published author" in my LinkedIn bio! I'm not here just for some soundbite indicator of success. I'm going to publish my book when it's good and ready, even if it takes years and years more to simmer. And if it's a success, that's great! But it's also a success right now, because I'm having fun! I'm engaging in a fulfilling hobby! I'm experiencing an entirely unique lens of living! I'm working with a purpose!

So if you want to talk to me about my writing career, you could at least, you know, ask what the book is about, thank you very much.

#this is just my opinion/experience #I know that lots of people have different approaches and goals #and there's absolutely nothing wrong with writing for the money #mostly just still grinding my teeth about a not great conversation from last week

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poetrysmackdown · 4 months

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some informal thoughts

hello! hope the holiday season has been kind to all of you. and i hope all my jewish followers had a lovely hanukkah! anyways, since i said a few months ago that i’d pick poetry smackdown back up sometime around this time of year, i thought i should make a post. the gist of it is that i’m still quite busy, i have a break that’s about three weeks shorter than I was planning on, and i don’t currently have the mental bandwidth required to read, contemplate, and sort through poem submissions in a way that does justice to them, even if i were to recruit some friends to help out. since running a tournament format requires at least five weeks of continued engagement once it’s underway, and since i’m not at capacity to offer that right now due to the change in my schedule, i’m gonna have to bow out for now. sad bc i was looking forward to it!

my hope is that i’ll have some more time over the summer to hunker down with it, in which case you’ll be hearing from me. it’ll frankly depend on the kind of job i land in for the summer, but i find that my unemployed spirit can typically keep me doing stupid shit regardless of workload...to a point. i don’t want to make any promises because i don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up just to let them down again LOL. i do admit the amount of exposure the first tournament got has made me feel like more of a perfectionist this time around, doubly because i don’t feel that i’m very suited to being a public online presence (even a relatively quite small one)—i’m bad enough at responding to emails for my own real life responsibilities, let alone tumblr asks for the silly responsibilities i invent for myself lol. that’s not to say i no longer want to do it, or i don’t enjoy it, or even that i don’t feel capable of making a really interesting bracket—just that if i am working to put something new together, and if people are taking the time to submit poems they care about, then i don’t want to half-ass it.

my second admission is something like this. I made the original bracket as a celebration of poetry and our relationships to it. yes it was silly and competitive, and the poems were very tumblr, but still, celebration was the intention—I wanted to have conversations about poetry. I stand by the bracket format as a fun and valuable way to foster conversations about poetry, but truthfully, the poems i’m wanting to have conversations about right now—the poems that we should be talking about right now—are ones that i'm not comfortable putting in a bracket. I reblogged The Baffler’s Poems from Palestine collection on here earlier, and Najwan Darwish’s “Who Remembers The Armenians?”, which I still often find repeating through my head when I'm traveling from one place to another, walking home or riding the bus. I came across this beautiful thread recently where people have been translating Dr. Refaat Alareer’s “If I Must Die” into their own languages (this just makes my translator's heart sing!!!!!!). @havingapoemwithyou has been posting some great poems from and for Palestine as well—check out their tag here.

There's always more to add, and I'll be posting more on here as I come across it, but that's what I feel anyone should be focusing on right now when it comes to poetry. i think poetry can be an escape but it should never be a distraction. does that make sense? i wouldn't be against doing a one-off poll here or there, but it feels weird to be making a tournament for poetry right now, or anytime soon. i feel like what free time i have right now is still best utilized helping my friends with organizing in the real world. and god, a bit off-topic but while I'm talking, fuck poetry foundation—I have so much respect for all the poets keeping up the boycott, because while i think it's a simple decision, it's not always an easy one (Aurielle Lucier discussed that here).

anyways, if you read all of this, thank you for your time!! I could go on and on, but really this was just meant to be a message telling y'all that there won't be another tournament for a while lol. even so i'll be trying to use this small silly platform as best i can until palestine is free because that's the absolute least i can do.

#not a poll #also i'm closing my ask box for now because i know i don't have the bandwidth to answer anything rn. sorry :(#but feel free to reply here with your thoughts and any resources and i'll do my best to respond #or even messages might be fine. something about the ask format just gives me anxiety sometimes lmao #cannot stress this enough i am so so so bad at responding to things #even when i want to or enjoy doing it

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whisk3ysugar · 11 months

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Okay, so I was holding off on posting this because it's wrecking my nerves. And it's driving me insane at the same time. I'm a perfectionist so that's cute. (No it's not.) But here's my first series/chapter/prologue/thing... <3

Prologue Summary: An Alchemax lab worker was successful on her own. Normal. Same routine every day. No straying from the usual path. Not until her own fear became apart of her. Not until she met him. The liberator. Protector. The leader. Miguel O’Hara.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence (Soon), Mentions of Blood, No NSFW (Yet?), Terrible grammar errors (Probably), First post.

A/N: Like I stated before, this is my first writing piece on Tumblr. I also haven’t written in general for a WHILE.. So pls excuse the cute little imperfections <3 (I hope I can write chapters for this soon too!!!)

What exactly made you deserve landing in such a foreign.. and dangerous.. overall mysterious place?

It’s not like you remembered what even happened.

All you could remember now, was waking up on the cold floor below you. Head aching. What? Something was leaking from your head. Warm liquid made its way down your forehead as you tried to piece together your fuzzy thoughts. Where were you? Back at home? Surely this wasn’t your apartment in Brooklyn. But you couldn’t figure it out. Especially when you were fighting the feeling of unconsciousness. You had to piece together what was happening before you might inevitably black out.

…Recall the events. Remember.

You were at home. Long day of work put you in a vulnerable state. Alchemax scientists weren’t the easiest to work with especially when all you seemed to do was mess up. In their eyes. You had been designing a new function for the machine your boss had scrapped. It was a perfect base for your new project. But you’re getting off track. Finished up work. Left your keyboard in your lab coat pocket so you had to return. Enter the office room. Silence. Dark. Go in, grab the card, get out. Easy. Except it wasn’t.

You went in quickly. Taking your usual route to your cubicle helped you arrive faster. You grabbed your card. You made it home? Wait. No, that’s not right. Why couldn’t you remember? Why was your brain so damn hazy right now??

Backtrack. You went into the office and grabbed your keycard. Then you locked up the room. Habit. You went down the hall and.. And?

That’s right.

You went through the shortcut.

The incredibly dangerous shortcut that your boss happened to mention a couple HUNDRED times not to take. But it was just a door and a lab.. No big deal. It was such a huge space anyways. There was a big machine in the middle. Branded with your company’s logo. You took a look at it. It was huge. Just a few more steps closer and you were able to see every intricate detail. The only detail you missed was a white spider making its way up the web it must’ve spent hours threading and making.

You could make out every wire in the machine. But you couldn’t make out the spider crawling up your sleeve. That is.. until it sunk its fangs into you.

A loud shriek echoed through the lab walls as you failed your hand around in the air. It stung. And it didn’t help your already raging fear of spiders. You flung the light colored spider off and rubbed the harsh bite mark before making your way the hell out of that lab.

♡♥︎

After closing up the rest of the office, you made your way out of the facility and into the noisy streets.

Except.. it wasn’t noisy.

What? At this time of day, the streets were booming with noise.. Well, normally they were. So you excused the fact that it was quiet and made your way back to your apartment.

The moment you opened your door you got hit with a wave of drowsiness. How? You kept asking yourself these questions but you couldn’t even answer them. And within the next 10 seconds.. you couldn’t seem to comprehend what was happening.

It started with a loud ringing which contrasted the quiet you were experiencing a few moments before. Then came the nausea. Lastly.. your graceful fall straight to the floor.

That was it.

That’s all you remembered.

So how did you get here? On this rough concrete floor.. Head throbbing. Body shaking. Unable to remember any moments after your fall.

Well as if the world was just listening to your thoughts.. everything was answered with a flick of your wrist and a terrible thrust forward.

Web.

No. No, no, no, no.. NO. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. This was just in those comics you spent too much time reading. Only in the action movies. It was all fake. Couldn’t be real. No.. You were hallucinating. That had to be it. Would explain the headache you were enduring currently. But..

How could you possibly explain the blinding lights and colors of such an ethereal realm? How could you explain all those different costumes.. all with that same stupid emblem you saw on TV when the news reporters tried to degrade the so-called heroes that protected your city. How could you even begin to try to process those specific dark colors that seemed to contrast all others.. It was a blur. Messy shades that put together a stranger right in front of you. None of your thoughts or questions could be answered.

Not when your head was throbbing and you could barely think.

Not when you were summoned to a new land.. Or rather, a new world?

Not when beast in the form of man had made its way toward you.. and all you could do was stare.

Not when your life had stopped and you were being pulled into your new one.

Not when you were met with the devil himself.

Miguel O’Hara.

♡♥︎

#miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman #marvel #spiderman x reader #iminlovewithmiguelohara

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glassrowboat · 3 months

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Red Ribbon

Word count: 900+

Authors note: The start of a small series I'm going to write of the seven colors of the rainbow in ribbons with some of our genshin faves! Also a slight spoiler for Chiori's kit.

The small shop was always such a cozy place to huddle up in, the one specific chair that had been covered in loose scraps of cut out fabric currently occupied with your figure as you fiddle with a spool of something or another. Pretty red ribbon right under your fingers as Chiori slowly walks around the pinup body adorned with a dress.

The click of those overly complicated heels filled the room as you watched Chiori circle around the mannequin in the center of the room, its fabric body adorned in layers of cloth. Another commision she was working on no doubt as she snipped a loose thread. Precise as possible, that is until she tries to toss it over at you.

The string falling on the ground between you two. Apparently it was your fault you had become her designated place to pile scraps after you took the chair she would usually use for such a task. Red ribbon being wrapped around your finger and undone again and again mindlessly as you watched her.

“Now where did I put that?” Talking to herself again, a habit she would never openly admit to, Chiori pat down the apron she had on that held her tools. “(Y/n) have you seen-”

“This?” Holding up the spool of ribbon you had been playing with a smile easily crossed your features, even as her eyes narrowed. “No, I haven't.”

“Then you have no issue giving it to me.” Walking over to you Chiori tried to snatch the item in your hand, her sleeves rustling from the action as they flowed behind her. You never got how those kimono sleeves didn't get in her way all the time but she always pulled it off somehow. Good for her.

That however wasn't enough of a reason to give in as you climbed up further on the chair, feet pushing against the cushion as you stood up from your curled up position, knees no longer pushed up against your chest as you held her prize high in the air.

Hopefully she doesn't deem this offense enough of one to use her visions abilities. Stupid teleportation abilities.

“If I recall correctly, taking possession of another's items could be considered a crime. Would you truly really want me to take you to court over this, (Y/n)?” A flick of her dress, those same sleeves billowing in the wind as she crossed her arms. Oh she was so cute when she tried to look mad.

Deciding to play along you held the ribbon up higher, making sure it was above even your head. “Well, when I go down to the Fortress of Meropide should I come back with a fit rate of the Guards uniforms?”

Wait, is she actually considering it? Head tilting, pretty brown hair shifting over her shoulder as Chiori stood in silence before softly shaking the thought off. “Just give me the ribbon back.”

Huh, this must be for a commission if she's being such a little stickler. Not that that would lessen your need for a bit of mischief. As they say, breaks are healthy. “How about a deal?”

“A deal for my own possessions?”

What's a synonym for stickler again? Hypercritic, perfectionist, nitpicker.

“Don't make it sound like that.” Even if it is true. “Come on pretty, a kiss is all I want and then I'll give it back. Please?”

A small sigh could be heard as she glanced back between her prize and you. Red ribbon tickling at your wrist as the spool unwound from your earlier actions. A standoff is currently happening in Fontaine's very own Chioriya Boutique. At least there's no guns involved, just a miffed geo vision haver and her lover.

“You make such a big deal over a kiss?” She asked, brows furrowing as she looked up at you. “Next time just ask instead of acting like this.”

But where's the fun in that?

“Well?”

Leaning down just enough so she could get on the tip of her toes, or more like those heels, you pucker your lips to try and coax her into giving what you wanted.

Oh that heavy sigh. Yet there her pretty face was coming in closer. The details of Chiori's eyeshadow clear to you, the pretty light tint of powder as her eyelashes fluttered closed. “Fine.” And with that she kissed you.

The rich, heavy taste of coffee from Cafe Letece you had gotten for her earlier filling your senses. She had always been so insistent the run there was better than opening some random can she had imported over from Inazuma despite the fact she went through all the effort to have Kirara deliver it in the first place. Perhaps it was the fact she was so selective when she wanted the taste of home.

Well, the taste of your home was her as Chiori slowly pulled away. Her soft lips abandoning yours as the spool was snatched from her hand, robbed right under your fingers as the cardboard that it was wrapped around was replaced for air. Not even the sticker smacked on top labeling the thing for sale you had been picking at earlier was clinging onto your skin.

How rude.

“Beautiful,” you cried out as you hopped off the arm chair, stumbling over the floor as you landed, trying to chase after her in the small shop. “Wait, wait! Come back I want another!”

“Then it seems you'll have to find more ribbon to bargain with.”

Ignoring you Chiori went back to the pin up mannequin in the center of the room, holding up a strip of the ribbon to the sleeves of the dress as she pinned it in place with small metal needles.

Well…that's your girl alright.

“Love you, my pretty.”

#chiori #chiori x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #hoyoverse #x reader #gn reader #ribbons

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crimeronan · 4 months

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hey what is wwaitsoatl?

oh! it's what we are is the sum of a thousand lies, my most popular toh fic by FAR and the thing most toh people here started following me for. back before i got sucked down the princess luz hyperfixation rabbit hole. it's a fic that takes more work to write than any of my others because it has an incredibly involved drafting & editing process. bc i am a perfectionist.

the premise is a canon divergent timeline wherein belos suspects that hunter lied to him at the end of hunting palismen. and completely wrecks hunter's shit forever. and infects him with curse goop in the process. and darius (who, Very Importantly, does not yet have a friendly rapport with hunter) trips over the kid's half-dead body.

and freaks.

and kidnaps hunter n takes him to the owl house. bc that's the one surefire place of refuge on the isles.

there are a bunch of emotional threads, hence why it's novel-length and not even finished yet despite being about just four characters chilling in a house together.

mainly it's about:

hunter unraveling his cognitive dissonance and cult brainwashing in an AU where he doesn't have all of hollow mind's answers; his feelings are Incredibly complicated and messy & he gets incredibly mean and snarly about it

darius grappling with the fact that his own grief and resentment blinded him to a kid who Very Much Needed Him, darius dealing with the fact that actually he never DID grieve his mentor or his mentor's dead family

darius and hunter developing a rapport in a timeline where hunter very much has Not broken out of all the cop shit that darius disdains So Much. so darius is so fucking exasperated and tired all the time

eda trying desperately to help hunter learn to live with a curse / chronic pain / chronic illness, while having very little faith in herself to begin with

luz feeling Horrifically guilty about hunter's curse and injuries, bc she thinks she should have clocked the abuse and brought him home with her or otherwise stopped it

hunter developing an almost immediate and pathological emotional attachment to luz because of her kindness, which complicates all of his complicated feelings WAAAAAY MORE

eda, darius, AND luz all desperately trying to get hunter to admit that he's been abused and that what happened wasn't his fault. you would not believe how fucking long it takes.

i'm actually really, really, Really proud of it -- it's rare for one of a writer's best works to be their most popular, but this genuinely is one of mine. if not my best work, period. there's a lot of nuance and messiness and emotional complexity and grief and arguing that i'm SO happy with.

also, despite the subject matter, it's often extremely lighthearted. some of the funniest dialogue i've ever written is strewn throughout all these serious emotional threads.

i'd apologize for how long this response is but this story is a heart project and has 67,000 published words on ao3 so far. (the chapter i'm writing rn will likely be another ~8,000 words, then there are a couple more chapters to come.) so there's a lot to say!!

it's my most popular ao3 fic for any fandom, ever, in the 12 years i've been on the site. the response has been WILD. if you sort by kudos, it's the 31st most favorited owl house fic Of All Time, the 7th most popular fic involving darius, and the 5TH most popular hunter & luz relationship fic. again, of all time. which is. insane.

people have been very kind and patient with me having been too sick to work on it for a while. there was a seven-month break between chapters 8 and 9, and if i finish chapter ten soon then there'll have been a nine-month break between chapters 9 and 10. so i don't know how many people are actually going to come back to read it, a lot of ppl have moved on from the fandom and such. but i'm extremely extremely extremely grateful to everyone who's given it a look!

#replies #long post #toh #my writing #horrible mindscape trauma pals #dadrius #darius deamonne #eda clawthorne #wwaitsoatl #hunter toh #luz noceda #i really am in love with this story i like. i somehow forgot how in love i am with this story #but i do i love it so much. i love it So Much. i could talk about it for Ages

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sawtastic-sideblog · 5 months

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Mark stumbles into the bathroom, bloodied hands fumbling for a lightswitch. He finds it and flips it up. The light makes a dull buzzing before the room is washed in light.

"Fuck," the man grumbles as he goes to the medicine cabinet to search for the first aid kit. Once he finds it he sets that and Amanda's travel sewing kit on the counter. He starts to clean the wound, wincing as the disinfectant touches the raw flesh.

With trembling hands, Mark tries to thread the needle. He finally manages to get the black thread through the eyes of the needle. He braces himself against the counter and leans toward the mirror. The needle enters his flesh, he winces, but continues.

A rough, latex clad hand stops his movements. The reflection of Lawrence stares back at him. His expression unreadable.

Lawrence turns Mark around and gently pulls the sewing thread from his cheek. He is silent as he gets to work on Mark's face. The men stay silent for a time before Mark breaks it.

"Why are you helping me?"

"I'm a doctor. I took an oath."

"And, yet, you are an apprentice of John Kramer, the famed Jigsaw Killer."

A silence fall over them as Lawrence looks away, seemingly looking for an answer. Mark watches his hands thread the needle, with the correct thread, with a steadiness only a surgeon would have. Their eyes meet and they stay silent. The only sounds are their breaths, the buzzing of the light, and the movement and voices from their colleagues milling about the warehouse. Lawrence let's out a sigh.

"Fine. You were doing it wrong. It was going to scar. I mean, you were using sewing thread."

"So?"

"So," Lawrence says matter of factly. "I'm a perfectionist and you have a pretty face."

Mark's cheeks heat up. Well, one was already on fire, but now it's like someone poured gasoline on it. His stomach flutters. His eyebrows furrow. Why did Lawrence's words effect him like this?

The silence washes over them again as they stand in the bathroom. The sound of something metal hitting the floor in another room pulls both men from their thoughts.

"This is why we can't have nice things, Amanda!" Adam yells.

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Amanda yells back.

The corner of Lawrence's mouth pulls upwards at the exchange and Mark letsout a huff of air.

"Almost done. What happened to you, anyway?" Lawrence asks. As he pulls out bandages.

"Ray Jenkins happened. Bastard noticed me and threw a goddamned flower vase at my head. He missed, but he attacked me and held my face in the glass."

"Then that explains all the other cuts, the bruising, and the disheveledment of your person."

"Yeah, that explains it."

"All done. Take it easy for a few days, try to avoid eating on that side, and take some painkillers."

"Will do. Thanks, Doc."

"You're welcome, Detective," Lawrence says as he throws the gloves he had been wearing into the trash. He leans over to Mark and kisses th bandages above the wound. He grabs his cane and walks out of the bathroom, leaving a very confused Mark standing there. Mark's had goes to where Lawrence's lips had been, his heart racing.

"What the fuck?"

#here is a longer version #bonus points to anyone who can tell me what movie the subject is from #i now know they are called #3d shipping #saw 2004 #saw franchise #adam stanheight #lawrence gordon #leigh whannell #amanda young #john kramer #mark hoffman #saw fanfic #tobin bell

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nyhti · 6 months

Note

Oh! I forgot to respond! Anything would be cool for you to share. I love your headcanons for Scarecrow so anything like that?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm. I'm more shy about sharing Hugo headcanons, because we get very little canon information about pre-crisis Hugo (the Hugo I base my version on). With characters like Jonathan, who got an actual backstory, hobbies outside their gimmicks and what not, you have something to build your own headcanons around. You can come up with something, that wasn't in the original text, but that makes sense given what we know about the character. The headcanons are plausible and connected to canon, even if by a very, very thin thread. No such luck with Hugo. Because we know nothing about him, nearly every headcanon feels like it was pulled out of nowhere. It's not based on anything, because there's nothing to base it on. Coming up with headcanons for Hugo doesn't feel like expanding on an existing character, it feels like coming up with an OC.

So I'm a little shy to share the headcanons that are ”out there” to me (i.e. things with no canon basis), but I guess I can scrap together something lol xDDD I'm sure we all remember the iconic quote ”I am a model of mental health!” from Gotham Knights #8-11 ”Transference.” Even if you haven't read the story, you have surely seen this panel floating around:

And I like it. It's a funny line, but then there's also this exchange from Batman #356 ”The Double Life of Hugo Strange”:

Of course these are two different continuities, one pre- and one post-crisis, but it's still interesting how differently two people can write, what is supposed to be, the same character. The attitudes the different versions hold toward their mental health are like night and day. Usually in moments like this, I would simply pick one of them for my own verse, but this time I loved them both so much, that I just couldn't choose and so for a while I wondered how I could somehow have them both. I solved it by deciding that over time, Hugo's attitude toward the subject would change. It goes from ”I am a model of mental health!” to ”Does it matter?” In my verse, he begins to struggle with his mental health around his twenties. Back in the day, I used to headcanon he didn't start having symptoms until in his fifties, around the time we meet him in my verse, but I figured it works much better, if it started at a younger age. So, he has manic episodes. In his twenties, they weren't very severe yet. He did have a couple short hospital stays a few times when it all started, but symptoms really cleared up after finding the right medication. The hospital stays, however short they were, were not easy for him, though.

At first, he would try to deny there was anything wrong and that bringing him to the hospital was a mistake. The doctors would disagree, though, and after a week or two on medication, Hugo too would start to see that the way he had been acting wasn't normal. This is all very difficult for him, because he's a high achiever, a perfectionist. He needs to be the smartest, the strongest, the most powerful. He needs to be in peak psychical and mental condition at all times. He had a lot of great goals in life that he wanted to accomplish and ending up at a psychiatric ward most certainly wasn't one of them. It was a huge blow to his self-esteem. It really shook the mental imagine he had of himself. I'm sure he thought that mental illness is something that happens other people, people below him and so this was a bit of an identity crisis. I don't think he ever even thought about the pain the actual symptoms had cost him, all he ever thought about, was the pain to his ego brought on by the stigma of mental illness. I think another element that made his stays difficult, was that he was in med school at the time. It felt wrong to be the patient. This is not the position he had been studying for years to reach. I can just imagine young Hugo screaming at his psychiatrist: ”I am a model of mental health!”

Over time, however, especially after the medication proves so effective that Hugo can almost forget that he ever had episodes in his life, he would begin to accept the diagnosis, but only as a thing of the past. Something that he beat. He would still not be open about the diagnosis. If anybody ever asked him where he had been during those hospital stays, he would think of some convenient lie. Regardless, I think it is his own experience with mental illness combined with his general interest in the human mind that inspires him to specialize in psychiatry. I also think that he's stance on mental illness and mentally ill people would also soften. It has to, really. If he thinks mental illness only happens to those below him, does that mean he himself has now sunken somehow? Become less because of this? No, that can not be, he has to be the best, so clearly mental illness can in fact happen to anyone. Even the best of us. (I am now going to talk about how his illness developed and affected him later in life and for this, you need to keep in mind, that my verse is build upon pre-crisis continuity, so before deciding he wants to be Batman, he was a ”regular” criminal mastermind, only after money and power. He is sent to jail once Batman caught him and it is only years later, that he ends up in Arkham.)

In his late forties, when Bruce has become Batman and Hugo is arrested for the first time, his symptoms would start breaking through his medication. In these stressful situations his episodes would become more severe and start lasting longer. Since Batman was the first person to expose him and bring him down, he makes it his next goal to destroy him. It's really the only thing he can do. There simply cannot exist a person better than him, because he has to be the best. Also, he cannot let someone who humiliated him so live to tell the tale. And on a more practical level, he simply can no longer pull any larger jobs in Gotham City with Batman around, so getting rid of him becomes a necessity. It's during these fruitless struggles to beat Batman, that he starts experiencing psychotic symptoms for the first time. Around this time he also discovers Batman's identity and dons on the cape and cowl. At this point, he is about 50 and is admitted to Arkham for the first time. Ending up in prison was bad enough. His license to practice medicine was taken away, he was exposed to the world as a criminal and a heinous person, but it was still only prison. Prison couldn't take a way his believability among other criminals. Arkham is different, though. Ending up in the city worst ”nuthouse” not only made him lose respect and status among criminals, but also in his own eyes. It was an incredibly hard blow to his ego. Twice as hard as ending up at a psychiatric ward in his twenties.

At this point, he had been a psychiatrist for many years. If it was difficult for him to be the patient in med school, imagine how difficult it is for him now, especially when he now finds himself the patient in the exact field he specialized in.

And just as in his twenties, he would have to re-think his opinions on mental illness, and once again, the re-thinking comes from necessity. After the new medication helps him see things clearly again, there is no denying the fact he had been experiencing psychotic symptoms. What kind of a psychiatrist would he be, if he still tried to deny it when it was all so clear? He really came up against a wall here. His only options were to lie down and die or accept it and move on, to ask the world, to ask himself: ”Does it matter?”

#hugo strange

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fungusqueen · 7 months

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i'll post sewing updates soon (on my current quilt project) but damn why is it so mentally hard to "finish" projects when it's so easy to start them. I want to work on my efficiency when it comes to finishing projects as quickly as I can get the momentum to start them. I think part of it is perfectionist self-sabotaging where i'm worried I'm going to "ruin" the project during the most difficult parts or when entering uncharted sewing territory/techniques that are new for me. so I'd rather take a super long time picking up a project and putting it down towards the end, instead of just powering through. I think part of what needs to change is I need to get more comfortable with my sewing machine and just spend more hours working uninterrupted. anyway, just trying to finish my current project. I ran out of thread (in the color I needed) recently and had to run to the store and get more but now I'm in the home stretch, with plenty of thread, and listening to good music!

#sewing #quilting #personal #listening to albums all the way through helps me focus on sewing

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mstrickster · 3 months

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Did your crochet projects turn out the way you wanted? (Mine almost never do)

Also, who of the Ducks can crochet, and who is dying to learn and takes lessons from the one who knows, but ends up rage quitting and returning to try again and again because thEY WILL LEARN THIS DAMMIT THE YARN WILL NOT DEFEAT ME!?

(Hehe)

Most of the time they're not exact to the picture. However, I think that they generally have the same vibe as the pattern that I follow so I'm good with it. I don't really Like that some patterns have like the exact needle and thread you should use because I feel like that's kind of stifling creativity. Oftentimes I'll read that and go "Don't tell me what to do" and I'll do what I want anyways.

I don't know why but my first instinct for who knows how to crochet is Dean. I could totally see one of the Ducks trying to clown him about it he goes "yeah I crochet it. It strengthens your hands and builds hand-eye coordination dummy!"

With that being said I feel like the one who tries to do it but always quits because they can't figure it out is Julie. Julie is one of those people that's really good at a lot of things. So I don't think that she would be happy if something didn't work out her way. I could also see it being Adam but I don't think Adam would ever technically take up crocheting unless he had to. I say that because Adam is a perfectionist so he would try so hard to get it right. However, he is also very one track when it comes to minds so I don't think he would actually seek it out.

I could also see a Guy knowing how to crochet . He probably learned from his grandma. Guy is the type of person who says fuck gender roles. So he just kind of does what he wants.

Other than that I can't see any of the other ducks really trying it. Or actually doing it as a hobby maybe a few of them would try it as a one-off but not sticking to it just because it isn't there thing.

#The Mighty Ducks #Dean Portman #Julie Gaffney #Adam Banks #Guy Germaine

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darlingpwease · 11 months

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What?? I'm not even trying to escape this time 😭😭 she sounds so cool tho,, I don't know anyone irl who reads those kind of novels, and the people online who write about them are small so I always get excited when I see people talk/write about it lmao,, so she sounds amazing to talk to (I bet she was wonderful either way but I think you know what I mean)

That's alright <333 I absolutely love reading web novels,, so I read those kind of stories a lot

From me??? I just don't think it was ever brought up before for me to mention it. I think they're safe <333 /t ...👀 they're really good I'd suggest reading them some time

KNOW this novel? I practically BREATHED it when I first read it /j

🎉🎉

AAA so good so good <<333

He'd be so adorable clinging to you. When you first met him (again), you originally thought that it would be you following him, not the other way around. Maybe getting jealous over your past self, so whenever you go and take Xie Lian on a date, you do so to replace those memories with who you are now. Xie Lian has even caught on to it after a while, but he can't bare to tell you that not only do you have no reason to be jealous over yourself, but also that you're already doing something you've done before <//333

That doesn't make him any less happy though, he happily indulges you. Every new object you buy him is always similar to one you've done before, every festival you take him to, you both have already celebrated, every mountain to camp in and river to swim in, there's always a trace of you two. Not that either are complaining though.

Yes yes,, I agree I agree. Both are good, very good.

-panna cotta

🤨🤨🤨I can't trust you. the only thing I can do is believe that if I grab you by your fox tail, you won't run any further🙄 /t /j yes yes~ she was very absorbed in what she liked and passionate, and although she was too perfectionist, she was very sweet and loving to talk about her thoughts. we stopped communicating after I gave up my old works, but I still hope that everything is fine with her and she is now doing what she loves<3 (bad for them, though, I sympathize with everyone who doesn't know my cute flower boy<///3)

mhm,,, I prefer novels about transmigrators and the like than exclusively xiaxia — with rare exceptions</3 luo binghe my beloved<//3

I mean, you can enter topics without me having to raise the green flag🤨 our relationship is now an imbalance of power I see🙄😒 /t /hj I almost finished reading svsss at the time and accidentally found the 'blessing', but I could not bring myself to read the demonic cultivator, although it looks the most interesting and tragic,,, but I will accept your words, just because of your not completely fox-like authority, and at least some faith in your words.

🎤🎤🎤 tell me something else, I'm listening carefully, I don't trust simple words on the Internet!!! /t /j who are your favorite characters??? /gen

husband material<3333 im so so so in love with him until yuuta does not appear in front of me</33333

xie lian looks,,,, looks like a puppy. the very obsessive, emotional, sensitive and gentle puppy who puts chin on your palm and smiles like the july midday sun when everything around you seems to shine, emphasizing his extraterrestrial beauty, — only to be able to protect you from everything by more than cruel and ferocious methods, not allowing anything else and no one to take you away from him, going against what should happen when xie lian finds you again and again, eventually becoming so good at it that he begins to feel when you reappear and be yours a shadow by the time you were already mature enough that the thread of your destiny began to weave — and was cut and intertwined into one where he would be the only thing in your life.

the Gods cannot interfere with what is about to happen, but he has already sunk down enough and has been overthrown not only and not so much by heaven, but also by you, kissing you while your fingers slide along his neck, stroking the marks on his thin skin, almost forgetting that he is a God, that he is much stronger and powerful than you when xie lian looks at you from the bottom up, touching your palms with lips and letting you let his hair down, enjoying the painfully familiar unfamiliar look; for a moment you see the most gentle and kind young man, looking with bright naive eyes, kind and impulsive, spoiled by the world and fate itself, not yet knowing either the dirt or the sadness of the world — eccentric, but divine, like only a soaring bird or the first ray of the sun after a hundred years of harsh winter. he was like a kaleidoscope of colors, unblemished by nothing but his morality, desire and you, stealing kisses from you while no one is looking, timidly intertwining his fingers with you, learning something like this for the first time — your prince was bright, colorful, intense and loud, he was everywhere and always with you, while your god was gentle, quiet and calm, like a gentle timid wildflower, much more beautiful than any decorative ones, but at the same time not at all the way you remembered the one who scratched your heart like a kitten with a claw. and you know that he sees it in your eyes, for a moment kissing more jealously and rudely, as if forcing you to think about him now, about what he is doing now, childishly hating when he saw in your eyes not himself now, but the prince who caused your death,

who killed you.

he tells you that you've met before, he knows you even when he was a prince, like a demon whispering to you about the time when you were almost lovers, and he promised that you would become Gods together and be always together, that he would protect you from everything and you would make this world perfect, — and you have strangely detailed dreams about a kingdom that no longer exists, and a facial craze, forcing you to wake up in a cold sweat while xie lian lies nearby, not needing sleep, but just wanting to be there with you — and immediately feeling that your heartbeat is going crazy while you're breathing hoarse, loud, scared, and he's gently soothing you, without asking what you dreamed, as if not for the first time encountering this,

and for a moment you are bitter that you may not be his first "you".

while he goes further, sees more, hears more, while you only look back, seeing that he has become different, and each time your memories are more and more mixed — when you were the child of a rich peasant, when you were the child of a rich merchant's concubine, when you were the eldest child of a high-ranking general, when you were a member of the royal family, when you became the child of a famous scholar from the city — and there he is, always he is, always leading you away from how it should be, as if already at the moment when you were born, your fate was intertwined with his, no matter in which state you were born or where, he will always find you. and the more memories mixed about it, the more thoughts mixed with others, the more glances, no longer understanding whether he looks at you or at that peasant, or at that townsperson, or at that heir to the kingdom — or as his future spouse, as if you can only be his spouse, to be with him like mandarin ducks, whom everyone is trying to separate with the help of blows of a stick on the water.

you are devoted to him, he is the only God in whom you believe, you know that you will never leave him and you will never stop believing in him — but you have limits when you no longer understand what you are doing, while xie lian only becomes even more clingy and needy, bringing you to your home, where it is very conveniently, he takes care that the house in the forest is comfortable and clean when you return, even if can't cook you anything delicious despite all attempts.

when he almost obsessively tries to make you understand that this is a beautiful house, with beautiful things, in a beautiful place, very beautiful and nice, as you love, he knows how you love, and you just... you get... tired. knowing that you are constantly repeating yourself, because you do not change the same way as he does, do not remember everything, do not know what you did and did not do until deja vu pounces on you, as if humiliating you in the fact that you constantly go to the same places. this is good at first, but the period of your reincarnation is painfully short, as if you are just floating around the world until you find a suitable body instead of passing the circle of reincarnation; and although xie lian becomes even more and more obsessive with you every time, even more dependent, feeling how his world becomes stable and correct while you are around, it hurts you to understand that you have nothing to give him.

you adore him, you are absolutely loyal to him and absolutely devoted, and you know how painful your lives are without him, and how you remember all your lives and his when you see his gentle soft figure, but maybe that's why you will never be equal to him.

because you are so full of love for him and his love for you that you will never be able to ascend until you feel everything that is meant for you.

hehehe~ panna cotta of culture, I see<3333

#[📂] — voice from under the bed #❖.my jewelry #✮.panna cotta <3 #🥮 — heaven official's blessing #✉.xie lian #🧸.drama #🧸.unhealthy

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