#i am motivated by spite alone

[urcrookedneighbor]

Fuck people who say we don't have the luxury of despair. Fuck people who say despair is a luxury.

#i know they have their reasons #I know we have to pick ourselves up and dust ourselves off and not give up #but don't tell me despair is a luxury #not everyone can hold on #not everyone can effectively repress their feelings #not everyone can compartmentalize #it was a horrible opinion by strictly legal terms alone #it was a horrible opinion by strictly moral terms alone #don't tell me being overwhelmed by despair isn't the right reaction to two men entirely dismissing the idea that women rely on Roe #it's ok to be filled with despair #Pauli Murray was a trans man who significantly advanced the legal arguments for Brown and Reed #Reed v. Reed is the case in which SCOTUS recognized protection of women under the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment #He also had breakdowns in his life #he was sometimes overwhelmed with despair #this is a marathon and sometimes you have to pass the baton #I understand that despair can have dire consequences #I understand that not everyone can allow themselves to feel the depths of their despair #I understand the danger of despair and inaction #but I am not motivated by spite #Despair is an emotion like any other #The goal is not to be overwhelmed by despair #but sometimes you don't choose the better coping skills #and sometimes you have to scream alone in your house and sob and read a man not even give you the decency of a good opinion #while he shatters and weakens the rights and gains and rule of law that the American compact is built on #and cites primarily to a water rights lawyer as his historical source

[toomuchracket]

if you're too shy, part 3 (office nerd!matty x reader smut/fluff)

oh nooooooooo, you and your hot sort-of boyf colleague are left alone in the office together, whatever are you to do? teehee! part 1 here, part 2 here. enjoy <3

matty looks so good right now.

the golden hour light streams through the office windows, totally illuminating him in a way that makes him look almost ethereal. leaning round the side of your laptop, you watch as he pulls his jumper over his head, messing up his curls endearingly and revealing those tattooed arms you've spent a lot of time in over the past two weeks, since that fateful night in camden; thinking back to a few nights ago, when one of those arms was tight around your waist and another was braced between your legs, diligently following your instructions, heat starts to pool in your lower stomach, travelling lower and lower until you're forced to clamp your thighs together just to stay sane.

your sigh echoes around the empty-aside-from-both-of-you office, the noise slightly louder than you'd intended. matty looks up, a sweet smile on his gorgeous face. “i know, darling,” he says softly. “just a little bit longer, yeah?”

the phrasing would be infuriating if you weren't totally sure he meant it in earnest. you nod, smiling back at him. “okay. you look amazing right now, by the way.”

“oh, stop it,” matty's cheeks redden quite beautifully. “come and sit with me, beautiful girl - need motivation to finish this conclusion.”

no need to ask you twice.

you put your laptop away and wander over, preening at the way matty looks at you with blatant desire. the lust in his eyes gives you an idea, sending another burst of heat to your core; once you snuggle onto matty's lap and give him a kiss, you speak. “so, you need motivation?”

“desperately,” he sighs, burying his head into your neck and lightly kissing the juncture of your jaw and throat. “i've only got a hundred or so words to go, but it's impossible. help me, angel, please?”

“alright, then,” you kiss his neck in return, smiling into the skin when he hums happily, and press little pecks up his cheek so you can whisper, sultry, in his ear. “as soon as you finish the article, i'll have sex with you.”

matty lets out a noise that can be best described as a squeak, turning to look at you, wide-eyed - if not for the obvious hardening in his trousers beneath you, you'd assume he was horrified. “are you serious? like, you mean,” he wildly gestures to the desk with his free hand. “we could do it here?”

“seems sturdy enough, yeah,” you quip, raking a hand through his hair. “you've never thought about bending me over the desk here? i have. a lot.”

“no, i, um, i've thought about that,” comes the sheepish reply. matty looks at you properly. “but don’t you want our first time to be, like, in a bed? somewhere comfier?”

bless him. you kiss him again. “honestly, matty, i'm less concerned about where than i am when. feel,” you take his free hand and slide it up your dress, across the seam of the lacy underwear you've all but soaked through; he swears quietly, looking down at you in wonder. “and that's only from thinking about you inside me.”

“christ,” matty groans into your neck. “well… wait, aren’t there cameras in here? won't we get caught?”

“none in range of the desks, just the - oh, fuck - just the corridors,” you reply as best you can while matty sucks a bruise into your skin, spurred on by the knowledge you can fuck without interruption. “but even if there were, i know how to localise the cameras and reset and edit the footage without anyone realising it's been changed.”

“i have literally never found you sexier.”

“you're an idiot,” you giggle, pulling matty in for a surprisingly sweet kiss - it soon gets dirty, though, as you move to properly grind down onto him and pull the neckline of your dress down. “how about now?”

in spite of the fact that he’s seen them a few times now, matty whines at the sight of your tits. like, actually whines. the noise goes straight to your panties, and you can feel matty get even harder as you grind deeper onto him to try and relieve your discomfort; he buries his face between your tits, moaning into the skin before trying to take one wholly into his mouth. he’s frantic, actually, hand coming up to clutch the other while his hips begin to jerk up into yours, syncopated and desperate.

oh, you’re going to have so much fun ruining him.

“matty, sweetheart,” you say, in a singsongy voice that morphs into a moan when his teeth scrape against the soft skin on the side of your tit. “fuck, matty, babe, don't get too excited just yet - you've got work to finish, yeah?”

“i'll do it later,” his reply is muffled by your chest.

you pull his hair sharply - not enough to be agonising, but enough to make him look up at you; he looks fucked, cheeks rosy and eyes wild, and you're obsessed with it. but still, you can't let him get away with not listening to you. “but that wasn't the deal, was it, angel?”

matty sighs. “no. m'sorry.”

“good boy,” you kiss his forehead, smiling into him as he whimpers in response to the praise, and readjust yourself so you're sitting on his lap rather than straddling it. when you snuggle into him, pulling your dress back up, he kisses the side of your head, and your heart flutters. “i'll still sit with you while you finish writing, though.”

“thanks, angel.”

your motivational idea seems to work - it only takes matty ten more minutes to finish the article, fingers flying across the keys and pretty lips mouthing the words as he types them. you love watching him work, always have; the intensity in his eyes is magnetic, and flitting your own between his face and lips and hands is only continuing to turn you on. you could have grinded on him again, worked yourself up to tease him, but no. you'll wait, and you'll get off together.

what a delicious thought.

“there. done,” matty hits ctrl-s and exhales, nuzzling into you. “was you proofing part of the deal, or…?”

“nah,” you kiss his head, turning it gently so you can kiss him properly. “i'll just look at it when we get home.”

he smiles dreamily, which is also how you feel about the thought of domesticity together. “i like the sound of that.”

“so do i,” you move to straddle him again, kissing him deeply and grinding down onto him even more so. “you know what else i like the sound of?”

“what’s that?”

you grin. “you fucking me.”

“shit,” matty kisses you hungrily, deeply, sloppily; a trail of spit connects your mouths even as he pulls away, manic. “how do you want me?”

“oh, in so many ways,” you aren’t lying. “but right now… i want to look at you, while you fuck me on this desk. how does that sound?”

he closes his eyes, gulping as he nods enthusiastically. fuck, he’s so pretty. “that- yeah, that sounds good. great! it sounds great. really.”

“yeah?” god, you’re such a bitch for teasing him.

he doesn’t notice, though. “yeah,” matty smiles shyly. “thank you, darling. i really like making you feel good.”

your heart flutters, and all you can do is pull him in by the collar of his shirt and crash your lips onto his. desire practically seeps out of you both, but it’s accompanied by something tender, affectionate - you’re not sure what, exactly, but you like it.

actually, you’re not really sure of anything at the moment, except how badly you need him. you tell matty as much, murmur it into his mouth like it’s gospel, and he practically faints. “alright, sweetheart, alright,” he shakily exhales into your mouth. “let me get you ready.”

before you can snarkily rip him for getting you ready when he’s all but on the edge of climax already, matty’s lifting you up, kissing you as he gently - goosebump-inducing gently - lays you on your back on the desk. the wood is cold against your skin, despite the heat, but it’s nice; what’s even nicer, though, is the way matty fumbles for his discarded jumper and lays it under your head. he looks at you carefully, big beautiful eyes travelling all over your face (surely blushing, looking up at him all gormless and lovesick) to determine how you’re feeling. “is this okay?”

you nod, slightly too overwhelmed to speak. shit. you’re supposed to be the one doing the flustering.

(secretly, you don’t mind the way he’s treating you. not one bit.)

“good,” matty beams. a split-second later, his cheeks are rosy again. “can i, um, can i… look at your boobs again, please?”

“if you unbutton your shirt, yeah - s’only fair, isn’t it?”

he obliges immediately, fingers shaky as he reveals his bare skin. your eyes follow the undoing of the buttons, core pulsing with every new tattoo or muscle group or section of happy trail revealed, and your own fingers work to slide the cap sleeves of your dress down your arms and push the neckline almost to your stomach. the sun-soaked room isn’t cold, but your nipples harden as soon as they're freed from fabric, out of nothing more than sheer arousal. 

matty moans when he looks at you, big hands immediately brushing over your chest so he can lean over and kiss you - as he does, you wrap your legs around him and do the best you can to grind onto the rock-hard bulge in his trousers. he whines into your mouth, sliding his hands back down your body to clutch at your hips and do some grinding of his own. one particular movement hits your clothed clit, and he groans into you in response to your whimper. “please, please can i fuck you now? need it, my girl, need you so fucking badly.”

“yes,” you whisper, just as desperately. lifting your hips slightly, you move matty's hands to rest on them on the fabric of your underwear. thankfully, he catches on quickly, and pulls them off you, laying them carefully on the chair; you would think the action was endearing if you could think about anything except the way the cool air hits your soaked cunt, reminds you how turned on you are. “come on, matty,” you spread yourself even further open for him, loving his expression of wanton desire. “need you inside me, sweet boy”.

“yeah,” without taking his eyes off you, matty undoes his trousers, pulling them and his boxers down slightly to free his dick. saliva pools in your mouth as you watch him pump it, memories of being both joyfully surprised at the sheer size of it and determined to take it all down your throat last week flooding back - they're completely overridden by the present, though, specifically matty holding himself with one hand and gliding the other down your slit. “jesus christ. can i, you know…?”

you smirk. “can you what? need you to use your words, be a good boy.”

his face goes scarlet. “can i…” he trails off again, breathing shakily.

“matty.”

“fuck, m'sorry, darling, m'sorry - just keep getting distracted by how gorgeous you are,” coming from anyone else, that line would make you scoff, but earnestness practically drips from matty's words. he smiles as you stroke his face, sighing. “right. can i- can i get inside you?”

for the briefest of seconds, you allow your controlled façade to drop, pleading just so he knows how much you want him. “please, angel. need you to fill me up.”

after leaning down for a soft kiss, matty does just that, slowly pushing into you to a soundtrack of quiet gasps from both your lips and his. you're thankful of the slow pace he moves at, probably to keep himself calm - he's so big that you're practically breathless from the time he's half-in, your body rearranging itself just to take him in the most deliciously painful way.

once he's bottomed out, matty stops moving completely, in favour of putting his hands over his face and breathing heavily. you blink, concerned, doing your best to sit up on your elbows without moving too much. “matty, sweetheart,” you coo. “are you alright?”

“mhmm,” comes the muffled response. he drags his hands down his face, smiling shyly at you when you become visible to each other. “just give me a second - s'been a minute since i did this.”

“of course. i like how this feels, anyway,” you reach up to stroke his face, beaming when he nuzzles into you. “and, if i'm honest, i'm kinda upset that you have actually done it before,” you giggle, only half-joking. “wish it was only me, and you were all mine.”

matty smiles. “well, that's kinda true - you're the only person i've ever done it with that's actually mattered.”

your heart flutters again. “sweet boy. how are you feeling?”

“good. i, um, i think i'm ready.”

music to your ears. “okay. fuck me, then, matty.”

“alright. thank you.”

the tenderness of the whispered reply makes you smile, cheeks almost sore from how wide you beam; as he pulls out and thrusts back into you, they widen in another direction, jaw dropping at the feeling. “shit, matty, just like that.”

“yeah?” matty repeats the motion, over and over and over, eyes rolling back in his head as you clench around them. his jaw is slack, curls beginning to stick to his forehead as he fucks you slowly, cheeks pink. you don't know if you've ever seen anything more beautiful - before you can tell him, though, he speaks. “is this good enough for you? what else do you need me to do?”

what a sweetheart he is.

“you're perfect, angel,” you stroke his smiling face, heart leaping when he turns to kiss your palm. “if you want to, you can speed up, yeah? do what makes you feel good. been so sweet of you to learn what i like, i wanna return the favour now.”

he nods, eyes closing as he takes your advice with a throaty groan. whether it's the noise or the faster pace he's fucking you at, you don't quite know, but you whine in response, sliding a hand into his hair and tugging. matty moans again, blinking dazedly at you. “i like that.”

“when it hurts a little bit?”

“mhmm.”

“alright,” you move your other hand under his shirt to clutch at his back, digging your nails lightly into the soft skin and dragging them downwards. “that?”

“fuck,” he whimpers, hips speeding up yet again. you gasp at the feeling, another gush of pleasure starting between your legs; in response, you clench, and matty swears again. “god, you're so wet.”

“all for you, matty,” you lean up to kiss him, a sloppy meeting of lips and tongues interspersed with moans; pulling back to breathe, you whisper into him. “tell me what else you like.”

he kisses you again, still pounding into you - somewhere deep in the recesses of your pleasure-addled brain, you thank all that's holy for the editors’ interior design decision to buy extremely sturdy desks and not have them against any walls. “i like you.”

“yeah?” you smile, moaning at a particularly good thrust. “you like - fuck - you like the way it feels inside me, inside this pretty pussy?”

“yeah.”

“i like it, too, feeling you inside me,” you kiss his neck, licking up over his jaw and kissing his cheek before whispering in his ear. “does it feel good, fucking my tight little cunt? never had anyone as big as you, sweetheart, fucking love it. you've got me fucking dripping.”

“feels so good, so fucking good,” comes the breathy reply. “perfect girl, perfect pussy. wanna - shit, oh my god - stay inside you forever.”

matty's hips are faltering ever so slightly, the rhythm dropping a sign that he's reaching the finish line. you decide to help him get there, gently sucking a mark into his neck and murmuring into the sweaty skin. “you can cum there, if you like.”

the whine he lets out is almost enough to make you cum. “is that alright with you?”

“of course,” you press a little kiss to his cheek. “want you to fill me up, angel. been such a good boy for me, you deserve it.”

“thank you,” matty leans round to kiss you properly. “please can i get you off, too?” wanna touch you, make you feel good.”

“you remember what i showed you?”

he nods, shifting weight onto one arm and waving his thumb at you. giggling, you take it into your mouth, flicking your tongue over the pad before releasing it with a pop and speaking. “fast, but not too firm, alright?”

“yeah,” watching you intently, matty leans back to look down intently between your legs, bringing his thumb to the juncture between them. it takes him a couple of swipes to find what he's looking for, but your body jerks so obviously when he touches your clit that it's obvious he's made his discovery. still fucking you a bit haphazardly - in a good way, mind you - he rubs tight little circles onto the bundle of nerves, just the way you like it. “that good for you, darling?”

the pleasure from the double stimulation is so overwhelming you can barely speak, clouding your brain and tightening both your vocal chords and your cunt; it's matty's whine at the latter that triggers a response from you, a matching wanton moan that by some miracle forms itself into a phrase. “yes, god, don't stop.”

“m‘kay,” matty's eyelids are drooping above you, but he smiles enthusiastically. “feel like i'm dreaming.”

“oh, my sweet boy,” you pull him down for a kiss, grinning against him at the whimper that escapes him when you bite his lower lip. “see? this is real.”

he giggles, gently kissing you in a way that's at total odds with how intensely he's fucking you. “i'm getting close, sweetheart. are you…?”

“yeah,” you aren't lying, either - pleasure is really starting to fizz up in your stomach, making your legs shake as they're wrapped around matty. “keep doing what you're doing, angel, keep being my good boy.”

the praise spurs matty on, keeps him fucking into you determinedly even as he crumbles completely above you. “oh, fuck,” he moans, skin slapping against yours as he chases release for both of you. his thumb stays circling your clit, bubbles of ecstasy rushing through your body every time he does - you're definitely getting close, pleasure building up to breaking point in your stomach more and more by the millisecond, and your heavy eyes and shaking body make that obvious to the perfect man above you. he kisses your nose. “you're close, too, aren't you?”

“mhmm,” you clutch him even tighter, desperate to keep him like this, keep him making you both feel good. “you gonna make me cum?”

“fuck, yes.”

and he does. how he staves off his own orgasm, you have no idea, but matty's dead-set on getting you off before he can; he fucks you through shaking legs, working your clit as well as if he'd been doing it for years and not days, forehead pressed to yours in such an intimate way that you could cry if you thought about it for too long. he looks fucked above you, but so fucking beautiful - when the pleasure inside you cracks and surges out into the rest of your body, sending wails of his name out of your lips, you're not quite sure if it's just because of the sex, or if there's another emotion or two behind it adding to how good you feel.

but you don't have time to dwell on that, though, before matty's whimpering about his own climax against your lips. “m'gonna cum, oh my god, shit, sweetheart, m'gonna cum, please, please let me cum.”

“good boy, my perfect boy,” you're still spacey after cumming yourself, but the hand still in matty's hair is tethering you somewhat. “cum for me, matty. fill me up.”

with perhaps the single sexiest noise you've ever heard, matty does just that, burying his head in the crook of your neck while he finishes, hot and deep, inside you. “oh, thank you,” he whispers into your skin, panting bodies still clinging together as you come down from your high. “jesus christ.”

“did you like that?”

matty laughs, leaning back to look at you. “that's an understatement, darling. it was perfect,” he strokes your sticky cheek, looking tenderly at you. “you're perfect.”

“back at you, sweet boy,” you kiss his nose, then his lips - a sweet kiss, nothing like the sloppy mid-sex makeouts you just had. “thank you for being so keen to make me feel good.”

matty shrugs, bashful. “i like that bit most of all.”

“oh, he’s cute!”

“i try,” he giggles. with a final kiss to your nose, he leans back. “am i alright to, like, pull out now?”

“of course,” you sit up on your elbows as he does, wincing at the sensation (and lowkey mourning the loss of him inside you). matty crouches to look at his cum dripping out of you, face so awestruck you can't help but giggle. “good view?”

he blushes, smiling shyly up at you. “the best,” carefully, he brings two fingers to your core, gathering up most of the white liquid and looking at it in wonder; his gaze then shifts to you, cheeky. “i mean, you're kinda clean now.”

you roll your eyes, but smile. “c'mere,” when he obliges, you take his fingers into your mouth, sucking the cum from them and swallowing with a satisfied hum. “look at that - both clean!”

“oh, that was underhanded,” matty kisses you deeply, tongue licking into your mouth before he pulls back. “but you're so beautiful that i'll let you get away with it.”

you swing your legs happily, pulling your dress back up over your chest. “thanks, angel.”

“m'serious, by the way,” matty reaches for the tissue box on the opposite desk and then your discarded underwear, crouching again to wipe you clean and slide the fabric up your legs. “most beautiful girl in the world.”

“your girl.”

he hums happily, cleaning himself off and tucking himself back into his boxers, leaning down to kiss you while he zips up his trousers. “mine, all mine. now, let me just,” he lifts you up and sets you on another desk, wiping the one you just vacated as best he can with a dry tissue. you bite your lip to keep from laughing at how endearing he is, and smile sweetly at him when he turns back around; that soon turns into a shriek when he scoops you up bridal-style. “right. let's go home.”

***

“are you sure i didn't leak onto the seat there?” you walk backwards up the hall towards your flat, looking at matty. “i was so panicked the whole drive.”

he rolls his eyes. “sweetheart, for the millionth time, there's no cum on the passenger seat. not that i'd have minded if you ruined my car like that, though. s'kinda hot.”

“you kinky little bitch,” you snort, unlocking the door and stepping inside; the scrambling of tiny paws across wooden floors becomes audible as soon as you do. “and speaking of little bitches…”

“don't call her that!”

“oh, stop it, i'm being literal - hi, maggie!” you crouch as your border collie puppy comes into view, bounding towards you excitedly - annoyingly, she passes you without so much as a lick hello, and goes straight to matty. “oh, for god's sake.”

he laughs, letting her lick all over his face before scooping her up like a baby and cooing at her. “maggie-moo! did you miss me? yeah, course you did. more than you missed your mum?”

“matthew.”

“sorry, darling,” he wanders over to kiss your head, kicking the door shut behind him. “i still can't believe you waited until we started dating to tell me you had the cutest puppy of all time. imperative information, that.”

“still pulled you without her, didn't i?” you quip, wandering down the hall to dump your and matty's bags on your bed, the two Ms in tow. “and you only think she's the cutest because she's sweet to you. she's a total terror, otherwise,” you pet maggie's little head. “i think she might've inherited that from me.”

matty giggles. “well, i'll take you both being sweet to me. yes, mags, i will!” he scratches her under the chin, and her little eyes close as she stretches; within seconds, she’s fast asleep, and he awws. “i'll put her down in the living room.”

“thank you, angel,” you kiss maggie's head, then matty's, and wander into your bedroom to get changed.

matty follows behind a minute later. “i can take her out later before we go to bed… oh my god, darling, i'm so sorry for bursting in on you like that,” he goes bright red when he sees you're only in your panties. “i can wait a second, let me just-”

you cut him off with a giggle, walking to him and kissing his nose. “you literally creampied me not even an hour ago, and you're flustered by walking in on me changing? god, you're so cute.”

“oh, shush,” matty hides his face in your hair, wrapping his arms around you. “i've forgotten what i was going to say now.”

“sorry, angel,” you stroke his hair. “while you think, do you want to have a shower with me? and then we can order some food?”

“really?” his voice is full of wonder. “yeah, i’d like that. thank you.”

your heart glows. you take his hand and lead him next door to the bathroom, turning the shower on and adjusting the temperature as you speak. “no need to thank me, matty. just doing my girlfriend duties, you know.”

there’s silence for a second. then you realise what you said, and panic sets in - your blood runs ice-cold, and you turn to an undressing matty with a horrified gasp. “i am so sorry, matty, i don’t know why i-”

“darling, it’s alright,” matty steps out of his trousers and kisses your head. “i’d quite like to refer to you with that title too, if i'm honest. and, you know,” he rubs the back of his neck nervously. “if you want to call me your boyfriend… i'd be very honoured.”

he's so adorable that you have to genuinely hold back a scream. so you merely beam at him, and kiss his hand. “follow me. we can start your designated boyfriend role of washing my back for me right now.”

in complete contrast to the desperate, fast-paced sex of earlier, your first shower with your boyfriend (!!) is languid, romantic, saccharine-sweet. well, there are several deep kisses, and both yours and matty's hands do linger on parts of each other's bodies that may be considered impolite by some, but there's no real lust behind it - none more so than usual, that is - just a curiosity, a fascination, and a want to hold each other as tight as possible. that easy comfort around each other lingers the whole night, through ordering and eating pizza, curled up on the sofa watching the young ones while maggie does her utmost to get the discarded crusts for herself; through sharing a cigarette in the communal garden while the puppy does her business and runs around to tire herself out; through brushing your hair at the vanity in your bedroom before you go to sleep, matty sprawled on the bed and watching you with adoring interest while maggie sleeps on her bed under the window.

while you're putting your hair into its bedtime braids, he wanders over to the record player in your room, looking at the empty sleeve on the table next to it before lifting the lid and peering at the disc. “melodrama? i haven't heard this in ages.”

you turn in your chair, smiling. “but you know it?”

“of course.”

“good,” you walk to matty, kissing the back of his neck. “it's maybe possibly my favourite album of all time.”

“really?” he turns in your hold, resting his elbows on your shoulders. “tell me about it.”

“okay. better get comfy,” you tug him to your bed, climbing in and flicking the bedside lamp off; your boyfriend climbs in too, face illuminated by the faint moonlight peeking through the thin curtains. “you know that it's set over the course of one night, right? at a house party?”

“is it?” even in the low light, you can see matty's brow furrow. “but it's so… far-reaching, i would say, emotionally.”

“yeah, it is, the house party is just a narrative framework to focalise it, i s'pose,” you yawn. “and i don't know if she’s ever confirmed it, but i think all the fadeouts on the album have a purpose - they all seem like they're a means of marking the end of a step in the relationship cycle she's singing about. like, the one at the end of the louvre is the end of the ‘rush at the beginning’ she sings about, because then the album goes into liability and hard feelings/loveless, so the heartbreak section, and there's a fade out at the end of loveless, too. you get me?”

“i get you, darling,” the smile in his voice is audible.

“cool. all in all, there are five stages to the cycle, and it repeats between green light and sober; so, the first song on the album is chronologically last in breakup terms,” you rub your eyes. “which is kinda genius, because then the house party framework is really clear. like, you start the night by going out, but you also end your healing journey by doing the same thing, getting back out there and all that. it's so amazing. and the songs are all good,” a beat passes, then you giggle. “sorry for just rambling on about melodrama right before we go to sleep, sweetheart.”

“nah, i loved it. makes a nice change to be the one listening, for once,” matty laughs breathily, stroking stray hairs from your face. “i like listening to you talk like that - like it when you do anything, really.”

“back at you,” you lean in to kiss him softly, sliding your arms around him. “i'm really happy you're my boyfriend, by the way.”

“so am i, darling,” matty yawns, nuzzling his head into your chest. “shall we get some sleep?”

“sounds good. what are our plans for tomorrow?”

“oh, yeah, that's what i forgot i was gonna say earlier,” he tilts his head to look at you, eyes heavy with sleep. “we could maybe take maggie for a walk at the park near my house, if you like, and i could make us some dinner afterwards.”

“will you make me soup?”

matty laughs, kissing your bare skin. “of course i will. whatever you want.”

“alright,” you smile, going back in for yet another kiss. “it's a date. goodnight, angel.”

“night, sweetheart. see you in my dreams.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #office nerd au #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty x reader #matty healy smut

[calliesmemes]

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“   Partner, I reckon that I ain’t been feeling very yeehaw lately. ”

“   I don’t study; I consult the lore. ”

“   Yeah, I understand women — they all want daggers and swords. It’s all quite simple, really. ”

“   Lord forgive me but I may have to make a nonessential purchase. ”

“   Those are bold words for someone in stabbing range. ”

“   Yes I’m a gatekeeper and a hater. I’m also God’s most favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. ”

“   My primary motivations are fear, spite, and aesthetic longing. ”

“   Man — if I had a sword, I wouldn’t be worried about shit. ”

“   It’s not blood that runs through these veins but glitter gel pen ink. ”

“   If I was in a Jane Austen novel, I would be the one sent to the seaside for my health. ”

“   Half of me is a hopeless romantic, and the other half of me is … well … an asshole. ”

“   I am the nicest, sweetest, most rage-filled person I know. ”

“   I hope I give off the vibe to all animals that I am their ally and their friend. ”

“   I see you’re paying attention to someone who is not me. Why is that? ”

“   Normalize letting me talk without making any sense. ”

“   Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus my psychic visions have predicted the outcome of this encounter. ”

“   I could be so much worse. For example, I could start acting like my father. ”

“   Sorry for acting so strange and irregular; It will happen again. ”

“   i love sitting in my room.....alone....a girl in her cave....scheming and plotting and drinking tea. ”

“   These man made horrors are beyond YOUR comprehension. I get it though. ”

“   I’m a goth girl on the inside. On the outside? A father figure. ”

“   I don’t need to face reality; I’m not just that type of girl. ”

“   DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A frickle-frackle? ”

“   I’m about to cha cha real smooth off a fucking cliff. ”

“   Sorry I told you about my trauma. Do you still think I’m hot? ”

“   My priorities aren’t straight and neither am I. ”

“   I have felt permanently guilty for no reason since I was like eight years old. ”

“   Of course I have a lot of pent up rage, you fool! I’ve been the same height since I was twelve years old! ”

“   I was born for shock value. ”

“   Good morning! God has let me live another day and I’m about to make it everyone’s problem. ”

“   Oh, I slept miserably because I was tormented by terrible visions all night. I hope none of them were prophetic! ”

“   Be the surreal nonsense that you want to see in the world. ”

“   Being smart has never stopped me from being a complete fucking idiot. ”

“   My hobbies include knowing things and being right. ”

“   This is good advice, but don’t tell me what to do. ”

“   I hate the idea of authority. What the fuck is someone being superior to me? Bitch I’m gonna take your kneecaps. ”

“   Stop forgiving my crimes! I worked so hard on those! ”

“   My hobbies? Uhhhh, symbolism mostly. Metaphors and implications and the like. ”

“   I may not have any braincells, but I make up for it by having many heart cells. ”

“   I can’t mansplain manipulate manwhore my way out of this one guys! ”

“   Not all your life decisions have to be smart. Some can be purely for cinematic value. ”

“   Sometimes I wish I looked more fragile and feminine like a dainty flower, but I do enjoy looking like I hate everyone. ”

“   Any dream can be a prophetic dream if you’re willing to do some really weird shit. ”

“   girl help there is not enough enrichment in my enclosure. ”

“   BRO, you NEED to stop SUMMONING DEMONS in the FRAT HOUSE. ”

“   I just gave your address to some spiders! ”

“   I disappoint my father as a hobby now. ”

“   I think that the dark circles under my eyes add to my aesthetic actually. ”

“   Good news! I’ve successfully replaced all of my emotions with jokes! ”

“   I have half a braincell left and I’m very scared to use it! ”

“   Listen, son — in this world, it’s either yeet or be yeeted. ”

“   I appreciate the advice, but I think that I’m old enough to make my own bad decisions. ”

“   I’m disappointed in me too. Y’all aren’t special. ”

“   Running from your demons is the best exercise! ”

“   Sorry; I can’t commit any crimes with you. My mom says that I have to study. ”

“   Time flies when you don’t know what the fuck is going on. ”

“   If I run out of tacos, I can no longer maintain my human form. ”

“   Bestie, I don’t think that I can girlboss under these conditions. ”

“   Yeah I’ve had combat training; I can do anxiety attacks! ”

“   Swag is earned, not learned. ”

“   Contrary to popular belief, violence solves a lot. ”

“   I CANNOT STAND YOU ALL so I will SIT DOWN. ”

“   Please God no … I don’t need any more character development right now! ”

“   If you can’t beat ‘em, yeet ‘em. ”

“   Do not put me in a situation. I’m at my limit and I am very tired. ”

“   I may be depressed, but at least I’m not basic. ”

“   It’s MY LIFE and I’ll sabotage it myself, thank you. ”

“   Think twice? Bold of you to assume that I think once. ”

“   At the next inconvenience, I will start biting people. ”

“   Oops I think that I just experienced an emotion. ”

“   Did you know that rats spelled backwards is star? ”

“   One day, I’ll be reincarnated as a pigeon, and I’ll shit on your head. ”

“   On the outside, I’m a baddie — but on the inside, I’m a saddie. ”

“   My grandma bullies me through the Ouija board. ”

“   I’m a cool person if you can just look past my personality. ”

“   Beetles don’t have to do taxes, and I think that is a beautiful way to live. ”

“   I hope that you get your character development arc soon. ”

“   Those are some nice kneecaps … It’d be a shame if someone stole them … ”

“   I’ve wanted to be a trophy wife ever since I was a little boy. ”

“   I’m done being baby; I want POWER ”

“   Wait, “Just Standing There Ominously” doesn’t count as socializing? ”

“   Yes I am smart, and yes, I am stupid. It’s called being flexible. ”

“   I am NOT delusional!!!!! I am OPTIMISTIC! ”

“   I deserve compensation for not being the menace to society that i could be, like i'm skipping out on a lot of fun here. ”

“   Do not ask me if you should or shouldn't do something !!! Before I am a friend I am an enabler !!! ”

“   i am the WORLDS PRETTYIST PINK PRINCESS and im gonna KILL YOU WITH MY HUGE FUCKING HAMMER ”

#askbox meme #askbox prompt #rp ask meme #ask box #roleplay sentence meme #sentence starters #roleplay prompts #roleplay sentence starters #* sentence meme #rpc help

[moonshynecybin]

I know Marc is incredibly competitive just on his factory settings alone, but do you think vale saying he helped Jorge win because it would mean it was "easier to equal vale’s amount of championships" motivated him?

Idk I think after I had processed something like that I would think: I am going to win 10 come hell or high water.

you are correct! i agree i think he is so fucking baseline crazy he'd want to win no matter what. like valentino was right that marc wants to equal/surpass him i just dont think he was helping jorge in 2015 dajfkajh

but yeah. like i think because hes already so wrong in the head vis a vis winning we tend to ignore that marc DOES have a the sexiest quality a professional athlete at the top of their sport can have: the ability to convert hater energy into wins. injecting spite into his veins and stunting on them. blowing kisses to the stands in mugello level diva moments. like in sepang the reason he got kicked off of his bike (besides vale's category 5 ego crisis meltdown) was because he decided to be ANNOYING and ruin vale's day and race him 100% the entire way after that goddamn press conference :) like last season when pecco was pissed off bc he thought marc was getting a tow from him and marc wasnt! until he saw pecco was mad and then he followed him. and gave him a cunty little thumbs up. like he exclusively chooses people who are pissed off by it. often academy riders. because he thinks its funny. which i love <3 so yeah i'd say its extra motivation!

#callie speaks #motogp #asks #like he already wanted that many titles even when they were friends like he was so excited to beat him!! #but haterism is akin to gatorade to the marc marquez system.

[museofthepyre]

Did a fun Q&A thing on insta about my ocs, here are the highlights, lore and shit! For context I am writing this into a horror-ish book as we speak. Brewing my dastardly schemes (gay tragedy).

Q: Is Eden also a cannibal?

A: Eden isn't a cannibal in the way Harlow is. I mean he eats people but only because Harlow's cooking is too good to turn down /hj. Eden's thing is... kinda the opposite.

He's slowly being consumed by the rot that's festering within him, a manifestation of hatred and shame. To him love is consumption, and he is inedible. Insert vulture metaphor here w Harlow. For every rotting corpse there is a very greatful vulture who will look past the decay, and see your worth. Eden is ultimately finished off by something that loves him, a consumptive love, unconditional and indiscriminate.

Q: ABOUT THE ROT, HOW DOES IT WORK? HOW IS IT AFFECTING HIM??

A: This rot is really the only story element that isn't totally grounded in reality. It's an illness that's a manifestation of his self hatred/ repression/ internalized shame- not an actual condition.

It appears at first like it just affects his chest- but it’s been slowly burrowing deep into his body. Its spreading like roots/ mycillium through his flesh and will finish him off in one foul swoop once it's finished spreading.

In the meantime, it manifests like a chronic illness- his muscles are all atrophied and he feels constantly drained of life. It's taking small pieces of flesh to sustain itself while it spreads (the chest cavity is the result of that-though the REAL damage is invisible. It's the ticking time bomb roots beneath the seemingly unaffected surface). It functions like a slow acting Chronic Wasting Disease (aka zombie deer disease, humans can't get it in reality, but it was the inspiration)

Q: What happened when Harlow discovered Eden was a guy

A: Eden is trans, and closeted in his life. Harlow is the first person he ever discusses his truth with.

At first, Harlow was just kinda... confused? Transness is not a concept he was familiar with. At ALL. The idea alone was completely unheard of to him. Again this is the Bible Belt in the 8os, the area so rarely encountered visible transness- trans people existed of course, but so many stayed hidden to survive. The roaring tre of bigotry did not have much tuel in that regard... no trans people to propagandize against. It was not on the public's vitriolic radar. In that way, Harlow hadn't developed the knee-jerk reaction of hatred... he was more fascinated than anything, but it did challenge him to understand at first.

Unlike his journey with accepting homosexuality this was not so much a task of unlearning as it was just... learning.

Also Eden's whole rotting thing adds another layer to this Harlow is stupid and takes everything VERY literally- he thought Eden's condition must be divinely brought.

Harlow saw a gift from God, a rare flower planted in inhospitable soil, wilting before it ever got the chance to bloom. Like the angels sent to Sodom and Gamorrah in human disguises, to test the townspeople's virtue. To present them with something foreign yet beautiful, to judge their inherent goodness based on how they treat it. Like in the biblical story, the townspeople were so vile and inhospitable that it endangered the angels and forced them to leave, burning down the town behind them. Harlow saw this as prophecy. He was eager to get to the “burning down the town” part.

Part of my motivation for incorporating that specific biblical story is SPITE btw since so many people use it to justify homophobia. Reverse uno idiots. I'm putting you in my GAY BOOK as a metaphor for hateful queerphobic societies.HA!

Q: Describe the rot in Eden's chest in sensory detail (texture smell “cause" etc) I want rot details!!

A: I used CWD and necrotizing fasciitis as building blocks for this thing... starts in the brain, spreads like roots through the body, eating away at muscle and skin as it does. Once it's fully spread, it'd rapidly worsten and bring death within a matter of hours.

In the meantime it sustains itself off of non-fatal bits of flesh (his chest here, since it's a manifestation of self hatred and all, and dysphoria is a bitch). It is an open wound so it'd feel scabby and it is perpetually weeping... which is how Harlow finds out about it so quickly (seeps through white nightgown after being left unbandaged for a few nights). He would also have to take care to hide the smell of decay

It advances throughout the story and by the end there's barely any soft tissue left on his chest, nothing alive anyways. The final overtake begins, and his organs enter the early stages of consumption (which happens very rapidly in one foul swoop). That's when they decide it's time for boy dinner!

Q: How smart are they

A: GREAT QUESTION! HARLOW IS FUCKING STUPID. LIKE not only does he lack emotional intelligence entirely, but he's also very impulsive and reckless. The ONLY reason he's getting away with his murders is because the society around him has shot itself in the foot with its homophobia. Noooobody is suspicious of him for the string of missing attractive dudes. They're looking for a "vengeful woman" profile, or possibly a "debt collector with many social connections" or something. Not some solitary redneck who barely shows his face in town and is very polite and quiet when he does. He appears, in all respects, like a normal guy in public.

Once they have mutual blackmail (and also start caring about each other)... Eden realizes that if Harlow gets caught, he's fucked too. So partially for the sake of self-preservation, and... partially out of pity for this stupid stupid man... Eden starts to help him cover up.

Harlow is pretty disillusioned as to how society functions as a whole, since he grew up pretty far from it. Eden is the opposite, he was suffocated by it and learned how to be sneaky as a result. Eden is very good at getting people to trust him, he's good at lying, he's good at acting. Thing is, he's overly trusting to his own detriment. He's desperate for genuine connection and easily deceived himself. He's bad at reading people.

Q: What happened to Harlow's mom?

A: Harlow's mother died due to complications during childbirth. He never had a maternal figure in his life, he was raised as an only child by his father, who had become calloused and would never remarry. Harlow dropped out of high school and kept to himself at his house/ in nature after that very isolated from society. Considering all this... he not only lacked a maternal figure, but any female influence... at all. Which manifested as this warped and idolized understanding of women as a whole

He thought of women in a very high and almost mystified regard- like how a child would imagine a mythical creature. One massive blank filled in by a clueless imagination. He respected them greatly, he feared them like gods, and he felt a need to repent to them as such. He never properly processed the guilt he felt over his mothers death-largely thanks to his father's handling of it. This guilt left him feeling indebted, like he owed the world for what he “took", like if he ever so much as inconvenienced another woman it would be an irredeemable sin.

This all sounds like it comes from a good place, but it's really all just deluded naivety this is not a positive trait of Harlow's. It contributed a lot to his toxic masculinity, the pressure he put on himself to "be a man", etc.

He's not a white knight, he's a cowardly dog.

This is why he didn't just kill Eden on the spot after being caught, he needed to make sure...)

MORE TO COME IM SURE I LOVE GETTING QUESTIONS ABOUT THESE FREAKS IF ANYONE HERE HAS ANY

#Rot of the Eucharist #my ocs #ocs #original characters #original writing #horror writing #horror author #queer author #queer fiction #long post

[eternalglitch]

First I have to say that I love lfls! It is such a good fanfic that I have read it now 4 times! It is one of the few fanfics I do read.

I myself have my own ideas of fanfics and original works, but I just never seem to want to write them. I keep double guessing and hating all my moves and what I write that I just erase all the work I did. Other times I have all this free time, but I just avoid writing, yet I am constantly thinking about my ideas I want to write and show others.

Do you like have any help with this? I always get upset at myself when I see others making great things, yet I am over here with nothing because I am too scared or lazy?

Sorry, I just really want to improve better with this and I thought maybe you would know ways to help since you are really good at writing and drawing!

Most writers go through this, honestly. Currently I'm in a patch right now. You aren't alone in that feeling, but rather than let that consume you, try and put that into proving yourself wrong! Spite can be a great motivator.

The unfortunate answer is that you are going to have to sit yourself down and just write through it. It sucks, it's hard, it's not fun. You don't have any momentum and each sentence feels bland and wrong. Getting started writing is like trying to get a very large bolder down a hill, but unfortunately it is wedged onto a flat ledge and you have to put in the work to get it rolling.

But as you keep writing, and keep forming this habit, you gain natural momentum to keep going. Then it'll usually all start clicking into place and be enjoyable.

Next time you have free time, set a timer for ten minutes. You can't do anything but write for that time. You cannot delete more than a few words. The next day, do it again. Expand it to a goal of 500 words per session when you are ready. And then look back at everything you have written- good or not- and keep on going.

OR, for the more adventurous and bold that want to kick start it faster, have you heard of NaNoWriMo? It starts in 6 days and I find the tracking tools and community extremely helpful if you have the time for it.

#glitch answers #writing advice

[pacifymebby]

Ultraviolence // Billy x Stu x Reader

Chapter 2 // Gloomy Girl

"Who's scaring her now? Fuckrag..."

Stu threw a tea towel at his friend as Billy gave in and put you down. It was strange how carefully he had let you go, placing you back down on the floor gently, his hands lingering on your shoulders to steady you.

When he placed you there backing away slowly, hands raised to surrender, placing the kitchen knife down slowly too, you felt that childish kind of upset. The kind that made you want to lie about your fear just to spite him.

"It's alright angelface Billy was only messing around weren't you, shithead?"

"Yeah, shit I'm sorry doll that was too far... I just wanted to show you what you're up against..." said Billy, hand behind his neck, eyes glowing gloomy and guilty.

"Yeah babe, Billy just wants you to be prepared..." cooed Stu, rubbing your arms slow and affectionately, he could feel your shaking and he actually did feel guilty as he rested his chin on top of your head and held you reassuringly.

You weren't on their list, they had no intention of really hurting you. And Billy shouldn't have tried to scare you like that... His temper had gotten the best of him, Stu could see that from the look in Billys eyes. Billy was just angry that you didn't value your life, and that was a difficult anger for him to handle.

"Prepared for what? I'm not exactly Slasher victim material..." you looked away dismissing them again, determined to pretend that nothing they did bothered you. You weren't going to let two stupid teenage boys scare you.

"No?" grinned Stu, his eyes lighting up as curiosity got the better of him, he had a feeling he knew what that meant. "Pretty girl... Almost always home alone... She's kind of quiet but she's got that moody, bad girl attitude so, she doesn't have many friends... If Michael Myers was stalking you sweetheart he'd Know he could get away with it..."

"I'm not a horror movie victim waiting to happen shut up Stu..." you rolled your eyes trying to shrug him away from you, "Look, I'm not dumb alright, there's always a motive when it comes to this shit and I didn't even know Casey and Steve... Why would the same person who killed prom king and queen in the making, want to kill me?"

"Doesn't have to be a motive..." shrugged Billy, "there isn't always a motive honey..."

"Yeah babygirl there isnt always a motive, sometimes people just get a thirst for killing... One day they just snap," he grinned pointing his fingers to his head like a gun, his eyes going wide and crazy, his smile never faltering, "they get the bloodlust and then... Well they just choose the prettiest victims..."

"Well," you said, looking at him unimpressed and straight lipped, "if thats the case they'll get through the cheerleading squad before they get to me won't they," you sneered, narrowing your eyes at him, running out of patience for them. "Besides... Even if i am i don't see how its your business."

If Billy hadn't scared you, you wouldn't have said it. You didnt go out of your way to be the moody, bitchy kind of girl, and you had the feeling Billy and Stu weren't the kind of people who would put up with that either. This was just another act of defensive spite.

"Well of course its Our Business" cried Stu, he was still grinning, letting out a disbelieving laugh but Billy was frowning again, he'd gone quiet, hands clasped together on the counter. It was almost exactly as you'd expected from him. Enough that ut made you smirk a little, until Stu finished his sentence and knocked your confidence.

"We're your friends y/n obviously its our business..."

Were they?

"Obviously..." you said, expressionless again, your tone too dry for Billys liking, his temper flaring so that he found himself struggling to swallow it down.

"Obviously." he said through gritted teeth, looking up at you from under his lashes, that brooding look returned and flourishing so that you felt yourself squirming under it.

"Is it," you said swallowing your nerves, eyeing the kife as if you suspected he'd do it again, "cause you guys just started following me around one day and you never exactly told me why... I hardly even know you,"

Now you looked as sullen and brooding as Billy, accidentally showing them a weakness, accidentally letting them know you were as insecure as you looked sometimes when you walked with your hands in your pockets and refused to look anyone in the eye.

"We prefer the phrase 'spending time with you' actually," said Stu, hand on heart pretending to be more offended than he was.

"And we've tried to get to know you," said Billy, watching how your eyes flickered between the kife and him. "You're just not letting us..." he stepped closer to you then, you could tell he was being careful not to startle you.

"But now we know how you'd fare in a horror movie, so, that's something..." Stu said smiling as he walked his fingers down your arm and took the jagged broken glass from your hands.

"Smashing your glass, good choice kiddo," Billy split a sideways smile.

"Shows she's got a strong Gut instinct!" giggled Stu almost choking on his own laugh as he sniggered triumphantly.

But Billy wasn't laughing, his eyes still dark as he patted you on the cheek, "smart cookie."

You just stood there glaring back at him, not appreciating the patronising gesture.

"Yeah for a little squirt you sure are feisty," stu wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, giving you a little squeeze before letting you go.

"Alright doll we gotta shoot," said Billy then, a glance at the clock reminding him that he had other places to be.

"Yeah see you round baby girl," Stu said running his fingers through your hair before throwing an arm around Billy.

"Call me that again and I'll gut you..." you said without thinking, the words leaving your lips too quickly for you to register what youd actually said.

When you did realise it was too late, they were grinning, Stu struggling to hold in his amusement, Billy just watching you, a smirk on his lips as he shook his head.

"Lock your door y/n" he said as he left, Stu following close behind him, "and no open windows."

"Yeah, you're good but you're no Jamie Lee..."

"Bye," you said giving them nothing, no promise to lock your door, no laugh for Stu's insensitive little joke as you shut the door in their faces.

It wasn't that the idea of a murderous creep didn't scare you, it would have done if you'd believed for a second that anyone was out to get you... It was just that.

No one was out to get you. You were pretty sure that billy and stu were the only people from school who had ever noticed your existence. You were pretty sure that unless it was them, the killer didn't even know your name. Let alone where you lived.

So you went to sleep that evening peaceful as a cloud, and when you woke up the next morning you remained just that. You didn’t feel like going to school and you weren’t sure there was much point either. The whole school would be talking about Casey and Steve and as fascinating as the details were, you weren't sure how many times you could watch some thickskulled boy use them to try and scare a girl into scooting closer to him for comfort. It was a pretty strange way of flirting as far as you were concerned, and these murders had only made it a more popular method. 

So you didn’t go into school, instead you slipped into the first set of clean clothes you could find, blue jeans which hung off your hips, some horror move themed crop top and the first button down shirt you saw as you wandered downstairs into your kitchen. You opened the fridge, yawning into your hand as you scanned the contents and smirked when you remembered Stu’s complaints the evening before. He was right, there was pretty much nothing in your fridge, nothing you could really eat anyway. But that was because it was pretty much always just you in your house.

Your mother didn't just work away sometimes, she practically went out of her way to do so. Her office was in the city and so more often than not she'd stay in hotels throughout the week, only returning at weekends. Sometimes she didn't return at weekends, citing "overtime" as an excuse.

You didnt blame her though, how coukd you. She had the choice between coming home and wallowing in the reminders of everything she'd lost by putting her faith in the wrong man, or staying in the city, living as close to a young, single woman lifestyle as she could. Sometimes in life you have to be selfish, that was something she'd taught you from a young age. It would have been hypocritical for her to be the martry in this case.

You yawned again, resting your head against the fridge grabbing some milk for your cereal and wandering to the cupboard to get a bowl.

You had every intention of having a slow, sleepy little day, padding around the house in a pair of thick socks, watching horror movies from under a blanket in the living room.

The day drifted by, you half heartedly watching a handful of videos you'd rented on Monday and already seen before.

It was warm beneath your blanket and the house was quiet, exactly as you liked it. It was definitely better than a day in class, drifting from math to lit to lunch, your whole day soundtracked by everyones musings on the recent drama.

Unfortunately for you however you hadn't counted on the fact that although your peers might not have noticed your absence your teachers would have, the principle would have, and more crucially than that, the cops who were interviewing every student at the school would have.

So when a knock sounded on your front door at 2pm you arose from your half asleep state, left the movie you'd been drifting in and out of to play, and wandered absentmindedly to the door.

You weren't expecting anyone but it didn't occur to you that if that was the case, it was curious for someone to be knocking on your door in the middle of the day.

Thats why you appeared startled when you came face to face with Deputy Riley and Sheriff Burke.

You blinked back at them, your eyes struggling to adjust to the light having been sitting in the dark all day.

"Good afternoon Miss l/n," started the Sheriff, his eyes scanning over you. For a moment you thought you saw suspicion in his eyes and wondered why. Of course the moment he spoke you realised...

You were supposed to be in school.

"We were scheduled to interview you today at your school and when you didn't show for registration this morning well... What with recent events, people got worried..."

"Oh," you chewed your cheek, voice quiet, a little scratchy from having not spoken to anyone all day. "I guess i forgot to call," you winced, rubbing your eyes and doing your best to appear unwell, "I'm sick Sheriff," you said, knowing that thanks to your having spent half the day napping you probably did look a little unwell.

"Sick?" he raised his brow eyes scanning over you once more, "well," he said, wincing as he spoke, "i suppose 'sick' isn't the worst state to have found you in y/n... Mind if we come in and we'll try to keep this interview brief?" he asked already moving to step inside as you faltered, tripping over your sock as you tried to move out of his way.

"Woah there y/n, be careful," chuckled Dewy, catching you awkwardly as he too stepped inside your home.

You smiled shyly at him in thanks and did your best to tread more carefully as you followed them both into the kitchen.

As they past the living room door you saw the Sheriff pause, his eyes fixed on the television which was still playing Prom night. You winced when you realised it was reaching the films climax. The killer chasing Wendy down the corridors of the school, axe in hand ready to strike.

"You like those scary movies do you y/n?" he asked.

"Some of them yeah," you said, "sometimes anyway... I'm only watching this now because I rented it from the store last week and its the only thing i have to watch." you tried not to smile so nervously but having both him and Deputy Riley watching you was making you nervous.

"Unfortunate timing," said the Sheriff, his voice giving nothing away.

"I guess... The movies not real though... What happened to Casey and Steve is..." you said trailing off, looking at them both with watery eyes. You weren't as upset as you were making out, you just needed to make sure they believed you were as scared and upset as you would expect a teenage girl to be.

"Is that why you stayed home sick today y/n?" asked Dewy, a waver of sympathy in his eyes.

"Theres safety in numbers you know y/n youd have been better coming into school instead of staying home alone..."

"No," you said quickly, "i really am sick, I locked all my doors and windows to keep any intruders out..." you said remembering what Billy had told you the night before, hoping it was the right thing to tell the Sheriff. "You're interviewing everyone from school? Does that mean you think... A student did it?" you asked chewing your cheek nervously, looking up at the two officer who glanced at eachother before Dewy answered.

"We just want to make sure we speak to everybody kid, the more people we talk to the more we can find out..."

"Oh," you said softly, nodding your head, your thumb hovering in front of your lips as you fought the urge to bite on it.

Instead you began playing with your hair, eyes fixed on the counter.

"So y/n, anything you can tell me at all would be very helpful... How well did you know Casey and Steve?"

"I... I didn't really know them at all... They're... Were? In the grade above me but um, i guess i know steve was on the football team?" you said, no longer having to worry about how well you could lie, because this wasn't a lie. Everything you'd learnt about Casey Becker and Steve Ore was through eavesdropping on other peoples conversations, "oh and i guess i know they were dating,"

"But you never spoke to either of them, didn't know them.."

"No," you said again, biting the tip of your little finger. In your head you heard the echo of Billys voice telling you not to do things like that.

"Makes you look nervous,"

You knew he was right, it did make you look nervous. It was a nervous habit afterall.

"Did you ever hear anyone talk about them? I know how you kids gossip, ever hear anyone mention anything about Casey or Steve?"

"No," you shrugged thinking back on all the times you'd heard people call Casey a slut or joke about Steve's penis size. Obviously you'd heard rumours about them, about the getting hot and heavy beneath the bleachers ect.. But none of it seemed relevent to the Sheriffs investigation so you didn't say a word.

"Alright," he hummed, pausing for a moment, looking you up and down again so that you were left squirming beneath his gaze. "Alright sweetheart, one last thing before we go, your dad ever take you hunting?"

You bit your lip, biting back the sting. He didn't even seem to notice what he'd said until there were wounded tears in your eyes.

"I don't have a dad Sheriff Burke," you said through gritted teeth, trying to hide the way his words had hurt you. Because they shouldn't have hurt you as much as they did, but when your mom was away and you'd been left alone for a week already, you couldn't help but feel like the Sheriff was rubbing salt in an already open wound.

"Shit," you heard him breath as realisation hit him, "I'm sorry y/n, i didn't think, I really am sorry," he said, the sympathy in his eyes only making you feel worse.

Dewy offered you a sympathetic smile, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze as they went to leave. You had returned to that sullen glazed expression, one which left both men feeling guilty.

"Feel better soon y/n... And remember, safety in numbers, you don't spend too much time here on your own got it?"

"Uhuh Sheriff Burke, I'll do my best," you said closing the door behind them and returning to the lounge where your movie had finished playing, the crackling fuzz of the static grating on you as the speakers buzzed with white noise.

You winced turning the volume down, hitting rewing and watching the image scramble and reverse. You watched Alex come back to life, saw a girls slit throat fused back together by a man in a sparkling balaclava.

When you were finally back to the beginning of the movie you hit play, wandering back out into the kitchen humming to yourself as you debated what to make for your dinner.

You stopped humming however when you heard a noise upstairs. Your ears burned with the sound... Like something landing on the floor... It hadn't been particularly loud, so it hadn't been something falling over. No, it had to have been a controlled landing. Something you weren't supposed to hear.

You moved slowly, trying to stay quiet yourself. Reaching for the smallest kitchen knife, slipping it up your sleeve just in case.

You stepped away from the counter and walked slowly towards the kitchen doorway, your ears listening carefully for any movement upstairs.

In the living room Prom Night was playing, you could hear the twang of conversation through the speakers. It wasn't loud enough to drown out the sound of feet on the stairs however and when you looked up from where you were stood, body pressed against the doorframe, you saw a pair of black boots on the stairs.

You let out a little sigh, relieved but also a little fed up.

"I'd have answered my front door Billy," you said walking into the hallway, arms folded across your chest, trying not to show how much you enjoyed seeing his brows knit in confusion.

"You heard me?" he smirked, his grin that crooked one which had always warmed you to him, but then his eyes turned serious and his voice dropped, "saw a cop car outside y/n, you had me thinking the worst..."

"Yeah i heard you," you said slipping the knife from up your sleeve, "funny," you mused with a little smirk, "i thought you were coming to kill me..." you said holding the knife up to his face before turning away, going to put it back in the block now you knew you didnt need it.

"Well at least i know you're being careful," he smirked, opening your front door instead of following you.

"Honey I'm home!" Stu called out in a sing song voice which made you roll your eyes and mumble a little prayer for patience.

When he came swinging round the doorframe into the kitchen however, you couldn't help but feel a glow of happiness in your stomach at the sight of him. One which left you struggling to hide your smile though you tried desperately to hold it back.

He'd been to the store and had brought several bags worth of groceries, all of which were apparently for you because before you could ask what he was doing, he'd started unpacking everything. Give it ten minutes and you'd feel guilty of course, there was a reason you didn't really stock your own fridge and it wasn't that you didn't know where the store was.

You weren't sure what to do with yourself, just stood there, arms wrapped round yourself, watching as Stu organised your fridge.

"Uh guys..." you started, your voice a little too quiet for Stu to hear as he chatted away to you and Billy about Randy and some drama that had gone down at the video store. You went to open your mouth to speak again but Billy caught your eyes and got there first.

"We thought something might have happened to you when you didn't show at school today..."

"Yeah," agreed Stu, "figured we'd swing by and check on our baby girl," he said pulling an overly saccharine smile at you as he finished unpacking the shopping.

"Then we get here and we see a cop car outside your house... Now I'll admit y/n, that did scare me." finsihed Billy. Whilst he'd been talking to you he'd come closer, close enough to brush your hair from your face, and when he had he didnt step away.

"We thought you might have been victim number 3!"

"Tact Stu..." said billy through gritted teeth, rolling his eyes but softening again when he returned his focus to you. He was concentrating, his eyes full of concern as he let his fingers push a stray lock of hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear as he spoke. "Whyd you stay home y/n? You'd have been safer in..."

"Jesus Billy you sound just like the cops," you said folding your arms across your chest, "i skipped cause i wanted to skip alright?" you drawled, eyes offering him nothing but sullen darkness. You were the only person who could match his own.

"Whyd you wanna skip?" he asked looking at you as if he really was terribly puzzled by your answer. Stu however sniggered, throwing a packet of chips at his friend.

"Who doesn't wanna skip school dumb ass?"

"You might be the resident shithead Stu but somehow i think our little y/n's smarter than that..." said Billy tight smirk as he chucked the chips right back at his friend. When Stu caught them he grinned all 'why thank you kind sir' as he opened the pack and shoved a handful in his mouth.

You bit back a smile at the sight of Stu stuffing his face, his behaviour so cartoonish you almost couldn't believe he was real. But Billy was still fixing you with that needy look, waiting for an answer.

"I'm just not feeling too great Billy, i got a headache an stuff," you said hoping he'd buy the same lie you'd given the cops. If he wasn't going to accept the truth he could have the same lie you'd given Sheriff Burke and Dewy Riley. You didnt owe him the truth if he wasn't going to believe you.

But Billy was smarter than the cops it seemed.

"You're not sick... That what you told the cops?"

"Uhuh."

"Come here," he said, his brows knitted together as he pushed the back of his hand to your forehead and peered at you, no longer concerned as such but determined. "You're not sick," he confirmed, "why'd you lie to the cops?"

"You work for them or something?" you asked dryly. "Its like i said dumbass, i skipped cause i felt like it..." you said shrugging him off and pushing past the two of them, dismissing yourself with "You're making me miss my movie."

You were half expecting them to leave you alone then, half expecting them to come settle in right beside you on the sofa. You weren't sure what you would have rathered either.

On the one hand you didn't really like being alone in your mothers house all the time. You refused to talk to yourself when you were alone because it was cliche and ridiculous, but the silence drove you mad too sometimes. On the other hand, the boys would drive you insane too.

"You really feeling sick?" asked Stu, throwing himself down on the couch beside you, offering you some chips from the bag he'd near enough demolished already. "Suit yourself," he smirked when you recoiled.

"Yeah..."

"She's not sick Stu don't believe her," said Billy again still frowning at you when he perched himself on the arm of the sofa, his feet resting on the cushions near yours. He leant forward with his elbows resting on his knees, looking down at you. "Whats the matter y/n why you lying to us?"

"Cause i already tried telling you the truth and it wasn't good enough... Shithead..." you grumbled hugging your knees to your chest, eyes fixed on the tv screen and the movie as you tried your best to ignore your "friends."

"Is it cause of Steve and Casey?" he asked ignoring the fact that you were obviously ignoring him, "you scared?"

"No," you rolled your eyes, speaking with a sigh, trying desperately to communicate your boredom with the situation. But that was the problem, you were trying too hard. Billy could see right through the front you were putting on and knew something was up, whether you were scared or disgusted or something else, he knew this hostility you were trying on was a cover up for something else.

"Well you're coming into school tomorrow, I'm gonna come pick you up to make sure," he said finally, his own sullen eyes fixed on the tv now too, both of you glaring at the scene which was playing out. Both of you determined not to show the other that they were getting under your skin.

#Billy loomis x reader #Billy x stu x reader #scream 1996 #Slasher x reader

[takearisk-xo]

Hi Hannah! I saw your ask about someone reading TPFY in spite of the dramione endgame and I want you to know that isn't how all of us feel! I am so excited for your sequels and I can't wait to read your take on dramione because I know you won't bash Ron.

Any chance you have a spoiler or snippet you can share with us while we wait? 👀👀👀

LOVE YOU 😘

gahhh!!! this is so !!!!!! thanks for wanting to follow along even after installment 1 is finished and posted. that has me so excited for the follow ups, you have no idea!

i do have a little spoiler to share from the eventual draco/hermione fic <333

The clifftop made for a picturesque party, Draco could at least give the newlyweds that. The indigo sky yawned above, stars twinkling as if they were in on the celebration, while a light sea breeze wafted across the grassy moorland and inebriated the reception just as much as the libations. 

Most of the people in attendance were old school chums of either the bride’s or the groom’s, which made for an eclectic, and borderline frightening, combination of people. Draco had made it his life’s mission to avoid socializing with anyone from his youth, and yet there he was, forced into the undertaking against all his better instincts. 

He decided right then and there that he would never forgive Theo for it.

Leaning against the temporary bartop, Draco sipped his G&T and vaguely wondered how much longer he would have to stay at this infernal wedding.

A cascade of ginger hair floated toward him in her cream and ivory bridesmaid gown, bringing his self imposed isolation and silent suffering to an effective end. 

“Weasel,” he greeted without bothering to glance her way. 

“Oh, darling,” she lamented with a sardonic smile. “I’m afraid I’ve been Potty for years.”

He knew that, of course. It had been hard not to, with how often their names were splashed across headlines, but it felt…telling, somehow, to let on that he’d kept up with the basic knowledge of their lives. So, instead, Draco pulled a grimace. “My sincerest apologies for the misfortune.”

His rudeness didn’t put her off in the slightest, in fact she propped an elbow against the bar and looked like she might stay a while. Finnegan brought her a flute of sparkling wine, along with a grin and some pointless small talk. Then they were alone again; left to view the gathering from the perimeter of the fairy lights. 

Most everyone had taken to the dancefloor, the string quartet leading couples in an unnecessarily upbeat waltz. Potter, the one not currently standing next to Draco, had Lovegood in his arms and was trodding on the bride’s foot nearly every other box step. It was honestly painful to watch. Full of mirth, he wondered if perhaps the woman next to him preferred Draco’s company over her husband’s for that specific reason.

Not three feet away from Potter and Lovegood, Pansy and Longbottom weren’t bothering with the melody at all. Instead, they clung to each other in an obscene embrace that made Draco feel like he was intruding on something indecent. 

Then his gaze snagged on Granger, laughing without restraint as Terry Boot led her in small circles. She looked positively carefree. Nothing of the tight expressions or stunted pleasantries he’d grown used to. 

A pang of something reverberated through his middle. He fundamentally refused to identify it. 

Next to him, Weasley—no, Potter—God, this was getting confusing—Ginny followed his line of sight and the corners of her mouth twitched into an insufferable smirk. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” she inserted after a few short moments.

Downing his ice diluted cocktail, Draco waved to Finnegan for another and didn’t bother with an answer. 

“Harry mentioned you were helping them,” she murmured for his ears only. 

He raised an eyebrow. The last thing he needed was a sodding Gryffindor, let alone a Weasley, to examine his aims and motivations. So, he peered out over the crowd, seemingly unconcerned, and promptly deflected, “What’s it like?”

She glanced up at him with a pinched brow and let the silence ask the question for her. 

He clarified in a nefarious whisper, “To have the savior of the wizarding world collared and leashed?” 

Ginny laughed, and judging by the sparkle in her eyes, it was genuine. 

“I imagine it’s quite heady,” he continued, chasing down the moment when she would inevitably retreat. “To control someone so…distinguished.”

She gave him no such satisfaction. Ginny Potter turned to face him, mirroring his relaxed position, and considering him with an open and curious expression. He almost respected her for it, if it weren’t so inconvenient. 

“How very stereotypical,” she chuckled, “to examine a relationship on the basis of power. Did the conclusion of mutual trust and support really not occur to you?”

Draco scoffed. “It may have, but it’s the second to least probable explanation.”

“And your least probable?”

“That he’s a good shag.”

Something flinty and wicked ignited in her countenance and she grinned at him. 

“No,” Draco heaved dramatically. “Don’t tell me. It will ruin my life.”

She shrugged, taking another sip of champagne. 

The song drifted to an end and the swaying bodies slowed to a stop. Most everyone clapped politely in the interlude, while several others swapped partners or vacated the dancefloor altogether. 

Granger extricated herself from Terry Boot, and was halfway free from the throng, when Lovegood caught her hands and pulled her back. The two girls giggled happily, and Granger allowed herself to be led through a series of steps and twirls. It looked positively laughable. However, Draco couldn’t find a single sneering thought in his own head. 

A slight cough to his left pulled his attention back to the present. 

Fuck’s sake, Ginny had caught him staring. Again. 

Thankfully, Finnegan chose that moment to deliver Draco’s drink and he could ignore her knowing look by relishing the burn of gin at the back of his throat. 

Raising his glass to her in a farce of a toast, he made to escape. “Enjoy your evening, Potty.”

He’d only begun to move away when her low voice followed after him. “Hermione can’t resist a project.”

Draco turned halfway, icy indignation seeping into his bloodstream. Before he could decide on a rather un-witty retort, though, Ginny took a step closer. 

Steely determination hardened her features. “Make sure you’re worthy of it.”

“Or what?” he hissed. The taunt formulated smoothly and without hesitation. “I’ll have to deal with you?”

“Hermione is quite capable of handling you herself,” Ginny tossed him a small, terrifying smile. “But if you betray her, or Harry, I’ll gladly hide the body.”

His nostrils flared at being so brazenly threatened, but he had no doubt of her resolve, or frankly, her abilities. 

Ginny’s expression once again smoothed into passive amusement, and she tapped her glass against his lightly. “Enjoy your evening, Malfoy.”

#all i've yet to be #the path from you #dramione #lovenott #hinny #anon #answered

[genderqueerpositivity]

I legitimately feel worse about TDoV coming up this year than I have in any past years. I have been trying to motivate myself to action, and I have totally failed. I'm overworked and burned out and I've been absolutely dreading the end of this month because I haven't done enough, I should be doing so much more than I am.

I feel a distinct pressure to be more visible. A responsibility almost. As if by being more loudly and openly trans, I could personally convince everyone that we aren't so bad after all, that we should just be left alone to live our lives. Unfortunately things aren't that simple.

I feel like a bad person and a bad activist at times for being unwilling to put myself more at risk, for not having the time or spoons to take part in some of the work happening locally right now, for being so overwhelmed by trying to keep up with the amount of anti-trans news coming out every day that I simply shut down.

I also feel hyper-visible this year. In part thanks to HRT, I am more visibly gender non-conforming than ever. I feel like an outsider, an intruder in public spaces. I feel eyes watching me sometimes, examining, judging, staring as if they could peel away the layers of my gender expression. Sometimes it appears as though they are doing mental math, calculating, trying to determine if the answer to the equation is XX or XY. My body itself is a physical obstacle which causes other people to stumble over their words and double check the sign on the restroom door.

And sometimes I feel invisible. I spend most of my time around people who are not aware of my transness and who absolutely would respect me less if they knew. Even those in my blood family who do know don't even give me the basic respect of using my own name. And I feel fairly certain that legally and socially transitioning would be the end of my ability to advance at my job, right as the opportunity for a possible promotion could be coming.

I feel sad and angry at times. About the future of the trans community and this country, about my future as a trans queer person and my ability to continue medically transitioning. Sometimes the rage I feel is a living thing all on it's own, terrifying...and necessary, because it burns like fuel, creating fire out of despair, and I'm not certain that I would be able to see past the hopelessness without it.

And I feel unsafe, frequently. Especially in public, where I now prefer to have some sort of weapon on me all the time. A false sense of security is better than no sense of security, I've decided. Before this year, I never felt the need for that before--not when I lived in a far more rural and conservative area than I do now, not even in the aftermath of experiencing a home invasion. Now I carry knives, own pepper spray, and am considering buying a stun gun or taser.

I love being genderqueer and transmasculine. I love it so much. I love the routine of applying my testosterone cream every day, I love the ways that testosterone has changed my body over the past two years, I love the way my voice sounds after so many years of hating it, I love being called sir and Mx. and he and they. In spite of the danger, I love it when someone obviously can't decide which binary gender to ascribe to me; it's an incredible feeling, finally being seen purely as myself in all of my queerness.

Gender euphoria is a magical thing and transitioning is empowering and life saving, an act of radical self love. Having experienced these things, knowing that I may have them taken from me, and seeing that so many others may never get to experience them in the first place...

I am afraid for us. And I grieve for us. And I love us. And I admire our strength and resilience and resistance. And this is what TDoV will be for me this year and I'm hoping that will be enough.

#tdov #transphobia tw #weapons tw #personal #op

[todaysdocument]

Letter from Lt. Henry O. Flipper to Representative John A. T. Hull Regarding a Bill Introduced to Congress to Reinstate Lt. Flipper into the Army and Restore His Rank

Record Group 233: Records of the U.S. House of Representatives Series: Committee Papers

Henry O. Flipper Member "Association of Civil Engineers of Arizona" Deputy U.S. Mineral Surveyor Consultations on Mexican Land and Mining Laws Notary Public Santa Fe, New Mexico, October 23, 1898. Hon. John A. T. Hull, Desmoines, Iowa. Dear Sir: I send you, in this mail and under separate cover, a printed copy of the Brief I have prepared in my case under Bill, H.R. 9849, which was so kindly introduced in the House for me by the Hon. Michael Griffin, at the last session of Congress. In May last I submitted to you and to the members of the Sub-Committee a type-written copy of a Brief I had hastily prepared in Washington. I have carefully rewritten and revised that Brief and now send you a copy for your perusal and consideration. In coming to Congress with my case, I do so because there is no individual or other tribunal to which I can go, no official or other official body with power to review the case and grant or refuse my petition. In coming to you, to the Committee and the Congress, I do not ask that aught be done for me from motives of mere sympathy and yet I cannot help feeling that all of us can and do sympathize with those who have been wronged. I am sure that, after reading my Brief through, you will understand and appreciate the struggle I made to rise above the station to which I was born, how I won my way through West Point and how I made as honorable a record in the Army as any officer in it, in spite of

J. A. T. H. -2- the isolation, lack of social association, ostracism and what not to which I was subjected by the great majority of my brother officers. You will recognize also the almost barbarous treatment to which I was subjected at the time I was accused and tried. It will not be possible, I apprehend, for you or any member of the Committee to wade through the 1000 or more pages of the record, nor is it necessary, but, if you should do so, you will readily be convinced that the rime of being a Negro was, in my case, far more heinous than deceiving the commanding officer. My utter helplessness and conviction then arose from that cause and without the generous assistance of yourself and the other gentlemen of the Committee, in Committee and on the floor of the House, I shall be equally helpless now. I believe my case is a strong one as well as a meritorious one and one that will commend itself to you for approval and will enlist your sympathy and support. I ask nothing because I am a Negro, yet that fact must press itself upon your consideration as a strong motive for the wrong done me as well as a powerful reason for righting that wrong. I ask only what Congress has seen fit to grant to others similarly situated. I ask only that justice which every American citizen has the right to ask and which Congress alone has the power to grant. In my Brief I offer for your consideration two cases,

one occurring before my trial and of which I should have had the benefit as a precedent, and the other occurring after my trial. They will show you how white officers of long years of experience and of high rank have been treated for the same offense as that for which I was tried and dismissed. I also present six precedents in which Congress has granted to dismissed offers precisely what I am asking. I do not believe Congress ever had before it a case as deserving of favorable action as my case, and for that reason I do not hesitate to appeal to you and to ask you to champion it for me and to see that both the Committee and the House take speedy and favorable action and pass the bill just as Mr. Griffin introduced it without amendment of any character. You will have my gratitude and that of my entire race, as well as the satisfaction of having righted a great wrong done to a member of a harmless but despised and friendless race. Relying upon you, as I do, I have the honor to be, Very truly yours, Henry O. Flipper [handwritten signature]

#archivesgov #October 23 #1898 #19th century #West Point #buffalo soldiers #Henry O. Flipper #us army

[doodlesfromthebird]

Heya I've been drawing for a few years now but I'm still learning every day and I'm more than aware of the skill gap between me and others which is fine I am willing to work hard and improve. You and your art is a really big inspiration to me and I hope to reach your level someday. Can't help however but be really demotivated and easily affected by the difference between me and others and I know I shouldn't compare myself with people who have been drawing for wayyy longer than I have. What was your experience while improving your art? Any words of wisdom from the bird? I love drawing and I don't want to lose this kind of connection to it but most of the hours I spend practising are driven by spite and hatred over my own self aaaagh is this too personal lol thank god for the anonymous option lol I LOVE YOUR ART, I look at everything your passion for art overflows through your work.

Hey, pal! It's nothing to fret over, and I'm glad you feel comfortable sharing this! I think getting all your thoughts out this way is already good way to start, and I hope that alone was able to let off some steam on the subject.

I absolutely know how this feels, and it's still something that crops up for me time to time, too! It's gotten easier to manage over the years, but there's certainly times where it's taken the wind outta my sails and sunk my energy to be creative.

I think when you're wrapped up in that headspace, the best thing to do is stop the struggle and don't try to force progress. Don't even allow yourself to problem solve, or ask anything from yourself when that cloud's over your head. There have been plenty of times where I just end up making myself feel worse by simply asking "why do I like to create in the first place?" because I'll come up with overly critical answers "well, it's the only thing I'm good at"

Wait til you've distanced yourself from that frustration, and then give yourself time to reflect. Why do you actually enjoy making art? What about your connection to your creativity is so special to you? At what point in time did you enjoy drawing the most, and why? Why do you want to improve in the first place?

It's difficult because I think it's wonderful that you're pushing yourself to improve and practice. There's been many times where I've wished I could go back in time and tell myself to get more serious about practicing sooner. However, I absolutely don't think it's worth putting strain on your connection with your creativity. I think spite can be a powerful motivator, but when it's fueled by your own dissatisfaction and hatred for your own work, it cuts off the flow of that essential part of you that loves to create for the sake of it.

Sitting down to practice is going to feel like torture, because that spark of joy just CAN'T get to ya when you're trying to appease that part of you that thinks its you're gonna get left behind if you don't work harder. Brute forcing improvement has absolutely worked for some people! But it's also completely normal for that work style to make YOU feel miserable if it's at odds with how you actually enjoy drawing.

Is this all to say that you should only try to get better when you're in LOVE with how you feel about art? Not at all! You don't have to try and add any special feelings or force positivity, you just have to remove the resistance and the burden you put on yourself as best you can.

So if I could suggest anything, as corny as it may sound: be more kind to yourself. I mean it! Make peace with where you are. Celebrate your small wins. Detach yourself from it, if nothing else. Your art isn't always going to look better than it did yesterday, but look back on your work from a year ago! If you don't like the way your art looks, that's fine! That can be 100% true and it doesn't have to be a bad thing. You're going to improve. Take inspired action and practice in a way that draws that connection you treasure with art closer to you. Spend more time listening and indulging in what the creative in you wants to do in between study sessions.

I can comfortably say that I'm at the skill level where younger me would have wanted to aspire to be at. And yet, I have MANY days where I look at my work and wished it looked like someone else's. I still stare at a blank canvas with an idea in my head and feel dejected because my skill level isn't up to par with what I want to achieve. I promise you your art has value the way it looks Right Now.

Once you give yourself that grace, you're going to start looking forward to practicing. The inspiration that'll hit is going to motivate you to try things you might never have thought you'd attempt. Once you look at your work differently, your work is going to change. That's not going to be easy at first, but you can start by just saying "I am where I am, and I'm getting ready to be even better."

If you're interested in some suggestions to maybe get in the flow, while also satisfy the brain's need for Progress when practicing just isn't hittin' right:

Challenge yourself to scribble whatever pops into your head. Anything. Maybe it's absurdly complicated! Who cares. draw The Last Supper from memory in five minutes as best you can. Draw an insane fight scene with stick figures in weird angles. Your brain is going to !!HATE!! doing it, but that's fine! It's going to force you to detach from it. Allow yourself to create something that's bad and can be thrown away right after. Don't spend more than 30 minutes on these. Take the most complicated ideas off a pedestal by just Attempting them anyway.

Challenge yourself to draw only what would appease your inner child for a full day. If you used to trace over screenshots from a tv show to insert a fan character in, DO THAT. Draw something while listening to the soundtrack of one of your favorite video games as a child. Draw an alternative book cover for one of your favorite childhood books.

Practice anatomy by turning the models your referencing from into your favorite characters.

Color/paint a scene/character by picking colors from a screenshot in a movie you really like.

put on a favorite show/movie and draw for the entire duration of an episode/movie run-time. Draw passively without the intention of showing it to anyone.

draw a bunch of large, wonky shapes that fill up the entire canvas/paper and draw mini illustrations contained within those shapes.

IF ALL ELSE FAILS!!! GO TAKE A NAP!!! :) Don't be hard on yourself for being hard on yourself, either. Allow yourself time and ease.

I hope any of this brought hope, or comfort, or even just something to consider. I'm so glad you enjoy my art!! Thank you for your kind words. You and I and everyone else are walking this same road to improvement, and even though sometimes it might not feel that way, we're ALL walking side by side. You aren't alone, friend.

#letters to the bird

[katyspersonal]

Who is your favorite Elden Ring character?

Oh man.. This is a very hard question to answer because I love a LOT of characters for their own reasons, and it is really hard to pick one. You might as well send me this ask again every weak and there's a chance the answer would be different every time, too, because my thought process and personality are not stable either! (don't actually send it every week xD)

In general, I can learn to love every character after peering very deep within their being and discovering their potential (or nurturing it), but some characters still stand out and have been stable enough as favourites! That'd be Melina, Ranni, Goldmask, Sellen, Nepheli, Alberich, Yura, Eleonora, Ensha, Malenia (+Millicent), Godwyn and Vyke! I am sorta waiting on Miquella/Trina for DLC because I just don't know what to expect considering Martin's involvement!

I think Melina is the closest to what I could have as favourite character! My favs are more or less equally loved, but she left an emotional impact on me like no other character had before and that alone made her stand out already! Heck, I tag posts about her as 'wife' from time to time! You see..,

The full archive of EPIC AND VERY QUESTIONABLY SANE CONVERSATION is in this chain ( x ), but basically I've completely missed the point of Shabriri gaslighting us. The fact he was talking about burning Melina completely flew over my head, mostly because I didn't check right dialogues. The point about how there is no reason to fix the broken world and existence itself is a curse, however.....? (God I still fucking LOVE the "it is not my fault you jump into ‘hurr hurr but mass destruction bad’ instead of actually thinking" gem fdjhfhs). So, when my friends kept arguing with me I could not actually hear them!

And yet, everything changed when it was just Melina being sad with her voice even trembling a little bit if I remember correctly, convincing us to not inherit FF before the door to it, when everything clicked for me and I snapped out of it. There was something in her expressing her feelings on importance of life in spite of despair, pain, oppression and constant resistance that felt bigger and more important than any thoughtful conclusions on nature of life and world itself.

It is already very admirable that she makes a conscious choice to sacrifice herself for this world. It is not blindly following the purpose she was given, but she comprehends what she is doing and why, having a chance to live her own life now that Marika is absent but still choosing not to, so others could. There is no guarantee that Tarnished (or anyone) WILL make the future better, no way to tell what happens after she annihilates herself. She is motivated by hope for this world, and her trust. Hope is almost alien emotion for me, so I am impressed by the character that embodies it so much. And of course with the way she can kick ass, and how she asserts herself that her sacrifice is not OUR choice, I thought she was pretty badass.

All that is already hard qualities to compete with as they are, and they got strengthened by, without exaggeration, a bit of personal experience with the character! And then it gets MORE personal because, ironically, such an important character also dies in a unique way in Soulsborne context. Death is rarely a thing in Soulsborne worlds because of souls, planes of reality and timespace shenanigans, but Melina already had no body and thus burnt her soul. This is a complete annihilation without any loophole and backtrack, yet I don't even have the heart to meddle with this even in my imagination because this is what she decided.

#elden ring #melina #ask replies #I think she is the most stable one even amongst other stable ones #yeah ASS you can tell which characters I post about and reblog is not a good indication of who is my fav! #because again I am too comfortable reblogging from the same 10 people on my dash and don't go into fandom tag #I should but........ #as for 'personality' aspect this is complicated! #for example there were instances of me simping hard for Seluvis and admiring Rykard quite a lot or really liking Godrick and Shabriri #(hahaha the irrational one? the bad guys loving one? the evil one??) #but to put it simply the 'side' of me that loves those bastards is 'unactive' during me typing this ask reply #and I don't even know if it's unactive or straight up gone #yeah it is just DID / personality disorder moment

[wataksampingan]

Ch 87 is out on Webtoon Fast Pass and uh. Words.

(I need a spoiler warning banner gif or something. Anyway, spoilers galore)

As usual I have nothing that makes coherent sense or contains proper punctuation.

All I got is blubbering over how humble these two leads are and how much they doubt themselves in their pain and how much good they still do in spite of it and how many more chapters to go (even beyond That One Chapter I lost sleep over) before they fully realise how well they suit each other-

....okay before Perry realises how well they suit each other.

Also, I am dying to know her stepmother's deal. Clearly Count Zahardt wasn't perfect, but saying shit like "only the faint-hearted follow illusions"* is RICH coming from her when she attempted to achieve her goals (whatever those are) by poisoning her husband (an extremely untenable - thus illusory - method). In fact, all of Perry's childhood memories of her so far have been laced with some sort of strange edge, as if this woman has resented Perry from the beginning. I know money is a huge motive but is that the only driving force behind such hatred?

So what was it really? Jealousy over the previous Countess Zahardt? Resentment against Perry's father for his (according to her) overzealous charity and her greed for more? All of the above?

Perry sure got the brunt of it, considering this one single memory brings up doubts like:

1. If the countdom grew poorer because my father just kept helping others, then that means I could be the cause of the Lapileons' downfall too since they have been helping me constantly

2. Aren't I then also neglecting those around me, like my own countdom and my uncle? Also doesn't that mean just being here instantly brings more trouble to a place that already contends with so many other problems? Even Gloria doesn't live in the manor so as not to overburden their staff and supply run

3. Was my poor father such a fool as my stepmother said? Was the man I loved best in the world really so unworthy?

4. I'm also a fool to 'chase an illusion', to think that I could ever be capable enough to continue my parents' work and legacy when I can barely do anything on my own.

In Perry's mind, it doesn't matter how quickly she learned to help with the Lapileons' household paperwork, how much she's done to bring Celphi out from his shell and how well she manages herself in noble social circles, how she gave Saoirse reason to believe in others again, how she proved to Gloria that she was quick and justified at pointing out flaws in the staffing system of the family, how she essentially rescued Islette and probably countless others from Gen - how she constantly gives Theo reasons to live, rather than just exist.

All of that pales in comparison to watching Theo succeed at seemingly Everything, while she... doesn't. That perfectionist viewpoint that she arguably received from her stepmother makes her so vulnerable to this self doubt.

But now he's actually, and very rationally, putting things into perspective, not just to make her feel better but because it's all true. It's not his talent and discipline alone that sustains the Lapileon estate. He too has received much help, and crucially, while his grandfather was a complete monster, his grandmother, uncle and siblings weren't. Comparatively, Perry only has one trustworthy uncle and no such influence/power/wealth as the Lapileons. Implicitly, to have come this far on her own speaks volumes of her strength and courage (not that she would even notice it herself)

In any case, now not only is Theo capable and successful, he's proven himself humble (humble!), and clearly grateful for her by actually vocalising it.

I love this conversation so much because Theo is gentle without being patronising, and reasonable enough that Perry can't help but see the logic. He also seems to have learned from his previous fit of anger that this woman needs coaxing. She has trust issues as numerous as his own, so he can't brute force his way into her confidence.

But they are so similar, it's wonderful to see him immediately on the same page, immediately recognising her doubts because he's probably had similar thoughts growing up. He was made grand duke after his older brother died and sister incapacitated by grief. He too must live up to a legacy left behind by people he respects and loves. There are huge shoes to fill for him too.

Also:

You did this to yourself Pereshati LMAO

(forever laughing at how he was so focused on pouring out his true feelings to her that he went on auto pilot and won)

Oh oh, one more unrelated thing to yell fruitlessly into the ether:

ENGLISH BOOK PUBLICATION WHEN, WEBTOON?? KOREAN VOL. 3 IS ALREADY DUE ON THE 27TH!!

* I forgot this was a flashback to ep 31!!

...Lillian is still incredibly malicious and suspicious!!

#my in laws are obsessed with me #my in-laws are obsessed with me #MILAOWM #oh the incessant ramblings that happen each time a new chapter comes out #idk man #ugh this otp

[lumpyorgan4799]

Dennis Nilsen notes: 

“How to explain the irresistible compulsion to join the sea, to be part of it, to sink into the solace of its company? His mother would think him mad! A love for sea has never ceased to feed his imagination in the years since he left Scotland. “I am at one with visions of breaks in the dark wild sky,’ he writes. “With heavenly shafts of light searching the grumbling sea.” > pg. 51 || indicative of the SX instinct 

‘Dennis, however, rarely participated or joined in; still melancholic and drawn to the sea, he formed no close friendships with the children of his new neighbourhoods.’ 

‘He was, in the local word, a ‘Skowkie’ child, unsmiling and resentful of questioning adults, to whom he gave a clear impression of disgust and reserve.’ > 

Dennis confirmed that he felt cold towards the family  — there wasn’t anyone he had positive feelings for except for his grandfather. > 

‘In those days, I could hate my stepfather, Adam Scott very easily. I was, I suppose, very jealous of him having a relationship with my mother. 

‘I was a very lonely and turbulent child. I inhabited my own secret world full of ideal and imaginary friends. Nature had mismatched me from the flock.’ > Ni + enneagram image 4 + E5 influence 

In spite of Dennis having school-mates, he would often wander the fields and woods alone  — lost in his own thoughts and head. 

‘He felt inferior and ashamed; he did not dare approach him, but merely hovered in the playground watching him and trying to get near him, his legs quivering like jelly.”  > SO 4

‘He was a frail and skinny boy, very self-conscious, introverted, and shy’

. ‘then he must indulge his secret emotions in private, where the imagination rules  — not reality.’ > enneagram 5w4 

‘Dennis was aroused by the image of himself, but of himself only as a dead man. Love and death were becoming dangerously mingled in his mind, as he remembered the image of his adored dead grandfather.’ > image type 4 (idealism of own self). Quietly in the quarters of his mind, Dennis was dead, too. 

‘Dennis especially enjoyed the free ambiance of equality, which accorded well with his rapidly developing sense of idealism in political matters.’  

‘His mother recalls that he would stay up late listening to music and writing poetry. He was a moody uncommunicative stranger in the house.’ > strong BETA NF (EIE/IEI) 

‘So the endless search for companionship continued.’ > SX INSTINCT 

‘Motivated by a strong social conscience, he quickly became immersed in the task and it was not long until he was a branch secretary’ 

‘Work became an obsessive substitute for an empty life, and since he seemed unable to convey his concern for individuals in any way which they understood or could accept, he would devote his concern to the nebulous concept of mankind in general’. 

‘He was too keen, too impulsive, too angry; they wondered what deep irritations fed his manic eagerness.’ > high neuroticism (big 5) 

Dennis was no diplomat; he was impatient of the strategy whereby an important objective was attained by subtle means. > Te frustration 

in their view, he was volatile and excitable, and although they could not fault his work (indeed, he worked harder than most). 

He was not, and never would consent to be, submissive. On the contrary, he fought with ever increasing vigour to break, bend, or divert the rules which he seemed to think were being applied for his personal chastisement. > Enneagram 8 + Se (socionics) 

He was meticulously efficient and a workaholic 

his demeanour was confusing; he could be abrupt, short-tempered, impatient, and driven by a need to talk without pause, or even better to argue. He was passionate in debate. When aroused, he would be wonderfully sarcastic. On the other hand, he was at times docile, generous and kind. 

There were plenty of occasions when he generated real laughter. On the other hand, he was secretive and erratic. 

One of the most astonishing aspects of the case is Nilsen’s ability to go about his daily work with energy and enthusiasm, to go out for drinks, walk the dog, and even entertain people peacefully at his flat. All while there was a collection of bodies under his floor or cupboard. > low Si (socionics) 

#dennis nilsen #socionics #mbti #enneagram

[myjunkisyuzuruhanyu]

before nhk i didn’t care about shoma’s placements this season especially after seeing how happy he was at the cup of china, but now i want him to win out of spite to all the people who have never treated him like the champion he is. even jackie (who’s opinions i usually value) had him off the podium in his predictions? how??? and he absolutely should be first after the sp, no debate. I would have ilia third. i know 4A, big deal, but i’m sorry, he still skates like a junior to me.

Same! I can only agree.

I thought before NHK every comp as a bonus and I really don't mind Shoma not winning if it's fair like at CoC but NHK just wasn't fair. So I really also want him now to win just every competition out of spite! But ofc if Shoma doesn't perform good and others do, it's fine if he doesn't win.

But maybe NHK had something good to it, Shoma seems as motivated as hardly ever the past year. And having Yuma back is a great thing for Shoma.

I also think Shoma should have won the SP, but Ilia is just a few tenth away, not even one point with a much higher BV than Shoma, so I am ok. I was really worried how they'd score Shoma after NHK (and guess what the Jpn judge would have put Yuma in first) but now that he hasn't been scored badly I am fine with it. The SP is important in the matter that you don't start with a disadvantage like Adam now. You can't win on the SP alone,but you may lose because of it.

Ilia's basic skating is just not that good. And his PCS were way too high even if he just had the 5th highest, but he should get 40 at most, not 44. Unfortunately high TES will give you high PCS, nit how it should be,but how it's valued. I think Ilia got better than last season,but nowhere as close as the scores make it look like. I hope in the free skate the PCS difference will be more apparent.

I mean I know where Jackie is coming from with his predictions because Adam and Ilia have been putting out performances and scores that Shoma didn't get. But I mean Yuma's scores didn't match either and atm Shoma has a much higher BV than Yuma and it's also not like Yuma was throwing out clean performances in the free skate so far either... anyway it's 4 "real" contenders and one will not medal, but after the SP it looks more like it might be Adam, not Shoma.

#shoma uno #figure skating #gpf 2023 #replies

[doodlegirl1998]

Thinking about how, once again, mha is a dystopia. Why every kid wants to be heroes?

Money could be a good reason but excluding Izu and Ocha, no one seems to be struggling financially to the point "oh no. I need to be a hero and help my family"

Then I thought about and well...propaganda is a good tool for good or bad. Then now I wonder if AM was such tool. Think about it, he is the #1 hero of all Japan and kids, especially in Japan, have this idol culture where "this dude is so cool. I want to buy all his merch and be like him"

We see kids (even baby Tenko) playing as AM, the victorious one. A propaganda can sure make seem this job as a amazing and wonderful.

Ok....where is the propaganda? Why the kids really want to be heroes? (Maybe is an excuse to use their quirks freely, but I can only especulate)

In mha we are told (lightly show) kids want to be heroes but is never explaines why, let alone why quirkless Izu wants to be a hero.

Where is the propaganda?

Does other heroes resent AM for that? Does they thank AM for this?

Hori wants us to believe everyone wants to be hero, in a society where people will blame you, the hero, if you lose. You have to be Atlas or else you are cancelled.

Hi @mikeellee 👋

Yeah this is what I find strange about Hori's world building - it's never really explored why all these kids want to be heroes bar a few rare examples (here's the ones I can think of.)

Bakugou - wants to be the next number 1 and rich for himself (see Volume 1.)

Ochaco - wants to provide for her family and being a hero will help her do that.

Izuku - Wants to help and save people like All Might. (Ok that's fine but why a hero specifically? Izu could have been a Doctor, Firefighter or a Quirk Analyst and still done that. It would be interesting if he wanted to be a hero specifically out of spite because that's one of the things people told him he could never do.)

Shoto: wanted to be a hero to save people like his mother and siblings - but his mother explicitly. - This could have been a great way to explore heroic corruption if there were more 'heroic people' having quirk marriages like this. Yet Hori doesn't give us that. Endeav seems like one rare asshole. Not systemic corruption.

Here's the thing, it's not really explored why anyone else / any other kid wants to be a hero other than brief barely explored ideas at best. I've included a few examples below.

"My brother is a hero, I want to be like him," - Iida. Great - so why doesn't Hori explore this more and have Tensei appear more as a driving force for Iida?

"Saving people is so cool," - Jirou. Ok, why does she think that? Was she ever in a position where she needed saving? Why was this so strong a feeling that she prioritised this career path over her music which is passionate about?

Kirishima hates bullies and views saving people as "manly" taking inspiration from Crimson Riot. So why be a hero specifically? Just because his idol was? Kirishima could have been an amazing teacher and eradicated bullies that way. (Ignore for a moment about how being besties with the biggest bully in 1A undermines all that.)

Mineta says he wants to be a hero to "get girls" and "be popular". Shallow but realistic motivations for a teen boy yet there must be something more driving him otherwise he would have given up by now.

I wish we saw more of the HPSC propaganda, the deeper things driving these kids to heroism specifically and AM's good work that's spoken about but not seen enough.

Do the kids want freedom to use their quirks and use them for good? I could see that especially with sentient quirks like Dark Shadow, keeping sentient quirks surpressed would probably be hard and painful.

As for your last point - I think other heroes relied on and admired AM a lot viewing him as above them - the symbol of stability of their society. A concept that has a lot of flaws but will be undoubtedly repeated in Izuku being the next symbol in their heroic society.

#mha critical #bnha critical #The world building in this series is weak #Why do people want to be heroes specifically? #anti bakugou katsuki #Anti Bakugou