#i love the public personal diary aspect of this but

[tumblasha]

izuku "blessed" panel moment

those of you who follow me on my irl twitter may have read say the title of this blogpost in one of my tweets. the actual reference is to a panel in my hero academia where midoriya izuku is eating dinner with his classmates and reflects on his current enjoyment of life (his mentor is proud of him, his love interest is talking to him, he's gaining control of his superpowers / quirks). it all culminates in this moment where he says in one panel "i am too...", leading to the panel i'm referencing: "blessed" (then there's a joke bc one of the characters is trying to ask him for some sauce on the table and izuku is too distracted lmao).

i used to tweet this out whenever i spent some random night with college friends: we'd prob be drunk in the kitchen and watching tv. this panel is the last of izuku's thoughts we see before He Literally Starts Fighting The Big Bad TM In A War, and that's how i saw college graduation (i used to see it as a big separator from those friends / ppl i'd never see again).

now i think abt this panel more often but with less of the Fighting A War aspect. mostly bc i AM seeing my friends after graduation!!! i've already visited some of y'all and i'll see others later this year :))

here's a list of some of those moments where i'm just grateful for existing:

my lesbian cats sleeping next to me on the couch, occasionally waking up to stretch / snuggle closer to me

drinking with my roommate and her best friend

the kid i'm volunteer-tutoring to read is doing so well! and i'm helping her with some math too!!

re-learning french for my friend who "doesn't like speaking english in big cities" lol

eating some really good food + reading a really good book

having the power to plan vacations to see ppl (esp M in the spring + K in the summer!)

putting up polaroids of the cats on the fridge

giving my parents Nice Presents

my teammates they/them-ing me during team meetings

(and prob so many more i'm forgetting)

idk, feeling slightly emotional on this friday night

#dash rambles #y'all apparently cats' purrs are like #Healing #like not only for ur emotional / mental health #but for physical injuries #so thankful #time to share the wealth too! #can't wait to give my hs friend her wedding gift hehe #also someone tell me if i'm being Evil #but if the cat is on the table while i'm eating food #i just kinda pick it up #and throw it #(toss is a better word) #i feel like being around street cats makes this behavior towards cats normal #but my roommates look at me weird every time i say i'm gonna throw the cat or do the actual tossing #but i also feel like i'm the cats' favorites so i can't be That evil right #first-time cat-auncle thingsss #also y'all gotta post more #i love the public personal diary aspect of this but #>:0 more! #micosu #k

[storyofthenauseouseye]

The Duality of Woman: Anais Nin

Vogue Magazine, Anais Nin talks about being a woman, 15 October 1971

Anais Nin is a woman of duality. It's been a well-known fact for those who know or love her that she is truly a two-sided coin. She said it herself in her book Henry and June,

"I will always be the virgin prostitute, the perverse angel, the two-faced sinister and saintly woman"(bookquoters.com).

From her intense marriages to two different men on opposite sides of the country, to her literary career, to even her personal reflections and essays, Nin was a figure bathed in duality. How does one split the image of Anais Nin ideally in half? You just have to find the seam between diarist and eroticist.

The Diarist

Anais Nin is most well-loved by her adoring fans because of her published diary. As a young girl, Nin wrote her father a letter begging him to return to the family he had abandoned (The Anais Nin Foundation). This was the beginning of Nin's diary, which would be published in seven volumes, with four unexpurgated diaries later appearing after their original publication.

Her diaries were incredibly personal, full of secrets and thoughts she never thought would come to light. The biggest secret within these diaries was that she was married to two different men simultaneously, something she would remove from the diaries upon initial publication. Years later, Nin compiled the removed sections into one volume, the first of her unexpurgated diaries. It was called Henry and June, and detailed the letters and writings the two shared. The duality of Nin stretched throughout every aspect of her life.

These highly intimate journals struck twentieth-century American women directly in their souls. As one journalist famously put it in an article for The Conversation,

Anaïs Nin dreamed, in all senses. She dreamed of lives and possibilities. She dreamed in slumber and allowed her dreams to leak into the day. As I regularly committed the cardinal social sin of recounting my dreams over breakfast, she seemed a soulmate across oceans and generations (Gorman).

These teenage girls and their daydreams were instantly hooked on Nin's likeminded wonder and splendid prose. She became a sensation after the diary publications almost instantly, giving her a decent seat in literary history.

It wouldn't be long until something else gave her another boost of fame.

Ramon Casas, Decadent Young Woman. After the Dance, 1899

The Eroticist

In the late 1970s, Anais Nine published three volumes of erotic short fiction, each containing approximately ten stories. Despite their popularity, the term erotic is a tad inappropriate. Although she wasn't a follower of the transgressive art movement like Georges Bataille, Anais Nin's erotic stories are more disturbing and controversial than actually arousing.

Nin wrote about such topics as sexual abuse, incest, pedophilia, and other forms of sexual violence within her stories. These works would go on to shock and challenge readers even today (Maza).

Lost Lenore Antiques, Anais Nin ~ Little Birds and Delta of Venus ~ 1st Edition Books ~ Vintage Erotica, 27 August 2021

Works Cited

The Anais Nin Foundation. “bio — The Anais Nin Foundation.” The Anais Nin Foundation, https://theanaisninfoundation.org/bio. Accessed 11 December 2023.

Gorman, Alice. “The book that changed me: journeying to the self with Anaïs Nin's sensual, transgressive diaries.” The Conversation, 25 April 2022, https://theconversation.com/the-book-that-changed-me-journeying-to-the-self-with-ana-s-nins-sensual-transgressive-diaries-176135. Accessed 11 December 2023.

Maza, Sarah, and Paul Herron. “Swinging: The Double Life of Anaïs Nin.” Public Books, 19 February 2018, https://www.publicbooks.org/swinging-the-double-life-of-anais-nin/. Accessed 11 December 2023.

Nin, Anaïs. “Quotes from Henry and June: From "A Journal of Love"--The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin by Anaïs Nin.” BookQuoters, https://bookquoters.com/book/henry-and-june-from-a-journal-of-love-the-unexpurgated-diary-of-anais-nin. Accessed 11 December 2023.

Further Reading

#absurdism #french literature #academic aesthetic #academic writing #dark academia #academia #albert camus #academia aesthetic #english major #french #anais nin #delta of venus #diary #writeblogging #literature blog

[80s4life]

No Time For ‘What If’s?’*

Word Count: 5,096

Status: Requested!

Ask: can I get a SFW/NSFW whatever. Cobra Kai John Kreese x f! reader student (who's 20+ and not in highschool) who sometimes looks at him a certain way but always looks depressed and Kreese took notice... {There's more, but I'm not giving away all the goodies}

@: @harlequinautumn​

Summary: I decided to make this somewhat of a song inspired prompt. This is based off of the song "Daddy Issues" by The Neighborhood. I think you can see where this us going...

Warnings: some angst, fluff, smut, dd/lg type of energy, age-gap, master/sensei/daddy kink, teacher/student kink, READER is in her 20′s, self-consciousness, self-hate, uncomfortable with body issues, appearance, etc.

Masterlist Karate Kid Masterlist Cobra Kai Masterlist

{Gifs are not mine, credits go to @sensei-venus & @danlarussc​}

Had to put this last gif here because GRAND DADDY...

Scribbling in the notebook, you try to hide the blush on your face with the final thought you write into it. ‘He touched my arm during practice to help me keep my balance. His hand was warm and comforting, yet strong and held the promise of security,’ you smile. It’s childish, you know that, but unlike most of the kids in Reseda, Kreese, or better known as Master Kreese in your diary, was a man. He held a great promise with his status and a stern maturity in his movements and emotions. 

What’s more, he can manage to keep it in his pants, to both your comfort and frustration.

You look up, feeling his eyes on you and your smile instantly drops into a numb pout. You’ve loved him for as long as you could remember. It wasn’t your fault however, as it was never planned. 

He was your Sensei in the beginning, knowledgeable and strong, stoic with knowledge. Somehow, you’d find as the more time you’d spent in his class and in the higher rankings, you grew tired of his teachings and more interested in him as a person. He kept his personal life private and away from public eyes - most certainly the cool teacher you could sneak into a bar or eat at a fast food restaurant with just to hang out. Soon your innocent interest had faded into something carnal, sinful. There was nothing you could do to stop the mind of a young adult, much less one that still held the feelings of her teenage years.

He made you feel like that little 15 year old girl every time he looked at you, unable to see his feelings through any aspect of his body. You could never tell if he was scrutinizing you or just plainly looking. 

“Break’s over guys. Back to the mats!” he commands, eyes sliding from yours to encase the room through a tactical sweep.

Clasping the tiny lock through its metal bearing, you lock your diary with a click and shove it into your drawstring back, hurriedly shuffling back onto the mats to endure your next beating.

After about an hour of endless training without any breaks, Kreese glanced at the watch embracing his veined, muscular wrist, checking the time. Without a word, the class is ordered to do another set of push-ups before he calls it a day. 

Huffing, you grab your tiny towel and lay it across your shoulders, using one of the ends to dab at your forehead. The boys pat you on your back as they start to gather their things, some heading to the showers to wash up quickly, others complaining about the homework they haven’t gotten to yet.

“God am I glad I don’t have to do that shit anymore,” you murmur, giggling as you could hear Tommy groan.

“Can I give you a call later, Y/N? Help me go over my essay for Mr. Whees?” Johnny asks, breathy and miserable.

“Sure Johnny Boy, but you’ll owe me an ice cream cone next time we head to the beach.”

“Sweet! Deal!” he punches your shoulder, speeding out of the dojo to get a headstart on finishing said writing that’s due tomorrow morning.

Giggling, you wave your goodbyes to some of the other guys as you grab your bag, walking slowly towards the showers, feeling the extent of your workout in your calves and knees. Stopping just short of the room, you peer into Kreese’s office, “Sensei?”

“Y/L/N,” he answers, the rumble of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m gonna head to the showers. It’s going to be a while, so if you need me to lock up, I can.”

“No, you’re fine, Y/L/N. I’ll be working on some paperwork for a while also.”

“Okay, thanks,” you blush, a small smile spreading on your lips as you slink off of the doorframe and continue your way to the showers. 

In your drunken haze of lust, you had seemed to miss Kreese’s eyes slip to your bag, shiny pink diary having poked through the jagged holes in the old drawstring bag. He couldn’t help his curiosity, having taken notice to your attachment to the small object, always writing, always peering over its covers to see if anyone was watching. It was peculiar, and though he had been caught a few times, your reaction and apparent nervousness is what made him want to know exactly what was in that book.

Hearing as the soft hums of pleasure radiates with the heat of the streaming water, Kreese keeps a close eye on where your book lied, checking to see if any of the boys were left in the dojo. Walking towards the chairs at the front of the dojo - where you had last left your drawstring bag - Kreese closes the blinds of the dojo; the appearance of it being closed a small comfort and reassurance of another day spent and gone. No one else will try to come back in, no one will bother him.

He turns to leave and go back to his office, but his feet won’t carry him. Peering down at the loose drawstring bag, pink book still peeking out of its covers, he debates whether or not he should satiate his curiosity or infiltrate your personal space. Choosing the latter, he pulls the book slowly as to not mess with the bag’s positioning too much.

Walking back to his office, he leaves the door open a crack, the sound of the shower humming prompting him to see what’s been eating at him. What has been making you look so enthralled and sad at the same time. What’s been making you so mysterious. 

Kreese almost doesn’t even want to open the book. He knows everything about his students, but you? You’re a mystery. A chase. He almost doesn’t want the high of the cat and mouse game to end. However, he just rolls his shoulders, prying the key to the lock from the bindings you had not-so-subtly tried to hide.

‘Silly Girl. So mature yet so naive,’ he thinks, unlocking the small metal that kept him from his answers.

Leaning back in his chair, he props his feet on his desk, opening the book at last. Shuffling through some pages, he comes to find this pink book as your diary. Delving deeper, he flips through some random pages, the headers and dates catching his eyes and honing in.

January 21st: The Reckoning

This date isn’t far different from any other day, just a date. However, the header is what piques his interest.

‘Another day at the dojo. Another array of cuts and bruises. Johnny and the boys are just finishing their first year as freshmen in highschool and I’m stuck here. 22, young, single, graduated, andddd no life plan ahead of me. I realized that my interest in Sensei Kreese is starting to feel different. I no longer want to know about him, I want to know everything. What type of coffee he likes, if he even likes coffee, what he does in his freetime, what does he like most in a partner? Ugh.’

January 22nd: The Realization

‘Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT! Rereading what I was feeling yesterday and watching it bloom tenfold has finally made me come to my senses. 8 years of practicing with this man and I finally catch whiff of what my so-called “interest” was and I finally come to my senses now? “Stupid Girl” as Kreese would say. Stupid Girl is right!’

A bemused smile perches on Kreese’s lips. It’s like high school all over again, and he’s the center focus. He flips a few pages more.

February 3: Valentines Sluts

‘February has just came around and so has my birthday. However, I keep seeming to find myself going into a Valentines craze. Almost as bad as high school. I stared at Master Kreese for a while during break today (thank God we got one). He was wearing his signature black gi with yellow accents, his arms string with veins of hard labor drawn into them. His hair was a bit scruffier and his eyes were a tired blue. God, how I could get lost in them. My eyes trailed down a bit though. Sorry...not sorry. I used an excuse that I rolled my ankle and needed to rest for a bit, but I only ended up watching him. How he helped the boys stretch and train. He worked so hard that his skin turn a light shade of red, sweat droplets sliding down his forehead to his cheekbones, jaw, down his neck, on his collar bones, and sadly, disappeared down his shirt. Oh what I would give to be that droplet of sweat. Almost as exciting as it would be if I could get him that riled up. Happy almost Valentines Day *winky face with heart eyes drawn on the side of page*’

Kreese lets out a low whistle, chuckling a bit. Suddenly, things were getting steamy. He’s a bit surprised by your diary; such a pristine, put together, grown woman, and here you are, displaying your thoughts like a horny teenager. 

Skipping through more dates, Kreese finds more and more sinful readings, something small turning much greater. However, there were undertones of regret, sadness, and...lack of self worth. Not only have the thoughts gotten increasingly dirtier, but they also grew more insecure and sad. And, as the dates grew closer to present day, it seemed that all confidence and harmless thinking were starting to take a toll. You were no longer happy with yourself, however, you kept writing all your fantasies as if they would make you feel any better.

Finally, Kreese nears the end of your diary. 

Today: Confusion

‘Again, I found myself staring at him. Again, I snuck away to write about him not even 10 feet away. And, again, I find myself no closer and so much farther away from the man I thought I was getting to know. I’m 25 now and still have the mental and physical strength of the lowly 14 year old that met him in high school. I’m starting to fear I will never get to tell him how I feel. Never get to live and explore. Never be enough for him. I almost got caught writing about him today and I couldn’t care less. If anything,  maybe it would be a gateway to romance? Those hot scenarios I’ve built up, gotten off to, and scribbled down in these old pagers. But, those are all just more scenarios and fantasies never lived. Maybe it’s time to move on.’

You go on to think of your past, future, and present, and how any of it was either worth or waste of time. He wants to keep reading - wants to delve deep into your wondrous mind.

He didn’t hear the shower stop, too caught up in the insecurity you call yourself.

“Sensei?” your light voice calls out, hair damp and pinned in a clip. Rugged jeans with rips, converse, and a white cropped tee with black sleeves adorning your delicate features. Your brows are furrowed, a mixture of confusion, loss, and fear flashing in your E/C orbs; rounded by the initial surprise and emotions that cross you in such an unexpected predicament. “W-What are you doing?”

For a moment, Kreese just sits, book still open with the presence of his thumb on the page he’s left off on. He’s silent, studying you as he recounts all that he’s read from your book and more. “Reading your diary,” he states plainly, obviously. Truthfully.

You crumble on the spot, wanting to dig a hole and die in it. “Where’d you find it? Wait - How’d you unlock it?” you all but screech, going straight for your bag. 

Kreese slings out of his chair and around his desk instantly, catching your wrist in the middle of the dojo. 

“What are you doing, Sensei? Can’t you see I’m already embarrassed enough? You’re just making it worse-”

“Is all of this true?” he asks, holding the book up, now closed. His thub no longer holding his place. ‘Shit,’ he thinks, shaking his head.

“It’s a diary, isn’t it?” you try to lighten the mood, scratching the back of your neck and nodding to the front cover plainly stating, ‘DIARY’.

“Yes, but everything inside?”

“Every page, every day, for the past 8 years.” You figure it’s time to come clean, no matter the consequences. This has gone on for long enough, and by the looks of it, he’s not too mad at you. Or happy, or sad. In fact, now that you look at it, he looks as if he feels nothing.

You take a step back, your hand limply being allowed out of its hold, and briskly walk for your bag. Just as you go to walk for the door this time, the same warm, calloused hand wraps itself around your much tinier wrist, yanking you back the other direction. “Sensei, please,” you beg, “Just let me go home! I’ll never bother you again, and you can forget all about this ordeal. It’s really not that big of a deal!”

Pulling you through to his office, he turns and locks the door with a key. To ensure your inability to get out, he takes the key and places it in his front jean pocket and sits down on his side of the desk. Motioning for you to follow his lead, you just stand there.

Almost annoyed, he states, “Well, I’m not going to tell you again,” pointing to the chair opposite him.

Eyes rounded, you stare blankly from his face to the chair and back again. ‘Is he serious?’

Sitting down, you watch in horror as Kreese opens the book back up again, finding a specific page in your novelty of recountments. “Ah, here it is,” he chuckles.

Reading the page out loud, he starts with the header:

“June 11th: Midnight Blues

‘I took some time alone today. It seems everyday is getting harder and harder. Not only am I trying to finish my senior year, but I’m trying to find my way - my path. Sitting on the hood of my car, somewhere tucked behind the Hollywood sign (my hiding spot), I looked up and watched the stars and tried to get my plans in order. 

Mom wants me to go to college in Charleston, SC with her, but Dad wants me to stay somewhere close and doesn’t care if I go to college or not. Mom’s got family down South, Dad has just me. Both are choices I don’t want to make; I don’t want to hurt either or’s feelings.

Then there’s Kreese. God how I love him. If I were to choose to leave or which parent, it would be a choice solely on where he will be or how he feels. But, then again, what does he feel? I mean, he would never look at a little girl like me. It’s disgusting, though I’m legal, and a big inconvenience. A little girl following a man who has seen all parts of the world with her tail wagging and eyes bugging out of her head at the sight of him. He’s grown, experienced, and independent. He would look for someone way older than me for sure. It’s only right, given they would share similar aspects to him. 

No one ever looks at me. And neither will he.’”

“Ring a bell?” he asks, finishing off the page.

“It was the end of senior year and there was a whole ton of shit going on. I don’t remember much, i-it was 4 years ago. All I remember was being diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression sometime afterwards. Though, if I can add to that, I’d had it for years, but neither mom nor dad wanted to get me examined since I was 14. It was a shitshow that summer.”

“Do you really think such heinous things of yourself?” he asks, brows furrowing as he stands, looping around the desk slowly as he assesses you.

“Yes. There’s always been that little voice in the back of my head...” you trail off, fingers interlocking and fiddling to try and ease said stress, eyes locking with his in a trance. 

“Where do you get that shit from?” he almost snarls, making you bow your head in shame. “Ah. Ah. I want to see those pretty eyes.”

“Why’s you read that page to me?”

“I wanted you to feel exactly as you felt then and try to sum up your thoughts and emotions. You see, I study you, and now, I’ve read you. Those feelings were never resolved...Why do you hate yourself so much, Babygirl?”

“I-I.” you stutter, trying to form some sort of answer. “I’ve never sought the validation I’ve needed.”

“And, why not?” he asks, arms splayed behind him and hands propping him up as he leans on his desk before you. Staring down at you.

“Because the only person I’ve ever needed validation from was you.” This time, you stand to meet his level, “I’ve never cared for what my parents thought because they only cared to one-up each other with me as their weapon. I never sought the validation of teachers because they only said what would get them more money in the end - once again, using me. I never sought validation from the girls or the guys at school because I’ve always been the odd one out. The only person I’ve ever sought validation from was you. You because you treated me as equal with the rest of the boys. You saw something in me that made me feel like I shined like a brand new corvette. So, you tell me: why have you always done that, knowing damn well I could’ve gone without it?” You got so close to him that you hadn’t realized the inches between you two, breath heavy with the long-held exasperation. 

“That,” he points at you, “That fire. You’ve always had it. You shined through everyone else and paved your own way without making any noise, or causing any destruction. You’re a strong, beautiful force that somehow has managed to fall over and over again, yet always got back up and never sought anyone’s help.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you’ve finally heard what you’ve always waited for. He’s watched you all along, guided you. He’s ensured your safety since he had met you - 14 years old, scared, weak, and hopeless. You thought you’d never get out of that shithole you were stuck in, but you had Kreese.

Sniffling you couldn’t help your actions, hand grasping his black T-shirt and pulling him in. Your other hand goes for his cheek, cupping it and pulling him down to your height. Slowly, you allow yourself the reprieve of almost a decade with this man, lips just hardly touching each other. You’re waiting - waiting for him to turn his back and pull away, but it doesn’t come. 

His huge hands grasp your waist to pull you in close, one hand leaving your hip to brace the back of your head, connecting his lips to yours. He pulls you as close as he can, your body getting up to straddle him on his desk, his arms crushing you chest to chest.

Your tears mix in to your kiss, the salty droplets of water mixing with the dancing of your tongues and you feel him squeeze. You grab at his shoulder, neck, chest, and soon grasp the hairs at the nape of his neck tenderly; starved for the attention and connection you’ve wished for ever since your teenage years.

He happily obliges, his own hand tangling in your hair at the base of your head and yanking it back - not hard, but strong enough to make you gasp at the excitement, sudden movement, and slight pain it had caused. His lips are on your neck now, suckling and licking at the coloumn of it, growling like a crazed animal about to eat its next meal.

You moan out, the action causing you to gasp again, eyes wide and mortified.

You can feel his cheshire grin on your neck, suckling a huge hickey into your collar bone with pride. Pulling back, he takes a good look at you, breathless, chest bouncing at the force of it, straddling his hips with your slimmer, toned ones - both from young age and practicing in the dojo. 

His hands move from you head and back down to lay on your hips, “Tell me how you want me to take you. Or should I look at one of your excerpts? Hm?” he teases, hazely green eyes turning to dark, mossy embers.

“I’m sure you’ve read enough,” you tease back, breathing out with defeat and humor.

“I can think of something,” he assures.

Standing up, his hands supporting your weight by your thighs, he loops around the desk, placing you to sit on it. Slowly, he traces your thighs, then your hips, waist, outline of your breasts, collar bone to your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your eyes are glued to him, his arm slipping from your hand back up to the sleeves of your T-shirt, tugging at them, signaling for you to lift your arms.

He pulls your shirt off slowly, tantalizingly, taunting you as it is lifted over your head and thrown to the floor. He sucks in a breath, the sight of you leaving him silent. No words were spoken, but his lips were on your once more, forcefully taking you in like it’s his last time. ‘Impossible.’

Unbuttoning your jeans, he helps you off the desk to shimmy out of them, pulling you close to him once they’re thrown somewhere, too. He kisses in between your thighs, one for each, going to trace up your stomach. You stop him. 

Looking at him with uncertainty, you’re hit with embarrassment and uncertainty.

“What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

“It’s not you... I-It’s me.”

Deeply, he searches your eyes, already knowing the answer but searching for the confirmation. Sighing, he places a knuckle under your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet his. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, you’re gorgeous, Baby Girl.”

You still look at him hesitantly, which causes him to sigh again.

“Let me show you what I see,” he smirks, a softness in his eyes that tells you there’s nothing to be scared of. Just as he had throughout your highschool years: the drama, bullying, home life, and all.

You nod, hands grasping both sides of his face and pulling him in, kissing him sweetly. He whimpers a little bit, hoping you wouldn’t catch it, but you did. It ignites a fire deep within your gut.

He teases you, a finger sliding your underwear over to the side, fingers playing with your clit. You suck in a deep breath, back arching as you support your weight behind you, on your hands. His hands lays on your sternum, pushing you down further until your resting on your elbows.

Refusing to be pulled down, you sit back up, allowing him to play with you while you attempt to lift his shirt above his head, shakily. He watches you with amused eyes, liking the struggle your body portrays under the heat of his pleasure. He allows you to fumble around a bit more before he helps you out, lifting the bottom of his shirt and taking it off over his head. Hands going back to what they were doing prior.

Your eyes are glued to him, drinking him in as the fire burns brighter and hotter within your core. Greedily, you go for his belt, able to take it off with want and newfound strength as you grow more impatient.

You can hear him chuckle under his breath, pressing you back down by the sternum again, helping finish your goal. He removes the belt with one hand, pulling you off the desk and forcing you to face it. Taking the belt, he ties it around your wrists, tucking it into a drawer like a leash, too thick and sturdy to be able to pull it back out. 

Whining, you look at him over your shoulder, begging him with your eyes.

“You’ve been a bad girl. Good girls don't get tied if they do as they’re told. You keep moving without permission, so I had to limit you. Now. If you use your words, you’ll get what you want.”

You moan in frustration, head spinning back to lay against the desk, arching your back and attempting to wiggle your ass against his crotch. But, to your disapproval, he takes a step back, watching you squirm.

You groan again, giving in, “Please, just fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Pulling your panties down to your ankles, Kreese teases and taunts you with a finger, sliding it through your folds and occasionally at your entrance, but as quickly as the finger is there, it’s off and somewhere else less needy. 

“Goddammit! Fuck me, please!!” you grit out, growing antzy and frustrated with your head laid against the hardwood. If you weren’t tied down to the fucking desk, you’d take matters into your own hands by now.

He yanks your hair by the back of your head, pulling you up, the back of your head against his shoulder. His mouth nips your earlobe, whispering, “I’d watch your tone if you want me to give you what you want.”

“Yes, Master,” you grit out, smiling as you feel his whole body grow still.

Letting go of your hair instantly, his pushes your head down into the desk, taking his member in one hand as the other makes sure you are fully prepared. Without warning, he plunges in about halfway, giving you time to adjust, although surprised by the intrusion. 

You groan loudly, your voice echoing off the desk with force. You can feel him shake with pleasure within you, a loud, breathy moan releasing from his lips. Nodding your head weakly, he starts to set a pace within you, making sure he’s arched enough to tease your G-spot. 

You moan again, hands clutching the vice he’s got you trapped in. “Say it again,” he yells, starting to thrust deeper, the pleasure building.

He’s starting to go off the edge quickly, but you can’t let him. Not yet. “Untie me first,” you order plainly, refusing to give him what he wants just yet. “It’s my turn.”

He shuckles with a little annoyance, but otherwise pulls out, slightly shoving you out of the way so he can quickly untie the belt. Because of the force he’d given you at a simple command, you decide to give him just as much of a hard time. 

Once untied, you turn to face him, a sultry smile on your face, a devilish look in your eye. Using the same force he had applied, you shove him into his desk chair, forcing him to sit when the chair hits the back of his knees. Slowly, you go to straddle his hips, your raises above him, teasing him. 

“Masters aren’t supposed to be so mean if they are promised to get what they want, are they?”

“N-No,” he stutters, the change in demeanor so delicious to soak in. You have him wrapped around your little finger.

“’No’, what?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Good enough,” you giggle, grinding down into him, bottoming out inside of you.

He whimpers out again, the sound music to your ears. Slowly you set a pace, his hands coming down to grasp your hips and help you grind in perfect tandem. Together, you bounce, while he charges up to meet you, slowly grinding you forward and backwards a bit, too. The motion makes you gasp, the perfect mixture of friction and being full of him. You moan out, your hands laying on top of his tightly as you feel the edge creeping slowly.

“Call me again,” he groans out, head leaning back onto the headrest of the chair. 

“Look me in the eyes.”

Doing as you asked, he looks at you fully, a bit of heat rising to the surface and making him a tint of red from the chest up. A sheen of sweat covers the both of you, making you both shine in the dim lighting of the room. “Master.”

His head throws back into the shair again, his thrusts intensifying in speed and force. You whine out, grabbing his biceps now, nails digging. “Master, make me finish. Please.”

His hands dig into your hips, forcing your body down as he charges faster, the chair squeaking. Your moans get louder and louder, more frequent with the force applies. “I-I’m gonna cum,” you warn, too close to wait for permission.

Just as you feel the tight knot snap, you’re filled with his warm seed, one hand moving from your hip to yank your hair again, his lips capturing the colum of your neck as he bites down, a deep growl releasing as he fills your with his potential kids.

You ride your high until there’s nothing left, jumping at the overstimulation or any contact at all. Finally releasing his hold, his hands lay on your thighs as yours rest on his shoulders, catching your breath. 

You giggle, opening your eyes after a moment to look at him. You kiss his lips sweetly, a grin on his face as well as he admires you. “I love you, Kreese. Always have.”

He chuckles as he tucks your head in the crook of his neck, hands rubbing your back, fingers playing with the clasp of your bra. “I love you, too, Y/L/N.”

“Y/N.”

“John.”

“John,” you mimic.

“Y/N,” he copies, chuckling as he plays with your hair.

“’February 14th: Valentines Day’,” Kreese recounts the page he had engraved in his head. That was one of your dirtiest of fantasies.

You gasp, swatting his shoulder as your cheeks burn with the reminder, “You Devil!”

May 28th: When Two Hearts Intertwined.

#John Kreese #john kreese imagine #john kreese x reader #John Kreese smut #john kreese x you #kreese x reader #kreese imagine #kreese #karate kid #karate kid x reader #karate kid imagine #kk1 #kk2 #kk3 #cc1 #cc2 #cc3 #cc4 #cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai imagine

[amanda-melly]

Good omens - some more of my headcanon and thoughts on the possibility of Aziraphale checking Crowley's records in Heaven while Crowley reads Aziraphale's diaries in the bookshop

(This is just my opinion)

A lot of people are saying that in season 3, while they are separated, Aziraphale may go through Crowley's records in Heaven while Crowley reads Aziraphale's diaries. It would help them understand each other and have no more secrets... BUT.

You know that doing stuff like secretly stalking your (potential) partner, or checking their phone or emails without consent is just plain TOXIC, right? It's not romantic. It's abusive.

The diary / records idea, under certain circumstances, COULD provide for some beautiful scenes of them finally understanding each other's world view, yes, but...

I have a hard time figuring out the ethical issues of each one of them digging into each other's past without permission. I don't know if there is a way of justifying this, but unless it's done with a clear and reasonable ethical justification I think it could send the wrong message to the audience.

Were this to happen while they're separated, it'd be pretty messed up, especially if Aziraphale digs into Crowley's past. I don't know if Aziraphale ever voiced if he's OK with Crowley reading his diaries. However...

When it comes to Crowley's files in heaven, it's relatively safe to assume that it's not only that Crowley had the opportunity to clarify if he has a problem if Aziraphale discovers his past one day.

It seems to me that Crowley has made it clear that he doesn't want to talk about it, and that Crowley would be offended if Aziraphale was to dig it up and check the files behind his back. He would feel betrayed, exposed, violated.

And yes they're both morally grey throughout the story in some extent. I'm not saying that Aziraphale and Crowley are above digging into each other's private things without consent.

So I'm not even talking about what Aziraphale and Crowley are capable of doing. I'm saying that i think the Good Omens series is very careful when it comes to the models of healthy and toxic relationships it shows to the public. So far the series has been perfect in this aspect. It never sugarcoats a toxic relationship as "romantic" (like for example Edward and Bella in twilight and Edward doing things no romantic interest should do without the other person's consent "but it's OK because it's love" and "oh deep down Bella liked it" or whatever. Those are bad examples that teach people the wrong notion of consent).

The series made the excellent choice of having Nina and Maggie step up to Crowley (and Aziraphale, if he was there) about their relationship and how they're not puppets to be manipulated in their games. And how it doesn't matter how much you'd like them to be happily in love by then, Nina is going through a breakup and you shouldn't jump into a new relationship before you're gotten over the previous one. It's a bucket of ice, a beautiful, brilliant, healthy bucket of ice. It speaks of autonomy, boundaries, and respect for your (potential) partner and for yourself in your romantic endeavours.

I don't think the good omens show will allow for Aziraphale and Crowley, its main couple, its main romantic "model", to behave in ways that could be perceived as toxic in relationships. So I don't think they'll just dig each other's past while they're separated, not unless there is a very, very good reason that would make it morally justifiable.

TL;DR I don't think good omens will show Aziraphale and Crowley doing the equivalent of "someone checking their partner's phones in secret, without consent and against their will" because it's just a messed up message to the audience.

#neil gaiman #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #Crowley #consent #let there be healthy relationships #dont be a stalker #good omens #records and diaries

[liyawritesss]

ᖴᒪOᗯEᖇᔕ Iᑎ ᗷᒪOOᗰ - ᐯᗩᒪEᑎTIᑎEᔕ ᗪᖇᗩᗷᗷᒪEᔕ

Ｄａｙ ２８ － Ｓｏｆｔ Ｌａｕｎｃｈ

－ A Picture Worth Posting - Kaleb Hawkins - The Vampire Diaries: Legacies

－ In which you and Kaleb finally decide to make your relationship public, and just about all your friends at the Salvatore school go haywire.

－ Check out more prompts and other activities on the Flowers In Bloom Event Masterlist!

Having a private relationship had its perks - the increased intimacy from the privacy that came with it all, the little snickers shared between the two of you that no one else would ever know the reason why. The delight and slight adrenaline that came with being the kind of couple that never flaunted your relationship status around like a trophy, and instead kept it on the down low, was an aspect that you and Kaleb treasured, because it worked out for the both of you.

No one knew that you and Kaleb were dating, and to be quite honest, if it wasn’t for the curiosity within yourself to find out how the people around you would react, you would’ve kept it that way. You’d dropped hints to your respective friend groups that you were seeing someone; albeit very vaguely, with talks that surrounded dating that would come up, or who had crushes on who, or who Lizzie had an eye for this time (because she always had an eye out for the new, particularly cute students that rolled in every semester). Yet, none of your friends seemed to pick up the fact that the both of you were dating, much less, dating each other.

“Let’s do it,” Kaleb says one late night in the study hall, pushing the curfew limit enforced by Alaric due to a last minute test neither of you had studied for, “what could go wrong?”

“You just wanna be nosy,” you snickered, but you couldn’t blame him; so did a part of you.

The agreement was to take a picture right then and there, the kind where it only showed a part of the other person's body. In this case, it was a part of Kaleb’s arm, showing the pretty dark skin of his that glowed under the dim warm lighting of the library, also capturing the bracelet on his wrist - one that people knew he wore frequently, but never who gave it to him.

His picture was of the book he was flipping through in the forefront, but the background showed just below your neck, displaying the shirt and cardigan you were wearing that day, a pairing that many people complimented you on. He wanted to do cheesy, matching captions that would go with the pictures you’d post on your stories, and with that killer smile of his, how could you deny him?

The captions read: “a little more than just a study buddy”.

What made it more entertaining is that after they were posted, you decided to put your phones on do not disturb for the rest of the evening. Seeing the reactions of your friends would wait til the morning; so the both of you returned to studying for your test…just barely.

But when the morning came…boy, were your phones on a non-stop buzzing spree. Deciding to see each other before class, you both shared the vigorous reactions you’d gotten from your friends on your soft-launch.

“Apparently, Hope has been shipping us since the beginning,” Kaleb chuckles as he holds you on his lap, his hand resting on your thigh, “which shocks me, considering that girl’s belief in love is about as small as an acorn. If anything, I thought Lizzie would be the one on that.”

“Be lucky there isn’t a group chat for you guys,” you told him, “I woke up to fifty messages, everyone was spamming me about how I could keep something like this from them.”

“Wasn’t like we were hiding!” Kaleb argues. “You need more observant friends.”

You playfully hit him on his chest, just as the bell for class rings. You press a kiss to his cheek, bidding him farewell, as you prepare yourself to walk into the same classroom some of your friends were in, as you were sure they would bombard you with a number of questions about your relationship that they just found out about. You tried not to laugh to yourself at the anticipation of their physical reactions.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

#flowersinbloom🏵 #black reader #black tumblr #tvdu #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries universe #tvd legacies #legacies tvd #legacies #legacies x reader #legacies kaleb #kaleb hawkins #kaleb hawkins legacies #kaleb hawkins x reader #kaleb hawkins x black!reader

[crunchycrystals]

every book i read in september 2023

i did in fact bring this back because i thought it would be fun and all my followers should know that before everything, i am a book nerd. i genuinely think i only feel like i'm alive when i'm reading regularly. no spoilers for any of the books i talk about because i can only have one cut per post

before i get into the books here's some general info on reading stuff this month. so i read 9 books which i'm really proud of myself for after being in a reading slump for ages. i was still reading then but i really was not enjoying myself nearly as much as i was in previous months and i'm really enjoying myself now. 5 of the books i read were physical copies of them, 1 was an ebook, and 3 were audiobooks. my average rating was 4.29/5 and read a total of 13.78 hours on audiobook and 2476 of pages shout out to storygraph for all this info i am telling you use storygraph if you want to track your reading its so great

the cruel prince. i really liked this surprisingly??? the worldbuilding was great and i loved all the political aspects of it. jude was a really interesting main character and i had a lot of fun with the story (especially the plot twist/s, no i'm not saying if there's more than one). i liveblogged a couple parts of the entire series this month so you can check my tfota tag for more in depth thoughts

the lost sisters. it was pretty interesting to see the plot of the cruel prince from the perspective of a different character but i didn't think much about my enjoyment of it since i was just reading it for more info on the series lol

captain stone's revenge. so i went on a nancy drew diaries binge once and i've been keeping up with the series ever since then just because, and i had a hold on this book for like 2 months at the library and i finished it in a day lol. it's a short book and definitely not as good as other books in the series but yk it wasn't awful still had fun reading

we are okay. this is one of my favorite books and i cried for 40 minutes straight as i finished the last like 50-80 pages. it's a really great exploration of different kinds of grief that are complicated and how it affects people. i posted while reading it "every chapter there's something that makes me take psychic damage" which was very fun but also deeply painful (in a fun way most of the time, sometimes i was in public trying not to cry). the ending is so hopeful it made me cry for a different reason why i was crying for the past 35ish minutes. it's a great book i highly recommend it it's only like 230 pages.

the wicked king. sequel to the cruel prince, i also really enjoyed this but i don't think i enjoyed it as much as the cruel prince. still well written though and i have more in depth thoughts under my tfota and/or reading commentary tags

queen of nothing. 100% my favorite from the trilogy i loved it i thought the characters and plot in this one were all super great and i loved the ending especially. i do have more detailed thoughts that i wrote down for me personally but this is a no spoilers section so i won't share it unless someone asks

cress. this is the 3rd book in the lunar chronicles series and aaaaaaa i loved this so much i had so much fun reading it i love the alternating povs and how they all end up clashing with the dramatic irony in that one scene i loved kai's povs i wanted to keep reading constantly i love these characters so much go read the lunar chronicles please

chalice of the gods. uhhh so i finished this in less than 12 hours i liveblogged it all i really enjoyed it you can see my thoughts there go check it out (cotg or reading commentary tag). a lot of cringe moments (WHY does he mention boomers so much) but i am choosing not to see it i only see percabeth and percy grover friendship content again and i enjoyed reading it

daisy jones and the six. i listened to this on audiobook and it was incredibleeeeeeee the voice actors were amazing it was so entertaining. another taylor jenkins reid book about the drama between famous people and it was very entertaining to read about. stressful at times but overall i liked it. once again there are some notes in the reading commentary tag

i also started winter this month but i am definitely finishing it in october so i don't count it lol

#crunchyposts #books #monthly wrap up #<- in case i end up doing this again

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

I really loved your kind anon's post about solo harries not engaging with Harry's lyrics in any serious way, and your response. Engaging with Harry seriously as an artist is actually how I became a Larrie, because once I started looking at his lyrics and his themes it all felt so obvious and in your face, the shared themes, the conversation, the closeting, even the gender identity of it all.

And one thing that is, I think, 100% on Harry's team is the way that their approach to his promo completely disrespects and erases the intellectual and the artist in Harry, in ways that make me profoundly sad. Like, the RS article having throwaway lines about Haruomi Hosono and Harry's interest in architecture but devoting time instead to his personal life. Or the LNT MV having at least 3 really obvious readily identifiable art references, and the entire public narrative being "lol pillow fight orgy" (and don't say it's just because he's a pop star, the media gave Kanye credit for the Vincent Desiderio reference). Or Watermelon Sugar being constantly reduced to that one quote about "the female orgasm" and just "a book laying around" instead of any opportunity to actually talk about Richard Brautigan. I even have a pet theory that part of his inspiration for Harry's House (just based on the way he talks about it as a concept) is drawn from Klara and the Sun. But all of that is constantly erased from his art.

oooh kind anon i love this convo :') and yeah i agree. it's - as always - a multitude of reasons as to why he's reduced to bite-sized infobits, but at the core of it all is a disregard for harry's artistic measure. like yes, the media works that way so a headline can sell. yes, harry himself is terrified of looking pretentious so he sweeps his interests under the rug too. yes, they want to make him accessible to as many people as possible by oversimplifying him and his work. there are unavoidable aspects to it all, bc humans stereotype and simplify almost everything they can as a natural reflex, and you can't really write an article in a popular magazine about all possible intricacies of his lyrics and references.

BUT THEN. an article can still be simple and refreshing. bite-size and smart. informative and respectful. i think this recent article was lazy, and followed the mindless herd's feelings and opinions on harry. was it rolling stone or a tabloid bc.....?! i get it, they are instructed by harry's team to insert the stunt in there. it's all part of the intentional closeting. but talk about his private life overtook the article imo, despite his clear unwillingness to share. why isn't rolling stone interested in his writing process? in his inspirations? in his artistic rituals? in the lyrics he's most proud of? most of what was said about his art was something we already knew. you can't tell me he has questions about everything involving his art blacklisted lol.

and i know it's also me and my tested relationship with this kind of journalism. the 'observer' who goes on an adventure with harry and writes a diary entry about it. with vogue it was done right, here it went wrong. why isn't there any simple objectivity in the articles written about harry? why do i have to hear the journalist's personal reading of his outfit and character? just ask him real questions and write down the answers. and i know that even when he lies, or tries to make his way around personal question, there's still something interesting in there for us to figure out. but i'm also over it. how was that super short video interview recently where he got gifts and reacted to them the best content we've gotten from him in recent times like... yeah. i know i'm fed up and it won't lead anywhere but ig it was good to let it out

#kind anon #thank you #love anons like these <3

[septembersghost]

you know absolutely nothing will happen to anyone behind this movie. no bad review will ruin this for them. ana was seen as a serious actor before and now it's even more so for portraying such an important person + everyone behind that movie is too powerful + the public actually enjoys torture porn and sexual abuse in films because you know they feel they can enjoy it openly because it's not actual porn~~~~~

every time i see it mentioned as oscar bait, i feel the seething anger course through my veins. and here's the thing - i'm not opposed to sensitive depictions of abuse. several fictional characters i love are sa survivors and their narratives have aspects of that affecting them, and i don't expect fiction to pretend it never happens. it's a theme i do often try to personally avoid, but when it's handled thoughtfully and centers that character's personhood and recovery, then it can be important, though of course that is always up to an individual viewer, and no victim should ever be expected to watch something that depicts it if it's triggering (as is true of any topic). but that's not what's happening here - it's as you called it, torture porn. there's no hope for marilyn, only endless suffering. it's taking the image of this very real woman and exploiting her further and painfully degrading her, and pretending that's somehow...honoring her? absolutely not. there's nothing excusable in that. as far as we know, marilyn was never r*ped in hollywood (the sa we do know of happened in childhood), and in fact she did her best to guard herself, which is why she commented about never being "kept," about being her own. joe dimaggio physically lashing out at her ended their marriage. furthermore, in her diaries, she wrote about not enjoying sex particularly at ALL, even though she also expressed positivity about sensuality/sexuality and about that informing art. she was complex, and, as any human, very shaped by her experiences, her trauma, and the society around her. there are so many potential interesting, worthwhile avenues to take in telling marilyn's story, and instead they chose the most appallingly harmful, derivative portrait of her, one which isn't even real, one which is deliberately destructive and violent. it's just gross exploitation for the sake of it.

and then ana is like:

she KNOWS the graphic scenes will be taken out of context and used as fodder for people to get off on it, and yet defers all responsibility in that depiction...like i said before, my ire mostly goes to the director and producers (and pages' book itself), but...seriously? her comments like this and going to the grave for ~permission~ and talking about marilyn's ghost on set, none of it sits well.

marilyn is special to me, so this hits close in a way that is particularly upsetting, but there's no context or reason that makes something like this, which is basically the nastiest and most triggering form of rpf brought to life onscreen and excused as "art," regardless of respect for the legacy of the real woman or concern about the audience, valuable or necessary. it's just trampling her all over again, and potentially traumatizing viewers too. so yeah, it infuriates me for every possible reason, and i am so sorry to marilyn, to you, to everyone potentially upset by it.

#anonymous #letterbox #blonde #blonde 2022

[mer-se]

(Part 1) Hey! I love your photos and blog so much that I’m anonymously embarrassing myself here. Thing is do you have any tips when starting out? Having my work be seen etc. I don’t have a big platform. When did you start your photography work? Hey I know that I’m on anon so that is a contraction but my page and work is far from ready but I’ll messge you off anon when it is..

I appreciate that so much thank you. I’m not sure I started taking pictures in like early middle school days, maybe even earlier. My dad took a lot of film photos when he was younger and did all that dark room stuff, he has boxes of pictures and I think it’s cute that I can see similar styles in his photos and mine. I think it’s always just been in me. I was the friend taking pictures of everyone at every after/school event (I have some veryyyyy old photo albums it’s cool to look back on because I’m like damn I was the same person back then haha) I had (and broke) several digital cameras as a kid/preteen) but I didn’t get my first dslr until I think 2007?

I had my first film camera gifted to me during this time, too. Which is a whole other love. I immediately started advertising myself on Craigslist (idk how I’m alive) and did a few jewelry/portrait/wedding/engagements shoots as a teen and that was pretty cool and huge for my age and experience level looking back. I’m like damn, I did pretty well for myself as a dumb 17/18 yr old. I’m trying to work my way back into that now actually, slowly this time though. Bless all those people who gave me a shot and believed in lil ol me then. Lots of cool memories from that time period but it’s wild to me that I did that.

Anyway. I’m not sure on tips aside from ones that are personal to me because I don’t know what kind of photography you’re into? One of mine is like don’t take ten pictures of the same thing because it’ll make you have a mental breakdown when all of them are good but subtly different and you can’t pick one - but that’s me - I also have ocd and that helps nothing. When starting out that’s probably a good idea though to learn angles and lighting. Take pictures of everything. Learn your own personal style, everyone’s is different even if it’s similar, we all see different things. Learn your camera, learn about lighting and how to edit eventually. If you want to shoot people there’s a huge social aspect so you can work on that. There’s things I don’t even know after 100 years because the technical side doesn’t rly do it for me, I just run on intuition and vibes. We’re all always learning still. Its ok! I don’t have a large platform either especially on here, half my followers are deactivated - it’s dying out on here and I also won’t be on here eventually all together. But if you’re talking about notes/likes I’d suggest tagging your pictures! I find it kinda embarrassing but it’s necessary if that’s what you’re after.

That’s something I actually struggle with because I don’t worry about that stuff much, especially on here. I’ve never cared about that sort of validation, tumblr and instagram even facebook have always been just a photo diary to me - everything’s a diary haha. Even if it seems I overshare I’m really actually not? I’m super private and things make me uncomfortable. (I don’t share my writing either..) Notes are never why I post or even take photos it’s all very personal to me, there’s a deep private love there for me that I can’t put into words but! It’s ok to care and when you want to switch over to working with the public and getting back/into freelance photography (which I do, and maybe you will too someday) advertising is absolutely important, it’s hard for someone like me that finds it extremely cringe to self promote/overly tag everything because that’s never been my vibe or why I do it but I’m slowly working on it because I have to - it’s sort of a large mental obstacle for me. But don’t worry about that right now. Don’t get caught up on things like that honestly, it doesn’t mean anything. If people see and appreciate your pictures that’s lovely but there’s tons of reasons why you may not get notes that mean nothing to the quality of your pics. I see posts circulate with 10000 notes of a blurry eyeball and see an incredible picture of something with 5 notes. On tumblr notes mean nothing, don’t let it influence anything. You’re just starting out and your work is for you right now, and in my opinion it always should be in a way. Give it time. I post way more on my Instagram than here and my account is private, like I said I’m working on that aspect myself still haha. I am working on a different account though and slowly a website! So yes keep at it, and yes tag away, can even pin your posts even if it feels embarrassing - not everyone sees it that way, promise.

Don’t stress just do your thing. Find other photographers on here. But I wouldn’t really worry about tumblr too much, there’s other and better sites to get your work seen.

#this is stupid long #and sorry it took a couple days I’ve been a bit unplugged from the interwebs

[whenlifegivesyousparklingwater]

Thursday, March 21, 2024

Dear Public Diary,

This may be the first and only time I post on this blog, but I shall post regardless, if for nothing else other than shits and giggles. I recently came across a friend who made a public diary via Tumblr, and I thought it was a fun idea. Is it a good idea? I don't know. But I have never claimed to be a wise person. No one will see this anyway.

I started reading Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo yesterday, and I am a quarter of the way through. Something that has been on my mind recently (not necessarily related to the specific book I am reading) is that I want representation in the books I read. This wasn't something that had concerned me too much as a teenager, digesting 2010s dystopian fiction daily, but something has changed as I have grown older.

When I was younger, growing up in such a predominantly White town and facing so much racism wherever I went, I did not want to be reminded of my Asian heritage. I was in denial. I read fiction to draw myself outside of the aspects of reality that haunted me wherever I went. This applied to the characters I read about as well. I wanted to be something I was not. I loved the now-problematic books where the main female character is "not like the other girls" or "the chosen one." I wanted to feel special in a way that was not alienating but a way that was an asset and a reason for beauty and purpose.

I will not go into the nitty gritty aspects of why the "not like the other girls" trope is harmful. [I now do research on prejudice and systematic discrimination, so I am relatively aware.] But in my case, I wasn't like the other girls within a two-hour radius, and that was an undeniable fact of my life. Saying I was just like the other girls seemed like an erasure of what it meant to not just be an Asian person but an Asian woman who faced unique discrimination, at the intersection of racial and gender minorities. [Minority here in the sense that it is a non-dominant identity.] Hating my existence, I wanted a metaphorical, abstract consolation that it is okay to be different and an acknowledgment that there was, indeed, something different. I didn't want anything close enough to reality that I had to grapple with the systemic issues underlying the bitterness that overwhelmed me when i was not distracted with books.

As a college student in a predominantly White institution, I just want representation. I want a heartwarming book where I can be the main character. For once, I want to be the romantic lead, not the White girl with White girl problems. Books have been underwhelming to me these days, even besides that. It's difficult to read books for fun these days. For one, the books romanticize what is so clearly abusive and toxic. I have so much to say about that alone, but I will not go into that today. Secondly, I read a lot daily for my four philosophy classes, and that 1) is exhausting and 2) has exponentially increased my critical thinking skills. Also, I have read so many books in my teen years that no plot-driven book can surprise me. I do like reading literary fiction, but I have recently been wanting to escape reality. Perhaps this means that I should evaluate why I want to escape reality so badly these days, but that's for another day. These kinds of reality-escaping books tend to be plot-driven.

That is all to say, would it be so wrong for me to replace a main character with myself in a mindless romance book? Just for once, I want the character to have dark brown eyes that are nearing black, a round face that she is constantly trying to hide with her hair, a too-low nose bridge that requires custom glasses that leave little imprints if she takes them off, and eyelashes that you can only see if she closes her eyes. I want her to be told that she is beautiful too.

Yours truly,

RCH

#public diary #dear diary #journal #personal blog #journaling

[tomyo]

It needs to be understood if I’m venting on here, it is me making a diary of my emotional process (ie I am processing the feeling and not the full situation). There is a limited amount of personal information going into interpersonal relationships that I want to dish out on a still public platform so I’m not going to give fully detailed nuances. When I’m saying I am craving the social contract of a partner [to fill in for found family dynamics], it is in part me saying “I sometimes need support that is tangible not just emotional.”. It can sound materialistic but at the same time it feels somewhat stressful to not reliably be able to ask someone to stay at their place, be to ask for help getting somewhere if I don’t have a car, or be able to cover for me. I don’t INTEND to ask people for these things but it sucks knowing that I had felt these elements of stability more when I did not live in CT. I had someone to come with me to the clinic (should of been the hospital) when I cut my hand open, I could stay at a friends apartment if I was locked out or in a bad fight with a previous roommate, I had people willing to transport me to cons so I didn’t have to or when I didn’t have a car. Sometimes emotional support cannot remove the mental burden.

And by like extension, the reason why I keep mentioning a partner is usually that comes with some level of wanting cohabitation??? Like it is obviously easier to manage as household as a functioning couple rather than as a single person. I’m slightly annoyed that it’s happened more than once someone has said “your expectation of a relationship doesn’t sound right” when I’m not trying to describe a healthy relationship, I’m trying to process honest feelings and the emotional root of them. In the social hierarchy of our society, friendships are a broad range of a bond type and that vagueness does not have the same expectations as a relationship. It is considered morally wrong to end a relationship without a formal withdrawal from it but cutting off or ghosting a friendship is not as taboo. Higher levels of support are not a given expectation in friendships. “I need to go to be taken to the hospital” for instance is a situation where a family member or a romantic partner (who is put on a similar level from the expectation they will one day be legally family) is 100% expected to prioritize that issue but is only under specific circumstances expected of a friendship (ex. I am going to die if you don’t). Now this is somewhat of a different experience for me in queer circles and how found families develop but I cannot emphasize enough that is not the same in CT. Living outside of New England and going places across the country, I know for a fact there are cultural differences within the US people don’t even realize. Like it’s a partial joke the northwest is full of mean people but I cannot understate that CT is a spoken bond culture. I cannot understate how unaffectionate CT is compared to other states. I cried early on from the difference in platonic affection. Ngl just absolutely triggered when I’m treated like I’m just saying “a relationship would fix everything.” When I’m not. I’m saying that I know what type of platonic relationships I like and I’m reaching dead ends when I’ve tried to build those so it feels like I’m in a place where I need to seek a relationship to get it.

If I could be so real right now, I do not have enough fingers and toes for the amount of times I’ve been MPDG’d and you become so hyper aware of the shift in attitude people give you when they want you to fulfill something for them whether they know it or not. It is not just cishet men even if it is commonly them and is not even always romantic. ‘Sparkling eyes’ is the best way to put it when they see an aspect of you that they want to bask in. It’s taking basic friendship as jump at love, it is building the idea you’ll be best friends within a week of knowing you, its expecting me to be your yesman or token gay who says you’re approved, it’s overvaluing their traits in a way like they expect me to change their life. I am not a blood bag, I’m a person. I don’t feel people always respect that I am a person. Potentially if I have a fucked up idea of relationships it’s in part all the fucked up ways people have treated a relationship with me. If I think in black and white it’s because people kept ignoring my boundaries when I said I wasn’t interested and burned into me that I’ve lot a friend the moment they tell me they like me. I’ve been coerced, I’ve been stalked, and it makes it hard not to value when people value me a little less. Like again it hits that people really think they aren’t being weird but I see the breadcrumbs and I’m always fucking right. If I’m always in a position where others are waiting to get something off of me on their conditions then yes, I highly desire the social structure where I’m expected something in return whether it’s fucked up or not.

#tomyo says shit #mental health #did not want to do this directly because it feels more targeted if I do #slightly annoyed knowing this would occur when I made that last post #it’s also just the thing where like #people think you’re on even ground when you’re not #not necessarily directed at the person that led me to making this #because like I’m also still salty that a whole half year of trying to flirt #led to being made the bad guy when I moved on #I’m tired of everyone expecting me to go with their terms with no pushback #and I know I’m guilty of similar practices #but some shit is not the same #vent #fr triggered rn

[groundlevelcliff]

There have always been about three video game ideas I've wanted to develop at any given time. I've thought about it, talked about it, written and drawn about it - I've even researched a LOT about it. Any article or video or post or wiki about sprite art, level design, gameplay loops, different engines and how they work...the old 'tism makes copious amounts of research a breeze, but the ADHD has always made the actual doing a bit difficult.

But, I'm tired of sitting. Most of my "dream projects" are extremely doable - things a more experienced developer could slap out in a game jam. No MMOs or sweeping open worlds, just little dudes puttering around to tell a story. It's possible! I could do it! So, my New Year's resolution this year was to create one video game in its entirety (or, at least, make pretty damn good headway on one). When I told my partner that, she said "if anyone can make a game through sheer force of will, it's you." I know it's kind of a couple's job to gas each other up, but that really stuck with me. I usually dislike people having expectations of me but, if anything, her saying that has made me more stubborn and determined than ever. If a vague, sweeping promise and the desire to uphold the honesty of a lesbian don't get me moving, what will?

One of my friends from college recently gifted me RPG Maker MV. I had a much older version of RPG Maker collecting dust somewhere, but receiving this was the tipping point that made me actually boot up a program and get down to business. I've had plans for one of those "rpg maker indie horror" kind of games for a couple years now; I think it'd be the simplest and most engine-suitable project to start with. I'm not very good with code - I nearly failed Intro to Programming in college, a class that was so "easy" that they didn't offer tutoring for it - but I doubt I'll need to do any extra legwork for wacky mechanics that aren't supported natively. My real bread and butter is screenwriting and art. With luck, the low level of technical skill required for this will allow those two aspects to shine the most.

As for this blog...to be honest with you, I find social media stressful at best and terrifying at worst. Which sucks for an artist, right?? To find any success as an artist these days, you have to also fill the roles of social media manager, charismatic influencer, and interactive (vaguely parasocial) content creator. I'm plenty friendly, but I'm not all that organized, and talking to strangers online has me default to extremely formal masking in a way that quickly becomes exhausting. I once ran one of those headcanon imagine blogs and loved the creative writing, but burnt out due to how intensely "professional" and polite I treated responses to even the most shitpost asks.

Buuut, I do like writing, and I like being able to go back and see previous work as proof that I know what I'm doing at least half the time. Seeing what other people say can be fun too! I often don't talk much about personal projects unless it's with my girlfriend or someone who is actively paying me to make something, but I like having a dedicated space to do so that won't be construed as hogging the conversation, or only talking about my own shit. By treating this more like a public diary than a billboard for advertising myself as a product, I believe I could stick with it and become more comfortable with being "seen".

In any case, that's likely more than long enough for the first post. Next time I'll talk a bit more about the project itself and what I'm actually doing with it.

#i am not going to tag these until i have something interesting for people to look at #like graphics or characters or something #until then it is purely a record of how far along i've gotten! #i doubt this post will be seen but if you're autistic and feel similarly about social media please give me a holler!

[focusandrelaxforme]

Documenting My Subject's Hypno Slavery Journey (Part 5)

Some notes:

- At the end of today's entry, I had KittySub talk about what her long-term goals and wants are. For me, personally, I'm primarily focused on a few things in the intermediate; first is her health. Keeping her motivated and adhering to her diet and exercise regiment is not only going to help her by keeping her physically healthy, but should also have knock on mental health benefits as well. Secondly, improving the depth and quality of her trances. Unfortunately, the last couple days, and the next few days are difficult in terms of finding enough time to do this. My plan is for some fractionation, probably intermixed with some progressive relaxation, but these do take time that we don't always have. Regardless, we shall soldier forward and continue to make her the best slave she can be, both in mind and body.

Anyways, that's enough from me. Here's the part you're all really here for:

--------

Dear Diary,

Today started out like every day this week.. I woke up with my pussy feeling empty and aching. I instantly rolled over and slid my lush back inside me and messaged my Master good morning. He had more plans for me than usual though. Usually I find myself scrambling all over before work, but I found myself with a bit extra time. Master took advantage of that. Using the time to put me under and train my mind more for him . I have to tell him exactly how deep I am when he outs me to sleep .and I must sleep instantly...even if it is mid conversation. He also decided today he would show me how obedient I have become. He instructed me to removed my lush and slide in my dildo. He then convinced me that wearing a dildo would be perfectly fine for the day...and I wouldn't feel it at all...and he repeatedly told me how good it is to obey.. and I felt myself craving the dildo inside me...and thinking how good it feels to be even more filled for him. But deep in the back of my brain.. my inner kittysub was screaming.. omg no.. haha. Could you imagine walking all day with a large dildo pressed inside you. I am starting to think i need to add to my growing dildo collection before I have this large dildo pressed inside me at work. Is that a health risk Master? I don't know . But I do know Master cares greatly for my health.

Anyway.. back to my story, thankfully after fully convincing me that I would be the most obedient slave to ever exist.. cough. Lol.. and I would wear my dildo all day for him.. he sweetly told me to go remove it and put my lush back in. .but not without giving me a nice fucking and orgasm with my dildo. Mmm.. that is such a nice way to start your day!

Then I was settled in at work later this morning.. I was having anxiety and thoughts about an upcoming trip I have...where I will be forced to do a lot of tough adulting.. I informed Master about my trip and told him I would have 4 days around family.. so we might need to be creative. Then I proceeded to ask if a lush could go through airport security. Oh my was that a mistake. Hehe. Master gave me lots of other options for my plane trip.. my dildo pressed inside me, an anal plug, a dildo gag under a mask.. or a combination of all 3. What nice choices. I started to panic a bit. He sounded quite serious. Its hard to read my Masters humor though. Was/ is he joking?? I really must research smaller dildos. Can they see dildos on the x-ray? 😳😳 I realized I might cry from the public humiliation of having a dildo pressed inside me through security. Master then calmed me.. telling me how great it would feel to obey.. and what a good slave I am.. and how much pleasure I would get if I just obey. He told me I would be soo happy to obey.. and instantly turned into a puddle in his hands. Master is making me want to worship him. What has this slave got herself into.. and why does it excite me so much to be such a good girl.

I am really enjoyed our lovely conversations too.. not just the dirty aspects of our relationship. I can sense Masters care towards me...even though he doesn't always show his affection. I know he wouldn't wish anything bad on me.

He's asked me to talk about my long term goals.. and quite honestly.. they are mostly just to feel confident in my own skin. Just being his slave and knowing i have someone looking out for me has helped me greatly. I already feel more confident. But I look forward to being able to buy some smaller clothes, feel relaxed in stores and public places.. and I want to be treated better by people.. and I would love to tell my family to kiss my butt. Haha. That's terrible. But true.

Another long term goal I have . Is that I have always wanted to be collared. I know to some..it doesn't mean much .but to me it seems so exciting and like you have found a connection. Yes I am married...but I am poly.. is it bad to want that? I just want to be able to look down or touch myself and feel like I am owned fully and wanted. Its stupid probably. But a goal nonetheless. Anyway.. I'm sure I've said entirely too much now. I feel as though I have no filter when I write these diary entries. I have to be so honest and vulnerable. Its scary yet so rewarding to be my Masters slave.

Xoxo

Master's sometimes sassy...but really a good girl...slave 🙂

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#hypno girl #hypno journal #hypnokink #hypnotized girl #irlhypnosis #kittysub #hypnosis

[kaesileigh]

I so often feel so alone

in how I see the world

In how I’m feeling and what I need.  

I recount the times that I’ve tried to share these intimate and very vulnerable pieces of my inner world with people--even people who love and care about me deeply, but who (on the most innocuous end) couldn’t understand or support or (on the most traumatic end) reacted negatively--rejected me, ghosted me, used these things against me.

There are things that have stuck with me from experiences over the years...

I had an ex who read a diary.  I had recounted an incident that had happened to me in a park in San Diego.  He later wanted to fuck me in a public place and when I expressed my discomfort with this, he became angry (in the quiet, psychopathic way) and manipulative saying I’d “let someone do this to me before”; he wanted to have the same access.  (That was the tip of the iceberg with him). This is when it came to light a. that he had invaded my privacy and b. what a fucking bastard he was.  Although, it took years to untangle that attachment and, in some ways, the process of healing is ongoing. 

I was involved intimately with someone who could not meet me emotionally in the vulnerable space of sharing our inner world.  We were both broken.  Badly.  In retrospect, he was responding from his own trauma.  We actually met in and bonded in our individual deeply traumatic spaces...which created this unique (addictive) intimacy -- which I have come to realize was more illusion of depth and connection (or maybe this is the narrative that I’ve landed on in order to accept and better cope with the pain of loss)...We hurt each other.  I was deeply hurt by his checking out in the midst of my sharing my vulnerabilities and needing emotional support.  My way of coping with this --suppress it in attempt to maintain the superficial connection...resulting in outbursts of “truth” (with very sharp and aggressive language) in moments of anxiety or intoxication.  Patterns that created more and more of a chasm between us...our connection--a manifestation of natures’ inevitable evolution--everything deteriorates, alchemizes, death and rebirth...forest fires--nature’s way of regenerating through death and destruction.  Ultimately leading to the present where, after months of trying to navigate a friendship, we are no longer connected in any way.  There are levels of grief.

Very recently I was talking with a guy who, in all first impressions and deductions based on social media inquiry is far from aligned with my soul-being...yet triggered my enjoyment of attention and desire for sexual empowerment and exploration.  (Holy run-on sentence)...I have a tendency to operate in extremes--working on living and dancing in that middle-ground.  I test the waters (by waters I mean him) by seeing how he responds to my “neuroses” (the things that freak people out, my intensity...even though I recognize that even the most capable and decent people often don’t respond well to bombardment...most are more receptive to gradual introduction...but then that gets into the territory of how we modify and moderate and “tame” our personalities to better suite the masses...but in doing this, are we actually limiting/preventing the attraction of and manifestation of the better-aligned because they are the ones who are drawn to that intensity?  Another bit of shadow discovery--I do the EXACT things/react in the exact ways that I find so hurtful when people come at me with the energy that I’ve just described.  Aint that some irony.  I shut down.  Or ghost/avoid.  There’s something that repels me.  Like it instantly kills the attraction.  And perhaps because this is my experience when confronted with that energy in another person, I assume that everyone will react that way to me.  And also, because I respond that way, there must be a part of me that rejects these aspects of myself.  

How do I heal that?  

And, I suppose, until I heal that, I will continue to reject [arguably] some of the most important aspects of myself and thus prevent the attraction of people who will accept these aspects.  Or at least keep people at a “safe” distance.

I remember thinking for most of my adult life that I was incapable of forming deep connections--of getting close to people.  I didn’t know how.  I was in a pattern of such self-rejection and loathing that I couldn’t fathom letting people into that inner-world.  And the people who I actually let in, further solidified that this landscape was grotesque and shameful.  Why did I choose THOSE people to let in?  We accept the love we think we deserve?  

In enneagram speak, I am recognizing the deep sense of inadequacy from 4, my core type.  I recognize the perfectionistic, fixation on what is wrong and needs to be fixed from my 1 arrow.  The manipulation in order to get affection, attention and “love” from my 2 arrow.  

I desire to live in a space of deep love and acceptance of myself.  I noticed this morning as I was walking into the grocery store, I was hyper-aware of how “frumpy” I looked--I was rolling in fresh out of bed to get some cream for my coffee.  And was struck by how often it’s my experience to be living in the “not enough” energy.  In constant comparisons.  That’s a 4 tendency as well--everyone is superior or inferior...

I’ve tired myself out.  

Time to get out of my head and into my body

[jjamboard]

WARNING: LONG POST, using Tumblr as a diary, mentions of HRT, dysphoria, suicidal thoughts, dead dove etc

I can't believe that I've already been on T for 8 months! For context, I take 2 pumps of T gel daily, and it's been going really well according to my blood tests.

Looking back, it's like I was barely even a person before. I didn't recognize myself in the mirror, couldn't speak out loud to anyone without feeling insecure, etc etc. I didn't go anywhere or do anything, barely even spoke to my friends, just had no motivation to exist at all. I feel like I spent years of my life walking around in a haze, analysing every single facet of my appearance and personality and voice and hobbies,, and now I just don't? I treat myself better, I eat better, sleep better, I even process my emotions better.

For me, taking Testosterone hasn't really been about gender euphoria (even though there have definitely been some big moments here and there), but instead about a lack of dysphoria. I feel so comfortable in myself and the way I am seen. There are of course still things that bother me and things I hope to change in the future (looking at you, big naturals!), but the level of confidence and self assurance has been literally life-changing. I don't even think about if a guy would do this or if I sound girly or whatever, I'm just some dude living his life and nobody can say or do anything to change that. I feel normal.

I'm very lucky in that I got a lot of the easily noticeable physical changes quite early, it only took a week for my voice to start lowering, and I got the beginnings of a wispy stasche within a month or so. It hasn't grown much since, but what I have is visible enough that other people take notice and treat me accordingly. Other changes like body hair have been good, though they won't be getting shown off any time soon. Though it's too late for me to get any taller, my other transition goals are being met very well and I have no regrets.

For me, the payoff of starting T was instant! I haven't been misgendered by a stranger in public in about half a year now, not even by confused elderly people, and even medical professionals have been taking me seriously and using the right name and pronouns. It's also nice to not be mistaken for a 12yo Most of the time, though my height doesn't help with that.

And the mental changes too! While the external validation from strangers is good, really good, the way I think about myself is SO much more important. It's like a switch was flipped from the moment I took that first dose. Even when I do experience dysphoria, it's like it can't reach me the same way it could before- it throws me off guard for a second, then I move on. No more agonising over interactions or fearing what people might say or do. Instead of weeks or months spent paralysed by my own negative thoughts, it's a minute or two before I talk myself up again and start feeling better. And when something does bother me, I'm reminded that most guys feel insecure about their facial hair or their height sometimes, and it suddenly feels less like me being an outsider and more like participating in the aspects of puberty I missed out on the first time. It almost feels good to get insecure, like "I'm thinking about normal manly things!" Performative masculinity aside, the amount of free time I have now I'm far less preoccupied with myself is astounding.

A Disclaimer: I know that HRT isn't necessary for being trans, and that many people can't take it for many reasons, and that some don't even want to. I am not invalidating those people's experiences, but for me personally I can say without a doubt that it has been the best and most important step in my transitioning. No amount of positive thinking or talk therapy or external validation from friends and loved ones or Tumblr posts calling me 'valid' made me feel any better about myself deep down. Honestly, I didn't expect T to do that either- but it has. I don't want to discourage those who aren't in a position to take HRT by saying this, everyone is different and transition goals are different for everyone, this is just my own personal experience. I was severely actively suicidal as a teen before starting HRT, and it was only when I gained the financial means to begin the process that this started to improve. I couldn't see a future for myself as anything other than a man, and I couldn't see myself ever growing into a body or life I could tolerate without medical intervention. Actually beginning hormone therapy was the turning point when I stopped enduring life and started actually living it.

I can't help but feel a little bitter that I never got to have this growing up, but I'm still so grateful that I get to have it now. Even so, I wish I could grab that lil guy and just shake him and shout "IT WILL GET BETTER! I PROMISE!", Because even a year ago I could hardly see myself tolerating who I was, let alone being genuinely comfortable and happy with where I am at this point in my life. But I am. I can confidently say that I haven't been this happy since I was 6. I struggled so much as a teen and before that I had incredibly low self esteem as a kid. After coming to terms with my identity I knew why, but it never really went away. Socially transitioning was a great step for me, but HRT has been something so private and intimate. It's like finally getting that one toy that everyone else had as a kid years later, and realising that it's just as cool as you pictured it.

While I'll always mourn those years I lost to my own confused self hatred, now I get to meet myself all over again, and the more I reveal of myself, the more I like the man hidden underneath.

#vent #tw dysphoria #tw suicidal thoughts #trans #transgender #trans man #progress #transitioning #this is kinda cheesy #sorry not sorry #this is not an invitation to harass me or anyone else

[bewitchingbooktours]

Edge by Susan Mac Nicol- Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza

What does Christmas- the season of goodwill - mean to me?

In the words of Natalie Imbruglia, I’m a little torn. There’s good and bad aspects. I’m going to tackle them both. I love the vibe and hype of the season, shopping for presents for people and seeing all those sparkly lights. I’m not religious so Christmas for me has never been about Jesus or anything remotely biblical.

Christmas for me is the shiny season. It’s the vibrancy of coloured lights and tinsel. It’s the silky sheen of wrapping paper and the twinkle of baubles on the tree, the smell of spruce, and orange chocolate, and mulled wine. It’s a sensual time when everything meshes together into a festive package of scents and sights that stirs the senses and brings families and friends together. It’s a time for kindness, when soup kitchens are manned by volunteers willing to give up their time to contribute to making someone’s else life a little bit happier for a while. It’s also the time you can get your own back on grumpy Aunt Mabel, who insists on giving you socks each year. The dildo you bought for her will go down a treat. She may even find a unique use for it, ‘stirring’ the Yorkshire pudding mix perhaps. *sniggers*

It’s also the time of a high suicide rate, a plethora of homeless people on the streets, watching with jaundiced eyes as those more fortunate than them strolled past in laughter and merry cheer, while carting presents that would probably have bought a week’s shelter and food for one of these street people. This season is a time of extremes-—one parent buying their kid a Ferrari or a football team, another just managing to scrape together enough money to buy their child a football or a toy truck; of one-upping the Joneses, of making sure things are bigger and better than the other person’s offerings.

So, like a piece of tinfoil, there’s a dull and shiny side to the season. It’s a pity we can’t find it within ourselves to bring the season of goodwill to all men to people the whole year around instead of just a few short-lived days. That as a species we can’t simply adopt an attitude of love and acceptance to all mankind as we work together to keep this world of ours from spiralling into decay.

In the true spirit of giving, why not buy a homeless person a cup of coffee. Drag out those old blankets you have in the cupboard, give them a wash and let the people suffering the cold have them. Donate to a deserving charity,like one that teaches people about respecting diversity. Show a starving pet some kindness.You don’t have to give much - just a little.

http://www.akt.org.uk/2/spg357/albert-kennedy-trust-helping-young-lgbt-people/can-you-help/donating.aspx

https://give.thetrevorproject.org/checkout/donation?eid=63307

www.crisis.org.uk

Edge

Susan Mac Nicol

Genre:  M/M Rockstar Contemporary Romance

Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group Ltd

Date of Publication:  Feb 7th 2022

ISBN:978-1-957295-05-3

ASIN:  B09RZM617P

Number of pages:  221

Word Count: 65000

Cover Artist: Boroughs Group Publishing

Tagline:    Words cost nothing to write but sometimes, they lead to heartbreak and tragedy.

Book Description: 

Since he was young, Jory Longstone has been keeping a diary to catalogue his exploits, which helps inspire his music. He finds solace in managing his complicated life through the written word, which he never intended for anyone else to read.

Until one man did, and he now controls Jory's life.

While his band's star is rising, Jory remains trapped and ashamed - closed off from emotional attachments for fear of discovery.

And then he meets Damian Foyle, manager of his family-owned cinema, a place where Jory loves to hide and relax. The antithesis of a rockstar, Damian loves his martial arts classes, tinkering with motor parts, and the simple life.

Damian's first meeting with Jory is just shy of a disaster, and yeah, the second one isn't all that great either.

Jory is annoying, sexy as hell, temperamental, and one helluva rock god in tight trousers. It's all Damian can do not to burn up in the heat of the man's fiery personality.

But getting close to his heart is another thing altogether, and Damian won't settle for anything less.

Amazon     Books2Read

About the Author:

Bringing lovers together, one book at a time…

Susan writes steamy, sexy and fun contemporary romance stories, some suspenseful, some gritty and dark and hopefully always entertaining. 

She’s also Editor in Chief at Divine Magazine, an online LGBTQ e-zine, and a member of The Society of Authors, the Writers Guild of Great Britain, and the Authors Guild in the US. Susan is an award-winning script writer, with scripts based on two of her own published works. Sight Unseen has garnered no less than ten awards to date and her TV pilot, Reel Life, based on her debut novel, Cassandra by Starlight, was also a winner at the Oaxaca Film Fest. 

She loves going to the theatre, live music concerts (especially if it’s her man crush Adam Lambert or the divine Cumberbatch) walks in the countryside, a good G and T, lazing away afternoons reading a good book, and watching re-runs of Grimm.

https://www.authorsusanmacnicol.com

https://filmfreeway.com/SusanMacNicol

https://www.bookbub.com/profile/susan-mac-nicol

https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/o5g1i5 

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6472959.Susan_Mac_Nicol

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