#maybe i should stop posting this here but i have no other outlet really

[peach-and-bugs]

teen nat with “You look exhausted, you know that?” ?? (maybe pre-crash)

❤️Blame Game - Natalie Scatorccio (1996 pre-crash) x fem!Reader❤️

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

GIF by gayliennn

Summary: Natalie seeks refuge from the rain (and possibly comfort) after the death of her dad...

Warnings: canon themes: dead parents, spousal abuse, guns, general angst

Word Count: 2,539

A/N: Hello Lovelies! it's been a minute. I was so busy this past semester, but I'm now on summer break and I want to get back to work on my writing with requests for dialogue prompts with characters with Yellowjackets! here's my first dabble at writing for the fandom with pre-crash Natalie! I really hope you enjoy it, and as always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading ❤️

"Nat" Natalie Scatorccio Tag List:

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-❤️-

It had been raining for most of the afternoon by now, which you had found strange given the sun being so high when you'd left school. But the rain persisted into the night and you now found yourself sitting at your desk, scribbling away in your diary about your day and just general thought and feelings. You'd found that even when you had a mundane day, writing was still good. It helped keep up the habit for when you needed the outlet. 

You started to run out of things to say and instead began to chew at the eraser of your pencil. One of your cassettes played quietly in your walkmen, but you could still hear the rain’s muffled tapping on the roof over the song. However, as you moved to start scribbling again, maybe adding doodles to your entry instead of more words, your attention was caught by a different tapping. It was sporadic and out of tune with the rain and it paused as though some other element controlled it. 

Cautiously, you paused your song and listened. The tapping started again, clicking against the glass of your window. When there wa another pause you made your way over to it and opened it with caution. You paused again, licking your lips and biting your cheek. Why did this feel like the start of every slasher movie? Maybe youde watched those Halloween movies too many times. 

“Hey, y/n! That you?” a familiar voice broke through the rain. Without any more hesitation, your head poked out of the open window, hands gripping the windowsill as the rain began to wet your hair. 

“Nat?” you called in a whispery yell. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night?” thanks to your porch light you could see her fidgeting, hugging herself as she crumpled under the rain. She opened her mouth like she wanted to talk, but stopped herself. 

“Can I come up?” she said instead. You hesitated again, head going back inside as you checked the time. It was nearly one in the morning by now. Your father would be furious if he found out, but it was Nat after all, it was pouring and you knew she had to have walked here. You huffed, your brows knit as you nodded, ducking your head back into the house ans shutting the window behind you before running downstairs as quietly as you could. You quietly unlocked your front door, pausing after it clicked open to listen for the sound of any unexpected movement. When nothing turned up you opened the door just as Natalie stepped onto your front porch. 

“Be quiet and wipe your feet,” you insisted in a hushed voice, eyes already training on the staircase once more. You unconsciously took her hand tight and sprinted as quietly as you could up the stairs and ducked into your room, shutting it with the softest click you could mister. You shut your eyes, listening against the door for any sign you might have woken your parents, but once you felt it was all clear you relaxed with a sigh and turned back to look out on your room. 

“You didn’t have to let me up if I was gonna get you in trouble,” Natalie mumbled. She’d begun to fidget where she stood, her thumb stroking over the strap of her soaked backpack. She didn’t move from where she stood and seemed to avoid making eye contact with you or anything in the room for that matter. 

“It’s running outside and you’re soaked,” she shrugged, eyes turning down to her dripping shoes. 

“I don't wanna put you out’s all,” your eyes transfixed on her in the quiet. She didn’t look at you for any of it but in the short time you stood awkwardly in front of you you could tell something was wrong. You knew Nat well. Well, maybe not this Natalie specifically, but you knew the Natalie from middle school who had sleepovers at your house nearly every Saturday and loved playing board games with your family and stopping for secret ice cream with you on the way home from school. That all had been some time ago, but you knew her, and even with all that she’d hanged that Natalie was still in her. You saw her right then. 

“You doing ok? You seem off,” you inquired, slowly approaching her like she was a skittish dog. She looked up finally, slightly geared by the sudden proximity change, but she relaced as your reached for her fidgety hand. She let you take it, watching the tenderness in your motion. She hated being fragile. 

“My dad’s gone,” she breathed, biting her lower lip. She’d been doing it for a while now. The skin of it was dry and chapped, red from repeated tearing away at the layering resulting in a swollen tenderness. 

“I’m sorry. For good this time?” you weren't sure that was the right question to ask. Natalie’s dad always had a tendency to come and go, but given her demeanor either it was over or something else was going on. She sniffed heavily and let out a dry laugh as she jerked her eyes from you. 

“Yeah, well seeing he put a bullet in his head I’d say it’s for good,” she pressed her lips together, sucking her teeth at the bitter sting, and exhaled hard through her nose. She swallowed hard before she shakily turned her eyes back to you. She tisked at the expression on your face and felt your hand tighten around hers. “Fuck, I'm sorry, I shouldn't unload on you like that I-”

“Hey, no it’s ok. It’s fine. I’m sorry,” you reached and grabbed hold of her other hand ans squeezed tight, forcing an awkward smile. “Do you want clothes to change into? You’re sopping wet,” she shook her head but you tisked. 

“I'm getting you clothes ans you aren't arguing,” you turned from her and sauntered to your dresser, wrassling around in your drawers for anything comfortable for her to wear. Unbeknownst to you, Natalie was looking down at her hand, squeezing them into fists before she rubbed her sweaty palms against her jeans. She never liked clammy hands. You turned back to her eventually, shoving the pile of clothes in her hands. “Batheroom’s where it’s always been,” you pointed to the door that connected to your room.  

“And feel free to dry off with a towel. Are you spending the night?” you rushed most of what you said, adrenaline pumping through you at an alarming rate as you tried to keep your cool. Nat eventually nodded awkwardly and made her way to the bathroom. The click of the door allowed you to let go of the hot breath that had been boiling in your stomach. Her dad was gone? Like, gone, gone. That was a good thing, wasn’t it? Well, maybe not given how upset she seemed. You never would have thought of Nat to be the type to mourn her father, cruel as that may sound. And why had she come to your house of all places? She hadn’t talked to you in years. She’d gotten so committed to the soccer team that she’d moved away from you but here she was now, dropping the bomb that her dad had killed himself.

“You alright?” Nat opening the door and talking to you had pulled you out of your head. She’d dried her hair off with a towel and was now draping it over the floor to sit her bookbag on top of it to dry. Her brown hair was tousled and knotted from what you assumed had been her vigorous rubbing to dry off. She’d folded her clothes in a pile that she added next to her bookbag and stood awkwardly barefoot in a pair of old shorts and a baggy tee shirt that used to be your dad’s. 

“Yeah, I'm good,” you smiled, standing again. “You want some socks? The hardwood gets cold,” you said as you actively moved to grab a pair of fuzzy socks you'd gotten for Christmas from one of your drawers. You shoved them in her hands before she could decline. She held them for a moment, unmoving despite the gentle sway of her thumb over the cotton material before leaning over to put them on. As she did that you took her clothes and draped them over the footboard of your bed to air out. 

“Are you staying over?” you asked again. You knew if she said no you'd still keep her here. You didn't want to worry about her out in the rain again. 

“Only if that's alright,” you smiled with a single nod.

“Of course. It can be like before,” you chuckled, turning to adjust things on your bed. You might have caught the tiny flicker in Nat’s lips had you been looking. But you hadn’t and climbed into bed instead, shimmying under the covers to get comfortable. Nat slowly followed but lay on her back over the blankets, folding her hands on her chest. You only watched her for some time, not knowing what subject to broach, if any at all.  

“You look exhausted, you know that?” you eventually murmured. Nat turned her head to you and let out a warm sigh. Her eyes seemed sunken, bags growing dark under them. You wondered how much she’d been sleeping. 

“That kinda happens when-” she stopped herself abruptly. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No…” her voice lulled to a whisper as she paused. That pause felt like it lasted hours till she sniffled. “Maybe a little,” she swallowed thickly. You scooted in closer to her, reaching your hand out t her ever so lightly to wordlessly offer it to you. 

“It was my fault,” you shook your head. 

“Nat. you’re seventeen,” she sniffled loudly and quickly dried her tears just as they fell from her eyes. She didn’t look at you, her eyes transfixed up at your ceiling in a feeble attempt to keep herself together. 

“I grabbed the gun. He wouldn't have had it had I not,” 

“It’s not your fault,”

“He was beating on my mom again because I had a boy in my room,” frustrated disdain filled her tone. “And it’s not like anything was happening! I mean, it was just Kevyn,” she scoffed at his name. Unbeknownst to Natalie, you knew the boy had the biggest crush on her known to man. How she didn’t realize it baffled you, but that wasn’t relevant at the moment. 

“But I grabbed the gun. And I left the safety on and he took it from me and fucked around with it,”

“Natalie,” you kept your voice low. Her breathing had started to flair as she fully cried now. You took her hand, squeezing it tight. She didn’t look at you but unconsciously clenched both her fists around your fingers, and brought them to her chest, pressing it tight to her in some kind of attempt to ground yourself maybe. “Natalie, Who had the gun?” she managed to get out. She sniffled again. She would have called it pitiful, but you basked in the sound. Not in a weird way, but because she could trust you with this. She shook her head. 

“Did you shoot him?” her breath shook as she took a deep inhale.

“He did,” 

“So, who’s fault it that?” she turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut as she covered her mouth to suppress a sob. She let go of your hand and turned onto her side, leaving only her heaving shoulders in your view. You scooted out of bed, moving slowly behind her. She flinched as your fingertips made contact with her back, but you found she quickly relaxed under her touch as you began rubbing your hand in circles over the surface area. 

“Nat, it was his fault,” you murmured. She continued to cry, curled into a ball on the edge of your bed. You weren't even sure if she was hearing any of what you said, but you didn’t feel you should prioritize that. You stayed that way with her for a while, till you maneuvered onto your side, laying behind her and wrapping your arm around her instead of continuing to massage your back. You felt her take your hand again, bringing your fingers close to her face.  She seemed to bury her face in your hand in some feeble attempt at self-soothing. 

Eventually, she turned around in your arms and found herself up close and personal with you. Thanks to the dim light she prayed you wouldn't see the red in her cheeks burning from the sudden proximity. She let go of your hand quite abruptly. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, eyes darting away. You only smiled and nodded, scanning her puffy, tear-streaked face. Without giving it much thought, you reached forward, brushing loose, now dry hair from her face. Your fingertips skimmed over her forehead with a delicateness Nat couldn't find herself familiar with. 

“You look exhausted, you know that?” she shrugged but locked into your gaze. 

“I’ve always been like that,” she forced a chuckle but found you frowning. You thumbed away leftover tears from her eyes ans found your hand lingering. When you noticed you made the motion of pulling away from her but she grabbed your hand, holding it where it was. She bit her bottom lip, her brows knitting with overwhelming consideration till she hissed out the words “fuck it” and leaned it. 

She’d let go of your hand in exchange for the back of your neck, which fit quite comfortably against the flat of her palm. She’d shut her eyes hard and had kind of clumsily crashed into you, definitely taking you by surprise. For a second it was quite startling, but you didn’t panic or pull away. But once you got over the shock, you relaxed into her, smiling against her lips, which given their chapped nature left a metallic taste against your tongue. 

You’re hand, which had been hovering above the covers after being abandoned slowly settled on Natalie’s hip as you shut your eyes and you felt her exhale through her nose as the air flittered against your cheek. Yet, just as fast as she’d moved in she was done, leaving your lips to chase after her. Her eyes were wide and blown when you opened yours again and she seemed to have a grimace on her face. 

“Shit, was I that bad?” you sucked in a breath through your teeth. Her grimace subsided and she shook her head, now looking confused. 

“No. I was more so waiting for you to be pissed with me,” she admitted. You smiled and laughed quietly. 

“Why would I be mad?”

“I dunno, I kinda just did it and I didn’t ask-”

“Didn’t ask if I liked girls?” 

“Do you?” she chuckled again, scooting closer to her. 

I dunno, I might. I mean, I might at least like one girl,”

“That's so fucking corny,” Natalie finally smiled, letting go of a laugh in her throat. 

“Yeah, but I got you to smile finally,” you squeezed her hip. “I consider that a win in my book,”

#fanfiction requests #fic request #◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ kay's at it again♡ #yellowjackets requests #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfic #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader

[writing-for-life]

Writing Is The Loneliest Art...

A couple of days ago, this piece of art with a Neil Gaiman quote flickered across my desktop, and it made me think, so longish post about writing, mental health and human connection ahead..

The actual quote says:

The hardest part of being a writer is that you get lonely. It's just you and the stuff in your head and nobody else can do it for you.

I used to be a performer. I spent a good 10 years of my life in theatres and on stage. That can be lonely, too, but in very different ways. You find a "family" for a short while, and then the show is over, and you all disperse to heaven-knows-where again. Some of these friendships last, others don't, but even the ones that do are hard to maintain because of the nature of the job (if you a very lucky, your paths may cross again for another show).

But the difference, to me, was that I had a physical outlet. That's also stressful in many ways, and being a performer is hard and emotionally taxing (plus, the industry sometimes makes you want to vomit). But it is a very different feeling to channel creative energy into something that is physical.

When I write, I only have the words in my head and the blank page; if I am lucky, the words will come out in a way that stops the page from being blank. And although I wrote "Writing Is The Loneliest Art" as a headline, I imagine this must be quite similar for visual/graphic artists.

I was a writer before I was a performer. I came back to my first love, and I wouldn't want it any other way. Writing always was, and still is, the most truthful form of creative expression for me. I am also lucky enough not to have to earn an income with it (although I do) because I have a job that takes care of that (and thankfully one that comes in handy for character development and world building). But it is very easy to become trapped in your head and thoughts, to stop engaging with the life that is out there. And that life is important--for inspiration, for self-care, for human connection. To break these connections, knowingly or unknowingly, is a real issue for many writers. If I am not careful, it happens to me, too. I have a family, and I am constantly teetering on the edge of spending time in my head or with the blank page when I should be present with them. I can snap myself out of it, but it is not always easy to do, and most writers can probably relate. Because thoughts are thoughts and ideas are ideas. They don't care when they pop into your head, and they will try to claim space, whether the moment is "right" or not.

I have a self-care routine in place to prevent myself from getting trapped in my own head (that's maybe for another post), but it takes effort and constant reminders to get up from my desk, get out, get fresh air and move. Because I'd rather be in my head and write. I am an introvert, like many writers, but that's not a big blanket permission to stop connecting with life. Introversion and loneliness are not one and the same, and writers (everyone really) need to understand the difference. You need to pick up that phone, see people and surround yourself with humans from time to time for your own sake. Not just through your job. You need humans around you whom you truly connect with.

But back to different art forms: As a performer, I had the direct interaction with my fellow performers, and with my audience. I cannot stress enough how important the latter is, and I have said this on here many times: Art comes alive through interaction and communication. It connects us through shared humanity. And there are art forms out there that take care of that connection by default--I have felt the difference, and it is profound.

Yes, we can still write or create art as a form of processing emotions, and from a psychological viewpoint, this is healing and helpful.

But art needs to be both created and experienced. Every art ultimately becomes meaningless without the viewer/reader/audience. Art is never a one-way street.

Writers tell stories, but these stories don't exist in a vacuum. They exist because we can't help writing them, and we would always do it anyway, but they also exist because we want you to read them. And it means something to us to know they moved you, made you laugh, made you cry, made you find out something about yourself you didn't know yet, or they just helped you forget about the troubles you are going through for a little while.

So if you appreciate art forms that don't have direct audience interaction, let the artists know you did. It is not annoying us. We are happy about it. Most of us want that communication. And writers probably need it most...

#neil gaiman #writers #writing #writer life #writer problems #writerscommunity #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writer self-care #writers and poets #writing community #author #writers on tumblr #let your writers know what their stories mean to you #writers mental health #artist struggles #artist problems #artist mental health

[kijosakka]

dramaturgy; celebrity manhunt, pre-london -- im going to make it easy on myself and skim through pre-london first, as the most divergence in this AU happens during and after the fact. part of pre-london is the pre-season itself, the celebrity manhunt special.

so action comes and goes, noah gets out of the season and remains as chris’ PA for the year break. in that time, months before it actually happens, chris finds out about the new season (with producer word both pushing for ‘more drama/engagement’ or smth along those lines, and *noahs actual involvement this time).

while something something contracts might prevent him from just outright telling noah, i’d imagine that he’d all but say there’s going to be a new season and heavily imply that noah wont be able to get out of it this time. not only that but he also implies that maybe noah should give opening up to people on the show a chance,, cause, yk, hes about to be stuck on a jet with them,, for weeks,,

of course, noah is pissed at first. but in so many weeks or whatever he begrudgingly accepts it and just resolves to throw it like usual. as for the ‘opening up to people’, he lands on owen.

owen was nice enough, genuine to a fault and the person least likely to use any of noahs bare slivers of vulnerability against him. hes safe.

[*noahs involvement within the show as something that the viewers are very interested in. he could be ratings gold and they know it.]

now im a little bit torn over the whole ‘chris’ assistant’ bit; similar to the awakeathon i would imagine it might just be missing entirely and he would be fired before the fact. or it could happen, as a way to give his on-screen character some information. as a ‘look everyone, i have Depth. stop prying into my life please’

either way, whatever. *total drama dirtbags show up, chris locks them out of the venue, they dont win any awards, bus chase etc.

^ note here, per usual noah comes off as his usual uncanny self around the cast. sierra is there as well, im sure thats Something for her. however he does take notice of one (1) alejandro burromuerto, recognizing him and focusing on him. < this comes back during introductions, where he notes his behavior towards the cast.

[*total drama dirtbags existed as the original ‘new TD season’ that noah found out about and worked on for a little bit before he finds out that it was not in fact a real show and a coverup for something else (a grab for an extra contestant for WT) < hence, he knows josé from interviews/auditions he helped with, but doesn’t know alejandro since he decided one brother was Enough]

^ and just for extra clarity on the TDD thing bc ive kind of muddled it, say noah finds out about dirtbags, helps out whatever. and then the news breaks that its a fake phish for a new contestant for an actual show — fine enough, he’s already behind the cameras, so he can just stay there, right?

no, actually. its kinda just slung at him that he has to be part of the cast (smth smth his job is threatened under ‘contractual obligation’ like its not wildly unconscionable). and he is soooo pissed off, so incredibly angry at the circumstances he’s landed himself in somehow.

< but he is aware that he cant just bottle everything up because it will spill over; chris said he needs something to his character, so maybe he can funnel his anger into playing the game a little more. as the most outlet he’ll get before he can throw it and just be done with the show entirely.

^ and then,,, alejandro.

while the actual events of pre-london remain largely unchanged, his dynamics are changed with the presence of four different variables: alejandro, izzy, owen, and sierra.

alejandro i’ll get into more later with a longer post detailing what they think of each other mutually, but im gna touch on alejandro a little; with picking off team victory and believing heather is the only person who’s noticed his facade, he just,, doesnt really distinguish noah as a threat worthy of focusing on.

^ throughout the game and the events of, he does single noah out as the most tolerable of all his teammates but doesnt offer much intrigue beyond that until *new york. (to note, he’s a lot more comfortable with [oblivious to??] noahs detachedness than the rest of the cast since that empty demeanor is p common among whatever diplomatic events hes been a part of)

izzy is someone who’s character i established mostly in the long post i had about her?? but it is worth mentioning now though that she does stick very close by to noah throughout her time on the show, and routinely interacts with him where most of the cast had given up trying altogether.

^ it builds,, a kind of rapport between her and noah?? in some way after the fact he’d recognize it as a nice, ‘i-want-to-know-more-about-you-and-also-befriend-you’ thing, but during he reacts more like a yowling cat tbh. he’s built up this reputation and facade that make people stay away from him, and now izzy wants to stick around him and threaten his defense mechanism? no thanks. (< further reasoning for why he belays insults towards her during WT under the guise of his own facade)

owen is a special case — in the bus chase before the season, noah took the time to sit by him and build up the proper beginnings of a friendship, which owen is thrilled about < during his time on island, owen was really fond of noahs quips and ‘just wished he would open up a bit more!!’,, he thinks some friends would b good for him and hes right

^ and again, owen is noahs safest option to 'endear' himself to the audience with a friend. hes so genuine and understanding of where noahs projected character falls flat, and like izzy keeps interacting and wants to interact with him where the rest of the cast gave up (and noah the person becomes very fond of owen and the reprieve their friendship offers him very quickly)

and finally,,, sierra. i actually want to talk more about the Audience as an entity in this AU in a later post and sierra ties into that heavily. as established, noah is the one cast member she just doesn't know anything about. of each blog she runs dedicated to each member of the show, his is the emptiest; the most baseless. being in proximity with the man of mystery is exciting!

^ noah still comes off as very uncanny valley to sierra and his detachedness is immediately clear. but the key difference to her and and cast is that she has the Audience perspective --- he's intriguing moreso than offputting. (and also theres definitely Something there about the meta-analysis of panopticon as an in-universe topic and how sierra would relate/connect that once it becomes clear to the cast why noah acts as he does)

[*new york (same time space as the aftermath?) as the moment when sierra prattles off information about the cast but comes up with nothing on noah that his own interest is piqued just a liitle bit, and he starts building a proper relationship up with noah as the straightmen to the cast. < also come after london is something he looks back on as a Hmm. moment wondering what noah knows about himself.

^ alejandro does believe their rapport is one-sided bc of his own facade, which i want to mention simply bc he's wrong. it is no-sided. both of them r faking.]

now getting to the episodes themselves -- minor changes/additions:

in the yukon, he doesn't try to cuddle bridgette

^ also in the yukon, he shivers less visibly than the cast (think when in cold weather you get those microtremors that really fucking hurt after a few seconds). this is only because it feeds into the android joke-turned-conspiracy for the folks watching on the aftermath set

in new york, he was not actually asleep in the carriage nor did he explicitly pretend to be. he just Kept Quiet when heather did her thing

in germany, he doesn't go up to alejandro when he falls off the platform, but he does prompt owen to ask something along a similar line [to his canon ones]

in the amazon, he's the one to point out owens absence

in paris, the line of 'this totally works on my dog' he changes to smth like 'totally works on dogs',, for his own exercise of privacy really

in the space of the jamaica aftermath, he again disappears from the rest of the cast à la playa des losers save for owen. owen gets a hello during mealtimes and hes the only one.

and finally, the episodes of 'significant' development with noahs intrigue in alejandro:

beginning before any real events of the show during introductions

^ kicked off in germany similarly to canon, emphasized by newfoundland and the grab for DJ's alliance

and cemented completely [his interest in unmasking him] in jamaica, continuing onward with london around when he discovers that alejandro is acting skittery towards him because of his own suspicions

#i definitely meant to go more over the actual episodes and events here #but somehow got possessed and wrote all of this instead #i genuinely dk what happened. i blinked and had 1.5k words of whatever This is #i really need to copy paste all of these posts onto one document and try to organize it properly hmm #if theres any inconsistencies pls tell me but also be nice :( #i feel like i muddled a lot of things here hmmm #dramaturgyAU #total drama #td noah #total drama au #< scary have i tagged that before #i re-read this and had grammar changes but looking at it i cannot be bothered umm. sorry

[espion7971]

im not gonna say that much about this. i didnt think i'd say anything about it at all. but im too angry, and too fucking sad. i wont get too personal but this isnt gonna be like my usual posts so be warned if you follow me for more lighthearted stuff.

i also just wanna say, i talk about myself a lot in this post. *obviously*, i am not the victim here. i have never been a victim of this situation. but it's caused me grief and fury, and this is an outlet. we should be supporting shubble and all other victims. i don't really expect anyone to read this. i just needed to write it for my own sake.

the whole wilbur soot situation is devastating. when i first heard about it, like a lot of others, i immediately shut myself into denial. i have watched this man since he joined the dream smp in 2020. i was there through the entire server, through his 100 player challenges, the sbi mccs, all of it. i was a lovejoy fan from the moment one day came out - hell, i hoped to see them in concert someday. i did countless (though probably shitty) art and writing pieces inspired by his work. it wasn't that hard to tell that he isn't someone with flawless mental health by any means. but i never thought anything like this would happen.

when i accepted that he was the abuser shubble had talked about, i was upset and confused and unhappy. but i also had hope. i hoped that maybe this had served as a wake-up call, that maybe he was getting the help he needed. maybe he'd take a break, come back with a genuine response, and then make his mental health and personal morals a priority. i hoped he was better than this.

needless to say, i am furious. "disappointed" doesn't begin to scratch the surface. i'm angry. i'm insulted. i'm embarrassed to have ever looked up to him. his response was robotic, emotionless, and gave no indication of remorse or accountability. he didn't even apologize. he claimed that he had already received help. if he has, then it clearly wasn't enough. this is not a man who's ashamed and looking to better himself, this is a man who is going to keep hurting people. and that is terrifying. i genuinely can't connect this with the person i've kept up with for 4 entire years. i can't believe it. i really can't.

this response has corporate PR bullshit dripping right off of it. this so clearly did not come from wilbur soot himself. he might not have been involved at all, beyond a glance over and an okay to whatever team did the writing. and that's the most insulting part of all. he didn't even type this up with his own words. he didn't even have the balls to make his own response. and that pisses me off.

he abused someone. probably more than one. and he didn't even acknowledge her. the 4 paragraphs of nothing are addressed to the wider audience, not shelby, the person this should be about. if this is the best he can do, i'm genuinely shocked he developed such a loyal and amazing fanbase. fucking revolting.

with all that said, i'm probably going to stop listening to lovejoy. that hurts me, a lot. that's a hard choice for me to make. but there need to be repercussions. and this is what i hope: i genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, hope he gets help. i hope he wakes up and realizes he isn't ok, and takes genuinely strives to better himself. i hope he grows and improves and becomes better for the people around him. and i hope he leaves social media permanently. that hurts me to say, but i don't think i could ever really trust him after this, and i don't think it would make his situation any better. i hope he leaves, and i hope he makes a better life for himself. it's an optimistic hope, considering how much evidence is pointing to his unwillingness to change. but i won't let go of it.

that's pretty much it. i've said my piece. i'm angry. i'm sad. i wish this was all a dream and no one ever got hurt. but shelby did get hurt, and others almost certainly did too, and no nice fancy corporate words will change that. good-bye, wilbur soot. the memories were good. i won't let you taint them. but there's no going back from this, at least on the internet. i hope you make a better life, and i hope you do it far away from anyone you have hurt or could hurt.

what a waste.

#wilbur soot #abuse #domestic abuse #idk maybe i'll delete this later #i just needed to say it. maybe to make it feel more real #i'm still pretty deep in denial in all honesty #i just can't believe it. i can't believe any of it

[nuzzle]

Do you have any advice for gaining confidence to post online? I've been a lonelita for a long time and I really wanna make connections, but I live over an hour away from the nearest city with a comm group on fb and my anxiety is so so bad... I used to have an ig where I occasionally put up coord shots and such but I found that the platform wasn't a great fit for me. If you're willing to talk about how you got started on Tumblr, it might just be a big help.

i find that i was in a similar situation myself, i do have some advice!

posting online could be scary for a lot of reasons, especially posting personal things that mean a lot to you such as photos of yourself or your coords.

i completely understand you on that front.. despite running this blog for 4-5ish years or so, it took me a long time (until pretty recently actually) to feel comfortable posting more photos/details of my life that i would otherwise have considered private. i'm not in a comm (similar to you, bad anxiety! and autism gives me a little trouble socializing irl) or on any other social media either, so i consider the other lolitas and mutuals i make on here to be my only connection to the community if that makes sense.

i would say that fear stops a lot of people from doing the things that they want to do. you'll never know what it's like if you never try it out. you should take comfort in knowing what things are like for you now.. and knowing that you can return to that and remove yourself from any new situation you put yourself in if you truly find that you don't like it or find comfort in it.

i find that being a lonelita is.. lonely, as the name implies. though posting about lolita, sharing content, thoughts and ideas and such.. adding little tags on photos i see and sharing my opinion on new releases, posting little snippets on fun days and sharing a coord here and there, exchanging a few words with mutuals every now and then and seeing what they get up to in their posts, is honestly really enriching. it makes me love the fashion even more. you deserve to have an outlet to express yourself. people will see and appreciate the passion you have for it. just about everyone loves to see someone expressing their love for something that means a lot to them. you might even inspire others to do the same!

take advantage of the fact that only you can set your own boundaries based on your comfort. you can make your blog be whatever you choose. maybe you don't want to share every detail of your life and only feel comfortable posting or talking to people about certain things. maybe you feel more comfortable posting only your coords or wardrobe and excluding your face. you are entirely in control of what you share! and adding to that, you can tailor your online experience on here to not see things you'd rather not see by using tag filters.

the lolita community on here is very friendly and welcoming. everyone has been very sweet! it may not be the biggest or the most fleshed out, but it's comfortable here and feels more like home than a social media. if connections are what you want, i think you would find tumblr to your liking. i say take the chance! i'm always looking for new lolita mutuals if you'd be interested in that. i would definitely be glad to see you put yourself out there more!

#asks #lolita fashion #egl

[luckydiorxoxo]

Sorry for the mini rant but with everything going on in the world right now, it puts things in perspective and should for everyone else. I understand having an outlet and gossiping because it can be a nice distraction. Lately what’s been happening with trying to prove everyone is wrong and they are right is just exhausting.

Ok, cool. A rich privileged white man got married to a privileged white woman who are both happy to live in their own bubble and clearly not speak up on issues even their own strike. Fighting over this is not worth it. They clearly wouldn’t go so hard and waste their time on anyone here so why even fight others over him. Yeah I accept they are together but I would rather keep my mouth shut if I would even be considered to be defending AB. Other people are suffering in this world and they deserve my support and energy. Not two people with plenty of resources to have a good life out of the spotlight.

With the current situation of one country committing genocide is what is keeping my mind occupied. This is what puts things in perspective and also highlights what privilege I have to not have to live in a war zone. Makes you appreciate what you have and also realize who isn’t worth your time. Fighting each other for these people isn’t it. Trying to make it seem like it’s their duty to make everyone admit he is married is just condescending. Then saying they just want to watch the fandom burn is such bully behavior. Like let people come to their own terms with it. This isn’t directed at you because your blog isn’t posting all the fandom drama and is respectful of other’s opinions.

The "fighting" is tedious and doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. With the wars, the earthquakes, the mess of the US Govt. etc... it's alot happening right now that should be more important to others. But that's just my opinion . As far as the fandom on tumblr. It's literally a shitshow on here some days especially if you go through certain hashtags and i used to think "You either go along with it or leave", but I find the negative people aren't leaving, they've dug in. It's like they've finally found their niche spot.

As for burning down the fandom, good luck to them. I definitely think some pages are bizarre enough to have that goal but I won't give them too much credit. I write and post for myself. I stopped posting certain things because maybe I don't care, it doesn't serve me anymore. As many others do.

People don't have to agree with me but they doesn't necessarily mean my goal is to be the loudest person "in the room"or that I want control everyone's perception. But some people might take it that way.

I think I've found a good balance with my Barbieland and at this point, everyone will just have to find a space that allows for opinions without all this extra unnecessary hate and stick with that.

If people want to be in denial, constantly angry, petty.....then they need to follow similar pages. I just don't have the energy for it anymore. I'm only open to positive things at this point.

#Chris Evans #fandom

[starwikia]

You've been posting about James Somerton a lot, which is fair, but it's a lot and it's really angry, which is again fair, but at the same time, it feels like all that anger is pretty bad for a person.

If this is your outlet to vent go hog, but if you just feel it frequently, maybe you should stop fixatijg on Somerton. It does not seem like there is any conceivable way he can make a comeback. Listen, read, and watch the queer people he stole from and enjoy their success. That may be some way to feel good from the situation, at least it has been for me

i have been lol i just dont post abt it on here bc i rarely make personal posts on tumblr, that and i dont have much to add abt other ppls takes on their stuff on here. admittedly i started to post here bc i was tempted to respond to the shitheads on twitter and i realized this was a better alternate, admittedly. like lets be honest shit posting abt him on tumblr is the better alternative. ive been p good actually. but yeah i see what ur saying. the last few days have been anomalies and its not a permanent thing. ty for the concern though.

maybe im just a cunt but i just talk like this most of the time

#🛸.text #Anonymous

[officialromaniantranslatiuni]

What you wrote in that post about the course for teachers meant to prevent antisemitism in schools is proof that it is much needed and something like that should have been implemented yesterday. You could have done some research about the massive misinformation campaign started by the both sides of the I/P conflict (including allies, especially) since 7 October and the blatant antisemitism that is corroding the pro Palestine side, because many of their supporters have decided to show their solidarity through antisemitic biases and actions that most of them don't even understand are deeply problematic and are in no way helping Palestine, but your first reaction was to assume the Jews Israel is controlling the narrative and weaponizing antisemitism - at a time when antisemitism is skyrocketing everywhere around the world.

Also, there's a reason why the Jewish community of Timișoara is so small, isn't it? Actually, there's a reason why the Jewish community in Romania is so small now compared to how it used to be before WW2, isn't it? You're a teacher and you oftenly complain about how closed minded and ignorant your fellow teachers and your students' parents are, you should have known better than this.

Ok, anon who invented mineral water and is extra educated. I have no idea if you have no reading comprehension or if you were just looking for an excuse to insult me and whine.

But I shall approach you like one of my students:

In what context would the Palestine vs Israel conflict be approached by History teachers?

There is no present day history being taught as far as I know. I am not using contemporary because it leads up to the 21st century but not in detail and it only mentions a couple of events.

So the context would be... non existent.

I do not follow the news and the few I have been following are plainly stating facts. X is doing atrocities to Z. You can place either team. I do not deny your claim that some outlets are probably using discriminatory tactics just for kicks.

The thing is that Romanian pupils are not watching news on foreign politics. If anything, they would care about the war a few km away from us.

Let's address antisemitism and when it's discussed during History lessons:

- WW2 (I am no longer aware when exactly it's taught but I learnt about it in years 7, 8, 11 and 12)

- The new school subject added this year for 11th graders: The History of the Jewish People/Holocaust (it's a thing since like uwu yesterday uwu and the information is the same as in history lessons except with the emphasis on the Jewish community obvi)

- maybe other subject which tackle communities, tolerance and maybe even Religion (I remember learning a lot in primary school about their history)

So, please enlighten me why should this contemporary political/military issue be suddenly discussed in class?

Can we trace a timeline that would lead to understanding the reasons behind this war? Yes.

Does a teacher going to class and shouting "hey, kids, stop watching dances on tiktok and let's discuss the news which are very antisemitic" sound like a plausible thing? Definitely, but not really in a country that already supports Israel in this war and which is already the reason why Israel has a significant community number of citizens from here. Because things have been going on before and after WW2, but you call me ignorant and compare my intelligence to the one of a 6 year old, darling.

So to sum up... If you want to call out antisemitism in mass media, you approach zealots, uneducated adults and the media outlets themselves, not freaking children who don't even know where fucking Palestine and Israel are and don't know shit about politics to begin with!

[blaqueswanzaghouliishiilikeda]

.

i don’t want to get into this much. i just want to balance like just having a good time on here, low stakes, and also who i am and what i go through and how those things sometimes appear in spaces i personally wish they didn’t. but it can’t really be helped.

i think a lot of that desire not to be seen comes from being treated like i shouldn’t be seen. but in an effort to sort of get a ahead of future ableism, i just want to say. it’s possible i might log on here and not make a whole lot of sense. the way i exist makes it really difficult for me not to process online sometimes bc i don’t have a lot of outlets and that’s something my mind just kind of does now. i can’t even stop it from happening when im doing it.

sometimes my shifted state of mind becomes a very public thing. it’s embarrassing and like super not what i want, but it’s a thing that happens and could happen here. and i know how it can invite hate for just being different in a way that people find weird or that they wish they didn’t have to see it. but i can’t help but be this way. and i dont know that i agree that i should have to have pressure to control this thing that’s often out of my control all the time.

i don’t really want to be too specific about it but just i think it’s something i should at least kind of talk about. idk maybe others will get it? or maybe not, but if you ever see posts thats are kind of strange, or aren’t like in tune with “reality” so much. please just disregard. i don’t say this for ppl to feel sorry for me. just for people to know. i don’t mind being checked in on. i just don’t want to make a big fuss out of it. i’ll notice it eventually and delete.

#important thing to know about me and my blog. under the cut. bc i hate getting personal so bad #but i think it matters that i say this #mw posts #processing

[amonsteronmaplestreet]

32

Well, Seann, you did it. You made to 32 years old. Isn’t that something?

Your life isn’t really what you thought it would be, is it? Remember back in high school, when you thought that you’d have a house and be making six figures by now? Ah, the optimism of youth. Instead here you are, renting one-fourth of a two-bedroom apartment, barely keeping above the poverty line. You probably should have seen that one coming, if I’m being honest.

That’s not to say your life is awful, of course! You’re in love after all. You live with a woman you love dearly, who loves you back, and it was just five years ago that you would have scoffed at the idea of that ever happening. So much has improved in just the last half-decade.

Five years ago, you worked at a retail outlet where the phones never stopped ringing no matter how much you prayed they would, and you despised everything about your own life. That was the only period of time in which you ever self-harmed. Remember that? Do you remember taking the sharp metal tools meant for phone repair and scratching up and down your arms until you drew blood? Do you remember the sting, the feeling of release? Do you recall your conviction that everything painful in your life was some kind of deserved punishment, and that if you hurt yourself enough then maybe—just maybe—you’d balance out the cosmic scales and everything else wouldn’t be so bad?

How very Catholic. I guess thirteen years of parochial schooling will leave its mark on a person, no matter what.

But that’s all the past now. Now you have a job you love. Sure, you need to buy new insoles because your feet are always in pain, and sure your car broke down so now you need to take the bus to work and it eats up hours of your day, but when you walk though the doors of that doggie daycare, dozens of wagging tails and furry faces are excited to greet you. That counts for something.

What do you think the dogs think that place is? Who do they think you are? Every day their parents take them to a place full of friends, where they can run wild and play. Would that we all could live a life like that.

Then at the end of the day, you get to go home to your girlfriend. You see her smile, you kiss her, and the two of you rest your heads on one another. No matter how tiring the day may have been, you have that. You’re secure, you’re happy, and you’re content. Life is good.

But not everything is sunshine and roses. There’s still that whole “living just above the poverty line” business. A single accident or the mildest streak of bad luck is all it would take for this life of yours to come crashing down. It’s hard to enjoy the good things when you have that knowledge there, always looming over you from the back of your mind.

And speaking of your mind…

There’s two parts of you that you’ve never been able to kill, no matter how hard you’ve tried. The first is an ugly thing. It’s selfish and envious and always raging. It’s that bitter part of you that thinks you deserve to live off just your writing, that seethes with jealousy whenever you see another writer succeeding, that curses and hates everyone who scrolls on past a post about your books or your Ko-Fi or your Patreon without ever clicking through and buying something. It’s the part of you that hates the world for not showering you with money and praise at every opportunity.

It’s a childish thing, and it should have died with childhood. But still it lives, and even though you try your damnedest to stamp it out and starve it, to bury those feelings and smother it with your shame at experiencing them, it continues to thrive. You have failed to kill that part of you at every turn, and now all you can do is try to ignore it. Let it shout and seethe by itself, without your voice to focus it.

The other part of you that you can’t kill is a beautiful thing, but that just makes it worse, doesn’t it? It’s hope. It’s the part of you that thinks you could make a living off your writing, the part of you that, whenever you finish or start a project, thinks “Yes, this is the one. This is going to be my big break. It will be a success, and it will make me a success, and everything will be alright.” And no matter how many times that doesn’t happen, still that hopeful part of you refuses to die.

These two parts, seemingly so different, are tightly connected. They feed on each other, in a way. The ugliness grows with the beauty, and the beauty in turn grows with the ugliness. Hope rekindles itself in the face of defeat, but so too does resentment fester. You fear—no, you know—that so long as one lives, so too will the other.

It’s your birthday, and you’re doing the same thing you’ve done the past few years. You’re running a promotion, trying to entice people to join your Patreon or your Ko-Fi; it doesn’t matter to you which. That hopeful part of you thinks that you can make a lot of money off this—after all, surely the offer of free books will entice people!—but you know that even getting one new subscriber would be a minor miracle, and two would be more than you should dare to dream of. You’d be thankful and grateful if this led to any subscriptions at all, and you’d never know quite how to express that gratitude. You’d just let it fill you, and drown that awful envious part of you that rages that it’s still not enough.

You live in Capitalism. Nothing can ever be enough. That’s the whole damn point of the system.

And sometimes these two seemingly unkillable parts of you come together in mourning. In the face of failure, they wonder if maybe you don’t deserve success after all, if maybe you can’t achieve it because you aren’t good enough. It stands to reason, right? If your writing was better, you’d be more successful. That’s what you’ve been taught your whole life.

Maybe you deserve poverty. Maybe you deserve worse than that. After all, look at all this bitterness you’ve allowed to fester within you. Does that not make you a bad person? Does that not make you undeserving?

Yet even in this darkness, that hopeful part of you still refuses to die. It drags you out of the pit and it makes you try again, and again, and again still. You force yourself to keep going, and when you go to work and the dogs look at you with such uncomplicated joy, and you go home and she looks at you with such love, you can’t help but wonder what they’re seeing. Whatever it is, you wish you could see it as well.

So you trudge on, guided by your hope, and if feeding that ugly, selfish envy is the price you must pay to hold onto it, then maybe that’s a fair bargain after all.

A whole new year is stretched out before you. There’s so much you want to do with it, so much you want to accomplish. The truth is that you’ll probably fail on most of the goals you set for yourself. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be a few successes, small though they may be. In a world like this one, every success is something worth celebrating.

Happy birthday, Seann. Welcome to Thirty Two.

#happy birthday to me

[ca1e70]

daverose indie rock house show au chapter........ 1.5?

"so like i didn't write this song or anything, but i mean technically i should be on the credits because i DID come up with one of the drum fills and i totally deserve credit. don't let them tell you any differently" the first few words came out echoey through the shitty speakers stacked around the living room and kitchen. at least until the blond guy with the shades fiddles with with the microphone while still giving his little spiel. he also manages to kick the "pedalboard" by his feet and nearly sends the cracked skateboard housing questionable equipment clear into the kitchen. he doesn't, though, but the mic picks up his worried curses anyway. back to the situation at hand. "our regularly scheduled lead is on vocal rest because of... what was it?" 

hes turning back from the only slightly attentive crowd to look at the bassist. she has rubber bands youd expect to see on a set of extensive braces adorning her fingers while she mines a line and makes a face at him. she doesn't know. shes not even the regularly scheduled bassist. 

"actually fuck it who gives a shit but i'm not changing the lyrics so just bear with me while i butcher some sapphic undertones" and their fill-in for the fill-in drummer is coming in early. 

this is the second time rose lalonde has come across the man currently fumbling his way through a guitar riff like he'd never picked one up before. she would be none the wiser if it wasn't for the fact she knew the stand-in bassist, and she had heard plenty of talk about the stand-in drummer turned lead guitar and singer. this place did a lot of stand-ins. you'd think by now they would have created at least ONE set band, and maybe they did, but rose couldn't care less about the semantics of indie bands and their makeup of artists. she knows she heard one girl on her way to the bathroom talk about a different guitarist sending an unsolicited dick pic, and decided she didn't really want to be involved in the politics of 'local musicians'. 

she was here, once again, at the request of her dear friend blowing everyone away with her ability to jump around the small dining room area and still hit every note. every time it looked like her hair had obscured her vision enough to send her tumbling into the guy not only wearing shades inside, but at night, jade managed to keep her balance up right. it's the only reason she stayed firmly planted on the kitchen counter in the background. it's also the only reason rose came again, because jade promised to "make it up to her by actually showing up and performing". 

no one said anything about dave strider being front and center, though. she had half the mind to turn around and walk out the second she saw him tinkering with a power outlet. jade had already spotted her, though, and the escape plan went out the window. which is why she is once again stuck watching performances from what seems like a messier counter than last time, but i digress. 

dont get her wrong. dave isnt half bad! if he had some training, maybe a better grasp on guitar work in general he would be good. if he had some more practice with the song he is, as he said, butchering. it isnt until he picks up in on the lyrics that she takes a second to really pay attention. 

he isnt anything special. the southern accent he tries desperately to cover up makes its way out on certain words, he manages to keep in pitch and tone well enough she doesnt have to cover her ears, and theres a couple girls in the living room that yell when he starts singing. they scream, is more like it, and one of them is giggling at the other and theres a slight twinge in rose’s stomach that makes her want to run out of this house and never stop running until she makes it to antarctica. 

she wants the girl to leave. she wants the guy in the shades to shut the fuck up and stop singing in front of everyone here. she wants jade to leave her bassist post and come over here right this very second so she can slap rose and tell her shes going insane. instead of any of that happening, rose hops off the counter again and starts to fill up a red solo cup with sink water. the physical act helps her keep her mind off of dave and how she feels her heart rate picking up at the idea that another girl could think he was cute. or that his voice was nice. or want to do something like go on a date with him when rose has already done that, ruined that, and ghosted him. 

well, she didnt ghost him. itd only been a week and she just hadnt replied to his messages because she was busy with school. just because he and jade had school together and talked every day, and jade said that dave asked about her and was worried, and she never replied back, does not mean shes ghosting him. 

if she was ghosting him the nickels wouldnt be still sitting on her bedside table, like a memento of something that happened with a weird boy in a bathroom. 

rose manages to overfill the cup and continue overfilling it until the song is over. when silence hits the room (just before scattered applause) she turns the faucet off and stares at the ripple of the water in her cup. she would never drink something like this, but it had given her something to do, so she dumps it back into the sink and crushes the cup to let loose a little bit of self contained anger. 

she should have waited because theres a rather jazzy little guitar fill – not bass, guitar – and she has to walk around the wall in the kitchen just to make sure she isnt hallucinating. it must be a cover, one he’s worked on before, because the audience goes a little crazy and when he starts singing again they sing along. its one shes never heard, but it isnt as if shes all that up to date on the scene shes currently swathed in. dave had sent her a playlist of music to listen to, ones that would help her out if she ever came back, and she wondered if this one was on it. she wondered if she could have been singing along with him like the girls stationed right in front of his microphone. she wonders if she could have been cheering him on like he deserved. 

no, he didnt deserve it. hes just a boy. hes just a boy with a kind of good voice that can apparently play the guitar well enough and supposedly plays the drums like a god. something rose has only heard rumors of and yet to see, and theres the smallest part of her that hopes she does one day, but she shoves that down quickly in favor of staring into the back of those girls heads like shes going to make them explode.

this is jealousy and she doesnt like it. she didnt even know she was capable of jealousy. she wants to never feel jealous again, and jade is gearing up for a bass solo and sees rose in the actual ‘audience’. her name is yelled into the microphone and rose can feel her face turning red when dave’s face appears between the two witches he has as fans.  the witches turn around as well. the entire house turns around to look at rose right as jade starts playing and rose just… stands there. still as a caught mouse. a truly dead possum. caught in the fact dave smiled when he caught sight of her and went back to messing with the pedalboard. she wants to run away and disappear right then and there.

she does, to be fair, once jade has finished her solo and looks back at rose for approval shes back to trying to find an escape route for the time being. somewhere that she doesnt have to look at a stupid little blond boy or feel emotions she hasnt felt since her mother smiled wider at a wine shipment than the carefully crafted scarf she had made her for christmas one year as a kid. she wanted to break every bottle in that crate just like she wanted to break every bone in those girls bodies, so she takes her rage up the stairs and into a bedroom she can find unlocked. theres shockingly no one in there, but it doesnt take her long to realize why. 

above the bed is an entire shelf of preserved animals. there are cords across the floor like nobodys business, the entire room is a tripping hazard, and the sheets on the bed look rumpled and unchanged and the entire room smells of formalin and teenage boy. 

no one is going to come in here, though, so its safe. its safe enough she shuts the door behind her and carefully crosses the room to open a window for airflow. the fan in the corner doesnt really do the room much help, so this should make it less stuffy. her head is sticking out and her hands are on the ledge of the window and she can still hear dave singing underneath her but its muffled. far away. just like her house, and yet, last friday he walked her all the way there. it had to have been forty minutes. she took a cab here again, no idea how she would get home. she fully hoped jade would give her a ride back so she didnt have to walk or be walked by a man who probably went way out of his way for that. 

she doesn't even know where he lives, after all.

#writing tag #daverose indie rock house show au

[flawlessscv]

comeback special ;)

it’s been two years since i have posted...and ive only posted once. it was during my outsiders stage that always comes and goes. i love tumblr, it is my escape from the real world and since starting college ive been writing and trying to get out of my stressed thoughts. so since the elvis release ive fallen back into love with austin butler. i was listening to t-swift the other day and her song style made me start thinking of him. so here is something i wrote up. i hope to continue writing, it really is a great outlet for me. 

midnight 

you come and pick me up, no headlights 

long drive 

could end in burning flames or paradise 

fade into view, oh 

It's been a while since I've even heard from you

as Austin pulls out of your driveway you can't help but wonder how you got into this position again. what led you to sit in his passenger seat. was it his intense blue eyes? or the blonde hair? his new Elvis accent? or your past that always seems to make you tingle?

And I should just tell you to leave 'cause I

Know exactly where it leads, but I

Watch us go 'round and 'round each time

you're always going back and forth with Austin, it's never a constant in your life it's like a drug you can't get enough of. you know you should call it quits, but what's the fun in that...?

You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye

he always has that look about him, like he was destined to be Elvis. he fits the persona well and embodied his character not only through tv but in bed. the look he has acting is one you have seen many times on repeat in a shared, intimate experience. 

And I got that red lip classic thing that you like

you always wear a red lip combo to any outing after he told you how sexy you looked in it the first night you met. the same brand and color as the one you were wearing the night you left red lip stains all over his body. 

You got that long hair, slicked back, white T-shirt

when you saw him you knew his perfectly quaffed hair would turn into a knotty mess by midnight. his white t-shirt hugging his biceps making you ponder on the thought of gripping them during intercourse. 

And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt

he saw you as innocent at first, easily approachable until the night you showed him first greetings don't always amount to much. 

So it goes

He can't keep his wild eyes on the road, mm

Takes me home

The lights are off, he's taking off his coat, mm, yeah

you have arrived at his new apartment in Manhattan, new york. you wonder if you guys are gonna talk catch up maybe, but you know talking doesn't last very long when it's just the two of you. 

I say, "I heard, oh

That you've been out and about with some other girl, some other girl"

you ask him about his newest side piece Kaia. hoping to understand why he called you so late to come to his apartment while the press is posting pictures the same day of him with her. 

He says, "What you heard is true, but I

Can't stop thinkin' 'bout you and I" 

he has always felt like you were a magnet pulling him towards something he shouldn't mess with but does anyways because of the intoxicating feeling he can't shake. he can't find it with any other girl either, he has tried. 

you feel and understand where he is coming from. cause you and him never go out of style. even when you're crashing down you will come back to each other every time. 

#austin butler x reader #austin butler!elvis #elvis movie #austinbutler #austin butler imagine

[thebreakfastgenie]

I am going to be a little bit blunt, this isn't meant to be an "insult", just an honest observation.

When I say you seem argumentative and like you need to have the last word, I say that because I am also that way and I see a lot of those traits in you too from experience. I don't think there's anything wrong with those traits in theory, and as you point out, those traits are much more criticized in women than in men. But unchecked, those traits can be annoying. I don't think you're an annoying or bad person, because the vast majority of the time you are not, but there have been a couple of times when I've thought maybe a particular series of posts or something was annoying. At the end of the day though, you have every right to be annoying on your own Tumblr blog. If there is ever a place to be annoying, or "cringe", or any other personal expression:- that's where it is. Lord knows I am wildly annoying sometimes. I think there is a time and a place to embrace being annoying. And when I find your, or anyone else's posts annoying, I just stop reading and keep scrolling, just as I assume people do to me.

If you were like that all the time in every context it would be a character flaw, but occasionally on Tumblr? Nah, it's fine.

I didn't say this on your last ask but I would also describe myself as argumentative and needing to get the last word. In fact, I have. There's an episode of MASH that's painful for me to watch because Hawkeye denies always needing to have the last word and then physically cannot stop himself and it's like holding up a mirror. There's a t-shirt that says "I'm not arguing, I'm explaining why I'm right" that my mom always says I should have. And I've been like this since I could talk.

There's an extent to which I use tumblr as an outlet for these traits to make me more tolerable to be around in real life so it definitely comes up more here. Anyway thanks for this ask, it's a really good point, and I don't think it was mean at all! I'm blunt too, I love blunt.

#my mom is the same was me to the point where we'd have fights that literally sounded like one person #when I was a teenager #it made my dad feel like he was going insane lol

[ashleygetsblacked]

Hey Ashley, love your posts, confidence and thoughts. Curious because I'm an athletic white male in good condition physically and sexually, but I'm also incredibly attracted to your confidence and attraction to black men. You know what you want, and go for it. That is so liberating, for both you and myself. I get off on pleasing others, whether it be with my dick or tongue, or in this case you being pleased by others (vicariously if you will). You, on the other hand seem to love getting pleasure by being pleased. This is not a hit at you at all, but in wondering how you (snowbunny), me (want to be cuckold) and your bulls (black men of different size and statures) are wired differently. What do you, and your bulls get out of sex, as opposed to me living vicariously through your pleasure?

Thank you so much for the compliment and for the thoughtful question! Each of us is on our own sexual journeys and our sexual tastes and preferences will tend to change and evolve over time. There is a saying from the world of bondage that applies here. Safe, sane and consensual. As long adults keep take those three things into consideration, I believe that they should be free to explore their sexual cravings, yearnings and desires. With that said, consequences still exist for all of our actions. Sex can lead to addiction, depravity, destroyed relationships, self loathing, destroyed marriages, etc. it is really important that your partner(s) are also safe, sane and consensual, and that you place your own health, well-being and sanity above your sexual kinks and desires. It’s not always easy to do, but self-discovery, personal growth, and self analysis should be at the heart of one’s sexual explorations. There needs to be something in it for everyone too, or people will stop showing up to get fucked. There is a Yen and Yang aspect to it all. There are those that like to humiliate and those that like being humiliated. Those who are dominant and others who are submissive. Being submissive might be truly empowering and liberating for someone. There is joy in service, just as dominants might find peace in controlling others or perhaps in teaching and protecting others. Maybe a woman is a complete sycophantic pushover in real life, but after work she puts on a dominatrix outfit like it is a superhero costume and takes out all of her frustrations in a sexually healthy outlet. To your question specifically, I am very new to the interracial kink and I am still discovering the world and terminology, but it seems to me that (in general) there seems to be a fascination with the size of black men’s penises. For black bulls as you call them, they seem (to me) to be in one of four camps. 1. Enjoyment of giving pleasure to size queens, 2. Enjoyment of stealing women or having their dick size be the thing that makes a woman cheat on their partner. 3. Enjoyment of humiliating men with smaller penises. 4. Fetishizing that the black race is superior over others sexually. I certainly can’t speak for black men, but this is my opinion on what drives their sexual pleasure just from the comments I’ve seen around tumblr. I am personally a people pleaser with a servant’s heart. While I do thoroughly enjoy getting dicked down, I also love pleasing my partner in any way that I can. I will do anything and I do mean anything sexually for someone that l love. I’m something of a switch though. I do enjoy being dominated by large, manly men but I also enjoy dominating other women (I also have a huge praise kink and drip at being called a good girl by just about anyone). For me, I’m exploring black men with something of a scientific enthusiasm, coming from a place of learning. I am also wondering if perhaps racism was at play in my own mind subconsciously, simply due to the fact that I didn’t even consider black men as sexual partners before. What was that about? Why was that? Was it perhaps just societal norms and perceptions? Self discovery and personal growth are very much at the heart of my current sexual exploration with black men. I don’t know very much about the world of cuckholds yet, but so far, again just from just what I’ve seen around tumblr, these are what I perceive to be what they are driven by 1. Putting their partner’s desire for large penises over their own, 2. Enjoyment of humiliation, 3. Fetishizing the superiority of the black race sexually, 4. Enjoyment of watching others, 5. Sexual denial / chastity / cages. 6. Enjoyment of submission to women or black men, 7. Being a slave to black men as some form of reparations? Again this is all new to me, but this is how I see the kink from an outsider’s perspective. I’m ignorant to quite a lot with these dynamics and I mean no offense by any of my descriptions. We are all at different places on our sexual journeys and I love talking about it all. Questions like these are always welcome!

#ashley answers

[hanjisick]

hello, it’s seungmin fic anon here! i read some of your recent anon responses and i’m so sorry that life is really hard right now for you. from one stranger to another, i’m really sorry for that and i hope that things get better for you because you deserve everything. don’t worry about posting too often or feeling obligated to, because you come first.

i wanted to share, i also write yandere oneshots? drabbles? but mostly for myself as a sort of comfort and a way for me to project my emotions onto the characters. it makes me feel better sometimes letting them out that way, so i hope you can use writing not only to satisfy the requests of others but also for yourself, even if you keep them to yourself. i’m just saying this because writing them really helped me when i was in a terrible place...maybe you already do this, but i hope that maybe you can use writing to help you out of your hard times.

and as a writer myself, i understand how you feel about seeing all the mistakes and everything. to me, it was really perfect and ended at the right tense point with a lot of room for imagination after (that’s what makes your works so perfect in my personal opinion, just knowing when to stop and how much to describe and everything). but to you, it may not have been. but i hope maybe you can be more lenient with yourself with the imperfections you see in the future, because your works are really really enjoyable to read.

sorry that my anon message for you was really long...but i felt really called to tell you these things. i hope i wasn’t assuming anything, but i hope this finds you well and makes you feel at least the tiniest bit better. in a way, it’s a repayment for all the comfort i’ve found in reading your works for a while now, so maybe that’s why i wrote so much. anyway, thank you for posting your wonderful works and i sincerely hope things get better for you. 💖💖

hi love! ‘seungmin fic anon’ is so funny to me :) life isn’t the best and to elaborate a bit, i’m trying to get out of an unsafe environment right now whilst suffering from certain mental health problems. :( thank you for your concern.

i think it’s so interesting that you also write! it’s always intimidating to see writers liking my content— i tend to get lost scrolling through blogs that interact with me and just gasp because wow, they’re such good writers and reading my work? its a confidence booster for sure, but a little scary. i’d love to see some of your works sometime!

writing used to be more of an outlet for myself back when i was in bad situations similar to the one i am currently in, but life hasn’t been too bad up until recently, and i think it’s beginning to get to that point again. i’m so glad that you found an outlet in writing.

thank you for the descriptive comments! those are always the most helpful and best to read. especially since that was one of my writing insecurities— i feel as if i should continue the story instead of stopping so abruptly, but it’s wonderful to see your perspective in that it makes it unique. :)

your message made my day, thank you so much for it. i love to hear that people are comforted by my works, because that’s my biggest writing goal in the moment. my entire life i had been comforted by stories other people wrote, and hearing that im now a comfort writer to some people makes me feel so prideful. please continue to message me anything you feel like saying! from the bottom of my heart, i love it so much. <3