#anyways yeah these are all from personal experiences

[sinsinsina]

Edward Cullen X Reader | Bones and Blood

⚠️ TW: Malnutrition.

Context: Your family's financial situation worsens to the point where you are unable to eat properly. Fortunately, Edward discovered your situation and decided to help you secretly.

Contém: Inappropriate language, misuse of English (not my first language, sorry 😞), sensitive topics (check trigger list above), SFW.

Notas: I tried to bring the situation to everyone in the most respectful way possible. I basically used personal experiences from my dark past to relate what happened to [reader]. I'm sorry if this offends anyone, it's not my intention, in fact, I understand that better than anyone 🫠

You never really cared much about food. You’ve always been pretty chill about your appearance, knowing you were perfectly healthy without bothering with diet rules or crazy restrictions. But things changed when your father lost his job.

You’ve been living with him and your stepmother ever since your mother passed away. Your stepmother isn’t a bad person, but she never liked having you in the house — like you were an intruder in the perfect life she built with her new husband. Your father gave her plenty of attention and loved you in his own twisted way, but he was never the kind of man who truly cared about your needs. You learned to deal with that, though.

After he got fired, as a last desperate attempt to survive, your father sold the house you had in Seattle, and you all moved to his hometown — Forks, a small, rainy place. He managed to get a job that paid just enough to cover the bills, but you still had to be very careful with money. In short, you were really broke — drowning in debt and struggling — but you could handle it.

Your new life in this tiny town with barely any people was… boring, to say the least. Most of the students were excited about the arrival of “fresh meat” in town, but over time, you just became another regular student like everyone else. You had a few friends but barely talked to anyone. Sometimes you exchanged a few words with a girl named Angela. Sometimes you said “good morning” to your lab partner. And that was it.

Things were going fine in good old Forks — until your stepmother got pregnant. You were genuinely happy for her, and that even improved your relationship with her a little. But clearly, it wasn’t exactly good news for your father, who was already working himself to death to keep the family afloat.

Things escalated quickly. One day, you were all thinking about names for your future little brother. The next day, your father started asking you to eat less. One day, your meals were just being slightly monitored. The next, you weren’t having lunch anymore. You couldn’t eat at school anymore since your father cut off your lunch money. You were barely having breakfast these days. Everything was left for your stepmother and her baby — and you didn’t complain. They needed it more than you did, anyway.

“Wow, [﹎﹎﹎], you look amazing,” Jessica commented on a random Wednesday while you practically drooled over her tuna sandwich. “Have you been dieting?”

The question caught you off guard. You hadn’t noticed you’d lost weight until that very moment — though, honestly, it shouldn’t have surprised you. You swallowed hard and smiled, keeping your eyes locked on her sandwich.

“Yeah… guess it’s working,” you answered whatever came to mind, practically salivating as she took the next bite.

The days became harder from that point on. You had no idea what kind of deluded image Jessica was seeing. You were anything but pretty. Your rib bones were starting to show in a terrifying way, your cheeks had sunk in, and your cheekbones looked painfully sharp. You cried in front of the mirror when you noticed it for the first time. But nothing compared to the pain of hunger. A black hole in your stomach, swallowing everything inside you — your bones, your flesh, your blood, your sanity.

Sometimes, you just couldn’t hold back the urge and would ask for a bite of whatever the people sitting next to you in the cafeteria were eating. You savored every bite like it was your last. Surprisingly, no one ever questioned your constant hunger — as if it was just something natural about you. Once, Angela brought an extra sandwich, as if she suspected something but wasn’t really sure. You denied every question about your so-called “diet” when she, clearly embarrassed, tried to bring it up. She was trying not to be invasive or imply anything… but deep down, all you wanted was for her to figure it out herself. That way, the shame of having to admit it would hurt less.

When the baby started showing signs, your food portions shrank even more. Breakfast was officially gone — nothing left on the counter. Whatever food there was, it was safely stored in your stepmother’s bedroom. You started to hate lunchtime at school. Your mind was foggy most of the time. Your teachers started asking questions about the drop in your grades. One day, your father was even called to the school because you kept falling asleep in every single literature class. Getting out of bed took everything you had. Thinking was even worse. You were sleepy all the time... except during lunch. That was the only time your body was on high alert — food nearby.

Being forced to watch your classmates eat, completely oblivious to your situation, was pure torture. Envy started screaming inside your head. You silently judged everyone who complained about the school’s food, everyone who dared to throw away even the tiniest slice of pizza. And that’s when your eyes landed on the Cullens.

God, how you hated them.

Every single day, they grabbed a full tray of food and didn’t eat a single bite. Not even one. They just dumped it all straight into the trash. Your entire body tensed just looking at their pale, perfect — sometimes terrifying — faces. When the shortest one, Alice Cullen (yeah, you remembered her name), threw her entire tray away, your blood boiled so badly that you had to lower your gaze or you were going to pass out from low blood pressure.

“Fucking spoiled rich kids,” you growled through gritted teeth.

Everyone at your table turned to look at you, surprised.

“Whoa… where did that come from?” Mike asked, glancing over at the Cullens’ table and laughing. You didn’t even need to say their names. Everyone already knew who you were talking about. Who else could be such spoiled brats if not the untouchable Cullens? You rolled your eyes just thinking about it.

“They're loaded, right? Stuck-up as hell,” Mike added.

“Oh, for sure. Bet they pay for plastic surgeries, gastric bypass, or whatever it takes to keep those cute fucking faces,” you snapped, your voice full of venom. Mike, Lauren, and Jessica laughed at your nasty comment, but Angela just stared at you — shocked.

You felt bad for her. Normally, neither of you took part in trash-talking others like this. And honestly… the Cullens weren’t really to blame for the fact that you were infinitely poorer than they could possibly imagine. They didn’t know your situation. Hell, they wouldn’t care anyway. Why would rich kids give a damn about someone starving? Pathetic.

You forced your mind to think about something else. Hating rich people wasn’t making you any healthier. But you nearly whimpered at the memory of that tiny girl tossing all that food away. Your darkest thoughts started whispering the idea of walking over to the trash can near their table... and grabbing the food Alice had just thrown out. Your stomach growled in agreement, but your pride still had a voice. This was degrading. Eating from the trash. Eating leftovers. Like a dog sneaking food from its owner.

But… who the hell cares about pride when you’re starving?

Who cares about social norms when you’re literally fighting to survive?

Your eyes lifted back to the Cullens’ table. Edward Cullen — one of the few who actually looked young enough to belong in this school — was staring right at you. His brows were furrowed, his expression... pained, like he was hurting.

You wondered if he’d heard you bad-mouthing his family. And you wondered… would he be the kind of person who’d care? Care if someone was starving? Someone like you?

His pained expression grew even sharper, like a gentle stab. You quickly looked away again.

When the bell for the next class finally rang, you waited for your friends to get up and leave — like you always did. As you stood, your blood pressure dropped so fast you could barely hold yourself steady against the table. It’s getting worse, you thought bitterly.

Your feet carried you over to the Cullens’ table, now empty. Right next to it was the trash can — the same one where Alice had tossed all her food. Pepperoni pizza, fries... and an apple. You remembered the apple fondly. You needed to be quick. No one could know what you were about to do. If you were lucky, maybe you could save something for dinner later.

You waited until the cafeteria was as empty as possible. You didn’t care if you ended up late for class — you’d probably just fall asleep in it anyway, with hunger pounding through your body like a hammer.

As you got closer, you made your way toward the trash can… but then your eyes lit up when you spotted something even better. Sitting on Edward Cullen’s chair — yeah, you remembered his name — was his tray. He had forgotten to throw it away, and his untouched food was still sitting right there.

Your eyes had never shined so bright. A smile spread across your lips, full of pure emotion. Whatever part of you still hated the Cullens… vanished in that exact moment.

You devoured everything on that tray in seconds, with zero class or dignity. The pepperoni pizza was the best thing you’d eaten in years. The half-crushed juice box tasted like heaven. Edward had even poured ketchup over the fries — not that he’d eaten a single one. You shoved it all into your mouth, desperate, even as the pain in your stomach tripled from how sensitive it had become.

When it was over, you still wanted more... but that would be enough — for now.

The place was already pretty empty when you finally stood up to head to class. Five minute late — but so, so happy.

The next morning — Friday — twenty kilos under the recommended weight for your height and age, you arrived late for physics class. As usual. The teacher didn’t even care anymore about your lack of commitment. Maybe he knew what was going on… but he wasn’t going to do anything about it.

Exhausted, you sat down and were informed that you’d have to do a partner project with someone. But no one came over to ask you, and you didn’t have the strength to ask who was available. You rested your head on the cold desk, sleep creeping in slowly. You could hear the teacher sigh in frustration… but again, he didn’t do anything.

At that moment… a small part of you — a tiny, tired part — wanted to die. A few more tears fell when no one was watching. Everything felt so bad… Your period had been missing for months now, thanks to the lack of food. Your bony arms wrapped tightly around your stomach. You were wearing three hoodies to hide your extreme thinness. There was no hope for improvement.

Soon your brother would be born, and your father would prioritize him — like he always did. Your stepmother didn’t like you anyway… it would be easy for her to forget you existed.

You loved the baby growing inside her… but deep down, you knew you wouldn’t live long enough to see him grow up. It was just a matter of time before death found you. And you waited for it… patiently… with very little hope.

Suddenly, something cold poked your back.

Wiping your tears quickly, you lifted your head… and came face-to-face with Edward Cullen.

He’d sat down next to you. That startled you. He never sat next to anyone. Actually… you couldn’t even remember him being in your class before.

“Do you have a partner for the project?” he asked, an adorable smile playing on his full lips. It took your breath away. Up close… he was even more beautiful. No doubt about it.

“You… wanna partner with me?” your voice came out weak, but he understood anyway and nodded. You frowned in confusion.

“But… you never pair up with anyone. You always ask to work alone.”

Edward shrugged and rested his face in his hands, still smiling at you with that soft kindness. You liked his smile. It made him seem… more human, somehow. His face twitched suddenly, like he was holding back a laugh.

“I mean… can I partner with you or not?” he asked playfully. Your body made a serious effort to sit up straighter… to look at least somewhat decent near him.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” he added.

Of course you wanted to. Anyone would do, honestly — as long as it meant less effort for you. And Edward was smart… which was great, because your concentration was practically non-existent these days.

“You can partner with me,” you said, smiling this time, relieved. “Where do you wanna work? Library? My house?”

“We can do it at mine?”

“Sure… what time?” You’d still need to check with your dad, but the idea made you happy. No one had ever been inside the Cullens’ house before. People could probably write about you in the school records after this.

“Come over around ten. That way you could stay for lunch too… if you want,” Edward suggested carefully, almost like he was shy about it.

Your whole body lit up with joy. More than perfect. Your cheeks flushed crimson, thinking about how embarrassing it was… going to someone’s house mostly for the food. The imaginary collar still around your neck… with “man’s best friend” engraved on it.

“Don’t you think the library would be better? I don’t want to bother your family…”

“You won’t be a bother. My mom loves any excuse to cook,” he chuckled at his own comment. His laugh was contagious… and you found yourself laughing too.

The fact that every student in the room seemed to be staring at the two of you didn’t escape your notice. Nobody talked to the Cullens more than absolutely necessary. And here you were… breaking every social rule.

“My mom used to love cooking too… She made the best lemon pie in history!” Your memories dragged you back to your little house in Seattle. Your mom… so wonderful and alive… cooking for you. The smell of her food still lingered in your mind. Life had been so different back then…

“What was she like?” Edward asked, with a shadowed but still empathetic look on his face.

“Very beautiful… Very different from me,” you answered with a sad smile. Her death didn’t hurt like it used to. Somehow, you felt she was in a better place now. “She was kind… easily stressed… and full of life.”

“She’s… gone?”

“Yes… It’s been a while now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not really sad about it anymore… Sometimes I feel like I’ll see her again soon…” The sentence sounded darker out loud than it had in your head. Edward noticed too.

“I think I get it… My mom passed too… when I was… younger,” he said, frowning as he dug into some distant memory. “We were really close.”

“I can imagine what that feels like… But now you have your adoptive mom, right? You talked about her with so much affection…”

“Yeah… I love Esme,” he said, smiling again.

It was a good conversation. The untouchable image of the Cullens had a new meaning in your head now. In the end… you started to think of Edward as someone kind. Someone who… maybe… might care about a starving kid.

Your stomach growled. You hoped he hadn’t heard it.

“Wanna have lunch with me today?” he asked suddenly. His topaz eyes shining as they met yours.

The question caught you completely off guard. You… having lunch… with a Cullen? Someone who wasn’t a Cullen… having lunch… with a Cullen?

Yesterday, you hated them.

And now…?

Your cheeks flushed again.

“Uh… don’t you think I’d be a burden to your siblings?” you asked, embarrassed. But honestly… it sounded like a good idea. At least you wouldn’t have to sit there. Watching others eat. Again.

“We’ll make an exception,” Edward said gently, flashing that perfect, dazzling smile that made your legs feel weak. How was it possible for him to be this beautiful?

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll pay for you.”

Your eyes widened. Now… the offer was way more tempting.

“Okay, fine. But, I’m gonna order a lot,” you said, half joking. Half serious.

Edward smiled, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m counting on it.”

Final notes: There will be a part 2, I promise! For now I found it too long for a Tumblr fanfic, I write a lot, I apologize for the unnecessary details, I tried to control myself as much as I could 😭. My first time writing here, I'm still learning to put little things. Thank you for reading, if anyone read it at all 🧡.

(P.S.: Crediting here the beautiful divider I used.)

[i-willstealyourtoes]

can we get some engineer and trans male reader food im starving here... spicy perchance... holds out change jar

i love your work though—ive been meaning to request you for a while and you finally have your requests open!!!! whoopee!!!!!

Hell yeah you can get some Engie content !! I'm not trans myself so I hope I did this justice :'>

Engineer with Trans male!Reader (T4T)

Not like, he doesn't care about your body - he loves your body - rather it doesn't concern him that you're trans.

Some people HC Dell as trans, so I thought maybe we could work with that ??

Anyway, trans or not, Dell doesn't really care whatever you got in your pants.

Maybe if he was like, an insecure teen he'd bothered by his partner's identity like that, but now that he's a mature adult? He's just happy if you're happy !!

And it's even better you're happy with him :)

He might not understand everything, but he tries his absolute best to take mental notes of the trans experience to help you out with any struggles !

"I don't want you to ever feel uncomfortable or self-conscious with me, alright? I wanna make you happy."

Now, trans Engie? He doesn't need to learn as much, given he also knows the struggle of being constantly ostracized by the whole world.

But obviously he still wants to hear about your personal experience, since everyone has different journeys.

But it certainly is time saved not having to spend hours of explaining something he'll never fully understand (if he was cis)

He gets what it's like to be scrutinised for absolutely anything, put in a category or a box simply for being alive

For him, the whole being berated for his identity doesn't affect him anymore; he's solid in his identity.

But if anyone hurts you? As in, chip away at your confidence and leave you insecure?

It's all over for his patience.

He won't start a shouting match, or get physically violent, but he will definitely pull you away from the situation and give the person a firm warning to back off.

But after that he'll just lead you somewhere away and reassure you that you're just as valid as he is :')

"Some people stare, some people judge. Those types, they'll never understand. You ain't gotta worry about them, alright? You owe 'em nothing."

Once you two get back home/to base, he will shower you with all the affection you could ever ask for !!

Kisses on your temples, cheeks, hands,

Up your arm, down your neck, in between your legs

"Y'know, dreamin' about you ain't got nothing on the real thing."

He loves every part of you, even if you don't

In fact, he loves your body so much it's more than enough to make up for your own insecurities

But if you still don't believe him, he'll hopefully convince you by slowly coaxing you out of any of the remaining items of clothing you have, compliments flowing out his mouth like it was his first language.

"So handsome. I'm so lucky to have you. You make my world, honey."

Even if you don't want to do anything, he'll still comfort you, caressing your bare skin, guiding you to look at yourself in the mirror (if you can manage, of course)

"See? Look at you. I don't see how you could see this body as anything other than sexy."

Basically, he is in love with you and your body, and he's more than happy to prove it :)

[radicaldreemurrs]

just found your blog from that stupid twitter post: im incredibly sorry people are being mean to you. i feel like theres some sort of disconnect in how people view online discussions: if people dont like your tone they can be rude back, even though youre talking to yourself on your own blog and theyre coming in to harass you. maybe due to people forgetting that a tumblr 'blog' is supposed to be a journal of sorts. i hope you dont feel the need to temper your own expression for others. you arent giving a lecture.

anyway: i read through much of your posts describing your interpretation of the story. theres many things i could say but i dont find most of them relevant. people could stand here poking holes in each others arguments with facts and logic for hours and it wouldnt accomplish much of anything (especially since this argument stakes more on thematic preference and gut instincts than anything else at this point). where we are in the story any sort of read will have holes because we have half the story. people can try and 'get you' by asking how you justify the soul reading noelles thoughts or whatever, but its mostly to make themselves feel better that theyd sweat if someone asked them how theyd justify whatever else holes there certainly are in their takes. its easy to be insecure when your work will always be unfinished because youre working with paint that still has years to dry, i guess.

i find your read on the game completely fascinating and its making me consider facets i havent before. i think it provides incredibly nuanced reads of kris noelle and ralsei that people should look into whether or not they 'believe' you as i thnik theyre relevant anyways. the way i see it, honestly, is that the idea that the game about dissociation is true no matter how you look at it. in this interpretation, that is literal while the player commentary is a metaphor to service that. while in a standard read, the player commentary is literal while the dissociation aspect still exists as an allegory. they work in tandem and so i think people would find a lot in reading your work. that would make the game more complicated, of course, which i suppose is what people are afraid of.

theres really no point in people getting mad over your opinions differing from theirs seeing at the POINT of art is to interpret it in a way that is personal and meaningful to you. as someone with different life experiences, i cant fully agree with you, but i wouldnt be surprised if by the end of the game you were right on the money. who knows exactly where tobys working from after all. not to mention how undertale pulled the same trick with making you think flowey has meta awareness before rugpulling.

i hope you have a day that is not ruined by whatever obnoxious people are certainly currently in your askbox with me.

this was a very nice thing to receive today.... thank you very much for saying so. that's all i can ever hope for when i pose my own ideas, that it'll help people consider alternate perspectives and come up with interpretations of their own that relate to their experiences too, i always just wanna open up discussion and get new angles going. and yeah you're right, people could just try to keep poking holes in my argument thinking they're pulling some absolute gotcha but unfortunately for them i'm an adult human being with better things to do, and i don't owe my time to anyone who doesn't care to understand my experiences. i know this well by now, trust me.

and don't worry, i'm very stubborn. it would take a lot for me to change my temperament just cause some dickheads online didn't like the way i expressed my points. if it were that easy, i wouldn't be where i am now, heheh. i hope you have a good day too, this was very thoughtful of you to express.

[moth-flowers]

moth-flowers #21

[thebisexualwreckoning]

Ok yeah that might have possibly been the wrong wording to use but anyway this is solely based on where I am from but trans people are not really accepted like at all and even when they are it’s very much on a conditional basis that they perform their transsexuality in the heteronormative way, i.e. transfemmes must be subservient and transmascs must be domineering - even or especially in sexual roles otherwise they’re not really trans. It’s also the trans person must get with a cis person and not a fellow trans person to be even vaguely accepted within society. So Constantine being transmasc and being fucked in the ass by zatanna ‘added layers’ based on me extrapolating from my personal experiences of transmasculinity within my culture (which has still been pretty much nonexistent until very very recently) and forgetting that the opposite is true in most western countries where transmascs aren’t really allowed to be masculine and often forced to present as femme if they want to be accepted into a broader queer community.

Do we think constantine takes wizard testosterone.

[zeb-z]

I just think Tallulah gets to be upset about this. “It’s not Wilbur’s fault” “He’s not a bad dad” “He loves his daughter so much” yes! These are all true! And it’s not his fault! But he’s still not there. And Tallulah has gone through so much and still hasn’t seen him, the one time he was around was the one time she wasn’t, and all she has are letters and “I’m thinking of you always” and things that used to be theirs together, but he’s still not there. She’s waited and she’s been patient and she’s loved him all the same, and he’s still not there. Like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, from the happy milestones to the traumatic events, he’s still not there.

She knows that it’s not his fault, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s absent. That in and of itself just adds to the sorrow, because she knows why he’s gone, and she’s been told time and time again it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care, she knows this - it doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting, that it doesn’t hurt, that she doesn’t yearn for her father to be there more than anything in the world, and he’s just not there.

So yes, she gets to be upset, and be caustic, and stomp her feet and write bitter messages, and be angry and vitriolic, because she’s a little girl missing her father, who feels things with her whole heart and soul - and that means she gets to feel the ugly parts of it, too.

[tokkibean]

since im suddenly spouting (false??) wisdom, i js randomly thought of something else: don't treat your writing like its gold.

okay that sounds rly funny when i put it down on paper or screen, but like - another reason for my perfectionism, especially during rewrites, was because i loved my writing so much. the rhythm of certain lines. the wordplay. the repetition. so even though i knew that for the benefit of the whole story, this part should be edited a little, or even just changed completely, i didn't want to. because i liked them too much to just copy paste them into the document where i hoard all my pretty-but-useless lines, and i thought it was a waste of a genius moment.

and even when rewriting, i just kept adding those lines, which is kinda super, like, ineffective, because those lines are the ones causing me the problem. so i was just rewriting and rewriting the parts that are mostly fine, and that kinda made my interest in my own story run a little low.

and yeah obviously i grin like a proud maniac when i read back what i wrote and find gold, but like, i think its important to not value that gold too highly. like, let yourself accept that this line needs to go sometimes, and that you might have to change what you think is your 'best' writing, because its not, yk? like you may not always be able to stick to a certain style or write in a certain way the whole time, but you're still gna improve if you keep writing, and thats gna be hard to see because its like, improving in a different font yk.

okay thank you for listening to my ted talk anyway hope that wasnt too bad

im realising today that ACTUALLY ACTUALLY being non-perfectionistic and reclaiming my 12-year-old self to genuinely just write for the sake of nothing but having fun is so. much. better and easier than perfectionism.

the quality of my writing doesnt degrade either in fact i think it got better in terms of zoomed-out out flow, smoothness etc etc - i was kinda super busy and only wrote for like 35 minutes-ish today, but its definitely one of the best writing sessions i've had in like, weeks.

SO! moral of the story: perfectionism only makes writing harder. write because you love it, and you wouldn't be writing if you didn't. there's always a second draft anyway. i swear the words come out so much faster and nicer

[altschmerzes]

every time a post/poll goes around about being aspec and fandom shipping enjoyment/engagement/whatever im like. NOW can we stop acting like being an aromantic person who enjoys shipping is some kind of Weird Outlier Situation? can we stop acting like this is an Unpopular Opinion or even Persecuted Outcast Take rather than idk, the default standard, just like everywhere else? idk romance repulsed aromantics Yes Including Fiction aren’t the default or even a significant majority and it really drives me nuts when people act like aros who enjoy shipping are somehow Not exactly that.

[unnonexistence]

one of my friends is a biologist & i was really amused hearing some of her stories yesterday because they put into context just how believable newt's kaiju drift is as Shit A Biologist Would Do. like my friend has personally met both a guy who got infected with a botfly larva and didn't do anything to remove it (because he just didn't mind), and another guy who identified a tapeworm species by intentionally exposing himself to it (he had it narrowed down to 2 species and needed to know if it was the one that would infect humans) (it was)

[hopecomesbacktolife]

currently reading the Kenobi (sw legends) novel and it feels, like, written specifically for me… for reals… it keeps like. reaching into my chest and squeezing my heart. it keeps making me simultaneously happy and filled with ohsososo much sadness… oh Obi-Wan, beloved…

[storywestistrash]

learning some history for my gamer degree

[lala-blahblah]

I will never make this because it would be for an audience of one (me) but ever since reading "If we Were Villains" (story about serious drama kids in college who perform shakespeare and deal with a murder) I have been entertaining the thought of a crack fic crossover with High School Musical The Musical The Series where the staff decides they will no longer put on shakespeare after the tragic accident that happened at Thanksgiving, because Shakespeare plays would only increase the tension and drama. So they hire Ms. Jen who decides their spring play will actually be High School Musical (which exists in the 90s in this universe) and it ruins the vibe so much that everyone gives up on being dark and mysterious because they're universally pissed at Ms Jen for making them learn choreoraphed basketball dancing.

[fingertipsmp3]

Maybe I did this to myself but it does irk me when people see me knitting and they ask who it’s for and I say it’s for me and the immediate reaction is “you should sell it” yeah… let me spend at least a week’s worth of my free time making an item I like, want, and would wear just to sell it on etsy, making at most a £2 profit on materials and not being compensated for my time whatsoever 👍🏻

[seaofreverie]

I knew about the post concert depression but no one told me about the post concert constant feeling of AAAAAAAAAHHH that lasts days and makes everything much more bearable and beautiful and some sort of ethereal type of hope is restored into the world, or maybe it's just the "seeing your favourite band after first thinking that it would never happen and later spending many months waiting for it all the while fearing that it wouldn't happen after all because of circumstances outside my control or feeling like it was too beautiful and wonderful to be true so ofc it wouldn't come true" part of it all

[toilunderthemoon]

i have moderate anxious & people-pleasing tendencies so that the fact that a few of my moots and followers with “terfs dni” in their bios haven’t yet found out that I’m gender critical and blocked me, kind of. makes me uneasy