#and comparison is the thief of joy

[eggsdoodz]

🩷🌷🐑⭐️🎀

[turtlecleric]

Bay!Mikey x reader, soulmate au - ink on your skin is mirrored on theirs until it’s wiped off

Cws: implied/referenced self-harm

-

You’d heard about the butterfly project online somewhere. It had felt silly, at first, to think they might actually help, but… you were getting a little bit desperate. So you’d bought some markers. Locked your door. Pulled the fabric of your shorts down so they’d bunch up close to your hips. And started drawing.

Now that you’re done, you’re surprised to find that you really, really like them. You’ve drawn them tiny, with little rounded wings and splashes of your favorite colors. They actually make you smile, and it’s been a long time since you’ve been able to do that while looking at your legs. 

You wonder if he’ll ask you about them. He often sends little messages your way, written on your forearm. Maybe if you stare at your arm long enough, you’ll see his messy scrawl appear. Something like, “Oh, so you like butterflies? My favorite kind are the ones you give me!”

God. You can’t believe you miss a person you haven’t even met yet. 

For the millionth time, you wonder what he looks like. What he sounds like. It doesn’t really matter, since you already know the things that do matter. You know that he’s kind. And funny. And excited to meet you one day.

…So why hasn’t he? You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. You’ve asked him multiple times to meet up, but there’s always something that comes up. 

Maybe… maybe it’s you. Maybe he can tell that you’re… but no, that doesn't make sense. He really does seem like he likes talking to you. Like he wants to meet you one day. It’s only been a few months since your soul ink started to appear, and some soulmates go years before they meet up for the first time.

You hope you don’t have to wait that long. 

Sighing, you brush a thumb along the wings of one of the butterflies. It had seemed so pretty at first, but now… you can’t help but stare at the lines visible beneath the ink.

You try to focus back on the butterflies.

You’d been proud of them. Thought they were cute. Thought that maybe he might find them cute, too. But the longer you stare, the more you wonder if he might not find them cute. What if he’s… annoyed. That you drew all over yourself without consulting him first. He has to deal with this, too, after all. They’re in an easy to hide place, but still. Maybe you should have asked his permission. Maybe you should have been more considerate of the possibility that he might not want to have his thighs covered in little butterflies. The project isn’t a one night deal, either. You have to keep drawing them back on, you can’t let the butterflies fade until the urges fade. It’s been years at this point - did you really think this was a good idea? Trying this method when you have your soulmate to think about? What if he hates them? What if he hates people who might need something like this? What if he knows about the butterfly project, and seeing this is the last straw, and he never speaks to you ag-

You inhale sharply at the sight of blank ink blooming in one of the empty spaces on your thigh. Mesmerized, you watch as the ink curls and glides, slowly but surely, into a picture.

A flower. 

Another one appears in the empty space between two other butterflies. Your hand raises to cover your mouth as you watch more and more appear. It’s calming, watching them swirl into existence. Some are tiny, delicate things. Others are large enough for little details. Shadows and textures, leaves and stems and… wow. 

You hadn’t realized he was an artist. There’s no way he isn’t, with how breathtaking these flowers are. And he’d just… he’d just done it, like it was nothing. Turned your skin into a work of art in less than 15 minutes. Somehow taken your pathetic little butterflies and woven them into a complete piece that you could stare at for hours and not get bored. 

It’s incredible.

You feel like you should… say something. You grab a marker and hesitate, unsure, before deciding on just being honest with him.

They’re beautiful!

It takes only a moment before you see him start to write back. It’s a little funny, seeing his chicken scratch and then glancing over to the beautiful pieces of art that he’s turned your legs into. Just another thing about him that makes you smile. But when you see his response, your smile drops.

Beautiful flowers for my beautiful girl

You’re not sure why that makes you start to cry. He’s called you beautiful before. Not that he could possibly mean it - you haven’t met yet, you haven’t even exchanged last names or numbers or anything, but… something about it feels… genuine. Genuine in a way that it really shouldn’t be. How could he mean that when he has no clue what you look like? Surely he wouldn’t say that if he did know, I mean, look at you.

But. Somehow. Somehow. You know he means it. 

You grab a wipe from your bedside table, clearing your first message from your arm. His words disappear, as well, and part of you mourns the physical proof of those words, but then he starts to- oh my god. He’s writing down a phone number. It’s- it’s got to be his phone number, right? What else could it be? You don’t have long to wonder, because then you see another message appear. 

If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you. Don’t kill the butterflies, okay?

Don’t kill the butterflies. He knows. He knows. And he still- he still wants to talk to you. 

You shouldn’t call him right now. You’re an emotional mess. It’s late, too, and you have no idea if he has to be up early tomorrow. But. But you- he finally gave you- and you just- you just-

Your hands shake as you dial the number. How could you not call him now? How could you possibly wait another second to finally hear his voice? How could you-

“Hey sunshine,” he says - and, oh. His voice. His voice makes you smile so hard your cheeks start to hurt. Sunshine, he’d called you. Fitting, you think, since it suddenly feels like you’ve swallowed the sun and rays are surely shining through the spaces between your ribs. “I’m glad you called.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, sniffling and tracing one of the bigger flowers with a finger. “Me too.”

-

tag list: @luckycharms1701 @yorshie @thejudiciousneurotic @khayalli @justalotoffanfiction @thelaundrybitch @mxalmighty @shakeyourtrees

[lousydrawingsforgoodpeople]

[connormccafferyhater]

Paige will not be able to live up to the CC rookie year comparison. Unfortunately people will downplay how good she actually is (because she won’t be able to match CC numbers). Paige is great but she’s being set up for failure. She will also be viscously attacked by CC fans and majority of the league won’t go easy on her. I pray she stays healthy and keeps building muscle because her body couldn’t survive half the hits CC took this season.

you can probably say that abt any rookie in the next 10 years i’m afraid to admit, she’s probably the best rookie of all time right under candace parker maybe even better, but her not getting mvp is gonna affect that argument. i think another reason why paige didn’t enter the draft is because of how overshadowed she’d get by caitlin like all the other rookies despite being the #1 recruit going into college. i think paige will be fine, it’s not fair to compare them, they’re both great players. let’s just leave it at that.

[wri0thesley]

considering how hard i push on your blog your rules post what you like i feel so so silly posting self ship stuff on my blog like you’re all rolling your eyes ready to unfollow bc of course [f/o] wouldn’t love you, nat. we are simply putting up with your other posts until you get back to posting the only thing anyone follows you for, sexy self-insert porn. in fact i constantly worry posting self ship stuff puts people off my reader-insert things tbh bc reader insert writers should be soulless appearanceless blank slate writing machines. this is all probably very silly; nobody really thinks like that. and yet the thoughts plague me every time i post.

[unhappy-sometimes]

ngl i kinda dread seeing those “this was my art in 2020 and this is my art now” post because i’m looking back at my art in 2020 and i’ve definitely gotten worse :/

it is not a good feeling.

[technoregression]

Help I’m taking psychic and emotional damage (scrolling through a tumblr homosexual’s #me tag #gaygpoy tag)

[mothlingmeg]

I existed long before i met you. I lived before I knew you. I loved things before we ever spoke for the first time. Your perception of me is small and incomplete. I do not owe it to you to change myself or stay in one place forever. I will take up space.

[soupbtch]

ummm. my fic is done.

[thesecondrobinisthebestrobin]

I always get rly discouraged about sharing my art whether it be fanart or OC art :') but my sis said i should upload it so here's a little bit of oc art (its a lil vampire au)

[kneelbeforezod]

Hating on other people's success and happiness just isn't in me. I'm either happy for you or not thinking about you at all, tbh.

[lousydrawingsforgoodpeople]

[howifeltabouthim]

He talked on and on, and I wanted to be happy for him but only began to feel sorry for myself.

Rachel Khong, from Real Americans

[kaatiba]

i guess i should just accept that i am primarily a fanfiction writer. i've completed one (1) long-form original work in my whole life and it's increasingly feeling like a fluke. i've written two "collections" of prompt fills, which are very like fanfiction as you take someone else's idea and run off with it, but they're not short stories really, as they're not complete narratives, just expansions. fanfiction I can write quickly and easily and well and I almost always finish them. but I can't do the same with og work no matter how hard I try. And maybe that'll change in the future but I just feel like a failure and a fraud and a flop

[narugen]

growing up in a competitive country/school just means i’m like oh man when i don’t get as much recognition as other people and then i move on bc some ppl are just better and ill just have to create better stuff no biggie