#and looking up words is not a failure!

[doriana-gray-games]

Hi! This must mean very little to you and you probably hear it many times before, but I really love your writing style and your story! English is not my first language and def something I'm not good at yet (most often I have to google translate sentences/phrases that I don't understand in IF Games - which sometimes it makes me stop playing the game halfway through) but your game/story is really... Uh... Easy(?) to understand and pictures it in my head! There are many times I caught myself smiling/giddy reading (esp in flirting/interacting w the ROs) and not to mention i didnt open the google translator the entire time I play your game which makes it much easier for me to immerse myself fully in the game!

Ah! I don't blame authors for using words or phrases I don't know, it is completely my own fault so please don't take it the wrong way! TT and I'm really sorry if I'm wording my words wrong or coming out as rude! (tho I can't wait for the day I master the English language and be able to play IF games without ever needing to google translate it!)

Anon, this is incredibly sweet and so wonderful to hear ❤️

I have the bad habit of not always posting loving messages (instead I read them, love them, and hoard them like a goblin!) but I wanted to make sure you did not think you said anything wrong as you seemed unsure about your English skills—your English is great and your message is super flattering and clear! And if you can read a story like this with a Victorian-esque style then you’re much better than you think. Trust me on this!

Hugs to lovely anon ❤️

[bittersweetresilience]

it feels cosmically unfair that i think about writing all the time want to write all the time and sit down to write all the time and i come up with two sentences at best. there should be some reward system i think

[piratekane]

title: baby, i've got a plan (run away fast as you can) note: for my main squeeze, @belikebumblebee. an effort.

Beatrice took her vows before God - has lived with them for years; thrived in their simplicity and the comfort they’ve brought her. They’ve been her constant, her center of gravity; a feeling in the middle of her chest that keeps her warm on the few nights where her resolve flickers like a dying candle, flame licking into the air searching for renewed life. 

It doesn’t happen often - her faith is unwavering - but in the first nights after Adriel, after Father Vincent, after Mary, she lays in bed next to a restless Ava and wonders: what is God’s reason for this?

She makes another covenant; another solemn promise on her knees in the lamplight of their one-bedroom flat, head bowed and fingertips pressed to her lips.

She vows herself to Ava.

(read on ao3)

[stardustedknuckles]

We accidentally overfed a dog at work because the directions given by the front desk AND by the owner were deeply unclear and passed down to us incorrectly so we had to call the mom and I'm thinking, like. She's going to be upset that we ran out of her dog's certain special food and even if we give him our wet food for free (obviously) we accidentally wasted what she sent and changing a dog's diet unexpectedly can cause tummy issues. That's an understandable level of upset and I hope we can make it right.

What she ACTUALLY yelled at my coworker about was the fact that NOW she has to take the dog to the VET because he ATE too much and how she "didn't sound very empathetic" (coworker is 21 and was trying desperately not to cry, which sounds pretty empathetic if you don't know it's from abject terror) and then she's like "I looked at the cameras and he seems lethargic!" alright well. You're straight up lying now. He's perfectly happy. He's just also a little round. The worst he's going to do is maybe barf and it'll be over before you pick him up. We'll be the ones cleaning it. He got two days of too much food. And he ate it all. He's literally fine. Maybe stop yelling at folks.

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[unclefungusthegoat]

.

[howifeltabouthim]

He had fucked up his life. He had done all of it wrong.

Taffy Brodesser-Akner, from Fleishman is in Trouble

[unproduciblesmackdown]

that moment when: everyone's lives are restricted and constricted and these imposed consequences are attributed to anyone's continual individual failures to seek, find, and follow the Correct Path through Life, and so everyone is left on their own to only be seeking & finding these failures as well as the only answer to how their lives can be better....versus Not seeing the world as the free marketplace meritocracy of everyone's personal failures/successes, nor everything in your own life, and thus not forever having to scrutinize Where You Must Be Bringing It Upon Yourself by fucking up or at least failing to do the correct thing, and exist only in perpetual punishment for your ongoing failure and occasional temporary reprieves from it. recognizing everything that wasn't & isn't & wouldn't be [this is because you're bringing it upon yourself] and thus having more capacity & capability to look at the realm of your personal individual self, reality, experiences, life through the perpetual instances of seeking, finding, and following your own needs/wants through one's inherent personhood and exercises of autonomy and recognition of where & when & how one recognizes moments of their existing freely & in more resonant genuine alignment with themself, you know? endless examples to be found in endless fractals of [where & how are people's lives made smaller]. and that of course this doesn't preclude the ability/option at any time to question one's choices, since you'll be able to find more Actual choices available to you (and, also crucially, find more actual choices made by others that are in the pursuit of limiting Yours) to look at, and people getting to exercise their autonomy isn't the same as "everyone doing anything they want regardless of how it affects others" since that [how does it affect others?] element instead being Regarded would be able to lead to recognizing that, in fact, an effect might be the infringement on others' autonomy, hence: There's A Problem....like the ability to just go ham with [questioning???] anything in existence, certainly including oneself, b/c the "norm" is such that rather you're only supposed to be able to question yourself for your failings (or those positioned as less than, thus, beneath you) and not even have the language to express a questioning of aspects of life beyond that b/c stop calling anyone "cis" they're just Normal, Just Be Normal and it would all be fine

[floral-hex]

me… sad boy

[futureofthemasses]

I don't know how people do not for profit work because I fucked up one fundraiser and I am ready to crawl into a hole and live there alone for the rest of my life like I deserve

[queen-beefcake-sqx]

I’ve started typing two different posts to justify writing a not-fully-sober Harry Du Bois instead of just writing the fucking fic.

[neil-gaiman]

I hope this finds you well. Today is the 10th anniversary of my sister's death. She died unexpectedly when she was 20, and I was 13. My sister was so full of energy and compassion for others. She befriended probably well over a hundred people, and knew each of them by name. She taught me something that I think is demonstrated really well in Coraline (and reading it reminded me of her)--that courage is not fearlessness, but it's being afraid and standing up to that fear regardless. Off and on since she died (though more on than off in the past 5ish years), I've struggled with depression and a feeling of pointlessness in my life. The realization that someone that vibrant can suddenly vanish off the Earth has never left me. And I don't shine nearly as bright as she did. It feels like no matter what I do, I'll never leave a significant impact. I've had a lot of difficulty with college, and I'm on my second leave of absence since starting my undergraduate studies. I don't really have any career goals and have had trouble finding a career path that would be interesting and fulfilling enough to me to feel like I could stick with it long enough to make a living. But I've been doing everything I can to keep going and keep trying to get to a more stable place emotionally. To finally find my footing. Every night before I turn in I like to look at your posts on here. I find the words and advice you give to others very comforting. So, I'd first like to thank you for sharing your kindness and humor with everyone. And I'd also like to ask if you'd have any kind words or advice for me. Thanks for your time.

The main thing you should probably remember is that from the inside your sister didn't realise how bright and sparkling and energetic and compassionate she was either. We know ourselves from the inside, see only too well our pain and clumsiness, our depressions and our failures.

She was a light for you. You'd be surprised to find that you are a light for others. You shine. (Whoever you are reading this, I promise you this: you shine, and you will leave your own impact on the world.)

[anamelesstraveler]

Soap blinks awake, only to find the tall figure of Ghost is standing beside the bed. It should be unnerving, to look up and see the white skull staring back down at him. But Soap is never afraid.

“Hey, Ghost,” he greets sluggishly. “Y’okay?”

He’s come to ask the same thing every night he finds Ghost in his room. Because like a child after a nightmare, there’s just something… small about the way Ghost stands near him. Which is absolute insanity, because the apparition would tower head and shoulders over Soap any day. There just seems to be something about Ghost that shrinks in on itself those nights, standing silent and still at his bedside. And looking at him like this, somewhere in his sleep-addled mind, Soap’s hands itch to reach out. He finds himself staring at Ghost’s hands, nearly invisible from the black mass of him.

“Y’keep comin’ back,” he whispers. “So you do like me, huh? ‘M not so bad.”

The shape of Ghost shudders - a laugh?

“...’hnny–” Ghost’s voice dips in and out of focus, half a word coherent and then the next hopelessly smothered into whispers. But for the first time, Soap watches as Ghost seems to stoop even further at the failure, a real, heartbreakingly human frustration etched in every part of him. His massive form shifts, a hand separating from the void of his body. Does Ghost want to reach out just as badly as he does?

Is he lonely like this? Soap wonders. Trapped in this existence for who knows how long? 

-Ch3, Silence Lay Steadily

So excited to share this commission that @bluegiragi did for me!! Gira, I can't thank you enough for taking this on ❤

[sukunasteeth]

Marks

Sukuna doesn't understand the hold you have on him.

He's never particularly been a people person. In fact, people annoyed him. This has held true ever since he was a child with his twin brother, Yuji. That is, until Yuji brought you home one fateful day in middle school, claiming to have met a new friend. 

You, with your sweet little smile, and your boundlessly generous heart. You with your giggle that chimes through his darkened soul like a golden bell. With the innocent rosy lips that he'd dreamed of having his first kiss with until high school, when it finally came to fruition. You had been irrevocably his ever since then, and it had been almost seven years.

So why does it still feel like you're the one with all the power here?

Why does it feel like you could create a monster out of him if you truly wanted to? Why does it feel like he's constantly at your beck and call? Why are you the one person on this green earth that reduces him to the feeling of an emotion as pathetic as helplessness?

"'Kuna...hurts..."

He'll admit, he takes it out on you.

Like now, when you're lying naked beneath him (his favorite spot to have you in) and begging him to take it easy on you. He's got you covered in sweat, exerting you to your ultimate limit. He loved to see you train until failure, after all. Adored the way your legs quivered when he relentlessly made you keep riding him, despite your exhaustion. Cooed at the way you begged him to be gentle, even though he knows you prefer it rough. You were quick to submit when he had you behind closed doors, despite how independent you appeared outside of them. Sukuna knew you better. Knew how much you loved following his direction. Receiving his praise.

You were lucky you were such a good girl.

Sukuna was torturing you now already, and you hadn't even disobeyed him. He can't imagine what he would do if you were unruly. Actually, he can. And the thought has him salivating even more as he sucks relentlessly at the nape of your neck. You're covered in marks from his teeth or the raw scrape of his tongue. Your throat has been tormented by his worship to the extent that he's even broken skin in the spots where he can feel your pulse beneath his lips.

Even Sukuna has to admit that you didn't deserve this abuse. You hadn't done a thing out of line, besides selfishly tearing the heart out of his chest for good. It was yours now.

The thought makes him growl against you.

God, you weren't even trying.

Your victory over him was so effortless.

It pissed him off.

He doesn't realize that he's bitten you particularly hard until you're suddenly recoiling away, burrowing yourself into his pillows with a small yelp. Your hand has sprung up to press your palm over Sukuna's mouth in some weak attempt at getting him to stop. Your other hand holds your throat as you purse your lips at him, which have also seen a good amount of Sukuna's biting that day.

You looked good in his teeth marks, what can he say?

"Are you mad or something?" You're blinking up at him like a confused little deer. Sukuna can't help that it makes him hungry. You were a perfect prey to him and he would be chasing you to the end of this lifetime. He could tell solely in the way that your stupid little nickname for him makes his heartstrings snap.

He takes a frustrated breath through his nose over your hand, nipping at your fingers over his mouth like a muzzled dog. Before you can pull them away, he's grasping your wrist tightly, his unforgiving grip a warning in itself. Easily, he pins it to the side of your head, rendering you halfway useless.

"Don't interrupt." He murmurs, his gaze burning into yours.

A helpless sob escapes you, but otherwise you stop trying to squirm away from him. You allow the onslaught to continue without a peep, bracing yourself each and every time a new hickey is being bruised into your skin. He doesn't offer you any words in terms of praise, but his grip on your wrist eventually loosens a bit. He never fully lets you go, though.

While he appreciates your cooperation, you eventually go almost too quiet and Sukuna thinks for a moment that maybe he's pushed you too far. He pulls away from your neck to look at you, finding your pink little face screwed up in an intense mixture of pleasure and agony. He feels a content smile spread across his face but it's cut short when his eyes hone in on your lips, which you're currently biting hard enough to draw blood from.

His free hand reaches up and grasps your chin, pressing his thumb below your bottom lip and forcing you to relinquish it. You blink slowly, your logical brain having exhausted itself up until this point. You easily let him pry your teeth apart, panting in his grasp. 

"Mouth. Open." He commands.

You squirm in your overwhelming frustration, whining. "It hurts, 'Kuna!"

Sukuna hums in a mock sympathy, watching you suffer with a satisfied grin. You would have these marks for weeks. There were so many now, some more intense than others, and he wasn't even close to being done with you.

"You're being cruel." You accuse, watching your own hardship twinkle back at you in the reflection of his eyes. Your pout is purple and bruised from your attempts to keep quiet. Sukuna leans in closer and presses the sweetest kiss to your lips, as soft as the brush of a feather.

What was cruel was the fact that you had broken down everything Sukuna had ever known about himself. His strength was putty at your feet. His hatred for the world was a joke in your presence. His pride, a mere memory at the touch of your fingertips against his soul.

"You think this is cruel?" He whispers, mocking you. His voice is the taunt of a devilish trickster. "I think I've been going too easy on you. Allow me to rectify that."

There really is no curse more cruel than love.

[arvandus]

Gojo had never intended to make you cry.  Sure, he teased you.  Maybe a little bit too much.  But he never wanted to actually hurt you.  He was a cocky ass, but he wasn’t an asshole.

That’s what he wanted to tell himself anyway, even as your wide eyes brimmed with tears that clung to your lashes.  It felt like a punch to the gut when the first tear fell.

Without even thinking, his hand came up to gently cup your cheek.  “Don’t...” he whispered.  His thumb swiped away at the wet track.  “Don’t cry.”

But it was too late; more tears fell, leaving wet lines in their wake, the droplets clinging to your chin. He hated the sight of them; hated the way they documented his failure, a sentence of guilt written in watercolor against skin he’d admired with every sideways glance.

He wanted to make them disappear, to extinguish them and replace them with warmth.  To take your trembling lips and make them smile again.  Gojo cradled your face in both of his hands, his large, calloused thumbs wiping away at your tears.  You closed your eyes, caught up in the way your heart twisted in your chest at the warmth of his touch.

You felt his forehead touch yours, his soft hair cushioned between you.  “I’m sorry...” he whispered. “I didn’t mean...”

Gojo’s words died on his lips as he felt more fresh, hot tears catch on his thumbs, heard you sniffle and try to hide the soft sob that wanted to unfurl from within your chest. 

His air left his lungs, a slow panic building at the possibility that maybe, this time, a sorry wouldn’t be enough. That maybe, this time, there was no such thing as forgiveness, and that he’d never again get to see you smile at him.

“I’m sorry...” he repeated, as his lips pressed gently against your forehead.  You froze beneath his affection, stunned.

He didn’t stop there.  His lips traveled lower, brushing against your wet lashes, against your cheeks, each time echoing his apology in earnest supplication.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Finally, he came to your still-trembling lips, the soft flesh wet where you’d licked with your tongue, although whether it was in anticipation of his lips or to taste your own tears, he wasn’t sure.  Gojo hesitated, for just the slightest fraction of a moment, waiting...

And then you gave it to him, the sign he was looking for. The ever so subtle tilt of your chin, the flutter of lashes as you peaked at him through the dew drops in hope.

His lips met yours, soft and gentle, your face still gently cupped in his hands. You finally responded, returning the kiss with your hands wrapping around his neck, your fingers curling into his hair at the nape of his neck.

Gojo pulled away just enough to be able to speak, his lips barely brushing yours.  Your eyes were open now, staring into his, and for a moment the universe consisted of just the two of you, two celestial bodies drawn together by the gravity of your hearts.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven...?” he whispered.

“No.” you replied with a grin.

[yawnderu]

Situationship!Ghost seeing you cry for the first time while having sex save me...... save me Situationship!Ghost seeing you cry for the first time while having sex

His hips halt the moment he sees you're not fully into it, the same eyes that used to look up at him with raw admiration are now distantly looking at the ceiling with a familiar gloss in them, your moans timed and fake. He slowly pulls out of you, pulling the blanket over your naked bodies, yet keeping his distance.

''What is it?'' He asks with a small sigh, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to why you even initiated things if you're not even into it.

''I'm sorry— I can't do this.'' Your attempts to get up are interrupted by Simon pulling you back into bed, one hand gently grasping your jaw to make sure you're looking directly at him even when your vision gets blurry and the dam finally breaks. Cruel bastard he is, wanting to see you cry.

The sound of your sobs rips into his heart without hesitation. There isn't another sound he hates more. You should be laughing, the giggles that secretly make him so happy should be coming out of you rather than these loud sobs. He knows you're in pain— he knows he's the one who caused it, and he can't forgive himself for hurting someone he loves so much, even when he hasn't come to terms with it.

His arms wrap around your body, one of his warm hands running up and down your back and squeezing you tightly against his body, feeling the mix of warm tears and snot wet his bare chest. It breaks his heart to feel the way you cling to him in a state of such brokenness, the way you trust him so much despite all his failures and mistakes.

'''M sorry, angel. I'm so sorry.'' He whispers right into your ear, his apologies only for you to hear as he rocks you from side to side, gently wiping the tears from your eyes with the palm of his hand. He doesn't have any other words for you, only the silent reassurance that you'll always be safe in his arms.