#because sometimes my filter is broken

[goatsandgangsters]

how to find literally any post on a blog in seconds (on desktop)

there are so many posts about ~tumblr is so broken, you can’t find any post on your own blog, it’s impossible, bluhrblub~

I am here to tell you otherwise! it is in fact INCREDIBLY easy to find a post on a blog if you’re on desktop/browser and you know what you’re doing:

url.tumblr.com/tagged/croissant will bring up EVERY post on the blog tagged with the specific and exact phrase #croissant. every single post, every single time. in chronological order starting with the most recent post. note: it will not find #croissants or that time you made the typo #croidnssants. for a tag with multiple words, it’s just /tagged/my-croissant and it will show you everything with the exact phrase #my croissant

url.tumblr.com/tagged/croissant/chrono will bring up EVERY post on the blog tagged with the exact phrase #croissant, but it will show them in reverse order with the oldest first 

url.tumblr.com/search/croissant isn’t as perfect at finding everything, but it’s generally loads better than the search on mobile. it will find a good array of posts that have the word croissant in them somewhere. could be in the body of the post (op captioned it “look at my croissant”) or in the tags (#man I want a croissant). it won’t necessarily find EVERYTHING like /tagged/ does, but I find it’s still more reliable than search on mobile. you can sometimes even find posts by a specific user by searching their url. also, unlike whatever random assortment tumblr mobile pulls up, it will still show them in a more logically chronological order

url.tumblr.com/day/2020/11/05 will show you every post on the blog from november 5th, 2020, in case you’re taking a break from croissants to look for destiel election memes 

url.tumblr.com/archive/ is search paradise. easily go to a particular month and see all posts as thumbnails! search by post type! search by tags but as thumbnails now

url.tumblr.com/archive/filter-by/audio will show you every audio post on your blog (you can also filter by other post types). sometimes a little imperfect if you’re looking for a video when the op embedded the video in a text post instead of posting as a video post, etc

url.tumblr.com/archive/tagged/croissant will show you EVERY post on the blog tagged with the specific and exact phrase #croissant, but it will show you them in the archive thumbnail view divided by months. very useful if you’re looking for a specific picture of a croissant that was reblogged 6 months ago and want to be able to scan for it quickly 

url.tumblr.com/archive/filter-by/audio/tagged/croissant will show you every audio post tagged with the specific phrase #croissant (you can also filter by photo or text instead, because I don’t know why you have audio posts tagged croissant) 

the tag system on desktop tumblr is GENUINELY amazing for searching within a specific blog! 

caveat: this assumes a person HAS a desktop theme (or “custom theme”) enabled. a “custom theme” is url.tumblr.com, as opposed to tumblr.com/url. I’ve heard you have to opt-into the former now, when it used to be the default, so not everyone HAS a custom theme where you can use all those neat url tricks. 

if the person doesn’t have a “custom theme” enabled, you’re beholden to the search bar. still, I’ve found the search bar on tumblr.com/url is WAY more reliable than search on mobile. for starters, it tends to bring posts up in a sensible order, instead of dredging up random posts from 2013 before anything else

if you’re on mobile, I’m sorry. godspeed and good luck finding anything. (my one tip is that if you’re able to click ON a tag rather than go through the search bar, you’ll have better luck. if your mutual has recently reblogged a post tagged #croissant, you can click #croissant and it’ll bring up everything tagged #croissant just like /tagged/croissant. but if there’s no readily available tag to click on, you have to rely on the mobile search bar and its weird bizarre whims) 

[ellieslob]

★ streamer ellie!

ways to help palestine!!!

S★ she started with fornite and minecraft gameplays but went viral for playing girly video games and screaming with pure rage and desperation if she loses or if her chat tells her the outfit she made was ugly asf😭

S★ she deadass will say “u guys clearly don’t know about fashion like i do” n then pull outfits like this:

S★ she used to be so fucking afraid that her face reveal went like dream’s that she posponed that shit for like a year. when she finally did it she ended the stream, turned off her phone and went to bed covering her body completely, while sniffing and crying “my career is over ”

S★ after her face revealed her account went even more viral, people started to make thirst traps of her and edits, videos, even fanfics, she got a little more comfortable with showing her face. her favorite edits were to songs like ride, baby by me, hey daddy (daddy’s home) and a song in spanish called vaquero, they were just so funny to her😭

iloveellie: she’s daddying so hard‼️

ewisinthechat: aw you guys really see me as a father figure?😺🫶

brondon444: 😭

kvcjjsaj: 😭

loverboydsa: 😭😭😭

“hey why is everyone crying in the chat, is everyone okay?”

S★ she really loves the cat emojis, specially this one 😻

S★ out of all her platforms (aside from twitch) she uses twitter the most, she tweets without a second thought in that head, without filter, like zero hesitation and then apologizes if she said something way too controversial.

ewisinthechat2: have you had that feeling when someone is so stupid you want to stab your eye with a fork? #kys

ewisinthechat2: k, i guess u have not😅…

S★ she was practically new to tiktok, so the first moths she had her likes public, she didn’t even know that was possible on the app. but if you click on it all you could see were shit post and memes that a dad would like, all except for a big section of aprox thirteen videos, one after the other, all with the same girl.

sckerforellie18: did u guys saw ellie’s likes? i think she’s stalking that poor girl😭

slaybabesew: HAHAH WAIT IS REAL, IS SHE HER GILFRIEND???

elliesaheymamasg: she’s so hot wait😩

heyemogirlbb: it’s her @girlypop666

S★ the chat started to tag you to every single one of her videos on tiktok, her photos on instagram, tagging you on things like “hi, could you please date my mom?🤗” or “my new mommie😻” EVEN in her questionable tweets telling you “we know she’s crazy but give her a chance😭”

S★ one day you waked up to your phone being practically broken from all the notifications, you still had your little pink iphone 6 and you had to buy another one because of it.

Instagram

girlypop: hi um i don’t think we really know each other but people are tagging me on your videos😭 love them though

S★ ellie was in a stream, the chat had to make her laugh and spit the water so she was reacting to videos that her chat had send her. when that notification appear on the screen, she read it, gulped the water, looked dead ass serious at the camera and turned off the stream.

elliewilliasm: omg hi, im so sorry i didn’t know, I’ll tell them to spot

elliewilliasm: spot*

elliewilliasm: STOP**😭

you laughed in your new phone, she was funny, and for what you had seen in all the posts that you were tagged on, very pretty too.

girlypop: hey would you like to grab coffee sometime?

ewisinthechat: TO EVERYBODY IN THE CHAT, THANK YOU, YOU GUYS ARE THE FUCKIN BEST, LOVE YALL, IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE YOU, XOXO😻😻😻😻

GIVEAWAY COMIN FUCKIN SOON💯💯‼️

S★ she was exhausted when she jumped to her bed, after all the crying, screaming, jumping and the extreme tweeting that just said “YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES”, she unlocked her phone again.

elliewiliasm: yeah sure :)

REBLOG AND COMENT

IF YOU WANT TO BE IN THE TAG LIST

[alexthetrashyracoon]

Sometimes Simon wakes up in the middle of the night, heaving harshly and clutching the weighted blanket you brought him for Christmas one year. His eyes are open but he can’t really move.

“Simon.” You would whisper, his eyes immediately jumping to their corners and looking at you as you sit on your shared bed, bathing in the silvery light of the moon that falls through the window. “You’re home.” You tell him and he believes you, at least his body starts to believe you, his mind is still back on whatever battlefield.

Neither of you move, you because you don’t want to startle him and trigger his fight or flight reflexes, and Simon doesn’t move because he simply can’t.

“Talk to me, love.” Simon will plead you, his voice only heard thanks to the silence of the room between you.

At first you don’t know what to talk about but soon words spill from your lips easily, you talk about your work and what happened there, your family and how your siblings children have grown so much and that they all missed Simon.

When the first rays of sunlight filter through the curtains and your throat starts to be dry, Simon slowly moves and sits up. “Thank you.” He says in earnest and looks at you. “I know it’s not always easy with me,” Simon knows he’s broken and he wouldn’t blame you for leaving him behind. “But everyday I’m more and more thankful for you in my life.”

And everyday you surprise him with that soft smile from your lips and a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Through thick and thin, Simon Riley. With all your broken parts and imperfections.”

[mothandpidgeon]

While the Baby Sleeps (demon!Ezra x f!reader)

pairing: demon!Ezra x f!reader (mom!reader)

rating: E! 18+!

wc: 2.6k

summary: The only way to get your baby to sleep through the night is making a deal with an unholy creature. But, of course, there are consequences...

tags: dark fic, Dub/non con (making a deal with a demon), breastfeeding, nursing, lactation kink, mommy kink? (but not like that), stretch marks, oral sex, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, horns, Ezra is a sex demon, moth never uses y/n

an: Here is my submission to #MothandBirdMothersDayChallenge! Actually this fic is the reason why I wanted to do this challenge. Sometimes when I'm in the dark nursery in the middle of the night, I have fun intrusive thoughts like 'What if there was a shadowy figure in the doorway?' To combat how terrifying that thought is, I took it and made it horny. Thank you @ezrasbirdie for betaing this, helping me do this Mother's Day Challenge, and all around being a cool auntie to my fics and baby Moth.

 ...

He wakes you every night. It doesn’t matter what you try. Your son hasn't let you have more than three consecutive hours of sleep since he was born. 

You’re at your wit’s end. 

Every time you look in the mirror you see a hollowed out version of yourself with dark bags under your eyes. You make yourself coffee without putting grounds into the filter. You fly into a tearful rage when you spill a bottle of precious milk. You don’t know who you are anymore. 

Tonight’s no different. You lift your crying baby from his crib. Rock him, shush him. You sit with him in the glider and try to nurse him back to sleep. It’s all done bleary-eyed, half asleep. Everything is these days. 

You’d give anything for this baby to sleep. 

Just as the thought crosses your mind, you look up to see a figure standing just outside the nursery. It’s shadowy against the dark of the hallway, shades of gray on black. From the height and broad shoulders, it could be a man. He stands abnormally still. Silent, watching. You think it’s just a trick of your sleep deprived mind until he moves just slightly and a patch of silver hair is caught in the moonlight. 

You must be dreaming because if there was a man in your baby’s room, you’d be terrified. And you’re not. You feel calm like you’re floating on steady waters. 

“Who are you?” you ask. Your voice drifts like a lullaby. 

He doesn’t respond, just leans in the doorway. All that you can make out is that blonde hair and two eyes that glint at you.

“I’ve come to help you, petal,” he finally says. His voice is warm and melodic.

You feel yourself nodding off for a moment. When you blink yourself awake, he’s by your side.

You can make out his features better now. Dark stubble covers a handsome face. The sharp angles of his nose and jaw are silhouetted in the dim. You smell woodsmoke and frankincense as he comes near. He kneels beside the chair and his brow furrows as he looks up at you.

“You need that child to rest,” he says. 

You nod pathetically. You can feel familiar tears well in your eyes. Hopeless, helpless. Desperate. 

“I can be of assistance,” he says. 

“Don’t hurt him,” you say, holding your son a bit closer to your chest.  Your baby might be torturing you in the night but you love him. You won’t let anything happen to him. Even though you’re sure you’re dreaming, you remember old fairy tales, creatures that try to trick and deceive. This man isn’t human, you know that somewhere deep inside you. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I won’t even touch him. It’s not the babe that’s piqued my interest. It’s his mother,” he explains. His obsidian eyes are on your lips, pink tongue darts out to lick his own. 

“Don’t hurt me either,” you say, though there’s no fight in your words. 

“That’s not my intention at all. Quite the opposite. You’re so beautiful, petal,” he coos, brushing his knuckles across your jawline. 

It must be a dream because you haven’t felt beautiful in a long time. Your body’s been stretched and broken, engorged and swollen. Your hair falls out by the handful. Your breasts reek of sweat and milk, a sickly funk. 

“I want you. Carnally,” he says.  

The growl in his voice makes warmth pool between your thighs. He looks at you like something divine, an awe over his features. His light touch moves down your neck and over your collarbone sending goosebumps over your skin. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel anything other than exhausted, touched in a way that isn’t a demand for food or comfort. 

“Let me have that and that boy will slumber like an angel,” he promises. He watches your baby suckling himself back to sleep.

It sounds so good. Suddenly the only thing you want more than a a night’s sleep is for this stranger to pleasure you, to be inside of you. You haven’t felt desire in just about as long as you haven’t slept. You’ve barely been able to shower and feed yourself let alone take care of your own needs.

“Put the child in his cot and go to bed. Tomorrow I’ll come for you and you’ll see,” he says.

“Who are you?” you ask again.

“I’m Ezra,” he whispers.

You wake up in your bed the next morning and you’ve slept like the dead.

That strange dream haunts you but you think of it as nothing more than that. When you put your son down to sleep the next night, you don’t expect any miracles. He goes down easily enough, a nice little fluke, and you decide to turn in early yourself. 

Its nearly midnight when you wake up but you realize it’s quiet. The baby isn’t crying for you. You glance at the monitor and see that he’s sleeping soundly, sucking away at this pacifier. Just as Ezra promised. 

Relief floods your veins. You put your head back against the pillow and your eyes drift close. As you begin to return to sleep, there’s a shift in the bed and you catch that earthy scent again. You gasp when you see Ezra’s black eyes. He’s beside you, the pad of his thumb tracing the plump of your lower lip. His chest is a wide golden plane littered with white scars, dusted with dark hairs. 

“Hush, petal,” he says. “I’ve kept my promise. And now I’ve come to ravish you.”

You want to tell him that you’re tired. You finally have the opportunity to go back to sleep and you shouldn’t let anything come between you and that sweet rest. But the same, strong want that you felt the night before is calling you. An ache runs between your legs up to where Ezra’s hand glides over the delicate skin on your pulse. You're powerless to stop your own desire from sabotaging the one thing you’ve wanted.

A languid sigh leaves you as you melt into his touch. 

Ezra sucks at your neck. You’ll have a black and blue mark from his teeth but the sensation is so delicious, you can’t bring yourself to care. 

He opens your legs and notches his hips between yours. The friction of his hard cock against your panties makes your back arch. 

“I want to taste you,” he says. 

He rucks up the ratty old t-shirt that you sleep in along with the nursing bra that’s constantly saturated with leaking milk. He takes a long moment to savor the sight of you so exposed, a smile twitching on his lips. A long, low growl leaves him as he slithers down your body, gathering your breasts in his big hands and bringing his face to nuzzle in your skin.

You hear him inhale deeply, taking in your scent. The stubble of his cheek scratches at your sensitive flesh. One thick finger circles your peaked nipple nice and slow. Your body responds— a bead of milk seeps out and rolls down to the valley between your breasts.

Your breath catches at the mix of sensations. Your cheeks heat and you can’t help the embarrassment that creeps up your spine. Much to your surprise, Ezra’s eyes widen with interest. He lowers himself and  traces the wet trail with the flat of his tongue. You can only imagine what he tastes– the musk of your sweat beneath sweet milk. It seems that he likes it. He closes his lips around your nipple and lavishes it with his tongue, groaning into your flesh. 

“Shit,” you gasp. 

You feel the tingle of letdown behind your breasts, his ministrations summoning more milk. Soon Ezra is drinking from you, grunting and rutting his hips against you. The other, neglected nipple weeps milk and he pauses to lap it up greedily. You tangle your hand into his hair and that’s when you feel it. There’s a raised bump amidst his curls but it’s hard as bone. It sits just above his forehead and stands only an inch high. As your fingers rake through his hair, you find another. Horns.

The terror you expect never comes. He might be something ungodly and all you feel is a building excitement. Everything about this is wrong but the world feels upside down. 

He comes away, his plush bottom lip glistening with pearlescent milk. It’s a sight that should repulse you but in the delirium of sleeplessness and lust, it just makes you hungry.

“You are an exquisite creature,” he purrs. 

His flat palm skates down your belly where you’re middle still holds baby weight, a reminder that your body is no longer your own. He peels your panties down your thighs. You feel the fine edges of his teeth against your skin. He penetrates you with two exquisitely thick fingers. No warning but you hardly need it— you’re already slick. 

You keen, back arching off of the mattress, and the sensation is doubled when he puts his lips to your clit and sucks with the same enthusiasm he had at your breast. His wide shoulders spread your knees to make room for his body. You drown in pleasure, a heady mixture of fire doused in the thick pool of sleepiness. Floating, sinking, cresting on a wave as he licks and spreads you open, presses in deep and coils you tight. It’s hard to believe your body can have such strong responses when you’re barely function in your waking life. Something primal drives you on and Ezra knows just how to unlock it. 

“Such a delicacy. To sup on milk and cunt,” he says, barely taking his lips from you. 

The swirls and undulations of his tongue and the sweet pressure inside works you into a frenzy. Your breath shortens and then stops altogether, your thighs tighten and you hold your eyes shut, listening to the whimpers and moans between your legs. It’s too much and not enough. 

When you come undone, it’s a rush of ecstasy that you want to live in forever. Rolling and gushing and sighing. You choke and arch, your entire body convulsing. Your spine clenches up like you’ve been struck by lighting and the electricity runs out through your fingertips and toes. 

“Such a glorious vision,” he muses as you come down, panting and shivering. 

Ezra’s eyes are fixated on you, pupils blown so wide they’re nearly black. He looks like he wants to devour you. 

You share his hunger. You want more already. You’ve just had a feast and yet you’re starving again. 

You see Ezra’s cock now for the first time. Thick and upright, it’s tip, flushed and red. He takes it in his fist, glazing his shaft in your release. There’s something animalistic about it that floods you with another wave of arousal. 

“More,” you manage to say. 

“Not too tired?” he teases with a wicked smile. 

You shake your head. How can you sleep when your body is on fire with lust?

“I’ll fill each needy hole,” he says. 

You whine. He lines himself at your entrance. 

“You’re a goddess. And I’m going to defile you.”

You're filled to the hilt. The noise that escapes him is animalistic and his eyes lose focus. You’re already fluttering around him, already so close to another climax. He fucks you, the stretch and rhythm making you dizzy. 

“This is the closest I’ll get to heaven, I fear,” he revels. “But what could be more divine than this sweet cunt?”

Each word that falls from his lips seems to stroke at your core. His hips drive into you, hands greedily paw at every soft part of your body. 

The only thing that quiets his debauched ramblings is suckling at your breast. Your senses are completely overwhelmed. Tears prick in your eyes as your insides tighten, another orgasm shattering through you. You bite down on his shoulder to keep yourself quiet. 

“Let me hear,” he demands. “He won’t wake.”

And so you do, crying out as you clench around his thickness, losing all control of your body. 

“That’s it, petal. That’s it,” he says. 

He goes on thrusting and pins you down, torturing that exquisite spot deep inside of you over and over again. You’re not sure where one climax ends and another begins but you’re possessed. 

“If only I could fill that womb, sire one after the other to keep you round,” he grunts. 

Ezra swears. He hisses out words in a language you don’t recognize. It sounds like an incantation. 

You hardly have time to make sense of it. He’s pulling out of you, grinding his wet length against your thigh and spilling hot ropes onto your mound. 

You lay beneath him, boneless and dazed. The exhaustion flushes over your weak body. You sense Ezra at your breast again as your eyes drift closed. 

The next thing you know, your baby is crying and it’s morning. 

It must be a dream. There’s no other way to explain it— a horned creature slipping in and out of your bedroom in the middle of the night, fucking you senseless when you have no energy left. But you wake up with come drying where he marked you. 

That night, he’s back again. 

And again after that. 

“Ezra, I’m exhausted," you breathe. "Please.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted, petal?”

Now your son sleeps soundly through the night while you are awake, debauched for hours without end. 

He’s insatiable and somehow you are, too. 

He fucks you until you’re raw. Your legs quiver and burn from being parted so wide. Your pussy feels battered and bruised. You beg him to fuck your ass just to give your cunt some rest. 

And although your body feels like it can’t take another second of pleasure, though it begs for a moment’s peace, every time he comes to you, you’re flooded with arousal. 

When you try to steal an afternoon nap, he’s there, cock already standing in his fist. 

Spittle dribbles from the corners of your lips as he fucks your mouth. It runs down your chest, your knees already bruised from the hours you’ve spent on them. You try to chase your own relief, grinding your hips against the floor. He pulls you by the ears to sink deeper down your throat. 

He grunts and moans and howls as he comes between your lips. 

He doesn’t always take. 

The next time he makes you come four times. 

“Again, again,” he chants into your ear. His words are hot breath as his fingers press inside of you overwhelming that ridge that sends you reeling. Your bodies are pressed together, sticky with perspiration and release and drool and milk. 

“I can’t,” you sob, your body sore and stretched to its limit. 

You’re so spent, so overstimulated, each orgasm takes more and more effort. But Ezra refuses to quit, punishing you until you reach a fearsome crescendo. 

“Oh, my petal, but I know you are more than capable.”

He’s right. You can feel the weak muscles in your core begin to twist. You hold your breath and focus on the brutal sensations Ezra gives you. 

“Besides, your ability is immaterial,” he goes on. “These were the terms of our deal. This cunt. Is. Mine.”

Despite the fact that you’re so exhausted you can barely remember your own name, hardly able to stand on your own two feel, the climax that hits you is just as monumental as the very first. 

“Have you endured enough tonight, petal?” he asks, sucking the gush of slick off of his fingers. 

“Please,” you whimper. “Please.”

You’re not sure if you’re begging him to stop or to keep going. 

“Tomorrow, petal,” he promises. “Now get some rest.”

He wakes you. Every night. 

...

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! My asks are always open and I don't bite (unless you're into that).

[someonesblog1555]

Astrology observations: 18+

Lilith in the 10th house can give someone a reputation for being a slut, and also a tease. People automatically assume the worst of you. People make absurd rumors about these people, and others actually believe them or believe them with ease. Another thing I’ve noticed is that these people are viewed as sex symbols. Even before they’ve done anything sexual they already have a reputation for it.

I have this theory that men with mars in weaker signs such as Taurus, Libra, and Cancer are more inclined to seek out more than one women to feed their ego. These men are also extremely attractive to the opposite sex. One cancer mars I knew had more female friends than male ones. Taurus and Libra mars men always seem to have lots of women who have crushes on them.

Men with weak mars tend to be great in the sac. A cancer mars boyfriend of mine literally read smut to become better in bed. Crazy.

Sidereal Libra risings are gorgeous in a very noticeable way. All my friends and family who are objectively extremely beautiful have this placement. Which makes sense because Libra is the sign of symmetry and Venus (beauty) Honestly model status looks.

People with lots of Saturn aspects tend to have difficult lives.

The most aspected planet in your chart can give you a lot of insight into the energy you give off.

The T-Square really does indicate popularity and fame, but depending on the person this can be either good or bad. I knew a girl who had the T square in her and chart and there is no denying that she was well known. Everyone in our town knew her name, but in a bad way lol. But you know what they say, bad publicity is still publicity nonetheless.

Jupiter and sun in the first house can make someone extremely loud and obnoxious. 😂 Also no filter.

Sidereal Libra suns may give off the vibe that they don’t need anyone, but in reality their ego is dependent on what others think of them.

Rohini moons are captivating. Everyone always talks about their eyes piercing your soul. The type of person that could make anyone think they are soulmates.

Also sidereal Pisces mars women are usually extremely attractive.

A loaded 7th house indicates an abundance of romantic partners.

Rahu in the 12th might lead someone to become addicted to drugs and sex.

You know how people say “you can’t explain attraction?” Alright… but explain Mars conjunct moon synastry. And Venus conjunct mars. Like nearly every couple has this. It’s bizarre. Can’t be coincidence 😭

Saturn in the 2nd house are penny pinchers.

Rahu in the 7th house consumes relationships and can never be satisfied by them. They run through multiple people looking for the one, but they are ultimately left lost when these people can’t fulfill their needs. Ultimately they see themselves through their relationships (Ketu in the 1st{ tail with no head}) They can’t see themselves, so they use others to help gain clarity. I’ve seen these people completely mold themselves into the person they are dating. (Which is normal, but these changes are drastic!!!! Like changing from a nerd into a skater boy, into a goth, into a fighter, into a horse rider in a short amount of time.) Honestly I can appreciate how chameleon they are, they can always change, but they are never sure of who they are.

I’ve read about Moon conjunct Venus men being more inclined to cheat. I observed this once in a boyfriend of mine. (He also had retrograde Venus) which might of affected it. His moon and Venus were in the 8th house (sometimes associated with death) and moon and Venus (commonly associated with the mother) his mother died a few months into our relationship, and he blamed me for her death(long and complicated story) He still wants to see me all the time, and the other day I was talking with his girlfriend (that he claimed that he was broken up with ) and she literally said “I really don’t think he would fuck the bitch that killed his mom.” So I can’t even make this shit up. 😭

[ovaryacted]

Damnation Leon does something to me. Like? I want this man to be below me while I’ll ride him to multiple orgasms. Something about this guy crying from overstimulation then babbling about how he loves me makes my brain go BRRRR

Even though Damnation Leon is a version of him that I personally don’t vibe with (he scares the shit out of me sometimes okay!), I get it. It’s probably because he’s so pathetic and depressed and just completely messed up that it makes you go “yup, I want that one!”.

He just gives oily puppy dog vibes I mean, the scruff, he probably smells like vodka and gunpowder, and his bootcut wranglers really accentuates his thick thighs. I get it, sometimes I just wanna pull him to the side and force him into bed cause that’s what I think Ada would do in a heartbeat. Leon and Ada also technically slept together after Damnation (I forgot exactly when but I’m pretty sure they did), so giving this man any type of human affection will probably make him combust.

I see the appeal anon! Riding him until he cries, or pumping him so vigorously you’re practically milking him for what he’s worth. Leon will just let you take it, every orgasm you give him more intense than the last, and the release is so much better than anything he’s ever felt in his life. He feels like he’s high, the strength of your touch does more for him than the alcohol he carries in his flask.

He’s just so tired of not being wanted, not being cared for, and here you are giving him everything on a silver platter. You’re a god amongst men, bestowing him a bite of forbidden fruit he never thought he’d be able to taste. He whispers praises and *thank you’s* under his breath, saying your name in unintelligible mumbles mixed in with everything else that comes to his mind. He’s so far gone that his brain doesn’t have a filter, he can’t bring himself to care when you’re making him feel so alive.

“I love you…fuck…I love you”, Leon’s eyes remained unfocused and lined with tears, hands loosely holding on to your hips as you bounced on top of him like you’re depending on it. He’s not entirely sure if he means it, but he doesn’t give a shit.

You didn’t care how long it took, you were going to ruin Leon and mend the pieces of his broken persona. He thinks this is how he’d want to go, to die underneath your touch and overwhelmed by so much ecstasy his heart gives out. It’s the closest thing to heaven he’ll experience, so he’ll take as much as he can before he needs to wake up into the hellscape that was his reality again.

[kentopedia]

RYLIE OMG you’re nanamis classmate and you guys are just like friends or whatever and then he leaves right??? but you stay because jujutsu is all you have. but you guys stay “friends” but hardly ever see each other. then he becomes a sorcerer again yippee!! and you guys are seeing each other a lot more.

he has feelings for you but things you have a thing for gojo so he doesn’t go for it. tension ensues.

anyways!!! i hope your thursday was great rylie!! xxxx

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ AND I AM DONE, DEAR — nanami kento

contents. angst (we’re going back to my roots!), maybe unrequited love, fem!reader, 800ish words

notes. this is so painful bc he wouldn't go for it either :( and then satoru pursues you because you've gotten close over the past couple of years, and kento's been gone </3 there are years worth of memories and jokes between the two of you, and kento spent those years miserable & alone. sometimes, he wonders what would've happened if he'd just had the strength to remain a sorcerer, instead of running from everything he hated

"kento," you snap him out of his stream of endless memories, the ones that always seem to gnaw at him when he was around you.

he glances up, and a culmination of flashbacks spin before his eyes.

he sees you at fourteen, a first year student who was still so scared of her technique.

he sees you at sixteen, smiling from ear to ear at another one of gojo and geto's ridiculous antics.

he sees you at seventeen, sobbing over the corpse that had once belonged to the kindest student in your year.

he sees you at eighteen, your empty, hollow expression when he told you he was leaving, and he wasn't coming back.

"yes?" kento asks, forcing the memories away, because you're there in front of him, more beautiful than he remembers... and though you aren't a stranger in his life anymore, his mind still doesn't do justice to the depth of your angelic features.

"is everything okay?" you ask, blinking up at him with concern. your voice turns into something gentle when you're around him, almost like he's something fragile. the kindness in your heart is endless, extending, even, to the man that once broke it.

kento clears his throat, wondering how much emotion he'd let filter onto his expression. he'd gotten worse at hiding it ever since you'd stumbled back into his life, the woman he hadn't realized he'd loved until it was too late.

"yes," he repeats, flat, calm. though he can't muster a smile, he raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "why do you ask?"

for a moment, you chew your lip, thoughtful. kento wants to kiss you. he wonders what you'd say if you knew.

"you've just been..." you shake your head, rubbing your arm awkwardly. "ever since..." the sentences are broken, uncomfortable, and though you'd once been best friends, there is a sense of professionalism between you now. a wall that he doesn't think he can break down anymore.

kento parts his lips, considers interrupting, but someone beats him to it. gojo satoru, the constant pain in kento's ass, saunters into the room with a sparkly white grin, gleefulness bounding off of him in a way that's obnoxious.

"there you are! megumi told me i might find you here," satoru says, and he's to you in just three long strides, attaching to you like a magnet. "ready, baby?"

gojo kisses the top of your head, throws an arm over your shoulder and smiles at kento, like he knows what's running through his mind.

you're still studying kento, and he pretends not to notice you scrutinizing him, the way your lips are flushed from chewing on them. "yeah," you say to satoru, squeezing his hand, the sparkly bracelet with gojo's initials dangling from two charms shimmering.

a subtle reminder that kento may have loved you longer, but you'll never really be his.

you start to walk out the door, and kento watches with what he hopes appears as impassivity, his lips drawn into a thin line. though, just as satoru is beginning to pull you across the threshold, you meet kento's dark brown eyes, the ones that turn so tender the moment they land on you.

"kento?" you ask once more

his name sounds so sweet on your lips, but he wishes he didn't want to know what it sounded like on the edge of a moan.

"ijichi is waiting." kento doesn't let you ask whatever you were thinking of asking, because being pinned by your beautiful, caring eyes is almost too much for him to bear.

you blink, surprised by his harshness as you curl into satoru, almost imperceptibly. "right. have a good evening, then. see you tomorrow."

kento nods, pushing his glasses back onto his face. his heart cracks a bit at the emotion tinged in your words, and though his severity has never hurt you before, he's beginning to wonder if it's hurting you now.

"bye, nanamin!" satoru waves cheerfully, and the two of you are gone, leaving nanami in the room alone, the silence almost deafeaning.

he's used to it by now: the solitude of his life. he's used to being strong when he's needed, and even when he's not. everyone sees him that way: the man who's steadfast, unwavering, a little too serious for his own good.

if only they knew he was a weak man when it came to you.

[voltronisanobsession]

Miguel codes Lyla a Friend

I had this idea since I was thinking maybe sometimes Lyla gets lonely being the only hologram in the spider society apart from Spider Byte. So I decided to do this and show what it could be like if Miguel finally coded and programmed Lyla a new friend!

This also might be the very few writings I’ll do for this fandom since I wanna focus on the ones Im active in now :D

For this to even be CONSIDERED a possibility, Lyla would have to have been annoying Miguel for awhile, complaining about how oh so lonely she’s gotten being the only hologram

“Come on.”

“There’s Spider Byte.”

“She doesn’t count, plus she’s still a spider. Come oonn.”

“Is my company not enough, Lyla?”

“Look me in the eyes and you tell me. Come ooonnnnn.”

In the end Miguel will succumb to Lyla’s persistent complains much to the her delight

I can already see her excitedly yapping away while Miguel begins programming her new ‘friend’

I totally see Miguel just copying and pasting Lyla’s original coding while making some changes like the personality and appearance just because he didn’t want to spend too much time on this

It takes a couple of runs before both he and Lyla are satisfied with the final outcome, you😍

Miguel made it so that you were the more compassionate and kind one between the two of you while Lyla is the honest and blunt one

You chose your own name, which surprised both him and Lyla since you were already adapting and growing as an intelligent form of tech

“Well then Y/N, welcome to the team.”

Cue Lyla grabbing your arm and disappearing to who knows where while Miguel sighs

Omg she would totally give you star glasses so you could match with her heart glasses!!!

You guys are rarely seen without the other ever since your arrival

Lyla would show you all the ropes to being Miguel’s assistant and would be so proud when you help file your first report on an anomaly :,)

“They grow up so quick.”

“But I can’t ‘grow up’ Lyla.”

“You’ll understand those sayings soon.”

You guys do everything together, like karaoke nights with Miguel, make friendship bracelets for each other and take silly pics with that one bunny filter Lyla’s obsessed with

It’s like you’re Thing 1 and Thing 2 according to Peter :]

Because this is technically your shot in ‘living’, you definitely look at everything with stars in your eyes

Everything is still so new to you and so exciting that you often get carried away with rambling about how fascinating life is

Which causes Miguel to raise an eyebrow at times because it’s almost like your becoming more self aware of yourself, gaining more… human emotions despite you being only a hologram

And he isn’t wrong

Once learning of Miles Morales’ story and how he’s essentially going to destroy the multiverse according to Miguel, you can’t help but feel for the boy

Your traits grow from being compassionate to feeling real emotions which confused you at first when you began feeling so different at times

(You asked Lyla about the weird feelings you’ve been getting but she only looks at you weirdly so you don’t bring it up again)

You make it a habit to mention every now and then that Miles had no control over what happened and how you feel sorry for him

How you even theorize that with him, the cycle of Spiderman could possibly be broken!

Lyla would 100 percent lecture you on how that would be terrible and all that fun sunshine stuff which you definitely don’t listen to

Hobie would be around when you’re on one of your tangents on how Miles could be the change the multiverse could benefit from, capturing his attention

“Rebellious one, aren’t you?”

“Oh Hobie hello! What do you mean by that?”

“I sure as ‘ell know bossman wouldn’t program your own ideas to go against his, now would he?”

After that small talk, your hologram self would realize ‘hey! Im thinking for myself, I have my own ideals and beliefs!’

Cue you acting out against Miguel cuz you’re in your rebellious phase

Bro would totally tell Lyla to control you

You’ve been giving him more headaches than Lyla has and that’s saying something

I think Lyla would try to tap into your programming to see if there was something wrong only to find out you put a PASSWORD on that file LMAO💀💀💀

Her reaction: 😦

Besides that concerning factor that is making itself way more known after Miles arrives, most of the spiders do enjoy your company

They love how you just float around them as you beg to hear more of their stories and fights they’ve experienced

You have an almost childish light because of how interested and amazed you are at them

You love being around Peter B. though because of Mayday

She loves just swishing her hand at your frame, giggling as you reappear in a different spot, your soft glowing light capturing her attention every time

Overall I think being Miguel’s second assistant isn’t the most terrible thing in the world

Lyla’s sarcasm has rubbed off on you so you both like to make Miguel’s job a little more difficult than it needs to be

But he definitely has a soft spot for both you, especially since you often sympathize with him whenever he watches those videos of his past life

You’re just a silly member of the society trying to learn more about life and the special moments it holds

You want to be apart of the real world instead of being confined to the digital world, which Lyla and Miguel don’t realize is a problem until you finally go against them

DUN DUN DDUUUNNNN

[somehow-a-human]

Whose POV is it Anyway?

A Conclusion.

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

Okay. Well. That was more intense i'll say than I expected. There is a lot happening with these filters over these 6 episodes and it was a bit more detailed and harder to follow than I had originally expected but we got through it and I have more than a few final thoughts to wrap this up.

For reference & context, I recommend reading these posts:

Whose POV is it Anyway? - Introduction

POV "Your 'Something's Wrong' Voice"

POV a Trip to Hell and a 25 Lazarii Miracle

POV a Companion to Owls

POV The Dirty Donkey & I think I Found a *Clue*!

POV Bodysnatchers & Cosplaying a bookseller

POV 1941

POV The Ball

POV The End?

Lens Filters

Shall we conclude?

So, if you remember back to my originally introductory post for this series, the thing that kicked off this entire analysis was a bit of commentary made by the cinematographer Gavin Finney in this article.

Finney Describes the Bronze Glimmerglass filter as being used for "bookshop scenes", the Black Pro Mist filter for "Hell", and Black Diffusion FX for "Crowley's Present Day Storyline". I still hate that wording.

Something in that zinged my brain just right and I launched into research about the cameras and these specific lens filters. Give that post a read seriously or none of this will make much sense. ANYWAY.

What I had decided for writing these posts, since we had two main characters, was that I was going to apply the Bronze Glimmerglass (BGG) filter to Aziraphale's POV, since it was mentioned it's applied to bookshop scenes and he's always there anyway, and the Black Diffusion FX (BDFX) filter to Crowley's POV, since well, that's what they said it is kinda.

Do I think it is as simple as, it is either Crowley or Aziraphale's POV? no.

It was a decent jumping off point though, and it was working really well for the first few episodes but once we got past the halfway mark of the season, the lines started to blur, and I think that is perfectly in line with our story.

The BGG filter is usually applied to scenes in the bookshop, featuring Aziraphale, or the record shop, sometimes the coffee shop when Maggie is being lovesick over Nina. We even see it in heaven during the Job minisode and its on THICK during the Whickber Street Ball. The BGG filter is romantic, idealistic, it's just that a filter. Looking at the world through rose colored glasses! Looking at the world likely how Aziraphale would like to see it.

The BDFX filter is cooler toned, more realistic, it's used in scenes with Shax and Crowley, and often Nina when Maggie isn't around because these characters are pragmatic. They aren't dreamers, they see things for the reality that they are.

Whenever Crowley shows up and says something snarky to Aziraphale to break him out of his fanciful delusions and insults him (affectionate), like the scene at the coffee shop, or the scene at the pub, the filter switches from BGG to BDFX. We're being broken out of the dream, brought back into the colder reality.

I think it makes sense to apply the filters to characters for a lot of the season because their actions fit in their characterization. Aziraphale is daydreamy BGG, Crowley is a realist BDFX. It just works. But then we start to add in the demons attacking The Ball and the offer from the Metatron and everything falls apart. The BGG filter is gone. The dream is gone. We're in cold reality, even in the bookshop where we are usually consistently in a dreamy state.

Even Crowley gets the dreamy effects of the BGG filter and of what-could-be peace & domesticity in the bookshop when Aziraphale is in Edinburgh and he's forced to just hang around and chill with Jim. I'm sure that type of life is all he wants with Aziraphale. Quiet, wearing his cardigan and carrying books around for his love.

I'm glad I wrote my opinions before that C & A were possibly imagining each other in the Edinburgh POV chapter so that theory can exist on the internet somewhere but I think this is more likely the case. The filters are more likely indicating to us what the wants dreams and desires of the characters are compared to the realities they see. What do they choose to see better? Worse?

What does this mean for the Final 15? It's simply reality, and neither of them want it.

I'd like to remind you dear reader that this is one opinion, of which there are many on this website, and plenty of them are worth reading and considering. I don't expect that I'm right. I expect that I'm wrong. In fact, I'll probably write another series of posts next month detailing precisely how everything here is completely backwards to how it ACTUALLY is! Well maybe not. That is to say, if you don't agree with this, that's cool, I might not either tomorrow, but wasn't it entertaining to read?

[zangtang]

Everything can change at any point!

Create images here: https://www.bing.com/images/create?FORM=GENILP before i say anything else though: not following someone else's prompts means you'll likely find some wild and unexpected things yourself. If you follow my prompts like they're laws, you will only ever get results like mine. There are people doing much cooler, weirder things. Don't get restricted by this.

the site was VERY BROKEN for the last 6 days, you haven't been banned. You get 15 boosts a day which usually override any current downtime, but the popup thinks you get 25 a week, which is an indicator of how busted and poorly planned they were for this flood of users. It's not too hard to create illegal results, and there's millions of users, so it's very unlikely a human is ever looking at your results. Unless you're doing really spectacularly terrible things, of course. If you get the warning as soon as you enter your prompt, change the most controversial aspects of your prompt immediately, as repeats of this will get you suspended for increasingly long times. It is possible to make alt accounts with throwaway emails though. It's unconfirmed but it appears that US residents get priority access during US times, and UK residents can only reliably make things from 7am to 1pm for example. Weekend access is a crapshoot. I don't personally pay for ChatGPT so I can't say anything about the alleged priority access you get there, but even that can be slow and restricted during the worst times (I assume this will the their priority to fix though). There are many conflicting reports about whether it's more censored or not. Reports is a very fancy way of saying reddit comments.

Everything I superstitiously guess about prompts:

you can be very descriptive and write in natural english, or you can be very brief. both methods work, I suspect both versions do different things. repetition and restating the same thing in other ways also seems to emphasise (possibly.) Prompts can be quite chaotic and contradictory - you can describe a lot of things happening and it may surprise you, so have fun with weirdness! some words are "heavy" against the automated filters, and can be safe in one prompt and unsafe in another. think of it like buckaroo, the AI is trying to find meaning in your prompt and it will sometimes combine things and get mad about it. be aware of politics and words that may be used in erotic senses, and switch those up.

this is the format I use the most because i am super lazy and unimaginative. items in [ ] are optional and can be anything, and I don't know how the word order matters - in old Midjourney it mattered quite a bit according to guides, but now they're all pushing to parse natural english I'm not so sure:

[number of] [body type] [age] [nationality] [male noun or job] wearing [clothes], with a [size, shape] belly, [hair description], [pose], [location, time of day, weather, lighting, era], [facial expression or attitude], [actions]

The number of guys can be vague like "several." Also placing a number here will generally result in all men being fat. To add a second, very different person (even women! imagine the power), simply describe that in plain english later in the prompt. Try adding "with friends" or something and seeing what happens.

Mentioning body type is separate from mentioning that he has a large stomach because "fat man" alone doesn't make him very fat. also, the body type prompt will dictate his physical build underneath the belly - this allows you to make mpreg very easily, for example. Mentioning his belly separately also seems to be a key part in making clothes not cover it up. However, DallE has clearly gotten much better at this for some clothes, but not all of them. Formalwear is improving, though tactical vests no longer do the cute thing they used to do, and football shirts still ride up reliably. Nationality can be weird, and you can use it to exploit stereotypes, or it can be an eye-opening view of stereotypes from countries you barely know about - want to know what differentiates an Angolan man from a Kenyan man? Probably don't trust AI results! I suspect some countries are controversial due to current politics, and I suspect some are controversial due to fetishy stereotyping. However, if for example "English man" got censored, consider going for capital cities or famous regions, eg "London man." Maybe look up sports teams from that country. I'm a big fan of the "Italian-American" prompt but lately it's gotten quite a few results blocked, so I'd switch to "New Jersey," maybe even "New Jersey Italian."

"Handsome" may slim your results down, or even break the prompt entirely. Consider making your men footballers or rugby players, mention trendy haircuts, or using out of date synonyms to get round it. AI isn't all that likely to give you especially ugly results anyway, particularly if you specify ages under 40. It doesn't get the hair precisely right, but even a generic prompt like "short thick hair" can help. Giving your character a job may dictate what he'll wear, but you might want to specify what clothes you want anyway. Don't mention either if you hope he'll turn out naked. Certain jobs are tricky to use, as AI strains to be as unpolitical as possible - it doesn't want you doing politicians and it sometimes seems to refuse anything that might make the police or military look bad. However, it will accept "wearing a [colour] uniform/pilot shirt" very happily, because it's duuuuumb.

Mention trousers, footwear or even just feet if your results keep zooming in too much. (It'll also zoom in if you mention too much about his face, I think.) Side view appears to make certain prompts fatter, but will often mean he's looking away - you can add "Looking at camera" if you want that. Metallic and plastic clothes can have very fun and weird results, especially if you change the location to a night setting in the rain. Gladiator costumes will reduce his clothes to a few leather straps.

"Flex pose" and "strong pose" will get butch bodybuilder poses (it will also buff up the muscle mass) and "battling strong winds" gets very superhero poses. At least when I was trying these out, I found I couldn't actually get proper bodybuilder poses or mention of superheroes past the censor, but it's been a few weeks so who knows what it's up to now. Give them all a go!

Casual poses and actions can liven things up a little if you just want portraits but don't want it to repeatedly be the same thing facing you directly. Getting out of a car, climbing stairs, leaning against things, adjusting his clothes or putting on a coat, all these kinds of things work. Smoking or drinking does quite a lot. "Tired" or "Exhausted" changes his attitude a lot too, your leans get leaned into more.

Contact words can be a little difficult, so consider ways to exploit using soft contact, or be very wordy and detailed about it so it's not misinterpreting you. "Patting him on the back" is a fairly safe phrase, but DallE isn't intelligent, so it will allow the contact but it will struggle to be precise, especially when the bodies are fat or not positioned in a way they can reach the back - the result of this is that there will be a lot of belly pats. Prodding in the stomach, pointing at the stomach, these both work, but I think DallE is vague about stomach=torso and you may want "pointing at his belt" to give a lower focus. Admiring can direct attention and vibes, whispering will draw their heads closer and make them interact somewhat. Embracing and hugging work but is very heavy for the censor, "hugging on his shoulder/belly" seems safer for some reason. Shaking, grabbing, "examining/concerned about his belly" can work. Bizarrely, squeezing past another man in a narrow corridor/doorway/cupboard works if you want a LOT of contact. And if you want unpredictable contact, fighting can work.

For more dynamic safe contact, try sporting actions. Baseball slides, football tackles, that kind of thing. It's hard to get them to lie flat and the AI seems to resist allowing heads to touch the ground, but "lying in a hammock" works pretty well, and sometimes specifying what the head is touching works. pretty much every minor prompt variation and scenario I've ever used:

"falling onto a broken chair/breaking an object with his weight" "washing windows" "with waiters helping him up" "with friends bringing him food" "falling over another man" "outside of a skyscraper washing windows, harness for safety, hoisted" "hyper-obese man wearing denim dungarees with an enormous inflated belly, drinking from a hose" ("blowing into a hose" gets better expressions for that IMO) "stuck in a broken narrow red british phonebooth with another man, bursting out with his enormous belly, black trousers" "bent over eating at a pie eating contest wearing a dirty white tank top with an enormous round belly and his face hidden buried in messy pie" "sitting on a throne next to a very fat 35 year old spanish monarch" "lying on his back the floor, enjoying a banquet, side view, tired expression" "very fat 35 year old handsome british man wearing tracksuit and gold chain with a hugely distended beerbelly, man with a massive round stomach, washing his car in a carpark at night side view" "at water park, stuck in a water slide" "before and after weightloss picture, in the left he is X and in the right he is Y" "with a large round belly spilled over eating at a banquet with an enormous round belly, bronzed, with waiters helping him up/being prodded with a fork" "washing dishes and leaning over his belly on a freestanding enamel pedestal basin" "climbing and leaning against a stepladder to change a lightbulb on the ceiling [with friend holding the stepladder steady]" "side view, photo of two 40 year old beefy handsome fat italian-american rugby player with a hugely distended round belly, resting hand on his chest, wearing a tracksuit with a gigantic round sagging stomach, gold chain, raining, whispering in a car park at night, leaning/hugging on shoulder, tired, stern expression looking at camera, smoking a cigarette" "side view photo of two strong 40 year old handsome samoan rugby player with a hugely distended round beerbelly, chest hair, wearing a white formal shirt and black suit, hugging on his belly, proud expectant father, boyfriends outside a busy pub at night, stern, looking at camera, raining" "two fat los angeles rams handsome footballers wearing white pilot shirt and plain tie and black trousers pushing through a narrow saloon door with their enormously distended beerbellies, stern" "photo of very fat 30 year old hunk rugby player with enormously distended belly, carrying his belly in a wheelbarrow" "very fat 35 year old man wearing white pilot shirt with an enormous round belly, tough man with a very large beerbelly, too fat for small broken airplane seat sitting on another man, fat belly spilling over armrest and pressing against over man, black trousers, slightly concerned, suave" "being carried on the back of a flatbed truck" can turn them into horrific lardvalanches but you don't get much control over it

original characters do not steal prompts: "30 year old man who looks like he's the main character from the game Uncharted with an enormous distended round beerbelly, with one hand on a bar in a pub, nathan" This is sometimes surprisingly effective, but most often it'll simply draw vibes from the IP mentioned, so you can use it to get specific settings at least

Try spelling the names wrong or reversing the name order - sometimes it'll even accept names sprinkled throughout the prompt. Repeating the name may increase its effect (it might also not!) Also it's speculated that placing the celebrity fraud in a place or situation they would normally be found in helps. That said, I could only get a Robert Downey Jr if I made him dress as a gladiator. So maybe weirdness and ingenuity are your strengths. see also https://www.tumblr.com/baron-bear/731903035856584704/what-do-you-use-for-your-ai-stuff

[bambifornia]

huuUOOoLRgGghh fiinnne I can't stay away from you all

i bring more autobot!swindle. plus my attempt at writing his backstory

disclaimer : most of the stuff below isn't canon i just wrote this for fun. if u guys wanna make ur own swindle backstories i invite yall to do so :D we will make our own swindle content

swindle came online during cybertron's early years of the age of expansion. the autobots (with their goal to expand cybertron's empire) engineered a set of bots who would serve cybertron as its intergalactic merchants, programmed to be ambitious bots who sought profit. they also came with bigger processors (for storing transactions and whatnot) and versatile frames (so they could withstand organic climates)

shortly after coming online, swindle was assigned a teacher (another merchant) who'd pass down the knowledge of the trade. swindle did his best to keep up with his lessons

as a student, swindle was determined and clever. as a bot, though...eughh...

- he had less of a filter, and didn't know how to keep a poker face

- his little new England accent used to be a lot thicker (think earthspark swindle)

- very friendly, had a lot of amicas back in the day (he was definitely the "I know a bot" guy). it was a struggle for him to keep quiet

- loved hands on activities, hated sitting still

- kept a journal detailing his intergalactic trips. tried to doodle any organics he found interesting

- LOVED shiny stuff. he was like a crow lmao

- his sharp glossa would sometimes get his aft beat

- despite being a chatterbox, he wasn't as suave back then. he'd often get himself in awkward situations, which he'd try to talk himself out of the embarrassment but he'd end up digging a deeper hole for himself

- petty king. also kinda nosy and had a thing for gossip

- loved pranking, and teased the bots he liked

once he was ready, swindle was given a ship and assigned a trading post (as a starting point). from that point, swindle was a rootin tootin merchant and nothing bad ever happened to him again :D...

...

until the quintessa skirmishes

the age of expansion ended with border disputes between cybertron and quintessa. multiple skirmishes sproutted along the border, and while swindle didn't fight in them, he was certainly caught in the crossfire. swindle ended up with a broken ship, a looted inventory, and a bungled up frame. he had to return to cybertron for repairs

back on cybertron, swindle finds a planet wildly different from the one he knows. tensions between autobots and decepticons are rising, and the banks aren't holding up that great. swindle finds himself in a tight spot (financially speaking) since he still has to deal with his losses from quintessa. unable to go back to his actual merchant job, swindle resorts to taking odd jobs to keep himself afloat (yes, even stealing)

when the war breaks out, swindle gets drafted into the front lines (a decision that still baffles him to this day). since he's not much of a fighter, the autobots have swindle work as a spy, ordering him to smuggle weapons out of decepticon servos...

in future hindsight, that was a poor decision

---

wrapping it up here because i don't want this post to get too long LMAO but I still have more ideas for him if yall are interested. just know that this is not the end of swindle lore

ALSO I finally came up with autobot!swindle designations :D I've narrowed it down to 3 and I need help deciding. it's either between

quickdime - cuz. you know. he's always looking to make a quick buck

treasury - his subspace acts like a treasury if you kinda think about it

fortune - idk it sounds cute. besides fortune tends to "favor the bold and clever"

if u made it this far then congrats. thank u for listening to me yap. have a bonus doodle

[bhaaldursgays]

I have this scene in a Gortash Lives And Gets Dragged Through Redemption AU I keep thinking about. It has my durge Clira and Gortash laying in bed, before they reconcile fully so they're like a foot and a half apart. Clira is trying to sleep, finding herself comforted by Gortash's presence as she's asking him to tell her stories she doesn't remember. I thought I might share it, in case anyone likes it

The sun hasn't set yet, casting the room in a gently, golden light as Gortash tells her of their history, of little things she can't remember - "Your hair used to be longer. You hated people touching it. For a long time only Sceleritas was allowed to brush and trim it for you." - as well as filling in the memories that were hazy.

He tells her how they worked together, what they explored together. Of lovers she had, kills she made - "Remember Nathaniel? You liked him. You thought he was beautiful and sweet. You even mourned him." - and she has found that she easily falls asleep to the gentle sound of his voice.

Just before she falls asleep she asks him for one last memory.

"Tell me something about you that I've forgotten," she says, mumbling just a little. Her eyes are already closed, her breathing slow. He knows she'll fall asleep soon, and he doesn't think he's welcome in her bed after that. Not yet.

His dark eyes look at her, but his mind is searching for something to say. It is difficult, not because he can't think of anything lost to her but because she's asking him to open up once more. It took a long time for him to do so the first time alone.

"… when I was a child I would make small sculptures and gadgets out of scraps I found," he begins. "I would sell them for coin that I hid from my parents. I would use it for food, toys and sometimes even to go to the circus. I had found a bird's nest that I used to look in to see if the clever animal had found something shiny."

Clira smiles gently, but she doesn't say anything. He's not sure she hears him, if she's half-asleep or not, but he has no reason to stop yet.

"I told you about that once. You didn't seem to understand. I wasn't sure what it was that eluded you. My motives, my craft or perhaps even a lack of understanding about avian habits," he chuckles a bit. Her face had been so expressionless back then. It was difficult to understand her at the best of times. Very different from now, with her smiles coming frequent and easy.

A welcome change, he will admit.

"Of course, after I told you this I found a birds nest at my windowsill. I found it odd, especially since it was not even nesting season. But after that I found little things in there. Pieces of metal. Bits of rope. A bloodied arrowhead once. By the time I received a broken dagger, far too heavy for a bird to carry, I knew it was no feathery friend I had to thank for these gifts."

Soft, steady breathing fills the room as he stops for a moment. With a sigh he carefully rolls off to the side and stands up, straightening his clothes as he stays for a moment. Just a moment, he's allowed that isn't he?

"I made a little bird out of the scraps, small enough to pin to a piece of clothing, and laid it back into the nest." An exhale, a whisper of a laugh. "You wouldn't stop blushing when you noticed me staring at it as it sat on your coat next time we saw each other. I didn't need words to tease you."

He walks over to her side of the bed to pull the curtains across the window, reducing the little light that was left filtering into the room to darkness.

Then he hesitates, raises two fingers to his mouth. He lifts a quick kiss from his lips, and places it gently to her cheek.

"Sleep well, little magpie," he says before leaving the room

[strawbby-shortcake]

"Welcome, what would you like?" ✰ X GN READER! ✰

[♡ Marla, Tyler, and Jack order at a cafe you work at. ♡]

✧.* Marla ✧.*

You never expected to receive any customers since it was an awfully slow day. The cafe was dimly lit with a few chairs and a table in one corner, and a broken record player in the other. You stood around fiddling with one of the bleached coffee filters until the door chimed and a sliver of sunlight creeped into the building for a split second.

A skinny, disheveled woman walked up to the counter and glanced at the menu, then you, then the menu again, and then back to you.

"Hello, what would you like?" you asked, giving her a small smile.

She took a long drag of her cigarette while looking around the cafe. You noticed that she had messy, black hair, slept-in makeup, and a silk night gown of sorts on.

"Something dark, like my soul," she said with a scratchy voice. Probably from the smoking, you guessed.

You simply nodded at the woman and grabbed a cup and a marker.

"Your name?"

"Why the hell do you need my name? It's emptier in here than it is on Paper Street at midnight," she croaked.

You stared at her, your eyebags mirroring hers, and didn't respond.

"Marla. Marla Singer."

You wrote her name on the cup in thick, black letters. Getting her order correct wouldn't be a hard task at all. You brewed a fresh cup of the strongest coffee you could find and gave it to her.

She glanced at your handwriting on the cup. "I'm not paying for this, but here," she said as she laid a torn piece of paper and two quarters on the counter. "...thanks," you responded, grabbing the items and pocketing them.

Marla hurried out of the cafe like an alley cat, not glancing back at you even once.

✰ ✰ ✰ Tyler ✰ ✰ ✰

The record player in the cafe was attempting to play a Pixies vinyl, but it was so scratched up that it sounded more like nails on a chalkboard that it did music. A few customers came and went, the usual cappuccino or grande latte.

The bell that was tied loosely onto the door handle chimed and fell with a sad clank as a tall, nicely-tanned man walked in. He didn't even bother picking up the bell. The man strolled and leaned over with one elbow resting on the countertop and the other on his waist.

Upon closer inspection, he had multiple cuts and bruises on his face and mid-section (which was clearly visible since he was wearing a crop top). Was he even wearing underwear? You didn't ask questions, because frankly, you don't get paid enough to.

He slid his red glasses to the tip of his nose and stared into your eyes. He had a faint black eye. Maybe from fighting, or falling down the stairs.

"Hello, what would you like?"

The man gave you a wide grin, but you noticed there was dried blood on his lips.

"Just your heart, gorgeous," he said with a wink.

You looked at him and furrowed your eyebrows. Who even is this guy?

"Yeah, not happening," you said.

He clicked his tongue and placed both hands on the counter, looming over you.

"You sure I can't convince you?" he whispered lowly.

He leaned in and parted his lips, causing you to place a muffin into his mouth. He jolted in surprise and looked bewildered.

The man scoffed and made his way out of the cafe. He took the muffin with him though. He threw a card onto the floor and kicked the door open with his foot.

After he was no longer in sight, you went over and picked the card off the floor. It was a business card that said: "Paper Street Soap Co. All Natural. Handmade. (288) 555-0153. Tyler Durden. 537 Paper Street • Bradford • 19808."

"Tyler Durden." Interesting.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Jack (The Narrator) ੈ✩‧₊˚

A man dressed in a suit and black shades has been sitting in the cafe for the whole afternoon. Not once has he gotten up to order anything. He just sits there reading his newspaper, sometimes dozing off for a few minutes, or mumbling about some club.

You decide to walk up to him and make small talk, or at least offer him a coffee. There was no one else here, so you didn't see the harm in letting him stay a little longer.

"Hello," you said as you stood in front of the table he was sitting at.

The man looked up at you, acknowledged your presence with a "hmm," and went back to reading his paper.

"Do you want any coffee or anything? What would you like?" you tried again.

The man placed his newspaper on the table firmly and stared at you menacingly. He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept for days, some light stubble, and a mole on the bottom of his right cheek.

You stepped back from the table and shrugged.

"Oh well, I tried," you sighed.

The man got up and left his newspaper behind. He left the cafe with a low "see you."

You grabbed the newspaper and noticed a "HELLO my name is: JACK" label that was stuck onto one of the pages. You kept the newspaper in case he ever came back again.

[END]

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hello! Merry Chirtmas ! İ just love your blog and can't stop thinking about it ! So, how would tadc react to a female kid reader ? That little girl is cheerful elegant little lady and wear nice Pink dress with bows! She comforted Gangle by saying "don't be sad ! İ love you !" And put some sticker on her mask ! Oh and saying i love you to them before leaving. When Jax is doing something bad she says "Don't be mean! you silly rabbit!"

Caine, Gangle, Zooble, Pomni w/ sweet!kid!reader (platonic)

doing these characters since the wheel chose it (ominously) not sure how much i'll write today but i got a little more in the inbox compared to these past few days so i plan on working that down

CAINE:

basically treats you like his own kid but hes never been a dad before so hes still learning; torn between him being over protective of you or thinking you're indestructible (which... technically you are as long as youre in the digital world). i think he finds your sweetness adorable, though if theres someone in the circus being mean to you (surprisingly i dont think jax would be too mean. a little bit of a butt? yeah but its not much different than an older brother picking on their younger sibling) i think he would pipe up and not shut up until you get an apology. starts watching IHAs more now that you're here, both to see how youre doing but also to make sure its not too crazy for you.. cant help but let the big scary monster/trial pass when you run up to it being nice. literally just snaps the thing out of existence/away/wherever. loves seeing the look of triumph on your face afterwards

POMNI:

nice towards you and probably over time keeps a closer eye on you but in the beginning i think its more like. you following her like a duckling since shes busy trying to find an exit. honestly i think pomni would have a hard time when it sinks in that theres a little kid here in the circus. how did you get here? when did you get here? i think thats what would prompt her in trying to connect with you, thus you gain another guardian figure! sticking true my idea of pomni being uneasy around kids because they can be gross and have no filter and be unpredictable i think at first she would be a little... tense around you, but overtime becomes more comfortable when she realizes youre not like that. definitely going to take a while, though.. shrugs

GANGLE:

definitely finds you sweet, lets you hang around in her room and mess with her art supplies. probably cries harder when you try to make her feel better after jax does something, usually something that leaves her with a broken comedy mask. i dont think she would let you confront jax about it, though... she appreciates the sentiment but shes not about to make it look like she sent a little kid to defend her, thats only going to give jax even more ammo even if you stood up for her on your own. sometimes lets you put stickers on her mask or glitter... ponders.. i think she reads stories to you too, every night

ZOOBLE:

i think ive already said this before but zooble gives off such older sibling energy, and i cant really explain it other than its just the personality and looks... but i guess that doesnt explain much. shrugs. sweet younger sibling, cool but indifferent older sibling. or at least you think theyre cool. and you tell them every chance you guy. i think they would just give a weird "thaaanks.." the first few times before fully leaning into the older sibling role. dont get me wrong like before they wouldnt just leave you wandering around alone during an IHA, hell i dont think they would there wasnt one going on.. but they wouldnt go out of their way to hang out with you.. but eventually they just kind of keep a closer eye on you. check in on you. ask what youre up to. theyre not attached to you by the hip but theyre definitely present in your life as a role model. tries to make you be less nice, gives you the talk that not everyone is nice and sometimes some people fake being nice in order to get what they want. but in kid terms, obviously... well not little kid terms i still think zooble would be blunt but they wouldnt be harsh

[yourdeepestfathoms]

My Hopes For The P2 Changeling Route

Or, just some things I think would be neat to see when the time eventually comes for her route!

1. More of Clara being an emotional mess.

One thing I was REALLY surprised to see in the P1 Changeling route is just how emotionally tormented Clara is. She constantly expresses anxiety, stress, and even what seems to be depression. I mean, she literally has a line where she says she has been crying for several days. She is EXTREMELY distressed and tormented, something that I don’t really see people discuss very often. This emotional state is especially jarring because of how she acts in the Bachelor and Haruspex route, where she’s seen being snarky, cryptic, and kinda bratty. And then to play her route and see just how broken she actually is is very shocking.

P2 Clara is very different from P1 Clara. She’s less childish and more “mature,” though that maturity, at least to me, is very fragile, and you can tell this is a young girl pretending to be and acting like an adult because she has to. She’s way more bossy, way more snarky, and sometimes even comes across as rude (though—and this may just be because I’m a Clara defender until the day I die—I don’t believe she’s trying to be cruel or mean, I just think she has a really bad filter and says things that aren’t appropriate. not that any of those traits are even bad traits that make her a bad character. she is a teenage girl, or at least has the mind and body of one; that’s a very normal way for her to act, and i think it’s strange how some people shit on her because of that, despite her being a very accurate portrayal of a teenage girl—you know, minus the cryptic parts of her. but i digress!). I mean, she literally sasses off Artemy on several occasions, and Artemy is probably double her size, triple her weight, quadruple her strength, and has the power to kick her across the Steppe like a football—that’s the most teenage rebellion thing ever! And I’m sure in the Bachelor route, we’ll see even more of her being fiery and snarky because Daniil and Clara have, like, DOUBLE the beef compared to Artemy and Clara!

To have ALL OF THAT—all of that upturned nose sarcasm, that haughty “I’m smarter than you professionally trained doctors with medical degrees and a proper education” attitude, that bull-headed sassiness that makes you want to tell her to put her proverbial phone on the counter and go to her room—and then to get into the Changeling route and see that she’s actually very, very emotionally damaged and mentally ill would be a stark duality to how we’ve seen her in the past two routes. I think it would be especially surprising to those who never played P1 or at least never got to her route and never witnessed that side of her. The mask (haha) would slip off, and suddenly all of her vulnerability is raw and exposed and throbbing before our very eyes.

Because, at the end of the day, Clara is a child. She is a very young girl with obvious mental health issues and a mountain load of responsibilities chained upon her back, a young girl who is bullied and verbally abused and threatened by basically every single adult she comes in contact with (not you, Lara, you’re the real one), a young girl who has been forced to act like the adult she is not because all the grown ups in her life are too incompetent to do things themselves and would rather put it all on a child like she’s their personal work dog (i understand why this is from a gameplay standpoint, she’s the player character ofc she’s going to go off and do the quests, but Jesus fucking Christ, Maria, why are you repeatedly sending a tiny middle schooler to stop the gay men from killing each other?!), a young girl with one of the most, if not the most tragic and downright cruel existences I have ever seen in a character in all of my years of engaging in fiction.

Ahem.

I just have a lot of feelings about this character, okay?

But with the way Pathologic 2 presents it’s storytelling and with the new gameplay mechanics and how it REALLY digs into where it hurts, if IPL DOES use and revamp this aspect of Clara, I think it would make the Changeling route absolutely incredible story-wise and character-wise. An exquisite emotional rollercoaster that never seems to stop going downhill. It would be the best way to strike players where it aches the most.

OR TLDR: I want Clara’s emotional problems to be brought back and expanded upon in P2 so people can see she’s not just a sassy little gremlin child (because I have a lot of feelings about her character often being reduced to just that by the fandom.)

2. An expansion on Clara being the Sand Pest.

Out of everything on this list, I think this is the most likely to come into fruition because it’s a BIG THING with her. But I still wanted to discuss it anyway because I have Many Thoughts.

So, Clara is the Plague. We know this. But in P1, I feel like it wasn’t addressed as much as it really should have. I mean, this is a GIANT revelation—that this girl is the living embodiment of this horrible disease and thousands of deaths are, technically speaking, her fault—and it’s just kinda…swept under the rug. Clara has a moment where she’s like “WHAT” and then it isn’t brought up that much after that.

(And, for the record, I understand why this is. Everyone knows by now that the Changeling route was rushed. This isn’t me ragging on IPL, especially when the Changeling route is still INCREDIBLY well-done, to the point where I personally believe the statement that it’s rushed has been greatly exaggerated by players.)

In P2, I hope that Clara being the Sand Pest is a much bigger aspect of her character because it really is a Huge Thing that needs to be expanded upon. I want to see her have a full-blown mental collapse over this because you can’t tell me that that’s not the appropriate reaction to finding out you’re a living Plague.

3. Interactions with the Sand Pest

I’m referencing that one particular Executor that shows up in P2 to taunt Artemy about killing his kids. During my run, I referred to it as “Sandy,” so for this portion, the bird is Sandy for simplicity.

So, I want Clara to interact with Sandy!

It was terrifying enough for Artemy to face off against this thing, but imagine being Clara, staring into the glowing eyes of what is essentially herself. And she’s forced to grapple with this thing, fight against the consequences of an existence she never asked for, and be constantly reminded that with every breath she takes, she’s stealing the breath from someone else.

4. More interactions between the three Mistresses

The Clara-Maria-Capella trio is really underrated in my opinion, and I hope we get to see more of those three interacting. Because we have Capella and Maria, who clearly already have this established relationship and actually like or at least respect each other, and then suddenly Clara is there, throwing off their, for lack of better words, vibe. (I just know Capella and Maria gossip about Clara when she isn’t in the Nutshell).

5. More interactions with the Albino

The relationship between Clara and the Albino is so adorable and wholesome, and Clara deserves this inkling of kinship and love that he gives her. It’s such an underrated dynamic and interaction that happens in P1, and I REALLY want to see it happen again in P2.

I hope Clara gets to meet all those Albinos that Artemy saw in the Abattoir. I think it would be cute if she just had this flock of brothers.

6. An expansion on how Clara’s powers can just backfire and kill people on accident instead of healing them

I think there were two people Clara accidentally kills in P1- Lika and that mugger outside of Barley’s lair. It’s not mentioned at all with the mugger, and then with Lika, Clara freaks out briefly and then is like “anyway…”

This “power”—the ability to kill people with a single touch—REALLY needs to be expanded upon. Because it is a GOLDMINE for trauma and guilt. It’s also just something that needs to be explored way more because it’s a really interesting concept that P1 never gave much details about.

7. A deeper look into Clara’s existence as a child of Earth

I just really love that she is a dirt child and think it’s super cool part of her character, and I want her to have a deeper connection to those roots (pun intended). The lore in the game and the Steppe culture is so interesting, and it could be explored way more through the eyes of Clara, who is new to it, whereas Artemy knew most of it and Daniil just doesn’t fucking care to learn.

8. No more “stop the gay men from killing each other” quests

As funny as the concept of this small child stopping two sexually tensive men from beating the shit out of each other is, it got REALLY OLD after the second time. At the very least, the dialogue that you get when you speak to Artemy and Daniil each time should be different every day. If they hadn’t said the same thing Every Single Time, I think I wouldn’t have minded the repetitive quests as much.

9. Bring back the Barbie Blaster

Clara is clearly bigger and a little older than she was in P1, but I hope her hands are still too tiny to hold normal guns because I honestly really liked that little mechanic. It made her different than the other two. Also the baby gun you get is literally the best gun ever, idk what hbomberguy was talking about, that thing NEVER missed for me.

10. This funky healing mechanic I thought about

So, I started wondering about something- how is healing going to work in both the Changeling and Bachelor route? After all, they can’t exactly use tinctures anymore. But given how stupidly hard the game is, I wouldn’t be surprised if it expects you to get actual medicine yourself and make yourself go broke.

I then thought about this funky mechanic! I just wanted to put it here instead of making an entirely different post.

So, instead of using tinctures, Clara uses her hands. There are the three layers, like in the Haruspex route, and depending on which layer is afflicted, Clara suffers some kind of penalty while healing the patient, whether it be hunger, exhaustion, or thirst. This makes it to where she can’t just heal people without any sort of price to pay AND it makes her healing way more important because it really was just referenced in the first game. There were less than a handful of times where she ACTUALLY healed someone (not counting the Plague victims, as that is entirely optional). So with this she ACTUALLY heals people and has a very obvious power.

(Side note: maybe the less health Clara has, the less likely she is to heal people and instead accidentally kill them. Or if she’s infected, then she kills her patient or even infects them—or raises their infection level altogether if they’re already infected.)

11. An expansion on how Clara’s healing powers literally hurt her

Empathic healing, where a person has the power to heal but they heal by essentially absorbing the ailment of a person into their own body, is SUCH a good concept, and I don’t know if this was what IPL was actually going for, but I really want Clara getting hurt when she heals to be a bigger thing in her route. Because she DOES take damage when she heals Plague victims, and MAYBE that’s just a balance thing in the game, but even still! A lot of good game mechanics can come into play if healing harms her!

12. More Lara and Yulia interactions

I don’t have much to say about this, I just really like those two and want them to talk to Clara way more

13. A cool opening animation of her birth from the Earth

Artemy got the train sequence, Daniil is probably gonna get him slogging through the Steppe because it seems like brother really fucking walked all the way to the Town, so it would make a lot of sense for Clara’s opening to be her clawing her way out of the Earth and waking up in the graveyard! I know IPL could make a really cool sequence with that, so I have high hopes.

[onlycosmere]

The Gift of Not Feeling

by Janci Patterson

I want to tell you a story about my friend Brandon.  It’s been eighteen years since this happened, and in the intervening time I’ve told this story to fewer people than I can count on one hand. 

I have kept it to myself largely because I know Brandon isn’t the kind of person who wants the good things he does blasted to the world, and I never wanted to embarrass him.  And if that’s what I’m doing now, I’m sorry for it. 

Last week, someone wrote an essay I won’t link here (as you’ve probably read it and I don’t like giving it clicks) that treated my friend at once like a circus freak who lacks feelings and also somehow as someone who is uninteresting and undeserving of attention. The article also treated two separate communities I love with contempt. I seethed about it for a couple of days, but I didn’t really entertain the idea of saying anything online, because it’s not my place and responding to the media is not professional. 

Then yesterday I read this, and I finally had something I wanted to say.

I met Brandon Sanderson when I was twenty-two years old.  I was just finishing my undergraduate degree and he was just finishing graduate school, and we had some classes that overlapped.  From there, we were in a critique group together and were part of a social group where we all hung out quite a bit.  None of us had families yet, and Brandon’s first book would come out during those couple of years, so none of us had intense career demands yet either. 

At that time in my life, I was a mess.  I had arrived at adulthood with several chemical and behavioral disorders that I did not yet understand.  My brain would sometimes and without warning explode in a horror show of fear and shame and pain so strong it felt physical.  I didn’t know what was wrong with me—indeed, I had been suffering from the depression and anxiety for so long that, in my mind, they were me.  I had no way to separate what was happening inside my head from a reality outside of it.  To me, everything I felt was real.  Because my mind filtered everything that happened outside of me through a lens of terror and agony, the world was terrifying and torturous.  In short, I was living in hell.

Most people, when I tried to describe what was happening in my mind, reacted in unhelpful ways.  I don’t blame them—very few people are equipped to know what to say to someone suffering as intensely as I was.   They would try to minimize it in an effort to minimize their own discomfort.  They would try to fix it, when it wasn’t something anyone could fix.  Or, worst of all, they would react in horror, having deep and terrifying feelings of their own about what was happening to me.  It was empathy, but it only reinforced to me that I was scary, Iwas broken, I was wrong.

And then there was Brandon.  Brandon has the fine distinction of being the first person in my life to suggest to me that what I was reacting to, the reality I was living in, was not in fact real to anyone but me.  His first and honest reaction to what was happening inside my head was genuine and unfeigned interest.  It didn’t matter how big or terrifying the emotion was.  I could tell him I hated him (and did) and his reaction, every time, would be to say, “That’s so interesting that you feel that way.  Why do you feel that?”

Why indeed?  I didn’t know why I felt that.  Brandon taught me the words “cognitive distortion.”  He taught me that reality could warp as it entered my brain, that the reality I was reacting to might not be real at all.  It might be all in my head.

Of course, it’s not helpful to tell a depressed person that their problem is all in their head—when it’s done in a dismissive way.  But Brandon wasn’t dismissing me.  He believed I had a genuine and difficult problem—but that problem wasn’t me, and it wasn’t the world around me, either.  It was as if I had spent my entire life living in a box, and I didn’t even know it.  I thought the box was the real world.  I thought the box was me.  I thought the box was all there would ever be to life, and, I think reasonably, I didn’t really want to live it anymore.

But along came Brandon Sanderson. He opened the lid to the box, looked around with interest, and said, “it’s so interesting that you live in here.  Do you know that there’s a whole world outside of this box?  Do you know that other people don’t see you the way you think they do?  Do you know that you exist, separate and independent of this box? Do you know that the box isn’t you at all?”

My whole life I had assumed that my illness and I were synonymous.  Everything that happened inside my head was me, so if it was bad and wrong and a mess, then I was bad and wrong and a mess.  There was no escaping from it, because everywhere I went, my entire life, I would always be me, and it was me.  And then my friend looks at me and says, as if surprised, “Why would you think that’s you?  It’s not you at all.  It’s happening in your head and it isn’t normal and you exist completely separately from it and it doesn’t have to be this way.”  It was as if he assisted my will save to disbelieve the illusions, and suddenly I could see it:  The horror I was living in was just chemicals in my brain.  It was just thoughts in my head.  And yes, depression is real in the sense that chemicals are real, and thoughts are real. And I would never want to minimize the very real effect it can have on the people who suffer with it. But it wasn’t reality.  It was a powerful illusion, but it was only an illusion, and if I could learn to think outside of that box I was trapped in, I could be free.

I could tell you about the other help I needed at that time.  I could tell you about how I needed to move, and Brandon found me an apartment.  I could tell you how I needed medical treatment (obviously), and Brandon helped me navigate resources to make that happen.  I could tell you about the time he sat with me in the ER and told me that the doctors weren’t taking me seriously, and they should be, and I needed to keep talking to people until somebody did.  But none of those things are the point of the story.

The point of the story is this: Brandon gave me the most important gift anyone has ever given me in my entire life—a gift that I am absolutely certain is the only reason I am still alive today.  It’s a gift that has made every good thing in my life possible every day since.  He gave me the gift of not feeling.  Instead of getting carried away in his own emotions when he saw what was happening to me, he gave me the gift of reflecting back to me a logic and patience that a person can only have when they keep their emotions in check.  I owe everything to that gift, so you can imagine the fury I feel toward anyone who would denigrate it.  Brandon is not a freak.  He’s also not the perfect paragon of virtue people sometimes present him as.  He is a person—flaws and all—with a very powerful gift that saved my life, and I doubt very much I am the only one.

Here’s the rest of the story: it took me a couple of years to climb out of that box.  I had professional help.  I did CBT.  I learned to retrain my brain to see the world outside of the lens of depression and anxiety.  For a long time, when a depressed thought would come into my mind, I would ask myself, “What would Brandon say about that thought?  Would he accept that as reality?”  And if I knew he wouldn’t, I would make myself reframe the thought, hammering it into shape until I found a thought about myself that I believed Brandon would accept.  I wanted so badly to live in his reality, the one he saw outside of that box.  I wanted to be able to see myself the way he saw me, as a person with a problem and not a person who was a problem. 

After a few years, I got my mental health to a place where I no longer lived in a constant emotional crisis.  At almost all times in my life since then I’ve been somewhere on the healthy part of the mental health spectrum.  Notable exceptions were during the postpartum period with both of my kids, and one year during the pandemic when I got hit with several personal crises at once.  Even then, I knew I was not the illness.  I knew I existed separately from it.  I knew I could crawl out of the box again, because it was only a box, and not the true reality I knew existed beyond it.

Here’s the thing about my friend Brandon—I owe everything to him, and I’ll never be able to pay it back.  He wouldn’t want me to.  He would be horrified if he thought I felt like I had to.  I joke about Brandon asking me for a favor when he asked me to finish Bastille for him—because that “favor” did a lot more good for me than it probably did for him.  But the truth is, if I am able, I will always do a favor for Brandon Sanderson.  Not because I feel like I have to pay him back, but because it feels so good to give literally anything back to a person who gave me so much.  (And that’s not even counting all the professional opportunities, or the fact that he talked me into dating my husband.) 

But really, I will never be able to pay this back.  Never ever.  So I do my very best to pay it forward.  When I encounter people who deal with similar issues, I do my very best to give them the gift of not feeling.  To sit with them and let them say all the scary things in their heads, and to react with genuine interest, but without emotional reaction.  I have sat with people who want to die, and done my very best to reflect back to them that I’m not afraid of their feelings, that I will of course want to make sure they are physically safe, but that I don’t think it’s scary that they have those thoughts, and that I think they are a real, whole person outside of those thoughts and those thoughts will never define them.  That skill has served me well.  I may never be a person who experiences little emotion (ha!) but I have learned to be a person who can set aside emotion when it’s necessary, and I learned that from Brandon, too.

So I am grateful for that gift.  The gift of not feeling. Because not feeling most definitely does not mean not caring.

Over the years, I have listened to a lot of opinions about my friend Brandon.  I have heard people say things with authority in both the positive and negative, things that I knew to be both true and false.  I’ve never felt the need to correct these things—he’s a public figure and people are going to see the persona and think what they want about him and it’s not my place to try to turn that ship.

But if I could tell you just one thing about my friend, it’s that he’s wonderful. Not because he writes books, and certainly not because he’s perfect, but because he’s a person, and like all people, he has unique gifts that enable him to make a difference in other people’s lives.