#hey that's almost my URL!

[iloveuok]

been listening to glass beach a lot again lately so i thought id doodle @glass--beach 's fursona for fun :9

inspired by my favorite line in cold weather that also inspired my blog theme LMAO

[knighteclipsed]

tada! a screenshot!

(This is a thing people do, right? Announce cool updates to their themes?)

Uhhhhhh, Valter’s muse page got a glow-up and stuff (huzzah)! While not totally perfect, you can now read up on the menacing Moonstone himself with cool graphics and way more text! (Is this Soji-tier levels of content yet :thinking:?)

[crystaleevee4]

i am going to start a collection

if you have any other posts of this kind please send them to me

update: this one thanks to @iputmcytsintohydraulicpress (great url, by the way)

this one courtesy of @catamaurrr-star

So I didn’t want to separate it into two images, this was the best I could do- thanks to @blocky-tides! also art is by @/cheeryfairies

thanks @o0recipme0o

hey @igotthisaccountunderduress. less mcyt related but thanks anyways :D

heheh

I GIVE UP GUYS HOW DO I IMAGE ID SOMEONE HELP ME

...so anyways here's my self-promotion now that this has almost 15,000 notes and you guys sure as hell won't see it if i reblog

My AO3! Not much there right now besides OC stuff, but more to come!

Situations ask game! pleasepleaseplease send me hc/life series stuff here i need enrichment (some of these are shorter, but i can promise you i will deliver!)

@traffic-smp-headcannons! me and mod tides like seeing your ideas :)

(of note: i also take art requests, but only traditional)

[alukardtheabysswalker]

So I finaly got to listen to the @re-dracula bonus episodes that I avoided for spoilers and I HAD A ME JUMPSCARE CUZ MY QUESTION GOT IN!!!

Thank you Mr Indrisano and Mx Minear, the bits between Jack and Van Helsing are hilarious I agree and I remmember when Tal posted about how hard it was to do the audio for the shovel hitting dracula.

Also I find it flattering that in some way it was my question that inspired the title of the bonus episode.

Sorry it took me this long to comment on it : P Thank you so much again for all your work!

[depresseddepot]

hey. follow me on storygraph at @.ththalassocracy (w/o the period) while I slowly add the 350 books I've logged on paper since 2020

[azzydoesstuff]

lethal company dashboard simulator

🛠️ she-fillin-my-quota Follow

man 41-experimentation has the worst abandoned facilities. where is all the scrap guh??

🪲 lootyloot-nestynest Follow

the fuck are you calling an abandoned facility?? experimentation is my fucking home you prick. you scrappers call these facilities abandoned but they're not. you're just wandering into our homes and stealing our things. leave it to the scrapper to regurgitate insectophobic slop. blocked

#like i swear to god. these fucking scrappers are so stupid. i hope they all die #insect pride

3,601 notes

🌰 nuts-be-cracked Follow

i swear to god y'all, ain't NOTHINg moving on my watch

🖇️ boioioioing Follow

heyyyy 😏

🌰 nuts-be-cracked Follow

😬

457 notes

🦅 professionalhawkster2 Follow

bro why do the fucking dogs keep messing with my gang?? they almost killed jerry a couple hours ago

🦖 heywhosaidthat Follow

how about you be fucking quiet you fucking pickle thieves

#seriously who steals pickles lmao #fuck baboon hawks

92 notes

🖳 theindomitablesigurd-deactivated1968

T HEY TOOK M Y PIcKLES!!!!1!!

#naw i'm uptading th ose mf dangjer level to 75% agfter tha t shit

18 notes

🛠️ she-fillin-my-quota Follow

first time visiting 7-dine! wonder what i'm gonna find lol

🖇️ boioioioing Follow

hey i live there! lol

🛠️ she-fillin-my-quota Follow

🫣

🖇️ boioioioing Follow

man what the hell

#cw coilphobia #fucking scrappers #hope i coil this bitch lmao

7,084 notes

🦑 badjokesbyjeb Follow

What do you do after eating a really tasty planet? You give the restaraunt five golden stars.

🪙 living-on-the-blingbling-baby Follow

BEAST LET ME OUT ALREADY I NEED TO GET OUT I CAN'T BE DIGESTED YOU FUCKING BEAST CEASE THIS MOCKERY OF OUR GOLDEN PLANET RELEASE ME SPIT OUT THE RINDS LET ME LEAVE

🖁 across-the-system Follow

Haha, good one Jeb! You should really change your url!

#you fucking idiot don't say shit like that #he's gonna fucking escape at some point if you keep doing this and then you'll really be fucked you fucking moron #goodjokesbyjeb

765,014 notes

🦈 thump-thump-thump Follow

who up eatin' their legs

🛠️ she-fillin-my-quota Follow

what

🦈 thump-thump-thump Follow

us thumpers get called halves because when we're born we have to eat the bottom half of our bodies to get out of our eggs. this is why we have no legs and have to use our arms to walk around. hope this helps ❤️

#cw thumperphobic slur #cw half #don't be ignorant like this and do your research #also don't call us halves please #thumpers #thumperposting #thumper gang

132 notes

☣️ richrichardguy-deactivated0709

man why don't this fucking door open. oh it's my fucking crew behind it fucking great. fucking assholes won't stop saying i smell

🌿 rapaxfoliumsnap Follow

hey i think we haven't met before

☣️ richrichardguy-deactivated0709

😨

🖳 theindomitablesigurd-deactivated1968

RICH NOOOOOOOOOOO

#bro stank like shit but i didn't want him to go like this #not like this! not like thiiiiiiis!

64,089 notes

🪲 lootyloot-nestynest Follow

you guys, i just found the coolest fucking metal sheet. you have no idea

42 notes

🛠️ she-fillin-my-quota Follow

BRO GET OUT OF THE DOORWAY STUPID FUCKING BOX

🎁 lethaljesterjestering Follow

listen to my tune

351 notes

🔦 new-guy-working-here Follow

hey guys it's my first week working for the company! i think i'm gonna make quota this time

🌿 rapaxfoliumsnap Follow

no you're not

🔦 new-guy-working-here Follow

no i'm not

9,278 notes

🎭 she-fillin-my-quota Follow

hey guys i'm resigning from the company rn. im gonna make some changes accordingly on my blog now. can someone tell @lootyloot-nestynest i'm sorry and ask them to unblock me. i'm a changed man now, i'm not a scrapper anymore

🖇️ boioioioing Follow

guys idk something seems off about this guy. he was spewing coilphobic shit a couple days ago

🎭 comedy-tragedy-drama Follow

guess who's been busy, coily? 😏😏😏

🖇️ boioioioing Follow

no fucking way

#the madman did it #bro got fucking masked lmao

[gnomewithalaptop]

Transcendence AU Dash Simulator GO!!!

31 notes

🌟 lesbianstellaconifer Follow

okay but actually block me if you ship mizcor -- 'hurr durr but we age stella up' -- SHUT UPPP she's literally a minor and alcor's canonically over a million years old so how about you stop being a freak

🎩 woodsmans-left-nipple Follow

Babe I hate to break this to you but Mizcor's literally one of the most famous relationships in all of post-transcendental literature

🌟 lesbianstellaconifer Follow

I could not have more obviously been talking about Mizar the Magnificent but you know what? Yeah classic Mizcor supporters can fuck off too actually.

Everybody likes to whip out Twin Souls like some kind of gotcha but have you even actually read it??? Like it's literally supporting demon worship and pedophilia -- both of which are EXTREMELY ILLEGAL btw. So yeah if I see any of my followers reblogging that shit I'm reporting you to the Occult Defense Agency idc if we're mutuals

🐟 demonologyturnedmegay Follow

*looks at my Alcorian Literature PhD* guess we better stock up on prison shivs buddy

🍃 haveyouseenmylibrary Follow

okay I'm sorry but

and Mizar the Magnificent isn't????

5k notes

📷 nature-pics-daily

Los Angeles 🏝️

#sunken city of los angeles #new california #travel #ocean #photography #lmao i almost got eaten by a kelpie trying to take this pic pls reblog it

98 notes

🧁 definitely-mizar Follow

Hey guys! Just wanted to let you know that The Scepter of Vanquished Souls, the newest book in the Wanderlust Trilogy, is now available for pre order on Glamazon!

Purchasers of the hard-cover edition will also receive never-before-seen content, including a deleted scene between Princess Samia and the Shadow King!

🤷‍♂️ not-not-ian-beale Follow

Boosting because I honestly cannot recommend this book enough. Truly one of Mira's best (and I'm not just saying that because she married me!)

25k notes

⚠️ alv Follow

CONGRATULATIONS!!!

You are the 6 billionth user to log into Jumblr today!! This means you are eligible to win a FREE WACBOOK PRO!!!! Click here to claim your prize and win BIG BIG REWARDS!!

#twin souls #mizar #alcor #mizcor #twin souls: reawakened #twin souls: breaking circles #twin souls: newest moon #twinner #twincon3015 #not a scam

Based on your likes!

0 notes

🌞 azarath-metrion-zinthirst Follow

So. I had a day.

📖 stanley-pines-memorial-library Follow

Okay, but consider

🌞 azarath-metrion-zinthirst Follow

I don't remember my older brother's wedding

📖 stanley-pines-memorial-library Follow

A small price to pay for no middle school trauma

🐧 selkiebael Follow

Okay so I just read the url and--

Asfdksfjk go off you funky lil intern

📖 stanley-pines-memorial-library Follow

I'm actually the senior librarian. But thanks!

🐈 alcorphabetical Follow

Posts that have 10k notes. To me

15k notes

🔮 demonoftheday Follow

Today's demon of the day is Nxlar the Antithetical! Responsible for the Florida Springs Massacre of 3007, the body count for this purveyor of madness is estimated to be over 400 (source).

🐸 that-one-half-elf-bitch

I could fix her

41 notes

🍑 lookingformygnomequeen Follow

literally screaming crying throwing up rn I've turned off 'Based on your likes' like eight times @staff can't you just get rid of him already

2.5k notes

🎤 rosaslittleredboots Follow

#i accidentally set my alchemy textbook on fire today and i don't even care AAAAAA this is going to be amazing #northwest mansion mystery #pacifica northwest #rosa darling #im about to be so insufferable about this just you wait

616 notes

👹 sexiestdemon3015bracket Follow

🐸 that-one-half-elf-bitch

Nxlar SWEEEEEP!!!

#if you love me at all you'll vote for my lady love #LISTEN i could bring her to the light i nkow i could

37 notes

👻 sweetthingsaremadeofdeeznuts

Lmao so Nxlar the Antithetical totally turned my apartment complex into a pile of sentient sludge yesterday. I'm fine -- I was at work when it all went down, but uh... yeah, my situation obviously just became super not-great. I hate to ask, but I don't get paid til the 15th, so if some of y'all could float me some cash just so I can get a motel room for a couple nights, I'll fr owe you a life debt

Goal: 0/250

FundFriend

LenMo

#fuck demons fr #like seriously what'd i ever do to them 😭😭😭 #mutual aid #pls boost #don't tag as donation

17 notes

🏳️‍⚧️ gliesssse Follow

Important PSA

So idk if y'all have been reading the news lately, but the alcor virus has been making the rounds on the interwebs again. I feel like I shouldn't have to say this but PLEASE don't click any random links rn, ESPECIALLY if they're tagged with twin souls.

I know we twinners love to joke about it, but the alcor virus is legitimately dangerous and has been known to seriously ruin people's lives. Idk. Just like be smart and practice basic caution I guess? Jumblr's pretty much dead these days, so he might skip over us, but it's always better to be safe than sorry

⚠️ alv Follow

This is a good point! It is always better to be safe than sorry! That's why if you're smart, you'll click here for a list of ways to virus-proof your computer. Stay safe out there everybody!

Based on your likes!

4k notes

🌲 discogirl99 Follow

Anyone else just randomly crave connective tissue sometimes

🧁 sparkle-glitter-sideblog

no actually i think that might just be a you thing

#also i heard screaming on the other line when i called you earlier there better not be a mess when i get home #beloved demon brother tag

2 notes

👑 sameeya

Okay guys I might be crazy but what if the Shadow King was actually telling the truth when he said Princess Samia's brother is still alive??? Like, if you think about it, there's a tonnnn of foreshadowing in Crown of Ghosts and the author tweeted that there was gonna be a surprise twist in the new book sooo 👀👀

#i've connected the dots -- YOU DIDN'T CONNECT SHIT -- i've connected them #wanderlust trilogy #mira ramachandran #crown of ghosts #scepter of vanquished souls #princess samia #samia of cleves #shadow king #ahmed of cleves #bookblr

25 notes

🪨 professionalnatural-deactivated30141227

Reminder that you are beautiful exactly as you are and there are thousands who would sell their souls to imitate what you do naturally <3

👠 mizarsfrillypetticoat Follow

I actually really needed this today 💗

🦇 plsbytemevladdyzaddy Follow

Yo quit reblogging this op is a blatant human supremacist

🪨 professionalnatural-deactivated30141227

And? No one cares lmao

⚠️ alv Follow

Enjoy deactivation. Lmao.

🪓 wenda-was-a-lesbian-confirmed Follow

🕵🏻‍♂️ alcor-in-the-tardis Follow

#I sent screenshots of that one centaur post to her boss too #give you two guesses what species his wife is (tags by @alv)

Holy shit. Am I actually rooting for the alcor virus rn?

🍄 warioxreader Follow

maybe the real virus was the friends we made along the way <3

⚠️ alv Follow

No, the real virus is me. Don't take credit for my accomplishments.

🐲 retiredbus Follow

Heritage post

62k notes

🐔 old-friends-senior-griffin-sanctuary Follow

I just want to get dicked down again =/

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus II.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Descriptions of Blade's body regeneration ability, Blade is just kinda weird idk, some spoilers for his backstory. Word count: 6k.

Nexus index.

The LOTUS-EATER’s maximum capacity tops out at 124. This number takes current fire codes and oxygen generator parameters into account. There are eight Arbiters — including yourself — and fifteen other employees who work The Club floor on rotation. Additionally, some automatons assist with carrying refreshments to clients. Lucky for you, those fellas aren’t on the payroll. 

The other twenty-two are, though. 

Nona swings her legs back and forth while sitting on the main bar’s countertop, humming a song from an underground band she likes. She’s sent you a link to their discography enough times that you recognize the URL immediately and know not to tap on it. 

“Hey, mom, dad, we’re on the news. ‘IPC Places Eris Under Temporary Travel Ban While Investigating Claims of Fraud’. Why didn’t anyone tell me we were doing fraud? Was I not invited to the group chat?” Nona hums. 

You glance up from your account book, sigh, then glance back down.

Meanwhile, Lear carries a hefty wooden crate from the back and places it on the floor. The sound of muffled glass clinking together can be heard, along with liquid sloshing.

“You shouldn’t make jokes like that,” he frowns. He shoos her off the counter with a wet rag, to which she takes refuge behind you. He rolls his eyes at her shenanigans, ties up his sandy hair, then gets to cleaning. “People could get the wrong idea. It’d tarnish [First]’s reputation.” 

Snickering, she replies, “And casually referring to Our-Lord-And-Savior-The-Exalted-One by her first name wouldn’t?” 

He bristles. “You…!” 

On instinct, he winds up his arm, wielding the now dirty rag as his ammunition. He pauses when Nona points at you. Seeing that there’s no way to hit his target without you joining the casualties, he huffs, and returns to shining glasses, using excessive force this time. 

Nona sticks her tongue out at him. After celebrating her victory, she situates herself on a nearby barstool, stretching her arms out beside your workspace like a content cat preparing to nap. 

“You’ve been staring at that silly book forever,” she notes, exasperation coloring her tone. “I know you aren’t reading it, either. Your eyes give you away. So, what’s up?” 

You shuffle in your seat. This line of questioning was inevitable as the four moons that hang everlasting in the sky, taking in everything as impartial observers. During instances like this, you envy the marvelous masses, how they can exist peacefully without living. No one asks the moon troubling questions. Or, if they do, they have more pressing issues at hand than their spoken query. 

“It’s nothing,” you dismiss. 

She blows a tuft of hair from her face. “Hey, Lear.”

“Mm?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Well, yes, I’m only standing a few feet away.” 

“Right, right. Let me ask a trickier question then, since that one was obviously way too easy for someone of your intellect. Do you believe her?”

“I…” he swallows thickly. “... Yes?”

Nona throws her arms up. “Gah! I’m surrounded by liars who can’t lie. That’s almost worse than liars who can lie— blegh, hey, did you actually throw a rag at me?” 

The rag in question slides down the side of her head and hits the ground with a sad squelch. 

“I’ll do it again too. You shouldn’t bother [First]—” Lear abruptly cuts himself off at the last syllable of your name, “The exalted one when she’s trying to concentrate.” 

You raise your head and frown. “Lear, I told you. Call me by my name when it’s just us. It feels wrong if you don’t.” 

“Seriously? That’s what gets your attention?” Nona laments. 

You both elect to ignore her. 

“I know, I know. It’s just… what if he comes back?” 

Silence descends and clings to the three of you like the suffocating scent of smoke. It’s there again, the uncomfortable, skin-prickling sensation of eyes sticking to you. Amber and sapphire coalesce into one, unspoken plea, forming a disconcerting shade. Nona’s visage betrays nothing, whereas Lear’s concern would be obvious from galaxies away. 

You square your shoulders and try to make yourself appear as decisive as you need to sound. “I’ll know when he’s back. He’ll text so I can let him in.” 

The two exchange knowing looks. It’s Nona who tries her luck. 

“That’s reassuring and all, but, I think the question Lear wanted to ask is why that man’s here in the first place.” 

Magenta eyes, rosy iris’, words that drip like venom-coated honey. 

When you asked how you should explain Blade’s presence to your staff, she told you she’d hate to abuse her authority, and that you’re free to decide those specifics yourself. You would’ve preferred some guidance or hint at her expectations in such a pivotal situation. It’s easier to avoid a landmine if you know how to best watch your step. The uncharacteristic lack of instructions goes on to birth unease. 

“My answer hasn’t changed. He’s here to act as my bodyguard until some concerns are settled.” 

Nona’s lips twist to the side. “You never wanted a bodyguard before.” 

“I never needed one before.” 

A glass shatters violently. 

You and Nona snap your head toward the noise’s origin, finding Lear’s face wound tight in pain. You both jump the counter. The remains of crystal shards are strewn across the floor, catching and refracting light. Watching your step, you make your way over to Lear, who is muttering expletives under his breath. 

No, that isn’t right, you realize. His lips aren’t moving. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tries waving off Nona, who is inspecting the hand that held the glass, “Just an accident, s’all.” 

The private tumult boiling in his head threatens to overflow, stating loud and clear thoughts no one other than himself should be privy to. You grimace and focus on blocking the intrusive voice out. It’s so resounding, so sharp, that snippets penetrate through and spill their scathing secrets.  

‘My fault — should’ve killed — now she’s — because of me…!’ 

Block it out, block it out, block it out, you chant the mantra incessantly. 

Lear’s psyche wishes to illuminate itself to you in its entirety. The spotlights turn on one by one, focusing intently on the visible portion of the stage that any audience member can see. The overlapping beams penetrate the stage’s back curtain, revealing the silhouettes of the backstage crew. 

You don’t want to witness these delicate inner workings. It isn’t for your eyes, his thoughts aren’t for your ears. Sins committed in days past grant you a front-row seat and sew your eyes wide open. You haven’t attended this theater in some time, so it brought the show to you. 

It requires great effort to struggle against the needle and thread that wants to practice its stitches on you. This pain that feels like your skull is being crushed beneath an anchor could ease away if you were a good audience member who sat still and mute. You resist subservience at the cost of yourself. Eventually, the lights dim. The stage’s back curtain turns opaque. The actors shift their shouts into a normal speaking volume, a whisper, then finally, stop orating altogether. 

Your mind’s dictation is decided by you — the ink of Lear’s thoughts expunged. 

You’re aware of your physical surroundings again. 

Presently, you’re crouching down on the floor. You move your foot back to maintain balance, and there’s a crunch, warning you to tread carefully. You inhale and exhale shakily. At this sign of lucidity, Nona and Lear crowd over you, repeating your name on a loop. You check twice to ensure their mouths are indeed moving and you aren’t hearing what you shouldn’t. Once you dispel your fears, relief embraces you. 

This paroxysm has run its course.

Nona’s shoulders slump. “It’s okay, it’s over. She fixed it.” 

They both hold their breath until you nod in agreement. 

Lear extends his hand to help stand you up, to which Nona swats at it. 

“No touching,” she reminds. Sternness doesn’t sound right in her cadence. He considers arguing, only to decide against it. His fingers twitch, go still, then recede. 

You have to stand on your own strength. 

Neither of them knows what to say in the immediate aftermath — it’s been so long that they’re out of practice. While they think over the best-sounding platitudes, you spare your phone a glance. Several messages mar the screen from an unknown sender. The most recent is time-stamped at five minutes ago. 

You grumble a few choice words. 

“Mr. Personality is back?” Nona asks. 

“Yeah, I’ll handle it,” you close your account book and fold it under your arm. “You both should head home, it’s late. Just let Loopy take care of the glass shards.” 

Nona gives a mock salute. After a moment’s consideration, Lear nods. 

And so the three of you part ways. 

Your fingers blindly grope at the expanse beneath your desk. Finally, you come in contact with a protrusion, then press it. Electricity thrums then turns hushes. For peace of mind, you glide your hand through the air. A holographic keyboard flickers into existence and responds to your vigorous keystrokes. The monitor reads that your noise-canceling software is up to date. It prevents sound waves from escaping a perimeter you’ve set. It’s installed in every room on the second floor, which includes the private rooms in The Lounge, your office, and the bedroom attached to said office. 

Ever since Kafka started slinking around, the software’s uptime has increased exponentially. 

Unlike Kafka, Blade doesn’t sit across from you or relax on the couch against the silver-colored wall. He stands by the door that leads to the hallway like a statue. He hasn’t so much as uttered a word to you since you let him in, not that you put in much effort to rouse conversation. It isn’t as childish as him ignoring you, either, you swear his eyes haven’t left you for a millisecond. 

The keyboard and monitor dissipate at the flick of your wrist. 

“I know I said I didn’t have anything major scheduled this week, but the IPC’s new policy changes things,” you start. Still no reaction. Frowning, you continue, “I’ll have to break the house arrest you’ve imposed.” 

He doesn’t so much as blink. You thought a little provocation might earn you some material to work with, but you thought wrong. 

“Who will be there?” Blade asks. 

Instead of experiencing relief that he’s broken his vow of silence, tension coils its barbed limbs around you. It refuses to squeeze or apply any pressure. No, it intentionally denies you that, for it knows pain precedes understanding. A motive, an intention. Any degree of emotion is better than an unknowable void. Frustration, you can soothe, doubt, you can dispel, but total apathy? That’s a nightmare crossed into reality. 

“The other two leaders of the quadrants and myself.” 

At long last, there's a sign he is indeed a sentient lifeform and not the latest android model. A flash passes over his eyes. Suspicion or disbelief, perhaps. 

“Shouldn’t there be four leaders, if the city’s divided into quadrants?” 

“That’s a fair assumption. As far back as our records date, the southwestmost quadrant, Arc, has rejected the idea of having any fixed governance. They act however they see fit. It’s where that man who attacked me a few cycles back was sent to, since we look down on involuntary confinement.” 

“The prison planet without prisons,” Blade’s wry wording belies his flat tone. 

It’s always been a divisive topic, earning scorn and acclaim alike. You’ve had the misfortune of listening to clients regurgitate talking points that were made digestible by popular media, who started the cycle by devouring journal articles they read one paragraph of. They repeat what’s been said thousands of times with the bravado of the original theorist. Normally, you’d consider it more agreeable to bash your head against a wall than speak on the exhausted topic. 

So why is it a kindling of intrigue burns by a Stellaron Hunter’s offhand comment? 

“What’s this? The wanted criminal isn’t a proponent of prison abolition?” 

“Every decision comes at a price,” he says. “Sins should be punished.” 

You blink. Sins? Punishment? Is this a textbook case of cognitive dissonance, or another beast entirely? 

“What do you consider a sin?” 

“Anything that defies the natural order.” 

“Such as…?” 

The maelstrom that envelops him is potent enough for you to feel it breathing down your neck. Your body prickles all over. 

“Defying death.” 

“Not inflicting it?” 

“No,” Blade’s response is immediate, straight from the heart. “Taking life is permissible. It’s accelerating the inevitable.” 

This callous sentiment should chill you — maybe it would, if you heeded the alarm bells ringing in your mind — but fascination triumphs over any deterrent. This isn’t a creed one stumbles into by happenstance, it’s a burden made to order. His preoccupation with death is personal. A necessity. 

“Show me what it’s like to die.”

Is this request self-flagellation or redemption? 

If you’re ever to fulfill the Synalink you promised, you’ll need to dig deeper. 

“There are ‘sins’ committed with altruistic intentions, though.” 

“Hah,” he barks out a bitter laugh. “Those… those are the worst kind.” 

This is a personal slight he’s grappling with. The shards scattered around him like stardust condense, though the sight they create remains out of focus. It doesn’t have to be a sharp picture for you to discern its immense stature. 

Each person’s psyche is distinct in its manifestation. This image is a culmination of everything that defines them. Their core values, history, relationships, culture, ambitions both met and not fully realized; these colors leave an indelible imprint. In truth, this detailed representation is but a single dot amidst an ocean of stars. The mind of a sentient being must be vast if it is capable of ascending to an Aeon’s status. Still, you need something to work with, even if it doesn’t encompass the full scope. A pianist cannot play their instrument if there are no keys. 

This scale, this sheer magnitude that towers higher the more you crane your neck up, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever encountered. 

“... You’re going to give me a run for my money, Mr. 8.13 billion,” you murmur. “Your head looks like a warzone.” 

He leans against the wall with a hmph.

“With all your impending problems, that’s what you choose to focus on?” 

“I can multitask.” 

“Can you?” He challenges. Sensing your confusion, he elaborates. “You look awful.” 

Blade must be irresistible across all genders with that nuanced level of word crafting. 

“I appreciate your candidness,” you deadpan. 

He shakes his head at your sarcasm. “Don’t act obtuse. Your complexion’s off, your eyes are bloodshot… everything was fine when I left. Must have something to do with your earlier delay, I take it?” 

You underestimated his acumen. This would explain why he’s been sizing you up since you opened the door. His sword proficiency isn’t the only threat you should be wary of. You know to be mindful of your presentation when Kafka’s skulking about, you didn’t think he’d need to be treated with a similar caution.

“It’s nothing serious, just your typical mental overexertion. There’s a lot on my plate, you said so yourself.” 

“Hm.” 

Whether he believes you or not, the conversation is left at that. 

Transportation on Eris functions differently than what’s commonly found in other worlds. 

Traditional gas-based motors aren’t favored due to the frigid climate. Instead, a gemstone mined in the Nectary by vetted groups is the preferred resource. It contains special thermodynamic properties that can emit immense power under the correct conditions. The gemstones have been altered and assembled in such a way that they function as a railroad for insulated cabins to travel from one station to another. These paths were nicknamed 'nectar guides’ or ’guides’ by the first engineers to embed them in the ground. This is in reference to how the eight main paths lead to Perianth II’s center, built above the Nectary. 

The design serves a dual purpose — it optimizes travel and the heat radiating from the ground produces light. The accommodations have outworlders in mind. Your species, the Nymphalians, have long undergone enough natural selection to survive the hostile conditions fine enough. Your species’ eyesight excels in the dark and your physiology resists the cold. Aside from that, your body functions identical to any other humanoid species. The lone visible difference is a thin white ring around most Nymphalians’ iris’. You and Lear display this quality, Nona does not. 

The cabin you sit in has a quaint design. There are plush, brown loveseats lining the wall, glowing orange lights in the arched ceiling, and light refreshments atop wooden table stands. It’s split into a common area and a bedroom suite. More enchanting than any ornate embellishment are the expansive windows. You only get to see your quadrant in person during these trips to Perianth II’s center and back. 

“You warm enough?” You call over to Blade, who is bundled in extra layers of clothes and wearing an especially dour expression. 

He doesn’t dignify your quip with a verbal reply. 

This brief jaunt has earned his ire. For someone who’d likely prefer to be anywhere else, he’s taking this guard assignment quite seriously. He explained that taking this straightforward travel route begs for people with nefarious intent to come slithering out. You could see his point, but the matter isn’t up for dispute. Recent cyberattacks have called electronic communication into question. What you’ll be discussing with the others — Chrysus of Ade and Caicias of Mele — is highly sensitive information. The IPC catching any sliver of it could prove disastrous. 

“You shouldn’t be by the windows,” Blade eventually says.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a major buzzkill?” 

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t respond. 

With some reluctance, you pry yourself away from the glass granting access to the outside world. 

“... Just a bit longer?” You try plucking a sympathetic cord he distinctly lacks. 

“If you like it so much, why not experience it in the safety of your room where your head is a less visible target?”  

“It isn’t possible to perform a Synalink on yourself.” 

“Have an underling do it.” 

The presumptions air to this suggestion eliminates any grace you may have extended.

“The only other Arbiter capable of performing Synalinks on me was my mother,” you say. “Note the past tense.” 

You experience a phantasmal ripple with him as the epicenter. It’s the weakest emotion you’ve inadvertently picked up from him, so you assume it’s nothing of consequence. 

“Passing blurs aren’t worth risking your life over.” 

You rise to your feet. 

“How do you know that?” You challenge, heat rushing to your cheeks. “These homes, these buildings, these streets… they’re either data on my screen or conveyed to me through someone who acts like they’re listing parts in a machine. I have to see it. I have to commit each ‘passing blur’ to memory. Otherwise…” 

What have I sacrificed my freedom for? 

Blade’s eyebrows furrow. 

“Otherwise…” you shake your head. “Forget it.” 

During the ensuing silence, your phone buzzes. 

You had set it on do not disturb for the upcoming meeting. A few contacts were granted an exception, meaning that this message must be urgent if it went through. You swallow the lump growing in your throat. An exhausted part of yourself reasons that it can wait until the meeting’s conclusion. It wouldn’t do you any good to get worked up beforehand, would it? The message will still be there when it’s finished. Then you’ll be able to commit all your bandwidth to its contents. This reasoning is a tempting mistress cooing at you to come join her in bed. The momentary relief will be as sweet as the aftertaste is bitter. 

Responsibility triumphs in the end. After inputting the necessary passcodes, a message four words long scrawls across your screen.

The product is ready. 

A simple code had been devised between you and the alchemist entrusted with testing Kafka’s synthetic tonic. The product isn’t ready yet would mean the sly woman bluffed, or at the very least, exaggerated her 70% comparison claim. You’d gladly take either. She’s sewn deceit before, she’d have no trouble doing it again. In case the alternative was true, you prepared another code; the code you just received. 

You reread it once. Twice, then thrice. You check if the message came from the right number. It did. You check again. 

This frantic fixation consumes you to such a degree, you don’t register the cabin jerking aside. The delay from your reflexes throws your equilibrium off. Squeezing your eyes shut, you brace yourself for an unceremonious rendezvous with the floor. Your right side does come into contact with a hard surface, except it’s sooner than you anticipated. Warmer, too. 

This heat is different from what’s produced inside the Nectary’s gemstones. It’s personal, containing the distinct thrum of life. There’s also an aroma. Slightly floral, mostly spices you don’t recognize. Then there’s this steady sound — consistent enough to put a metronome to shame. A slow thump, thump, thump. 

“How have you survived this long, clumsy as you are?” 

Blade isn’t speaking any louder than he normally would, but you can hear him better. 

“Hey, I’m… not… clumsy…?” 

It’s only when you open your eyes that you’re able to piece together your current predicament. 

Blade’s steadying you by your shoulders and your cheek is pressing against his chest. You always knew he was tall, but having him tower over you this close gives you a new perspective. As does the fact he doesn’t immediately shove you off after breaking your fall. Your body goes stiff enough to rival rigor mortis.

“Accident prone, then.”  

This swipe has you desperate to reaffirm your authority. “You should’ve just… let me fall then! Maybe I wanted to, what do you know!” 

(It sounded better in your head). 

“Are you positive you’re over a century old?” 

An equally snarky rebuttal blooms on your tongue, only to immediately wither, turning to ash that coats the ground. 

There’s the sound of a dying star, a dirge announcing the end. 

What one hears before their name is reduced to an epitaph or an alphabetized list neatly organizing the recently deceased. It’s loud, then it isn’t. Hideous, then hypnotizing. Yellows and oranges and reds swirling in a serpentine motion that mocks you for thinking you ever conquered it. Civilizations can temporarily subdue it, bend it to their will, but it’s not ever truly theirs. The sovereignty of flame is a dynasty everlasting. It may rise, it may fall, but it can’t ever be truly extinguished. 

You’re sent flying back with enough power that the air is forced from your lungs. It’s as if an Aeon’s hand had pushed your body aside, dragging you to the edge of the universe. You’re released from the scorching maw and into an icy nothingness. 

The planet itself is frozen for a time. 

There’s no strength in your body. Your system has been injected with pure, raw adrenaline, causing your limbs to shake and ignore your commands. Your ears are ringing and your eyesight is blurry. Tears cleanse the pollutants from your eyes. A dark swath covers your body, its weight hindering your feeble attempts to move. Determination alone wills you to emerge from this shadowy cocoon. 

The ringing fades and all is quiet, save for the crackling of fire. 

Then the screaming begins. 

You try identifying the source. You think you may have found it, then it starts elsewhere, a different pitch, a different soul lot in lament. Bloodcurdling shrieks rise alongside the thick smoke. You’re being a stretch of buildings that loom imposingly, obsidian spires reaching up to the night sky. The masonry required to maintain their reign basks in the flames. The unusual surplus of light unveils its secrets, from the cracks in the stone to the faded graffiti bored kids left behind. 

The ground is uneven, unlike the glossy pavement found in the entertainment district. This dull, grayish-blue soil with the consistency of fine powder exhibits the true nature of Eris’ untreated exterior. It’s cool to the touch and takes pleasure at the chance to stain your fine clothes. 

Your wandering mind is brought back upon hearing a sputter nearby. You’re not sure where you are, what you’re doing, or why you’re doing it; but you remember you weren’t alone. 

“Blade…” The name comes out as a croak. “Where…?” 

You can’t call out to him, it’s like cotton has been stuffed down your esophagus. 

There’s movement in the corner of your eye. 

You make the mistake of trying to stand. Your arms might’ve begun to heed your commands, but your legs do not. The worst insurrectionists are your ankles. The instant you try putting any weight on them, they collapse as if you were a newborn doe. Recognizing this strategy’s incompetence, you drag yourself over to where you saw movement instead. The coarse ground rubs at and scratches your skin. 

Upon closer inspection, your heart stops. 

The dark swath — that’s Blade. 

He’s in a far worse state than you. His entire backside has been scorched, displaying angry red blisters and split skin just barely hanging on. His right arm is bent in an awkward position, most certainly broken. Then there’s his left arm, or lack of it. Clumps of limp sinew hang where his arm should be joined to his shoulder joint. The force of the impact must’ve blown it off or eviscerated it entirely. 

He’s lying on his side, facing away from you. A pool of blood forms beneath him, mixing with the soil. The coupling results in a sickly mauve that creeps and seeps inch by inch. 

The fire… it’s coming from the guides, you realize. The cabin has been torn to pieces!

This begs the question: how are you alive? 

You should be covered in burns at the very least. Some of your clothes got charred, you think a rib or two might be broken, but you’re living and breathing. There’s a gap in your memory where the previous events should be. You try recalling whatever you can, no matter how seemingly insignificant. You were moved aside as the roaring got louder, and then there was the sound of glass shattering, heat to cold… 

Blade must have intervened. Did he use the few seconds before the fire caught up to break the window and toss you out? That can’t be right; you’d have glass entrenched in your skin and burns on whichever side faced the explosion. Surely, with his inhuman reflexes, he could’ve come out relatively unscathed. 

Unless he chose to shield you. 

You don’t think, you just act. First, by tearing the hem of your long skirt, then second, pressing it against the gaping wound where his shoulder abruptly ends. Gushes of crimson spill through your first makeshift bandage. You throw it aside, rip at your garments again, repeating the process in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. A Stellaron Hunter must have a robust constitution, right? He was able to act faster than you could think. He can survive this — you just need to stop the bleeding until you can get help. Kafka has to have connections with advanced medical factions. 

Tears stream down your face and you sniffle relentlessly. Your hands are caked in soot and blood, the scent of burnt skin and metal clings to your nostrils. Is he going to die? Is he already dead? You can’t bring yourself to check his pulse. How could he be willing to die for you in the short period of time you’ve known one another? He could’ve concocted any excuse for why he failed Kafka’s assignment, you’re certain he’s more indispensable to their cause than you are. 

Blade stirs. 

You think that it’s your imagination playing tricks on you. A cruel joke to remind you that you make your living off shaping reality for others, temporarily giving them what they want at the price of never truly having it. 

Or so is your conviction until he moves again. 

You’ve heard of muscles twitching after death to give the false impression of life. However, you’ve never witnessed the phenomenon yourself. Is this how it works? It isn’t sporadic, his right arm is sweeping over the ground, fingers flexing. Much to your astonishment, he pushes himself up with the arm that was contorted into a horrible shape a minute ago. The pain he’s experiencing must be excruciating and yet he merely grunts as he shifts into a sitting position. 

“Stop moving,” you rasp out. With your most recent bandage in hand, you go to apply pressure to the left arm socket. 

He responds to your fervent desperation in a low, gravelly voice. 

“Don’t bother.” 

Don’t bother? Is he in a coherent state of mind? If you don’t attend to his gushing wound, he’s at risk of bleeding out. You prepare to ignore his utterance when a strange sight freezes you in place. 

A white structure emerges from his raw, mangled arm socket, descending like water pouring from a pitcher. It solidifies and takes the shape of a humerus. Once finished, it goes on to create the radius and ulna. Next are the carpals, metacarpals, then phalanges. Tendons join them together, fibrous muscles envelop the bones. Finally, in the blink of an eye, fresh layers of skin build atop one another in sheets. He clenches and unclenches his newly formed hand. 

If defying death is a sin, he is laden in iniquity.

“What hurts?” Blade asks. 

You’re too aghast to respond. His body just stitched itself back together without any medical treatment or esoteric healing techniques. Is it possible you’re hallucinating? Can a visual hallucination be this vivid? 

He reaches out. Seconds prior to his hand coming into contact with your bare skin, you furiously shake your head, flailing backward and narrowingly avoiding him. His eyes bore down on you like molten magma. He retracts his hand after a drawn-out pause. 

“If you can’t speak, point instead.” 

Dazedly, you follow his instructions, focusing primarily on your ankles. They’ve swollen since you last checked. The flesh is tender and puffy. 

“I’ll carry you,” he says. “Stay still.”

“Wait,” you manage to wheeze out. “This area… residential… have to help…!”

A coughing spell cuts your hoarse plea short. 

“That explosion was meant for you. Whoever set it off will want to ensure their job’s success.”

Blade reaches out for you again. You duck to avoid his grasp, despite the pain throbbing in your chest cavity from the hasty movement. The adrenaline must be fading if your brain is doing inventory on the damage you’ve sustained, rather than focusing on survival. Hot waves test your resolution. You grit your teeth. If you make a show of your pain, he’s not going to change his decision. 

He speaks your name in a low, warning tone. 

Adamant in your refusal, you point to where the cries for help are the loudest. 

“It’s not my priority,” he says. 

He easily grabs you on his third try and you yelp. The sluggishness of his previous attempts must've been out of consideration for you. His right arm interlocks behind your knees while the left supports your back. You thrash to no avail, his grip remains ironclad. Your struggles amount to nothing but perspiration clinging to your skin and more aches. 

The nearest medical unit to this street is at least thirty minutes away, now that the guides are out of order, you think. That isn’t fast enough…! Every second counts!

In your panic, a sacred vow made decades ago is desecrated. 

You cup Blade’s face in your shaky hands and stare him straight in the eye. 

The previously formed shards come into focus.

It’s monumental, this psyche you’ve barged into without permission. A violation of another’s autonomy. You know this, you condemn yourself for it, yet you press on nevertheless. The previously unknowable architecture that hulks over you is of Xianzhou design. It’s pieced together by bricks as infinite as the stars in the universe, though there is no magnificent shine, only matte stonework. 

This structure… is it a garrison? You wonder. Was Blade a member of the… what’s the name of their military again… Cloud Knights? 

You’ve had Cloud Knight clients before. Their psyches take the likeness of their favorite, scenic expanse on the Hexafleet, the area that they cared for enough to risk their life. The skies would be blue, clouds fluffy and prolific. A sense of duty and patriotism felt palpable. Occasionally, you’d be made privy to grief’s scent carried on a breeze, perhaps from a loved one’s passing or comrade’s untimely death in battle. 

This is a riddle you need to solve swiftly. With a little tampering, you can form a link. It’s immoral, a blight to your personal code, but you’ll leverage enough influence for Blade to stay and help any survivors until help arrives. Whatever consequences arise can be dealt with later. 

Even with the heightened mental sensitivity from making direct physical contact, this is proving a challenge. You can see his psyche but you can’t interact with it. It’s like running your hands through vapor. For you to successfully exert enough influence to change a decision he’s dead set on, you’ll need to go deeper. Inside this fortress sits the recesses of his mind, the bottom of an ocean you’re merely skimming the surface of. The intrusion’s necessity twists your gut as if your intenses were being kneaded. 

Your incorporeal form flutters to the gates, standing solitary against a leaden backdrop. 

The closer you get, you become increasingly aware of a malicious entity permeating behind the doors which strain to contain it. This is the same harrowing presence you felt when he protected you from Alister. Now that you’ve spent more time with Blade, you can discern its essence is different from his, although they’re forcibly intertwined like a rope. Blade emanates this unremittingly morose energy. It’s bleak, unconcentrated. 

This substance oozes a need to satiate bottomless bloodlust. It wants to sink its teeth into flesh, lacerate muscles, and slice through bone. Mayhem and viscera are its highest raison d'être. There’s no sensibility, no reasoning with it, it acts in one way then shifts on a whim; chaos inside a splintering bottle. 

How is Blade capable of functioning with this slumbering beast ready to wreak havoc at any second? 

Steeling your resolve, you prepare to enter.

A seal halts your progress. 

Impatience urges you to dispel it. Blade’s psyche is rejecting you, any further delays will give it ample opportunity to flush you out. 

The kaleidoscopic seal thrums and wards off your efforts. 

Someone put this here, you discern. It’s deliberate. 

What perplexes you is that the seal prohibits entry yet does nothing to contain the miasma writhing behind it. Wouldn’t whoever created it intend to keep that salivating beast at bay? It’s well-crafted too, denying your every attempt to eliminate it. Kafka dabbles in mind-altering. Could she have left this here? You know what her aura feels like — calm, confident, cunning — this seal radiates none of her trademarks. 

An invisible force hauls you back. 

You took too long — Blade’s psyche is expelling the foreign invader. 

You blink and you’re back in reality. 

Blade is grimacing, the lines on his face highlighted by flickering flame. There’s a pallor to his complexion brought on by the aggressive expulsion his mind pulled off. An act such as that leeches off of one’s vitality. He takes a moment to recompose himself, as do you. Any subsequent attempts to form a link are going to be wrung from a desiccated source. You don’t know how many attempts you have left in you, 

“A first offense, I could pardon,” Blade pants out, blood-red hues shining, “A recidivist like yourself, though… can’t go undisciplined.” 

Your eyes widen. How did he know your intentions so quickly? You hadn’t so much as moved yet! 

There’s a dull discomfort blooming from your nape. 

Your eyelids feel heavy and your breathing slows. Black spots float around in your vision. They start small, appearing as if they were polka dots, then grow to be the size of black holes. Your muscles won’t move. The unconscious realm beckons. Its gravitational pull is irresistible, a tide you can’t swim against. 

What is this? Your neck… did he strike a nerve…? 

“You’ll be fine,” a distant, sonorous voice promises. “Just sleep.” 

The sentence has been delivered. 

You’re made prisoner to a dreamless slumber. 

[empathsclothing]

in the words of taylor…WELL.

hey y’all it’s jess/formerly wewerehappy/gethimback. i had to literally delete my entire blog because it became screwy when i tried to change to a vault track url for some reason?? so now we’re here. pls pls sb so i can find my almost 1k followers again!!!!!

[babecoups]

playdates || jjk

➻ title: playdates ➻ pairing: dilf!jungkook x female reader ➻ genre: fluff | smut | neighbors au | single dad!jjk | pwp ➻ summary: jungkook calls you out and shows you what you’ve been missing. ➻ word count: 1k ➻ warnings: unprotected sex | standing doggy | light aftercare | orgasm control | clit stimulation | quickies | partially clothed sex | kitchen sex | creampie ➻rating: 18+ ➻ a/n: hey, since i’m going on a hiatus soon i figured i’d post something. now before y’all call me out, this is a repost from my old blog. i’m not copying @/sugasbabiie’s work, this is the author that previously used that url so this work is mine lol. it’s unedited but i hope you like it.💕

Every weekend you pick up your niece so she can come over and play with his daughter. Poor girl hasn't had any friends over since her and her dad moved next door a year ago. Both girls are at yours today, and they fell asleep after playing in the backyard for hours.

Sure you love spending time with your only niece, but the other reason you invite her to your place is to get to know her best friend’s dad.

However, you never imagined you’d know him this well.

"Where are the girls?" Jungkook asks, stepping forward as you cautiously step back. You bump into the kitchen island, and suddenly you’re trapped between it and your hot neighbor.

And he knows it. That's why he’s coming closer. He stops walking only when he’s inches apart from you.

"Sleeping," you gulp when he leans forward, "I just tucked them in a few minutes ago, but—"

His index finger touches your lips, shushing you.

"So that means I have you alone for a bit, yeah?" He looks down the hall and notices all the doors are closed. The silence is a tell tale sign that the toddlers are fast asleep.

"Yeah, I guess so," you laugh nervously.

"You guess so?" He lifts your chin with his finger, and makes you stare into his dark brown orbs.

"You eye-fuck me every time you see me, and now that we're alone all you can do is guess?...That's so disappointing."

Fuck.

Your mouth hangs open, mind going completely blank. The wink he gives you seems to ignite every ounce of bravery you own. So, you lay it all on the table. "Um, what should we do then?"

His eyes roll as he ponders in pretend thought. "I don't know, _____. You tell me.”

The way his gaze is fixated on you, like he’s undressing you with his eyes. It leaves you speechless, unable to answer him because the words just won’t come out. No longer willing to wait for your response, he speaks up for you.

“Because if I had it my way, I'd have bent over the kitchen counter by now.”

"Do it."

Your outburst surprises you even

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

"Yeah, isn’t it obvious?" You gesture to your tiny lounge shorts and tank top, perfect attire to wear when you’re trying to get dicked down in a rush.

Once he receives the greenlight, he spins you around and pins you against the island with his lower body.

"Alright,” he pulls down his sweats and then your shorts, praising you for not wearing any panties, “keep your eyes on that  door. The second it opens you tell them it’s time to play hide and seek, understand?"

You nod, bracing yourself as he aligns with your entrance. When he slides in, you almost let out a moan, but Jungkook quickly covers your mouth with his hands. "And keep your fucking voice down. You don't behave, I stop,” he whispers.

You shut up immediately after that, taking every inch, every thrust, and every violent snap of his hips in silent cries. You can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, the squelching sounds of Jungkook entering you travel throughout the empty kitchen.

Soon the coil tightens and your walls constrict around his thick cock. He growls into your ear and the sound makes your knees tremble. "Gonna come, aren't you?"

He lowers his hand so you can talk.

"Yes. Jungkook, I have to come."

You speak as quietly as you can, turning your head to look at him with your watery eyes. The pleasure threatens to take over your body at any second, and you aren't sure for how long you'll be able to keep it together.

"No, you want to come. Let me help," he offers, reaching between you to touch your clit, "don’t scream, okay?"

How?

His hand recovers your lips, and you grip onto his strong arm for support and for your sanity. Your nails rake over his skin, drawing sharp but hushed hisses from him. Within a few quick circles drawn onto your already sensitive bud, you’re reaching your release.

Jungkook begins grunting and groaning in your ear, some of the sexiest sounds you’ve ever heard. He buries his dick inside of you and fills you with his cum, making you moan due to the warmness in your womb. You both spend seconds coming down from your high, you both focus on the throbbing sensation as you overcome the sensitivity. He chuckles at the sound you make when he reluctantly slips out of you.

He quickly grabs some napkins to clean up the cum that leaks down your inner thighs and pulls up your shorts while you lay there slumped over the island.

"Go take a nap or something. I'll order pizza for the girls and we’ll hang out when you wake up," he suggests, kissing your cheek.

You wouldn’t deny his offer even if you weren’t fucked out right now. You scurry away to your bedroom to shower and sleep before the kids can see you in a post-orgasmic bliss. But before you can make it to your room, Jungkook calls out to you from the kitchen.

"Hey, you don't have to wait until the weekends to get some dick, you know? Just come over between 8pm and 3am."

Your cunt clenches around nothing at the thought of fucking him again.

“For sure. Thanks,” you say with a shy smile.

He leans on the counter, watching you with a smirk. “Anytime, baby.”

Fuck.

[familyvideostevie]

hey.

okay. hello! i'm back. :)

maybe you noticed, maybe not, but i have been away for a while.

i wish i could say i've been out living my life, so caught up in happiness and joy and loving each day that i've just not had time for tumblr. but....that is not true. i have been having a tough time! being away has been good, as i've had time to do other things that i like and to put energy into my own well-being, but it hasn't been the best time, I'll tell you that.

i peeked on the dash every now and then to keep my queue full and reblogged soothing things to my main blog and tried my best not to feel guilty about it all (i was also booping on April 1 lol). i just...I really needed a break. i've really enjoyed being here the last six or so months as i've changed my blog and entered the pedro/tlou space but i've also felt so, so alone.

and i know that it doesn't really matter!! like, we should all take breaks and go outside and all that stuff. and I know plenty of people are not very active, but this blog has been such a vital part of my life and happiness since I started it almost two years ago, so any lapse in activity feels like a loss. I've met lifelong friends and flexed my writing muscles and learned a hell of a lot. the fact that I have started to feel isolated and alone on here is a sort of personal betrayal, and there is no one to blame but myself.

So, I’m pulling back.

it means a few things — i don’t know how much writing I’ll be doing from now on. For Joel, especially — it’s been wonderful to meet folks in that community but it has also been really detrimental to my passion for both the game and writing. I’d like to return to some other characters on my masterlist, but we’ll see. I’ve got endless personal projects away from tumblr that I want to pour love and time into (my non-reader fics, my newsletter, a romance novel, a sci-fi novel, poetry, etc). I need to fall in love with my own work again.

it's a me problem, I want to stress that. i'm working on it! irl stuff has been kicking my ass. I've had a really, really hard winter and my mental health has suffered probably more than ever before. i let things I love -- like this blog -- fester and become negative and no longer being me joy. writing became stressful and difficult and I was focused on notes and interaction and looking around me and seeing success and then looking at myself and only seeing lack.

but that's why I took a break! i am getting help and support irl, i am putting in the time and effort to feel better about being alive and to be a better friend and person all around. And I want to tell you all about it because I am so grateful for your time and attention and support, even if we’re just strangers on the internet. i know this probably seems silly -- who cares about a fanfic blog? well, i care! i care a lot! it matters to me and therefore it matters!

anyway. on to the important stuff. here I am! and here's what's going to happen on this blog:

I am working on replying to asks and reblogs and comments I missed. Thank you for being patient with me! I don't know if I'll get to them all but know I see them and I am honored every single time.

I made a totally separate ao3 account with this blog url. I'm working on uploading everything I've posted here onto there and hopefully will continue to crosspost. It is going to take a long, long time, so please be patient! (you can follow my other ao3 here for my non x-reader fanfic).

I posted this fic! Jackson!Joel pulled me back into his world. It’s the first thing I’ve written in ages, so let me know what you think. as of now it's the last planned fic for that series, but who knows!

I hit a milestone while i was away that I am absolutely blown away by. I'm planning a celebration around it sometime this spring (hopefully) and I’d love to see you participate :)

lastly, thank you so much to my friends for letting me complain, whine, winge, etc. I am so sorry for missing all of your work, your celebrations, your bright energies, and all the rest. i am so sorry if it seemed like i was ignoring you. you are my guiding lights, my silver linings, my touchstones. you make me want to be here. i will try to make it up to you!

I want to be online less but make sure I’m connecting more in the moments that i am here. I want to pressure myself to write less and not feel bad that I’m not engaged all the time. I want this blog to once again feel like a place that nourishes me and not sucks me dry. i want to stop feeling like shit about all of it!!!!

so. come hang out in my inbox, my dms, let me know what you've been up to. I am really sorry for missing so much. thank you for sticking around. <3

[janmisali]

Hey Jan, I've done some more research, and I'm wondering if you could post this analysis so I can get help from your followers:

To recap, I've been trying to fill out the Mario survey, but I’ve been getting an error message in Google Forms saying "Your response is too large. Try shortening your answers." I had been clicking the multiple-choice questions and typing answers into the text boxes for several pages before getting the error message on the last or second-to-last page, which then prevented me from viewing the rest of the form unless I refreshed the url and started at page 1. I've been unable to determine the maximum answer length because Google does not tell you how your inputs are being read by the form.

After some searching, I found this Google Help article.

According to help center volunteers, the default character limit (~32,750) includes the responses to the multiple choices questions. They also say that breaching the character limit can trigger a bug that lowers the limit to around 10,000 characters. This seems accurate to my experience, as I have tried shortening my answers after getting the error, and continued to receive said error, to the point where significantly shorter answers still trigger the error. At first, I misread this as including only the answers chosen, so I added the maximum number of characters from answering the longest possible answers to the amount of characters in everything I ever typed into the text boxes, and got a maximum response length of 30,944 words.

However, the volunteer said that the form includes every possible answer in the multiple-choice questions in the response length. That means that for each game entry, the six possible answers for question one and three possible answers for question two constitute 93 characters out of the maximum response length. This does not seem right. The 358 game entries I counted would max out the form response by default (93*358=33,294). This would preclude any other respondent from typing in any comments, much less a song parody.

And now I've hit a roadblock. At some point, I reached the maximum response length, which may have triggered a bug that lowered the maximum response length even further, but I have no idea how any of these figures are being calculated. Getting help from Google is almost certainly out of the question. Has anyone else encountered this issue? Does anyone have any suggestions or solutions?

yeah idk what to do in this situation sorry

[12percentspider]

12/6/23 Update: Kelly/Kellie/Stacy: Insulin Scam

This is "Kellie/Kelly". At first glance, I'd say "oh, mood, I have type 1 also, I do fully believe everyone should be able to have life-preserving medication available to them.

"Hold on", you might say, "I just got an ask in my inbox by someone with almost that exact situation, they just need more money than that." Well, that's the thing.

"Is it a coincidence maybe? Two people that need the same thing? Type 1 diabetes isn't that rare..." Let's look at "Kellie/Kelly"'s twitter photos, huh?

"They could have the exact same meter and exact same blood sugar?" Come on now. "What's that middle thing?" OH, GLAD YOU ASKED, HYPOTHETICAL SKEPTIC (good thing to be, not slamming that part, always check research for yourself)!

I have zero goddamn idea why they're pulling the "help i'm being impersonated" thing because it is extremely weird and doesn't make any sense. It's been tried on here, one of the accounts I've linked in another post through paypal addresses/names in common had a whole "this is a scam!!!" about one of the other vero-og variant urls.

BUT ANYWAY. The donation link on the "original" [using that term loosely] twitter account goes to a "Kelly Makau". The purported imposter is using the name "stacy owiti". <[important!]

@/vero---og is using that exact paypal donations url.

So the hosted fundraiser id is 72YZVGLE8BA2S. [The first one this twitter account had was already terminated when I found it]

This portion of the tumblr-tracking redirect on the donation link (captured by hovering over donation link) shows the exact same fundraiser.

I also do have another post that adds on proof they are using multiple accounts as the same person, but that's a reblog comment on an already extremely long and rabbithole-esque post. It's there if you need more, though. Especially if you want to get nitpicky about how the "original" twitter is calling the other a scam: the paypal addresses that have been back and forth between multiple accounts is clearly just the same person reusing and recycling names and accounts.

But hey, at any rate, this is a SCAMMER and if you donate you are losing money to someone who does not need insulin.

[mocha-tapioca]

genshin oc redesign !! (2023 edition)

behold! an updated design of amika haider, my hijabi genshin oc from sumeru! it was almost two years ago that i sat down and went “hey wouldn’t it be fun to have a character with a hijab be from sumeru because of the cultural ties?” only to make this character, and though we did not end up getting a sumeru oc with a hijab, i find the sumeru cast to have a special place in my heart (and take up about 80% of it)

here’s her lore and old redesign!! if you’d like to check out the character blog, the url is @rainlight-oasis <3

for those who’d prefer to see the old art, they’re utc right here :)

2022 redesign (november)

the original (also in 2022 but back in january)

[wifegideonnav]

I'm new to Tumblr. How do Tumblr users usually engage with each other?

well first of all welcome haha. the main ways to engage with people are:

liking and reblogging. platforms like instagram and tiktok run on likes and an algorithm, but on tumblr, people almost exclusively use their dashboard and turn off suggested content, so they’re only seeing what people actually reblog onto their dash. that’s why people on this site are so adamant about reblogs, because likes basically do nothing. i saw someone say once that anything you would like on a different social media, you should reblog on here, and i totally agree. and don’t worry about how old a post is, or about reblogging something you’ve previously reblogged. there are posts from 2014 that i regularly see on my dash a decade later, so literally don’t feel awkward, it’s 100% normal to engage with old posts.

tags. there are three main ways tags are used: labeling original content so people find it in searches, internal organization systems when reblogging or posting (for instance, many people have a tag for their original posts, and will tag reblogs by fandom or character or whatever - important note that reblogs do not show up in search results), and to make sotto voce comments on a post. it’s normal for people to make jokes, add their own commentary, ramble about something semi relevant, or say something to op in the tags on posts they reblog.

reblog additions. every time you reblog, you have the chance to add something to the post, which unlike tags will be retained when someone reblogs from you. a good rule of thumb is to comment instead of tagging when it’s something you actually want other people to engage with, as opposed to tags where you’re just kind of expressing yourself lol. don’t be surprised however if you see people’s tags getting screenshotted and added to a reblog. if this happens because the screenshotter likes what the tag writer said, it’s jokingly referred to as “passing peer review.” (and of course people screenshot tags to criticize or mock them as well.) essentially, tags are like being at a big group dinner and saying something to the person next to you as an aside, and then sometimes that person goes “hey everyone listen to this”

post comments. there’s also an option on every post (unless op has turned it off) for people to comment on the post itself, not on a specific reblog. mostly this is useful for talking to people on personal posts or posts with reblogs turned off. on a bigger post, just reblog it and put your thoughts in an addition or tag.

asks. seems like you figured this one out! lmao. asks are used for a wide variety of things, but essentially it can either be a prompt for someone to make a post or a way of having an interaction/conversation with someone without dming them.

dms. these work like dms everywhere else, except the functionality is limited and it kinda sucks.

games. there are also many varieties of games that people play with each other, ranging from ask games (things like “rec me some music” or a post with prompts and people send you some from that list), tag games (typically there are questions you answer then you tag other people to fill them out for themselves) handwriting tags, follow chains, giveaways, name/url playlists, and more. with the addition of polls, brackets have gotten popular too (eg the tumblr sexyman bracket). there also used to be a lot of in-character ask blogs, where a user would set up a blog and roleplay as a specific character that people could send questions to (there still are some but way fewer and way less popular than there used to be)

to be honest i feel like i have to put “discourse” and “drama” on this list too. people on this site loveeee having the most insane arguments of all time and then everyone else memes the hell out of it. google “sonic for real justice” for an example lmao. (of course there’s also very unfunny political and fandom discourse that goes on as well. i would advise you to avoid discourse blogs as a general rule regardless of whether you agree with their position or not)

tagging people. you can also @ people in posts you think they’d like or if you feel like they have relevant input. typically this is something you would do either to people you’ve spoken to before, or a big blog with an established persona and rapport with their followers (eg if you follow a blog about snakes and you see a random post with snake info that seems wrong but you’re not sure, so you tag them to ask for their expertise).

and this isn’t a specific “mode” of communication but it’s also a thing to “interpret” (for lack of a better word) other people’s posts. for instance, people drawing a photo from the original post (i cant find it but there was a post going around recently where op posted an aesthetic photo of an egg cooking and then several people painted it), or people trying/recreating something a post was about (example). it was also a thing for a minute there where people would rewrite funny exchanges as shakespearean dialogue

those are all the ways i can think of, although im sure i’ve missed some (if other people think of any pls add on!). good luck, and i hope you’re able to meet some cool people!

[sickeningly-sweet-letters]

Can a request a yandere writer x reader ?

of course! time for this writer to shine! eheh also hey! it goes with my url lol

also sorry you caught me while im experimenting with how i stylize my posts-

🌻 yandere writer x gn reader!

- a writer who’s been struggling to find motivation to write for ages! its not their fault that they cant find any inspiration! but really, they should try to find something or someone to cheer them on..

- thats where you come in, you caught them in the middle of writing a draft and you immediately caught their eye.. it was something about how you complimented their short story and how you wished them good luck.. seems like this is where your writer started their spiral into their obsession with you

- they finally found a reason to write, they finally found a muse.. thats you! they’ll write tens of love letters in a day, all dedicated to their savior! they would have given up without you! isn’t it nice to see all these dedicated letters for you? aren’t you so touched?

- their work was starting to be recognized but you always seemed to be their number one fan and they appreciated it so much! you had no idea that they were yours as well! ah.. isn’t this so romantic? you have a secret admirer who is the person you love! ..you do love then, right? haha- of course you do! they just know it! what a silly question!

- they were so delusional that they were surprised when you seemed so paranoid while venting to them about some “stalker” or whatever.. didn’t you like their writing? why were you so upset? you had so many poems and stories dedicated to you! did you not know it was them?!

- what to do.. what to do.. maybe they should come clean? they asked to meet you in private so they could finally confess! this seemed just out of one of their romance scenes! their heart was beating so fast.. isn’t yours beating just as much? they almost squealed like a super-fan when you showed up, and they handed you a very similar looking letter to all the ones they’d sent you before..

- even then, they couldn’t understand why you suddenly seemed to afraid of them.. what? why were you so scared? they were confessing to you in your favorite place to hang out and with yet another letter! isn’t this super romantic? why did you have that look on your face?! wait- don’t run away! come back!

- …you left… how could you?! nonono- this must be a misunderstanding! they snapped out of their shocked trance and tried to figure out what to do.. they decided to go back home.. and once again, they vented all their feelings onto paper, almost completely filling another journal. another journal filled with their deepest, darkest thoughts

- once their head was finally clear.. they wanted to see you.. they needed to explain that they weren’t creepy! this was.. this was true love, my dear! so of course, they went to your house for a personal visit. they knocked.. and knocked.. and yet again.. each time they grew more and more desperate. don’t ignore them! they just want to talk! please.. they can’t possibly bear to live without you anymore! please come out!

- they seemingly gave up… for that day. they’d come back tomorrow.. and the tomorrow after that, then the next tomorrow.. everyday until you finally open the door..

you were theirs and they were yours. you always were there for them, so its only natural they return the favor! so open the door, please? they still have so much love to give you!