#ignore my strange taste in media

[snuize]

Forgot I made this in a dazed state last night and got jump scared by it in my drafts

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blind Offer 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that’s too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Lloyd Hansen, and August Walker

Note: Monday was like a punch in the face. This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won’t reveal which one right away because it’ll be part of the plot!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

It’s not often you manage to sleep in. It’s a true feat for you to wake up after nine on your days off and not lay wakeless and frustrated at six in the morning. Despite this, you feel less than rejuvenated. In fact, you’re exhausted as you sit up and rub your eyes with the heels of your hand.

Dizziness follows you from the bed as you stumble to the bathroom. After letting out the pressure in your bladder, you rinse your face with cold water in an attempt to chase away the dregs of fatigue. You grumble and leave your reflection in the dark.

You snatch up your phone and head downstairs. You flip through your notifs, including a message from your landlord. You’re not entirely surprised by the good night. He seems to struggle with his social filter and timing. Sending you sweet dreams after midnight isn’t exactly sauve.

Whatever. He’s a bit strange but he could’ve lied and charged you for the washer. He could’ve even made you pay for a hotel. As odd as this whole arrangement has become, your complaints can’t outweigh the trouble saved.

You set up the coffee machine to brew and turn to lean in the crook of the counter, enamoured with your phone. You know it’s bad to just sit there staring at a screen at first light but you’re slightly disoriented. You feel like you have to do something to keep from thinking too much.

The coffee is a bit strong. You choke it down as you bring up your inbox. Maybe you should check in about the apartment. Today would be perfect to get back to normal. You have a stretch of five days coming up and you would rather not be scrambling to pack up on a work night.

You bring up Steve’s chat and ignore his last text; ‘sweet dreams, sweetheart ✨’. That’s better left unacknowledged. 

‘Hey, wondering what it’s looking like at my apartment. When do you think it’ll be ready?’

You hit send and stare into the depth of your coffee. The taste isn’t what you’re used to. You like a lighter roast over the smoky dark flavour. You force it down for the much-needed dose of caffeine and rinse the cup. You pause and stare at the dish rack. It’s empty.

You set your glass inside and reach to open the cupboard above. All the dishes are neatly stacked. The plate you used last night set with the rest. The pans are away and the cutlery too. You swore you left them to dry.

You shake off the ripple of unease. Your phone buzzes and you look down at the incoming call. He can’t just text?

You answer it, clearing your throat before you croak out a hello.

“Hey, uh, sorry I haven’t updated you. Been pretty busy,” Steve jumps right in. You can hear activity on his end of the line, “it’s not looking like this will be done today.”

“Oh, really?” You sigh, “well, okay. Thanks for letting me know–”

“Rogers–” Someone calls from his end and he quickly shushes them.

“Yeah, it’s turning out to be a bigger issue than I thought but if you need anything at all, let me know.”

“Of course, thanks. Um, I’ll let you go. You sound pretty busy.”

“Just a lit–”

The line cuts off. You pull the phone away from your cheek and look at the screen. The timer is paused and the call moves to your history. You’re sure if there’s anything important, Steve will call you back.

You bring up the tab viewer and clear away all the windows. You open a new app and stare at the logo, waiting for it to load. It doesn’t. You close out and try again. Hmm. You pull down the menu and check the wifi; connected without internet. Really?

You notice the bars at the top of your phone are gone too, a circle with a line blink over them. No service either. What the hell? A tower might be out. You put your phone screen down and leave it in the kitchen. You’ll give it twenty and hope it’s back up once you’re dressed.

Upstairs, you dig out an outfit to lounge around in and start on your daily routine. Brush your teeth, cleanse, moisturise, the very basics that make you feel human. Usually, the process renews you but today, everything is a task. You feel and look drawn.

You pull on your lavender sweat and plain white tank. You go back downstairs and retrieve your phone. Still no signal. That means you have to entertain yourself. Or… maybe you can find a coffee shop with a functioning hotspot. You could use something sweet after the bitter dark roast.

You pull on your sneakers and slide your phone into your purse. You jingle the keys as you approach the door. You tend to use the doorcode, it’s just easier, but just in case the wifi is messing with the system. You flip the latch back then grab the handle and twist.

The door doesn’t budge. You try again, yanking harder. You use both hands, pulling on it until you’re out of breath. What the fuck? Are you locked in?

You go to the small box mounted beside the door and check the screen. Armed and secured. Okay? You punch in the code Steve sent you but the thing just beeps at you five times and shows ‘incorrect passcode’. You try again, making sure you punch it in slowly so you don’t get any numbers backwards. The same incessant beeping sounds.

“Ugh!” You cross your arms and step back. You can’t even call Steve to tell him.

You fish out your phone and raise it above you. You walk through each room, trying to find a signal. Nothing. You sniff and try to disconnect and reconnect to the wifi. It doesn’t work. You don’t even know where the router is to reset it.

Panic starts to crawl its way up your body. This is so strange. You’re trapped here, alone, isolated. On your day off, too.

You put your purse down and your phone and go to the window in the front room. Try to push it open but it won’t move. The clasp does nothing to free it and your distress begins to build. What is going on?

You lean forward and look outside, hoping you might chance on an elusive neighbour or a passerby. Nothing. The street is just as empty as usual. 

What do you do? Just sit and wait? You’re at a loss.

You stagger back and fall heavily onto the couch, holding your head in your hands. Something isn’t right, you can feel it, but your mind nips at your intuition. It’s nothing. These things happen. Bad luck comes in threes; broken washer, shitty encounters, and now, you’re cut off from the world. 

You’re through the worst, right?

🖤

You doze off in the tedium of your new wireless existence. You don’t realise until you come too, face down on the leather couch with an arm hanging down to the floor. You bend your elbow and push yourself up, a pang sparking across your lower back from the stiff cushions. You look around, searching for your bearings.

You lean forward and take your phone. It’s been almost two hours since the world shut you out. The service bar is still blinking and the wireless is still disconnected. Goddamn it!

You climb to your feet and shake your head, trying to free yourself from the cobwebs. You’re hungry. You should eat. It’ll give you something to do.

You take out the prepackaged salad in a plastic container. You should eat it before it starts to wilt. You pop the lid off and add the little packets of nuts and cranberries, then drizzle over the dressing. You stir around the leaves, coating them with the oily vinaigrette.

You eat slowly, staring at the fridge and the touchscreen set into it. Fancy fridge. Fancy everything in this place. You almost miss the simplicity of your rattling fridge and leaky washer.

You get about halfway through the salad and give up on the dry kale. Not enough dressing in the world can make that good. You close up the container and put it back in the fridge.

You trail back up the hall to the entryway. You grab the handle again, wrench as you pull on it with all your might. You plant your feet and grunt, fighting to pull it from the frame. You stop and flip the latch, thinking maybe you accidentally locked it. Nope, still stuck.

“It’s not going to open,” a voice echoes from the high ceilings.

You spin and press your back to the door, looking around frantically for the intruder. You don’t know that voice. There’s no one there. Oh god, are you going crazy?

“What the fuck is going on?” You ask aloud, cringing as you realise that is definitely insane. You’re talking to a house.

“I said, it won’t open,” the deep timbre comes again. You gulp.

“Wh- where are you? What– Who–” you sputter, confused at what’s going on. You push away from the door and spin, searching for a shadow or ghost. Whatever it is that’s possessed this place.

“I can see you but you can’t see me,” the narrator says.

You still and turn back to face the security box. Still armed and secured. You pivot slowly, searching the walls and the corners.

Even if you found the cameras, what would you do?”

You squeak and clap your hands together. Okay, this is fucked up. This has to be a nightmare. You close your eyes and bow your head, willing yourself to wake up.

“Rogers is right. You’re a nervous one.”

You pop your head up and stare at the ceiling, “what are you talking about? What is going on?”

The voice laughs. You shake your head as you sink your nails into the back of your hands, clenching them tight. Your heart pounds behind your ears, spinning your head.

“Steve? You know Steve?” You ask desperately.

“Doll, you can ask all the questions you want. You give answers, I don’t.”

You whimper, eyes wetting in horror. This can’t be real. It can’t be. Whatever this is, Steve will come and let you out. Whoever this creep is who hacked his system if just fucking with you.

“Shut up,” you snap, “you… you weirdo. What the fuck?”

“You got a filthy mouth,” he rebukes, “lady’s shouldn’t talk like that.”

You reel and stammer. You scoff and pull your hands apart, trying to steady yourself, “fuck you, dude. Men shouldn’t be doing whatever the fuck it is you’re doing. Spying on me, or whatever.”

There’s a click and silence. You wait for a response. Nothing. You spin again, searching. “Hello?”

Your voice reverberates around you. No answer. Just the still, stolid silence of the house.

A low whir underlines the quiet and you face the door again. The narrow windows along either side begin to disappear. You can’t believe your eyes. Black barriers descend over the glass and block out the sun.

You rush into the front room, finding the same thing on the wide bay window. You rush over but can’t stop it, recoiling before the barrier can crush you. Shit, shit, shit. 

“What is happening?” You holler as you face the open room.

Again, you’re left with your own question. You don’t get it. Is this a joke? Wait, what if this isn’t Steve’s place? You were always told not to trust a landlord…

🖤

You pace and pace until your legs give out. You're weak and wilted. Your mind as addled as your body. You don't get it!

You cry out, begging for an answer; what's happening? Who is this bodiless voice? What do they want from you?

Is this what it's like to snap? To enter psychosis? It can't be real yet you don't think you could machinate such a fantastical terror on your own.

You lay in a heap on the floor, waiting for whatever comes next. It's all you can do. Your fingers are bruised and scraped from clawing at the door and windows. Your eyes are swollen from the flow of tears that rises without permission only to recede to a pulsing anger that makes your skull throb.

You hear a jingle. Digital and bubbly. You pop up and reach for your phone. You keep it on vibrate but you never know. No change. No service.

You huff. What the fuck was that? You clasp your phone tight and wobble to your feet. You walk between the couch and the low coffee table, following the jingle as it sounds again.

You enter the kitchen and find the screen of the Amazon Echo flashing at you from the counter. Where it once displayed the time and weather, you see a blaring font. You get closer and lean in to read it.

'Go to your room. Put the dress on.'

You blink. Huh? What dress? You don't wear dresses. You shake your head and stand straight, looking up at the ceiling.

The device chimes again. You read the new message. 'Do it.'

You sigh. What the hell is this dystopian fever dream?

The screen clears, a new message; 'bad girl, your disobedience has been noted.'

Your chest knots. You don't like the sound of that. It's both frightening and enraging.

You tap the screen. Maybe you can access something through there. Maybe get the wifi working. It does the respond to your touch, it changes again.

'Turn around.'

You retract your hand and stand stalk straight. Eyes wide. You quiver as you slowly shift around. You shield yourself, expecting someone to be waiting for you.

You only find the small flatscreen mounted in the corner of the kitchen lit up. The TV screen plays the very scene you stand in. You get closer, lowering your arm as the figure on the screen does the same. The angle is high, you follow it up to the corner.

You take as step back and glance again at the smart screen on the counter. You jump as music erupts from it, a song you know, that you heard recently. 

'The world is a vampire Sent to drain Secret destroyers Hold you up to the flames And what do I get for my pain? Betrayed desires And a piece of the game'

Another message blips up on the screen. You near, hugging yourself as you read it.

'Last chance.'

You shudder and nearly swallow your tongue. You should be defiant. Be strong and stand your ground. You're utterly terrified. Is it Steve? Did he do this?

You turn solemnly away, accepting defeat. You enter the front room and almost in a trance, traipse up the stairs and down the hall. You stop in the doorway of the bedroom. You gasp.

There's a dress on your bed. It wasn't there before. You've never seen it. The red checker pattern, the wrap cut. It's old fashioned in a way. 

The music wafts up louder from the first floor. You spin back to the empty hallway. Someone else was here… are they still there?

[thrill-seeker-if]

Hi, everyone.

--tw for discussing mental health, death. Just a general life update and an explanation for why I was gone. Under the cut.--

I don't really know how to write something like this, but I just wanted to give a little update on my life.

I'm so sorry for the radio silence the past few months. I understand that it might seem that I've abandoned this project, and I understand many of you may feel a bit... I don't really know the word for it, but you might feel annoyed (?) by my not answering, ignoring tags, and not replying to asks.

I wanted to apologize for that. I do not want my following words to feel like an excuse, but I do want to apologize for that. And I want to thank the people who sent me asks checking in on me, even when I didn't have the strength to reply.

These past few months have been incredibly difficult for me. I have distanced myself from my social medias as I didn't want to see people seeing me go through that kind of time, but all I really accomplished was isolating myself.

I lost a few people in my life that were really important to me. I've always struggled with a feeling of It happened in a time that a lot of things were really on my ass, to say, and I had to deal with the loss as I dealt with the other stresses in my life. My mental health came to an all-time low.

After coming back to this for several days, I think although I expressed my thoughts strangely in this, it's important for me to express them. I am grateful to friends and family who intervened and brought me out of my isolation. I am grateful to everyone who checked in on me, including the kind people in my inbox.

The past few days, I have been rethinking about the kind of person I want to be, and slowly getting used to being happy again.

A couple people have asked if I am still working on my if. Thank you for sticking with me! I want to return to my creative passions, which may mean trying to restructure my IF now that I have different tastes-- not meaning that I am giving up on Thrill Seeker, but as it is structured so heavily around mental health, I do want to take it slow and be a bit more honest with myself. I don't want to feel as if I'm self-inserting in my writing, or that I'm driving away from the plot, or that I'm not giving it the right kind of attention the sensitive topics need, either. I am going to slowly chug along in my creative passions again. I want to slowly and gradually return back to Tumblr and back to my writing.

Thank you to everyone who has read this far, to all those who have checked in on me, even when I didn't have the strength to respond. I hope you are all having a lovely week.

[subjectsmile]

This text is an outburst about the bullying that exists in the sonic fandom about a completely idiotic subject: SHIPS, SORRY TO SAY ABOUT THIS, but I need to vent..

Sorry, I came to talk about this here on a social network, but unfortunately I don't have anyone to vent to, but I really need to say this otherwise I'm not going to keep it to myself, and something small can become big after a while, I'm sorry to say this but.The Sonic fandom is really rotten when it comes to respecting other people's tastes, it's simply one of the worst fandoms I've ever been in when it comes to respecting other people's tastes, I think it's second only to Deltarune and Undertale, even the fandom League of Legends, which is known as one of the most toxic fandoms, manages to be less toxic when it comes to respecting other people's tastes, don't get me wrong, I'm making this criticism a bit harsh because I simply can't keep it to myself anymore, and I'm mentioning these fandons because I'm part of them, since I'm Multfandom, and in addition to this lack of respect between the purposes of the fandom as a whole, I see this a lot among ship fans, seriously! I'm tired of being disrespected in groups and on social media just because of my personal taste for a ship, for example: I'm an admitted Sonadow shipper, and I was very well accepted in the Sonadow bubble, I met cool people, others I confess were really good strange and radical, but you know, everything has a bad side, even the things you like, but I ignored that since most of them were really cool fans as people, but the problem started when I thought it was a good idea to express my love for a ship in Facebook groups, man.. that hurt me a lot of comments I received(And this kind of thing doesn't just hurt me, I've found reports from other people on Twitter and Facebook of people reporting being bullied in these places):

"I believe you are strange"

"🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣"

"you're going to be weird"

"everyone knows that the only acceptable ship is Sonamy"

"Get off the internet"

"These wokes ruin everything, everything is gay now"

"Kill yourself and be born again, and come with more sense next time"

Well, I won't remember everything they said to me, and I don't even have the prints unfortunately, but I've suffered a lot of bullying in these groups, even on Twitter I've suffered bullying, so much so that I blocked this type of person, I don't even waste my time trying to argue anymore (although I have the ability to rebut the argument) I simply don't have the emotions for it anymore, I know that ships are a silly thing, and I really agree with that, but the hostile treatment that this fandom has on this topic I believe is not healthy for no one, especially the way some of these people react to it, it's simply too toxic...

E o que finalmente me deu vontade de vir aqui desabafar sobre isso foi um grupo de fandublagem que eu participo, lá eu dublo o Tails, no começo eu gostava de dublar lá e participar, mas o líder da equipe começou a querer dublar coisas da Sonamy e da Amy a dubladora também era fã, nada contra quem é fã da Sonamy, mas eu pessoalmente não gosto do ship, mas não falo sobre isso se a pessoa gosta, porque não quero ser uma desmancha-prazeres chato, eles dublam o que querem e não é problema meu, eu só gosto de justiça, se um ship pode ser uma opção de dublagem, outros também podem ser, então quando fui me manifestar para propor uma dublagem sonadow no canal, eles simplesmente riram de mim e disseram "nós só dublamos navios aceitáveis, como Sonamy, Knuxouge e Silvaze, o que você tem contra navios de canhão?" Eu estava tipo, canhão? canhão onde?! Não existe canhão no Sonic em relação à nave, todo mundo sabe disso, e simplesmente me ignoraram, mas aí tive que engolir em seco a falta de respeito deles pelo meu gosto pessoal e eu ter que aguentar fazer algo que não faço' Não gosto por eles, simplesmente me sinto sufocado, acho que só estou lá até hoje por causa de amigos meus que ainda dublam lá, porque perdi muito a vontade de dublar lá depois desse desrespeito comigo, outras coisas que aconteceram com para mim também foi o fato de ter sido expulso de um grupo do Sonic no Facebook, só porque eu gostava de sonadow e gostava de postar artes fofas (não existia nem SFNW, eram artes inofensivas) o dono do grupo foi até minha conta privada para dizer que meu ship era uma "bobagem" e que o grupo dele era um lugar "sério" que não poderia ter essas coisas para "confundir" os fãs "e só coisas de canhão são permitidas no grupo dele como o Sonamy (sim mais um fã do Sonamy sendo tóxico comigo dizendo que o único navio dele é permitido porque é "canhão" embora isso não seja verdade e sim, eu tenho um screenshot desse evento (e depois disso fui banido do grupo dele E a palavra "esculhambação" no print significa "porcaria" ou "imbecilidade"And Google translate didn't translate it completely because my language has a lot of slang)):

I know that not all Sonamy fans are like this, but if you are like this, please stop, this is an asshole attitude, And I don't say this to Sonamy fans, I say this to Sonadow fans too and to any fan of any ship, your ship is not better than the other and that doesn't give you the right to disrespect others and be a complete idiot!

To finish my rant about these toxic attitudes that I've seen as a fan, I close with a flourish with this nonsense I found on Twitter :

I'll end here, and if you've been through something similar, be it anything (or ship in this case), avoid this as much as possible, it's really annoying to deal with.

[crying-fantasies]

Declaration of a robo-fucker

I think everyone has noticed to this point in my work that, as it is obvious, the many pieces of different transformers media are blended together.

Because every piece of media is valuable, be it north american, asian or whatever that comes, it feeds the little girl that once found something incredible in her uncle's pirated DVD collection when she was 5 years old, the very same little girl that learned English while watching with subtitles in bad quality how Optimus Prime declared that every life matters.

The very same girl that said how much she loved Optimus Prime in school and was bullied for it, with classmates harassing back an forth saying that she wasn't normal for liking a robot, her own teacher telling her parents that the original series for kids wasn't adequate for her age and it was giving strange ideas with inadequate romance.

A kid that was banned from her favorite series, had her poor and innocent uncle be reprimanded for showing a disrespectful cartoon that was giving strange ideas to his way too impressionable niece, an incredible uncle that only wanted to let her know of an alien species that fought for what was right and saw something special in earth and it's people.

A kid that was banned by herself to even think about it again, and if she did, she would do it with shame, one that tried to think about other things while at it because she could still hear the jokes about her and how she would be mother of a microwave.

A little girl that tried to forget but once again found a figment of her interest in the live action movies that, while not the pinnacle for majority, was enough to be accepted in some way, that got every penny in her possession to buy a ticket for herself and still be denied to use it because her parents said it wasn't normal she liked it so much, taking her to the psychiatrist instead of the movie theater while her mother asked God why her daughter couldn't be normal.

She was normal, I'm normal, Just because I like different things doesn't mean I'm that different, maybe not everyone writes about romance between alien robots and humans and that's okay.

So it's okay if I use fragments of the live action movies, be it from the Bumblebee ones or the Bayverse ones, because those were what I could get, especially the BV since my uncle was a fan too and he kept on giving me pirated DVDs under the table during family reunions where we should be normal in their own standards; I remember how the soldiers of NEST risked their lifes, their careers and their future as a whole to bring back Optimus Prime and protect the autobots from other humans, I saw Cade Jaeger risk everything to help the autobots while others said he was a traitor and wasn't normal, I saw Jetfire leave the decepticons for something better, give his life to save a planet in the middle of nowhere just because it was the right thing for him, and in his own words traduced to Spanish: ¿quién quiere vivir una vida llena de odio? (Isn't that what legends are made from?)

No one here is, but we also are, we just don't cut in their correct way of seeing things.

And, yeah, I like some things of the Bayverse, so what? The whole thing isn't perfect, hell, there is no media that's perfect so far because the 100 percent of our community can't agree in the same one, everyone has their own tastes, so don't go shaming me for liking these movies, and I'll keep on using some references in my works with them, you can ignore it or you can just stay away from my Tumblr, is as simple as that, there is no necessity to put the anonymous button to tell how lame my taste is or how ridiculous I'm for bringing up things in the movie or even dare to tell me my work sucks for those little things or to put it down from internet, because internet is eternal, nothing in there can be deleted forever, and it doesn't matter how many times you tell me that you like my content but hate those parts and even have the gall to insult me for it or tell me you'll steal my account to make it right to your tastes, my work will be safes somewhere of that im sure, and why do you want this account?! It isn't even more than a girl trying to create something she likes while other people also like it!

I love the live action movies because those reconnected me with something dear for me, I love the animated ones and I love the comics! All break my heart when someone dies, of course! Who didn't cry at least once when a loved character is gone?! But this is my fiction, this is my alternative universe, and I just want them to be happy and if I can then so be it.

So yeah, I've posted more than ever to spite you, because grow up or whatever, people won't do what you demand them for just because you want it, and yeah Cade and NEST and Lennox and Epps and many other characters of the movies exist in my AU! One way or another because I liked their characters and how they stay with the transformers because I would do the same if I could, help them as I could.

But everything is fiction and even now I'm facing and struggling to help people in a war that doesn't have feet or head and that's miles away from me, and it makes you ask how I can't do better or what the hell I'm supposed to do, which is stronger nowadays since I saw someone post a beautiful drawing of Optimus Prime (you know who you are and let me tell you again, your work made me cry in my path to work because yeah my life suck to it's down degree but there's people out there that are really suffering and need more help) declaring the freedom of every sentient being, and everyone should have freedom to do what they want for as long as it doesn't damage someone else, I just realize that there are better things to do and focus your energy on than harass me when you don't even know who I am.

Everyone has the right to post what they want as long as it doesn't hurt someone else, I don't want to hurt you, whoever you are, I just want you to realize how wrong it is to pester someone in what they are interested just because it isn't your taste, I'm sure you like something similar and that's great, but you can't force me to be like you, and I'm not forcing you to be like me, you can go to other places to search what you like and that's fine.

This is a safe place, I want it to remain like that by deleting every message of yours and be done with it.

[waiitiridge]

✨️Don't mind me, just peptalking myself and spewing it into the void ✨️

Its really strange having a following on social media. I've made so many friends and gotten opportunities I wouldn't have without it. Overall I think I've found a little slice of heaven online. Its 90% kindness in my corner and the other 10% is inevitable. I think the hardest part has been seeing the numbers. It's ingrained in us to view these numbers as a currency. More = better, less = worse. They aren't really numbers though, they are (mostly🤖) people.

I would never expect the attention of hundreds of thousands of individuals. I wouldn't even expect a room full of a dozen to all pay attention to me so why does it feel like rejection when the numbers drop? I know it's just people's tastes changing, people growing, or expeting something different. Why does it feel like someone is saying "I don't like you"? Why does it feel like something in my life is actively leaving me when I don't even know the username, let alone the person, leaving? I hate that I have to see the stupid numbers when I go to my profile to find a video in my saved folder. I don't want to know "how many people left me" last night. There is always this voice in my head that it means I've done something wrong, that I've harmed someone to make them leave but I will meticulously crawl through my videos to see what could have been misinterpreted or left without explanation and I can't find anything that stands out. I start to wonder if maybe I'm just too stupid to see it. Too ignorant. Too cold hearted. If maybe I'm not meeting the expectations of kindness I set for myself. Maybe I'm not funny, just strange. Maybe it makes people feel uncomfortable. I should dial it back. I should think about dialing back personality to make sure I'm more palatable... but if people don't see the real me, who would they be following?

So I do it. I put myself out there. I make the silly videos with my authentic dopey self on display. I put together a little video, a slice of my day, like a diary. I love capturing all the bits. The lighting, the flowers, the bees and trees. The way my ducks waddle after me or the food I made. Marbles sleeping and her paws twitching. I love film and photography as an art form. Finding the angles and lighting to capture the feelings the moment is giving me in a way I can share with others. Part of it is so my daughter will have a way of knowing me and how I saw the world when I'm gone. I would give almost anything to have something like that from my own mother. To see how she saw the world and maybe have some clues for the unanswered questions she left me with. Outside of art and memories, film is just fun. I love finding music that's inspiring and seeing how each sound can change the entire energy of a clip. Like lining up words for laughs or tears. I would do it all again and again even if no one was watching. It's like a game where I'm trying to find the story in my day and pull out just 1 second from each moment to tell it in a way people who weren't there might enjoy watching with no context. Sometimes i win and people love it! Sometimes I think I've got something really great but no one sees it so I don't get to know whether it was watch worthy or just average. Sometimes people do see them and just dont like them, which I personally find better than not knowing.

Social media is a fickle beast. You have algorithms crawling captions for trending words - Heartfelt messages that use descriptive language beyond buzzwords wont do. You have filters looking at the videos themselves for clips that match what it's looking to push - Was every shot photo perfect? Was the lighting good enough for the filters to pick out my face or cute animals? The sound suits the video perfectly - but is it trending? What's the like to view ratio, what about comments and is that enough or are they weighing saves or shares more? Did I leave a comment somewhere or interact with a post that was too political? Am i off the fyp because of it?

I love data and being able to look for trends but statistics tells you not to play lotto, not how to win. As with gambling, it's about learning your limits and sticking with them. Knowing what you're willing to lose and never going beyond that point. If I win a bit, great! If I lose, I lost what I expected to lose and hopefully had some fun in the process ($10 on lord of the rings slot machines when in vegas was a $10 experience I was willing to pay for, plus they gave me a drink!). While I feel that sense of rejection when seeing the numbers, I know I have lost nothing. Making and sharing the art with the friends I've found is worth the sense of insecurity. Absolutely, everytime, YES. When I think about it objectively, outside of my profile page with my social currency on display, I don't care at all about the numbers. It's about the people. I love seeing what my friends have to say about the ducks this morning. I love chatting about what to grow next season or seeing all the ideas for crafts I'm thinking of. I love hearing other people's stories of their own similar experiences. I love the recipie ideas. I love finding people who want to sew and helping them find the right patterns or machine or troubleshoot. I love talking about tinyhomes and what works and what doesn't. The friendships I've made are invaluable. I get so much warmth, love and support. They don't wax and wane with the faceless numbers. This is why I continue. This is the part that matters. This is what the social mediabexperience is all about, actually socialising.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Okay, another one!

Baking buddies!

(If I recall correctly, Julian likes to/knows how to bake, right? Or I could be wrong, I've been switching social media 😅 But I think you did mention it somewhere here🤔 But I hope I got it right, otherwise, this can be ignored 😭)

This one is what the title implied, baking buddies! Featuring Ziana again, and Rain (@silly-farmer's farmer, since she also can bake/likes to bake. If you know some farmers/NPCs who also know how to bake, feel free to add them as well! I don't know many farmers like you do, unfortunately 😭🙏🏻)

Imagine them all (Julian, Rain & Ziana) good at baking but then there is one that they haven't baked yet (probably... Strange Bun for example in here? 🤔) and one of them suggested trying this out together. So, imagine the scene as they all mess up and struggle in the kitchen trying to bake this thing and after many errors, it's done! And now, for the taste!

The result...? (Up to you 👀 Is it good? Or bad and that they worked hard in vain? This is also another funny interaction, hehe.)

Have fun! ^^ I don't know why I have so many ideas (this is like, a gist of it) 😅🙏🏻

Uh, have a good day, Mousy, and uh, bye! *runs* 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

Hello again! Here's another story, and thanks for the question!

This time, in addition to Julian and Ziana, the heroes will also be Rain (@silly-farmer) and Wren (@girls4zelda). This story is shorter than the previous one, hope you don't mind. Enjoy ❤️

_________________________________________

"The culinary disaster"

________________________________________

The spacious cottage kitchen was filled with various sounds and pleasant aromas. The banging of pans against each other, the sweet smell of strawberry jam, the heat from the oven where baked goods were baking, the noise of water from the tap, the kettle boiling.... And talking, so much talking. Of course, because there are not one but four cooks in the room at once, running from one part of the kitchen to another, trying to get the food everywhere in time.

"Goddamn it! What are we doing wrong?!"

Ah, yes, on top of all this, the kitchen is filled with the shouts of those very same cooks.

"I don't get it", Rain continued to wail. "We're doing everything according to the recipe. This bun is much easier to make than the other dishes!" She gestured with her hand to the tray on which a few burnt pastries lay.

Julian, Ziana, and Wren sat at the walnut kitchen table and watched poor Rain try to figure out the reason for such a botched cooking job.

"Maybe the recipe itself was wrong?" Ziana cautiously voiced her suggestion. Cooking with her friends in the kitchen at Rain's house had seemed like a great idea to her earlier, but she hadn't realized that they would encounter such a problem as not being able to cook a bun properly after perhaps the sixth attempt.

"I don't think there was anything wrong with the recipe. It's just a normal bun, we've made dozens of them before", answered Wren. And indeed, on the table there was a whole vase with freshly baked cookies, puffs and buns and various jams and fruits, which were beckoning with their aroma and beauty.

"Well..." Julian began cautiously. "You don't put void mayonnaise in ordinary buns".

"That's true". Wren couldn't agree more. "Rain, my friend, why don't we just forget about the Strange Bun? Sit down with us, and we'll finally start the meal."

But Rain, arms crossed, waited for the timer on the oven to reach zero. "I'll check on that last bun, and then we'll be done".

All three of them looked sympathetically at the blue-haired girl. They understood that the failed baking had hit Rain's confidence hard, as she was a great cook, and had even agreed with her friends to organize a communal cookout, teaching them new recipes. And all was well... Until Shane left her the recipe for that obscure bake yesterday. And now Rain wants to make sure she hasn't lost her skills. Thankfully, the timer has already managed to emit a chime, alerting those present that it's time to pull out the baking tray.

"YEEEEES!!! We did it! We are the best!" Rain's excitement slightly startled all three of her friends, but they immediately breathed a sigh of relief as the girl held the hot baking tray victoriously in her hands, where a - oh, miracle - properly cooked Strange Bun was displayed.

Rain, satisfied, set the bun aside on a plate, letting it cool. The pastry itself looked true to its name: the dough was unnaturally orange, and the filling was an acid purple color.

"So", Rain summarized, "would anyone like to try this pastry?"

"Nope", Ziana, Julian and Wren answered their friend honestly.

"That's good! I don't want to either..." She looked a little suspiciously at that 'culinary misunderstanding'.

"Now let's drink tea!" Finally, Julian poured hot jasmine tea into each of their cups, and they all sat down at the table, eating the delicious fruits of their labor, listening to praise about each other for their good cooking.

[big-pp-energy-ven]

Twitter always reminds me why I gave it up in the first place back in 2020.

I mean other than the George Floyd protests (which I was very consumed in because it was amazing to see how people came together), watching and reading such negative stories/tweets about the aftermath of his death and the racism coming out from everyone made me feel hopeless, and I made a good decision to cut Twitter from my social media consumption for a good 3 years.

Of course, after some time and making a new account, I curated my feed to fit my interests, and I've rarely gotten any negative content since I came back to it this year for art and friends.

However, it's making me once again realize how Twitter in its current condition that its not a great place to be due to how weird people are over there.

Like...

Twitter circles? I don't get that. I've seen people and mutuals on there being like "I cleared my circle, lemme know if you wanna be on it! If ignore you, that means I don't want you in it."

??? What?

I mean, I get it, you don't want just anybody to be in your circle, but why it just feels... strange? Feels like I'm missing a piece of information. I generally dont care who follows/unfollows me, who's cirlce I'm in, who I'm mutuals with, who blocked me, etc etc.. but it just hurts my brain to see this kinda behavior?

Tumblr is so different because I have that same attitude, and for the most part, it's not a massive deal? I can't explain it. Also, I guess seeing how I've had friends who have been getting blocked and "canceled" for mistakes and miscommunication or for simply being different has left a bad taste in my mouth. The fact that one of my friends said how they just feel a sense of dread from even opening the app hurts my heart. Most creators I know need it to make a living, too!

I don't like Twitter culture at all. I'll keep posting my art and responding to nice comments and such, but I don't feel obligated to either. I could very easily just dip and not post on there. That's how I feel. I'm not tied down to Twitter, same way I'm not tied down to Instagram or tiktok.

It sucks that platforms for artists to post on are dwindling and becoming so hostile towards us with AI or negative changes. I hope things will get better, and there will be more places for people to share art (like Artfol).

[fairlyabookie]

Indirect Kiss

Author's note: Day 16 of Promptober! Enjoy!

“I want to try this new sweet shop.” 

An eccentric advertisement showcasing delectable sweets entices [Reader] to click. A link takes them to a website of pastels and catalogs listing a myriad of pastries. 

“That’s…” 

A sour face befalls Ace’s expression, earning a distraught glance from his friend. 

“Don’t you dare tell me that you’re already sick and tired of sweets.” 

“Well..” 

His face contorts into a complicated expression. 

“Don’t you think we’ve been going out too much?” 

[Reader] snorts, their eyes plastered on their phone. Swipe after swipe, they pass through crêpes, sundaes, and mouthwatering delectable. [Reader] could feel their mouth water with each swipe.

“What do you mean~ We do it every week as a reward for making it through the week.” 

“That’s what I mean, we’ve been going out WAY TOO MUCH.”

Upon this, [Reader]’s lips curl to a pout, their eyes locked onto Ace. 

“Ace, we’re saving money wisely every week. Don’t worry about it!” 

“Worry about it, my ass. We’ve been going out to fancy places and splurging every week! Can we take a break?” 

“Well, this place isn’t that bad. It’s cheap!” 

Ace almost hated the cheery enthusiasm his friend had for this shop. Their affinity for sweets doubled with Cater’s recommendation of the shop became the nail in the coffin - five-star reviews from celebrities, including Vil himself, about the menu, the aesthetic, and the atmosphere were enough to convince [Reader] to going. A new craze on social media, this shop sold many a sweet from ice cream special befitting of couples to crêpes dripping in profound sweetness. Ace, on the other hand, watched their vitality in the face of sweets, somewhat impartial to this. Though he didn’t mind sweets, Ace did mind the expenses he and [Reader] spent dining together. 

From quaint cafes to lavish eateries, these ‘dates’ were merely celebrations after a week’s hard work. Sure, it was a refreshing getaway from classes, but the costs were turning him off. Most times would the other first years misinterpret these hangouts as something romantic.  Ace shook them off, his cocky demeanor, dismissing the matter as nothing but jealousy from them. Yet, he couldn’t ignore a strange sensation blooming in his chest whenever he hanged out with [Reader]. If it meant shelling out a couple dollars just to hang out with them and see their face light up from the taste of sweets.. 

You’re being weird, Ace. It’s not like I like seeing them smile anyway; a break from constant studying and from Riddle’s prattling about rules.. 

He nags at himself, his eyes scanning at the digital menu by [Reader]’s palm. 

“You’re kidding?!”

By this, a grin swells by [Reader]’s lips. 

“We should try it!” 

Poor Ace’s wallet. 

~ ~ ~ ~

The two found themselves booking the place a few minutes after classes, the perfect time to unwind and enjoy some good food - well, in [Reader]’s case, enjoy some desserts. 

Swirls of chocolate fudge top a cloud of whipping cream, rainbow sprinkles its colorful crown. A kaleidoscope of vanilla and chocolate form the foundation of an ice cream bliss. 

Not bad for a sundae and cheap price too! No wonder Cater recommends this. 

Ace muses in awe. The pictures shown on the site were nothing compared to the real deal in front of him, and the way [Reader] glowed was enough to tell him everything. 

“Ace! Ace! Quick, let’s take a pic!” 

They scramble for their phone, their fervor evident on their lips. 

“Sure, sure.” 

Ace calms them down with a hand around their shoulders. His phone’s camera reflects a picture of the two of them and the sundae, in which they saw and relaxed. 

“Cater is going to be jealous~!” 

[Reader] giggles as Ace clicks the camera for a picture. 

“Thank you, Ace. Can you send that to me?” 

“Sure.” 

“Let’s eat!” 

Without skipping a beat, [Reader] scoops a spoonful of the ice cream, tasting tart vanilla and milk chocolate by the tip of their tongue. 

“Amazing! Ace, try it!” 

They scoop another spoonful and offer it to Ace. The first year cocks an eyebrow, a part of himself hoping that they were simply exaggerating. Their hopeful eyes and eager hand brought forth the ice cream to him. There he was, testing out his sweet tooth for the sake of [Reader]. 

“It’s good!” 

Maybe it was the stray thought that he was indirectly kissing [Reader] or maybe the devilish thought that he just ate something outside of Riddle’s stringent rules, the first year couldn’t shrug off the dark satisfaction upon tasting the ice cream, the rich flavor enticing him to eat more. 

“Whoa, you’re blushing. Is it that good?” 

[Reader] perks an eyebrow. 

“I was what?” 

Ace almost spitted out the ice cream. 

“You’re blushing!” 

“It’s good. So what?” 

“Dang, I never thought you’d be more of a sweet tooth than me.” 

“Shut up!” 

Ace could feel his blush deepening from their friend’s jabs. Was he too easy to tease? Without a second thought, he spares another glance to [Reader], who absentmindedly eats the rest of the sundae, a delighted smile by their lips. Just a second ago, he ate from the same spoon they had eaten from.. 

Don’t think stupid things, Ace. 

“Here, you got something on your lips.” 

A tuff of whipped cream settles by the corner of their lips. Ace leans close to swipe it by his thumb. 

“There.” 

“Smooth criminal, aren’t you?” 

[Reader] scoffs with a shy smile. 

“Shut up and enjoy your ice cream, you sweet tooth.” 

The first year tries to ignore the incoming heat by his cheeks. What is going on with his emotions today? He asks himself as he watches his friend enjoy the rest of their dessert in sheer bliss.

[nyrita0]

𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖧𝖾𝗒 𝖻𝗎𝖽𝖽𝗒! 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄'𝖺𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀?

───── ❝ 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 ❞ ───── Let me introduce ma'self! I'm Nyra, or you can call me Leo, any pronouns are fine! Pansexual and Genderfluid as f*ck. Nineteen years, almost an Adult (unfortunately) Mbti? ISFJ For the curious one.

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙ 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 ‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

@askglitzler / @meganaskblog ̛͂̍͊ͩ͑͞͏̴̨͕͈̮̩͚/̛̙͍̦̬̦̎̈̇͌̄́̕͟͠ ̶̵̧̨̬̳̟̱͕̿̈̌͗̓͞t̷̔̊̏͗ͭ҉̸̷̢͔͔̰̮̘e̘̙̜̰̖̓̅̔̐ͭ͘͘͢͝͝d̴̶̸̼͇̟̞̥̍͌̋ͧ̇́̕d̵̈̓̂̒̔̕͞͏͍̟̖̺̼͝y̸ͦ́͆ͮ͗҉̶̝̰̭͙̹͘͠î̷̢̧̘̠̗͉̻͂ͤ̎ͮ́͡n̵̷̨̩̱̹̼̥̓ͮ̄ͮ̅̀͞kͫ͛̌̓̒̕҉̴̴͓̤̰̻̳͠ ̾͂ͦ̌͂҉̶̢͎̟̹͉̦͜͞

Gosh, somethin' is wrong with Tumblr! Anyways, gonna fix it other day... Well, on the focus! Got some questions huh? Let me answer you!

Sooo, what is it?

✰ Q: Can I Make Fanart? ✰ A: Yes! You can, let me show you what I allow and... what I don't allow.

✔ Nsfw, Ship with other Oc's, Omegaverse, Suggestive, Lewd, Genderswap, Bondage or BDSM. You can draw my character however you like, as long as you respect his sexual orientation and as long as you don't have fetishes or tastes that involve harming others, there is no problem. ✘ No dubcon/noncon, not shota or loli, Do not portray my characters suggestively if you give them a childish appearance. Don't ageplays or raceplays, please. Don't use my character for bad intentions. This is a strange petition, but please, Not Futa. ✰ Q: The maing tags are...?

✰ A: #Sakyuville #Glitzaglam #Teddyink #ZaidLer #Fanshiler #Meganler #Glitzler Do u wanna show me a Fanart? Use this tag! #Sakyuvillefanart

✰ Q: Can I ask anything in the blogs...?

✰ A: Ofc you can, dear! It will take me a while to answer, so don't think i am ignore your questions.

✰ Q: Do you have another social medias?

✰ A: Yup! Zyuca_0 (Instagram) Poleeen_0 (Twitter, nsfw) Nyrita.__ (Tiktok) nyra_0 (Discord)

✰ Q: Can I be your mutual?

✰ A: YEEEESSSSSS1!!1 ︵‿︵‿୨ DATES OF MY NEXT PROJECTS ୧‿︵‿︵ [1/09] Zaid-Ler Redesign! [???] Comic About Megan and Acty [15/02] Megan blog Re-open [???] New Blog!

Remember that dates are subject to change! [UPDATE] - Ngl, I dont feel okay, Maybe I… I can't get into university. I don't want to give details, the projects will probably be postponed, I don't have an exact date yet. V-GEN COMMS OPEN! Click Here -> ✪

[aschlindartroom]

Mr. Hightower and Mr. Schmidt, sirs, please answer the following ones: 3, 6, 7, 16, 17, 18, 21, 22, 24 ;) (someday I'll stop at one questions, I swear, homies! <3 For the OC interviews btw)

@tryingtimi...

THIS IS SO LATE AND GOT SO LONG OMG.

Enjoy under the cut. My booiis. 😭

The CEO office of Schmidt & Foster is a massive circular room. The walls on either side of the large double doors are intricately painted-- a panorama of color depicting myths and stories from cultures long-dead. At the far end of the office, Martin Hightower and Eckehart Schmidt stand beside a wall of impossibly large windows, their silhouettes overlooking the sprawl of Midtown.

The high ceilings and sparse furnishings make the sounds of your entrance impossible to ignore, and the two men turn to look at you. Mr. Schmidt is a tall, imposing presence-- broad-shouldered and frowning. Even from across the room, you can see that he's put off by your presence, which you expected at least. Your colleagues warned you: Schmidt is a private man despite his position, who only does media appearances at the behest of his ADC Liaison. Liaison Hightower, at least, is a friendly face. His smile does not reach his eyes, but is accommodating. Luckily, all three of you know that this is a puff-piece-- a quick and easy profile.

Hightower invites you to sit on the plush sofa on the right side of the office, and motions to Eckehart to join you. The seats are arranged in a rectangle, two sofas facing one another and two chairs that bracket them. Eckehart takes a seat in one of the chairs. He does not make eye contact with you and taps his fingers on the chair's arm, impatient.

When Hightower returns, he has a coffee for himself and for you-- a high-priced luxury in New London. He rests a glass of water beside Eckehart a shoots him a smile. Eckehart looks like he'd rather be facing a pack of wolves. Martin takes a seat on the couch across from you.

"Shall we begin?" he asks.

What is your favorite childhood memory?

Martin Hightower sits back on the couch and crosses his legs, the picture of professionalism. "Growing up in Cobalt City hardly afforded many easy childhood experiences. To be honest, I'm not sure I have a "favorite" memory." He pauses to consider. "I suppose, the memories I cherish the most are ones of my mother." Eckehart looks up from the thread he's picking at, apparently interested. "When she was lucid, she was exceptionally kind and optimistic. The world could do with a few more people like her, I think."

Martin looks to Eckehart expectantly, almost playfully. Eckehart sighs and looks out the window. He picks at a loose thread on the chair, rubbing it between his fingers.

"I was pretty upset," Eckehart says finally. "Probably a nightmare. Can't remember how old. One of the household staff snuck an approximation of ice cream into the estate for me. They knew they'd get in trouble if they were caught, but they did it anyway. Being from privilege, I'd had ice cream once before, but..." He looks at you in the eye, the first time that afternoon. "Food tastes different when it's shared. It didn't feel like something I deserved." He smiles-- a self-deprecating thing-- and huffs a laugh. "It was so good that I cried."

What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do?

"Leaving Lower London was probably the best thing that could have happened for me, but it didn't feel that way at the time," Martin replies. "For all its dangers, Cobalt City felt like home, and Midtown felt like some strange other world. I was forced to leave a lot of things I'd come to love behind."

Eckehart carefully considers his answer. "Making the choice to fill the post my father vacated when he died... that felt shameful for complicated reasons, even if there was purpose behind it. It was a daunting, weighty decision, and everything in me was screaming, 'walk away,' that it wasn't my problem, that I wasn't made to lead." He looks back out the window. "Never been good at letting well enough alone, but I don't regret it. I think we've done some good work."

Who do you look up to?

"I tend to admire those who possess the qualities I lack," Martin says. He smiles and looks askance at Eckehart, amused at some private joke. "He would hate if I referred to him by name, but his idealism is both frustrating and inspiring. I'd like to have his conviction, I think."

Eckehart grimaces, although it's clearly half-hearted. He turns toward the window and tries to hide his reddening cheeks. He opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. "He's an absolute twat," he says, "but he's... collected. I can be a bit of a loose cannon, I suppose, especially when I'm-- well, when I'm passionate about something." He closes his eyes, leaning his cheek against his fist. "Being near him reminds me to slow down, be more thoughtful." He looks pointedly at Martin. "He's still a twat though."

Describe your perfect day.

"It sounds so mundane," Martin says. "I'd wake up early to watch the sunrise. I would go out to breakfast, somewhere with a view-- good people, good music, that sort of thing. I would spend the afternoon with someone I care for and who cares for me, doing whatever made us both feel alive. A day of new and surprising experiences."

Eckehart crosses his arms and thinks. "I'd sleep in. Make myself a late breakfast. If this was a perfect day, I'd be in a good mood right away, and no one would know who the hell I was, so I'd contact a friend and invite them to the District 5 market to explore. I'd speak plainly to people, the way I could before I took this post at Schmidt & Foster. I'd end the day with good liquor, listening to pre-war jazz albums..." He sighs. "It'd require an act of God, but it sounds nice."

What makes you laugh?

Martin hums thoughtfully, touching his thumb to his chin. "I'm afraid that most humor passes over my head, I'm afraid. My palette in that area is limited."

Eckehart sits back huffs. "Don't let him fool you," he says. "Hightower is the sort of man who enjoys watching nice things get dirty. If a woman in her wedding dress were to fall in the mud, he'd be tickled. The nicer the dress, the better."

Martin smiles and sips his coffee. "Perhaps," he replies. "Although, it might be more accurate to say that I'm amused by the bucking of needless niceties and decorum. Social convention is highly overrated." He shoots Eckehart a teasing look. "I'll admit, it is very fun to watch Mr. Schmidt at Schmidt & Foster's annual soirees. False politeness runs rampant at that sort of affair, and Mr. Schmidt has a unique, 'cutting' sort of wit that offends certain sensibilities."

Eckehart raises his eyebrows at that. He looks between you--the interviewer-- and Martin. For a second he looks concerned, like Martin's just been caught with his hand in some cookie jar. The concern fades and he eyes Martin knowingly.

"I've never catered well to passive aggression," he says, thoughtful.

"No, you haven't." Martin is smiling.

Eckehart rests his chin on his fist and blinks at him. "I can't remember the last time I laughed," he says. "Can you?"

"Two weeks ago I told you were in a foul mood and I told you to go fuck yourself," Martin replied. "That got you going."

Eckehart sputters slightly, again looking between you and Martin. "You make me sound crass," he says, sitting back. "Refined Liaison Hightower, cursing. I suppose it caught me off guard."

"I suppose it did," Martin teases.

What’s the best way to cheer you up?

Eckehart grins. "This one's easy," he says. "Buy Hightower a ludicrously expensive cup of coffee and then argue with him until you're blue in the face. He loves that."

Martin smiles, but doesn't disagree.

"Me, I'll admit that I don't 'cheer up' easily," Eckehart continues. "I think letting me alone to work out my frustration is the best solution." He looks to Martin for confirmation.

Martin is still smiling. "I pass," he says.

Eckehart raises an eyebrow. "You pass? What do you mean you pass?"

"What's that old saying?" Martins says thoughtfully. "A magician never reveals his secrets."

Describe your ideal partner.

Martin closes his eyes and shrugs, as though to say, 'What can you do?' "Someone cute?" he replies. "That probably sounds so shallow. It is, I suppose. Other than that? Any partner of mine would need to be my equal-- a person who isn't afraid to challenge me. Someone earnest."

Martin looks to Eckehart, awaiting his answer. Eckehart crosses his arms over his chest and crosses his legs. "I don't think about it," he says finally. "I don't know... Someone dependable? Intelligent? Someone who doesn't suck up to me. I hate that."

What’s the easiest way to flirt with you?

Martin looks a bit wistful. "I do love to banter," he says. "If I find a person attractive and they verbally spar with me... well, I'm hooked. I'm not above gifts either." He smiles. "I'm a simple man."

Martin looks to Eckehart expectantly. Eckehart blushes. "No one in their right mind would flirt with me, so I'd hardly know." He looks away. "Be kind. Anticipate my needs. Get to know me... I'm not a hard man to sort out."

What would you consider your main love language?

Martin responds quickly. "Quality time, if my previous answer is any indication. Though 'gifts' is a very close second."

Eckehart shrugs. "I don't really think we can limit ourselves to one. Humans are complicated. If had to choose... I'd choose quality time too, I suppose. Acts of service as a close second."

Eckehart looks at you, trying his best to look put-out. "Are we done or what?"

[dzpenumbra]

Music

I have been introduced to one album by one person in the past 3 years, at least. I mean that 100% honestly. I went on YouTube to look it up, it was SoDown - Worlds Beyond.

Here, give it a listen with me while you read this, it's really good.

I'll wait.

You better have it on, it's good.

I realized that there's some really dark shit going on. I know it's not just me. I know it's very pronounced for me, much more obvious in my life because of how few distractions I have in my life, no 9-5 job, no girlfriend, no friends, no family. Nothing to really draw me away from the glaringly obvious (to me) problems I'm seeing.

People are so disconnected, from each other, and from themselves. And I think a big part is due to... not really getting to know each other anymore. Like... it seems like they're kinda expecting their AI algorithms to recommend shit for them, more so than their friends. Amazon recommendations. Google. Trending hashtags. Youtube recommendations based on your tastes. Curated ads, based on your location, your age, your gender, your race, and... maybe a few more factors than just that, but we're not gonna talk about that too openly... It's kinda like people don't give each other suggestions - personally curated recommendations - anymore. Maybe they don't even get to know each other well enough to be able to make those recommendations anymore.

Again, maybe this is just in my life. But it can't just be me. So, if you're feeling it too. Like everyone just wants to argue. Like everyone just wants to win, or appear cool, or be just like all the others. Like people jump down your throat for being an unabashed independent thinker. (No, I won't let adult-children co-opt phrases like "freedom", "free speech" and "freedom of thought" to push some fucking political agenda, fuck off with that trash.) Like people flat out ignore recommendations that you curate specifically for them. Don't watch videos you thought they'd like. Don't click links you sent them, simply because you sent it, then text you a few days later after their social media feed curated the same link for them, saying "I just 'stumbled across' this thing you sent me, I have no idea why I didn't notice it sooner."

So, I'm just kinda done with that. And I'm done like... not talking about it. I'm going to openly speak against it. Make fucking time to value those who take an interest in your life and your preferences, and do not let a corporation justify bleeding your time on this earth dry second by second with mandatory advertisements in order to provide these "convenient substitutes" for you. They are not your friends, they are not a substitute for a friend, they are making money off of you using their service. A lot of money. Do not devalue the power of being a friend, make room for that role in your life. Because in the end, when enough people devalue it, we end up losing a place in society for the act of being friendly. For acting as a friend would act. And it will start to be seen as... alien, or strange. It will negatively reinforce civility and bonding, and make it harder for us, too, to be appreciated for the thoughtful gestures we make towards others. And that can spiral much quicker than you'd think. Everyone becomes competitors, adversaries. And they think they're being friends, because that's what they think friend means. My corporation is my friend, my recommendations are my friend, my aggregated data is my identity, and my friends are my competition. Because we're all in a giant fucking economic game here, and our identities are being farmed to make a small amount of people money while we go out and work 1 hour to earn a wage that we can't exchange for a single meal-for-one from a local restaurant. I got a little carried away... XD so let me clarify. Do not confuse friendly acts of humanity (including personal creative expression) for simulations of those acts, and vice versa. Acts of humanity are the essence of what makes us... human. And for the love of god, don't fabricate that shit. Please. You're people, just be... people. It's not that hard, it should come naturally to you! XD

So, here's one of my longest-lasting friendly acts, my current album recommendations to you, stranger. I don't recommend songs, I recommend albums, you can find your favorite song from the bunch. If the genres don't click with the emotions you're looking for... try the next one. But also, try not to play life so "safe" that you don't experience new things.

Devin Townsend - Lightwork: I don't want to share the link, it just came out and it's very unique and I really like it. YouTube it, if you like both Lightworker and Call of the Void, you should like the whole album and it's WELL worth a purchase. At very least just to financially support one of the most prolific and gifted creative visionaries of our generation. It's pretty universally approachable genre-wise, but Nightwork gets pretty intense on the metal side at times, just a heads up for those not used to those textures. But Equinox is fucking spectacular, it's legit one of my favorite songs right now, and Moonpeople was one of my go-to "driving to the river for my hike" songs.

Kristoff Krane - Kairos 1 & Kairos 2: Confessional hip-hop (that's what I call rap that isn't exclusively about the ego: money, fame, sex, drugs, violence, crime... sin, I guess, if you want to use that kinda verbage.) A very intelligent, self-aware and spiritual man telling the tales of his life, his experience and his perspective through vivid symbolism and imagery, seated amidst the otherworldly production of Graham O'Brien. He has a very stream-of-consciousness approach, very similar to my lyrical process and style, but with a much more dynamic and modern flow (especially tonally) and a lot of cool usage of trap and mumble-rap? (forgive my lack of fluency, I wasn't really in the thick of those genres) techniques. 1 is more... I guess darker? Gritty. It has more edge, I feel. 2 feels much more natural, organic and... open? I guess? Lighter. They are a great contrast and both have a ton of variety and a lot of really cool recurring motifs that you can find traces of even between the two albums. Counting these as one series, it's one of my top 5 of all time.

David Maxim Micic - Bilo 4 : I can't remember how heavy it gets, I only listened to it once while I was packing, then deep-dived down his discography. I used to binge Destiny Potato's album, and it's the same dude. I'm not sure if he works with Alexsandra Djelmas on this one too or if she was just on Bilo 3 (edit - it sounds like she's on "Wedding" on 4.). It all kinda blended together when I binged it. But this shit is just... really fucking good. Very emotional. Very expressive guitar with heavy djent influences, but a ton of progressive/world patterns and progressions and a huge variety of guest instruments and instrumentalists. A lot of melodic diversity, a lot of tone diversity, phenomenal production. Like for real, just put on a pair of good headphones and just listen to his use of auditory space, listen to how much room there is. I'm on "Itch" so that's my recommendation so you can see what I'm talking about. If you like this, you'll like his other Bilo albums too, trust me. This is my second listen, and I'm hooked.

Okay, that's 4 entire albums, that should hold you folks over for a bit. If it didn't work for your taste, sorry. I tried. That's my flavor pallet as far as music goes. I love experimentation, exploration, intelligence and, especially, emotional intensity and immersion. :D

Be kind to one another, be thoughtful and be a good friend. The world could really use more of those.

Now excuse me, I have to go exercise my creativity by finding out what popular relevant catch phrases people are using nowadays, so I can copy them and hashtag them. Otherwise this will never be seen by anyone. Cuz, you know, if a tree falls in the woods and all that nonsense.

[nemesiscthonic]

CW, TW: Suicide mention

Time for me to talk about my thoughts on JDF’s passing. JDF for me left a complicated taste behind for me.

I was introduced to him as “Dr. O” in Dino Thunder not Tommy Oliver the legend. Dr. O became my role model. I was in 5th/6th grade when Dino Thunder was on. It at the time was my everything. JDF in turn became my hero. He is why I am a science teacher was because of his portrayal of Dr. Oliver.

But then I got older...and social media. I saw a man who kind to his fans and dedicated to franchise...but there was an uncomfortable undercurrent.

Always starting projects and bragging, but these would go nowhere

Rumors of how he had treated coworkers on set when younger,

The pettiness he and AsJ had to this day 

Telling at the beginning of the pandemic don’t trust science because it knows nothing but God will protect you from the disease (I hold nothing against him for being religious, only the ignore science part)

And whenever there was a school shooting within hours he’d post himself firing his guns...telling us to take them from him. 

But so much else seemed rumor, so Tommy became my role model, not JDF.

I acknowledge how gracious he was to people, and I still mourn him for what he meant. And mourn that while a lot of the rest of his life was private, for him to commit suicide he had to have been suffering terribly. Its easy to blame the fans for his passing...but remember he had a life outside PR. I wish he could have been on this earth longer, because he did make so many people happy. He loved his family, he was loved by so many who knew him. 

I will miss him in my way

So rest well Jason Frank, world is a strange place without you here

[intrestingatparties]

Day Twenty-Two: "Get In."

Office | Box | Laughter

@themerrywhumpofmay

First of gonna mention this post because I used it to help. Second: How's your day? Are you hydrated enough? Have you been on social media for 5 hours and it's 2 am? Take a break! Take care you yourself.

Characters: Whumpee, Whumper

TW/CW: Somebody drinks black coffee, threats, anticipation, implied electrocution?

It was only day seven of being Whumper's office assistant, and things were getting a bit... Strange, to say the least.

First off- who the heck drinks black coffee with no milk, or sugar, or anything that would make it taste even remotely better? That's just straight up satanic.

Second- if Whumpee gets one more unplaned piercing with the stapler, they were going to quit. Like, seriously.

The first day on the job, they had to recite the 'rules', whatever that was supposed to mean. Then, if they didn't say them right, they'd get slapped with a ruler. And if they broke one, they'd get a little line of silver metal embedded in their hand.

And today, a huge moving box was standing in the center of the large space that was previously filled with a rolling chair and an immaculately organized desk. No sign of Whumper, or anything or anyone else. Just the box.

Maybe this is a thing they do on Fridays, Whumpee thought. Just another strange 'rule'. Or a test of rule 1.

'Rule number one. No touching anything, moving anything, or even breathing on anything without my explicit permission.'

So Whumpee waited.

-

Work started at 6 am sharp. It was 7 am now, an hour since they had arrived an hour since they had stared at the box, waiting for Whumper. Whumpee was still leaning against the hard wall too, which couldn't be considered comfortable. They debated on getting a chair, or leaving to ask somebody where Whumper was.

Thay waited.

-

8 am. Staring had gotten boring, so they sat on the floor, playing games on their phone. Whumper had never given them a number to call or text.

The box made a low, hissing noise.

-

10 am. Whumpee hoped they were getting paid for this.

-

Noon. The box was louder now, impossible to ignore.

-

1 hour and twenty-seven minutes past noon. Whumpee stood up, shook off any reservations, and opened the box.

There was a camera inside

-

"Congratulations," Whumper growled. "You've won a prize."

"I didn't mean t-"

"Yes you did. Now shut up." A broken wire sparked in their hand. "Maybe you should find another job."