#out of all the difficult things i've ever had to accept about myself
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
lith-myathar · 3 months ago
Text
.
#datv spoilers#dav spoilers#veilguard spoilers#datv critical#i think what most like. gets me here.#is not that this game was a misfire. it's whatever even i did find it diasppointing overall#i thonk what i much more disturbing to me about it is just how much this feels like a death knell for the IP that i love#we'll probably get more but i expect it will have the same like. sanitized marvel-esque feel#and none of the soul that made me love it in the first place#very sad to have to watch this thing i've adored and that has been with me through so many difficult experiences#that brought me together with lifelong friends#have to die this kind of a slow death and just get hollowed out#*sigh*#tho tbh it's kinda shocking it's lived this long as well as it has#the ea purchase was really what spelled the demise it's always been a matter of time for bioware#and dragon age had a target on it as soon as it got traction and popularity#not that bw has ever been blameless in a lot of these choices just that EA is arguably one of the worst corporations overlords to have#and i don't think think the environment for bioware to evolve into what it could have been has ever existed since that happened#dao was a game that existed in the same vein as the orginal nwn and kotor and bg#that's what bioware's bread and butter always was#and for all that i have a lot of affection for mass effect i think it set a precedent for moving away from that original winning formula#and instead of expanding in new ways or building from both models or whatever#it's just gotten smaller and more dumbded down and more constricted#and bg3 is the closest a recent game has gotten for me to that old feeling and even that had its off notes#i just feel ick about it all. im not giving up on the possibility that this is a ship that could get turned around#but i just....i have reached a point of acceptance that i may never feel deeply enthusiastic or passionate about these games again#no one can take what ive had with the first 3 but#it really sucks that i just kind if have to resign myself to that
12 notes · View notes
vanessagillings · 11 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I’m posting the ever-so-rare photo of myself alongside one of my characters based on my childhood because today is World Autism Acceptance Day, and I wanted to show my little corner of the internet who this particular autistic person is:  
I was officially diagnosed in February, at age 38 (I’m now 39). A lot of people thought I couldn’t be autistic.  Some people who know me in real life still don’t.  And until around 10 years ago, I didn’t think I could be either, because I was nothing like the stereotype media portrays. I was told that autistics lacked empathy (untrue), and never played make-believe (also often untrue) and only enjoyed STEM.  I was — and am — an empathetic artist -- and make believe?  I can spend days sketching finely bedecked bears brewing tea or carefully choosing the right words to weave tapestries of fiction — though perhaps my hyper focus was a bit of a red flag.  Even so, how could autism describe me?  I was a good student.  I got straight A's. I didn’t act out in class.  I can make eye contact…if I must.  And lots of girls hate having their hair brushed with an unholy passion, right?  Clearly I swim in sarcasm like a fish, so autism couldn't be why I was so anxious all the time, could it?
If someone had told me when I was younger what autism ACTUALLY is — instead of the nonsense I’d seen on screens — I would have seen myself in it.  I didn’t hear that autistics have sensory issues until I was in my mid-twenties, which is when I first began to really research autism symptoms, and I had almost all of them:  sensitivity to light, smells, fabrics, temperatures, textures, and certain touches, all of which make me feel anxious, I fidget (stim), I never know what the hell to do with my hands or where to look, I talk too little or too much, I have special interests, I have entire animated movies memorized shot-by-shot and can remember the first time and place I saw every movie I've ever seen but I often forget what I'm trying to say mid-sentence, I echo movies and tv shows (my husband and I have a whole repertoire of shared echolalias, making up about 20% of our conversations), I was in speech therapy as a kid, I have issues with dysnomia and verbal fluency, I toe-walk, I can't multitask to save my life, I like things just-so, I’m deeply introverted but not shy, I need to recover from all social interaction — even social interaction I enjoy — and I find stupid, every day things like grocery shopping, driving and making appointments overwhelming and intensely stressful, sometimes to the point where I struggle to speak.  It turns out, I am definitely autistic. My results weren't borderline. Not even close. And while these aren’t all of my challenges, and not everyone with these symptoms is autistic, it’s definitely something to look into if you present with all of these things at once. 
So why did it take me so long to get diagnosed? The same bias that exists in media threads through the medical community as well, and because I'm a woman who can discuss the weather while smiling on cue, few people thought I was worth looking into. Even after I was fairly certain I was autistic, receiving an official diagnosis in the US is unnecessarily difficult and expensive, and in my case, completely uncovered by my insurance.  It cost me over $4000, and I could only afford it because my husband makes more money than I do as a freelance illustrator — a job I fell into largely because it didn’t require in-person work; like many autists, I have been chronically underemployed and underpaid, in part due to physical illness in my twenties, which is a topic for another day.  But it shouldn’t be like this.  It shouldn’t be so hard for adults to receive diagnoses and it shouldn’t be so hard for people to see themselves in this condition to begin with due to misinformation and stereotypes. Like many issues in America, these barriers are even higher for marginalized groups with multiple intersectionalities. 
It’s commonly said that if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.  This is why it’s called a spectrum, not because there’s a linear progression of severity (someone who appears to have low support needs like myself might need more than it seems, and vice versa), but because every autistic person has their own strengths and weaknesses, challenges and experiences, opinions and needs.  No two people on the spectrum present in the same way.  And that’s a good thing!  No way of being autistic is inherently any better than any other, and even if someone on the spectrum struggles with things I don’t — or can do things I can’t — doesn’t make them more or less deserving of respect and human dignity.
But speaking solely for myself, the more I learn about autism, the happier I am to be autistic.  I struggle to find words and exert fine motor control, but my deep passion and fixation has made me good at art and storytelling anyway.  I find more joy watching dogs and studying leaf shapes on my walks than most people do in an entire day.  More often than not, the barriers I’ve faced weren’t due to my autism directly, but due to society being overly rigid about what it considers a valid way of existing.  My hope in writing this today is that maybe one person will realize that autism isn’t what they thought — and that being different is not the same as being less than. My hope with my fiction is to give autistic children mirrors with which to see themselves, and everyone else windows through which to see us as we actually are.
If you’re interested in learning more about autism or think you might be autistic, too, I recommend the Autism Self Advocacy Network  autisticadvocacy.org and the following books:
What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic by Annie Kotowicz
We're Not Broken by Eric Garcia
Knowing Why edited by Elizabeth Bartmess
Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD
Loud Hands edited by Julia Bascom
Neurotribes by Steve Silberman
(trigger warning: the last two contain quite a lot of upsetting material involving institutionalized child abuse, but I think it’s important for people to know how often autistic children were — and are — abused simply for being neurodivergent).
Thanks for reading 💛
2K notes · View notes
soupblr · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media
Displacement
Denial
Projection
Rationalization x x
Regression
Tumblr media
#projection is like my number one enemy and she is always wearing camouflage... i do this with both negatives and positives#it's very difficult for me to understand where the border between myself and others is. my perspective is lacking#on rationalization -> see the posts i made regarding hypocrisy and theory of mind. linked them (relevant for projection also)#rationalize nothing. find reality and then accept it good and bad. you waste your most precious resources otherwise. time and energy#regression also yes but i try to be aware of that... like when i was saying i've been triggered for months that's a huge part of it#*traumatic or extremely stressful event* *gets hit with the rejuvenator* ... like i literally have to remind myself wtaf#i absolutely hate that that is something i deal with i hate it...#i'm usually aware of when i'm in denial about something as stupid as that sounds because i will just avoid thinking about it lol...#i think about everything way too much so it's a noticeable absence. but there are things behind the curtain too which !!!!! pmo#but i broach the topic when necessary... it's the assessment of when and how necessary it is that i struggle with. i try to avoid denial#but that bitch wears camo too sometimes...!#displacement yeah but i always take it out on myself unless it's really fucking bad and at that point i should really just ask for help#asking for help is so hard i need to work on that. especially now ghhhhhhhhh#i think the idea that i'm self aware is counterintuitive in itself i just try really hard#and i had been in therapy for so fucking long doing this shit that it just feels weird not to#pursuit of self awareness isn't actually self awareness... it can lead you in the opposite direction if you are not careful. main gripe w#a lot of my therapists. they just kept leading me in the wrong fucking directions. the power imbalance in therapy makes it useless for me#i am not going back unless i find someone who can actually understand me enough to not be accidentally or carelessly forcing#their own/society's mentality on me. of the two therapists i have any respect for it stands out to me that they LISTENED & treated me EQUAL#like when i showed up one day not able to DO therapy that day bc i was hysterical and he just sat beside me for like 30 minutes#sharing presence. instead of trying to tell me to calm down or doing shit on his computer. he just sat with me in it. intentionally created#space for me to experience my emotions & made it clear that he was holding that for me as an equal by sitting beside me. i fucking HATED it#...but appreciate a lot in retrospect... he chose to believe me & do what would be the most helpful to me in a moment where Nothing Was#every other therapist ive ever had wouldve not taken me srs that all i could do that day was show up & tried to force me to do work#triggered me even more to the point i dissociate/disconnect to be able to calm down & then judged me as noncompliant on top of it#i feel like this helps clear the picture a little esp considering displacement and my history of sh#i have really really always tried my best not to hurt anyone#anyone i have intentionally hurt probably deserved at least 80% of it#<- not a rationalization literally just an ugly truth. because i let it get that far... so it's still on me in the end#z
2 notes · View notes
writtenbymisunderstoodnerds · 7 months ago
Text
Rock bottom (But you pulled me up) (Ingrid Engen x Reader)
I'm trying to work on my requests and WIP, but inspiration is lacking so I thought I'd try something new. This is my first time writing for someone out of the uswnt and in this style so please let me know what you think.
Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, brief emotional abuse. Slightly suggestive at the end. Anything I've missed let me know.
Words: 2.8K
You could tell Ingrid was hurt, it was written all over her face. She had made you a lovely dinner and just wanted to have a movie night after not spending much time together. Yet here you were making an excuse to leave once again, you felt like a horrible girlfriend. Ingrid had taken the time to do something nice for you, but you couldn't get out of your head enough to enjoy it. Before you had the chance to get up, Ingrid uttered those three words that sent dread coursing through you. "We need to talk."
You swallowed hard before speaking, "About what?" 
"You barely spend anytime with me anymore. You never message me first, we only do stuff because I organise it. I don't feel like you want me anymore. You're slipping away. Are you trying to get me to break up with you because this hurts so much more than just doing it yourself."
"No! Ingrid-" Tears stung your eyes as you tried desperately to keep it together. Afraid that if she saw how broken you were she would just leave. Things had been difficult for you lately, you were depressed, anxious and stressed. You felt so close to rock bottom, as a result you had been pulling away from Ingrid. The last thing you wanted was Ingrid to leave you, but you also didn't want to be a burden to her or scare her away with your emotions. 
"Then what is it? Did I do something wrong?"
You could practically see the hope disappearing from Ingrid's eyes the longer you didn't answer, leaving hurt in its place. "I feel like when I see you, I need to be able to give you 100% of myself, of my energy and time. I can't do that right now and it makes me feel guilty. Like I'm a horrible girlfriend, that you deserve better than what I'm giving you."
Ingrid took your hand, everything in you fighting the urge to lean into her touch, to fall into the comfort you knew was waiting. If only you could bring yourself to accept it. The voices of your parents and ex-girlfriend hung in the back of your mind stopped you though. The voices that told you you were a burden to the people around you, that everyone had bigger problems to worry about and didn't care about you. The voices that told you Ingrid deserved better than you and your problems. 
"Elskling, relationships don't have to be equal all the time. There's times where it'll be 50/50, but there's times where you give 90% and I'll give 10% or the other way round, sometimes it'll be 70/30 or 60/40. You get my point. What's going on? You haven't been yourself lately and it's really worrying me. Talk to me please."
You sighed pulling away from Ingrid to cross your legs under yourself, grabbing a cushion to hold. There was a part of you that thought being single would be easier, that there was less risk of hurting Ingrid that way. At the same time you knew it was those stupid little voices in the back of your mind that kept pushing that thought. You loved Ingrid more than anything in this world and deep down you knew she loved you just as much. You didn't want to let everyone else win, you didn't want to let your mind win for once in your life. 
Talking about feelings was incredibly hard, it wasn't something you could do while being comforted by Ingrid or anyone really. "I'm sorry for the way I've been acting lately, it's not fair to you and I know that. I-I'll try to explain it all, bu-but I need you to be patient with me. Just let me speak and not touch me, I can't do this if you do."
"Anything you need. I just need you to know that whatever you tell me, I won't ever judge you. I love you Y/n, I love you so much."
"I love you Ingrid. I'm sorry if I ever made you doubt that. Okay, so I um I think I need to start with why I have such a hard time letting people in, especially those I love. My family, well to put it bluntly they're assholes. They were constantly putting down everything about my sister and I, nothing we ever did was good enough. Any problems we went through were nothing to them, they always told us that people had bigger problems, that they had bigger problems and we were just adding more stress to their lives if we talked to them about anything remotely not positive. Tha-thats the short version anyway. My uh my ex was pretty similar, she would tell me that she had better things to do then deal with my trauma or depression. If I was unhappy she would turn it around, say that she wasn't enough to make me happy. Even before her, I majorly struggled with my feelings and opening up to people. Fear mostly, that's why I um haven't told you anything. Fear that I'll be too much for you and that you'll leave me."
Tears threatened to fall, but pushing them back you continued talking. "I'm really struggling right now Ingrid. My depression is the worst it's been in years. The anxiety just sits there constantly under the surface making it feel impossible to breathe. Constant doubt about if I've made the right decisions, if I'm good enough at football, if I'm good enough for you, there are so many more things I could list. Sometimes I feel like everyone would be better off if I just packed up and left. I'm so sick of feeling like this, but I don't know how to get it to stop. This is probably one of the scariest things I've ever done, but I've had already almost lost you Ingrid. I can't let them win by actually losing you. I love you so fucking much, I can't lose you Ingrid, I can't."
Tears were near pouring out of you both as Ingrid sat there for a second. When you didn't speak she must have decided you were finished talking because the next second arms wrapped around you so tightly and you completely broke. Ingrid held you tight until the sobs turned to sniffles then you feel silent. Ingrid's hold never completely let go, it was like a life line at this point. 
"I love you Y/n. I loved you before and I still love you just as much now. I'm not going anywhere. Nothing your parents or ex said is true. I always want to know how and what you're feeling, I will always be here for you. No matter what your mind tells you, you are never too much for me or for the team or anyone who truly loves you. Our lives are so much better with you here so please don't even think about leaving because we will miss you. I will be here every step of the way while you figure things out, I will help you get the help you need. If you need space, I'll give you that, but if you need me here then I will always be here. I know you feel like you need to be giving me all of yourself, all of your energy, but you don't. Even if you can just give me 1% until you get over this bump in the road then that's enough for me. You are enough for me Y/n."
"I think there will be times when I need to be alone, but most of the time I just really want to be with you. I need to work on accepting that I deserve your love and comfort so I actually seek it out when I need it or want it. Some reassurance every now and then will help I think. Can we talk about the next steps tomorrow? I just want you to hold me right now."
"I will give you all the reassurance you need and more. Have you eaten today?" Ingrid asked, but the look in her eyes told you she knew the answer so you just shook your head. "Okay, I'm going to order some food while we cuddle here then we can go to bed."
True to her word, Ingrid held you tightly while you lay on the couch, staying close to your side during dinner and as you got ready for bed. "Thank you, for everything you've done, for being here, for loving me."
Ingrid kissed you softly, before pulling away and leaving soft kisses over your face, "Always."
Lying in bed later that night, head resting against Ingrid's chest, you decided to admit the one thing that kept swirling around your mind, "I think I need to take a break from football. Not the training, I think that helps me, but games. The pressure that comes from each game feels like weight being added. Makes me feel like I'm being dragged further down into this hole."
"Okay, if that's what you feel you need then we can talk to the coaches or Ale and she can sort it out. I know the thought of telling anyone else what is going on is scary, but Ale or anyone else on the team aren't going to judge you or think any less of you because of it."
"I think maybe we can talk to Alexia, not tell her everything, but the jist of it."
"I'll be by your side when you're ready." ---
It had been a few weeks since the talk with Ingrid and since you made the decision to stop playing in games for a while. The only person who knew why was Alexia, it was clear that everyone else was worried, but until now you hadn't felt ready to tell them and thankfully they didn't push. 
There was still a long way to go, but things had been slowly getting better over the last few weeks. You had started seeing the team therapist multiple times a week and had restarted medication for the time being at least. Everything was starting to become clearer, you weren't as anxious all the time, you were becoming more willing to talk to Ingrid, to actually spend time with her without worrying about not being enough, and smiles and laughs were becoming more genuine when they did happened. 
The team had been amazing despite not knowing what was going on, they were as supportive and loving as ever. So you decided it was time to let them in a little bit. You squeezed Ingrid's hand, getting her attention as you spoke quietly, "Can you get their attention please? I know they're worried about me and I think I'm ready to tell them."
"Hey! Can we have your attention for a minute."
Once everyone's attention was on you, the anxiousness started to creep in, but with Ingrid's hand still firmly holding yours, you took a deep breath and spoke, "I know you've all be wondering why I've effectively benched my self the last couple of weeks and I want to be honest about it. I've uh I've been um struggling a lot mentally at the moment and I decided I needed a break. The pressure was too much, I couldn't handle it on top of everything else. So uh yeah, I don't want you guys to keep worrying about me."
It was quiet for a few seconds before many arms wrapped themselves around you, mumbled we love you's and we're proud of you's were heard as you sunk into the arms of your teammates. Surprisingly, Mapi was the first to pull away, cupping your cheeks as she spoke uncharacteristically softly, "You keep doing what you're doing and come back to us when you're ready. You always have is in your corner Y/n. We are so proud of you and we love you. If there's anything you ever need you can come to us okay?"
"Thank you Mapi. Thanks all of you." --- A few months had passed and you were finally feeling like yourself again. There were still hard days, you were pretty sure there always would be, but you were genuinely happy again most of the time. You found yourself more willing to open up to not just Ingrid, but some of the other girls you were closest to. It was safe to say your life was pretty well back on track, there was just one thing left to do and that was get back to football. You hadn't told anyone of your plans to start playing games again, you had just been put in the line up as a sub, but after conversations with the coaching staff you knew you were likely to come in at half time. 
When the line up came out, Alexia was the first to notice and speak up effectively getting everyone else's attention, "Y/n?"
"Yes Ale?"
"Is there anything you want to tell us?"
Ingrid looked at you confused as you shrugged trying to be as innocent as possible while knowing exactly what she was talking about. "Oh really? Well how about the small fact that your name is on the substitute list again?"
"Oh yeah. That is a thing I guess."
Smiles grew on everyone's faces as it clicked what was happening. Ingrid practically jumped on you repeating over and over how proud she was, kisses placed over your faces. The team joined not long after, everyone cheered and congratulated you. 
"Okay okay, you can let go of me now. Yes I finally feel ready to come back."
Once everyone had let you go, Alexia pulled you up into a hug. Since she found out about your struggles, Alexia had been amazing. She was always subtly checking in whether you were at training or not, she would pull you away when everything got too overwhelming and Ingrid was busy, making some excuse so know one else would know the truth. Alexia was always just there in a way that was subtle and comforting. "Well we're so so glad you're back. I'm so proud of you Y/n."
"Thank you Ale, for everything."
As soon as your foot hit the pitch, you felt the excitement, adrenaline and happiness that you thought may have been gone for good. You felt yourself falling in love with football all over again, it was like the final weight had fallen from your shoulders. There would always be bad days or even bad weeks, you knew that, but with Ingrid, your family and your new found coping mechanisms, you finally felt ready to face them. 
---
You arms wrapped around Ingrid as she chopped the vegetables, she briefly turned to kiss your cheek before going back to her task. "Hi Elskling, you played really well today. How did it feel?"
"Hey love. It felt incredible, I know I needed a break, but man did I miss it. Anyway, enough about me I have a surprise for you. I was originally going to give it to you after dinner, but I can't wait anymore. Here." You replied, placing an envelope on the counter in front of her. You could never express how thankful you were for everything Ingrid had done for you over the last few months, for sticking by your side through everything. So instead you had decided to start with a few days away in Venice. It was something she had wanted to do for a while and you decided to make it happen.
 Ingrid looked at you for a second before opening the envelope, a smile appearing as she looked at the tickets inside. "What's this?" 
"I know what you're going to say to this, but I am so thankful for everything you've done for me. Sure we've spent a lot of time together, but it hasn't been the quality, good time you deserve. So you and I are going to spend a few days alone in Venice in a couple of weeks when we have a bit of time off. Now I don't want to hear any buts or I didn't have to do this, just say you're excited and give me a kiss."
Ingrid cupped your cheeks, allowing you to press her against the counter as she pulled you in for a lingering kiss. Just as Ingrid went to pull away, you cupped the back of her neck pulling her back in as the kiss grew heated. You didn't want to say that you stopped enjoying Ingrid's kisses because that's impossible, it was just intimacy beyond cuddling between the two of you had dropped off to almost nothing the last few months. There were still short kisses here and there, but you couldn't get out of your head long enough to actually be present for anything more and that wasn't fair to Ingrid. Your lips moved along her jaw as a quite moan slipped past Ingrid's lips.
"Di-dinner," Ingrid moaned as your hand slipped under her shirt. 
Ingrid's legs wrapped around your waist as you walked back to the bedroom, "Dinner can wait."
230 notes · View notes
onlycosmere · 8 months ago
Text
Brandon Sanderson on the length of Wind and Truth
PumkinFunk:  I appreciate Brandon being self-aware about the fact that he will struggle immensely to keep the word counts down for this series.
KiwiKajitsu: If only he had a better editor
PumkinFunk:  I know this has become a common criticism since Rhythm of War after Moshe Feder retired, but I don't think it's true. One of his editors for his books is Devi Pillai, the head of Tor Publishing Group. The Secret Projects were edited in-house and generally were good. He has a lot of people giving him feedback, both in-house and outside.
jmcgit:  If Brandon wanted to work on revisions for an extra 6 months to refine and streamline the book, he could do it. This is a Brandon thing, not an editor thing. What was Brandon working on up until the last minute before he had to turn the book in? He was working on making the book bigger, squeezing in more content that he wanted to add. Brandon will tell anyone who asks that he likes to write, and dislikes revising.
When an author gets big enough, the publishers and editors lose their ability to rein in the author or make certain demands. Brandon will do what he wants, and if Tor doesn't like it, they can cancel his contract and Brandon can self-publish.
Brandon Sanderson: I realize it's difficult to see behind the veil of publishing, and much is opaque, but this isn't what I was doing during the last few months--I was cutting the book significantly. However, rough draft didn't include Interludes or Epigraphs, which is why it got longer after I cut it down. This draft lost over 60k words, but then I added in the interludes and epigraphs (along with a few key scenes I decided were needed.)
So, let's be clear about a few things. No editor has ever--in my life--cut my books down. It's not what they do. They largely haven't suggested it. Every editor, Moshe included, has always suggested things to change or add--they don't do much trimming. That's all my job, and always has been. Yes, there is a line edit, which does help trim--but I haven't stopped taking those suggestions, and usually go much, much further on a page-by-page case than they suggest.
I dislike revision, which is important for me to explain because I want people to understand that even for someone who loves their job, there are parts I don't like. But I DO it. I do A LOT of it. It's the part I have to force myself to do, but I am very good at it--and if you follow my stories about learning revision, you'll find that I very clearly explain that I didn't get published until I mastered the thing that was hardest for me. I consider my it, perhaps, my greatest strength as a writer--my ability to look at feed back and apply it to improve books.
If they get long, it's not because I've lost an editor. Moshe's strong suit was always diction, not trimming--and Gillian (who does that job now) is quite accomplished at both. She's Joe Abercrombie's editor.
I realize it's odd, because "to edit" means to trim, but an editor doesn't usually trim books--they offer suggestions for changes on the larger scope, and sometimes do a line edit pass to clarify.
Stormlight books are not big because I can't stop writing. You can pick any number of my shorter novels and see I'm quite capable of doing something at a normal book length. Stormlight books are big because that's the art I want to make--and they are not, and never have been, out of control. I am perfectly willing to accept that the story I want to tell has not appealed to some in the last installments! But don't blame my editors. This is an artistic choice of mine, and their job has never been to change the art. I get the same amount of editing now as I ever have--and I take largely the same amount of their feedback.
Note: don't take this as a direct condemnation of you or some of the things /u/KiwiKajitsu said above. It's more that I want to be very clear about my goals, and the process. My stance is one of explaining, not arguing against your opinions, as those are valid and perfectly reasonable ones to hold.
I realize that a long comment reply isn't the best way to prove I can be brief, but I sincerely think the trope of "He got big so he lost the ability to be edited" is not one that I fall into--I am, if anything, the most edited person at the industry, and see more criticism and feedback of my books prepublication than any other author. Editors and beta readers collectively wrote some 800k words of feedback for me over the last two years, which I incorporate. Not just the, "Add this" but also the "this sequence feels slow or unengaging." I am extremely passionate about listening to, and incorporating, editorial feedback.
It's fine to not like what I do. But don't blindly make the argument that I write it, kick it out the door, and don't pay attention to the revision process while ignoring editors.
jmcgit: Hey Brandon, I appreciate the insight! I regret that my post may have come off as if you carelessly "write and kick it out the door", as I know how hard you and your team have been working on the book over the past months and years, and how passionate you are about getting it right.
Brandon Sanderson: No problem and no offense taken! I just see a lot of confusion about these things.
I am edited far, far more now than when I was when I started and nobody cared. Though, admittedly, I think the most editorial scrutiny I ever got was on A Memory of Light a decade ago. I probably get less now, but I also have way more extensive beta reads.
It's just a complex process. And, you also ARE right in your initial post that I could go over it again and again, and some authors do. I'm middle of the road on the number of revisions I do, by my experience. Not as many as someone like Pat R. does. More than a lot of authors. I do not subscribe to the Heinline philosophy of only editing when required by contract that is very popular these days. (This philosophy believes that your initial artistic instinct will be right, and you shouldn't undermine it later on. I am not a fan, even if some people I respect follow this philosophy.)
Anyway, your initial post wasn't far off; I just wanted to offer some more context for this thread.
157 notes · View notes
hungermakesmonsters · 9 months ago
Text
(Once Bitten) Twice Shy
Chapter Eight
Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Mention of periods (don't worry, we're not doing Saltburn), smutty behaviour, use of toys. More sickening cuteness. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 
Word Count : 5k
A/N : It's not exactly a cliffhanger but I get the feeling people won't like where it ends... Oh also spoilers for Jane Eyre (but it's 170 years old so I'm assuming people know the twist?)
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN
MASTER LIST
Chapter Eight
The gentle touch of his fingers on your cheek woke you and, for a few seconds, you weren’t sure where you were. Billy was crouched in front of you, smiling softly. Your eyes threatened to close again, feeling exhausted and like all of it was just a dream.
“Hey,” he muttered softly, his fingers still tenderly caressing your cheek. “Are you okay?”
Finally, you managed to wake yourself up enough to realise that you weren’t dreaming, and that you’d fallen asleep on the sofa beneath the yellow blanket Billy had bought for you.
“I’m fine, just tired,” you told him, slowly sitting up.
Billy remained crouched in front of you, tenderly cupping your cheek and looking almost concerned.
“Did you draw too much blood again?”
“No, it's not that. I did that hours ago. I'm just really tired.”
“Just tired?” He pressed the back of his cold hand to your forehead, checking your temperature.
“And my head hurts a little.”
“When is, uh -” he hesitated, almost looking uncharacteristically embarrassed, “- when is your next period due?”
Your cheeks warmed with both the realisation and the fact that Billy had figured it out before you. That was why you felt so awful. “Soon, I think? I-I lost track of the days after I moved in,” you explained, “and I've never been very, uh… regular…”
Thankfully, Billy just nodded and sat himself beside you, an arm around you pulling you into his side.
“Do you need to go lay down?”
“No I - I want to spend time with you,” you told him, resting your head on his shoulder. “We didn't really get to finish talking last night…”
“Was there something else you wanted to say or ask?” Billy asked softly, shifting a little so you could get comfortable against him. 
You stayed silent for a few moments, thinking over all of the things you wanted to ask, wondering what you had the right to ask. “What causes it? What makes you feel like everything is... too much? I’ve only ever seen a vampire lose control from hunger...”
“Sometimes it’s hunger,” he offered reluctantly, “other times it’s just... I don’t know. Even before I was turned, I was never any good at controlling my emotions. And, now, I feel like I’m constantly fighting myself. When I’m with you, I feel like I’m drowning. Everything about you; your scent, the taste of your blood, the way your heart races... it’s a lot to try and ignore.”
Although the words were spoken to you, about you, you knew better than to read too much into them. It was the constant proximity, he probably felt that way around any human after enough time. It wasn’t because he felt anything for you.
“That sounds exhausting.” 
“It is,” he admitted, waiting for a beat before asking; “why did you apologise? I lost control but you apologised.”
“Because I -” you stopped yourself before the lie managed to leave your lips. It hadn’t been your fault, as difficult as it was for you to accept that fact, you knew it was true. “Because I’ve always been made to feel like it’s my fault when bad things happen to me. The night we met, you asked me what I was running from, and that’s part of it; I was raised to feel ashamed and believe I deserved everything bad that happened to me.”
You heard him inhale sharply before he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He was silent a moment before speaking again.
“Who left you?” He asked softly. You lifted your head, frowning. “Last night when you asked why I was leaving you it just… you sounded hurt, like someone had left you before…”
“My sister,” you answered, “she left home when she was eighteen and my parents disowned her because of it. She said she'd come back for me, but she never did.”
“Why did she leave?”
“My parents wanted her to marry a guy she didn’t want to marry.”
“Is that why you left?” He asked and immediately seemed to regret it when your gaze dropped. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”
A moment later, you snuggled back into his side and closed your eyes. “How long until you have to go to work?”
“I can stay another twenty minutes,” he told you softly, slipping his arm around you. He was silent for a few minutes, before letting out a slow exhale. “I’m not going to be able to see you for a few days, it’s not safe for me to be around you while you’re...”
He didn’t have to say it for you to understand and, as much as you wanted to argue with him, you knew it wouldn’t be fair to try and force the issue. Now that you had some idea of how he felt and how much of a struggle it was for him to be around you sometimes, you knew Billy needed space.
“It’s okay, I understand.”
You stayed that way for another twenty-five minutes until you gently reminded Billy that he was going to be late for work. He didn’t seem to want to leave you and it made your heart ache to think about why that might be. Though, rationally, you understood that it wasn’t you; he was just tired. You were finally starting to understand just how difficult and exhausting it was for him just to get through a day.
He gave you a soft kiss and told you that he’d see you again soon.
The next morning when you woke up cramping and feeling terrible, until you found that he’d left a gift basket in your kitchen, filled with things you might need over the coming days; painkillers, chocolates, a new smart-watch with a cycle tracking app, a heating-pad, various toiletries and a large teddy bear with a note pinned to his chest.
I thought you and Bill the Beagle might want some company.
Take care of yourself. I’ll see you soon.
B.
Butterflies filled your stomach at the thoughtfulness of the gifts and, later that afternoon, when you left blood for him, you couldn’t resist leaving him a note of your own.
Thank you for your considerate gifts. William the Bear is a wonderful addition to my growing stuffie collection and the chocolates were lovely. Hope you have a good night at work.
xoxo
The next day you felt even worse but, again, you were pleasantly surprised when you managed to drag yourself to the kitchen to get breakfast and some coffee. There was another box of chocolates and another note waiting for you.
William is a terrible name for a bear. I didn’t expect you to get through the chocolates so quickly, remind me to stock up next month. I hope you’ve not been watching Black Sails without me.
Take care
B.
And, of course - of course - you had to reply, leaving your note with his blood again.
I happen to like the name William. I think it suits him. He looks like a William. I hope you’re not trying to shame me for enjoying the chocolates, truffles and caramels are my weakness. Don’t worry, I’ve not been watching anything without you, I’ve been reading. You were right, Jane Eyre was a very apt choice.
xoxo
His notes became your reason to get up in the morning, though they were a bittersweet reminder of his noticeable absence in your life. It filled you with a strange yearning and an uncomfortable sadness to think about him out there on his own. But that was a silly thought. You didn’t know anything about his life outside of the penthouse, about his work or his friends, maybe he wasn’t even noticing your absence.
(Or maybe he felt it just as much as you did.)
Okay, I have to ask; what does a William look like? Of course I’d never shame you for enjoying the chocolates, but now you’ve told me your weakness I might have to use it to my advantage. I hope you’re enjoying Jane Eyre more than you enjoyed Dorian Gray.
I hope you’re not feeling too bad. I miss our talks.
B.
Your heart stuttered as you read and reread those four little words; I miss our talks. He missed you. Maybe not quite in the same way that you were missing him but, still, it made you long for him even more.
Well, in my experience Williams tend to be cute and cuddly, even though they look a little dark and brooding at first glance. Oh no! Please don’t use my weakness for chocolate truffles against me!!! (The extra exclamation marks are so you read that in a sarcastic tone.) Yes, I think I like Jane Eyre more than Dorian Gray - Mr Rochester kind of reminds me of you.
I’m feeling a bit better today, I should be fine in a couple of days. I miss spending time with you too. I hope you’re not too lonely without me around.
xoxo
You doodled a little picture of the teddy bear he’d given you on the corner of the note but gave him a grumpy looking face and a tag that read ‘my name is William’. 
There was a strange feeling of embarrassment when you left the note and you almost changed your mind about it halfway back to your room, and you spent the rest of the evening wondering if it was a little too much.
So, the next morning, you felt a little reluctant to go into the kitchen, and had to take a deep breath before reading his note.
Dark and brooding?? I think you might have to elaborate, but I’ll let you save that for when I see you next. I hope that there will come a point in the book where Mr Rochester doesn’t remind you of me quite so much (I don’t know where you’re up to and I don’t want to spoil it).
I’m glad you’re feeling better. The penthouse isn’t the same without you. It’s strange, you’ve only been here a couple of months yet and it already feels empty without you. I miss you.
B.
P.S. Is the doodle supposed to be me or the stuffie?
It felt like your head was spinning as you read, reread, and read again. 
He missed you.
Billy missed you.
You spent half the day writing and rewriting your note to him, in one attempt confessing your feelings, in another acting completely blaise about his confession. Nothing you came up with felt right but the thought of not replying seemed worse.
I see what you mean about Mr Rochester... though I don’t know if I can completely rule out the possibility of you having a strange woman tucked away somewhere in the penthouse. It would certainly explain where all of the chocolates have been going.
I miss you too. I know what you mean, I feel the same way, like I’ve been here longer. But I suppose that’s how things feel when you get close to someone. Hope to see you tomorrow.
xoxo
P.S. I’ll never tell. An artist never reveals her secrets.
There was no end to your relief the next morning when you woke up finally feeling better, knowing that you’d be able to see Billy again. Part of you expected not to find a note, but there it was, waiting for you on your kitchen table, just like the others had been.
I can think of a less mysterious explanation for the disappearance of your chocolates, little hummingbird.
I’m not used to missing people. I’m not used to being close to them either. Some days I feel like my whole life has turned upside down since I met you. I can’t wait to see you again.
B.
P.S. I think it’s magicians that never reveal their secrets, not artists.
Again, he left you searching for deeper meaning in every word, your heart aching for a man who seemed so lonely and alone, a man who didn’t deserve that life at all.
After breakfast you showered and washed your hair, wanting to look your best when you saw him again.
Slowly but surely, over the course of the day, your nerves started to eat away at you; what were you going to say to him? Were you going to pretend that the notes hadn’t happened and that their contents was just idle talk to help the other feel less alone?
You couldn’t sit still as you waited, counting down the hours before sunset, perched on the edge of the sofa and watching his door. The moment it started to open, you were on your feet.
Before he had the chance to even realise that you were there, you’d cleared the distance between you, throwing your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his chest. Billy let out a breath but, for the life of you, you couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of relief or simply because you were squeezing the air from his lungs.
“Hey,” he muttered, his arm slipping around you and holding you almost as tight as you were holding him.
A minute or two passed, neither of you moving or saying anything, until he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and your grip on him started to loosen. You didn’t pull away, but gave yourself enough space to look up at him, smiling shyly as your cheeks started to warm.
“Hi.”
“Hi, hummingbird.”
Neither of you seemed to know what to do or where you were supposed to go from there so, again, you both fell silent, still holding each other. Finally, you dared to reach for him, placing your hand on his cheek. His eyes closed and he leaned into your touch, and butterflies began to swarm in your stomach. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you lifted onto your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his.
It was a soft, chaste kiss, nothing at all compared to some of the kisses that you’d shared, but you felt his lips pull into a smile against yours before his eyes finally opened again.
“I missed you,” he admitted in little more than a whisper. 
His hand moved to rest on your neck and you found yourself glad of his cold touch after what seemed like so long without it.
“I missed you too,” you confessed, “I - I missed you more than I probably should have.”
If Billy understood what you were trying to tell him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he just shook his head and smiled before kissing you again.
You sank against him letting him deepen the kiss and turn it into something else, something new. Normally when he kissed you it felt explosive and desperate, like he was laying claim to you, but this kiss was tender and filled with longing, like he was savouring being with you again. It stole the breath from your lungs.
“I missed you,” he muttered again.
“You already said that.”
“I know, I just -” his head shook, and he let out a huffed laugh, “- this has felt like one of the longest weeks of my life.”
“Have you been okay? Was it -” you hesitated, not sure you wanted to ask the question, “- was it easier without me around?”
Billy pulled back a little, frowning. “Why would it be easier?”
“The other night, you said you feel like you’re drowning when you’re with me,” you shrugged a little, letting your gaze drop for a moment.  
Before the notes, you’d assumed that everyone made him feel that way, that it was just part of being a vampire for him. But, now, after his last note and after that kiss, part of you longed for him to admit that it was more, that it was you, that he felt something for you, that he cared.
“I was wrong,” he told you, waiting until you looked up again to continue, “I feel like I’m drowning without you.” 
“Oh.” Whatever you’d expected, it hadn’t been that.
“It’s a lot. I know it’s a lot -” 
“No,” you shook your head, “no, it’s not.”
“I wish I could’ve met you in another life. I wish it wasn’t like this.”
The words caused your chest to ache, understand what he was saying and why because you felt the same way; the situation was a mess and all either of you could do was make the best of it.
There was more you could say - more you wanted to say - but it didn’t feel like the right time, and it wasn’t fair for you to try and push anything when you had every intention of leaving him once you’d finished your year. So, instead, you pressed yourself against him and hugged him tight.
Once you’d managed to pull away from each other, you spent the next hour sitting with him on the sofa, talking while he drank, trading gentle touches and kisses until he needed to leave. You followed him to the elevator, not sure if he was keeping hold of your hand or if it was the other way around. 
It took a couple of weeks for things to start to return to some sort of normal between you.
Karen noticed the first time she saw you, mentioning that you seemed distracted as you walked through Central Park together (thankfully with no sign of Madani in sight), but she didn’t bring it up until you were sitting together a week later, having lunch in a little coffee shop.
“Is everything alright with you and Billy?” She asked, deciding to just go for it.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” you answered. And it was fine. You were happy. You just could stop thinking about what he’d said to you and how you wished that things could be just a little bit different so you could both be happy.
“I know Billy’s my friend and you don’t really know me all that well, but you can talk to me if something’s bothering you. Or if he’s done something to bother you.”
There was something in her voice, something knowing that you really didn’t like. But how could she know what was going on with you and Billy, when you didn’t even know yourself?
“Everything’s fine, honestly. It’s great, actually. We’ve been really getting on lately; we’ve been hanging out talking about books and I’ve been making him watch Black Sail on Netflix,” you told her.
Karen nodded, though it didn’t look like she believed you, but she let it drop, leaving you with the sneaking suspicion that she knew a little more about the way Billy was than she wanted to let on.
Your quiet evenings with Billy slowly started to become a little more physical again, though neither of you seemed in a rush to try and push for sex again. Instead, most evenings he’d end up with his head between your thighs, or you’d slip your hand into his pants while you made out. And, even though you found yourself longing for more, you didn’t want to push him. No, you wanted to take things slowly, wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t get overwhelmed again before you took that next step.
Time seemed to fly by and it wasn’t long before the whole penthouse was being turned upside down in anticipation of Billy’s big party; live music, caterers, decorators and, of course, more blood than you felt comfortable seeing in one place. The whole place was transformed over the course of three days and, when the night finally came, you felt almost sick with nerves.
Even Billy had a strange energy about him, checking and double checking every little thing, including a security team from his company whose presence he seemed reluctant to explain to you. You watched from the sofa as he led them around the apartment, explaining where he wanted them and which areas of the penthouse were off-limits. He introduced you to one of them, a human man called Curtis who would be spending the night near the door to your quarters if you needed any help during the night (and, again, Billy didn’t explain what that meant).
A couple of hours before the guests were due to arrive, you went to shower and draw blood before doing your hair and makeup, and getting changed into your dress and shoes. For a few minutes you found yourself staring at your reflection, hoping to find some of the confidence you’d had that night in the dressing room with Billy.
When you stepped out into the penthouse, it only took a moment for his eyes to find you, his jaw threatening to drop as he took in the sight of you. His appearance had the same effect on you; his well tailored tux had you biting your lip.
“Wow, Russo, you really know how to pick them,” Curtis called across the penthouse, earning himself a withering look from Billy and causing your cheeks to heat.
Billy made his way towards you, not bothering to hide the way his eyes were taking in every inch of you. When he reached you, he placed a hand on your hip and kissed your cheek.
“I got you a present,” he told you, using his hand to start guiding you towards the library, pausing momentarily to tell Curtis and his team that they could go take a break before the party started.
Your heart was hammering in your chest as he led you into the library and towards the seldom used desk by the window. Waiting for you were three boxes, each beautifully wrapped in silver paper and tied with black ribbon. Without thought, you found yourself gripping Billy’s arm as your legs threatened to turn to jello beneath you.
He smiled softly, picking up the first box and handing it to you.
“Open it,” he instructed, managing to sound as excited as you felt about this whole exchange.
It felt wrong to destroy the immaculate wrapping, so you took your time, carefully untying the ribbon and peeling open the paper to get at the box. You removed the lid and there, in amongst black tissue paper was an ornate black and silver mask.
“It’s for the party tonight,” he told you when you looked at him for clarification, “we wear the masks until midnight and then take them off. It’s supposed to symbolise vampires being seen by society, but really it’s just an excuse to have fun while no one knows who you are.”
You laughed, head shaking. “Thank you, it’s beautiful.”
But he didn’t give you time to linger, gently taking the box and mask from your hand before offering you the next present, seeming to get more eager with each passing second. He was practically vibrating with excitement.
Your breath caught as you opened the second box. It was a beautiful choker style necklace with diamanté detailing - at least, you assumed that it was diamanté because you couldn’t even start to imagine how much it would have cost if they were real diamonds. For a few seconds you were lost for words.
“Here, let me,” he offered, pulling the necklace from the box before you even had the chance to answer him. Billy stepped behind you, gently draping it around your neck and fastening it for you.
Your fingers immediately reached up to touch it; it felt a little heavy around your neck and you’d never had a choker style necklace before, but the feel of it would be a constant reminder of Billy and you loved that. 
“Thank you, Billy,” you finally managed, turning and wrapping your arms around him before pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“There’s one more.” He reached for the last present but seemed a little more reluctant to hand it to you. 
And once you’d opened it, you understood why.
“Oh...” said somewhere between shock and confusion. 
You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, especially not after the mask and the choker, but a new sex toy certainly wasn’t it. Your cheeks heated as you looked at the box, trying to make sense of it, the words discreet and remote play only confused you more.
“I want you to wear this for the party,” he told you, a hint of nervousness in his voice, “if you want to, I mean. If it’s too much, I get it. I just - I thought we could have some fun. And there’s going to be so many people, I guess I want to know you’ll spend the night thinking about me...”
Your cheeks continued to burn, part horrified by the notion, but a much larger part couldn’t help but find the idea interesting, arousing even. And, after everything that had happened between you, part of you was still longing for more.
“You want me to spend the night thinking about you?” You asked quietly.
“More than anything,” he answered in little more than a whisper, like he knew it was something he shouldn’t say.
It felt like your heart leapt into your throat for a few seconds and you struggled to swallow around it. All you could think about was that night a couple of weeks ago, how he told you it felt like he was drowning when he wasn’t with you, and you knew that you couldn’t say no to him. (You didn’t want to say no to him.)
“Okay,” you finally answered, “how do I...?”
“Let me,” he offered, perhaps a little too eagerly, taking the box from your hand, muttering something about how he’d cleaned it and charged it ready before wrapping it.
You bit your lip, watching as he pulled the purple silicone toy out of the box, knowing that he could hear your heart pounding. Then he kissed you, slipping his tongue between your lips and enjoying you for a few moments. When he pulled back he began to trace your lips with the tip of the toy before slipping it into your mouth, causing your cheeks to burn hotter.
You watched him suck his fingers, leaving them glistening with saliva before dropping to his knees and slipping them beneath your dress and into your panties. His free hand nudged your knee and you parted your trembling legs a little further while his fingers stirred between your folds, wetting you before slowly slipping into you.
You moaned softly as his fingers slowly started to pump inside you, twisting and bending, easily finding that special spot. 
Your hands gripped his shoulders, feeling like your legs were going to give out. Another soft moan escaped you when he looked up at you, holding your gaze as his fingers filled you, over and over. You clenched around him as he licked his lips, knowing that he was imagining the taste of your arousal on his tongue.
“You can come whenever you need to,” he told you, smiling up at you like he was in awe of you.
“Billy...” you moaned, your voice muffled by the toy in your mouth, hating how close you were to falling apart.
Your walls clenched and tightened around his fingers again, but you were already so wet that you couldn’t hold onto him or make him slow. There was something about all of this that seemed so obscene, so dirty, and it just made you want it ever more. His fingers hit that sweet spot one more time and it was enough to push you over the edge. Your legs started to tremble and your thighs pressed together, trying to keep his fingers inside you.
And, all the while, Billy smiled up at you.
A needy whine slipped out when he pulled away his hand, but you soon fell silent when he took the toy from your mouth. Your eyes fixed on the bookshelf behind Billy as he inserted the toy, suddenly feeling embarrassed despite everything you’d just let him do. Once he was done, he straightened your panties and made sure your dress was perfect.
Shifting your weight between your legs, you tried to get used to the feeling of the toy while Billy stood up and took out his phone.
“Let’s give it a little test,” he said with an almost mischievous grin on his lips that caused you thighs to clench. Something told you he was going to enjoy this. A lot.
A sudden whimper was pulled from you as the toy started to vibrate.
Billy’s grin grew as his finger swiped on his phone, causing the vibrations to intensify. As good as it felt, a mixture of shame and concern threatened to ruin the moment.
“What?” Billy asked, stopping the vibrations the moment he noticed your discomfort. “If it’s too much, you don’t have to do this.”
“I want to,” you answered shyly, a little embarrassed by just how much you wanted to, “It’s just... what if someone realises?”
He offered a soft smile, placing a hand on your cheek. 
“They won’t,” he told you with confidence. “It’ll be too noisy for anyone to hear it, and you’ll be good; you won’t come until we’re alone together and I give you permission.”
His thumb tenderly caressed your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you, his tongue slipping between your lips and wiping away any misgivings you might have had. You wanted to do this. You wanted to give Billy the comfort of knowing that you were thinking about him all night. And you wanted to do it for yourself too. You’d wanted to have new experiences and this was definitely new for you.
“Come on,” he said, slipping his hand into yours, “let’s go have a glass of wine and wait for the guests to arrive. It’s going to be a long night...”
Chapter Nine
End Note : So, originally, this chapter and the party were going all be one chapter, but then I got carried away with the cute notes between reader and Billy. That means next week will be a whole chapter of party shenanigans.
As always, thanks for reading/commenting/liking/reblogging, hope you're enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it! Have a great weekend!
Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.
Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock
@snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad
@vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17
@sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim
@countryday @weepingwitchofthewest @broadwaybabe18 @bunnygirlwriter876 @oliviaewl
@rosey1981 @benbarnesprettygurl @rachlovesactors @robertthehoover @ladyblacky
@goldenbeskar @mydarlingnana
154 notes · View notes
goodgirlsdoithisway · 4 months ago
Text
The danger of friends and family.
Coming into my place as a woman has been difficult. I've been a feminist most of my life, believing I need to be free and do as I please. I surrounded myself with like-minded people, and kept pushing on even though I was suffering. These people had me convinced that I was unhappy because women have been "oppressed" by the patriarchy, and I just needed to rise above.
Here's the problem with this train of thought. Not everyone is capable or has the correct tools to survive alone in this world. Some people need structure and guidance to live. Most women fall into this category. Sure, we can do it, but it's incredibly hard, incredibly stressful, and it's a lifelong investment to work hard instead of smart.
Then, I looked into tradwife material. I started looking at how happy these women were. Sure, you occasionally see the sad ones living this life, but they are just full of resistance, like I was. These women made life look fun. What girl doesn't want to have a life where they don't have to worry about money, or politics, or drama? No internal struggles, just the calm acceptance of giving yourself to something bigger. A man.
My friends and family all called me out on this, saying I'm being red pilled. I told them I'm still committed to diversity and I love everybody, and I know I have the option to chase whatever dream I want, and that this was my dream. Not a single one believed in me. A few stopped talking to me altogether. I mean, I'm fucking trans for fucks sake. It's not like accepting my place under men means I'm all of a sudden A Trump supporter. No thank you, although I do hope to see some things revolving around women to pass, either way. We shouldn't be allowed to vote, hold jobs, or go anywhere without a man. Hell, Afghanistan just passed a law where no woman is allowed to speak in public, or to another woman at all. This would be great. No more toxicity spreading like wildfire, hurting our true place.
It's crazy how, when you go against the grain, you get demonized. It took its toll. I started thinking it was just a stupid fantasy I was grabbing onto because I wasn't working hard enough to make my life mine.
Then, with those few friends gone now, I started to realize I was feeling great in those moments I was embodying serving men. And without those extra comments, I was starting to be able to ignore the others saying those things. And as I cut more people off, I felt so much better. I felt deep inside that this was the right path. I knew that serving men was what I was created to do. It was like a certainty.
So I started reading more about it, embodying it, envisioning it. I set those feminist views aside and really devoted myself...I'm never going back.
Friends are toxic to a trad relationship. Family are toxic to a trad relationship. Even other trad wives can be turned, and in turn, turn you. Feminism is powerful because it promises unattainable visions of freedom. Friends and family can exacerbate that and poison your mind. When you devote yourself to this lifestyle, which I believe all women should, the adjustment is rough because there's so much propaganda out there, manipulating you into giving up the biggest, best, most fulfilling life a woman can have, a life of dedicated servitude.
It would be perfect to have a man who lives off grid with no electricity, no phone, no outside communication. To be taken by him, to his home, never allowed to leave or have visitors so that I may focus solely on Him would be the perfect life. Imagine forgetting people exist outside of Him. The only person you'll ever see again is the one you serve. No jealous friends to try to take you away or poison your mind. No family to pretend they know what's best for you. No. Only Him.
49 notes · View notes
bekolxeram · 2 months ago
Text
Unfortunately, I don't have the means to donate this time, (Stupid expensive health issues🙄) but I'd still like to express my gratitude to Bucktommy and this fandom for the occasion.
Not that my life has ever been sunshine and rainbows, but 2024 has been particularly difficult for me. I started the year the sickest I've been for years, then one of my uncles passed away in February. He was 88. He had been slowly succumbing to dementia for quite some time, so almost everyone agreed a cardiac arrest was a blessing in disguise.
I wasn't close with him, but my mother was, and naturally, I had to spend pretty much the entire March accompanying her to all sorts of traditional ceremonies for the dead. All my uncle's children, my cousins, came back from abroad as well. They enjoyed hanging out with me back when I was a toddler, but then I slowly grew up into this weird, moody kid of few words, and we kind of drifted apart from there.
Family reunions were never awkward despite my gloomy existence though, they had their fun aunt who never ran out of things to talk about. To them, my mother's the life of the party and an exemplary woman, who went through tragedies in life but still manages to come out stronger on the other side, who unfortunately had to re-enter the workforce later in life to support her physically ill husband and her mentally ill teenage daughter.
What they don't know, is that while she's a fun aunt, she's not a fun mother. She was dealing with the stress and frustration so well because she always had an outlet at home. Someone she had total ownership over, officialized by a piece of birth certificate. Someone she could do whatever she'd like to, emotionally and physically, because in my culture, it's simply an alternative, maybe outdated method of parenting, not a crime.
I've had time to process my messy relationship with my mother, I've come to (mostly) accept it for what it is. Watching my cousins all rushing over to my mother with open arms to console her, watching my cousins' children playing around, having fun with her, while my existence was barely acknowledged, was actually more triggering than I expected. It acted as a sobering reminding that not only do I have merely a handful of friends since I left church, I in fact don't have any family left either. They're all my mother's family, not mine.
It was probably the most lonely and isolating experience in my life. It's like I was trapped inside of my head, my head that was gradually turning into a bottomless pit of nothingness.
Then Tommy Kinard drove through cross town traffic just to clear the air in person. He expressed how much he wanted to be a part of a family. Then he took his shot and got the boy in the end.
I just felt... understood. Watching Bucktommy's story play out on screen gave me some rare moments of joy and much needed hope. I felt like if Tommy could find happiness later in life, maybe it wasn't too late for me either.
If you've had experience with depression, you'd know how sometimes getting out of bed, brushing your teeth feels like an uphill battle already. Motivation is precious and hard to come by. I was so motivated creatively by Bucktommy and people in the fandom who resonated with the story just like me, that I wrote series of posts analyzing every scene in S7, I learned how to make gifs to illustrate the humor I found in all of us, I figured out how to edit video especially for my vision of a Brad-nado, I even wrote and posted my first fanfic ever.
And I just love how we refuse to give up hope, even after the breakup. We cried, we whined, then we doubled our effort writing fix-it fics, continuing their story on our own terms. Now, we even manage to raise thousands of dollars for charities in 24 hours in the name of love.
Sorry for the wall of text all about myself, I hope I don't come across as a self-absorbed jerk. I always thought I would never make it to 30, it started feeling like a real possibility in March. What happened instead was that my 30th birthday came and go because I was too busy screaming about Buck batting his eyelashes at Tommy when he was receiving a medal.
I'm sitting here, typing this out, looking back at my 2024 at the end of the year, only because Bucktommy happened and I had the pleasure to cross path with you all. I know, it's stupid, it's just a TV show, but I can't really imagine how my life would turn out if I never had Bucktommy, where I would be right, or even if I would still be at all.
So, thank you, for making life worth living for me again.
41 notes · View notes
lolaandthens0me · 7 months ago
Note
Question for you: Do you ever worry about giving this kink too much importance in your life?
I ask as someone contemplating a big move that, ultimately, is about being closer to other ABDLs.
There’s other upsides besides that, but were I born a vanilla fella, I’d probably be sticking closer to home.
It feels both exciting and scary at the same time. Does it sound crazy?
Hello Anon and thank you for this really amazing question!
As someone whose life is very kink-heavy, I periodically check in with myself and ask this question: am I finding a balanced life? There are times when my days and even weeks and very kink-oriented and then it will ebb and I'll be focused on other things like training, family, or career path stuff. As with hobbies or friend groups or lots of other things that hold our attention in life, kink too can ebb and flow. That being said, I think it's important to check in with ourselves to make sure that we're finding a healthy balance in all things we're doing.
For me, that balance includes having a close group of friends outside of kink, as well as a couple of hobbies/activities that I do regularly outside of kink and my kink circles. These close friends are open, empathetic and curious people that are striving to live an authentic life, just as I am. They know that I'm kinky and that I make content, but that's all they know about that side of me. It's important for me to be surrounded by people that I can be myself with; I don't feel that I have to hide myself around. I've also found a hobby that I've really invested some time in where I can just be plain-old-*insert my name here* in. It's a good escape from my everyday life, just as any hobby is from work life or family life or adulting life. My work life and everyday life just happen to be kink-centered at the moment. And I love it. If I find that I'm losing myself or I'm not happy and fulfilled in this life anymore, then it will be time to make a change.
As for the second part of your question, I don't think it sounds crazy at all. My advice is to make sure that this move makes sense for you financially, that you're in a stable, good place where you're not leaving behind some responsibilities or important stuff like family/school, etc that really acquire your attention there at the moment, and that there are other cool opportunities and reasons to move where you're moving to outside of kink.
I am so freaking happy and thriving now that I've moved to a place where I can be surrounded by my kink circle and in the same city as my partner/Daddy. It was absolutely the right decision for me. Living near "home"/where I grew up, it was really difficult for me to feel like I had the space to truly grow and be my more authentic self. I felt held back by the person I was/used to be and making a physical move helped me transition into this more real, truth-living, glorious being I'm becoming. My roommate is in the ABDL community, and this allows me to wear diapers 24/7 without needing to hide or be uncomfortable about it. The people I see most often and hangout/party with are all either ABDL's or in the broader kink BDSM realm. They are so fun, great communicators, responsible adults, and open people who really see and care about one another. Being able to live out our authentic kink selves within this group has helped each of us find self-acceptance and self-love. And that is invaluable.
I wish you the best and all of the good vibes as you move forward into whichever path truly allows you to be and love yourself. And if that path includes moving to an ABDL mecca, then hell yes!!
111 notes · View notes
oliversrarebooks · 5 months ago
Text
The Rare Bookseller Part 68: Oliver's Speakeasy
Previous > Masterlist > Next
tw: mind control, blood drinking
October 1925
"You have to relax a bit, Oliver," said Roger. "If you're holding your breath while I lace your corset, it will be dreadfully uncomfortable."
Oliver let out his breath and tried to calm his nerves. "I'm not used to corsets. It's not anything I thought I'd ever have to wear."
"That's how I felt as well, but vampires do love their low-necked ballgowns on men and women alike. It's another thing I've become accustomed to -- out of all the adjustments that come with being a vampire's thrall, dresses are minor."
"That's true enough. I can only hope I look acceptable in it."
"Given how your master looks at you, I believe he would think you're fetching in a flour sack." He began to lace the corset tight. "You're quite devoted to pleasing your master, aren't you?"
"I find that I can't help myself. Isn't that the effect of the enthrallment?"
"One effect, certainly. Although after twenty years, I hardly know where the enthrallment ends and I begin."
Oliver nodded. He didn't need twenty years to feel that way. He already felt as though he hardly remembered himself before enthrallment. "You seem very comfortable with your master."
"Comfortable, yes, you could say that. It's my duty to take care of him, and it's an easier life if you keep a sense of humor about it. I suspect I've become fond of him apart from the enthrallment. And I know my master appreciates my efforts." He finished lacing the corset and put a hand on Oliver's head. "Your master appreciates you as well, I'm sure of it."
"I can only hope so."
Roger helped him put the gown on, a turn-of-the-century style done in midnight blue with embroidered roses, one tailored to his exact measurements. He then fastened a delicate gold chain adorned with sapphires around his bare neck. Oliver stared into the mirror. He was dressed like a princess or a wealthy heiress, looking nothing like himself. It was a stark reminder of how much he'd been changed since the night of his capture.
It had only been weeks, and yet his former life was already receding away from him, never to return.
Oliver then assisted Roger in donning his own gown, an ostentatious red number that had very clearly been chosen by Roger's master and not Roger himself, and they made their way up the stairs to their masters' chamber to help them prepare as well.
Alexander and Fitz were lounging on the bed when they entered, but they both stood up, wide-eyed, at the sight of the thralls. Fitz whistled. "Fantastic. Lex, are you sure you want Oliver to go out like that? He's going to turn every head in the place."
"Let heads turn. If they touch my thrall, they'll pay the price," said Lex with startling fierceness. "It's no different from when I went out with you."
Fitz laughed. "Somehow, I don't think Oliver will end up grievously insulting and humiliating a vampire in front of an entire ballroom."
"It's almost a pity," said Alexander thoughtfully. "Come here, Oliver, I wish to take a better look at you."
Oliver stepped closer to his master, who took him by the shoulders and swept over him with an appraising eye. He tilted Oliver this way and that, and took his chin in his hand to meet his gaze. Oliver felt just like that fateful night in the auction house, when Alexander had decided to make his purchase, when Oliver first felt his hunger and desire. Even though his master had taken blood the night before, the undercurrent of hunger and desire was still pressing down on him.
"Master, hold still while I fasten your cummerbund," said Roger, who had started to assist Fitz while Oliver was losing himself in his master. "It's difficult to fasten when you squirm."
"You should be helping me with my attire as well," said Alexander, running his fingers down the side of Oliver's face.
"Yes, sir." Oliver felt as if he were in a dream as he began to help his master prepare, slipping the neatly pressed coat on his shoulders and tying a neat bow around his neck.
Just as the vampires were finishing their preparations, the doorbell buzzed, and Oliver ran down the stairs to answer, careful not to trip in his embroidered slippers. He flung the door open to Miss Lily, dressed in a floral pink frock and tall pink heels, the sort of fashionable thing Oliver saw in department store windows. Behind her, Miriam, also fashionably dressed, poked her head out shyly.
"Oh, Oliver, you look positively dashing! This dress suits you so well," said Miss Lily, cradling his chin in her hands. "Where are your masters? They had better be ready, because I don't want to leave the carriage waiting long."
"Well, well, well, if it isn't my bad luck charm," said Fitz, hanging over the balcony.
"Oh, Fitz, dear, thank goodness you're here. Lex hasn't cracked so much as a smile since you last left, even with this delightful thrall at his beck and call. You'd better have relieved him of his malaise."
"You want me to relieve Lex of his malaise?" said Fitz, sauntering down the stairs. "You might as well ask me to remove the water from the ocean."
"I do see your point," said Miss Lily. She leaned in towards him and whispered conspiratorially. "Has he told you about his plan?"
"His daft plan to get all of us tortured? Naturally. And I support it, of course, because I'm as daft as he is."
Miss Lily sighed. "Of course you do. I expected nothing less."
"My ears are burning. I think you must be talking about me." Lex was walking down the stairs now, with Roger following behind.
"Oh, Roger!" Miss Lily went to him and squeezed him, a fondly dazed smile appearing on the thrall's face. "I do hope you've been well."
"Never better, Miss Lily," he said dreamily. Oliver wondered if Roger had been enthralled by Miss Lily as well. And on that note…
"You look lovely, Miriam," he said politely to the thrall, who was clinging to her madam and looking perhaps a bit uneasy at all the commotion.
Her face lit up in a smile. "Oh, thank you, Oliver. You look very handsome as well!"
Miss Lily clapped her hands. "Now that we've got everyone here, let's all pile into the carriage, shall we?"
Next thing Oliver knew, he was crammed in next to Alexander in the carriage, which was only just barely large enough to hold all six people.
"I've been looking forward to this," said Fitz, shamelessly snuggled up to Alexander's other side. "It's been ages since we've been out to the Tiger's Eye."
"Lex and I were there not so long ago," said Miss Lily. "If Lex gets as drunk tonight as he was then, you're going to have to help me carry him home, Fitz."
"Oh, with pleasure."
"If I might ask, sirs…" said Oliver, fidgeting with his dress hem, "What sort of place is the Tiger's Eye?"
"Why, it's a social club for vampires and their thralls. One of the most popular in the city," said Miss Lily. "Everyone who is everyone puts in an appearance now and then, even recluses like your master, and we all bring our favorite thralls, all dressed to the nines. There's entertainment and stiff drinks and even h'ors doeuvres for the thralls. You'll just love it."
Oliver nodded, far less certain than Miss Lily that he would love it. He'd never frequented bars and clubs, finding them loud and awkward at best. At least he wouldn't be going there alone, but could stay by his master's side.
"Make sure you stay close to me," said Alexander, as though he read Oliver's mind. "Don't entertain any vampires who show an interest in you."
"Yes, sir."
They stepped out of the carriage in front of an unassuming restaurant that seemed as ordinary as any other. Clearly human patrons could be seen through the window, enjoying Italian dishes. "This is the Tiger's Eye, sir?" asked Oliver.
"It's in the basement. The restaurant is simply a front run by the same vampire who owns the club." Alexander pulled him close as they walked to the entrance. "It offers cover, and brings in human money and human blood."
"I see, sir."
A mouth-watering scent filled his nose as the group stood before the maitre'd's station. Miss Lily moved a flap on her dress to reveal a ruby pin, and the maitre'd waved them to the back. They all descended a rickety spiral staircase, the sound of music and laughter growing louder.
The Tiger's Eye club was much larger than the restaurant upstairs. All of the tables were low, with the patrons sitting on piles of cushions. While some of the crowd were wearing contemporary fashions, like Miss Lily and Fitz, a good number of them were dressed in formalwear from decades gone by, much like Oliver's ballgown. More alarmingly, some of the patrons were dressed in very little, as though they were burlesque dancers. It didn't take long for him to realize that these were thralls, kneeling on the cushions and gazing up at their vampiric masters with adoration.
There was a stage at the opposite end of the club where a jazz quartet was playing. Waitstaff flitted among the tables, and like many of the thralls, their outfits were absolutely scandalous. Their glassy eyes and sleepwalking mannerisms indicated that they were heavily enthralled as well, and there were prominent bite scars on their necks and shoulders. In one of the back corners, a well-dressed vampire was drinking from a waitress.
With Alexander, it was sometimes easy for Oliver to forget what sort of situation he was in, and feel like he was perhaps an ordinary servant to an eccentric rich man instead of thrall to a vampire. His current surroundings made him intensely aware of his situation, surrounded by potentially hostile vampires and semi-conscious human slaves. Alexander, of course, wasn't distressed at all, taking in the scene with a smile on his face.
All vampires are dangerous -- that's what Roger had told him.
Nonetheless, Alexander was by far Oliver's greatest chance at safety, and so he shamelessly clung to his master as they walked through the club. He could feel the eyes of leering vampires on him and see their hungry grins. His master's grip tightened. It seemed like an eternity before they arrived at a table with a "reserved" placard on it.
The vampires arranged the cushions and made themselves comfortable, Alexander beckoning Oliver close and pulling him halfway into his lap. Next to them, Fitz flopped over into Roger's lap as the latter sighed.
"The music's good tonight. Who's playing?" Fitz asked.
"They're regulars here. The trumpet player is an older vampire -- I've trained up a few of his thralls, and he has a great sense of humor. The others are all fledglings, more or less…"
Oliver found he couldn't really concentrate on what Lily was saying over the din of the crowd, deafened by the sound of his own heartbeat and blood rushing through his ears.
"Say there, I can't help but notice what an excellent thrall you've brought with you."
Oliver nearly jumped out of his skin. The vampire addressing Lex was a larger man in a checkered suit.
"Thank you," said Alexander with a hint of threat. "He's my most treasured possession." And Oliver's heart twisted to hear himself described that way.
"Where do you get a fine thrall like that? I'm new to the area, just moved from down south, and I'm looking for some fresh blood."
"Oh, then I'm the one you want to talk to," Miss Lily interjected. "I handle conditioning for all of the finest high-end auctions and private sales in the city. I can't promise you'll find one as good as Oliver here, as thralls like him are in short supply, but I'm sure I could help you find something to your taste."
Oliver felt Alexander's hold on him relax as the vampire in the checkered suit started to happily chatter to Miss Lily about thrall sales. He noticed that, in addition to Miriam sitting in her lap, Miss Lily was now surrounded by several other adoring thralls, draped contentedly against her shoulders and over her legs.
"Who are…?"
"The thralls Miss Lily conditions are often drawn to her," said Alexander, toying with Oliver's hair. "This happens whenever we go to a place openly frequented by vampires."
"Good evening, sirs."
Oliver looked up to see a waitress dressed in frills that barely covered her most private areas, her eyes dull and glassy. He blushed and looked away.
"We have many top quality spirits available, as well as an assortment of blood on tap, including rare specialties. If there's anything I can fetch for you, esteemed sirs, it would be my pleasure to serve."
Alexander didn't seem the slightest bit put off by the waitress's plight. "I'll have a dry red, whatever's recommended."
"Certainly, sir."
"A light white wine for me," said Miss Lily.
"I'll take a sidecar," added Fitz. "And whatever beer you have on tap for my thrall."
"Right away, sirs."
"I can order something for you when she returns with the wine," said Alexander, and Oliver realized that the waitress had, of course, only asked the vampires what they wanted.
Oliver looked up again now that the waitress had walked away. "I don't drink, sir, but if I could have some tea, that would --" His eyes went wide and his breath caught in his throat. No, it couldn't be. But it certainly was.
While Oliver had been busy trying not to stare at the waitress, another thrall had arrived to cuddle Miss Lily. She was wearing a highly fashionable teal evening dress with elaborate gray embroidery and fringe, her neck and wrists were dripping with gold, and her red hair was done up in a curled bob. She looked nothing at all like the last time Oliver had seen her, but Oliver knew he'd never forget that face, her fear burned into his mind.
"Emily!"
Previous > Masterlist > Next
Next week: Emily!
Oliver last saw Emily all the way back in the auction house.
@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin
@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist
@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @und3ad-mutt
@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl
@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada
@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia
@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi
@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot
@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme
@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14
@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe @demetercabingreen-thumb @the-broken-pen
@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter @basica11ywhumped @anoontjecanush
85 notes · View notes
gustavsbrainneuron · 7 months ago
Text
‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Jealousy.
Tumblr media
‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎2011 Bill Kaulitz × female reader.
Warnings: smut and a little bit of angst, unprotected sex, p in v, dacryphilia, choking, cheating, Bill being an alpha and "punishing" f!reader.
Author's note: i don't even consider this a fic, it's mpre of a "drabble" thing. It's the shortest thing i've ever writtwn and I absolutEly HATED it. 🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️ Sorry if there are any mistakes, english isn't my first language. AND THANKS FOR THE 80 FOLLOWERS I LOVW YALL SM OMFG ^_^ !!1!!1
Tumblr media
It all started a few days ago, when I drank a lot at a party and decided that I had enough for that night. When I went out into the dark and cold streets, walking through the alleys while looking for my boyfriend, one of the boys from my college appeared out of nowhere; It was a boy I didn't know much, but he looked like Bill, even though he wasn't him - Maybe I was a little drunk, like, really drunk. We started talking, I said I was looking for Bill and I don't know if he was drunk too, I just know that he approached me and kissed me, and I didn't try to pull away for any second during the kiss, I just accepted being kissed by that "stranger".
The next day, obviously, rumors started to spread at the college, someone said that they had seen me kissing some other boy who wasn't Bill. My boyfriend even asked me about it, but I denied it and denied it, with a lot of guilt and shame; but I was too drunk, that's why I ended up kissing that guy, it could have been worse, right?
Between me and that boy it wasn't worse, but between me and Bill everything was worse. Someone had taken a photo of me kissing that boy, how would I defend myself from that? It was simple, I just didn't try to defend myself. And that's why I was in this situation now, in Bill's room.
Tumblr media
His body was pressed on top of mine, my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, while he held my hands above my head, squeezing them with a certain force.
"You." Thrust. "Are." Thrust. "My fucking girlfriend!" Thrust.
"Why did you kiss another guy, huh?" He questioned, slamming against me, eliciting a loud whimper from me that echoed throughout the room, still without a response from my lips that only knew how to whimper and release small incoherent words. He looked at my face with anger and jealousy and I looked back at him with desire - okay, maybe that's a little sick, but it doesn't change the fact that he's hotter when he looks at me like that, like he had me in the palm of his hand and the bastard really had me.
When I didn't answered his question, Bill released one of my large hands and brought my face closer to his, the hand that was free came to my neck, putting pressure there; light but enough for me to still breathe with slight difficult. "Your silence only makes me angrier." He commented, his tone of voice being very stern, not gentle at all. My free hand went to his wrist, squeezing it there weakly as I closed my eyes, my eyelids closing almost automatically due to the pleasure - which seemed illegal to feel in this situation, but was inevitable. "Answer me! Why?" He demanded, watching my expression contort in pleasure, which brought a wicked smile to his pierced lips, making him squeeze my neck tighter.
My brain was clouded, I couldn't think of existing words to say to him. I wanted to apologize, I wanted to explain myself but it seemed like no words would leave my lips without an insistent whine, almost non-existent due to the pressure of his hand on my neck.
"M'sorry.." I managed to speak quickly before my own whimper interrupted me, my body trembling slightly against the tall figure that was pounding on top of me constantly. "Sorry!.. I'm so..ngh! Sorry!" I spoke more clearly, feeling his hand move away from my neck and return to my hand, placing it above my head and squeezing both of my hands.
"You don't feel sorry at all, Y/n." He said through gritted teeth and with a powerful thrust, he drives himself deeper into my sensitive folds, his cock twitching inside me, making me cry out in pleasure and pain at the same time, my hands tightening around his. "You're going to be my good little whore and you will remember this lesson whenever your little head thinks of another boy besides me." He spoke in a dark promise, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room as the bed creaked underneath us with each thrust he made.
"I- aah! I'm really sorry... please, please, I'm sorry!" I begged for forgiveness and for mercy, my lips letting out a long cry, my eyelids tightly closed as my legs shook; falling limply into the bed, letting him have more access to my body. Tears formed beneath my eyelids, everything was very intense, from his words to the way he fucked me.
Bill grunted at my attempts to apologize so desperately, letting go of my hands; which immediately went to his broad shoulders. He moved his big hands down to my waist, the sheet dragging along with his hands. His long, thin fingers squeezed my waist, marking what he thought was only his. "I should have left you when I found out you were an unfaithful slut." He answered, not accepting my apologies, speaking with a tone that demonstrated a certain vulnerability, even though his voice was still firm. Suddenly, he just stopped pounding into me, pulling out until only his tip remained inside me as he looked down, observing my reddened face. "Make me believe you're truly sorry, Y/n." He used his hands that were on my waist to his advantage, lifting my waist slightly so he could aim directly at that sensitive point inside me. Entering me suddenly; the fat tip pressing at a sweet spot that made me let out a loud and weak cry, my hands desperately going towards his back, taking out all the desire I felt - with each scratch I made on his hot and slightly sweaty skin. "Do you feel this? This is me claiming you. Showing you that you're mine alone." He said more to himself than to me, letting out a few grunts against the way I was clenching around him. Wanting to tease me, he started grinding his tip against that spot inside me in slow circles with his hips, making me see stars beneath my eyelids.
"Bill!" I whimpered loudly and shakily, opening my already teary eyes to look at him. My waist tried to seek more movement, moving to feel more of Bill; trying to make him move more or do something that would stop him from rubbing against that spot.
"What was that?" He questioned, pressing more of his tip against my sensitive spot, smiling when he saw tears running down my face. "Look at yourself, Y/n. See how wrecked you are from my cock?" He mocked, giving a low laugh as he saw how affected I was, he started to move his waist suddenly, his dick punching that spot hard, pressing his cock even deeper inside me - if that was even possible.
My eyes only rolled back in response, my hands went down to his waist, trying to stop the aggressive movements against that spot but failing miserably. The room was filled with his grunts, my loud moans, the bed creaking and suddenly everything seemed to turn white. My mind couldn't even think anything as I just let out one last long and loud, pathetic whine, cumming as my body shook.
Bill's face went down to my neck, nibbling the warm, soft skin, marking me with hickeys as he waited for the waves of pleasure to pass through my body, still giving slow but deep thrusts inside me. "You still haven't convinced me that you regret what you did. I think we'll stay here for a few hours." He smiled against my neck, feeling my breathing quicken beneath his kisses and hickeys.
Now I knew that we were going to have a long night and that I would probably have to think twice before drinking too much.
Tumblr media
ohlala 🤤
Tumblr media
im sorry i just wanted to put something here 🙁🙁
123 notes · View notes
artsymeeshee · 6 months ago
Note
It isn't much of an ask, as more of a thank you.
Your heavier toned sea grunk comic with Stan discussing his thoughts of suicide has always held a place in my heart.
I started into the fandom around January 2022, and was pretty introverted getting into it. At that time, I was around 13 years into my undiagnosed depression, and failed one attempt to end it in that span. My introverted nature and being so warped kept me from wanting to engage with others from the fandom. I figured I was an outsider with more issues than what could be handled, and no one would be there for me(and I wouldn't blame them).
I didn't think that around July 2022, people would begin reaching out to me, understanding me, and accepting me. I found kindred spirits and my family. And in September, my best friend found me. She is the Ford to my Stan. She has stuck by me and loved me when I have been unlovable and it wasn't required. And we bonded over our favorite guys of course. She got me into Tumblr, and this was one of the first comics that I saw, and it made me bawl. It felt like talking to my best friend face to face, even 500 miles apart.
Then, shifting into December 17, 2023, I tried again to go, standing in the freezing night on the edge of the local bridge, seeing the dark, and waiting to embrace it. And everything that I loved flooded me in that darkness: My best friend, all my friends I had made, my family, and this comic. Stan felt that way, but he held on, because he got Ford back. It was part of why I stepped down, and just sat for awhile, and took the time to finally get help. Those feelings are now distant and rare when I reached out for proper help.
Even now, I'm struggling, but not wanting to be in that place again. Just feeling like I'm inadequate as a spouse, but we are both working through it. It has been difficult the last few weeks, and this comic emerges again today, and flooded me all over again with the reminder that Stan chose to live, even if it was hell for a long time, and I can do it too.
So, if you haven't fallen asleep on me yet, I just wanted to thank you for making this comic. And for all of them. It resonates with me deeply, and frequently more than you'll ever know, and at points, has kept me here.
Thank you 👉👈
🥺🥺 Oh wow. I don't know what to really say but thank you for opening up and telling your story. I know it can be really hard to open up like that. It makes me happy to hear that things have gotten a lot better, even if it's not 100%.
That comic was a spur of the moment kind of thing because I was originally going to make just a vent post of myself but then something about wanting to get out particular thoughts I've had through Stan seemed like a better approach. Perhaps this could come as a bit of surprise to some but as much art of Ford I've done, Stan is actually the favorite of the two.
I kind of thought that comic was going to be my last at the time. My mind spiraled pretty bad during that time last year and figured that it wasn't worth trying to say how I've been and just leave because I genuinely believed I was better off no longer being part of the Fandom. I still think I do on some days but seeing messages like these or even small encouraging ones is enough to think I am still worthy enough to stay.
❤️
107 notes · View notes
drdemonprince · 1 year ago
Note
Can we really expand our window of tolerance as autistic people? I’ve been working on that kind of thing for so long and I can’t tell if I’ve made any genuine progress or if I’ve just unconsciously doubled down on masking :(
We can! But our expanded distress tolerance can't come out of nowhere. Something has to give. So for example, for me, I have way fewer sensory issues these days than I used to have, by a wide margin, and I have significantly less social anxiety and don't need much social recharge time on the level that I used to. I have more distress tolerance for sensory input and for social stressors now than I ever have before -- but this has required lifestyle changes and unmasking in order to get there. Let me break down both these improvements and how they happened:
Even as recently as a year ago, I would have terrible sensory meltdowns on a regular basis. But I haven't had a single sensory meltdown in months, maybe not even a single one for the entirety of 2023 so far? And that's because I have a) cut out caffeine, dramatically reducing my physiological stress levels, b) cut back on some workplace stress by reducing my commitments, c) stopped taking on additional projects outside of work that I didn't want to do and that only caused me stress (workshops and talks), and d) began working from home far more consistently, and made myself a wfh office that is more comfortable.
Now I operate from a really solid base of sensory comfort most days and I'm not overloaded with information or overwhelmed with obligations. This means I am far more tolerant of screaming people on the bus, the upstairs toddler slamming her feet on the floor, ambulances blaring by, noisy concerts, people bumping into me at the bar, etc.
I also am, for the first time in my life, clear-headed enough to recognize when I am starting to experience sensory distress, and can intentionally put on sunglasses or pop in ear plugs or remove myself from an upsetting situation more quickly. I had to experience what being relaxed and not overstimulated felt like, and get accustomed to living that way, in order to recognize subtler signs that I was feeling shitty and take steps to address those small annoyances before they exploded. I can handle a lot "more" in an intentional way now because I built my life to allow "less." My overall distress tolerance has still expanded -- but it's because I stopped masking and began attending to my sensory and stress regulation needs.
For the social piece, my distress tolerance has also gone up due to unmasking. If I was still motivated by passing as NT or being socially acceptable all the time, I'd be so overwhelmed being around people and worn down by every interaction. I also wouldnt be able to advocate for myself. But in the past few years I've become more and more openly weird and outspoken in my needs and true feelings, and I've recognized that the right people actually love me more when I do so and show up for me, and so being honest or even difficult to deal with is not really a threat.
This means I just don't experience much distress being honest or difficult to deal with anymore. I really can tolerate the discomfort of telling someone they're wrong or that I'm hurt without freaking out about being hurt or abandoned, because I've had a lot of good experiences with it and because I enjoy being unmasked so deeply that I just can't put my personality back in a bottle.
Masking lowers distress tolerance because it frays your nerves with stress and wears you out and bars you from ever getting to attend to and regulate your discomfort when there are signs of it happening. In order to increase your distress tolerance, you actually have to learn to better honor your discomfort early, and preventatively, so that you don't bubble over into a meltdown after days or weeks of ignoring your needs.
I think some people think distress tolerance is about becoming more tough, but it's quite the opposite. We become more resilient by getting better at recognizing and attending to our hurts.
378 notes · View notes
diakittyau · 2 months ago
Text
Theme of Kuchizuke's story.
Tumblr media
Hello. ( ̄▽ ̄)ノ I wanted to talk about the themes, personal experiences and fears I put into the first part of Deluding Moonlight AU, Kuchizuke.
First of,
! spoiler warning for the animation ! Please watch it before reading.
And second, the topics that I'm going to cover, as well as some scenes from animation, may be unpleasant to some people. I'll be covering: abuse, unhealthy relationships, depression and death.
With all that out of the way, let's begin.
Here's a fact: I'm not into shipping, even though the story of Deluding Moonlight is heavily tied to one character having an infatuation for another. I don't care about fanon romanization, kissing stuff or anything like that. I have favorite duos, such as Sonic & Amy, Knuckles & Rouge, Shadow & Maria, none of which I see in the romantic relationships and just enjoy their canonical dynamics. Some of them are funny, some comforting, I don't need to see them kissing or something. So if that's the case, how did I get to making this story? At first the idea of vampire Rouge just randomly came to mind when I listened to the song "BUCK-TICK — Kuchizuke". I thought it might be an interesting idea to make an animation of it. But since the song is heavily implied of love, obsession and passion, I had to think of a plot line that can accompany it. When it comes to characters, for me it's always important to keep their initial characterizations without significantly changing it. I probably should add that I'm only into Japanese Sonic, so I'm staying true to their original Japanese characterizations. Not including anything from the American side, as comics, tv shows and even dubs. And yes, there's no official Sonic couples (I'm talking games only) and I'm not going into fanon. What should I do? Well, there is one thing I can work with, and that is one-sided love. And thankfully, Rouge has it. On multiple occasions she's shown to have interest in Knuckles, flirting and mocking him. And as I said, I enjoy their fun dynamic.
Tumblr media
So now on to building up the story. We're talking vampires, so deception and no mutual love were main points that I focused on. And that's where my personal stuff comes to play. The first one is:
Fear of abusive relationships.
As a child born in Russia, in a typical fashion I saw the horrors of dysfunctional family. I never got physical abuse myself from it, but I've been neglected by one parent and saw the suffering of another. Since the early childhood I didn't have normal ideas about love and relationships, because I simply didn't saw any. My psyche was affected, and I live with the trauma and fear ever since. I've never been in a relationship. All my life I could only analyze it by looking at others, which gave me an idea about what love is and that entering into a relationship with someone was a very important step. This cannot be neglected and done haphazardly. This is a union of two people, and understanding, compromise, and consideration of personal interests are important in it. Otherwise things can end up pretty badly.
Isn't that right?
Tumblr media
And that's the part of me that's been reflected on Knuckles, but more on that later. First, we need to understand what parts of me were reflected on Rouge, and it was:
Depression.
I was in a depressive state for at least seven years. While depressive episodes have occasionally faded away, they reached their peak two years ago. That's when I succumbed to seclusion, intensive self-flagellating, imposter syndrome, feelings of rejection and uselessness. And for the first time I felt desperate for love. I have had a difficult time understanding my own feelings before, but back them it just got 200 times worse. I didn’t understand whether I felt love for the first time or was it something else completely? Did I really want to love, or did I just want someone to pity and comfort me? Do I really have friends and people I can trust, and do they accept me or just use me? I didn't know myself anymore. It's been hard and long way of figuring myself out, and only the huge possibility that I had autism explained everything that had happened to me throughout my life. That's when I accepted myself and was able to climb out of this deep hole that seemed bottomless. There's also another thing that really bothers me since my early years:
The fear of time passing.
I don't like changes, I don't like growing old and fading, I don't want to lose something or someone because their time has come. I fear death, future, the unknown. I never wanted my video-game characters to die and my own stories have always been stuck at one particular time without much moving forward. That's why I have always had a deep connection with vampires. That and the aesthetic, of course. That's should be all the main point, now let's see how all this falls on the characters. Starting with Knuckles.
Tumblr media
Now I should mention, that out of all the Sonic character I can relate to Knuckles the most. His worldview, his social skills, his dedication to his life's work, his short-temper and so forth. And this is perfect, since it is so much easier for me to stay true to his character. Back to the personal stuff: several times I was in situations where some people wanted to date me. The thing was, I hadn't felt any attraction to any of these people, it was simply beyond my understanding. Not to mention I didn't know them for a long time, but after a few short conversations it seemed like they were seriously considering me their girlfriend. I treated them quite indulgently and friendly at first, but very soon I caught myself thinking that they just irritate me, and my attitude towards them was already beginning to border on hate. I just wanted them to leave me alone with their imposition of relationships. That personal experience pretty much resonates with Knuckles' role in Kuchizuke. He's been forced to fall in love with Rouge by her dark magic, and the latter didn't even took his own feeling into consideration. And his personal boundaries were not taken into account either.
Tumblr media
To Rouge, Knuckles just been the possession. This approach to getting his love only led to hatred and ended up in the tragedy.
Tumblr media
I kept Rouge's mysterious nature with her own goals and ways to achieve them. Back to the personal stuff once more: as I established before, I have a hard time understanding my own feelings, and at the peak of my depression I didn’t know how to deal with negative emotions at all. Perhaps that's why I felt the need for a soulmate for the first time. But was it love? Now it seems to me more that my special interest simply fell on a certain person who filled the voids in my soul and brightened up the endless stream of negative thoughts. Even so, I find my past self quite selfish, because I only wanted my own happiness with that person, even though the feeling obviously weren't mutual. However, it is also worth clarifying that I didn't have enough courage or social skills even to make any moves, most of the times simply living in my own world of illusions. But when I got out of depression, this not-love of mine simply vanished. So, this is were the theme comes from. Obsession and the desire to be with someone who can fill your mental emptiness. Of course, regardless of the opinion of this very person. The romanticized scenes of a "dream date" were mear delusion, having nothing to do with the real feelings of a person she loved.
Tumblr media
I will explore Rouge's character more in the future, so keep in mind some of the stuff I said.
In conclusion.
Through this tragic tale of one-sided love I really wanted to say something simple yet very important:
Love is not a fairy tale.
and relationships are a very serious step for both parties, where understanding, compromises and trust are important. Love in this story is a complete self—deception and manipulation, with selfish motives and a sad outcome.
Tumblr media
29 notes · View notes
yuurivoice · 6 months ago
Note
since you love to write, does your job ever feel like actual work? Kinda like that saying “if you love your job, you’ll never work a day of your life.” Kinda question.
also, how much free time do you normally have?
It felt like actual work from pretty early on. The moment I crossed over from doing it for funsies to sometimes taking commissions I didn't really feel strongly about for money, it was work.
I've had to drag my ass into the booth and record on days when I couldn't even take care of my basic needs because of ADHD struggles, and that sure felt like work.
I've had to write like absolute dogshit and just accept it because I had deadlines and people waiting on me. That felt like work.
I've had to spend hours breaking down different shots needed for visual projects, like a caveman painting on a wall for a renaissance artist to reference. That definitely felt like work.
I've had to deal with community moderation, personal betrayals of trust, harassment, goddamn pr crises, tax nightmares, and shipping hundreds of orders by hand. That was work.
That old cliche of if you love what you do, you'll never work a day in your life is a crock of shit. But all of that being said, even though it is work, and even though it can be really difficult sometimes?
Wouldn't trade it for the world. There is no other calling for me, my heart is not satisfied if I am not telling stories, and for some reason the universe decided that this was the path forward. I didn't plan on it. I never loved voice acting, but I learned to. I wish there was less bullshit over the years that robbed me of my joy. I wish I wasn't fighting my brain for so much of the time I've been doing this.
But the good will always outweigh the bad.
It's a dream fulfilled. I never needed or wanted to be some sort of massive sensation, or have broad renown or appeal. I didn't need to become a best selling author, or create a hit video game, or do anything like that. I am happy that I've found even a small group of people who love to get lost in my worlds, or spend time with my characters, or hear them get railed in pumpkin patches.
I get to experience the magic of creating something I didn't know was within me. Again and again. Projects like BitterSweet, Shattered, and Echoes of Evalas are precious to me because of the wondrous feeling creating those stories gives me. They could all flop, and I'd do it anyway.
I was creating art when no one was ever there to listen or watch. In that regard, it's never been work. It is a function of my existence. I was made, raised, and shaped to tell stories. It's the one thing I can do. At a table of friends, an audience of hundreds, or on long drives by myself. It's like breathing. It just happens.
Being able to call it work is a privilege. I'm thrilled that I've got the chance to work. I'm happy that I even have the opportunity to have days where I have to push myself. Because it has given me more than I've ever thought it could. I was on food stamps living with family under constant threat of getting kicked out. I was lonely, isolated, and scared of the world. I was considered lazy.
Finding my lane, getting traction, and thriving was something I considered out of reach. I was ready to tap out and accept that I just wasn't quite right for life. Like maybe I just didn't have all the right parts. I was okay with it, even. I was tired.
So yeah. It's work. But I spent a long time desperate to find work I was suited for, and with a lot of recent life changes I've removed many of those points of friction that would make it tough to work. So I'm thrilled.
And that, my friends, is what happens when you ask a professional yapper if they love yapping. 😂
As for free time, it's hard to say. So much of what I do being my own boss and shit, plus creative stuff just constantly churning in my brain, I struggle to clearly define what is and is not "free time". I basically have to be on call. At any given moment something might need my attention, or creativity comes knocking. It's hard to completely disconnect.
I've done a good job of getting into the office about four times a week. That has helped me find some sort of balance, but even recent writing I've done was on my laptop at my little breakfast nook having coffee.
I think the big thing is, I can create my free time whenever I need or want to.
Anywho, this is why you don't open Tumblr when you wake up to pee in the middle of the night because then you spent 30 minutes staring at your phone writing a whole ass essay. I'm gonna go get out of bed and make something awesome now. 💖
51 notes · View notes
umbreonkin197 · 7 months ago
Text
Journal of a Questioning Otherkin (Entry 9)
Today I heard the word sanism, and curious about it I looked it up. All at once a lot of things clicked into place in my head. Much like how growing up in a heavily religious environment caused me to harbor an immense amount of internalized homophobia towards myself that took years to work through and learn to love myself in my queerness, I have realized that the environment I grew up in has caused me to internalize so many sanist beliefs about myself that have affected my ability to truly accept my alterhuman self.
Growing up as an undiagnosed ADHD/autistic child, I was constantly held to unrealistic standards of behavior, pushed well past my sensory limits, and scolded heavily for not being able to handle it. I won't go into too much detail, but it's no wonder I developed severe depression and anxiety.
For every single one of these issues, I never received the help I needed. Every time I would go to my parents and say that "I think there's something wrong with me and I need help", I would get shot down. Nobody would consider that I really needed help and that I wasn't just being lazy. I would get yelled at for stupid things out of my control and have a full autistic meltdown, and then I would be yelled at and scolded for crying about something that "wasn't even a big problem and I was just being dramatic and childish".
I'll spare the excess details, but I was the one who discovered ADHD and later autism. I was the one who had to pressure my parents for weeks, months, years even to actually look into these issues, to actually get me to a therapist, to actually consider proper medication for my ADHD/Depression/Anxiety, to actually accept that these were really issues plaguing me and that I wasn't just being stubborn or childish or dramatic or doing it for attention.
But here's the key. I only ever received help once I was able to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that these things were truly affecting me. I had to fully understand it and be able to explain it well enough that they could not brush it away.
Now looking back to my therianthropy with this context in mind, it's no wonder that I've had such a difficult time accepting things about myself. That intrinsic protective instinct, that need to have to prove myself to be accepted as valid, that's never left.
Yet therianthropy/alterhumanity has no cut and dry definitions on what is and isn't a part of it like ADHD. It's a subjective identity experience. My brain hates this. How can I prove to anyone that my feelings and suffering here are valid? How can I ever accept myself if I can't understand it? Because of the trauma I've been through, it doesn't feel safe, even though I'm in a different position in life now.
I've come to realise that I've internalized all the sanist things that have been said to me over the years, and I've become my own worst enemy when it has come to figuring out my alterhuman identity. It's been quite a lot to process, but it does make sense.
Tumblr media
Anyways, I've been struggling quite a bit recently with questioning some new thereotypes and the like, and fighting internal battles with my sanism/impostor syndrome, but I'll write about that another time. For now, thank you to all who were willing to listen to me.
- Bre
36 notes · View notes