#queue do not yield

[just0nemorepage]

lottis_buecherwelt_ @ instagram

[margielalalove]

“How do you find me so easily? Because you are the brightest star,” he said, a murmur over my lips. “And the brightest star needs the darkest night.”

C.C. Peñaranda, The Stars Are Dying (Nytefall, #1)

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

What are you batty about this autumn?

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

Find my list for Read Palestine Week here.

"Publishers for Palestine is a global collective of publishers, and others who work in publishing around the world, who stand for justice, freedom of expression, and the power of the written word.

Join us for an international #ReadPalestine week, starting Wednesday, November 29, on the International Day of Solidarity with the Palestinian People. During this week, we encourage people around the world to read fiction and poetry by Palestinian and Palestinian diaspora authors, as well as nonfiction about Palestinian history, politics, arts, culture, and life, as well as books about organizing, resistance, and solidarity for a Free Palestine. 

To encourage the spread of #ReadPalestine, signatories of the Publishers for Palestine letter of solidarity have organized a Free Palestine Reading List. Participating publishers are offering one of their e-book titles for free download from November 29 to December 5; all titles are available through this website. There are currently more than thirty books on the list in nine languages, including a half-dozen award winners, with more coming in.

We also encourage readers to post on social media about their favorite Palestine books, to quote from their favorite authors, and to make learning more about Palestine an act of solidarity, using the hashtags #ReadPalestine, #LirelaPalestine, #اقرأ_فلسطين, and more. Participating indie bookstores and libraries are invited to join us by creating Read Palestine displays, social media posts, and other forms of creative solidarity."

[not-poignant]

I feel like Temsen would be rather scary when he gets angry; even more so than Dr Gary.

Temsen has a body count from when he's gotten angry, for a start!And he's had the experience of being shot multiple times with a tranq gun to take him down, so he knows exactly what that feels like.

Honestly though, I think they're both pretty terrifying once they snap into a true rage state. Temsen has said before that he believes Gary would win in a fight between them, simply because Gary fights dirty, and I do think one of the reasons Temsen often gives Gary very strong 'submission' signals in difficult conversations is because he's actually very uncertain of who would win in a real altercation between them.

Like, Temsen is often making a strategic choice around Gary to not pull rank, and Gary almost never offers submission signals to Temsen.

Which means in the grand scheme of things, no matter what we believe, Temsen believes Gary would be more scary if he got angry, lol.

[anipgarden]

Ani Reviews: Hellstrip Gardening

Alrighty homies here's another Informal Book Review. This is the second time I've done a book review, but I hope this is helpful!

[Photo ID: a book, titled "Hellstrip Gardening: Create a paradise between the sidewalk and the curb" by Evelyn J. Hadden (Author of Beautiful No-Mow Yards) With photographs by Joshua McCullough, Foreword by Lauren Springer Ogden]

Out of the seven books I checked out from the library this round, I picked this one second because not only was I looking forward to the read, but so were some friends in my gardening server! Its one of, if not the longest book in the stack--the main contents are 279 pages total--but its definitely well worth the read! You can see where I live blogged it here.

The inspiration and energy in this book is potent! By the time I finished reading the foreword and the introduction, I was already dreaming up new gardening projects to work on next spring, and that energy stayed up all the way until the end! It definitely helps that the photos in this book are absolutely gorgeous! Seriously, even if you aren't wanting to make a front yard garden, I'd recommend this book for cool garden photos alone! This is another one of those books that's way more relevant if you're the home owner, or a landscaper (or just got permission from your parents to do some front yard gardening), but even still so much of the advice in this book is great for just about any kind of gardening as well! Between beautiful photos of front yard gardens others have already done, tons of encouragement and advice on how to handle anything from trees to poor soils to outdated laws and HOA boards, and a deluge of plant recommendations for different grow zones and purposes, it's definitely a valuable resource!

After the introduction, this book is separated into four major sections referred to as Parts. There's Inspirations, Situations, Creation, and Curbside-Worthy Plants. If you're looking for ideas on what a converted yard can look like, Inspirations and Creation is the place to go. If you're unsure how to do so with any specific circumstances you may be facing, Situations is the section for you. So on and so forth. All in all, between the gorgeous photos, and the amazing content, this was a fairly quick read for me!

I will say, this is a book aimed directly for gardeners in the US. While some of the general advice might be good for people abroad, at the end of the day its a book written in an American perspective for gardeners in America. That being said, it focuses on America as a whole--so if you're hoping for a dedicated section on how to do what you want in your state specifically, you might get lucky, you might get unlucky. I know the example garden for my state wasn't anything I'd be excited about, meanwhile there's three sample gardens for Minnesota (two in Minneapolis) and there's only twelve sample gardens in the book! Also, if you're looking for a book to tell you to only ever use native plants in your garden, this isn't the one--the book will eagerly encourage you use native plants, and will implore you to remove any invasive plants that may be on your property, but is also more than welcome to recommending well behaved non-native plants. Let it be known that I don't think this is a problem at all! But if you're picky about that, I'm just letting that be known.

Oh and also one final note. The book is called Hellstrip Gardening, and it does talk about hellstrips, but it doesn't only talk about hellstrips. A good chunk of the example gardens don't even have hellstrips. This book talks plenty about full yard transformation! Which I find fantastic and enlightening! If you're looking for a book that's only about hellstrips, though, this isn't it.

All in all, this is an amazing book with amazing photos, 10/10 could probably show to someone to get them to see the light of front yard gardens.

[sorcererofsolitude]

Yoko: Guys! I can't find Divina anywhere. You gotta help me find her, it's important!

Enid: Where'd you see her last?

Yoko, smirking: Just after dinner when I had her for dessert.

Wednesday rolls her eyes, returning to her book.

Enid: TMI, vamps. I have her scent, I can just follow it!

The scent trail leads back to their dorm, but no one seems to be there.

Enid: That's weird, I could have sworn she'd be in here.

Yoko: Only one way to be sure...

Yoko pulls out her phone and plays the Friends theme song. A distict series of claps is heard from under the bed when it gets to that part of the song.

Yoko: HA! I got you!

Divina, making no move to get out from under the bed: It took you 42 minutes to find me. That's a new record.

Yoko, pumping her fist in triumph: You know what that means??

Divina: A romantic picnic!

Yoko, at the same time: Strip poker!

...

Yoko: Oh, uh... y-yeah, your thing is good, too.

Divina, grinning: I don't see why we can't do both.

Enid, eyes widening: Oookay, I think that's our queue to leave.

Wednesday, mumbling to herself: Perhaps I'll take up their strange form of hide and seek as well, if this is the result it yields.

Enid: Wens, I think you forget how good my hearing is sometimes...

Wednesday froze. Perhaps the challenge should be to see how quickly an Addams can turn from grey to red.

[bogkeep]

forgive me father for i have once again listened to a podcast episode discussing a topic that makes me go >:( and now i must write a blog post about it.

the topic was, i guess Learned Helplessness although they never really used that term. the whole talk got very Kids These Days-y in a way that just. does not sit well with me, very generalizing and victim-blamey. but it IS a complicated topic, because there are many things i DO agree with:

- learning to sit with discomfort, inconvenience and conflict is a good and necessary skill

- anti-intellectualism is bad, and challenging yourself can be very rewarding

- people do have a certain amount of agency and responsibility for their actions

- being in community is good and hyperindividualism is not so good

but oh... how do people argue for how everyone should be constantly challenging themselves and be responsible for everything in their lives, in the same breath as decrying self care (or "self care" with the quotation marks) as hyperindividualist?

is this a los angeles thing. do all podcasters live in LA or something

do i have a different definition of community??????

one of my fundamental philosophies that i've carried with me through life is that not everyone can do everything, and nobody does everything the same. we have different strengths and limits, we do things at different speeds, and in community we can compensate for our differences. and most importantly, nobody needs to be "deserving" of help and resources - everyone should have a right to help and resources.

i volunteered at my local queer youth organization for several years. i did what i could when i could do it. for a while i was the only one with access to a car, so i helped out a lot when moving offices, or when we travelled to a rural town to help out with their first ever pride parade. when i moved out i no longer had access to the car. at every parade i was at, one thing that was made clear in all the speeches was that when we march, we march not only for ourselves, but for everyone unable to join. there was never any shame in being unable to join. be it because of safety reasons, or disability, or just plain availability - not everyone can join! not everyone wants to join! enough people do that we have a parade regardless.

something that became pretty difficult at one point is when the leader of the local chapter started taking on too many tasks and delegating too little, essentially bringing the whole organisation to a halt when she was unable to do the tasks and nobody else had access to them. not knowing your limits makes you a choking point.

and like, okay. i'll be the first to admit that i take the whole sentiment of "you're not trying hard enough" a little bit personally. me, and probably every other disabled and neurodivergent person who has had to hear it a million zillion times while they try and try and try and it just does not yield the results - or they yield only at a great cost.

i have several painful memories of my mother, a woman who gets huffy if she has to stand in a queue for too long, implying that i am unwilling to leave my comfort zone. i've grown up thinking that i'm a weak willed and sensitive soul due to personal failing, or maybe a failing to break a bone in my childhood, and hey, maybe it's true. though i AM starting to suspect someof the challenges i face are like, actual challenges, mayhaps due to being autistic and marginalized in a hostile society.

i can't speak on behalf of all disabled people, but i suspect many are familiar with the experience of not being believed when they say they can't do something.

so... okay. how DO we synthesize the 'learned helplessness epidemic' with the fact that people have limits. surely there's a middle ground between "you're not helpless, you can do anything you set your mind to if you just try harder" and "you're not responsible for anything ever and owe people nothing".

i don't know! i just don't think there's a one size fits all solution. making yourself be active and go out is good if you've got depression, and not good if you've got severe burnout. there are times when you may need to push yourself, and times when you need to be forgiving and let yourself rest. is scrolling on your phone for three hours rotting or resting? it depends! it just does!

i think there's great power in knowing your limits. knowing what you can and can't do means finding solutions - sometimes you find an alternative way of doing something, sometimes you need someone else to do it, sometimes you can learn and practice how to do the thing, and sometimes it doesn't need doing. i don't think it's necessary to have to do everything in the most challenging or normative way possible. if it's difficult to throw away trash, maybe you need more available trash cans. i think it's far, far more responsible to be honest about what you can do than overpromise only to crash and burn.

i'm just!!! so exhausted by the idea of constantly pushing yourself, as if improvement can only happen through exertion.

(quick rundown examples brought up in the podcast that made me grind my teeth:

- "unless you have a LEGITIMATE REASON i think picky eating is a moral failing" ghhgrghhgghhhhh

- the whole "americans are getting worse at reading and they only read garbage" as if all reading must be Intellectual and Challenging and that's the True Purpose Of Books. also, not to be like "the american school system has failed you" but the american school system has been failing to teach people to read. like that is actually a thing. i know anti-intellectualism is on the rise and there's a myriad of reasons behind it. but it's weird to me that nobody brings this up!

- "a fifteen year old feeling uncomfortable with this pop star because she's so sexualized" yeah they're fifteen. do you remember how uncomfortable it is to be fifteen and dealing with your body and sexuality in a society that's simultaneously pushing sex at you at every turn while also being extremely weird about sex due to religion probably. im willing to cut all teenagers a lot of slack for being weird about sex and sexuality tbh

- implying people mostly order food/grocery delivery because they're lazy and anxious. Surely People Do It For Myriads Of Other Reasons

- brief mention of "people have less sex than before". stares into the camera asexually

- they didn't actually bring up Therapy Speak but it feels very much in the same vein, you know? a lot of talk about people using mental illness and trauma as an excuse for avoiding things, but you know what might help with a lot of that? therapy. probably. i would hope. like trauma does in fact fuck with your conflict resolution skills, and a lot of people have plenty reasons to be traumatized. Considering)

anyway that's all for now

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 2, Unspeakable, Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) No language in this one; I am SHOOK! Brief mentions of sex, Tolkien nerds, the first appearance of the green-eyed monster, repressing of feelings.

Word Count: 603

Previously On...: Girls' Night with your friends led to some... interesting discussion about your friendship with Bucky.

A/N: Was this scene absolutely necessary? No. Could I resist including a moment to showcase the adorableness of Bucky and Pocket's friendship? Absolutely not.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)  @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp

About an hour later, you were getting ready to watch the first Hobbit movie. You'd changed into your pajamas and were getting your movie snacks in order. Bucky was sprawled atop your mattress; the two of you hardly slept apart anymore, and you alternated whose room you stayed in. Tonight was your turn to host the Nightmare Sleepover, as you'd come to call it.

"How was Girl's Night," Bucky asked as he watched you put on your lotion.

"Interesting," you replied, rubbing the lilac-scented balm into your skin. You knew how much he loved the smell of it, so you always made sure to have it on hand. "They think we're sleeping together, so they wanted all the salacious details."

"Doll," he chuckled, rolling onto his side to get a better view of you, "we are sleeping together."

You shot him an arched glance. "You know what I mean."

Bucky fiddled with his vibranium thumb and looked up at you through his lashes. "What did you tell them?"

You plopped yourself next to him on the bed, grinning. "Well, obviously, I told them you're hung like a horse and have the stamina of a steam engine, but that you always cry after you come and you insist on calling me 'mommy.' It’s fairly off-putting."

"You are an absolute menace!" He lunged for you and began tickling you without mercy. You fought him off as valiantly as you could, but you were no match for a super soldier and you both knew it.

"Yield!" you cried, breathless, a few moments later. "I yield!" He reluctantly let you go so you could catch your breath. "I told them the truth-- we're just friends," you said once you could talk again, "but they all think you're very sexy and one of them-- and I will not say which one-- said she would let you do, and I quote, ‘unspeakable things to her body.’"

Bucky's face lit up like a Christmas tree; you knew how much he relished any kind of praise. It was like physical touch-- he had been deprived of it for so long, he was starved for it. "Was it Natasha? It was Nat, wasn't it?"

The readiness at which he jumped to that conclusion left a gross feeling in the pit of your stomach. All you could do was give him a tight-lipped smile and shrug your shoulders, playing coy. You definitely did not want to examine why his comment made you feel so icky.

"We should get this movie going," you told him, instead. "Otherwise we'll be up all night." Bucky fluffed up your pillows against your headboard while you fiddled with the remote to queue up the film. Because this was Tony's place, you didn't have a regular television. Instead, your room was equipped with a projector embedded in the ceiling, and the entire wall opposite your bed was the screen. It was as good as a movie theater.

"Are you excited?" you asked as you leaned back against the pillows next to Bucky.

"Are you kidding me?" he said, scooting closer to you until your shoulders were touching and passing you an open pack of Twizzlers. "Watching an adaptation of my favorite book with my best girl? I've been looking forward to this since the moment you told me there were movies."

A warmth flooding your insides like liquid sunshine. You poked his mouth with a Twizzler until he opened up and ripped a bite off of it. Grinning, you took a bite and rested your head on his shoulder, feeling completely content in this moment with your best friend.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[the-wip-project]

Bad Brain Days

Today I’m having a bad brain day.

It’s not that my brain is misbehaving. It’s just having a rough time functioning.

You might call it something else, and it has numerous causes, a bad night’s sleep, a flare up of a chronic health condition, medication issues, a short term illness, or simply being overwhelmed with responsibilities.

Whatever the cause, we all have days when our brain doesn’t want to do what it’s supposed to, ie: think.

Which is bad for life in general, and particularly bad for the thinky work of writing.

So what does a committed writer do when faced with a bad brain day?

The first and simplest thing is yield. If your body is telling you to rest, it’s a good idea to heed it.

I don’t advocate for pushing yourself to write every single day. (unless streaks really work well for you, in that case streak on!) It’s especially important if your bad brain days are often caused by feeling overwhelmed.

No doubt you have things you must get done: work, classes, child or elder care, household responsibilities. Things you can’t skip just because you’re not feeling up to it. So do yourself a favor and skip the non-vital tasks, like writing. Just for today.

But perhaps that writing habit thing is starting to catch hold and you’re looking forward to your writing session as something you do for yourself, but sadly your brain just won’t go in the words and ideas direction. What then?

The best thing is to make a list of what you can do. If you have low brain usefulness days frequently, on a good day try coming up with a list of things you can do on slow brain days.

Here’s some ideas to get you started.

1. Read. Skip the social media doom scroll, turn off your devices, and read something on paper. It could be an old favorite that feels comforting, it could be something new and exciting, but either way, focus on what makes the book or story good. We hear a lot about reading critically, and finding fault seems to dominate that. But try reading to admire. Pay attention to what you enjoy, what makes you smile, what makes you feel immersed. Read with the intention of enjoyment.

2. Do something story adjacent. If you like posting about your WIP on socials, find a few good pull quotes and queue them up. Or create a synopsis or pitch to keep on file for whenever someone asks what you’re writing. If you like making visual stuff like mood boards, make one for a scene or character.

3. Feeling up to diving into the work itself? How about updating your outline? Read over what you have written and add whatever changes you’ve made to the outline. It doesn’t have to be complex. Just try making one sentence summaries of each scene. You can do this if you didn’t have an outline to begin with too.

4. Talk to a friend about your writing. Writers need social interaction and if your writing has been consuming a lot of your spare time, just connecting with a friend might be what you need. (and don’t make it all about your writing! Be a good friend!)

5. Make starting tomorrow easier. Do non writing stuff that smooths the way, like tidying up the formatting or layout, creating blank chapters or scenes, or even sketching out a scene without making an attempt to fill in all the blanks.

Finally, don’t make any major decisions about your WIP on a bad brain day. You might do something your regret. Instead make notes on any major cuts or changes that feel needed, and look at them again on a day when you feel good.

And don’t make your writing another burden that makes everything too hard to carry. Tomorrow, when your head is (hopefully) clearer, take the time to assess if your writing is too much. To consider if the goals you’ve set yourself are workable with your current life situation. There’s no shame in dialing things back. If writing 250 words a day is too much, consider reducing it to 200. Or adding in more days off. Or considering a lower pressure project. Writing short fiction instead of tackling The Novel.

Most of all, remember that a solid writing practice is first of all a healthy one. So take care of yourself.

—Maree

Subscribe to my substack to make sure you don't miss a post, chat with me on the WIP Project discord, and tag any posts you make about the challenge with #slomowrino if you want me to see them!

[kakunamatatq]

Okay this is just getting funny now

[margielalalove]

“Are you going to run away?” I frown. “What?” “You usually run away from me. Are you going to?” He’s right. He’s also rude. “You usually lose your king to me. Are you going to?”

Ali Hazelwood, Check & Mate

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

What are you batty about this autumn?

[artemispanthar]

how did you get into quality control?

Ah, well, as with most things in life I sort of just wandered into it lol. As you may or may not know, I used to work in closed captioning and transcription. This was a job I took because it was freelance remote, which I needed because at the time I took care of my little sister during while my mom was at work. I needed something I could pick up and put down when I needed to drop her off and pick her up from school and tend to any needs while she was home.

After about a year or 2 doing that, where I worked if you have consistently high quality scores and high project yield you can apply to be a QC. This opens up a new queue so between captioning work you review other captioner's work for quality. So I did this and eventually also qualified for QA (which in that company was just like QC except it was for new hires whose work usually needed a lot of correcting). This is where I got my initial QC experience.

After like 5 or so years of that I started looking for a new job because I no longer needed freelance work because my little sister no longer needed as much watching over and as much as I love captioning the pay was atrocious. I applied for a QC position for a remote project and was told that they unfortunately already hired the max QCs but they did have data entry positions available (the work being QCed), so I took that. It was a new project so they were hiring a lot of people at once so I think that helped a lot on getting me hired.

After a few months of that they ended up needing more QCs temporarily and because I had QC experience, good quality scores, and exceeded quota I was moved over as a temp QC. Once they no longer needed the extra QCs and downgraded folks, they kept the highest QC performers of which I was one.

After a few more months there was a lull in production I was moved to a call center which sucked so I started applying to other QC positions and since I had QC experience I was able to get a thankfully more stable QC job. So far so good on this one!

But yeah, it all started with doing well enough in captioning that they wanted me to review other people's work. If that hadn't happened, I don't think I'd be in QC now (but who knows)

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

French Kiss (Skam - Chris x OC) Christmas Special Pt.1

Synopsis : Life is a show and Nissen was Christoffer’s stage. He owned the place, people cheered for him, he brought life to the parties and good looks to his group of friends. But after high school he wasn’t so much of a star boy anymore and he found himself being terribly alone. Who really knew the real him? Only the people who got a backstage pass to his life could claim to do. But amidst all the turmoil of his young years, a strange girl is going to stumbled in his life - neither of them will be prepared for this.

Word Count: 5.7k

Part 11 <<< >>> Christmas Special Pt.2

MASTERLIST

Helen planned on spending Christmas back in France with her family, and then hopefully make it back in time to kick off the new year with Chris. Her suitcase was ready a week in advance, and she lived off of old makeup, baggy clothes, and flat shoes. Chris had teased her for her childlike excitement, but he had been more than happy to lend her a sweater or two, not mad one bit to see his girlfriend walking around in his clothes.

He had insisted on driving her to the airport, even though she could have taken public transportation, because the weather was so cold and the wind so bad today. She refused  three times before caving in. He had kissed her goodbye at check-in, and told her to text when she arrived. He didn’t use to do that until recently, and it always made her smile - it was like seeing him come to terms with the fact that he now cared for someone, truly cared. It had only been a handful of weeks since they got together and it was plain as daylight that it was the first relationship he went in seriously.

She had barely passed security when the announcement came through: all planes would stay grounded until the storm passed over, for now all flights were suspended. The weather forecast wasn't optimistic, there was a snow storm sweeping over Oslo and it wasn’t supposed to let up until tomorrow evening. 

God, she had counted on the fact that it was only picking up now, and that her flight would still make it. Shit. The crowd of people around her was similarly distressed and upset, scurrying here and there to gather wandering children and other family members, lining up at the information desk to try and find a solution.

Helen pulled out her phone immediately and tried to book a new flight, but it yielded nothing. With all planes likely grounded until two days from now, and the holidays period, all remaining flights were booked out. She cursed out loud and angrily shut her phone, squatting near a wall and rubbing her face.

First things first: she needed to get her checked in suitcase back. Clearly, she would get nowhere today, so she would take a breath and find her belongings, then take the train back to her apartment. There, she would be able to think calmly and browse for flights. If she tried to join the queue to the info desk now, she’d still be standing there in six hours.

It took her two hours in order to retrieve her luggage and get to the station. There were so many people forced to go back to town and cancel their holidays. Still, it was better than all the people who couldn’t get back home and had to find a hotel for the night so close to christmas. Helen sighed and burrowed her face deeper in her scarf. The first thing she had bought when moving to Norway was decent Winter clothes, and she was thankful for that. Nothing could have prepared her for the cold she felt as deep as her bones.

She could have called Chris. Maybe she should have, in fact. Something held her back. It wasn’t her fault that her flight was cancelled, but she felt stupid that he drove her all the way here for nothing, and she didn’t want to make him drive again in this horrid weather, the road had been almost completely closed, the snow ploughs barely keeping up with the snow fall. 

But even more than that, she didn’t want him to cancel his holiday plans just because hers fell through. Because he would. She knew he would. Shansa had already left for Ireland the week before, her apartment would be cold and empty, and he would feel guilty leaving her alone. But as much as he sometimes complained about his controlling parents, she knew he was looking forward to spending a bit of time with his family. He deserved this.

So she went home alone, cold, soggy because of the melting snow, her face practically frozen, and overall miserable. She didn’t have the energy to do anything other than shower to get her blood running again, change into soft pajamas, and curl up on the couch in front of Netflix. Her suitcase, symbol of her ruined vacation, lay abandoned near the door.

She fell asleep like that, too tired and her hands too cold to type on the computer now anyway. What were the chances that she’d find a last minute flight she could afford now? Christmas eve was in four days, two of which were already wasted due to the weather, and that was only if the snow let up after that.

Her phone blew up over the night, and she woke up to a dozen texts from Chris. She hadn’t forgotten that he had asked her to text when she arrived, but she neither wanted to lie, nor admit that she didn’t make it there. Ghosting him clearly wasn’t the solution, but she wasn’t thinking very rationally last night. Oh well. She answered him to let him know she was good and that she missed him at breakfast. It was their thing to eat breakfast together - to start the day seeing each other, in case life got in the way and they didn’t get to later. 

It all felt all the more stupid because she knew he was downstairs. 

After drinking a scalding hot coffee and eating a piece of toast with egg, Helen felt energized enough to search for a flight, but she had been right not to get her hopes up: there was nothing. The few options she had were completely out of her price range, and it felt like a waste to shell out that much money now. Her visit was already cut short one day now, and paying five times a plane ticket’s normal price was not worth it. 

Helen had no choice but to call her parents again to let them know. They were disappointed but glad that she was safe, even if it meant far away. They offered to celebrate a late Christmas over January, when the flight prices would go down, and promised to keep her gift and the christmas tree exactly where they were until then.

Just when she was resigned to spending Christmas on her lonesome, eating instant noodles and watching movies, her plans were thwarted. Not once had she thought that if she knew when Chris was home, he could also tell when she was there. 

On the second day, he came knocking.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, clearly very confused to see her there. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked back. 

He crossed his arms over his chest. It wasn’t her best comeback, and now he looked annoyed - that he drove to the airport for nothing? That she lied in her text? That she didn’t call him? That she didn’t answer his question? Helen blushed in embarrassment. 

“I was out buying cat food and when I came back, I saw light upstairs. I thought you’d left a lamp on.” Damn, that was a perfectly good reason to be here. She had given him a double of the keys in case of emergency while she was away. “Now your turn.” He raised an eyebrow and made a little hand gesture towards her.

She sighed, knowing it would sound stupid when she said it out loud, but oh well, the truth was the truth.

“My flight was cancelled due to the snow storm.” Her shoulders sagged. “I didn’t want to bother you and ruin your Christmas.”

She couldn’t have sounded more miserable if she tried, and Chris, after a brief moment of silence, smiled. He smiled. Granted, it wasn’t her finest moment - and she looked terrible in her sweatpants and ugly Christmas sweater, her hair hadn’t seen a brush since she left for the airport two days ago, she didn’t wear makeup - but it wasn’t funny. His smile reached all the way to his eyes when his lower lip trembled a bit, and he started laughing.

“Do you think this is funny?” she asked, ready to slam the door in his face.

“I think you’re ridiculous.” He shook his head. “You should have called, I’d have come back for you.”

Helen closed her eyes and groaned, aware that she hadn’t had the best reaction then when the cancellation was announced. She had just given up and sulked the next 24 hours away.

“Yeah… I know. It was stupid, but I didn’t want you to drive back there again in this weather, and I just wanted to get home. It took forever to get my suitcase back, you would have waited for me, and I just-”

“Stop,” he cut her off, placing a hand on her shoulder, his thumb on her neck, tracing slow patterns. She sucked in a breath and leaned into his touch. “C’mon,” he said, pulling her into him to place a kiss on her forehead. “Get dressed and come join me downstairs. You’re not staying here, I can’t enjoy my Christmas if I know you’re alone in this empty apartment.”

“No, you were going to spend a few days with your parents, you should do as you planned. I’ll survive a few days on my own,” she assured him, laughing a bit for good measure even though she did not look forward to it.

“What makes you think I won’t?” Chris asked. “Just come with me. It’ll be more fun if you’re here anyway, I don’t have any siblings to get into trouble with. It’s usually just me and my folks, and I’d love the company.”

“No, I couldn’t-” she began to protest. “I don’t want to impose on your family time.” 

Not to mention she was modified at the prospect of meeting both his parents without any time to prepare mentally or otherwise, since he would join them before the end of the day. Served her well for not putting in any effort today.

There was a pause before Chris, still standing in her doorway, pointed at her suitcase.

“What’s in there?” he asked.

Helen frowned at the sudden change of subject.

“Most of my earthly possessions if I’m being honest,” she answered after a beat. Maybe she had overpacked just a little bit, but she liked to be ready and to make an entrance, what could she say? 

“Perfect!” Chris proceeded to snatch her suitcase before she could react, and he almost ran to the elevator. “If you want it back you need to follow me,” he shouted from down the hallway.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I need what’s in there,” Helen protested, reluctant to step outside her flat looking like a mop.

“Yes, you do. To come with me and spend Christmas in a real cabin in the mountains, not to hole up here, all alone,” he argued. She heard the familiar ‘ding’ of the elevator signaling it arrived on this floor.

“Chris!”

That wasn’t really an argument, but she was gobsmacked at the audacity of this boy. She shouldn’t be, because it was the same Chris who tricked her into a date, who flirted shamelessly with her for weeks despite her keeping him at arm’s length. This was the Funny Business Chris. And God damn if he wasn’t her favourite Chris of all.

“Are you absolutely sure your parents won’t mind you inviting me?”

“I’m sure.” There was finality in his tone.

She hesitated only one more beat.

“I’ll get dressed and join you downstairs.”

*

Chris was frying some eggs when a pair of arms wrapped around his waist from behind, and nearly sent him into a coma.

“You sneaky-” he started but bit down on his tongue before letting out a profanity, dropping the fork he was holding. “I need to start locking my window again.”

“You wouldn’t,” Helen dared him, her voice a whisper against his ear. 

No, he really wouldn’t. He would honestly rather take the risk of a burglar coming in than Helen being stuck outside. He didn’t answer, he simply shook his head with a smile on his lips, and lifted his left arm so Helen could scoot under it and snuggle his side. 

“Eggs on toast? Fresh fruit? What are we celebrating?” she asked, stealing a piece of bread freshly out of the toaster.

Chris blushed suddenly, not wanting to admit out loud that he had wanted to spoil her a little, even though there was nothing to be ashamed of, on the contrary.

“Felt in a decadent mood,” he offered. “And I had some fresh produce to go through before leaving.”

Helen shrugged and smiled, accepting the explanation. She had dressed warm and casual: a thick pair of leggings, high socks, and what looked like several underlayers topped with a long sweater. She looked like a big, soft hug.

“I’ll make the coffee,” she declared, but Chris held her back by the wrist and spun her back towards him, as smoothly as the night they first kissed, when they danced in her living room. For a heartbeat, Helen was stunned into complete silence.

“No!” he said, then quickly hooked his hands under her thighs to lift her up. Helen gasped in surprise but wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist to catch herself.

And just like that, she felt she had way too many layers on. Had Chris’ place better heating than hers? She could feel her face grow redder by the second, but thankfully, Chris set her down.

On the kitchen island. 

“You stay here,” he ordered. “No moving.”

“Why?” Helen laughed but obeyed. “Why can’t I make coffee?”

“Because I said so.”

“But I-”

“Tststs,” he cut her off, waving his fork at her now. She closed her mouth, still smiling. “That’s better.”

“Oh my, I didn’t realize you were so bossy,” she commented, swinging her legs back and forth. “Though I have to say, I kind of like the view from here.”

Helen leaned back and tilted her head, eyeing Chris’ form up and down as he stood with his back to her and finished cooking the eggs. If she didn’t watch herself, she would spend entire minutes simply looking at him, not saying a word. He caught her once and had been surprisingly flustered, almost shy about it. She couldn’t fathom Chris not being used to being stared at.

Now she admired his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He was dressed clean, he looked much more put together than her, probably for his parents’ benefit. Maybe she should have dressed up a little more, but like she said, most of her nice things were in the suitcase he ran away with.

“You should see what’s under there,” he teased her, turning his head just long enough to wink her way.

“But I already know what underneath, I just never get tired of it, I guess,” she continued, now full on trying to distract him from his task. It took effort not to jump off the counter and press her entire body against his, letting her hands slip under his sweater and roam over his back. 

She took off her knitted sweater, feeling way too hot now - she had dressed to go out in the cold, not to have a domestic moment with her boyfriend. What good were all these layers here? Helen leaned back even more and spread her legs - just a little, nothing outrageous. 

“You can touch but only with your eyes, I’m not on the menu.”

He didn’t turn around, which made her squint her eyes at his back.

“That’s not fair,” she whined a little. “I’d like to speak with whoever is in charge of this place.”

When Chris finally turned on his heels to look at her, the snarky reply he had at the ready died on his lips. He pushed the pan off the stove and dropped the fork, almost pouncing on her. He now stood between her legs, hands slammed on the counter on each side of her and that was all he could do not to grab her ass and slide her towards him to press her flush against his chest.

The minx had dropped all of her tops while he had his back turned, and now sat in her leggings and bra on his kitchen island, taunting him even as he tried to cook her an innocent, wholesome breakfast. 

“I’m gonna go ahead and assume you’re not that hungry,” Chris managed to say, voice raspy,, swallowing hard while he tried to look her in the eyes and not just stare openly at her chest. He was but a man after all. 

Helen sat upright again and wrapped her legs around Chris, scooting closer to the edge. Her lips very slightly grazed his, and he closed his eyes in expectation, but she didn’t kiss him - no, she bit his earlobe. Chris groaned now, and she felt a familiar twitch against the crotch of his jeans. She reached around her back then…

“On the contrary,” she whispered.

…and unclasped her bra.

“Je suis affamée.”

*

They had made quite a mess of themselves, and their breakfast was cold by the time they ate it, but neither of them would have changed a thing. They even managed to stay on time! It was a solid five hour drive to reach his family’s cabin, and the roads were dangerous this time of year, especially after the last few days of snow storm, so they wanted to make the most of what little daylight there was in December. 

They both ended up showering again, but with no time left to dry their hair they just shoved beanies on their head and called it good enough to make it to the car. Chris had a big car, an SUV with massive chained-up wheels, which Helen really appreciated in this weather.

They made idle chatter for the first two hours, just bantering and doing blind tests with the radio, discovering little things about each other. Helen had let her hair down to dry but Chris kept his beanie on until he wasn’t cold anymore - which took a while - but after a couple hours, he took it off.

Helen slapped her hand over her mouth.

“What?” Chris asked, briefly looking at her instead of the road. “What?��� he asked again.

“Don’t tell me you have curly hair when you let it air dry,” Helen said, not asked. She was grinning from ear to ear.

Chris blushed but didn’t say a word.

“You do!” she exclaimed. “Why didn’t I know that?”

“Because we live in Norway, nobody lets their hair air dry, we would all die from exposure,” he replied, forgetting the part where he would have gladly taken this secret to his grave. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t think it suited him - he knew it suited him - but there was history. There were many, many family gatherings when he was small where various aunts and cousins pinched his cheeks and pulled his curls and called him cute. He didn’t want to be cute. No man wanted a beautiful woman to see him and immediately think ‘aw, cute’. His teenage rebellion came and went but he never returned to natural curls, that was just too much for him.

Granted, his curls had loosened a bit since then, but his hair had never become straight. Wavy, at best. Chris groaned and focused back on the road. 

“No, you’re right,” Helen said in a sigh. “You’re handsome enough as it is, if you went out like that I would have to physically fight off other women.”

“Don’t be mean, I didn’t have time to dry it.” He rolled his eyes.

“Mean?” she repeated. “I mean exactly what I said. Do you know I caught two freshmen looking at you like you were made of chocolate last week? I tried to stand in the way, but they just kept on staring at you right through me. Like I didn’t even exist.”

He scoffed. He had noticed her doing that, but he didn’t want to give those girls any credit and ignored it all. They had been waiting in line to buy movie tickets and he had better things to do, like for example, listening to his girlfriend trying to recount a trailer she’d seen in the most confusing possible way. He hadn’t understood a word of it, but had lovingly nodded nonetheless, happy if she was happy.

“Well, now it just feels like you’re stroking my ego,” he pointed out. “It’s fine, I’ll just blow dry my hair next time.”

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, mon coeur.” Helen shook her head, smiling to herself. Chris’ heart skipped a beat at the term of endearment. He had asked her what it meant the first time she used it, and it never failed to elicit a reaction out of him.

“Ok, what are you saying then?” he asked, trying again.

“I’m saying your curls are hot,” she answered, straight to the point. “I mean, you’re always hot, but if you’d looked like that the day we met, my God…” she trailed off.

And that was saying something, because she recalled reacting in the most mouse-like, undignified, blushing-virgin style way when she bumped into him for the first time.

“No, please go on. I’d like to know how that sentence ends,” he encouraged her and she poked him in the ribs. 

“I’ll make you a deal: you keep your hair like that the entire time we’re at the cabin, and I’ll show you how the sentence ends,” she offered, turning towards him.

His brows knitted and his lips twisted. It took him a minute of pondering before he answered.

“Sorry, but my parents will never let me hear the end of it if I do that. I’m afraid my mom’s going to send pictures to my grandparents to show them, and I really don’t wanna see that end up in the cousins group chat.”

Helen didn’t let them temper her mood.

“Alright, I hear you. But what if I sweeten the deal?”

“I’m listening, but don’t get your hopes up,” Chris laughed.

“What if…” she started, clearing her throat. “Every time you forget to blow dry your hair, I also conveniently forgot to wear my underwear?” 

Chris pulled the brakes and stopped the car in the middle of the road - they were completely alone and hadn’t seen another car in ages. There was no sound apart from the car’s low rumble and the soft christmas tunes on the radio. After a long while, Chris started the car up again.

“I’ll think about your offer, vennen.”

For a second he heard Andrea’s voice in his head, yelling at him for hesitating and ordering him to never ever blow dry his hair again, stupid family group chat be damned. He tended to agree with that little voice, but he didn’t like it so much that his inner voice now sounded like Andre of all people. 

Luckily, Helen changed the subject then.

“By the way, I know this might not be the best timing, but I wanted to give you this. It came in only yesterday and I wanted to wait until I returned from my trip to France, but well- that didn’t happen.” She dug an envelope out of her bag and laid it on the car’s dashboard.

“What is it?” Chris asked, curious but obviously unable to read it now. They still had short of three hours to drive. 

“It’s, ugh-” she cleared her throat. “These are my STI test results.”

The car pulled to a sudden stop again, nearly sending Helen out of her seat.

“What?!” Chris asked.

“You really need to stop braking like that,” she groaned, massaging her neck. “Calm down, it’s all completely negative, of course.”

He started breathing again then, apologizing for stopping in the middle of the road again and started driving once again.

Helen laughed a little at how white he was in the face.

“Ok, I take it this is not something people do in Norway?” she asked. “I didn’t know and I figured it didn’t hurt to do it, so voilà.”

“I’m so confused right now, why would you get tested if you knew you didn’t have anything?” Chris asked, trying to follow what she was saying while navigating the road’s sharp turns in the fading daylight. They were already pretty high up now, the roads were getting narrower.

“It’s just something I've always done, and that my friends do, too. When we get into a new relationship, and it’s getting serious, we get tested together. Even if we know we don’t have anything, it’s a gesture of good faith. It’s… I don’t know, respectful? It’s a way of showing the other person they are safe with you.”

She shrugged a little, Chris saw the slight pink in her cheeks and he almost regretted asking because he had made her feel embarrassed.

“You’ve never done it?” she finally asked him.

“No…” he trailed off. 

He was embarrassed too, now. Too embarrassed to admit he had never even considered having this thoughtful gesture towards one of his girlfriends. Truly, he had never considered any of his past relationships legit enough for anything like this. He had yet to tell her, but she was the first girl he’d let meet his parents, the first he brought home. 

He’d had way more one night stands than girlfriends anyway, and he didn’t really want to admit that to Helen either. She must have suspected it, though. 

“Hey,” she said, bursting his bubble. “I didn’t do it to make you feel bad, like I just didn’t know how to bring up the subject without sounding like I didn’t trust you, even though we’ve been using protection up until now, so I thought I’d do it first.”

“No, I get it. I just hadn’t thought of it.” Then, after a second, he added, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just say you’ll do it?”

“Of course, whatever you want,” Chris immediately promised her. 

“Thank you.” She leaned back against her seat, a weight visibly off her shoulders, and placed a hand on his thigh. “Sorry, that was an awkward conversation, but this letter was burning a hole through my bag, I couldn’t keep it from you until after Christmas. And I’m getting so tired of using condoms, too.”

Chris had to make a physical effort not to slam his right foot on the brakes again, but he wanted to look at her then, not at the road! 

Eyes still ahead, Chris asked, “...am I understanding that you got tested because you wanted to go raw?”

He simply didn’t know any classier way to ask this without dancing around the subject like a complete blushing virgin. 

“Well, obviously.”

Ok, seems like she was in a straightforward mood too. 

Again, the little Andre-like voice in his head started talking and this time, it was throwing a full-blown party in his skull. If his friend had heard any part of this conversation, he would have simply dropped dead where he stood. Not in a million years could he or Chris have imagined that the pretty, classy librarian would admit to wanting to go raw in the bedroom.

The sentence ‘lady  in the streets, freak in the sheets’ crossed Chris’ mind. All his nerve endings were on fire, he felt hot in the face and tingly all over. He just won the proverbial fucking LOTO. 

He had never ditched the condom, in fact he felt like it had been drilled into him since he was old enough to date that sex = condom. 

His little balloon of excitement popped then.

“But what if-” he didn’t finish his question because it felt dumb to ask and he felt even dumber for what his question implied. 

She looked at him, waiting for him to find his words.

“I mean, you’re taking…” Again, he didn’t finish, but she got the jist of it.

“I am. I have an implant,” she very kindly answered, smiling softly. 

Clearly she had had this kind of conversation before. Chris was at his wits’ end and there was so much driving left before they arrived. If they’d been on the highway, he would have stopped for a coffee. And maybe a cigarette. He hadn’t smoked since before the army.

Gathering all his courage, he blurted out what he wanted to ask in one breath.

“Isn’t it fallible? Isn’t it safer to use condoms?”

Thank all the gods night had started to fall, it hid most of his furious blushing. He repressed the urge to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants. Helen laughed.

“Condoms are the least reliable contraception. And if push comes to shove, we live in a country where abortion is legal and safe.”

How could she say all this with a straight face? How could she? Chris was so glad to be driving now, because it provided the perfect excuse not to meet her gaze and to look at the road instead. 

“Now, my turn to ask a question, and no judgment here-” she began, and Chris already hated where this was going. “If you’ve never been tested before, and you apparently haven’t researched female contraception that much, have you ever had sex without a condom?”

There was a long, long pause, during which Chris bit the inside of his cheeks raw, and wished he died right here, right now. Just died. Poof! In a cloud of smoke. 

“I-” Helen opened her mouth to say something, this lengthy silence having answered for him.

“You said no judgment!” he countered right away, raising a finger in her direction.

“I wasn’t going to,” she promised.

“Ok.” He breathed out. “Sorry, no, I’ve never not used a condom. I might be a whore but not a stupid one.”

Helen couldn’t help but laugh, and her laugh was infectious enough for Chris to finally relax and join her in her glee. He knew there was nothing to be ashamed of, but damn, he suddenly felt like a complete beginner. He might as well never have had sex, period. 

“That’s a great autobiography title, if nothing else,” she teased. “And don’t worry, we’ll get you tested as soon as we get back.” There was a dark glint in her eyes now, and the sly smirk on his lips sent a shiver down his spine. “Besides, we’ve haven’t really fucked until you come inside me for real.”

His foot flew to the brakes once more, the car stopping so abruptly it stalled. Helen was about to chastise Chris but he exited the car as soon as he killed the engine, and walked all the way to her side, opening the door.

“You drive now! I can’t do this anymore.”

*

Meeting her boyfriend’s parents was always in the cards, but Helen never figured it would happen so soon, and in such a formal setting. Spending Christmas together felt like a big step, and she didn’t even know if they were aware of her existence until then. Chris assured her he called them to let them know, he promised they would be nice, and that the cabin was beautiful.

It was, that was for sure. It was beautiful and big, and much, much more luxurious than anything Helen imagined when Chris first mentioned a cabin. She imagined they would need to keep a constant fire going, huddle up on the couch to keep warm, and sleep with their fuzziest socks.

But it clearly wasn’t that type of cabin. 

After an hour behind the wheel, Chris switched places with her again, because it was getting seriously dark, and he knew the way while she constantly had to look at the GPS. She had gasped and pointed at a series of houses up on the mountain when they neared the end of their trip. The lights were on, and suggested a massive construction.

“This isn’t it, is it?” she asked. “This must be a hotel.”

It was not a hotel. Her expression, eyes full of little stars, made him smile. He had forgotten what it did to see this for the first time, he had been coming here for his entire life. She almost didn’t believe him when he assured her that was the place they were going to.

“But we’re only four people, who rents such a massive place for four people?” she asked.

Chris winced. “Not a rental.” Helen’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

“Looks like they arrived before us,” she observed nervously, looking up towards the light in the windows until they took a sharp turn that hid the cabin from view.

Chris’ eyes flitted towards the clock. No, it was too early.

“Unlikely, they usually arrive right before dinner.” It was only four in the afternoon, despite the pitch black outside. The joys of Winter know no end. 

“Are you going to make me ask why the light is on then, or are you going to tell me?”

“Hey, let me enjoy this!” he protested, mock-annoyed. “It’s not everyday I get to steal your breath away like this.”

“That’s not true, just come in through my window with your hair like this one night, and spend the night showing me how much you adore me. Let me wake up in your arms to once again see your little curls fall in front of your sleepy eyes, and I’ll forget how to breathe entirely.”

“I can’t tell if you’re making a sport out of giving me as many hard ons as you can over the duration of a single car drive, or if you’re genuinely the horniest girl I’ve ever met,” Chris mused.

Helen pursed her lips.

“I am kind of horny,” she admitted. “In a romantic way.”

“Oh, thank God! Here I thought you were just using me for my body.” Sarcasm came naturally but Helen made a funny face at him in answer. She remembered the time he confessed to her that he thought most women only considered him like a dildo attached to a body. A wave of protestation swelled in her breast and the words poured out before she could think better of it.

“Absolutely not! I love you for who you are!”

She slapped both her hands over her mouth as if by doing so, she could catch those words and push them back into her mouth, behind closed teeth.

But they were out there now, and they were greeted by heavy, uncomfortable silence.

[xavigav]

Making My Own Tumblr Year In Review

So tumblr is not doing the individual years in review for 2023 like they did the last couple of years :(

This is the first year I’ve really been active on Tumblr and used it as my primary social media, so I was really sad to hear that. But then I decided…why not do it myself?

I posted 1837 times in 2023. That’s 5 times per day.

1748 (95%) of my posts were reblogs, and 89 (5%) of my posts were original.

Blogs I think I reblogged the most? Not in order.

@yipeewahoo

@hoodie-sys

@94erz

@namchyoon

@heybaetae

These are just based on me cmd-f'ing my blog using the names of blogs I remember reblogging a lot. It's probably wrong.

My top 15 most used tags (not 5 because i love tagging and want to show more):

#bts - 1045 posts (yeah obviously)

#bts pics - 803 posts (yeah obviously x2)

#queue attack my heart - 691 posts

#memery - 312 posts

#namjoon - 308 posts (i am so mentally ill)

#hoseok - 167 posts

#jungkook - 166 posts

#seokjin - 138 posts

#jimin - 138 posts (i wrote down seokjin's tag first so i put it higher)

#yoongi - 119 posts

#fic & writing - 108 posts

#taehyung - 103 posts

#bts birthdays - 99 posts

#serious posts - 92 posts

#namjoonposting - 59 posts (my favorite tag)

By the way this was so fucking annoying to do. The archive does not show how many posts you have in a certain tag. For every month I counted the amount of rows in a tag, multiplied it by 8, and added in any rows that didn't quite get up to 8. Then I added all those months together. I had to do that for every tag. Tumblr why is there no easy way to see the number of posts in a tag.

My top 5 posts of 2023:

5. Luffy Tab - 20 notes

Still can't believe we just. got a luffy tab. i just woke up and had a luffy tab

4. BTS Post Search - 27 notes

As it turned out. the poster changed their name to something else so that's why i couldn't find the post from tumblr user soupmoths -- they were an entirely different person. oopsie

Also I ended up being able to reblog it! Someone tagged me!

3. 3D Rant - 32 notes

This post got me my first hate reblog <3

In case anyone is wondering. I still agree with everything I said here.

2. Porn - 99 notes

Not doing the big link preview for this one since that on its own is kinda nsfw. Minors don’t click that link.

But yeah. That makes sense.

Even though there’s only 5 reblogs people find it semi-frequently (especially the past few days, no idea why), so I guess it’s spreading somehow? Which makes me happy :)

The Reddit Post - 2.1k notes

Obviously that was going to be it lol, over 20 times the amount of notes than anything else. My notifications were Dying.

Also, this stuff wasn’t in the actual Year in Review(s), but I’m adding them in for fun.

I liked 21k posts in 2023.

I followed 426 blogs in 2023 (not including the accounts I unfollowed).

I gained 69 followers in 2023 (excluding porn bots and regular bots). Nice.

I started 4 blogs on this account, 1 main blog and 3 side blogs.

I gained 15 mutuals in 2023 <3

All this data was as of December 18th, 2023.