#the thing w/ being unable to perceive time is that it feels like it's been over a week since i last drew anything. which is just false LOL

[mementoasts]

oouughgh i'm suffering so many ideas can't draw anything oouguugughhgh

[rennyrose]

I would absolutely love to hear your schpeel about how LR handle emotions ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

(Shiooooooooooooot thank ya'll ahhhH ((I hope u enjoyed the manga ahhhhhhhh)))

(Oh jeeze I struggled with picking out where to start with this- but yeh here's some of my THots and Interpralations- Spoilers!))

I guess comparatively it's interesting how differently LR deal with heavy emotions- Livio when he's allowed to be his true self is very in touch with his feelings while also being very receptive of other's emotions (A double edged sword- making him empathetic/sympathetic and good with children, but also hypersensitive to negativity geared towards him, which causes him false senses of rejection)

NGL I find it refreshing having a masculine character be a leaky faucet and it's not portrayed as a running joke- I can only imagine how much conditioning it took for Chapel to instill on L for him to bottle his emotions up so much to the point he behaved more like a machine than a person, with Livio trying his best to remain in Chapel's good standings (So much so it still has an effect on how Livio perceives himself, less of a man and moreso a tool). I can also only imagine how exhausting it must've been to have Chapel constantly analyzing and commenting on L's behavior, even the smallest things like a change in his breathing- So it must've been incredibly liberating when he was allowed to cry for the first time in who-knows-how-long with nobody judging him during his first supper with Vash

I like with his little bit of character growth he's able to reach out to R to let him know that he understood that he'd relied on R too much, the result being that L had ended up treating them both poorly- indicative that he can be open and deep with others (albeit maybe not at the best of times lololol)

That being said- Razlo does a terrible job with handling his own emotions and even admits that he is no good when it comes to having deep discussions- I tend to think that he is made incredibly uncomfortable by being upset/sad, and is someone who is very difficult to console or comfort, as when he's made upset its a big outburst of emotions boiling over- borderline being a temper-tantrum

Tend to also think that he also has a very difficult time with processing with feelings of love/joy geared towards him from others, as its not something he's ever really experienced growing up with others- but tends to constantly seek validation anyways despite being unable to interpolate it very well

What's neat tho even with his very brief appearances in the manga that even as a very aggressive character we can see that he's got a broad range, more than capable of being at the very least sympathetic (ie w/ WW getting his ass beat for a bit) and is very very very lonely-

[cassiusfen]

This isn't my art, (it's made by @ TheHearthFox over on Twitter) but I wanted to make a long post about why this work in particular speaks to me so goddamn much. I think such a massive part of the queer experience -- and also the furry experience -- is about the abstract. This can be seen in so many different aspects of furry "culture," from the concept of fursonas to kink and and other fetish content. You and I will never know what it's like to be a werewolf and transform under the full moon into the form of a big hulking furry beast. However, us furries create art and other works about the idea of it anyway. We never will be able to be our fursonas -- our often idealized and "perfect" versions of ourselves -- and part of that really hurts. It hurts so bad honestly, to the point where I can't quite put it into words. In terms of queer culture, I will never know what it is like to be a cis woman, and that also messes with me a lot. Yet, I'm still trans, my identity can change, I can perceive myself as whatever I damn well please. Identity allows you to shape yourself and the world around you in your own image, even if not everyone can see its beauty.

We have ways to get at least somewhat close to how we feel in our abstraction. VRChat allows you to make an avatar of what ever you want, whether it's your fursona or just an ideal version of you. Hell, it doesn't even have to be you, it could be anyone or anything really. We have a whole industry based around creating big ass costumes that allow people to at least look something like their desired character. But it's not enough. It's never enough. I ain't religious, but sometimes I feel like I've bitten the apple, been kicked out of the garden, and now I'm left to fend for myself with an identity that my physicality will never match. When I made my fursona using an avatar base in vrchat and configured it to match my real world body scales and looked down, I honestly started crying. I take the headset off, and I'm still me. Everyone takes the headset or fursuit off and they're still the body they were given, not what they would choose. Our reality is objective, and there's no way to really change that. We can act like animal people online all day, but the moment that screen shuts off, the moment we walk away, that warm, fuzzy feeling (hehe) fades.

To think abstract is to think beyond what you can normally sense. You will never get to brush the knots out of your fur in the morning, or play with your antennae while anxious (I see you bug people). We can still have those ideas, however. I know I'm on the third goddamn paragraph and I'm just now talking about the artwork I linked but this is an important concept to me. Usually, when I think of the abstract, it feels unreal, "fuzzy" so to speak. However, in HearthFox's piece, the objective reality appears out of focus and pixelated. It feels like even if we are unable to fully embrace the abstract, we can still embrace what we can of it, and bring some sort of color to a world that doesn't feel like it is made for us. The colors being outside of the lines could suggest that our abstract perception is maybe just "painted on" to the world around us, but is that a bad thing? Is it bad to take things in from the world around you, but still look at it all in your own unique way? I think not. This also isn't only about therian identity, or furry identity, or even queer identity -- it's also about neurodivergence. You are never in the wrong for thinking about the world in a way that is viewed as "non-standard" by the rest of the world. If you see yourself as a wolf, bee, fox, bear, raccoon, a fucking plane, it's not a bad thing. We can still identify however we want, and this modern way of looking at identity is the best way for us to embrace the abstract.

Go wild, go fucking stupid. Love yourself, if you're a fox, be a fox, there are ways you can feel that way, even if it's not all of the time. We can fight, we can love, we can still find ways to elation, even if sometimes existence itself feels wrong to you. This work is but one side of abstract thinking. Look at the color the fox has compared to the objective. Look how the fur drapes, how it runs down the body, or how the snout expresses emotion. Sometimes it feels melancholic, but you cannot tell me that trying your absolute damnedest to live your identity doesn't at least bring some color to your otherwise dreary and unfocused world.

Stay safe, love yourself no matter what.

[radical-revolution]

Life, a Slapstick Comedy

One evening a visitor started the talk with these words: Maharaj sometimes says that the entire manifestation is an illusion, like a movie, or a stage play, and that...

Maharaj interrupted him with a laugh and said: But, it is not the usual purposeful movie; it is a hell of a comedy, a real slapstick, if you would only clearly see the whole thing as it really is. Look, here I am, in my home, bothering no one, doing what comes to me naturally. Suppose, one day a

policeman suddenly appears at my doorstep and charges me with assault and robbery in Calcutta on such and such a day. I tell him that I have never been out of my home town, let alone being in Calcutta and taking part in an assault and robbery. The conviction with which I tell this to the

policeman makes him a bit diffident. He conducts further inquiries and finds that what I said, was true. He then apologizes to me and leaves me alone. This is as it should be.

But here comes the comic part. You also face a similar charge; you also have never been to Calcutta, but you are so much overawed by the presence of the policeman that you are unable to speak in your defense and you allow him to arrest you. Later, when you are behind the bars, you lament about your bondage and cry for liberation!

Is this not ridiculous?

In my original state of unicity and wholeness, I didn't even know that I existed. And then one day I was told that I was 'born', that a particular body was 'me', that a particular couple were my parents. Thereafter, I began accepting further information about 'me', day after day, and thus built up a whole pseudo-personality only because I had accepted the charge of being born although I was fully aware that I had no experience of being born, that I had never agreed to be born, and that my body was being thrust on me. Gradually, the conditioning became stronger and stronger and grew to such an extent that not only did I accept the charge that I was born as a particular body, but that I would, at some future date, 'die' and the very word 'death' became a dreaded word to me signifying

a traumatic event.

Can anything be more ridiculous?

By my Guru's grace, I realized my true nature, and also realized what a huge joke had been played on me.

The more startling illusion, therefore, is not so much the happening of an event known as birth-life-death over a period of what is known as 'time', as is the acceptance of an objective entity which is supposed to undergo the experience of this conceptual event. And the basic illusion, which makes

this illusion possible, is the concept of space in which objects could be extended, and the concept of time (duration) in which the spatially extended objects could be perceived.

Now, do you understand why I said that life is a slapstick comedy, a farce?

Go a step further and see the extent to which your conceptual entity gets itself involved in this farce. You not only fail to see that you are merely an actor playing a role in this farce, but go on to assume that you have a choice of decision and action in the play (called 'life'), which must obviously unfold strictly according to the pre-written script. And when events thus take place naturally in the ordinary course, this conceptual entity that man is, lets himself get affected by them, and suffers. And the

he thinks of 'bondage' and 'liberation'.

Liberation is seeing the life as a farce, and perceiving that you (the 'I' without the slightest touch of objectivity) can not be an entity of any shape, name or kind.

Liberation is apperceiving that sentient objects are part of the manifestation of the total phenomena, without separate identities, that what 'I' am is the sentience in all sentient objects, the conscious presence as much.

Liberation is apperceiving that I, the Absolute, in my phenomenal expression, am the functioning (seeing, hearing, feeling, tasting, smelling, thinking) without the presence of any other individual actors.

Now, do you understand why you 'suffer'? Because you are a case of mistaken identity; or rather because you have accepted what is obviously a mistaken identity!

- Pointers from Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj.

Compiled by Sri Ramesh Balsekar.

[bigoltrashpile]

(If you are still doing this) Q1 or Q2 (which ever gets the brain brrring) with butch

I'll go with Q2, since I got another request for Q1 and both of them make the brain brrrrr pretty equally lol

Why the fuck was this skeleton staring at you?

He had been sitting at the table across from yours for the entire time you had been eating at your favorite little diner, and you were sure his eyes hadn't left you the entire time. It might be a coincidence, though. You were on a blind date after all, and you didn't want to insult them by looking at someone else the whole time. Maybe he just happened to look at you every time you glanced over?

Fat chance.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. "This has been really nice," you said to your date. It was a big lie, they had been talking about themself the entire time. "But I really need to get going."

Thankfully, they nodded. "Alright. Call me back sometime? We can do this again next week, maybe go bowling?"

"Sure, sure." You would say anything you needed to get away from that skeleton at this point. "I'll see you soon."

You walked through the darkened parking lot as fast as you could, desperate to get home to the perceived safety of your home. As you did, you didn't notice the bright red eyelights watching you from the shadows.

When you got home, you shut and locked all the doors and windows, unable to shake the feeling of being watched. At least you were safe now....right?

You woke up the next morning feeling a lot calmer. Of course you had been overreacting, it was probably just a monster thing, or a weird miscommunication. After all, the skeleton had been dressed in a three piece suit at a small family diner, so he was probably just weird.

As you went about your morning routine, you were surprised to find a package outside your front door. Weird. You weren't expecting anything. Maybe it was for one of your neighbors?

Curious, you checked the name on the package. Oh, it was for you! You took it inside, practically sprinting to the kitchen to find a knife or a pair of scissors to open it.

As you fumbled with the scissors, you vaguely noted in the back of your mind that there was no postage or address, just your name written in...was that comic sans? Weird. That just made you even more curious!

You finally managed to get the box open and-

Oh my god.

It was a head.

The severed head of your date.

You stumbled backwards, unable to breathe, to think, to scream, anything. There was. A head. On your kitchen table.

You were only able to react when you ran right into someone's chest. A loud scream tore from your throat, only to be cut short by a large hand covering your mouth.

A skeletal hand.

"shhhh, no need for that, doll," a rough voice purred. "s'just a lil gift~"

You managed to look up, your heart sinking when you saw who it was. It was the same skeleton from last night, the one who had been watching you. The red lights in his eyesockets bored into you, strangely heart shaped now.

"don't scream now doll, or i'll have to take...drastic measures." The skeleton's eyes darted to the box on the table. "i just wanna chat."

He finally let go, and you immediately scrambled to get away. "W-who are you? What do you want from me?"

"like i said," he shrugged, way too casual for someone who had just delivered a severed head and broken into your house. "just givin' ya a lil gift. ya deserve to be treated better than that piece of shit could treat ya."

"I'm going to tell the police," you threatened, scrambling for your phone. "I've seen your face, you won't get away with this!"

The skeleton didn't even seem bothered. "well, i guess it pays to have friends in high places. really helps ya get a-head in life. they can't do shit to me."

As he spoke, you started to shake. This guy could do anything he wanted to you, and nobody would care, or even punish him for it! "Please...don't hurt me."

"heh, looks like you'll have to come with me then, y/n." How did he know your name? "you're mine now."

"But...you don't even know me!" you argued. "What do you want from me?"

"heheheh," he laughed even harder. "i know ya, kitten. ya just don't know me." In a blink, he was on you, pinning you to the wall. "the name's butch, but from now on, just call me your husband~"

[chinzhillaby]

okay so i saw a tiktok and the person in the video said that thanks to tinn saying “if you dont look at me, how do you know i look at you?” we all could tell that gun has liked tinn since the beginning.

i want to talk about this because i dont think the same and i just need to give my opinion.

the person said that the sentence demonstrates that gun was already in love with tinn because it would mean that gun had an interest in tinn, and that this explained why gun gave tinn the ice shaved on his birthday, why he sang the city song to tinn and why gun dreamed of tinn at the beginning of the series, also, the way he knew that tinn was looking at him all this time and did not want to answer his question because he didnt wanted to tell him that he was also in love.

i understand why at first it might seem that after hearing tinn saying that, it’s possible that gun has always liked him, but until the series confirms the truth, what the person said and what I will say can be just theories. the viewpoints of this person help me explain myself better about why I don't think the same and that's why I’ll talk about this! but overall I respect their opinion because we can all perceive things differently (in fact, if someone reads this and has the same or a different opinion as me, I would like to be able to read them too!)

okay so, i think they are right to stand that there could be an interest from gun’s side, but I don't think that gun liked tinn or was in love. gun has studied with him for two years, and he has never gotten close to him. in the two occasions that tinn tries to confess, we notice that gun is often distracted by other things like yak’s fight in chinzhilla’s performance that ends with tinn being unable to confess his feelings. or when tinn is explaining to gun what crosswords are and he leaves when he hears people playing instruments. gun doesn't show that much interest in tinn, and although he recognized him on his birthday, he tends to forget afterwards. it seems that he only remembers tinn when he manages to associate him with "nobitinn" because of his look.

however, when tinn decides to get closer by other means: through the student council, at first, it only causes gun to think that tinn hates him and wants to put more distance because he does not want the school president to end his club. and then, the times gun looks for him it’s usually to ask him for favors, like when he asks him to extend the deadline to look for more concerts in which the club music could perform. he even tells tinn that if he helps him, he will talk to him more times, which indicates that they really didn't used to interact that much and gun is aware of that, tinn has been someone he has seen in the classes but they are not necessarily close.

when tinn sings with gun to help him and tells him that he is doing it so he can win hot wave, gun can see that he can trust tinn again, considering that he had already tried when he asked tinn to help him with the instruments, but he felt sad and mad when he saw that tinn helped the orchestra, and that makes sense, because from his point of view he perceived that. after that, gun begins to open up to tinn.

i think gun could have had an interest at first because he knew tinn was the head of the class in that year, and unlike him, tinn is a smart person who can be noticed by other people for that and not for causing trouble like gun, he is not a a student who misbehaves like gun. so he could have been looking at tinn but not because he was romantically interested at that time.

i could even say that gun could look at tinn because tinn is handsome. but if this was the case, there would still be no love interest on gun’s side, since being attracted to someone is not the same as liking that person. overall, I think gun developed his feelings afterwards, and the fact that gun knew that tinn was looking at him it’s because gun could noticed that tinn looked at him a lot, but at that time, he didn't know why he was looking at him, and when tinn confessed to him, he realized that it was because of tinn liked him.

and when gun speaks, he never mentions what time he is referring to, it could be the two years, or the current year where they began to get closer, and with what we have seen (which is mostly the current year in the series), tinn has been more attentive in that last year compared to the others because he has a strong intention of getting closer to gun. and before it was difficult for him because he did not know how, but being the school president, he has many ways to help gun and be by his side. we have seen tinn keep an eye on gun, always be near the music club and looking back at him in class. but mostly, it happened before they confessed their mutual liking, so at that moment, gun could have thought that being the school president, tinn just was looking because he didn't want gun to do something that would damage the reputation of the school.

now if we talk about the other reasons, I perceive them differently. for me, gun gave tinn the ice shaved because he saw him sad. gun is a kind person, if he gave him the ice shaved knowing that tinn was sad, by singing the song maybe he wanted to help him even more to feel a bit better since gun himself says that it is a song for when he feels lonely, and he surely perceived tinn in that way that day.

about the dream, i think it's a way of introducing the viewers, i wouldn't take it so deeply because in the dream we can see gun performs in hot wave and then tinn interrupts him. tinn, the school president, which doesn't make sense because at that time gun didn't know that tinn was going to be the school president, the dream happens before the elections and gun couldn't have known. and in fact, tinn decides that he is going to be the school president because he saw that gun wanted it too to help his club, but tinn wants gun to be able to continue in the band and if he becomes the school president he would have to leave the music club. all of this happens after the dream.

also, we know that tinn’s approach to gun hadn't been “mean” until he wanted to apply to be the school president to help gun and tiw asked him to be strict with him. in the dream, tinn is already “mean” with gun for wanting to stop his performance, but at that time, we know that the only times they had interacted were three and those were when tinn wanted to confess and the shop moment. i don't think gun thought that tinn hated him or wanted to end his club with just that. he thinks about it when he hears the rumors that the student council wants to end his club, what's more, the majority must have assumed it since the one who commented on that was the principal, who is tinn’s mother, and they thought that tinn would want to do the same. but that happens when the principal gives her speech (also after the dream scene).

all along, we have seen that tinn was in love with gun and that by doing things for him he was able to get closer, and gun, by letting him be with him was able to reciprocate his feelings, because he realized that tinn was not looking to hurt him as he thought he wanted when he used to believe the rumors that the school president hated the music club. we even witnessed the beginning of gun's feelings, like when tinn asked him to let him look at him and gun moved away because his heart started beating fast. or when he was listening to "just being friendly" and he wondered if it was possible that there were friends who were waiting for something else to happen in their friendships but didn't say anything, if there were people who hid their love but were still close. until he thought that the he probably was one of those people, someone who was in love with his friend and wanted something more. he wanted to cross the line.

despite everything i said, it is uncertain what will happen in the series, but I just hope that if gun was in love since the beginning, they know how to handle it. i have seen many series that did not convince me because they did not know how to develop these parts. it is also difficult to handle the plot holes, since from the way I see it, it would be difficult to explain why gun used to forget tinn, or why he didn't seem interested in getting closer. i would like to know why his attitudes were so different from now, because now that he likes tinn we can notice that his approach is very different from how it was in the first episodes where one could even think that gun didn't feel quite well with tinn because he seemed to hate him. if he had liked him from the beginning, I don't think he would have acted that way, because he wasn't even shy or strict like tinn, but it just seemed like he had to face a student in order to preserve his club.

on the other hand, if his love began after allowing tinn to get close, i can understand why he was not interested before, since it is normal not to show that interest in people we are not in love to, i would understand why gun believed in the rumors and did not notice that tinn really didnt hated him, i would understand why he felt that tinn did not understand him and only wanted to harm him. and i would understand why when he had the opportunity to meet tinn, gun realized that he was not a bad person, that tinn really wanted to help him. i would understand why gun also began to fall in love with tinn, with his way of loving him, with his personality, with the way he looks at him, with the way he is always by his side, with the way they laugh together, with the way tinn knows how to cheer him up when he feels sad, with the way tinn gets nervous when they're together, with the way in which gun knows that tinn would do everything for him and he would do everything for him.

with all of tinn.

[idkanametoputhere]

MID!!!!

CONGRATS U LIL BUNDLE OF CHAOS !!! MAY MANY MORE FOLLOWERS COME YOUR WAY!!!

*balloons an streamers an confetti galore*

may I request Deuce Spade w/ Young by Vacations? surprise me u chaotic child

AHHHHH THANK U LOVE<33

tbh idk the song so I will leave space here for me to say my thoughts on it after I've listened to it:

OMG IK THIS SONG!!!!

ALSO I am SO SORRY for the delay, the wifi in my village has been out since Saturday morning and now they're trying to fix it but yeah enough with my rambling, ahem

type: angst

pronouns: they/them

character: deuce spade

song inspo: Young by Vacations

tw: cussing, me taking inspiration from real life, how I imagine delinquent deuce

this fic is part of my 100 followers event

masterlist&lt;3

if you ask anyone if they have a childhood best friend, the majority of people will say that they did

deuce spade is one of them, a guy with an oh so supportive best friend who managed to get him out of trouble while still having fun

or well, at least he had a friend like that, you know, before he pushed them away

"Another day goes by

And where was I?"

it was sad to be honest, or more specifically lonely. the friend they had supported all their life, the friend they had turned to whenever they were sad, the friend whose side they stood by through thick and thin had pushed them aside

their blue haired friend was going through a "phase" as you could call it, he wanted to be perceived as a troublemaker, a tough guy who did mischevious deeds. and being friends with someone who had the reputation of a sweetheart was not really fitting for that reputation. and so the two unspeakable friends were suddenly separated

meanwhile the friend kept coming back

"Didn't think I'd still be here

Just to make things clear"

they were a fool to put it simply. a fool attached to their childhood dream of having a close friend. and they tried so hard to stay by his side. to keep supporting him through every one of his decisions

but in every relationship, friendship or not, there needs to be mutual affection for it to work. not just one sad fool, a jester in their own castle, who clings to every pice of affection shown towards them as if they'll fall into the abyss if they let go

"What's the use?"

they considered themselves a smart person. someone who can realise when they are unwanted and yet, they couldn't seem to be able to step away from their friend. they were unable to stop themself from checking at their phone, waiting for a text that would signal them hanging out with deuce

"I'm not talking sense"

everyone was worried about them. "it's fine" they claimed. "he's just been busy, so have i" they said. how many excuses have they come up with so they could lie to the ones who cared about them? or maybe they were lying to themself, they needed those lies to be happy

imagine a flower hidden from the sun. it needs the sunlight, but it is not given to the flower. it tried to find it, but someone placed it in the shadows and therefore it can do nothing but try to get close to its beloved sunlight before it dies

except their sun was not rising just so he wouldn't give sunlight to them

"Call it a ruse

On myself"

"hi" one time, they greeted him and he just quicly and awkwardly greeted them back

"hi deuce" another time, this time they got answered with just a small wave

"hi"

"hello"

"hi"

time and time again, they were greeted back by a quick wave and a roll of the eyes, until one day he just started ignoring them, not even sparing them a glance

and all the lies they had been feeding themself to feel better suddenly disappeared and they were able to see the truth

the truth was quite simple, once they were friends, shared every moment together, sad or not, they had made plans together for the future. and now? now they were nothing more than mere strangers, just like they had started

years of friendship down the drain for the sake of being "cool". pretty funny, isn't it?

"I wanted to go"

the worst thing in all of this was probably watching him with his friends at school or outside

for so long it had been them standing by his side, only for them to be replaced?

call them dramatic but losing such a close friend of theirs affected them a lot. it was as if their whole world had crashed down around them and someone was keeping them from rebuilding it

and the years passed like that, with the well-known sweetheart avoiding one person in particular as they focused on everything but him

and then it was time for both of them to be enrolled at the same college, NRC. and -you wouldn't guess- their luck is so good that they were put in the same dorm as deuce

but speaking of deuce, what about him?

"I wanted to say

All things come to pass

With time"

deuce knew he had fucked up. he knew that what he did was horrible, and now that he had gone out of that delinquent phase of his, he wanted to do nothing more than apologise to his old friend

he missed how they took care of any injuries he had after falling, he missed them sharing their lunch cause he forgot his, he missed them listening to him talking. and most of all, he missed their presence. he missed the warm smile they gave him and their melodic laugh

he thought that enough time had passed so that they would move over what happened, forgive and forget and all that. except he hadn't considered how hurt his old friend was, and how stuck on the past they were, for a good reason that is

and so every time he tried approaching them they turned away, avoiding him like that plague

"But I want everything now

To be all mine"

was he asking for too much? he just wanted his friend back! he knew he had wronged them but they could talk it over and make up, just like that! they weren't children anymore, were they? there was no need for petty arguments!

except of course if one of the two had years of pent up anger and pain caused by the other, then petty arguments were the way to go I suppose

"You think it's all over

Get up and try again"

and so it went, argument after argument, one each day. there were countless times when they were collared by their dorm leader because they were causing a ruckus, and he was right to do that

their fights were messy. no insults were thrown at eachother, there was a time when they cared for eachother so they didn't have the heart to be mean to eachother

but there were some ugly remarks being made

"You've got to act your age, darling"

"can't you just listen to me for one second?"

"couldn't you have, you know, not pushed me aside for literally no reason?"

"grow up"

yet another screaming match between the two. not the first one, and probably not the last one either

they say that, if two people are trying to solve a problem, there needs to be proper communication between them. can you see what the two heroes of our story are lacking? just that, exactly

"I was a kid, I was dumb, I get it and I'm sorry" yelled the ravenette, desperate to have his friend back. "good thing you realised you were dumb, but I was also a kid! and I was there for you since we were babies! you pushed me aside deuce, without any reason. you looked at me as if I was a stranger! you ignored me and never even gave me a reason why!" they screamed at his face, their eyes glossy, tears threatening to spill from their anger.

"do you k own how much that hurt? I was lying to everyone -i was lying to my own self for seven's sake- saying that 'oh no we're still friends. he still cares about me'. bullshit!" they kept on yelling as tears started running down their face

and then he realised how much he had hurt them. how much his own stupid actions had fucked up his most valued friendship

"Before you fall back in"

"I'm sorry" was the inky thing he could say the feeling of guilt running through his mind, like a virus infecting a body and making it weak, only able to respond to said virus

guilt, shame, regret, despair

he realised he had opened pandora's box, and he didn't know if there was hope at the bottom of it.

a/n: okay I got a bit carried away BUT CAN U BLAME ME? ITS A GOOD SONG THAT GIVES ME GREAT INSPIRATION AND I HAD NO INTERNET

[betchasnatcher]

tell about the fashion of the characters. i mean. what style of clothes does badge, snatcher and cc ( or other ) also what aesthetics would you associate w them. ( for example. cc likes cottagecore vanilla, snatcher emo punk, etc. )

Aaaaaaaaa hi you asked this on may 5 . i waited to be granted a vision to forward to you but brain machine function appears to have been compromised. So you get my true words coming from my actual self this time . content warning for: i am allergic to using -core stuff and have become increasingly more embarrassed of naming unrelated words to create a feeling through associations buildup so this is , not very well put together. you live in my world. also 70% of this is snatcher

i used to be crazy in head over warm cute winter clothing snatcher, like scarves hats (especially those covering ears but not necessarily ushankas) sweaters..... as a way to, deal with the cold vanessa continuously inflicts onto the forest, and him. not to mention hes somewhat overexposed to it through having to directly contain it. i commonly see people associate him with fire warmth summer etc whatever but to be honest i dont find portraying her and vanessa as inherent opposites compelling. i suppose snatcher embracing his inner warmth is a sweet narrative to enact but personally i gravitated more towards accommodation for that cold / hurt and valuing his own comfort. but thats his clothing style

aesthetic wise, i know theyre the "creepy smiling person thing" living in the "scary forest" but i do not, and have never, cared about halloween, so i actually sort of forget its the aesthetic the game assigns them. generally i suppose any creepy thing could suit them, like creepy cute stuff. subconites are very creepy cute . dolls dresses witchy stuff etcccccc i dont actually know . skull with bow . so while i cannot really do justice to the aesthetic in my portrayal , i acknowledge it at last . i am actually a little ashamed in being sincerely unable to view or acknowledge it for so long . whatever. my own personal thoughts are those of his stupid idiot male living space tree. shouldve put a carpet on a wall at least. its so empty . i gueeeeessss its cuuuteeee how its warmly lit and has its own music but um shrugs i dont feel about it . its still funny and pathetic to me . sorry about the amount of hating in this reply idk what to talk about and i feel bad about letting asks sit in my inbox. uuuuhhhhhhhh

cellar cold wet horrible compromised gnawed on brick walls snow snowflake isolated rotting stupid gay . is something i portray a lot. but its honestly kind of painful to reduce my art containing it to a purely aesthetic enjoyment or intent. because as i have developed and changed i think its fair to say it evolved into more of a tool to portray feelings too serious to me to even mislabel, even momentarily. probably less even feelings and more very specific places in my soul that by definition refuse to be contained to aesthetic association of sensation or whatnot. texture temperature color. the way i perceive the thing changes but it remains. "some things dont feel like anything else" or whatever. so i cant really talk in depth about what defines the aesthetic of that part of his life, or the aesthetic of any thing really. i used to be super confused about what people on the internet mean by 'aesthetic of something' and then i briefly grasped it and now its lost again

hat kid. i super like her spaceship i think its very cute . people associate her w space and cartoon star and crescent and clocks (of course) i have not personally considered that but i enjoy the vision :)

i associate mu with seaside stuff, shells and whatnot. comfy loose clothing. shes probably a 'day' kind of person

[goremet-chef]

me feeling guilty for not saving someone in my dream like i

if i knew what was going on i wouldve got him im so sorry man if it happened too fast and i shouldve known i shouldve called out or grabbed him but i just panicked and ran and he fucking died because of me

i know i shouldnt be so upset, it was only a dream, but

my dreams are very vivid, and it doesnt help that like. when im stressed, i dissociate, and my brain tends to wander to the worst possible scenario, and itll stick. i find it really really hard to pull myself out of it because to me, what happens in my head seems just as real, maybe even MORE real than what happens irl

so even if its been hours since the stressful event, i might still be just as stressed (maybe even more stressed) because im stuck in a "what if" scenario that will play itself out fully and its hard to shake it off

that happened in my dream, something bad happened at our highschool and even after i escaped and ran to my friends house, i was in her house and crying and begging for her help because i could still hear the screams and shit even though i was far away and safe

i think THATS what really fucked with me, my brain playing off of my own trauma response and applying it to my dreams just made it so real, cuz yeah i am stuck in horrible events typically, any time they happen im stuck there even after they end, stuck in a spiral of what couldve happened if things got worse you feel me?

even after im awake and its been several hours i still feel that same dread, its making it hard to breathe

the worst part? the dream was so good at first. i was friends with a youtuber i watch and we went to school together and i sat with his friends on the first day cuz he invited me and they were accepting of me being trans and i fit right in immediately as one of the guys. i was so happy man. it felt so fucking good to just be seen as i am, for someone to be EXCITED to know me, even if i was new

its something i struggle with constantly, i just never really fit in no matter where i go. even when i make friends, and things seem to be going great, ill second guess myself and step away. ill perceive rejection where there isnt any and ill assume they dont want me around, etc. its a never ending cycle of me being unable to keep anything good, its so.

AGGRAVATING it suck ass. sometimes its not even me! i know i say this a lot but i mean it genuinely when i say that normal people find me offputting and weird immediately. there is no second guessing, there is no oh maybe ill get to know him, NO. i freak people out with my mannerisms alone, and its really sad. i didnt have hardly any friends in highschool since i moved from my hometown to go, i made a total of 4 over the course of 3 years, and of those 4, 3 moved away. my last year was the saddest loneliest thing ever, all my teachers thought i was depressed and thought i wanted to kill myself so they were all nice to me and checking on me. it was so humiliating? to be so isolated that people NOTICE yr isolated

nevermind when i started hallucinating, that was soo great 😁 really loved that era /s

my life has been drowned out with such a profound loneliness that i dont even know where to start to combat it. it hurts my heart to think about it. to think about the jealousy and embarrassment i felt for the longest time when i realized my closest friends, my ONLY friends, had friends outside of me. that no matter what, even in a group as weird as us, id be the weirdest and i wouldnt be as charming as them, i couldnt keep a conversation like them and so all i had was them

now i do have other friends, but its still.. i dont know how to talk. and i know i make posts like this every once and a while but i guess im just? im a very low maintenance friend i guess. if we're friends, i will always like you. if we dont fall out in some sort of way, i will always hold you close to my heart. even if we dont talk much, i still love you

i dont really know how to like? ENGAGE i struggle with engaging. im alone all the time so i just talk about myself and my things in my own channel, i live through my characters most of my day. i feel like i might be a bad friend? as much as i like to insist i can handle someone and i know what its like to feel rejection and shit cuz of bpd, i think im still not good. i dont know how to engage with someone, i wanna have a meaningful conversation but if its not about my stuff, im bad at responding. i care!! i swear i do, i just dont know how to make that super clear, cant ask questions cant do any of that i just try to make it clear that i want to hear more yknow? i guess im just used to talking nonstop to myself so i just figure thats how other people like to have conversations too, but i think im wrong

idk it sucks. my heart is heavy today. im gonna try and draw cuz i want to but theres just so many things. im stressed, is all

[cigaretterry]

i just... i really hate men.

theres this guy i hooked up with like a fucking year ago now and it went... its so complicated to explain but just it didnt go well and the fall out after was rlly bad and emotional and he treated me rlly shitty.

anyway we ended up talking about it and apologized to each other and agreed to move on (multiple times... bc we, but especially him, seem to be unable to fully let it go smh). we agreed to just forget it and act like it never happened, again multiple times. and the last time we talked about it we said THIS was gonna be the last time we're done putting it to rest we're fully going to be normal w each other and he said he wanted to be friends.

but he just still... cant treat me like a normal person. hes either flirting with me, or avoiding me and acting awkward. im just so tired of it being weird. ive tried rlly hard to forgive him for the past and feel like i finally have now and try rlly hard to be normal and friendly and get along, but i feel like he keeps us in this cycle of weirdness.

one thing that irritates me (but also flatters me ngl) is that he acts jealous anytime he perceives me to be flirting with another man. a couple months ago i, according to him, said "hi" to another guy in a "flirty tone" and it turned into him accusing me of wanting to fuck that guy IN FRONT OF HIM. we started arguing in front of this poor dude 😭 which is is just so ridiculous i cant even wrap my mind around it.

last week im talking to the same guy he accused me of wanting to have sex with, and the guy i hooked up with walks into the bar we're at. hes just glaring at us from one seat over and the guy tried to say hi to him, but he was extremely rude and just kept glaring at us and making nasty faces. the guy asked him to come say hey and he said "no." and just kept glaring and making nasty faces in a super obvious manor. the guy i was talking with said "this is weird... im feeling rlly uncomfortable." then got up and left. then the guy i hooked up w came over to me and hugged me and asked if that guy and i had been talking shit about him (like girl why tf would we be talking about you) and proceeded to hit on me the rest of the night.

yesterday he came into my job and i went to give him a goodbye hug when he was leaving (which we almost always do when we see each other) and he made a screwed up face and said "you and your hugs..." but not in a joking manor he seemed genuinely disgusted and annoyed and then gave me the most reluctant hug in history as if he isnt the one initiating the hugging half, if not most, of the time. like. okay.

[jardaddy-a]

˗ˏˋ🌹❀┊ ( MISS VAL )

❦ ~ It was like she was unable to sit still at all, like just being on display like this was enough to make her want to jump right out of her skin as she sat on that small stool to lend her likeness for this portrait. Though she was ever so uncomfortable right now, she wanted to help, so she did not move from the seat she has taken, though she also was not able to completely still her movements. She felt bad for the young girl & how she had to capture such a nervous subject, one who would be easier to draw if they are not so jittery. The girl behind the canvas  seems to not be bothered in the slightest with this, just going about her business of creating her art. The smile she bore was the only thing that really was still, though that was because she was doing what she could to make her cheeks as tight as she could so that the taut skin did not move & disrupt the translation from her to the paper.

Valerie is glad that the woman is more focused on the sheet than on her, so Valerie slightly is able to relax when she does not feel the scrutiny of another’s eyes on her, even if they are soft & warm & welcoming. The silence did help, since she had to be stoic, so she did not have to try & make conversation. Before Valerie even had to wonder how long she has to keep herself in this position, It seems the girl did not take that long. Still, it was enough time for Valerie having held her breath a few times when she forgot to breathe, though she is back on track now.

When she is done, Valerie once again smooths down her clothes, though they have not been rumpled in the process. Valerie waits for the paper to be shown to her, curious to see if she was that good of a model for a drawing. Valerie focuses again on the other when she calls to her about having a look, shaky legs supporting her as she makes her way to the canvas to assess what had been created. At first, Valerie is in awe; that could not be her, that was stunning; her likeness was plain as could be. The other got everything down, from every detail that could have been perceived. It was amazing, & she did not think she could ever look so …. beautiful, elegant even, even though she was nothing but restless.

Her expression was a stand out, it was unsure but also bright, shy and meek but … charming ? It was like it was her, but it was a better version of her; like the other caught an image of her that was much better than the her that was here physical self, better translated to something so flat like a drawing. She looks over the details, her eyes widening at how wonderful this is. It is touching as well, that the other took the time to do this. Her eyes water a bit, & she wipes the corners of her eyes. “ It …. it is w—wond—wonderful. ” she says gently, unable to comprehend how this was her. “ T—Thank you, this …. “ she is speechless, not uncommon for her, but in the moment, her heart is so full. ~ ❦ @demurc​

          ˗ˏˋ🌹❀┊ ( * THE LOVELY ROSERED ) ━ INITIALLY UNNERVED BY THE SILENCE , the child briefly wondered if she had done something offensive with the artwork .      A ROSY GAZE studies the awe , the widening of eyes , the disbelief , the perusal of charcoal features mirroring her own 3D structure ;  panic flares at the tears that pooled from her subject’s eyelids , but the child’s dainty shoulders lose its tension as Valerie stuttered out praises in a watery glee .     RELIEF comes out as a soft sigh     &&.    Rosered found herself free of burdens , her back once again rests over plush fabric .  

          ˗ˏˋ🌹❀┊ ( * ROSERED ) ━  ❝ i’m glad you like it , mademoiselle val .  ❞ THE GIRL PLEASANTLY REPLIES , pale cheeks blossoming with peached silver .      ROSERED avoids brushing across fresh graphite with her fingers , out of fear that she would blemish the maiden’s drawn visage .      THE CHILD PAUSED TO PEER over both sides of her arm chair as she safely slid the sketchpad over to the table , allowing Valerie to continue admiring the work in peace .      SHE PULLED an empty black frame to her lap , unclasping the metal plate at the back of the rectangular fixture , ❝ would you like for me to frame this ?  ❞ SHE OFFERED , swinging her legs over the height of her chair , lips tilted upward in anticipation .     ❝ this is so the artwork can be safely preserved .      you can also hang this up on the wall of your room . ❞ SHE ADDS . 

          ˗ˏˋ🌹❀┊ ( * ROSERED ) ━  SHE PULLED THE SKETCHBOOK OVER THE GLASSED FRAME , loosening golden binds , she began to gently tug the piece of paper free , leaving the page spotless of any unsightly crinkles , ❝ also you don’t need to pay for anything , think of it as a uhm . . .  a gift ! ❞

[incommasplices]

we may and will perish

i have spent much of my life oscillating between two states of being, feeling at times numb and empty, at others, overwhelmed by the elements. from where i lain in mental slumber, i would arise in profound awareness of my surroundings, from the hot caress of the sun against my shoulders to the stranger smiling to themselves mid-bite in the cafeteria. they have a life of their own, and thoughts i cannot begin to fathom — thoughts like mine, perhaps. often, i catch the line between emptiness and repletion beginning to fade. as i stand in the atrium, familiar and unfamiliar faces passing me by, i feel with a deep intensity how plentiful life is, yet so rare, how full life is, yet so insubstantial, and mostly, i feel how different it is for everyone, yet exactly the same. by the time i get on the metro, echoes of buddhist texts ring in my mind, and I understand then, that emptiness is not the absence of life, but how all life is related to and dependent on others (Leighton [1] 74). emptiness depends on connectedness, just as connectedness depends on emptiness. nothing anyone or anything does is isolated from the whole, neither is my melancholy. rather, it is shared by all those i can see, and those i cannot.

i reach this conclusion twice a week, and still, three times a week, i revert into numbing emptiness, climbing the stairs from the metro to the school entrance feeling not part of a whole but an outsider entirely: a non-being only wishing to be. i was raised a happy child by my mother and my grandmother, both of whom lived through the khmer rouge regime where survival was the only thing that mattered. despite the bloodshed, the unsurmountable loss, and the enduring trauma, they seem to find contentment in the fact they are alive. in survival mode, identity development matters little. i was brought up with this mindset. going to elementary school with peers from war-torn areas whose parents went through similar horrors, we all had a sense that although we may never understand their pain, it lived on in us. i went on to study in a high school with a vastly different community. there, i made friends with people whose parents grew up with dreams of their own and well-rounded identities. they in turn encouraged their children to form theirs. meanwhile, my mother spent her youth dreaming of a bowl of rice and of a single chinese sausage, later putting her entire life’s work in making sure i have as many as i could ever want. it became clear to me that despite the love i hold for my friends, having not gone through their apprenticeship, i could never be like them, and despite the love i hold for my mother and grandmother, having not gone through their suffering, i could never be like them either. if i cannot relate to the people I love, who am i, then? a book without a story? who is this empty “i” that has caused me so much pain in attempting to figure out, fill up, and cling on to, and “[w]hat am i to do with this great demon?” (Santideva 9)

in buddhism, attachment is at the origin of human suffering, whether it be to objects, people, principles, or even our own identity, because although we may momentarily be satisfied, we are bound to want more out of everything and ultimately lose all of them. essentially, it is an “unquenchable thirst” (Gethin [2] 70). my attachment to wanting to be defined poisons me, because whenever i find myself, it only lasts so long before the “i” i found transforms and disappears, fleeting as it is. these are the circumstances of all sentient beings: ephemerality, impermanence, a kind of suffering known as dukkha as condition (Gethin [1] 61). my attachment to an identity I have not yet found and my desire to be perceived in that still unknown way have been a hindrance in so far as it left me unable to enjoy existence as it is. desire of all kinds and forms promotes suffering and ignorance because it generally blinds people to their actions, which are harmful to themselves and others. in society, desire for belonging and sense of identity, both recurrent themes in art, are not seen as detrimental but as a normal part of coming of age, while buddhism warns against attachment as everything eventually passes. still, i believe desire can bring us momentary joy and comfort. the socializing efforts i put into obtaining what it is i desire seem worth it when i find they helped others feel better, which in turn helps me get a sense of security in who i might be. though the sensation may and will pass, it was still there. perhaps what matters most lies in channeling the hindrance of desire for good, whatever we define good as, both for ourselves and others. and though the fruits of that desire for good may and will perish, at least, they would have been there, and that in itself is better than nothing.

[...]

for all one knows, then, maybe identity was never about finding myself like a new scarf at the store but finding the cause i am willing to become a vessel for. identity is something i can choose through my actions, as i am “the owner of my actions, heir to my actions, born of my actions” (Subjects for Contemplation 3). each step i make towards trying to become a better person is a step i make towards finding purpose, as “[a]ll such people, / Gradually gaining merit, / And developing their great compassion, / Have fulfilled the Buddha way” (The Lotus Sutra [2] 1). the road will continue long after mine has stopped, but this cannot discourage me to keep going on, to keep waking up from my mental slumbers, and to keep searching for myself, not in the reflection i see in other people’s eyes but within my own body and perceptions. when i finally get out of the metro on sunny spring days and hear the birds chirping like it is the first and last time; when good sensations wash over me the traces of a seemingly unending sorrow, the brevity of life hits me the hardest. in those moments, i have the heart to forgive others’ ancestors for the pain caused to my ancestors, and i have the heart to forgive my ancestors for the pain caused to others’ ancestors. in those moments, sunbathed in the corner of the street, waiting patiently for the light to turn green, in the dawn of the good i want so desperately to give, i have the heart to forgive myself for not yet knowing who i am, knowing that i will become.

[yandere-sins]

"Stop fucking looking at me like that!"

Referencing this post I made, I thought why not :’D

»»———————— ♡ ————————««        

Rummaging through the big chest, Enderman supplied it with the new items he gathered. Meat, vegetables, a potion for the worst case. Buckets of water and milk, everything you needed to have as a human. It should be enough to last at least for the upcoming weak, but you had been complaining about it rotting and molding since you couldn’t eat it fast enough or preserve it. You were also craving fruits. Biting his lip, he thought hard about how to accommodate your wishes better when he suddenly heard the growling of a zombie nearby, making him come to an immediate stop.

If he was quiet enough, the zombie shouldn’t be able to make you out inside this little, sparely filled room he created. No one said it would be easy to accumulate enough obsidian to build this hut. Still, it was the only way to keep you safe, even if it took him forever. All these monsters and treacherous villagers outside were after you, and even if he was able to keep them at bay for a long time, what if one day he couldn’t be around to keep you from harm? Perhaps it wasn’t a very pretty domicile, but it was safe. The only light source was one window, but he built it high enough so no zombie, skeleton, or creeper would be able to look through it. He collected a bed for you, chests, and books from the village, but that was all there was to keep you busy.

Enderman listened intently, waiting for the footsteps and grunts to disappear before he could let out a sigh of relief. Even with all the precautions he made, one could never be too safe. Even if he wasn’t worried about himself, if it was for you, he’d do everything to keep you far away from the dangerous mobs roaming the world. Continuing to pack your chest with edibles, he didn’t notice you slowly waking up, rising behind him. Enderman made a point out of coming at night rather than day to avoid the one thing that made him uncomfortable. While he would have loved interacting with you, the human custom of keeping eye contact was something he could never bear to endure. Not even for you.

Even now, your eyes drilling into his back, he began to shake anxiously, hoping you’d recognize him and go back to sleep.

But you didn’t.

You never did.

“It’s late,” he chuckled nervously, slowly closing the lid of the chest before standing up. He had to raise the ceiling quite a bit after realizing he couldn’t fit the space after he built it. Even if he could teleport in and out at his leisure, with his size, it would have been hard to stay with you in an emergency had he kept it at his first draft. But he learned that humans quite liked high ceilings, and secretly he hoped that meant you liked him too, considering his size.

“You should be sleeping. I brought new food, so you can rest assured.”

Was he just talking to overcome the awkwardness? You’ve been nearly killing him with this silent treating of yours, only ever looking at the back of his head. It was unfathomable why you’d treat him with such disrespect. He had voiced his discomfort more than once, but you insisted that you hated his treatment of you, and as such, he’d have to endure the same. But how could you? All of this was only ever in your best interest. Out there, you’d have done the same to keep safe - build a home and gathered food - so why did you hate it when he did it? Wasn’t he good to you? Didn’t he try his best to fulfill all your wishes? Was it too much to ask for that you were safe under his care?

“Please stop,” he whispered with clenched teeth, the shaking of his body getting stronger. “What more do I need to do to make you stop looking at me like that?”

“Let me go,” you finally spoke up, the sound of your voice almost as beautiful as he remembered it--no, even better! A quiet gasp escaped him after finally receiving a word from you, and he turned around for the first time in forever to face you.

A big mistake.

Your eyes met as Enderman suddenly felt overcome with a wave of emotions. He wished it had been only positive ones, but there was no way he could escape his instincts. Doubling over in pain, he grunted, trying to keep himself under control, but to no avail. Even in his state, he could clearly perceive the shuffling of blankets as you got up, noticing the state he was in. Though he wanted to believe you cared for him, it was clear you were merely concerned about what to do if something happened to him. But that would be enough. Even if you just liked him for his use, it would be enough to satisfy him. As long as he could keep you safe, you could use him as much as he wanted.

The obsidian made no sound as he gripped you by the wrists, slamming you into the wall. Your body, on the other hand, made an absolutely horrifying crack, so much so, Enderman feared the worst already. But one look at your eyes showed them clear as day, still very much able to perceive him. Perhaps adrenaline soothed your pain momentarily.

“Stop fucking looking at me like that! I told you so many times to fucking stop! When will you listen?!”

His yell filled the whole space around you two. If he hadn’t been seething with anger, he’d have instantly regretted raising his voice. No less because it could have attracted unwanted visitors. Enderman had never lashed out at you before, never done anything that would put you into the opposite of what he wanted - danger. But here he was, eyes falling to your mouth as your breath hitched, unable to form a word. All you did - finally! - was looking down and away from him before pinching your eyelids close tightly.

Immediately, he felt much calmer, now that you weren’t drilling holes into him anymore. Regaining his senses, he let go of you, letting you plummet back onto the bed he held you above. Whether or not you were in pain wasn’t something either of you seemed to notice. Instead, you were quick to hug yourself, fearful tears rolling from the closed corners of your eyes despite no sobs escaping you. You had no weapons to defend yourself, and a punch didn’t do as much as one of his did to you. It must have been a big shock for you to see the other side of Enderman, one you had a hard time comprehending.

Placing his hand on your shoulder, you flinched noticeably before finally breaking down into crying, collapsing forward onto the mattress. Enderman stood there lost for words or actions to console you, wanting to say something, apologize even! It didn’t matter who’s fault it was, he never wanted to see you hurt or crying! That’s why he did all of this after all!

Instead, he remembered the peculiar thing he found in one of the villages. It was a banner, something he thought you might enjoy hanging up in your tiny home, but when he reached for it now, he had a different idea of what to do with it. Ripping off the bottom wasn’t easy even for him, especially since he allowed no tools or scissors in this safe space. But once he had it, he returned to your side, kneeling next to your bed and lifting your head gently. You tried to turn your face away, but he had a tight grip on you, nudging you to face him. Good as you were, you kept your eyes closed still.

Even if he couldn’t be sure how to do it, he loosely tied the cloth around your head, covering your eyes with it. “W-What…?” you stuttered meekly, feeling the fabric on your skin, and Enderman hushed you gently. “This will do. You won’t be able to look at me this way. You’ll never need to be afraid anymore; this will keep you safe, I promise.”

Whether his assurance went through to you, he couldn’t decide, unable to read your expression as you bit your lip. Your body began to shake again, and it felt almost like his whenever you made him uncomfortable and anxious. Enderman knew this feeling all too well, but you wouldn’t need to bear it alone. He could if he had to, but he wouldn’t let you go through these complicated feelings alone.

Easily, with inhuman strength, he picked you up, sitting down where you had been just seconds ago, and lifted you into his lap. Finally, his big body and long arms were good for something, even if he hadn’t expected it would be comforting you. If it was for him, you two could have continued the relationship you had. Enderman would have simply stayed by your side while you slept, brushing the hair out of your face and pulling up the blanket over you to make sure you had a good rest. You didn’t need to recognize his efforts, and you could even scream at him if you’d prefer that, but it wouldn’t have mattered. He knew you were safe and well-taken care of, and he’d never forget you needed him. That was enough.

But now that he held you in his arms, he wasn’t sure if it was enough for him anymore.

Now that this awful habit of looking at him had been prevented, nothing was stopping him from being close to you. Now he could touch you, hold you, comfort you tenderly! All without fearing what might happen. “It’s going to be alright now,” he hushed you sweetly. “I’m so sorry I lashed out, I will do everything to make it up to you! I’ll bring new books and flowers to decorate with soon, everything will be okay. You can always rely on me; I’ll keep you company from now on, trust me!”

He meant it. Even if he didn’t understand most of the complicated feelings you had, you must have felt relieved as you started to cry even more. And so was he. He was relieved too. Who knew being with you so close, holding you, and swaying back and forth with you felt so wonderful. The only other time he held you, felt your warmth and heartbeat, had been when he teleported you inside of this room. Enderman had always believed that to be the height of all emotions, but he now realized there was so much more! So many more opportunities and feelings to explore. But you had time, right? He wouldn’t be greedy; he’d take his time to explore them all with you and enjoy them thoroughly.

After all, you were safest with him.

And he was the happiest with you.

[obriengf]

Can I please get close and confess from the prompt list with Dylan or Stiles.

send me a PROMPT for a 'yearn for you' blurb -

[ CLOSE ] : sender and receiver find themselves unexpectedly close to one another.

[ CONFESS ] : sender confesses their feelings for receiver. (W/ STILES)

"Could you stop doing that?" You sneered, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, ears thumping from every piercing click of Stiles' pen. You looked across to him as he sat at his desk, your own body laying stomach down on his bed with your feet held in the air. Friday night study sessions were a usual thing for the two of you; especially as you've somehow managed to find yourselves in the exact same classes since the first grade. The immense amount of energy that Stiles always harboured would keep him on his toes as he waited for your arrival - his lanky frame practically bouncing off the walls around seven o'clock when you'd arrive punctually with two pizzas and a bag full of study materials.

Stiles' eyes flicked toward you immediately, the tone of your voice provoking a mischievous smirk to tug at his lips. He hummed nonchalantly, "Stop doing what? I dunno what you're talking about." He knew exactly what was setting you off - unfortunately, it was just an absentminded habit that he gained when studying, his thumb clicking on the end of his pen continuously as he thought in deep concentration. In all fairness, he didn't even know that he was doing it until a few weeks ago, and on the other hand, it never usually bothered you either until this moment. He perceived it as you simply experiencing an abundance of stress, your week not being the easiest so far. Stiles did like to wind you up and push all of your buttons, but realizing that something was off with your demeanor managed to pull him back a few notches. He was worried.

Your lack of verbal response, and instead replaced by a grunt of frustration, solidified his predictions and prompted him to stand from his swivel chair and make his way toward you. The mattress dropped with the addition of his weight and you tried to ignore the way he was leaning toward you, his eyes soft and full of admiration. Stiles flickered his gaze over the tense expression you wore well, wishing that he could wrap his arms around your frame and press a multitude of kisses over every inch of exposed skin. He also wanted to do much much more to you, but restraining himself was the only option, especially as he hadn't told you about the crush he'd been harboring for over a year now.

His thoughts carried him into a daze, your voice unable to reach him as you made an effort to break him from it. It wasn't until your hand grasped the pillow behind you, your arm swinging with such intensity that when the soft fabric hit him, Stiles fell to the side. He realeased a loud cry, situated as playful not painful, as his hand held to his head. "Did you just fucking hit me with a pillow? Oh... oh you're gonna get it, Y/N. You're playing a losing game." His voice was a declaration, the smirk toying at his lips sure to be a permanent feature by the time he was done with you. An involunatry giggle escaped you, the first sign of happiness that he had seen inn a few days.

Stiles copied your earlier actions by grabbing the nearest pillow and whacking it against your shoulder, an oompf sound resonating in the small space. It was on. Countless throws and whacks of feather filled pillows brought a new happiness to your day, his room quickly filling with chuckles and chortles, gasps and fun-loving threats. It got serious when you both eventually stood from his bed and he chased you within the four corners of his room, small squeals pushing through your lips whenever you nearly tripped over the odd book, or his baseball bat. The pillow in your grasp long forgotten as it was now just about him hot on your heels. One final blow from Stiles and you were soon covered in raining soft feathers. Your mouth fell ajar, mildly shocked at the small explosion. The boy's bottom lip was caught between his teeth before his shoulders quivered in a laugh.

Your eyes followed the feathers as they continued to fall, dancing through the air in a small moment of magic. You didn't even see your friend as he wrapped an arm around your waist and dropped you onto his bed, is frame hovering over you. His lip was slightly wet and swollen after he released it, his own honey-glazed eyes focusing on the odd couple of white quills sticking from your hair. He picked one out and held it between your faces, ticking your noses from the close proximity. A gentle blow of air from your rounded lips blew it away and Stiles was immediately drawn to them. His heart thumped; reverberating behind his ribs, the feelings he had for you growing more by the second. You destroyed him in the best way possible, and he wanted more. He wanted you.

He drew a deep breath, "I'm not very subtle, you know. I kinda word vomit everything too, and I can't help it. It's a nervous thing. I constantly make an idiot of myself, which is probably what I'm doing now, but honestly I really can't stop myself and at the same time I really don't want to... because what I feel is important to me. It means a lot to me, Y/N... you mean a lot to me, and not just as my friend." His words were fast, voice high-pitched. He wasn't wrong about the word vomit thing, you thought, but it made you smile. You gulped, anticipating where this was going, and happy that he was finally making the first step. It was hard to not also feel so strongly about such a loving boy, but you also knew that in order for him to get over his anxiety, he had to say it first.

You nodded gently for him to continue, and he took another deep breath, a smile tugging at his lips, nose brushing against yours. Stiles' voice grew quiet and slow, "I really like you. We've been going through so much shit lately and it was never the right time, but seeing you so sad made me realize that I wanted to do everything in my power to make you smile. I wanted to be the reason you smiled, and laughed, the reason you felt loved every single day. And I totally get it if I'm reaching here and you don't feel the same-"

"Shut up and kiss me, Stiles, you're talking too much." You interjected, met with a breathless chuckle and wide grin as he closed that minimal gap and pressed his lips to yours. You sighed out in content, your hands holding his cheeks and offering a harder push of your mouth against his. It's briefness was caused by you pulling back prematurely, tongue darting out to lick over the taste he left behind, "By the way, I really like you too, just in case that wasn't clear..."

Stiles whined, "Good. That means I can do this from now on." The welcomed trail of his tongue over your bottom lip caused you to moan softly, and you knew that if he kept going down this path, then you'd both be very happy together.

[pangtasias-atelier]

Endless (W)eight

Well this story kinda ended up changing a rather bit from what I initially planned lol. But I am kinda content with how this was especially cause struggling to write immense sizes. Of which this is cause I kinda just kept making Freyr fatter and fatter lol. 

This was meant to be like a semi sorta sequel to the Joshua Gerik story I wrote but this isn’t even really summer themed anymore. If you do understand the reference with the title, I love you. Anyways, enjoy but please do not fucking perceive me cause while this is far from horny or anything this is self indulgent and feels kinda weird since it isn’t the same characters I gush over and also cause this is like the biggest I've written lol

Askr's Order of Heroes enjoying a now endless summer, the revelry continues to increase throughout the weeks just as the heroes' waistlines. Heroes summoned from the beginning of the Order's creation to those summoned during the current reigning peace partake in the merriment alike. No hero quite forced into enjoying themselves and their time, the bit of nudging from the food's addictive nature and decreased metabolism only strengthens the feeling laying dormant inside a hero, one particular new recruit is completely absorbed in enjoying themselves to the fullest.

The King of dreams, Freyr, appears nothing like he once used to. The God who governs dreams appears to be enjoying his own blissful, hedonistic dream. Never having eaten a morsel of human food in his entirety of living, he more than makes up for it now, Freyr having eaten more food in his short time of being summoned to Askr than any  human could possibly imagine in their lifetimes.

Absolutely corpulent, Freyr's overwhelming fatness is enough to put even whales to shame. Unable to move unlike a whale, Freyr's size is simply from pure, unabashed hedonism. So content and obsessed with stuffing his face with the divine delicacies produced by humans, his ballooning waistline had been of zero importance to him. It still is, what with his ever ongoing display of wanton gluttony. Immobile several millions of calories ago, Freyr's current appetite is enough to put the entire Order to shame. Far more than even a dozen times over. Unable to get up and move around, the same is true for the entirety of Freyr's castle crushing weight. His hands and feet are gone in their entirety. They're absorbed and smothered under the enormity of his weight. The near same is true for even his head with his numerous flabby back rolls and engorged cheeks. An overly ridiculous amount of fat is caked all over his blubbery, rotund form. His appendages are just as useless as the rest of his bloated body. In a constant euphoric dreamlike state, Freyr has no need to do anything besides enjoying himself. Especially with the aid of the summoner. Kiran perfectly willing in enabling the perpetuation of Freyr's overconsumption, the summoner is able to at least transport Freyr from place to place through magic. Albeit at an increasingly concerning amount of magical and physical strain on Kiran's part with so much required to move the meaty mountain that is Freyr. And at the cost of creating more monumental goat sized craters throughout Zenith with every transportation. Not that anyone is able to tell that Freyr is a goat. His once magnificent horns appear to be nothing more than sad little stubs on the overflowing stack of pancakes of a man. Not like most would even be able to discern Freyr as a human either, the man more akin to a gelatinous blob. Completely nude, all people get upon the sight of Freyr is a staggeringly wide wall of blubber. Clothes had been forwent long ago. Not that anyone could remember; Freyr's sheer weight alone is more concerning for everyone else. All his fancy adornments are no more. His bright lei had been torn asunder from his several chin folds and doughy neck. His pristine white shawl had fallen off from his melon breasts and ample back tore the strap. His gold bracelets snapped in half by his overburdened arms and calves. And his flowing lower garments which grew too tight for his widened rear and hips. Clothes too much of a hassle back then, the time and material needed to clothe Freyr now makes a shirt back then seem like an expert working on a simple scarf.

The beach no longer suitable for Freyr, what with the sun's heat combined with his own overabundant body heat, Kiran had brought him to Nifl. The icy cold region suits him perfectly. A nice freezing temperature provided year-round, the nice cooling helps keep him from feeling like a furnace about to explode all the time. Nifl also a rather sparsely populated country, Kiran had moved him to the absolute most desolate place. It had taken a modicum of convincing on Kiran's part at first, Freyr unwilling to hide his splendor and immensity from humans. Until Kiran cajoled him throughout several talks, reminding him that his enormity can be seen from those all around him from great, vast distances and that the move was only to ensure him a proper space to grow comfortably. Freyr large enough to fill up and destroy the entirety of Askr castle from his abundant acres of adipose back when he had first been magically transported to Nifl, his efforts in simply grazing and lazing worked wonders on his body, Freyr now large enough to occupy Nohr's Castle Krakenburg and even the entirety of Windmire and then some. His frame towering just as imposingly as it spreads, the great, mountainous man is indeed visible despite residing weeks from the nearest inhabitable place. His own size indeed a great issue, the amount of food required to merely keep Freyr fed, much less the food necessary to ensure his continual growth, is also another concern with regards to space. The summoner able to find another spell to aid with just that, a small portal floats above his face. His feeding tube comes out one end of it, the other end coming out another portal somewhere in Askr. The contraption alone is the size of a castle, such great quantities of food needed to feed Freyr and Freyr alone. Speaking of food, giving him enough complete meals to satisfy his hunger is completely out of the question. Instead, his feeding tube houses a mixture that Freyr can never quite place. Some days, he tastes an arrangement of the most cloyingly sweet desserts paired with an assortment of decadent toppings. Other days, an impossibly wide array of spicy yet savory dishes enter his mouth. And on even more days, the mixture changes throughout the day, his taste buds never left unsatisfied with the selection. Though such a thing is impossible with Freyr simply caring about stuffing his gullet. Freyr currently devours away at his unending torrent of food with the same fervor he always does.

His growth still occurs at a rapid pace, hundreds of pounds slathered onto his elephantine body daily. But at such a prodigal girth as extraordinary as Freyr's, the extra few hundreds is nothing but a pathetic drop of blubber into the oceanic bucket of lard that he is. Completely unrecognizable as even a human figure at this point, a passing semblance lost tons and tons of weight ago, his stomach puts even the largest of doomsday dragons several heroes once faced. His soft, flabby expanse of lard oozes and flows forward in all directions. His mountainous stomach spreads for miles as far as anyone could see, his expansive pale blubber blanketing the snowy landscape as it takes up the area in its need for more room. Rivers for love handles jut out the side of his mountain of a gut, the ginormous rolls of flab melding into an indiscernible shape. The upper roll of his gut lurches forward onto the lower valley filling slab of fat that is the lower half of his gut. Or what can be construed as it, Freyr's towering body hard to discern. His cavernous navel is in a constant state of twilight from the overhang, the space reminiscent of a black hole. His enormous breasts remain flopped on his great cushiony gut. Freyr's own corpulence the only thing able to rival itself in terms of sheer size, the two titanic tits take up a sizable, meaty portion of his stomach. Each breath alone can crush the entirety of Daein Keep alone. The bright pink hue of his areola is the only real demarcation of his breasts, the sagging tits even managing to mesh together with his mound of a gut. Above his gut is Freyr's unfathomably high amount of neck rolls and chins that simply crash upon one another to form a ringlet of uncountable rolls. Freyr's ass surges out behind him. The tremendous ass cheeks splay out further than even the Mila Tree's canopy. Freyr's ass and gut take up the most space of himself, both assets spreading wherever they please unlike his bloated, sunken appendages. Not that there is much distinction between his ass and gut, both absolutely massive piles of blubber with little shape to speak of. His back is riddled with hundreds of soft plush rolls. His legs useless several hundreds of feasts ago, the two oceanic thighs are bunched up together in a mockery of what a leg should be, rolls upon rings of fat smothering one another to make up a leg. The same is true for his arms, dozens of rings of fat making up his arms uselessly splayed to the side from his uncountable plush love handles. Freyr's cheeks occupy an even greater amount of space than his head, the bulbous mounds of fat splaying out to the sides of his face even as it takes up most of said face. And yet, even at such an inconceivable size, Freyr simply needs more. He craves it. To eat and grow to the absolute inordinately massive that he can possibly be.

The telltale sound of a ripple sounding out, Freyr nearly misses it over the crashing pleasant torrent of his muffled moans from his eating. Knowing what is to come, his monstrous guzzling somehow becomes even more fervorent. A figure comes out of the portal and steps onto Freyr's corpulence.

Kiran is merely the molehill to Freyr's mountain. Yet, even such a comparison is far too diminutive of Freyr's grandeur, Kiran neither even being an anthill, merely an ant in the presence of someone as monumentally fat as Freyr. Always visiting daily to check upon his process, Kiran's next action is not done so often. He closes the portal housing Freyr's feeding tube, the colossal man going without food for more than a second for the first time in weeks.

Freyr's eyes are constantly closed now just as they were when he was once thin and fit, an image hard for those to imagine with his size being what it is now. Able to more easily attune himself to the dreams of others with his eyes closed, he keeps them closed for his own dreams. Dreams of the future. Dreams of living as the god he ought to. Of nothing more than to simply eat and grow. To further display his greatness for all humans to see and awe. To tower over them in immensity and power. Of growing so immensely fat that even the mortal realm will be unable to withstand his divine corpulence and returning back to Ljósálfheimr only to continue eating and growing with the aid of his realm's infinitely expanding space. With his treasured human who benevolently offered unto him the knowledge of human delicacies and set him upon this path.

And so, he opens his eyes as his most loyal devotee rests comfortably atop him. It is only right for him to offer such a pleasure to a mere mortal. For despite the summoner's abilities, that is all he is in comparison to one as great as he. A delicate human before a god. His own titanic waves of lard fills up the near entirety of his vision. The fat from his waves of back fat folding on up to his face just as his greatly stuffed cheeks do.  The only break to the monotonous view of his pale blubber is the summoner's face peering down at his sunken face.

"Kiran…" Freyr's deep rich voice is magnified from all his fat pressing down on him. His luscious mannerism in speaking in a near hazy drawn out whisper is magnified as well, speaking a time and energy consuming task at his monumental size.

A relaxed smile on his face, Kiran allows himself to rest a ginger hand on Freyr's cheek. Unable to lift a single cheek with even both hands, he merely pinches at the plush malleable lard. His eyes never once leave Freyr's own. Keeping them fully open is also too taxing of a task for Freyr. Instead, they remain half lidded. Kiran's hands explore only the near perimeter of Freyr's face. Enough rolls on his expansive lard, Kiran could spend hours simply exploring such a small section of Freyr's corpulence. Freyr's churning stomach is a turbulent, raucous machine with its tremor like desperate growls. Freyr's taxed wheezing mixes in, the two filling in for the silence. Freyr's slight moans trickle in as Kiran's hands wander off towards Freyr's horns, his delicate hands wrapping around and rubbing the tip of them.

"Hnnn… Kiran…" Unable to even squirm from the touching, every single part of Freyr immovable, he remains still as the red tinge of blush on his face deepens and darkens.

"I am here to serve you," Kiran drapes himself over Freyr's enormity, one hand never leaving Freyr's horns. "Whatever you may wish for, I will perform," Kiran's smile widens as Freyr's black hole for a stomach seems to respond to the thinly veiled offer, Kiran always being like this whenever he has come to increase Freyr's intake of food.

"Haah, so hungry,,, I hnngh-require food," Freyr wheezes from a mere sentence, the energy required of him to do anything a foreign concept now. "Much more hah food,,,"

"Of course," Kiran reactivates the portal spell. A bright iridescent blue portal appears above Freyr's face. A ripple in the sky, Kiran reaches his hand inside it and rummages around. Grabbing the thick wide tube, he drags it out of the portal.

"Wait,,," Freyr slowly croaks out right before Kiran brings his feast of a snack to his lips. His stomach wrenches in pangs of hunger at the tantalizing offer of food dangling right in front of his face. "I shall haah have you stay,,," His bloated face puffs out in exertion. It is only fair to offer such a devoted human such a great right of basking in his presence.

Kiran's face softens. "Of course," They respond as if asked to hand over an item, not remaining atop an inconceivably obese and growing man. "Now, I mustn't keep you waiting much longer," With no interruption on either end, Kiran slots Freyr's feeding tube back inside his mouth. Freyr begins guzzling away at it before Kiran even activates it. Kiran huffs in amusement before activating Freyr's feeding machine.

"You deserve to grow as big as you wish. And I would be delighted to remain by your side as you do,"

Freyr merely half grunts half moans in affirmation, preferring to eat and to not disappoint his loyal devotee. Especially as he wishes to find out his possible limit, not that he'll ever willingly stop growing nor that he even presumably has one.