#venting? creating writing exercise?

[dnd-procrastinators]

the path is one i know

not from experience but rather memory

her memory

she follows me now, hand clasped in mine

feet dragging along as i lead her

down the well-trodden path

i can’t help but look around

at the ones that came before us

time has not been kind to them

most have crumbled apart

those that still stand have been weathered

words smoothed over with tears

until all that remains is a blank slate

few carry anything of note, untouched

we keep walking

me in front, her silently behind

it gets better as we go

the path is newer, paved by each set of steps

the ones here are clearer, sharper

giving way to a glimpse of what once was

but they start to blend together

a mass of indistinguishable differences

overlapping, multiplying

we near the end of the path and she stops

finally lifts her head to look at the most recent one

“i held her hand just like you did”

“i know”, i smile softly

“do we really have to?”

“yes. you know how this goes” i offer, but we both know there is no consolation for this

“im scared. i don’t want to go yet”

“there’s no need to be scared” i gently reassure, while pressing down on her shoulders

she turns to face me, watching me through her descent

“you won’t be alone. you saw. you saw everyone before you. you’re only joining them”

she tries to speak but i keep pushing

“its alright. i’ll join you soon enough. once the next one comes”

she lays there staring at me with a blank look on her face

i can’t bear to see it

soft earth claims her, blankets her and whisks her away

i hold my breath, feel the air around me shift

and then release all at once a chorus of sighs

i hope that when my time comes i’ll face it with a bit more grace

perhaps i’ll hold my head up high, maybe even take her hand, play shepherd to my own fate

there’s no point dwelling on it

i know how it goes

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

Your Mars sign can indicate the activities you engage in regularly. Here’s the breakdown based on element:

Fire Mars

Go to the gym, take walks, engage with different people, go to clubs, attend parties, hang out with friends, go on random adventures, create artwork, make music, gamble, work a labor job, exercise at home, meet new people, go on dates, ask for people’s numbers, work on your passions, hook up with people, attend gatherings, spend time with family, play video games, cook, public speaking, play pick-up sports, dance, drive to get away, have debates, take pictures and upload them to social media, spend time in nature, try new food spots, attend events.

Earth Mars

Follow morning and night routines, work long hours, study for school, work towards goals, play an instrument, nap, go out to eat, order food delivery, spend time in nature, get nails and hair done, visit a spa, do Pilates or yoga, sit in a sauna, take a warm bath, shower routine, go on dates, be intimate with a partner, read books, write, clean your space, improve an interest, check emails, attend appointments, run errands, organize and manage others, help out a friend or family member, work on your resume, look for job opportunities, shop, spend time with family.

Air Mars

Socialize with new people, come up with theories, read books, search questions on Google, use ChatGPT, think of ideas to execute for the future, learn something new, solve current life problems, talk to friends or family, help others with their problems, flirt with someone, try to get everyone on the same page, dress up, apply makeup, visit aesthetic places, work on a project with a friend or family member, talk on FaceTime, message throughout the day, use your phone or PC, interact with gadgets at home, play video games, take time for yourself, volunteer, use social media to bring awareness to social causes or humanitarian issues, do puzzles or mentally stimulating games, debate, share opinions, date different people.

Water Mars

Stay home in bed, cuddle, eat at your favorite food spots, binge-watch movies or TV shows, take naps, cook or bake, listen to music for long periods, journal, spend time with friends and family, bring food, gifts, or something needed to others, decorate and set up your space, be a listening ear, have existential crises, do tarot, read astrology content, reflect on situations that happened earlier in the day, week, or month, engage in intimacy, go on dates, vent to a trusted person, cry, do art, daydream, play video games, have a drink of wine, smoke weed, or spend time alone.

[milkymora]

✧ arcane women - childhood headcanons ✧

note: got a little emotional while writing this but what can i do. missing arcane like a mf. everything is sfw obv, cts of pictures used to their respective owners on pinterest. characters: vi, jinx, caitlyn, mel, sevika.

⟢ vi.

vander always listened to old rock songs. it was the same 4 ones on repeat, one of them being “god of thunder” by kiss. he’d exaggerate his singing just to make her laugh, and it always worked, until she learnt the lyrics as well: blowing, together, felicia’s eardrums.

felicia understood vi liked girls when she was 5 yo. how? simply because the little menace vi was, would suddenly go quiet, shy and a little red even, when met by a girl she thought was cute. she would talk quietly and try to befriend them by timidly sharing her toys, just to go to her mom later on and tell her how pretty her new friend was.

she always included powder when she went to play with other kids. little pow was always the youngest and sometimes the other kids would be mean to her, because she didn’t understand games rules and couldn’t play well. however that’d happen only once, because vi wouldn’t allow it a second time.

⟢ jinx.

used to get sick so easily. always with a runny nose, a fever or cough. vander would spend hours cooking recipes for her; and he would always manage to make them taste good and look appetizing, chopping veggies in star or heart shapes, or adding anything that could make it look cute to a child’s eyes. and it worked! she would always eat it.

she was very scared of the dark and struggled to sleep some nights. that’s when vi would tell her bed time stories she’d create on the spot, or sing her their mother’s lullabies, until she’d fall asleep.

when she was learning how to write, she’d exercise writing little love letters for vander and vi. though she would always spell vander wrong, writing it “vinder” because she’d get confused, mixing the two names.

⟢ cait.

she had all kinds of toys, from dolls to mini, plastic shotguns. cassandra absolutely hated the latters, however there was no denying little cait adored playing with them way more than the dolls. she would always annoy her with it when she was working.

she didn’t really have any friends growing up, aside from jayce. she was either studying (yes, she was home schooled) or training her shots with older enforcers. she didn’t mind being alone, but when jayce became her friend she realized how good it was for her. jayce allowed her to vent a lot, about anything.

cassandra was always overprotective of her, mainly showing her tough love and giving her restrictions on basically everything, yet... there were a few times where the two of them had tender moments, like when caitlyn playfully wore her mother’s wedding dress for fun and cassandra actually got so emotional she teared up.

⟢ mel.

always a quiet girl, with her nose buried in her books. historical ones precisely; her mother made her passionate about history, telling her all kinds of fun facts about the places she’d been at, making her curiosity bloom into a desire for knowledge of the past that made her devour hundredths of books during her childhood (and teenage hood).

another passion she had was art. as we’re shown on the show, mel can paint. that’s because she’s always done it since she was a child, one of the many things ambessa wasn’t fond of. nevertheless, her mother’s disapproval never stopped her from continuing her hobby, that is one of the things that make her feel best when doing it. ambessa ended up giving in and actually enjoying her works, finding a way to get one and put it on her chamber’s wall.

had an amazing relationship with her brother kino. both him and her were very similar, interests and personality wise, so it became a habit to find comfort in the other when one was not feeling okay. they always knew which words to use.

⟢ sevika.

she was actually pretty timid as a child. she hated fighting and seeing others fight, which was why she’d always run off when it happened. and, unfortunately, it happened all the time. for that reason, her childhood had been pretty harsh and she suffered a lot because of it.

but there wasn’t only bad times. although she wasn’t close with her father, she got along with her mother just fine. they had lots of loving mother-daughter moments, cooking together and doing each other’s hair. her mother would often compliment her eyes, “you have your father’s eyes, with my face”.

she would always help other kids. the ones she thought were deserving of it of course, helping them when they’d get hurt for a reason or another or simply keeping them company if their parents weren’t around. it’s one of the reasons she’s well known in zaun.

i hurt my own feelings writing about sevika but oh god, there are no freaking canon infos about her past it’s unfair. gosh i love my babies so much. stick around if you’d like more arcane content pretties, i’ve got plenty more in store for ya >:).

✧ arcane navigation. ✧

[prettieinpink]

Urgent ask, how be a baddie as a extremely under confident person

BECOMING YOUR BEST SELF WITH LOW CONFIDENCE

i have no idea what ur definition of a 'baddie' is, so this post may have not been what you've been looking for, but I tried my best

A lot of us struggle with confidence, and it can be the main factor that holds us back from growing to be our best selves. So, I’ve created a guide on improving ourselves even with low confidence.

UNDERSTAND THAT IT IS NOT UNREPLENISHABLE. Confidence is like a cup of water, tea, coffee, hot cocoa, or whatever your favourite beverage is, it can always be refilled. While you don’t have to ‘fake till you make it’, remember that you do not live with a restricted amount of confidence.

ACCEPT IT. Whatever way you have to, crying, journalling, venting, you have to accept that you are a person who struggles with low confidence. However, instead of identifying yourself as that, identify yourself as learning to self-love.

E.g. ‘I’m so insecure’ → ‘I am still learning to love myself.’ ‘Why can’t I be like them?’ -> ‘I will learn that I do not have to be someone else.’

CONSIDER NEUTRALITY. You don’t have to live on this odd scale of loving yourself or hating yourself all the time, and letting it define you. Instead of what it looks like, what it can look like, what it can do, see it as a special vessel that homes your soul.

For example, my body can digest the food that nourishes my soul, my hands can write text messages to my loved ones which reassure my soul that they know they are loved etc. Seeing it in this perspective grows a deeper meaning and appreciation for your body.

I like to see my body, traits, and life as a gift from God. Me insulting these things, is an insult to him.

INDULGE IN YOUR STRENGTHS. When we have low confidence, it becomes almost second nature to focus on our weaknesses. Instead, try to actively focus on your strengths. If you don’t know what your strengths are at the moment, just focus on things that make you happy.

It would be beneficial to add one thing that you know you’re good at on your list of what to do. Something that you’re assured you’ll like doing and the outcome.

TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. Eat a well-balanced diet, make an effort to achieve good quality sleep, exercise when you can, reach out to your loved ones daily and incorporate things that make you happy.

Just these simple things can improve your quality of life by far, however, our intentions to do these things may be impacted by our low confidence, and therefore we are unmotivated to do these things.

If that is the case, take little steps in doing each thing and remind yourself that intentional self-neglect is a form of self-harm and destruction.

[acti-veg]

Hi! So uh, first of all I just wanted to say thank you for everything you do :) your book and your blog were some of the main things that even made me go vegan in the first place and I still learn a lot from your articles and posts!! You’re an amazing activist! Seeing people like you restores my faith in humanity tbh so thank you again so so much 💗

Anyway, I’m writing this ask because I’ve been struggling a lot emotionally as a vegan and I feel like I need advice from someone more experienced. I know you must spend a lot of time interacting with carnists when advocating for veganism. You’ve been doing this for years and still you’re going strong, so I just wonder how you manage to stay positive and not get too hurt in the process…

My problem is that whenever I see animal products or hear people spreading carnist views I react overly strongly. Often, I almost feel physical pain and can’t bring myself to interact with those people, it just hurts so much. Animal cruelty is everywhere and it feels like I can’t do anything about it. It’s heartbreaking, horrifying, depressing, and the worst part is how normalised it is.

It feels like there’s no escape. Somehow I can’t go outside without walking past a meat market, I can’t cook for myself without seeing a chicken corpse in the fridge, I can’t even play a video game without seeing images of animal products, etc... All these things are supposed to be normal, but they’re just so distressing to me. What makes me feel especially horrible is seeing/hearing anti-vegans spreading misinformation and such. I feel like if I see another post saying that "leather is good and sustainable actually" I’m going to explode. Is it just me or are other people that affected as well?

This would probably be easier to deal with if I had an ethical vegan friend or two who’d understand how I feel, but I don’t have any. I live with four carnists and even my partner apparently hates vegans (tried to tell them about my feelings and they got personally offended). And I know there’s a big community of vegan people out there, but there’s not nearly enough of us and I still feel so isolated and alone in my experiences.

I’m so sorry for venting. What I meant to ask is, do you ever feel like that? Is there anything that can help me not feel depressed whenever I see animal products? And thank you so much again for doing what you do. You are truly a wonderful person and I hope life treats you well <3

Thank you for the kind words, I’m so glad my blog had an impact on you!

I’m sorry to hear that you’ve been having such a bad time of it, I wish I could say that this isn’t common but I’ve had dozens of asks like this one. I firmly believe that going vegan is an extremely positive decision, but there are negatives that come from knowing what we know, and trying to exist in a society that is built on the backs of exploited animals. We have all felt like this, myself included.

Honestly, it sounds like you may consuming a bit too much vegan content, or possibly spending too much time engaging wifh and thinking about veganism specifically. Do you have any hobbies that help relax and distract you? Reading, gaming, exercise? I find all of these really helpful for clearing my head, especially exercise. There is such a thing as overexposure for vegans, and I’ve definitely been there myself.

What helps me most is trying to focus on the positive side of being vegan. Follow more positive content like sanctuaries, rescue centres, recipe creators, plant-based fitness blogs - whatever makes you happy. Avoid engaging with upsetting content, that includes graphic footage of any kind, anti-vegan content, debates and arguments. Create a little bubble for yourself that you can escape in, even if that means having seperate accounts for when you’re feeling this way and just want some escapism.

Try and visit an animal sanctuary, even if you have to make this a long term goal if there isn’t one that is accessible to you. I can’t describe how helpful this is an experience, to remember who this is all about and the fact that not all animals are suffering and unhappy. Seeing wild animals in their natural habitat can achieve the same thing.

For me, the best balm to this sort of feeling is activism. It is a big part of why I do this, it isn’t all altruistic. Turning some people of that negative towards something positive can help you feel much less helpless. See if there are any animal rights groups in your area (you’d also make vegan friends) but if not, try doing some of your own work, even if that is just online, signing/making petitions, blogging, letter writing - whatever you can do.

I’d also recommend this talk from Melanie Joy about activist burnout, which something close to what you’re experiencing, and she has some really helpful advice. That pain and disconnect from others will always be there, but I hope you manage to find some tools for coping with it that work for you, that is really all any of us can do. Take care of yourself, anon!

[kallie-den]

Marital Aid Ch. 1

Clea uses hypnosis to liberate her boss, Isabella, from a failing marriage… and awaken her to the life as a kinky lesbian

This story was a commission from one of my patrons! Thank you very much to Myles_EXVS for their kind support

If you enjoy my work and are looking for more, or you want to support me, I strongly encourage you to check out my Patreon! I write erotica full-time, which means I need your patronage to keep creating, and my Patrons also get benefits like early access to my stories, extra stories, and the ability to vote on what I write next! So, if that sounds good to you, head over and join the couple hundred patrons I already have :)

---

“Clea?” The sound of Bruna’s voice brought Clea back to herself. “You’re supposed to be spotting for me, babe.”

“Right.” Clea shook her head, blushing a little. “Sorry.”

“Hold on.”

Bruna strained and groaned as she lifted the monstrously heavy bar up over her head and placed it back onto the rack. She sat up on the exercise bench, and Clea apologetically offered her a sweat towel to wipe her forehead off with. Clea was a little jealous of just how good her friend looked when she was working out; Bruna had the kind of muscular figure that made other girls drool, and her deep brown, Brazilian skin always glistened appealingly when she was flushed and sweating from exertion. Clea couldn’t relate.

“OK,” Bruna said, after taking a swig of water. “What’s on your mind? Out with it.”

Clea sighed and sat down on the bench next to her. Unfortunately, Bruna knew her too well. The two of them had been gym buddies for a long time, and friends for longer.

“It’s…” Clea didn’t know where to begin. It was far too embarrassing.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Bruna asked sympathetically.

“Yeah.” Clea planted her head in her hands. “Yeah. It is.”

She didn’t need to explain who ‘her’ was. They both knew.

Isabella.

“Oh, girl.” Bruna threw one of her big, strong arms across Clea’s shoulder. “You’re down seriously bad.”

Clea groaned and leaned in. She didn’t need Bruna to tell her that. Isabella consumed her every waking thought. The reason she’d been zoning out when she was supposed to be spotting for Bruna was because she’d been caught up in picturing Isabella’s smiling face. She’d reached schoolgirl levels of hopeless infatuation.

And there were two massive problems with it.

Firstly, Isabella was her boss. Clea was pretty sure that falling in love with the woman she worked for wasn’t part of a personal secretary’s job description. Workplace romances like that never worked out, and she was sure Isabella was too much of a stickler to ever consider it. There was also an accompanying age gap - Clea was in her mid-twenties while Isabella was in her thirties. That didn’t bother her so much, especially since Clea had such a fondness for older women, but it was yet another obstacle.

The second, much bigger problem was that Isabella was both straight and married.

“Falling for a straight girl.” Clea sighed again, heavier. “She’s amazing, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I wish I could just forget about all these feelings and move on. It’s so hard, having to be near her, day after day, never being able to act on them.”

“I bet,” Bruna said soothingly. She reached up and started stroking Clea’s long, red hair.

“And the worst part is seeing that she’s not happy!” Clea vented. “Her pig of a husband makes her miserable, I can just tell. Why couldn’t it be me instead? I’d treat her the way she deserves. I’d treat her like a queen.”

“I know you would,” Bruna assured her. She paused for a moment and then turned to look closely at Clea, a cunning smile on her face. “You know, babe, you do have a way of making that happen.”

Clea threw a sharp look up at her. “I don’t even know if it works.”

“Oh, it works,” Bruna told her, grinning. “I was going to tell you afterward. I tested it very thoroughly. I have all the data you said you’d need to make the final calibrations.”

“Yeah, I bet you were thorough,” Clea snorted. “I heard a few rumors about what you’ve been up to with that heiress girl.”

“Now, now. I don’t kiss and tell.” Bruna’s grin took on a cocky, swaggering quality. Clea’s friend loved to kiss and tell. “Anyway, the point is: it’s amazing! I can’t believe my friend knows how to mind-control people. It’s like you’re a supervillain or something.”

At that, Clea laughed. “It’s just a hobby,” she retorted. “I’ve always liked audio mixing and video editing. It started with music videos, but then I got really curious about how different kinds of sounds and different frequencies can affect the human mind. And, uh, I guess one thing lead to another.”

The ‘another’, in this case, was a suite of software and a set of techniques that allowed her to create audio and video files that had a potent, hypnotic effect on the listener. Clea could almost literally reprogram them with whatever commands she chose - at least, within reason and with enough exposure. Clea objected to the idea that she was some kind of supervillain, but admittedly, the description wasn’t too far off.

“So,” Bruna pressed, “why not put all that work to good use?”

“You mean… with Isabella?” Clea frowned. “No. In fact, I don’t even want that experimental data. I don’t want to think about it.”

"Why not? Just think about it! No more yearning, no more heartache. You could have her.”

Clea felt a definite, stirring pang, but looked away. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is,” Bruna countered.

“I-it wouldn’t be right.”

“From what you said about her husband, it sounds like she’d be happier with you,” Bruna pointed out. “Why not think of it as giving her a little push towards a happy ending? You can’t tell me that’s not part of what this was all for. The testing. Your little hobby.”

“It just…” Clea stood up, shrugging off Bruna’s arm, and started to pace. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t feel right. Not with her.”

“Why not?” Bruna asked again, a touch exasperated.

“Because I care about her, Bruna,” Clea replied. “She’s not just a pretty girl I’m looking to get into bed. It’s more than that. I want her to be happy.”

“You could make her happy,” Bruna pointed out. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Maybe she’s happy right now,” Clea shot back. “Maybe that’s why she’s still with him. I don’t know. That’s the point. I can’t just decide that for her. What if I’m wrong? What if I make it worse?”

“Wow, babe,” Bruna said, raising an eyebrow. “You really are down bad.”

Clea sank back down miserably onto the bench. “Yeah. I know.”

Bruna squeezed her shoulder. “Well, here’s what we’re gonna do,” she said. “We’re going to keep working out until you’re so exhausted you can barely think. Then we’re gonna go back to my bar and get drunk until you definitely can’t think. Sound good?”

“God yes,” Clea sighed.

“Atta girl.” Clea stood up, allowing Bruna to lie back down along the exercise bench, and rest her hands back on the barbell. As she did, she threw Clea one last look. “But just remember: you ever change your mind, and the data’s yours. Just give me a call.”

***

The next evening, Clea’s head was still throbbing from the hangover. Bruna drank hard, and her bar was well-stocked. The headache was a welcome pain. A welcome distraction. To take her mind off of it, and off of everything else, she was preparing a nice, big pot of stew. It would take the edge off her hangover, and give her some welcome nourishment for the week to come. The stew was still simmering on her stovetop, however, when Clea found herself much, much more distracted by a message she’d just received.

Can I come over?

It was from Isabella.

Clea’s boss, the woman she was hopelessly head-over-heels for, had just texted her on a Sunday evening to ask to come over to her apartment. Maybe she should have replied with ‘no’, or ‘I’m busy, sorry’. Maybe she should even have left her on read. There were reasons to. Refusing would have helped maintain professional boundaries, and would have helped Clea stop torturing herself about a doomed romance.

Instead, she had replied ‘yes’ right away.

And now, as she waited for Isabella to arrive, Clea was left with nothing to do but watch her stew simmer and wonder about what, exactly, had happened. She and Isabella had a friendly and warm relationship at work, to be sure. Sometimes they even confided in one another a little - that was how Clea had caught a hint of her marital issues. But suddenly dropping in to visit Clea at her apartment? That was completely unprecedented.

Clea desperately wanted to know why. But with Isabella already on her way, there was nothing for her to do except keep pacing back and forward across her kitchen restlessly, wondering, trying to stop herself from giving in to needless speculation or fruitless hope. Occasionally, she couldn’t help dashing over to the mirror in her bathroom to make sure that she looked presentable. Part of her wanted to put on some makeup, but the knowledge that she’d look like she’d gotten all dolled up on a Sunday night just to stay home and cook held her back.

Eventually, mercifully, the buzzer for her apartment rang.

Clea rushed down and opened the door as quickly as she could, and let out a mourning gasp when she laid eyes on her boss.

Isabella had been crying. That much was obvious from the way her eyes were red from tears and wide with worry. It pained Clea to see her beauty marred by such sadness. She was still beautiful, though. Clea was struck by that every single time she saw her boss.

Isabella Chase was aging more than gracefully into her thirties. Put simply, she had a figure to die for, and looked just as killer in the t-shirt and jeans she was currently wearing as she did in the smart, well-tailored business wear Clea was used to seeing on her. She had a slender, pretty face, with high, arched, sharp cheekbones that somehow became rounded and full when she laughed and smiled, lighting up her whole face. Her short, black, shoulder-length hair framed her features perfectly, and her tanned, brown skin took on a thousand tones in a different light. Clea never got tired of looking at her. She just hoped her boss hadn’t noticed the way she stared. Especially since Isabella did know that Clea was a lesbian.

“Hey,” Clea said awkwardly. “What’s wrong?”

As soon as she saw Clea, Isabella sagged. “I’m sorry,” she said heavily. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“What? No!” Clea replied urgently. “Don’t say that. You’re more than welcome.”

Isabella just sniffled and shook her head miserably. “It’s not appropriate. I’m your boss. You shouldn’t have to…”

“Just come in.” Clea reached out and touched Isabella on the shoulder, lightly. “Please?”

Isabella nodded, just as miserably, but allowed Clea to guide her inside and upstairs into her apartment. Once there, Clea immediately set to fussing over her boss. She got her seated comfortably on the couch, and then went to make tea for the both of them. When she returned, two steaming mugs in hand, she sat down next to Isabella. A worried frown was carving lines into her face.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Isabella repeated, although she seemed more settled than before. “I’m your boss. You put up with me enough at work.”

“Nonsense,” Clea told her firmly. “You put up with me just as much. We can call it even.”

That made Isabella smile, which made Clea smile.

“I just didn’t know where else to go, I suppose,” Isabella explained apologetically, sipping tentatively at her tea. “I guess I didn’t really want my friends to see me like this. So I just started driving around, and then I was in the neighborhood, and I remembered your address, and… well, you’re just so easy to talk to, at work. So I just…”

“I’m glad you did,” Clea said. “Really. It’s not an imposition. But you do have to tell me what’s going on. That’s the only condition.”

Isabella laughed, sniffled again, and nodded. “Well, it’s… it’s him. Again. Robert. My husband.”

A furious shiver raced down Clea’s spine. It was just as she’d suspected. Her husband was the only thing she’d ever seen get anything close to this far under Isabella’s skin.

“What did he do now?” Clea’s voice approached a growl.

“He didn’t…” Isabella started to say in instinctive defensiveness, before sagging again. “It’s not like that, exactly. We just had another fight.”

“I see,” Clea said tersely.

“I want kids,” Isabella said. Now that she was unburdening herself, it came out easy. She wasn’t looking at the expression on Clea’s face. “I want a family. I do. And I thought he wanted that too. I mean, we always said… but now I don’t know. Every time I try to talk to him about it, he gets so…”

Clea worried for all the unspoken things she could hear in Isabella’s voice. “Do you mean…”

“No,” Isabella told her. “Not like that. But he gets so closed off about it. So short-tempered. It’s like… it’s like me, and what I want, are just annoyances to him. You know?”

“Yeah.” Clea had to fight not to grind her teeth. “I know what you mean.”

“It’s at the point where I just don’t know what to do,” Isabella went on. “I just assumed we’d work on it, over time, together, but it’s starting to seem like it isn’t going to get better. I don’t know what to do anymore. Today, when I tried to talk to him, we ended up arguing. And when he started yelling at me, I just… I had to get out of there, Clea.”

“Get out of there?” Hope, tinged by guilt, started to swell in Clea’s bosom. “Like-”

“I mean, how am I supposed to go back to him now, after running out like that?”  The words kept flowing out of Isabella. She was starting to tear up again. “Sometimes I feel like I just can’t take it anymore.”

Clea paused for a long moment to gather her courage before saying: “Maybe… you don’t have to. Go back, I mean.”

Isabella looked up at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re better than him, Isabella!” Clea cried. “It’s obvious. He doesn’t deserve you. You’re amazing. You’re beautiful, you’re kind, you work hard and support yourself and others. If you want a family, you deserve one. You deserve someone who wants to have that with you.”

Her boss let out a sound that was half a laugh, half a sob. “That’s… a nice thought, Clea.”

“I’m serious!” Clea insisted fiercely. “I know it’s a cliche, but there are so many other people out there who could make you happy. You shouldn’t have to devote your life to someone who doesn’t even care enough to talk to you about what you want!”

“It’s not that easy.” Isabella seemed to tense up. “I can’t just walk out on him like that.”

“Why not?” Clea couldn’t bring herself to hold back now. “You don’t need him, Isabella. And you said so yourself - it seems like it isn’t going to get better. So what are you staying with him for?”

“I… I guess I don’t really have a good answer to that,” Isabella admitted. “But I do know one thing. I’m not a quitter. That’s how I’ve made it this far, right?”

“Isabella…” Clea slumped back against the couch cushion, defeated. She could hear the resolve in her boss’s voice, and she recognized all too well the kind of self-defeating logic Isabella was trapping herself in.

“Maybe it’s a little silly,” Isabella said, smiling sadly to herself. “But I really meant all those things I said at the altar. The promises. In sickness and in health, stuff like that. I… I know you mean well, Clea. I just think I need to see this through properly.”

There was nothing for Clea to do but look down and sigh. “I understand,” she said, even though she didn’t.

It took all the strength she had not to blurt out that it should have been her. That she was the one who could make Isabella happy that way. That she would be overjoyed to give Isabella the family her husband wouldn’t.

But of course, her words would have fallen on deaf ears. Isabella was straight, and that was that.

Before Clea knew it, the two of them had lapsed into uncomfortable silence. The only sound in the apartment was the occasional noise of each of them sipping at their tea. Clea knew she had to fix it.

“Hey,” she said abruptly, planting as bright a smile as she could muster on her face. “Well, if you want to stay here, just for tonight, you’d be more than welcome. I mean it. We can have a girls’ night. This couch folds out, and it’s actually not as bad as it-“

The sound of Isabella’s phone lighting up with a text message interrupted her.

Her boss snatched at her phone like a drowning woman at a life ring. The expression of manic, desperate hope on her face as she read the message tore Clea’s heart in two, and immeasurable dread washed over her. She knew exactly what was happening.

“Thank you,” Isabella said to Clea, already gathering herself. “That’s such a kind offer. B-but I need to go now, actually.” She gestured to her phone. “He’s worried about me, and he wants to talk.”

She was smiling as she said it, although Clea knew even Isabella didn’t really believe in whatever platitudes her husband was offering. She was just forcing herself to, because it was the only way she could keep going. Isabella’s smile was as fragile as glass, and Clea couldn’t bring herself to be the one that broke it.

“Sure.” Clea desperately hoped her own smile didn’t look too fake or forced. “Of course. I understand. And, anytime. I promise.”

She walked Isabella out of the building and the two of them said their goodbyes. But the whole time, Clea could only think about how disgustingly false this all was. She’d met Isabella’s husband two or three times, at various work-related social functions. She knew what a boor he was. She knew he wasn’t going to change. But, clearly, he was willing to keep stringing Isabella along with false hope and false kindnesses until it ground her into dust.

Dwelling on it left a pit of nausea in Clea’s stomach. It wasn’t right. She couldn’t let this happen. Not to Isabella.

And there was something she could do about it.

Once Clea got back up to her apartment, she reached for her phone and messaged Bruna.

I need the data.

***

The next morning, it took Clea quite some time to gather her courage before she could bring herself to head into Isabella’s office and bring her boss her morning coffee. Her anxiety was twofold. First, she was afraid that the atmosphere between them would be heavy with the weight of what had happened the day before; with Isabella’s unexpected vulnerability, and Clea’s unwelcome advice. And second, she was afraid that Isabella would see how nervous she was, and somehow sense what she was about to do.

Her first fear, at least, was dispelled from the first moment she knocked and pushed open the door. Isabella was already behind her desk, hard at work, but she rose to greet Clea with a broad grin.

“Clea! Good morning,” she gushed. “Oh, is that my latte? I seriously need it.”

“Of course,” Clea replied. “Same as ever.”

She placed the cup holder on Isabella’s desk, but she must have seemed a touch awkward because Isabella quickly reached out for her hand.

“Hey, um,” Isabella began, “I wanted to say, about yesterday… I’m sorry. Not for turning up - you made it clear that you were happy to help, and I appreciate that a lot. You’re amazing, honestly. The best secretary I could ever ask for.”

Clea’s cheeks started to burn and glow from the praise.

“Instead, I’m sorry for putting you square in the middle of my marital, uh, issues,” Isabella said. “I’m sure that was really, really awkward.”

“No,” Clea replied. “Um, actually, I’m glad you felt like you could confide in me. And… actually, I’m sorry too. I went way too far.”

“Nonsense,” Isabella told her firmly, smiling. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You were just trying to help. To be honest, the advice you gave is exactly what I’d probably give to any of my friends if they were in the same position.”

That acknowledgment brought forth another heavy sigh that piqued Clea’s curiosity.

“May… I ask how it went?” Clea ventured cautiously.

“Good.” Isabella nodded firmly. “At least, I think it was good. We talked, and maybe we didn’t fix our problems yet, but we’re going to keep talking. What more can you ask for, right?”

She was trying to sound brave and sure, and it almost worked. Almost. But Clea knew her boss better than most. Better than her own husband, she’d guess. She saw Isabella every single day at work, and she knew when she was merely putting a brave face on something.

Looking deeper, Clea could see the signs. Under her eyes, she was using a little too much makeup to try and conceal some dark circles. Her eyes themselves were still tinged red. Her hair was a little messier and less lustrous than usual; probably, she’d gone to bed without doing her routine. And, most tellingly of all, her shoulders were sagged slightly in exhaustion and defeat, the way they only usually were on a Friday evening after a truly hellish week.

She wasn’t OK. It hadn’t been good. And that meant there was no reason at all for Clea to hold back.

“Well,” Clea began, “I was thinking, last night. And I have something that I think might help you a little.”

Isabella’s head tilted dubiously.

“Not with the, uh, issues,” Clea added hastily. “Just with how it all feels. It’s something for self-care.”

“Oh!” Isabella brightened immediately. “Clea, that’s so thoughtful.”

Clea had to look away for a moment. “Don’t mention it.”

“So?” Isabella asked eagerly. “What is it? Don’t keep me in suspense!”

Clea swallowed anxiously. This was it.

“This might sound a little weird,” she said, “but I have these… experimental music videos. They’re meant to help you relax. Think of it like… like meditation. Making them is kind of a hobby of mine, actually. I know it’s a little silly, but some people have said they’re really helpful. So, I made one for you.”

She blushed as she said that. Even the half-truth was embarrassing. Isabella, though, looked overjoyed.

“You did?” she exclaimed. “Oh my god, Clea! Thank you, that’s so thoughtful.”

Clea blushed again. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Of course I do,” Isabella replied. “I’ve never really tried meditation before, but you’re certainly right to think that I could use something to help me relax a little. I’d love to give it a try.”

“Great!” Clea’s relief was immeasurable, and she found herself grinning from ear to ear. She whipped out her phone. “I’ll send you the video right away. You can just listen to it whenever you have a quiet moment. Just… make sure to grab some headphones. And, uh, make sure you won’t be disturbed.”

“Got it!” To Clea’s great surprise, Isabella pulled her into a brief but warm hug. “Clea, you deserve a raise. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. Things have been so hard lately. It’s truly…”

“Hey.” Clea squeezed Isabella tight as her boss trailed off. “I know. But, Isabella, I can promise you that things are going to get much, much better for you very soon. I can just feel it.”

Once the two of them pulled apart, Isabella’s eyes were glistening.

“Thank you,” she said. “The way you said that almost makes me believe it.”

Clea and Isabella shared a laugh before Isabella went to sit back down at her desk. Clea took that as her cue.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she said, retreating out of her boss’s office. “I’ve got your first call for the day lined up in about twenty minutes.”

With that, each of them returned to the humdrum of a normal workday - but the whole time, Clea was burning with anticipation as she thought about what was going to happen once Isabella finally sat down to listen to what Clea had sent her.

***

The sun was getting low in the sky by the time Isabella’s thoughts turned back to Clea’s gift. It had been a long, busy day of work, with no chance for her to take time out to meditate. But now, the office was quiet. Everyone had gone home - even Clea, who seemed to have been lingering for some reason. Isabella figured she was probably worried about her. Clea was such a sweet girl that way.

Isabella really couldn’t blame her for being worried. Not after the way she’d fled to Clea’s apartment the day before. Just thinking about it was still incredibly embarrassing. Clea had been very kind about it, but Isabella was sure her secretary didn’t genuinely want to spend her weekends dealing with her boss’s personal problems.

Hopefully, earlier, when she’d told Clea that things were looking up, she’d sounded convincing enough to put the younger woman at ease.

The truth was… more complicated.

And that, regrettably, was part of why Isabella was staying late at work. It was the perfect excuse to spend a little less time at home.

Isabella sighed to herself. Admitting that, even in her own head, felt humiliating. Where had it all gone so wrong? When she had gotten married, she’d assumed that would be her happy ending. Having kids seemed like the natural next step - they’d even talked about it, briefly, a few times. Now, Robert got mad every time she brought it up. It was like he’d never wanted a family at all.

Another sigh. These thoughts were doing nothing but making Isabella upset again. They certainly weren’t helping her to get any work done, and the only thing worse than staying at the office to work overtime was staying at the office to do nothing except cry.

Which was why Isabella’s thoughts had turned to that relaxation music video Clea had made for her.

What better time to try it than now?

Isabella took a moment to dim the lights and close the blinds on the windows before sitting back in her office chair and pulling up the video file Clea had sent to her. The first frame looked like nothing but an indistinct mess of colors, and Isabella found herself a little skeptical that a simple music video would be able to offer everything Clea had promised. But, determined to give it a proper try, she took a series of long, deep breaths after putting in her earbuds.

“OK, here goes,” she said to herself, and pressed ‘play’.

Immediately, the screen in front of her exploded into dizzying patterns of motion that made Isabella gasp. There was such depth, vividness and beauty to the colors. It immediately drew Isabella in and captivated her, making her eyes pull wide open in an instinctive bid to drink in everything that was on the screen of her computer.

It was so overwhelming, she barely even noticed the sound playing through her earbuds.

It was music, but unlike any other Isabella had heard, and she only considered it to be music at all because of the vaguely harmonic quality of all the strange beats and tones playing in her ears. All of them were low and resonant; she felt them through her whole body, and underneath them was something like whispering, perhaps a voice, perhaps not. Whatever it was, Isabella found herself unable to bring it into focus.

Instead, all of her attention was on the screen. The true pattern formed by the colors was starting to unfold. At first, she thought it was a spiral, pulling inward, but she soon realized it was pushing outward instead, kaleidoscopic, like an ever-unfurling flower, revealing more of itself with each passing moment. Every new color that appeared at the center of the screen was a revelation, but then the whole image would turn, revealing more of itself yet again, along dizzying lines of symmetry.

Isabella couldn’t look away. Not even when her eyes started to ache from staring. She just slumped back into her seat and started to drool. She had been instantly hypnotized.

The music was getting louder, but Isabella didn’t stir, not even when lyrics started to appear inside her head. Not lyrics; mantras. Simple, blunt statements of fact that Isabella couldn’t seem to bring herself to question. They came one after another, layering atop one another, hammering themselves into her head until they felt like her own thoughts, no matter how strange and foreign they were.

They were true. She knew that. She just knew.

You are a lesbian, Isabella.

It was a hard thing to accept. Isabella had never once thought of herself as anything other than straight. She was even married to a man. So… how hadn’t she noticed it sooner? It seemed so hard to square away, and yet she knew she had to.

You don’t like men.

Isabella stirred. That didn’t seem right. She liked her husband, didn’t she? That was why she’d married him. She loved him… or so she’d thought. But she was a lesbian, so that didn’t make sense. And since she was a lesbian, it seemed only natural that she didn’t like men. Isabella reflected on how she’d felt about her husband in recent days. It hadn’t been positive.

Of course. She was a lesbian, and she didn’t like men.

You cannot orgasm with men.

Isabella blushed faintly, but settled. As unfamiliar as that thought was, it seemed to fit. She was a lesbian, and she didn’t like men. It made perfect sense that she couldn’t orgasm with men.

Her recent experiences with her husband certainly bore that out, too.

You can only orgasm with women.

Each new mantra, each new truth, was getting easier and easier to accept. They intersected and interlinked, mutually reinforcing one another, forming a net wrapped tight around Isabella’s mind. 

Forming a new self. A new identity.

You are attracted to Clea.

Isabella gasped. Clea? She’d never once looked at her secretary in that light. It would be completely and totally unprofessional of her.

And yet…

Now that the thought had crossed her mind, she couldn’t un-think it. Clea was pretty. There was certainly no denying that. She had a lovely figure, and such cute freckles, and her long, gorgeous, red hair was so striking. Anyone would call her attractive.

But Isabella wasn’t just anyone. She was a lesbian. She could only cum with women. So, naturally, it meant more to her. It wasn’t just about acknowledging Clea’s attractiveness. It was about feeling it.

Isabella was definitely attracted to Clea.

You are very attracted to Clea.

The intensity of her newly-discovered attraction more than doubled with the repetition. Suddenly, just thinking about her secretary made Isabella squirm in her chair and sent a thrill-shock of pleasure between her legs. She couldn’t believe an attraction this potent had crept up on her, but maybe it wasn’t surprising, if her lesbianism had too.

It was all but unbearable. How was she going to handle seeing Clea tomorrow? How was she going to not blush and stammer every time she looked at her? The worst part was that Clea was a lesbian too. That made the temptation so much more real.

You can’t resist Clea.

All thoughts of self-control immediately dissolved. Isabella was being washed away by the strength of her new feelings. She couldn’t resist Clea. That thought seemed so sinful. She was Clea’s boss. A level of self-discipline and restraint was absolutely essential in the workplace, but Isabella was starting to doubt she was capable of it.

What did that say about her? What kind of woman was she, to be so hopelessly, irresistibly infatuated by a girl subordinate to her, a girl so much younger than her? It was a shameful thought, but the shame was swept up in her attraction and arousal.

A picture of the new Isabella was starting to emerge. She was a lesbian, she was sexually unsatisfied with her husband, and she was desperately obsessed with her own secretary, Clea Samaras.

The longer she stared at the hypnotic images blaring on her screen, the stronger and stronger Isabella’s new sense of identity became. And there was nothing she could do about it. With her eyes wide, all she could do was sit back, stare, and drool, as the mantra began to repeat over, and over, and over again.

You are a lesbian.

You don’t like men.

You cannot orgasm with men.

You can only orgasm with women.

You are attracted to Clea.

You can’t resist Clea.

You are a lesbian…

---

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

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[narrators-journal]

Ryomina pregnancy headcanons

Decided to give myself a little treat again. A little self-indulgent brownie. Something specifically for me. And this is it! Some headcanons to explore more of that pregnancy au I cooked up! Are they coherent? Probably not. Are they entertaining? I think so! And, I hope you enjoy them as well, because simple writing of the ideas doesn’t always exorcise the demons. I must share, even if it is nothing near serious.

Also btw, yeah none of this is meant to be taken seriously in relation to canon, characterization, or a known au outside of the one fic so far. This little ditty is built specifically out of shit I like about my Ryomina thoughts and mashed together for my own enjoyment when I feel like crap. Just take it as a laugh and maybe some fun food for thought for anyone who wants it.

CW: Pregnancy

Minato

He is stuck in a female presenting form due to magical horny shit, it is not legitimate mpreg.

Despite not normally caring about gender presentation, Minato grows very uncomfortable with being perceived as a woman while he’s pregnant.

Thanks to years of emotional repression and mental illness, the addition of out of control hormones is the equivilent of taking a sledge hammer to very thin glass.

Minato is insanely emotional while pregnant. From crying, to anger, to horny, he can swap on a dime and he tends to feel them pretty fucking strongly.

The pregnancy was nowhere near planned, and to some degree is mostly kept out of curiosity.

Mina does end up attached to the baby, though, so it doesn’t stay purely curiosity for him. Though he might go to his grave before he admits any enjoyment in the pregnancy in any way, shape, or even vague form.

Since Ryoji is not human, so much stronger than him already, and simply used to being attacked for his job, Minato is not at all scared to smack, punch, or bite his partner. At least when the mood swings first start. He ends up mellowing out on the attacks as the emotions are vented.

That being said, he is more often than not wracked with guilt for the outbursts.

Minato is in fact a spoiled brat during this entire thing, though.

As much as he might snap and make demands of Ryoji, Minato struggles to sleep without his partner there. Not only because he hates having to roll himself over or get up on his own, but because he simply enjoys being held.

Ryoji grows very, very, derangedly protective of Minato, and you can bet your sweet ass the wildcard is into it for multiple reasons.

Despite this territorial, homicidal level of guarding, Minato all but threatened his own health for Ryoji to let him stay with the SEES members in one of Mitsuru’s many side homes so that Ryoji didn’t end up completely isolating him.

He ends up getting extra therapy in preparation for the child.

While pregnant, Minato will resort to petty shit to get forbidden treats.

A few of his favorite petty tactics is to effectively stab a stick into Ryoji’s sexual appetite knowing full well his partner is too damned scared to screw him while he’s pregnant, hiding in the house, or simply talking to someone like Junpei knowing very well how territorial ryoji can get.

If pettiness fails, he can always cry on a dime until Ryoji gives him whatever junk food or weird craving he desires.

Ryoji

Thanks to being Death, Ryoji is an insanely nervous father to be.

Not only in his own capabilities as a parent, but also Minato’s general safety during the process.

Because of this, Ryoji will outright kill people for so much as looking too long at his partner, if he’s allowed.

Minato does not let him actually do it, obviously, but it is a very thin leash he’s kept on.

Outside of the anxiety, though, Ryoji is quick to adore and be happy to have a baby. Even if it was an accident, and born out of pure horny whim. Not like he’s going to tell his baby the method in which they were created, after all.

Ryoji nests.

He is also very strict about things like Minato’s diet, amount of sleep, or exercise.

Part of it is because he’s worried for the baby’s and Minato’s general health, the other part is simply out of his own desire to not share Minato with anybody.

Ryoji does know the general basics of how pregnancy works and how breeding works. That being said, the knowledge does jack shit against his fear that his attraction to his pregnant partner is universal, and that if any man so much as flirts with his partner, the baby will no longer be his.

That irrational type of fear, though this time surrounding his role as death god and shadow, is also what keeps Ryoji damn near celibate during the entire pregnancy. Minato hates it.

Ryoji may or may not have a slight bit of a breeding kink.

He puts on a bit of extra weight during the pregnancy that he can’t shape shift away, and the running theory as to why is that Ryoji’s some type of bird and putting on the extra weight for incubation.

That last point is mostly a joke for the SEES built on Ryoji having wings and liking to nest.

[theshiftingwitch]

So like I said to you I manifested my girlfriend back, she wants fo renew our relationship.

Yesterday was her birthday, she came home late and she didn't let me know where she was and she said to me "You don't need to be sad, I got closer to you but it's not for you to give me an headache. Goodnight love💙 when you see this don't comment because I don't want to ruin the first day"

I didn't understood what she meant with first day, and I don't know what to do about this I just want to cry and I don't know what to affirm 😢

I feel so sad, this is literally her old version and I don't want that anymore

She sounds like a bitch.

Gaslighting, manipulation, dismissive of your emotions, making you out to be the overly emotional one while she's out there doing who knows what and excluding you even though you're technically back together.. she is a textbook manipulator.

This has nothing to do with law of assumption but I have to fucking vent right now. Most of you who come in here asking me about your sp genuinely deserve so much better yet you're hanging on to these cretins because, what ? you don't think you can get someone better than her?

You can cry if you want to, I am never one to advocate for repressing your emotions. Cry and scream and let it all out and then get your shit together because this is pissing me off on your behalf. Because she's the one who went out and she's the one who didn't respond to any of your texts and she's the one who was gaslighting you into thinking that you're ruining her birthday and then you are sitting here and crying over what?

You can disregard that part if you feel like it's not relevant to your condition right now but I genuinely had to say something because most of you asking about SPS deserve someone who genuinely shows up right from the very beginning not someone you have to fix or manifest a different version of or summon a demon to get you the one you deserve. you deserve someone who shows up right from the very beginning yet you have to swim through this swamp of terrible people because you are hanging on to them with your dear life.

I would have blocked her, just to be very clear with you, if it was me she said that to, I would have blocked her on every fucking thing.

Now back to the law of assumption because that's what you're here asking about. You are manifesting a new version of her but you are still expecting the old version to show up. There is no other way to spin this story okay? You are affirming for a new version of her but you're still expecting the bitch to show her head every time you talk to her. There are three things here you can do:

1- get a new SP. This is my recommendation, feel free to disregard it, but I genuinely prefer to create an SP from thin air that matches every single fucking one of my desires than to have to deal with these headache-inducing motherfuckers.

2- block her. Not for anything, not because I'm mad, not because you should be mad, but because you are still interacting with the old version of her while you're affirming for a new version of her. Cutting off contact with a person you no longer wish to have in your life is the best way to manifest the new version of them to come into your life because then you won't have to interact with the 3D.

3- take a step back and watch your thoughts. 99% of the time when you are manifesting something and the exact opposite shows up in your 3D it's because the majority of your thoughts are acting against your desires. You might affirm 500,000 times in a day that you have your sp. But the second you stop affirming what happens in your brain? Are you reverting back to the old story, are you sticking with the new story, or are you shooting back and forth between two versions of her that one of them should not exist anymore?

Here's a little exercise that can help you figure out what you're truly thinking about her: sit down, grab a pen and a paper, and write down everything that you feel about her right now. Once you're done with your feelings take a deep breath and watch your thoughts and write them down. The most clarity you're ever going to get is when you let your feelings come to the surface, that is how you know your true thoughts about something. So let yourself feel and then write down what you think when you think of her. Once you know what your dominant thoughts about her are, you can then flip them into positive affirmations and practice making those affirmations your dominant thoughts.

I hope that helps and I'm sorry for the rant because I genuinely feel like you deserve so much better, but somehow you think she's the only one for you. You know when someone messes with me? I ask myself "would the love of my life do this to me?" 100% no and that's how I know that person is not right for me and I move on because there are 8 billion people on this planet and the attachment you think you have to one person will not even measure to the attachment you will create once you find your person. But that's just my personal opinion. Best of luck with your girlfriend and I hope everything works out for you two.

Happy manifesting ❤️

[anti-katsuki-lounge]

Ya know, something I hear a lot of Katsuki Stans claim is that supposedly antis don’t have jobs and that we have tons of free time. It’s something that the Stans would shout when I first started this blog and it was something many people told that person who exposed Dekacchan on Twitter. Now, it’s true that some people really have nothing else to do but hate, but most of the time, it’s not the case.

I’m going to start off with some lore about me. Despite what some of you think, I’m actually quite the busy person. I’m in charge of raising my puppy, and for those of you who have had one, as much as you love them, y’all can agree with me that it’s a lot of work.

“So what? That’s not a job…” some of you might say, and you’d be correct. However, I do have a job, and that job’s taking care of my grandmother. My grandmother’s turning 80. She not only has arthritis, but she’s also got pancreatic cancer. I’ve got to help her bathe, exercise, make food for her, etc. It is a job that I’m getting paid for. The times I’m on this blog is when she’s napping or on the days I have off (Saturdays and Sundays). That’s one of the few breaks I have. Sure, you can say I post a lot, but some of those responses sit in my drafts for like a day or so. This is one of those posts. There are also times where my responses are short, which takes little to no time to respond to. Combine taking care of my grandmother and my puppy and I’ve got quite the hectic schedule.

Oddly enough, you don’t hear these Stans telling their fellow Stans to get a job. Dekacchan’s on Twitter far more often than I am on this blog and she supposedly has a teaching job. If she can find the time to constantly post, then I don’t understand why the Stans try shitting on antis for having the time to run their accounts/blogs too.

In addition, some Stans wonder why people would create a blog/internet persona/etc. dedicated to hating a fictional character/piece of media, etc. Now, I can’t speak for everyone, but there’s three reasons why I created this blog. First off is to create a safe space for people who hate Katsuki to express themselves. If you say anything bad about Katsuki, chances are you’re going to get swarmed by his Stans, and I wanted to do something about that. This blog was the best thing I could think of. Secondly, it’s therapeutic. People write for therapy. It’s an easy and harmless way of processing your thoughts and venting them to likeminded people. Finally, it’s to help me gather my thoughts. See, I love superheroes and I wanna be a writer. MHA’s in my eyes a how to guide on how to fail at writing a superhero story so I study it, note what’s wrong, and come up with solutions in my head for if I ever wanna tackle similar themes in my stories. There’s a difference between shitting on something just cause and pointing out the immense flaws around a piece of work. I’m doing the latter.

Hopefully this helps with dispelling the idea that antis don’t have jobs or hate for no reason.

[menherapunzel]

☁️⭐️ activity/distraction collection 🌸🪽

created 4 me, shared w you ꒰ • last updated: 07/01/24 ꒱

♡ self harm alternatives !

interactive cutting visual (drawn blood)

hold ice till uncomfortable / painful

snap a hair tie / rubber band

open calm harm

watch your clean / sober counter

write a character harming

☆ fun stuff !

play a rhythm game

start a collage

scroll pinterest for art inspiration

take care of your stuffed animals

style an outfit (irl or digital)

make a stimboard

try a random generator

check twitch / youtube

browse your watchlist / reading list (incl. fanfic)

ask a friend to call

rotate your ocs

add to your playlists / make a new one

play a nostalgic game (i suggest aj classic, chicken smoothie, or roblox)

ask for art requests

make jewelry

look at your art / fic ideas

age / pet regress

research ur special interests

design adopts (inspiration: 1, 2, 3, 4)

indulge in a new hobby

play a character creator/dress-up game (dolldivine, pastel girl, picrew...)

♡ calming / draining !

follow a guided meditation

grounding asmr (the locked tomb edition)

do a breathing exercise

rip up paper

clean / rearrange your room (incl. laundry)

“ruin” your art (if you dislike it)

listen to one of your comfort playlists

spend time in a safe & comfortable location

change into soft baggy clothing

sketch vent art (don’t stress)

sit outside

take a bath / shower

take a nap

drink tea

[fandom-go-round]

heyy! could i ask for some headcanons of tfa ratchet (+sentinel, if you can please) dating an ftm human that has a lot of dysphoria concerning their (reader's) face? it'd mean a lot, thank you for your writing -💫

Warnings: Dysphoria (Face), Reader Dysphoria, Negative Self Image, Negative Thoughts, Trans Reader, FTM Reader, Awkward Reassurance (Ratchet), Misplaced Compliments (Sentinel)

Ratchet:

Ratchet doesn’t understand the human emphasis on gender, he really doesn’t. Cybertronians have a looser definition of gender, partly because they aren’t organic. At least that’s his running theory. That’s one of the reasons why he doesn’t see it as a big deal when you come out to him. Ratchet might be gruff but he knows that this is important and will support you 100% of the way.

It takes him a little while to realize that you don’t like looking at your face. At first he thinks it’s just mirrors in general but over time he sees that it’s specially your face. Bumblebee takes a prank too far and you look so shocked and ashamed that Ratchet has to scold the bot to the moon and back. He checks in on you afterwards to see how you’re doing and you confess that looking at your face makes you really dysphoric.

Ratchet listens to everything that you tell him without interrupting, letting you vent and talk through things that have clearly been bothering you for a while. He does step in if you start saying negative things about yourself; you’re his favorite person after all and he won’t stand for it. He’s going to do a lot of research into trans issues after this, both from a professional and personal curiosity. He wants to do what he can to help.

He starts gifting you different types of shirts and hats, experimenting to see which help define your face the way you want to. He’s not the best at fashion but he’s a gay old mech; he gets it. It can be a little embarrassing to have him giving you all these things but it comes from a place of love. Ratchet also makes a habit of complimenting something on your face but not your face itself. He’ll tell you he loves your eyebrows or nose, how your chin looks well defined. These are all private admissions but they mean a lot. The bots learn quickly that if they have any comments about your transness to keep it to themselves; Ratchet has no issue taking someone out back for a ‘training exercise’. He might be old but he has a few tricks up his sleeve.

Sentinel:

Sentinel takes a bit to admit to himself that he loves a human, let alone learning about human culture and nuance. He’s not completely oblivious but he does start paying attention to Jazz more as he talks about Earth and humans. Jazz doesn’t say anything and if he starts talking about your likes and interests more, both would deny it. Sentinel does his own research but it never seems to go as deep as he’d like. When you come out to him, he plays it cool but it mentally taking furious notes so he can look things up later.

As self-centered as he is, that attention also includes you. Sentinel considers you a ‘part of himself’ (both cute and weird) and so he’s always complimenting and praising you. No one is as much of a hype mech as Sentinel, even when you think it might not be the best time. He takes quick notice that you get uncomfortable with compliments to your face and it has him leaning in a little more.

You have to sit down with him and explain that you feel dysphoric for him to back off. He never intents to upset you so if you truly don’t want him making any comments he’ll shut up. All he wants to do is let you know he loves you and the easiest way for him to do that is verbally. Sentinel never thinks that his compliments are over the top but does get embarrassed if people call him out on being lovey dovey (just in case you want some payback). The two of you create clear boundaries on compliments and never once does he cross the line.

Sentinel will push, however, because he does think it helps. He’ll make comments about how your jaw line matches his or he loves to look at you. He also makes a habit of kissing your cheek or part of your face when you’re close by. At first it starts off as a cute way to shower you with affection and silently compliment your face but it soon becomes habit. He nearly gives everyone a spark attack the first time he does it in front of a group but he loves the way you can get embarrassed; it’s an ego boost. Woah the person who tries to be an asshole to you; tries because the moment someone starts to say something he’s all over them. Sentinel has a biting glossia and no one is safe from his wrath if they mess with you. It’s like having a cute, giant metal guard dog. And he loves tummy scratches.

[jan-ala]

On Comprehensible Input

Disclaimer : I am not disagreeing with the comprehensible input theory of language acquisition within the context of the science of linguistics. This post is about a tumor that has grown off of it into the 'science' of pedagogy. Regardless, this is more of a vent post against current instructional strategies than anything. I am not citing any sources, most of what is here is anecdotal.

For those unaware, language classes in K12 have changed a lot since you were in school. Many decades ago, it was primarily a text translation course. Then it became what most of the readers probably had, a course integrating vocabulary and structures into conversational performance. Today, as has been pushed for the last decade or so, we are 'encouraged' to teach with what pedagogy scam artists call a comprehensible input based curriculum.

This largely involves an immersion class with a heavy focus on reading and listening (especially in the novice level) with multimodal texts to guide understanding. To give you an idea of the efficacy of this strategy, almost zero students have achieved a "passing" (4/7) score on the IB DP Language B exams in my district since our coordinator started pushing this. My heavily lauded predecessor at this school had 2s and 3s across the board last year, students on their fifth year of language acquisition.

My current fifth year students have a vocabulary of maybe 200 words, mostly cognates.

I can think of a few reasons why this becomes the case.

Immersion classes at the middle/high school level have a tendency to devolve into the dominant language of the school. Infants learn this way because it is their primary method of communication and interacting with the world around them. In class, the students' dominant language is spoken by everyone in the room (from whom students are constantly seeking validation). This is especially a problem when taking into account class sizes of 30+ students who largely do not even want to be there.

The curricula that are available are weak, untested (scientifically), and teacher-created. Teachers are not curriculum designers, neither by training nor by time allotted. What results is a mish-mash of ideas half-executed, with wide, gaping holes in student knowledge. My Language B coordinator literally just threw a random assortment of various difficulty beginner reader books (one is a story about a capyabara wearing boots, for example) at me with no materials, no guide, no placement within a curriculum. This is not an effective foundation for a high school student's language journey.

Comprehensible Input as a theory is a description of how language is acquired, it is not a prescription for curriculum. Refusing to take into account the differences between someone whose job, 24/7, is exclusively to understand the language enthusiastically, compared to someone who is in a class against their will for maybe 160 minutes per week is ludicrous.

The de-emphasis on output, especially in the beginning levels, leaves students without the tools and muscle memory to become proficient speakers later.

Recently, I have been studying Toki Pona.

Reading the official text, I learned very quickly and very effectively. I made flash cards, read about grammatical constructions, did translation exercises, and assigned myself conversational tasks to practice what I could. Writing very short stories, skits, practicing common dialogue patterns. It has been really fast and effective.

About halfway through the book, I decided to install a game called Toki Pona Island. A self-proclaimed comprehensible input strategy to acquiring the language. I have played for hours, and the only word I have meaningfully retained is alasa (look for, quest, seek). And it is an entire game ABOUT alasa. Every character says it constantly and I had to look it up about 50 times before I forced myself to remember. Even then, while writing this, I originally wrote it as asala before I looked it up for accuracy. So, in effect, nothing was meaningfully learned.

[red-balloon12]

Doing a writing exercise for some Mare angst based on @plummayor ‘s latest art piece cuuuuus…vent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mare blinked, tears streaming down his face that covered his artificial ones as he stared at his host.

A pang if understanding went through him. He understood Nate’s anger…his pain…his sadness.

But then…the more he thought about it……the more unfair his anger seemed.

He pushed himself away from Nate. His eyes lowered and his own anger started to grow.

“I…I never asked for this…to be made. I never wanted this. They created me, Nate. Not me. And I understand your hurting..you’re pain..”

His voice started to rise as he started to walk, slowly backing Nate up. His host’s eyes started to soften little by little..

“But here’s the thing you don’t seem to understand…

And then silence. It was deafening…suffocating.

“I’m not real. You are. You can exist without me…with out them! We both know that years from now I’m going to fade away while you’re still living on, smiling and loving your DAMN LIFE!”

His voice roared and Nate actually felt himself flinch a little. Mare was now up close to him. His eyes were glowing with purple rage. Now it was Nate’s turn to listen…

“YOU DON’T GET TO BE MAD AT A FUCKING CHARACTER YOU’VE NEVER HAD A PROBLEM IGNORING FOR YEARS! I’VE HAD TO SIT HERE IN THIS VOID WAITING YOU TO COME BACK FOR ME..FOR US AND THIS IS THE FIRST THING YOU DO TO ME?!”

Mare panted heavily, his face burning with anger and wet with tears.

“I’m sorry you feel this way…Nathan….you have the privilege to fix it.”

He turned away and took a few steps forward to walk away from his host before he stopped.

“I don’t.”

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

no tws, general topic of therapy / finishing therapy

any tips on how to deal with the change of having been in therapy twice a week for 3-4 years to no therapy at all anymore? i would love if other people shared their experiences as well? thanks!

hey there,

It can be a tough transition, but there are many things you can do to make it easier and cope. Make sure you are taking care of your basic needs. Eat enough, sleep enough, have water, sunshine, and exercise. I think the main thing is to practice self care and self compassion. Give yourself extra love and attention. Be kind to yourself.

If making meals is hard, here are some no-cook meals that are easy. Have a look at our sleep tag if you're struggling with that.

If you find yourself forgetting to do certain things, like drinking water, changing body positions, showering, etc, set a reminder or two in your phone. Here are some stretches. Here is a youtube vid of beginner's yoga. Here is advice for exercising.

Here is our meditation tag. There are a number of meditations on youtube. Body scans, deep breathing, guided walks, stories, sleep meditations, etc.

I recommend journaling and maybe making a gratefulness journal where you write 3 things you're grateful for every day. You can vent, track sleep or other things, or just write to get away from things.

Check in your community for free groups. Sometimes meditation or self care or some other groups are offered. There are also websites and apps that may be useful to you.

Create a routine for yourself. People tend to do well with routines. Eating, sleeping, resting, and exercising at the same time everyday can help build habits. But take it slow and be kind to yourself. Things don't change overnight, as I'm sure you know.

Here is a page of coping skills. Try to practice them when you are feeling okay.

If anyone who sees this is willing to share as well, please do! You can send a message on or off anon, or reply on this post. Thanks!

I hope everything goes well!

Mod Misa

[magpiefngrl]

17.03.2024

It's a long weekend here because of the Carnival. It's funny--I have one (1) day off and I've managed to:

a. finish and post a drarry PWP I began months ago (The Bet--I know. I hate the title too.)

b. identify the main problem that stops me from making progress with my original fic.

Imagine what I could do with more free time. This year's commute is truly killing me. The fact that our first long weekend was so late, because Easter is so late this year, has also killed me. I'm always tired, always busy with something else, always behind with things.

Anyhow, my problem with my orig is that I don't have a clear handle on one of the leads. One of them, let's call him Prince A, is fine: I know exactly what he needs, what his problem is, what he'll have to learn/accept/overcome.

Prince B, though? It's like my brain slides over him; he's slippery and I can't grasp him. I keep deciding what he wants and needs and what his main goal is etc etc and then it slips away from me. It doesn't fit him. I keep changing my mind about him. Is he smirking and sly and clever? Is he cold and restrained? Is he indolent and indulgent? I like all of the ideas but can't settle on one.

I read the other day about an exercise that is meant to help with plotting/figuring out the main structure of your story, and I tried to do it now. It was clear as day that I have no clue who the fuck this character is. It's no wonder I've got Prince A's POV chapter done ages ago and that I've rewritten Prince B's chapter god knows how many times--and it's still not right.

I've written lots of original before drarry. I've never had that exact problem. I had a feel for the characters and created them instinctively. This one resists.

Moving on, the last lines exercise was truly illuminating. I am shocked that 85% of my endings are: dialogue + some form of touching. I've finished today's fic the exact same way. I also realised I hated the sequel ending of Through the Looking Glass and went and revised that scene.

Lots of thoughts about writing today. It's like as soon as I took a break from the hectic routine, the dam broke and the thoughts are all pouring out. I've also got some tangled ideas about the planning I need to do before I start writing, and how it fits with the writing-as-a-performance thing I read once, which I might leave for a newsletter/substack (both of which I've sorely neglected this year).

OK vent over. I'm going to do some googling and seek advice on how to finalise characterisation of an OC.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

I think I will go crazy, I hate exams with my whole heart, it sucks and gets me really, really nervous

Oh anon…

I hear you. & Your feelings are valid. ♥️♥️

It hurts my heart to hear you’re feeling that you’ll go crazy, hatred towards exams, more nervous than normal… Take a deep breath for me. Try processing and letting go some of those emotions? Creating art, making music, getting some exercise, and writing are just some examples of ways to process your anxiety. You’re doing so good. You can do this. I believe in you.

Exams can be extremely stressful and nerve wrecking… Take a deep breath. I’m so proud of you for reaching out about it. Maybe ask someone you know for some help? Use the support you have around you. Try not to overthink it.

I’m always here if you want to talk, vent, chat, etc. Wishing you a lovely day/night! 🥰🥰🥰 Remember, you are not alone. We’re all here for you!!

Talk with Me 🩷