extremely extremely tiring to be around people who just vehemently hate themselves. nobody benefits from you acting like this. cruelty to the self is still cruelty. if i was at an art gallery admiring a piece by van gogh or in a library reading a beautiful poem and you walked up to me and went Ewww thats so bad... you think its good? youre wrong its really bad :/ you would be a certified piece of fucking shit it is not different just bc its your creation instead of someone else's. if a stranger walked up to me and started ranting about how they thought my friend was annoying and ugly i would punch them in the gut. it is not different just because you are saying this about yourself. nobody wants to hear it
paraphrasing my tags from another reblog chain here but this does not come from a place of ignorance. i am intimately familiar with self hatred and the mindset that leads people to talk like this and the REASON i stopped acting like a jackass and spouting this shit 24/7 is because i realized that it was not just about me. it was hurting other people. and i made the concious decision to stop doing that and to begin the proccess of training myself out of those thought patterns and out of saying that stuff. im not telling you to Just Stop but i am saying you CAN. you are not a slave to your mental illness you have agency over your life and your behaviors - your mental illness may make it more difficult to do certain things but that doesnt mean you dont have a responsibility to TRY if it's hurting other people.
One of the things that drives me away from a relationship most is if I give the other. person a compliment and they reject it.
“You’re so handsome.” “No I’m not.”
I see it and feel it the exact same way as if I said “What a beautiful sunset” and someone said “No it’s not, it’s ugly.” I was in a place of joy and you just injected something very unpleasant and life-denying into that space and that hurts.
I am here appreciating the world. You, as a human being, are part of that world. You’re a natural phenomenon and people have a right to find you beautiful and good and worthy. That is an expression of THEIR joy and enjoyment of the world. They are not incorrect.
They are expressing their aliveness and ability to perceive, they are right in the heart of what makes it worthwhile and joyful to be alive, and you should not come to that special place within someone you love and tell them it’s wrong to feel the way they feel.
I totally get that it may sound fake and ridiculous to you when someone compliments you, and it’s ok to acknowledge that. “I know you mean it when you say it, but my brain won’t let me believe it right now. But thank you. I will keep trying.”
But ultimately, the goal is to get to a place where you can just say “thank you.”
gosh okay. i’m still having a pinch me moment over this. i’ve spent about a year and a half on tumblr and reaching 5000 is just… crazy to me. like, imagining that many people in a room is horrifying. i know it’s just a value at the end of the day, but in all honesty, i’m a little scared of the number. scared but so so grateful. i will never be anything but grateful for the attention and love this story has received. truly.
i don’t know how to thank you all correctly, but in honour of the milestone, i will be hosting a small giveaway. as as last time, please make sure you’re following me and reblog this post if you want to enter. i’ll close the giveaway on the 25th of november and dm the winners on here, so make sure your messages are open as well.
prizes.
a 1000 word drabble with your hunter and an ro of your choice (platonic or romantic) or a fun drabble between two ros
a 500 word drabble (same rules as above)
early access to the next short story i’m writing for the midnight hours: shorts, which can be found on my itch.io page
good luck and thank you again!! i know i’ve said this a million times over but truly, i’ll say it a million more times. for a girl like me, this entire experience has been a fucking dream.
crime. cars. cash.
unfulfilled at work, struggling for money and witnessing the exponential success of your best friend, you learn that your intel at autoluxe insurance services™ is not entirely useless. the call for a new opportunity arrives, abruptly dragging you down into an underground car-theft ring. meet a crew that runs a shady auto body business and face the world that is fuelled by greed, risk, ego... and a lot of gasoline.
chop shop is a crime-action in development. this story is strictly +18 for language, themes and potential explicit content.
DEMO DROP – 3RD DEC '22 | PROLOGUE + CH. 01
genre – crime, action, thriller.
player character creation – determine your pc’s appearance, personality, background and gender identity.
character driven narrative – bond with many side characters and the main crew, conceal your new double life, test morality within an underground criminal enterprise and witness the growth of your new counterparts.
pursue relationships or play the field – flirt, fuck and find out.
learn the tricks of the trade – gain skills in high-speed driving, lock-picking, pickpocketing, mechanics and critical-thinking to pull off espionage jobs, boost cars and uncover secrets.
what's your motive? – fuel your need for adrenaline or play it safe, reap the rewards to help out those in need or keep the money to yourself for your own spending pleasure.
your choices matter. crime always comes with consequences
Four – [he/him, 41] – the mourning | the team principal [limited] – an unnatural team leader, skilled mechanic and annoyingly strong headed; four provides the rocky foundation of this operation. still troubled and unable to accept personal loss, guilt threatens the cracks of his struggling business.
Dilani – [they/she, 36] – the resenting | the analyst [limited] – unable to fulfil family expectations, dilani turned their genius elsewhere. logically minded and technologically adept, she can crack any computer systems, infiltrate any network or whip up a gadget in no time.
Sunny – [he/him, 33] – the searching | the artist – after flunking out of art school, sunny’s expert craft is expressed out on the road, transforming and fine-tuning cars into unrecognisable beauties – whether it be for genuine customers or to dupe law enforcement.
Maz – [they/them, 28] – the recovering | the driver – former up and coming superstar, maz was ready to inherit greatness. now an embarrassment to the family and unable to face their reality, they turned to the back-alley car world.
Aimee – [she/her, 30] – the reforming | the thief – with no real life-goal in sight, aimee's made a living out of taking what's not hers. whether it be a pen, a partner or the keys to that porsche outside. but for how long is this job sustainable?
Rating: General
Pairing: Ashti/Crown Zareen
Genre: Romance / Fluff
Warnings: None
Word Count: 917
This is my emotional support fluff about my emotional support wlw <3
Read it on AO3
The bedroom is bathed in golden dawn—all the Crown’s vibrant silks and fineries glittering as the shadows play across the surface. The air is sharp and cold, but its harsh bite is made dull by the luxurious furs draped across the bed.
Beneath the furs and blankets is a rich heat, the sort that melts the stresses of the day away and weighs the bones of the weary down into restful sleep. It draws a sigh from Zareen’s lips as she feels her being come to consciousness—and yet, she could drown in unquenchable sleep if she’d only let herself.
At her side, the steady presence of her Soul, Ashti, brings a smile to her face. Wakefulness has not found her yet, and Zareen finds herself grateful that her bleary golden eyes may take in the soft lines of her lover’s sleeping face. The long dark lashes that just barely tickle her cheeks, the dimple that hides at the corner of her lips—it is all too much for Zareen whose heart is filled to bursting with an aching that only intensifies as she stares in silence. She wants to close the distance, to forsake the blood that courses through her veins and replace it with her.
With a hesitant hand, Zareen reaches her fingers out across the short span between them. Her fingers come to rest upon Ashti’s cheek, ghosting over her skin. With the tentativeness of one who is attempting something forbidden, she allows her thumb to caress warm skin. She boldly rests her palm along Ashti’s jaw, careful not to disturb her, as once she does, she risks shattering the moment, risks sending her beloved tumbling back into the circus of her daily life.
And, oh, it is love. Nothing but love, pure and heavy as honey, that drowns the still beating drum in her chest. She can taste it in the words she holds at the tip of her tongue, that she must not let spill lest they propel the two of them into reality. Alas, not even the authority of the Crown can halt time and leave them as they are in the morning’s ethereal glow. Ever a fickle antagonist of love, time moves forward, and moments end.
Calloused fingers close around Zareen’s hand, they gingerly move her hand down over Ashti’s lips and a kiss is left at the center of her palm.
Smiling green eyes open slowly. “Were you watching me sleep?” Ashti’s voice is still thick with sleep, rumbling out the back of her throat.
Zareen frees her hand, revealing the wry smile beneath it, and rests it against Ashti’s shoulder. “I was, yes,” she admits, pressing her cheek into the pillow. “You’re quite lovely just like this, Ashti darling.”
Ashti is taken aback. She presses her lips together into a line and averts her gaze for a moment before bringing the heat of her eyes back onto the Crown. An amused smile plays at her lips. “High praise coming the loveliest woman these eyes have beheld. I must be the luckiest woman alive to be able to grasp such radiance in the palm of my hand, even for a just moment.”
It is not the first time Ashti has flustered Zareen so, and if the Spirits favored her, it would not be the last. Yet, each softly spoken word at her lover’s lips never fails at throwing her heart into a frenzy. And much like a child playing a game, Ashti grins like she’d won. Language has completely abandoned Zareen. The words she’d been holding in dissolve, the letters scattering like flower petals on the wind.
“Ashti…” she attempts, and it is all she can attempt. That is the last and only word which springs to the front of her mind no matter how desperately she searches.
Ashti’s hand comes to rest on Zareen’s cheek. She moves her index finger to trace a line from her eyes, down her hairline and along her jaw until her fingers are cupping Zareen’s chin. “We don’t have to speak, my Soul,” she says softly.
There is a rush of wind as Ashti tenderly pulls their faces together—or perhaps Zareen is imagining it. Perhaps it is the ocean of Ashti’s presence that rushes onto the shore, sweeping her into the depths. She feels it in her hair and under her skin, lighting up every single nerve in her body. In a flurry of animation, Zareen returns the kiss in kind, arms wrapped around Ashti’s neck, legs hooking her in under the sheets.
Ashti laughs into the kiss, moving to place a peck at the corner of Zareen’s lips and then another higher upon her jaw, just under her ear. “Easy,” she mumbles into her skin. “I’m not going anywhere.”
This does not ease the Crown’s grip on her lover. She buries her face in Ashti’s shoulder, placing a small kiss on her collar. She curls her fingers in the fabric of Ashti’s shirt.
“But how long will this moment last?” The question is small, muffled against Ashti’s shoulder.
She is love, again—love, itself—who presses her lips into Zareen’s hair; her warm exhale of breath which caresses the freckles on her forehead. She feels her tender hand resting at the base of her neck, tracing circles into her skin. And into the chill of dawn, a chill that digs into the furs and pokes through their defenses, the answer is spoken.
Accidentally admitting that the other is really pretty, leading to both of them getting very flustered
Quickly sewing back the loose button of their shirt that came off at the last minute, realising that you two are extremely close
Pretending to be married for reasons, feeling very giddy whenever someone refers to you two as a couple
Walking past a busy crowd, hands entwining on their own and then realising it after someone points it out
Rambling about something you both love and all you can do is stare at them lovingly, when suddenly they also turn to look at you and now you're both just staring at each other
Making lucky charms for each other, being reminded of the other whenever they look at it
Fixing each other's clothes (+ if they say "you look good")
Learning more about their interests so they have a common thing to talk about
Thinking that the other doesn't like them in that way, while their friends watch both of them become an incoherent mess in front of each other, wondering when they'll finally ask each other out
More positivity for fat darkskinned black women. Like I’m tired of them not being seen as beautiful or as smart as lighterskinned black women. Colorism goes a long way, and I’ve started to see in combine with fatphobia toward darker skinned fat women. So here’s to positivity for beautiful, smart and important fat darkskinned black women.
she/they - child of the seas - persuasion 11 - strength 5
she is half-elf, half-human, and half-bitch. kajin has a very warped sense of friendship and because of this their relationship with aeran has become VERY strained. (she's currently at 5 relationship points. strained? HA more like completely broken)
she's one of my saddest mcs because her and aeran used to be so close when they were young (they both trained with varyn) but after graduation kajin changed and aeran changed. they genuinely can't stand being around each other now.
if you have not already (which who am i kidding? you DEFO have already have) PLEASE play wayfarer by @idrellegames it's freaking fantastic
— SPLIT THE BODY ASUNDER is a medieval-inspired, low fantasy and character-driven interactive fiction about opening people up—be it by scalpel or a coaxing whisper.
You are a physician who has taken over your late master’s practice on the outskirts of the capital and, unbeknownst to you, a heavy debt that forces you to work as a caretaker to a purportedly ill countess. Unfortunately, you suspect you’re not the only one vying for her money… though you may be the only one willing to keep her alive for it. Bring to light the tensions that have plagued Castle Blesser for far too long and be quick; the body can only tolerate so much, after all.
customize your MC from identity to background to appearance.
hone your preferred skills - are you known for your knowledge of pharmacy or for your finesse at surgery? or is your approach altogether more spiritual?
choose your disposition with patients - how’s your bedside manner? are you receptive or paternalistic?
wear an extremely stylish beaked mask, obviously, to keep your health intact and identity concealed. will you ever let the public see the person beneath it all?
work is important but it’s not everything. seek a romance with a scrupulous vassal, a charismatic rogue, or a rather dubious fellow doctor - or choose to keep things strictly professional.
(17+ general content warning for death, gore, strong language, and sexual content. reader discretion advised.)
thanks for reading! reblogs and questions/feedback are always super helpful and appreciated! more info under the cut.
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gummygunk
ellievsbear
germansingergirl
blakekathryn
izzy806
romaincrisis
dailybridgerton
