#🪻 post

[systastic]

if you're not too busy rn, could you do a level 2 headmate pack for a feminine kelpie? the vibes are the song "it will come back" by hozier. especially the following lyrics!

"Don't let me in with no intention to keep me

Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me

Honey, don't feed me, I will come back"

tysm!!!! :3 picrews of a humanoid form are okie. and for the more horse form, maybe some breed of draft horse?

yo. found a dope picture instead, so we went with that. plus u can buy this print and put it on ur wall (or in a system notebook). -🪻

name :: loch, nellie, nori, leith, algea*, nosoi*, strygia*, pthisis**, achlys**, oizys**, lyssa**

age :: 65 (selkies have a lifespan of about 100 to 150 years!)

pronouns :: it/its, hy/hyr, mye/myr, ðe/ðim/ðir/ðirs (ð is pronounced "th")

roles :: conceptive (swamps, deep forests), memorative, library keeper, swimmer, controller, emotenoir (takes && dampens emotions), insider (first def.), mónosmalet

species :: kelpie

gender identity :: kelecoric, swampgender, gloomgender, plantintudom, willowgender

orientation :: abrosexual, heuromantic

source :: scottish myth/fairytale

aesthetic :: gloomcore, soft macabre, strega

appearance description :: nori’s base form is that of a large draft horse that is deep green in color. dark and stringy kelp-like hair hangs limp from its mane and tail. its teeth are skeletal, some appearing more like a carnivore’s than an herbivore, and its cheeks are see-through. nellie’s eyes are hollow and glow with a pale white color when mye uses myr powers. its human form may be either male or female; admittedly, it prefers the female form more, but both are viable for use. both of its human forms look alike: a handsome, attractive figure with sultry details to entice humans into coming closer. thin dark green hair hangs in ðir face, obscuring half of ðir features — but ðir beauty remains plain as day. lyssa will attract other headmates and pull them into hyr swamplands, either forcing them out of front, into dormancy, or into hyr personal area of headspace. those who are in hyr headspace find themselves with suppressed emotions and unable to leave until strygia allows them. additionally, being stuck in strygia’s headspace grants alters the ability to access memories that they did not previously know existed/have seen before. once returned to active headspace, the memories one has seen slowly fade from their mind until they are repressed once again.

personality description :: nosoi is mute — it does not speak in a human tongue nor will it attempt to write out words for others to understand. it prefers to stay silent, watching others as they do their tasks and observe the system’s normal functioning. it sometimes appears to be curious about headspace, poking and prodding at different levers and switches to see what happens. loch is curious on a fundamental level: it wants to know why things work the way they do, why things are set up in certain ways, and why people don’t seem to understand non-verbal communication. it operates through dragging people to its headspace and showing them memories it thinks they need to know before returning said headmate back to where they came from. in all truth, pthisis is an entity of mystery and occasional chaos; it does what it does to try and help, but its real motives are never quite understood even by those closest to it.

image source here

* == name of a mythological species, be careful if using!

** == name of a god, be careful if using!

[sappho-made-me-do-it]

finger fuck her and make her cum over and over again till you are satisfied.

[till-we-become-monsters]

Doing a notes post cus why not?

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

30 notes - ill go through my closet and get rid of what I don’t want

60 notes -I’ll try and draw everyday/finish old projects

90 notes - ill try and brush my teeth everyday

100 notes - I’ll finish the mural on my wall

130 notes - I’ll try and finish the books I started

160 notes - I’ll try and figure out my hair type (straight, wavy, curly)

190 notes - I’ll try and take care of my hair the way it’s meant to be taken care of

200 notes - I’ll try and wear my glasses all the time

300 - I’ll try to go outside more

400 - I’ll try and eat at least one meal every day

500 - I’ll try and take care of my cuts a little bit better

600 - I’ll try and talk to my parents about things even though they probably won’t listen (don’t do this to me- /hj)

700 - I’ll try and stay clean for a whole school week (5 days straight)

800 - I’ll try and eat two meals a day

900 - I’ll try and stay clean for a whole week (7 days)

1K - I’ll try to find a online therapist (because asking my parents for one is scary (don’t do this to me plz /hj))

2K - I’ll try and stay clean for a whole MONTH. (30 days)

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

More to be added when I figure it out

SPAMMING IS OK

(probably gonna regret saying that-)

[systemblr]

autistic system* culture is fakeclaiming yourself for “not having” symptoms you do have, but aren’t thinking about because you’re too focused on the literalness of the wording

*or any other conditions

[nutluvs]

they're all my husbands it's canon we're all happy

[axellis]

"Let us return, back to home- free of the fog"

[cold--carnage]

in my humble opinion as someone with multiple cluster b disorders including bpd, the aim shouldn't be to "cure" it at all, because trauma cannot be cured and this is not an attainable goal, which sets an unfair precedent for us ourselves as victims of the disorder. the aim should instead be to heal and rehabilitate to a point where you can cope with the behaviors you've developed that are connected to the trauma. healing will happen, but the desire to "cure" all "sick" people is not a helpful stance to have and is way more damaging than it is helpful. hurt people don't need to be "cured" so much as just understood and helped. "curing" us is very much a medicalized idea that bases a person's worth on their ability to function. you and your struggles will always be valid, whether you heal or not, whether you're "cured" or not <3

[goldengirliez]

oml, please help me, I can't stop thinking about giving head to Manila Mikey.

Idea from this drabble! ☆

02:53 pm

We all know how Mikey is, deep inside that apathetic shell of his, his empty heart and dull eyes, he's aching uncontrollably to feel anything aside from that void that consumes his senseless.

He gets so overwhelmed that he often forgets to eat, shower, and take care of himself with basic actions.

But he has you. His beloved, his light in the darkness, his anchor during the storm that keeps him grounded.

Even on days when intrusive thoughts caress his skin alluringly, you're there to keep them away from your man, you're there and keep him alive.

Just like today.

It's a hot, clammy day: no matter how many windows you may want to open, the air won't just come in to cool down your dripping skin, the oppressive weather creeps through your lungs and violates them, taking away the oxygen you need way too soon.

You're hot, you are bored and you're tired of waiting for your boyfriend to get out of the shower so you can get it all for yourself.

Your bare feet tap softly against the floor, quickly moving towards the bathroom where you left your beloved around thirty minutes ago, ready to scold him for taking so long.

You put your hand on the golden, rusty doorknob and turn it silently. Pushing the wooden panel open with a small "creak" sound, the humidity of the post-shower air invades your senses, inserting in between the fabric of your soft garments and dampening your skin even so slightly.

Your eyes immediately fall on the figure in front of you, seated on the glossy, black stool next to the sink.

Mikey's head is dropped low, his wet liquorice hair is covering his pale, porcelain skin: his onyx eyes are slightly visible to you and they are surely lost in nothingness. He's sitting still, not moving a muscle as if he didn't even notice you enter before.

You're not going to scold that poor angel for a fucking shower: you're going to scold yourself for not taking it with him. He often gets lost in thoughts and that's not a good sign at all.

"'jiro, what's wrong?"

You carefully step closer to him, crouching down to his level and cradling his fluffy cheeks in your hands: slowly blinking his eyes, as if was slowly waking up from a peaceful dream, he looks up at you desperately.

"Please, make them shut the fuck up".

Often the best way to silence your thoughts is to focus on something louder than the voices inside your head.

That's what Mikey needs right now.

Usually, he would let you suck him off to your heart's content but that's not what he needs right now: he needs to feel loved, cared about and seen. He needs to know he's there with you and not anywhere else lost in his mind.

You can feel the hardness of the cold tiles underneath your knees as you kneel in front of him, which is in contrast with the hotness of that cute, pinkish mushroom head of his shaft and the smoothness of his skin in your palm.

Manjiro's eyes are focused on you, just like you asked him to: they are completely blown out, his angelic face has a cherry red hue on his cheeks, and his lips are slightly puffy due to his constant biting in them.

When your tongue gently wraps around the tip and sucks on it harshly, squeezing with your hand the base of his dick (just how he likes it) his onyx irises roll in the back of his skull and his hand goes straight to his mouth, muffling with a hum one of his pretty moans.

Just when you take him deeper, your ears are blessed with his unfiltered voice, a desperate call of your name: you can feel his hardness make its way down your throat gradually, and the salty taste of his pre on your taste buds makes you salivate.

Just when his cock touches the back of your throat your eyes water and not because of the burning sensation or the ache of your jaw but because of his goddamn pretty face.

Manjiro's wet liquorice hair is sticking to his damp forehead due to the water of the shower he took; onyx orbs are staring deeply into your soul, flickering up and down your face not knowing where to focus; sweat is dripping down his defined jaw and sliding on his bobbing adam apple every time he gulps; his black undershirt is sticking to his string chest; his tattooed neck is stretched to the side as he can barely keep his head up due to how good you're making him feel.

He's a masterpiece and he's all yours.

"Baby... Y-You're taking it so fucking deep– oh fuck!"

It wouldn't take long for you to bob your head according to his liking when his calloused hand touches your cheek and smoothly runs up through your hair, gripping it slightly so it won't cover your eyes.

The burn in your throat might be becoming unbearable but having your man scream your name endlessly is what keeps you up: his whole attention is on you, you're the only one he's thinking about, you're the only one he's feeling.

You can feel him throb against the walls of your mouth, his veins pulsating underneath your skilled tongue: you take him out with a slurping sound and begin to fist his cock, squeezing the tip and gripping the base, fiddling with his balls, wanting to coo at him as a last push. Your sugar-coated sweet-nothings are the most sincere as you look into his eyes with heart-shaped ones almost: good boy, I love you, baby, this is all for you.

After a dark time that day, he's finally seeing stars.

Mikey's orbs shine with the tears that roll down his burning cheeks, his voice is desperate and whiny, unable to keep up with the pace you're setting just for him.

Wet, squelching sounds that echo through his ears along with your praises are like a melody and when his hand comes on top of yours as you keep on moving it fast, you know you've done the trick.

"Ah– oh, shit! B-baby, I- I'm- I- please".

As you kiss lovingly his inner thigh which is decorated with every shade of red because of the blooming love marks you gave him, he feels a shock of electricity run down his spine.

As a blissed cry of your name booms out of his chest, his eyes scrunch shut and his head gets thrown back, you're already there to put your mouth on his throbbing tip and keep his love seed into your mouth, safe and sound.

He takes a while to calm down, but when he does he doesn't hesitate to get you on his lap and hug you close, whispering with a heavy breath how much he loves you, how grateful he is for having you by his side and an endless string of thank you.

You're both dripping in sweat, fuming due to the heated act you had so the sudden thin, delicate breeze that comes in from the bathroom door makes you sigh contently.

Manjiro's the one to speak first "I guess we need to shower again", he chuckles... His genuine laugh makes your lips curl into a fond smile as you take his hand in yours and kiss his knuckles gently.

"I'll do it with you so I'll keep the bad thoughts away this time".

He loved the sound of that.

I'm experimenting with new kinds of writing so I don't know how I feel about this drabble: it was simply living in my head rent-free–

I hope you enjoyed reading this drabble!

English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes!

Sending y'all hugs. ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

©GOLDENGIRLIEZ do not repost or modify on any platform.

[kandycats-art]

Forneus my beloved <33 I still need to do the post game stuff with her

[systastic]

Hihihi!!! Would you be able to make a level 3 apathy holder headmate? Some sort of dark god/eldritch diety vibes perhaps?

got super inspired by this one. cw for unreality, heavy existentialism, and body horror. -🪻

name :: the (old) hag, the witch, the old crone, it who waits. it does not reveal its true name to just anyone. the hag reveals her name only to the chosen: Rya’ghihuru.

age :: old. older than you, older than me, older than the very first flicker of existence in the eyes of this universe’s creator. its existence eludes human understanding.

pronouns :: preferably no pronouns. the hag will let its followers use she/her, it/its, they/them, or rot/rots.

roles :: apathy holder, cassmate, existential distractor.

species :: elder god.

gender identity :: ahuman. the witch refuses to assign itself a gender; none would ever describe it in its entirety, nor will it be used once humanity is gone.

orientation :: humans have interesting ways of amusing themselves… she will not partake in it.

source :: aethergenic.

aesthetic :: dethereal, soggy, monstercore, liminal space

appearance description :: this world is not designed for the hag. fleshy tendrils spill out from under its cloak, seeping into the ground to consume anything around it. life cannot exist within a certain radius near the hag. she knows it to be so and acts in accordance. it so kindly wears a human face, one of stretched skin and hollowed-put eyes, when appearing to a human. its body is composed of tangled, writing worm-like parasites that latch to things that live and suck the souls - better noted as their entire existence - from the space it embodied.

personality description :: it does not hunger for life, no; the destruction of humanity is simply inevitable. all will be consumed one way or another. to let it fall to the old crone is a mercy. other invaders will distort the world, bend it to their will, demolish, raze, twisting and corrupting the world to their image of perfection. the old crone has no such goals. it knows existence is impermanent; thus, when the end comes, it will consume the world and wipe any trace of it from history.

likes :: observation of life up until its inevitable end. the quiet serenity of the void. consuming existence so all may return to rot. the end of all things. consumption of the world. cyclical existence: what is born must die, what dies creates new life, and so shall the cycle continue evermore. when that cycle finally stops, the old crone will be there, ready to end the existence of this dimension.

dislikes :: nihilism (how can humans speak as though they can understand existence? to say it has no point is to undermine the cycle of living. without it, holding onto a never-ending existence, is to defy the law of all things. only a fool challenges an inevitable reality), artificial intelligence as it has no “existence”, deities created by communal delusion, those who seek to disrupt the cycle, those who feel far too much compared to what something is truly “worth”, and those who do not accept the truth of this world: that life will end someday, and humans do not live forever.

front triggers :: existentialism (to live or to die; what does it? what is the purpose of a life? the hag knows. it knows that the existence itself is the reason for existing.) also speaking of death as a concept, rotting or dead beings, and decay.

signoff :: none. the witch does not announce her comings or goings. all that is needed is the hag’s presence. if absolutely necessary, will use 🪱.

image source here

[sappho-made-me-do-it]

what if i planted a kiss on your throat while I called you my pretty girl?

[systemblr]

its so refreshing to finally feel like you’re an individual after being a fragment for so long. i like my own foods, listen to my own music, watch different shows & sports, and i have thoughts and feelings of my own that i (sometimes) can identify.

[benjingle]

Continuation of this

Thistle is the best one here I just got lazy on the rest since it's late lolol

[nutluvs]

HE'S SO FUCKCGIJN IGIGIJJI U4RHG ETIERIFHVERUHGYRE8HAERVHUER WHST INT HE WORLD. i love him in the warm lighting and i need more of it

[axellis]

dinner with your loved ones can be so fun! even if two of them arent quite ready to call themselves that yet..

[ask-emile-sdv]

mod here!

you guys should perhaps leave suggestions on idea for more emile doodles that I may or may not do

why? bc I love this man dearly he is my son and I love to bully him I mean draw him