#(it’s their fault definitely)

[uncanny-tranny]

I think so many people are so deeply alienated from themselves that they have no clue how to exercise their free will and autonomy. For some, this alienation runs so deep that they are afraid of their own autonomy and humanity. It is completely understandable why one would have those feelings, but it can be worrisome.

I want to help others who feel this way, so here are small things I have done to exercise my free will:

Add "guilty pleasure" songs to playlists and actually listen to them (I have a ton of late 1990s-early 2000s music I listen to now proudly that I never listened to in the past out of shame)

Getting the décor item, bath set, bed spread, ect. in the patterns you like, even if it's "childish" (I got a dinosaur-themed wastebasket from the kids' décor section and I adore it)

Taking a new route to get to a place you go to often

Eat dessert first

Celebrate well, and often

Collect things that are "odd" or don't seem like an "acceptable" thing to collect (somebody on my "for you" page collects dandelion crayola crayons and it was so cool!!!!!!)

Incorporate one new piece in an outfit you wear frequently (e.g., a new chain, a necklace, ribbons, bracelets, ect.). Challenge yourself to add onto the outfits if you feel up for it.

Sing along to songs without worrying that you sound "good" or your intonation is completely accurate

Read a book from a genre you weren't allowed to read as a kid (comics, thrillers, mysteries, anything!)

Walk without having a specific destination or goal

Pick up a new craft without expecting yourself to master it or to ever be "good" enough. Get your hands messy.

I don't want to shame anybody for not feeling as though they have free will or that they are exempt from exercising it. However, I wanted to give ideas so that you might read this list and find your own ways to express your intrinsic autonomy and will. You deserve to be a person, to feel alive, not just living. That is what our lives are for.

[chloesimaginationthings]

The aftermath of Elizabeth getting scooped in FNAF..

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

[evie-doesnt-write]

[yrdnzz]

and i got eyes on the back of my head, i got eyes everywhere so i know where you go

[itsdefinitely]

this is how richie's death went in my head

[cinnamonest]

Thinking about very well-endowed boys, perhaps endowed a little too much for their own good — with no idea how to properly use the thing.

No self-awareness, no experience. The moment you give a green light, this man just shoves his way in like a battering ram. You were at least expecting some degree of foreplay or buildup, but you don't get that. He has the audacity to tilt his head and hm?when you jolt and hiss.

Oh. It hurts you? You probably just didn't relax enough. That's okay. You'll feel better soon. You don't even get time to tell him that it's because he has no self-awareness of his size before you're tensing up and gasping again when it just slides out and slams back in. You see stars, and not in a good way.

You stutter out something about being too big. But big is good, right? That's what he's always heard. So it's just a matter of you getting to adjust. That'll definitely happen as he goes. No worries.

You're pretty sure your cervix hates you for making the decision to sleep with this boy, a choice you're sort of coming to regret as you find yourself pulled close to him with a harsh grip on your waist — that, too, is something he seems lacking self-awareness of, the fact that he's probably literally going to leave little bruises all along your waist.

It does feel a bit better as he moves and your body adjusts, insides expanding to allow more room… but no matter how much you do, it's not fully enough. You can still acutely feel him inside, the way it bulges and pushes against your walls, the friction as it drags back and forth, the way even at the peak of your own arousal, the tip keeps slamming into that so painfully sensitive spot. Even your toys never touched that part, you weren't even aware until now that you possessed the capacity to feel it so acutely.

At least when you tell him, he apologizes, says it won't happen again… but he seems far more pleased by the ego boost of this, apparently new to him, information. You get the sense that it will, in fact, happen again.

And it does. You blame yourself, honestly, for finding yourself in this situation again, but he's just so cute… only this time, you quickly find that being on your stomach makes it infinitely worse, and his hand on the back of your head, unintentionally shoving your face into the pillow and muffling your attempts to tell him to slow down, does not help.

God, why did you let it come to this… your thoughts are barely coherent from the sheer overwhelming sensation, your brain practically short-circuiting, unable to do anything but process the feeling.

But it stretches you out so good and presses against the good spot too, so unfortunately, you end up with admittedly one of the strongest orgasms of your life, spasming and squirting and making the lewdest of sounds. So, it clearly was good, this is reassuring for him, positive reinforcement. He's too occupied with basking in pride with this accomplishment to notice your groaning at first — but don't worry, once he does notice, he'll dote on you, of course. He cares about you very deeply, you know.

And later, you're still feeling the involuntarily spasms as your poor abused hole tries to adjust to the slight gape left behind, and here he is passed out beside you so blissfully. The bastard gets to just pretend like he didn't try to impale you from the inside.

He really does try. He cares about you, you know. He doesn't want it to hurt. It's just, you know, he doesn't really do a lot of thinking in that moment, and unfortunately, his brain just commands him to breed and he can't think about anything else, so, it's his brain's fault, not his fault. Yes of course those are two different things. Besides, you're the one that enticed him, so, realistically, you must take responsibility as well.

But no matter how many times you say it, he seems to simply get lost in the ego boost and then he... forgets. And admittedly, you too seem to consistently keep coming back, against your better judgement.

He forgets when he has both hands locked into your hair, wrapped around your head, so lost in the wet, warm feeling that he's jerking your head like it's some kind of toy — your jaw hurts, every thrust feels like it's going to tear your throat apart, and it goes so far down that you're fighting your gag reflex every single second. And worst of all, you can't tell him to stop, can't get a word out when his cock is relentlessly pounding your skull.

He just forgot. He forgets when he flips you onto your front side and pulls your hips up, forgets that you said that position is the absolute worst because of how deep it goes — but see, from his perspective, it feels best because he gets to fully bottom out inside, and it’s just so good, you wouldn't understand.

He forgets when he's got his arms wrapped around you, laying on your sides as you're railed like his life depends on it, far too harshly and with far too little warning, but you can't pause the lewd nosies and squeals long enough, and your only attempts to tell him to slow down and not go so deep are so slurred you can't even blame him for not understanding.

He forgets you said how sore you are, how you need one day off at least. You just look so nice, and you didn't say anything (you retort that you didn't get the time, dammit) when he started, so he wasn't thinking, and besides, he was very gentle this time, aren't you proud of him for learning how to not go so hard?

He really does try. When you're walking all funny and clutching your lower stomach and grimacing in pain, he's got this heating pad and bottle of painkillers he bought just for you, and he's quick to pull it out. He really cares about you! Besides, the faster you recover, the sooner you'll stop being mad and glaring at him (it hurts his feelings, this is important), and the sooner you'll get to have sex again (he depends on it now, this is in large part due to your actions, so you have some responsibility to take).

He's even learned how to roll his hips so smoothly, thanks to you, and now it shouldn't hurt so much… now it's less of an earth-shattering jolt of pain, and more of a gentle pain, you know, like poking a bruise. But hey, that's improvement.

[yasur-sketches]

3 seconds until Lloyd loses his marbles

[lizardcake-was-taken]

them...............................

[pencilofawesomeness]

from chapter 10 of Famous Last Words in May Death Never Stop You by the amazing @slexenskee

I've wanted to draw this scene ever since I read it lmao. Fun fact I was eating lunch at the time and I was laughing so hard I had to leave the room since someone was watching tv. Good times, good times.

[carouselunique]

They had a bit of a chance encounter on a day where Blueblood was dealing with something that was very difficult and was so caught up in his emotions he didn’t even care that he was in the garden getting grass stans on his coat and Ditzy, with her natural impulse to cheer ponies up, didn’t even notice or care that she was flying into the palace gardens when she saw someone sat in the rain.

At first he was definitely going to call the castle guards to come apprehend this strange filly with the odd eyes who was intruding when this was the last moment he’d want to entertain any desperate debutantes, however she surprised him by not fawning or anything, not even caring about his status, just putting one of her fluffy wings up and asking if he needed somepony to lend an ear.

“Don’t let my eyes fool you, my ears work just fine!”

She was incredibly disarming and while he didn’t reveal everything about why he was upset, he found himself talking about his feelings to her. And she made such cheerful remarks, and was very comforting. In the end, he felt better and she came to check on him the next day, even sharing a blueberry muffin with him. He remarked that he’d never seen her around before, and that he wouldn’t mind terribly seeing her more often.

The rest, as they say, is history.

[candiedfright]

whether you're falling for dazai's façade or simply dismissing his feelings and actions as fake because you don't like him or whatever i just want you to know that when you say he doesn't care about people you do not know what you're talking about. no discussion about it. you just don't. how do you have the gall to even suggest that when that man is where he is now because he followed his friend's dying words. when he still holds on to the betrayal from the one that completed their trio to the point where there's very obvious bitterness in his treatment of him. when he treats chuuya so gently as he nullifies corruption. that man thinks of himself as less than human when he's one of the most human characters solely due to his complex emotions and because of the way he navigates his relationships. please do not try to tell me that he doesn't care when his reason of being is his interactions with others; which is true for anyone, but especially for him.

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF movie Abby has better luck than Elizabeth..

(Original post by @dont_nes_wit_me)

[kairukitsuneo]

11. Island time it was supposed to be a vacation date... Definitely not an enjoyable time for Sentinel 🤭

[babykittenteach]

🌔

[nelkcats]

Bad places to take a nap

Danny could admit that Hello Kitty pajama pants and a star print shirt wasn't the best choice when it came to meeting another hero, but he was tired and didn't intend to meet another hero at two in the morning either.

After catching Skullker who had decided to leave town in the middle of the night, Danny heard someone calling him, and due to his panic he transformed into his human form. Better to catch a random than an illegal ghost, right?

The halfa could admit that he was a little sleepy when he thought about it. It was obvious that Red Hood didn't know what to make of the boy in pajamas in the middle of Crime Alley, he had expected to see the creature from the pits not someone basically helpless and half asleep holding a thermos of soup.

With a sigh Jason decided it was unwise to leave him there and carried the boy to his safe house, better that option than the random getting mugged. Danny did the wise thing in that strange situation: he fell asleep again in the vigilante's grip, if he had wanted to kill him he would have done it by now wouldn't he?