#I don't like how it turned out but I can still vibe with it

[tough-chick-in-distress]

Well, being still alive beats a long dead brother in terms of fame any day.

But how lonely must be really the life of Elrond? He lost his parents in childhood. He grown up with his twin, and then the twin chose to be mortal and he is already dead for what... 2000 years to the point of the Last Alliance? He would never seen neither his parents nor his brother in the afterlife.

Then he marries (I don't particulary like the whole Galadriel/Elrond friendship whatever it is going on Amazon, too much Jacob vibes for me) and his wife have also twins! And a daughter! And he can study and heal... And his wife is kidnapped and hurt beyond healing in Middle Earth, so she sailed to Valinor. But he still has his kids, right? And he will see her again some day.

Then, the War of the Ring. He can not spare his sons in battle: it is neither right nor they would have accept. At least, should they perish, he would see them again in Mandos' Halls. And what about his daughter? Can he convice her to go to Valinor with her mom? And then all of them will live happily ever after? Well, it turns out not only Elladan and Elrohir are set in their destiny, so it is his daughter, but he never would see her again in Mandos' Halls.

But he has friends, right? (I mean, LoTR era) he lost his High King, but Galadriel and her kind live in Lothlorien and Tharanduil's court is friendly. Cirdan is in Mithlond, busy but close. Wise people come and go (see Gandalf and some dwarves) Glorfindel is the closest thing to "and old friend" that he has.

Elrond be like: I am 4/8 human, 3/8 elf, and 1/8 angel. My mother is a bird and my father is the planet Venus. My twin brother was the first king of Atlantis but somehow I seem to be more famous than him. I am one of three ringbearers, the other two being the female version of Feanor and a guy who loves fireworks. My foster father is a crazy homeless guy who likes music and his whole family is dead. My many-greats grandnephew is in love with my daughter. No one can tell my sons apart. I like waterfalls and am both a glorified innkeeper and a top-notch doctor. I am the voice of reason no one listens to.

[on-wine-dark-seas]

So what finally convinced you to selfship?

Whew, this might actually net me some disdain, resentment, etc, but...I'm gonna power through this because I have a lot of opinions, and I wanna make it clear why I'm taking on this challenge.

So full disclosure: I don't actually really like Reader fics. It's not that they're not well-written. On the contrary, a majority of them are brilliant, and most of my favorite fics in this fandom are Reader[ish] fic. Now, the reason I don't like this is not because of the second-person perspective. I'm a longtime gamemaster, writing and speaking in second-person doesn't bug me. I've read The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin. Second-person can be a rad storytelling element.

What bugs me is the obvious farce of Reader fic.

I know a lot of writers and artists try their best to keep descriptions of the Reader out of their narration, but it almost always manifests and becomes glaringly obvious that the Reader is their OC stripped of name and defining physical characteristics. Even in the art, it's very clear that Y/N is an OC or a generic, skinny, white, feminine body.

Now, here's the issue: I'm a dark skinned Black woman with curly/kinky hair, and I'm not skinny or perceived as delicate [despite my best efforts]. When I see descriptions about my fave supposedly combing their hands through my hair, or my lips being plush and pink, or my CHEEKS TURNING PINK WHEN I BLUSH, I immediately separate myself from the Reader and replace it with what is obviously the writer's OC or self-insert. And there's absolutely no shame in them doing that! I am the CEO of the OC x Canon agenda, and I will always push for people to be fearless in creating OCs.

And so much of the Reader fic is making it painfully obvious that that's what everyone wants to do, and because no one wants to risk losing readers/views/kudos/comments at best, or being labeled the dreaded Mary Sue at worst, we get inundated with a lot of fanfic and fanart that clearly have heavy OC overtones.

I never see myself as the Reader because the writers are never visualizing me when they're writing the Reader. It's not even about the choices Reader makes in a fic, it's the obvious coding of the Reader's appearance, if that makes sense? I'm sure other Black women in fandom can relate.

So, because of this, I can't feel truly immersed in the story as if I'm the protagonist because the Reader is not me.

Does this look like a fragile, delicate, wide-eyed ingenue waiting to be seduced by the big, bad wolf? No. I am a woman of many vibes: I fuck. I fight. I curse. I spit blood and I dance until the sun comes up. I can also be very soft and sweet and affectionate [just ask the polycule], but most importantly: I'm Black as fuck; not just in appearance, but culturally. I come from Nigerian and American parents. I have a very rich cultural background that shapes and influences everything about me. And none of that is ever reflected in the Reader fics I read, and even some of the ones supposedly featuring a Black reader are holding back in significant ways. Yes, even the ones I praise and laud endlessly. Again, it's not about the quality of the writing, it's about the principle at its core.

And how could I ever expect a writer to account for a person like me in their stories? Why would I ever expect them to? Reader fics ring false for me because there's too many unique people out there to settle for generic nondescript details about the literal protagonist. And I have the misfortune of being in a fandom where that is mostly all there is to read. As a result, I have to do some extra mental gymnastics to enjoy reading fic. I would rather be reading about other people's OCs, if we're being honest.

I got tired of reading fic where I still felt like an interloper or outsider in a story that is supposedly about ME. And I decided to take the plunge and write a story that actually features me as the protagonist and love interest. Not the Reader. The Writer. I'm definitely not the first, and I hope I'm not the last. I feel like this is the natural progression for someone who exclusively writes OC x Canon.

On the other side of this, I understand why Reader fic has become so popular in the fandom. It's an easy way for people to get eyes on their work because now the readers feel like they can be invested in the story because the protagonist is them. And for some people, that's enough. But for those of us who are already ostracized, ignored, and even abused in fandom, and treated as Other, this is not always the case. It's not as easy as slipping into a new coat cut exactly to my size, and more like I'm in the writer's closet trying on their clothes and realizing that we're nowhere near the same size for me to be in there at all.

I hope the people who actually rock with me and my writing enjoy The Invitation when I finally release it. It's turning out to be a point of pride for me, and most importantly: the story is about me.

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Chapter 30

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

Mr. Charles was being a dick this morning and decided to start screaming (meowing) at 5:30 am. Normally this is fine, I wake up at 5:30 but it's the weekend. I can't believe my son betrayed me so badly. So unfilial.

To cope I have a lady grey tea with some milk.

Let's get into chapter 30!

I would be so mad too if I found out my father (who has the authority and ability to take action) knew about Yong'an and just didn't react. p36

Okay but I don't agree with the sate preceptor at all. Him being all "you're too close to the issue to be reacting". Like I think it is important to stay at least a little human and in touch with people to know what they need. I'm curious to see how this turns out, but damn. I am sure there are pieces missing. No one else is doing anything, at least that we know, for Yong'an. p37

"As long as I act, there will be results, every little bit counts. Even if I can only save one person, that's still better than indifference and inaction" p38 I love this so much. Fuck I think this book is going to wreck me not even for the content, but because it feels like it's drawing a lot of parallels to the state of the world at the moment.

Damn. The fact that this issue became one with an impossible solution is rough. Like 0 ways to help these people. oof. At least not able to support them without the risk of more. This is the Trolley Problem. p42

Another downer omg.

I am glad these chapters have been hard but also short because it's been giving me time and space to take them in. oof my guys. Yall weren't lying. I truly am not surprised that Xie Lian is struggling with his mental health because the weight of carrying these disasters would be enough to ruin anyone.

[blackcatxmagic]

Corey's smile was so damn cute, and it just made Leo smile in turn. How had he gone into the grocery store so many times before and not noticed Corey? The only explanation that made sense was that he'd somehow missed him every time because Leo knew he'd remember that hair if nothing else. But something drew him in to the other man, the sweetness, that innocence, and Leo was so glad they were doing this. Grinning at Corey, he replied, "Well I'm glad you appreciate my terrible attempts at humor. It's true though - you are sweet, like this Mai Tai." Then a mischievous smile appeared on his face, and Leo added, "I bet you taste just as good." It was a little dirty, sure, but...not all the thoughts Leo had been having about the other man had been pure and wholesome.

In the booth, Leo kept finding ways to touch Corey, his shoulder, his arm, fingers brushing through his hair and grazing his neck, featherlight and just enough pressure to get a reaction out of the other man. His free hand moved to Corey's thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze, before rubbing it a little bit. Leo noticed Corey's bashfulness, and he was watching for signs that it was because he was uncomfortable with Leo's touch, but as he spoke, it seemed pretty clear that there was more to it. "I get that," Leo replied. "Sometimes I feel like I don't think things through enough, so both extremes can be hindering, you know? Still, it blows my mind that you're not beating them off with a stick." And then because apparently he wasn't as mature as he thought, Leo chuckled softly at the "beating them off" comment, though he didn't bring it up. "So many guys would be into your vibe," Leo told Corey. "I know it's something you're purposely doing, that this is just who you are, which honestly makes it better. Not everyone likes a bad boy; some people like the sweet ones." For his part, Leo liked all different kinds of guys, but Corey was definitely one of the types that appealed to him; he wondered what kinds of noises he could draw from that innocent mouth. Leo was tempted to call this a date now, but he didn't go that far because he didn't want to lead Corey on. So far, he really liked the man, but that wasn't what Leo was looking for. Still, he was having a nice time and hoped this would be the beginning of a friendship between the two men. And yes, Leo hoped that friendship included naked time, though that wasn't a requirement.

Laughing at Corey's remark, Leo replied, "I don't know if I'd say loads, but I do alright. I go on a lot of first dates...not so many second ones. Though I guess I define 'date' pretty loosely. Like is it a date if I pick up someone at a bar and take them back to my place?" If so, then that was a very regular occurrence for Leo. This kind of thing though didn't happen very much. "I flirt a lot though, so I guess practice makes perfect." Leo finished off his drink, then gestured to the bartender for another before returning his attention to Corey. "You know, I bet everyone in this bar is jealous of our gorgeous hair," he said, only sort of joking. "It's almost unfair to them to have this much beauty in one place, where they can look but not touch. Only one person gets to touch you tonight." As if to punctuate this statement, Leo slid his hand further up Corey's thigh, giving it another squeeze. "You know, maybe later tonight you could come to my place. I have a hot tub, so..." Leo trailed off, just giving Corey a suggestive look as the bartender brought his next drink. After taking another sip, Leo said more seriously, "Really though, you've got a lot to offer. I hope you can see that, Corey."

Corey felt a little warm under Leo's praise, his heart fluttering with both the compliment and the warmth in Leo's gaze and touch. He found himself smiling, a little shyly, feeling that familiar mix of excitement and slight nervousness. Leo’s words made him feel seen, and it was... well, it was nice. It had admittedly been a while since Corey had let himself be so open to such energy from another person, even despite it being something that he so often craved.

"Thanks, Leo," Corey responded softly, looking up at him with a small but genuine smile. He chuckled lightly at the joke that Leo made to compare him to the drink, shaking his head as he tried to hide just how endearing he thought those words were. "That's actually really funny," he chuckled, almost giggled. "It's not lame at all, I really appreciate it." The Mai Tai was refreshing, and he could already tell Leo had been right – he did like it. Was Corey that easy to read? Or did Leo have some supernatural sense for guessing drink orders?

Corey leaned into the warmth of Leo’s side, his own arm brushing against Leo’s lightly, appreciating the closeness. He looked up at the other man again, his smile growing wider as he spoke - just as his nerves did, but the compliments weren't unwelcome. "Thank you," he thanked him again, feeling himself grow more and more bashful, but trying to overcome it, trying to remain cool, calm, and collected. "I actually don't go on that many dates," he admitted. "I can be a bit of an overthinker," he put it extremely lightly, "and so sometimes that gets in the way. It's not that I don't want to go on dates, and it's not like I'm only kind to people because I'm trying to date them but... I don't know, it hasn't happened for a little while," he shrugged, only catching himself at the end there, realising how open and vulnerable he was being. "Sorry," he apologised, taking another sip of his drink. "I bet you go on loads of dates though, you've got the whole flirting thing down perfectly." Not to mention, Leo was extremely attractive too.

[aryn0png]

Looking at the stars, wishing they were here

Gore warning after cut!!

(I wasn't sure how to go about the gore warning I hope it's fine--)

I was just thinking how sad it is that most creatures in rain world won't ever see the stars and then this came to mind

Also have the grayscale version because for some reason I like it more??

[kakusu-shipping]

Tried making a Guzma Selfship Moodboard at @scarvesandsunflowers suggestion. It ended less our relationship dynamic and more... Guzma stewing on his crush on me.

[doux-amer]

One thing that has deeply annoyed me about the response from Americans/Westerners about this week's events in Korea is that a lot of them, including people I like and respect, are like, "The protesting civilians and lawmakers who barged into the National Assembly would've been shot if this were the U.S./this would've never happened in the U.S. because people are too afraid of being shot." There's some truth to that, at least with regard to state violence, but I'm fed up because it doesn't account for how frightening this could have turned out to be had it not been for how much of an inept flop dunce Yoon Sukyeol is. It minimizes the courage of those who showed up.

Sure, it was likely that the military and riot police wouldn't have done much (again, YSY's self-coup wasn't thought out well, and there's more evidence of that as military officials and soldiers are speaking up about the lack of information they received, but I'll refrain from talking about that to avoid making this even longer than it inevitably will be, knowing myself), but let's not pretend there haven't been issues with them in recent years. They pepper sprayed and used water cannons during an anniversary rally for the Sewol ferry victims (x) (x) (if you don't understand how unbelievably cruel that is, look into the horrific Sewol ferry sinking). They tear gassed crowds (Korea has a gruesome history of this) and sprayed water cannons, and citizens have been injured and killed during the 2015 protests and 2016-17 Park Geunhye impeachment protests, notably Baek Namgi, an elderly activist whose death caused global outrage (x) (x). Park Geunhye was going to enforce martial law during those protests according to a leaked document, with hundreds of tanks, thousands of soldiers and special force troops! (x)

Not to mention, there are decades of extreme state violence that have scarred an entire country and are still super fresh for a huge percentage of the population. Again, check out that tear gas history piece. Look up the April Revolution, Gwangju massacre, and June uprising and see just how bloody they were. Thousands of civilians were tortured and killed. Look at how many protests were going on year after year during the 1980s. That isn't that long ago! All those older people who ran to the National Assembly to stop the coup? You bet a lot of them were college students who protested during that time or knew people who did. All the younger people? They may not have experienced what it was like living under martial law, but as I said, state violence still occurs, however much it's dwindled over the years, and you have to account for generational trauma. I don't think I'll ever forget the way I felt when I saw the breaking news alert about the martial law declaration on December 3. I've never experienced that, at least to that degree.

Instead of viewing the response from civilians and elected officials through the framework of police brutality in the U.S., it should be contextualized using Korea's own history. Thankfully most of the serious discussions are doing this, but like I said, even people who are smart about reading up on things have reflected on how this wouldn't fly in the U.S., not because of the difference in protest history, civil movements, and public engagement with both in the two countries but because of the military/police response. There's an insinuation there that Koreans would be more reluctant to do what they did if they knew what it's like to live in fear of violence instead of living in such a safe country like Korea...and I want to yell.

It was monumentally brave of everyone to do what they did to stop the coup. We're all laughing at how stupid the coup was and there's a reason why people were more furious than scared because of the political history of Korea and the laws set in place to protect the democracy and neutralize coup attempts, but this could have easily become a disaster. It's not alarmist of me to say so because there was no way for anyone to be 100% sure of how the military would react—especially when no one knew what the hell was going on.

[emphasisabled]

I feel like I get duped a lot because, obvsly I'm hella vulnerable to manipulation, but I also buy into the 'people can change' line whole-heartedly. I do this because I feel like I've changed for the better. I've had a lot I've needed to unlearn over the years and I hope I'm a kinder person for it, and I hope that I continue to do that. I feel like I need to remember that my experiences aren't universal, in this. Certainly I'm not special, but mine isn't The Only Response either.

NTM I know just how paranoid my mental illnesses make me and that by itself makes me want to give people the benefit of the doubt, because I doubt myself head in hands

I've put a bit of mental energy into trying to distinguish between The Symptoms and a genuine gut feeling, and I think I'm gonna try to continue doing that. I've been told again and again, by experience and even other people, that there's absolutely something trustworthy in there. I just gotta distinguish it.

[nbstevonnie]

only you - good film

[omegapheromone]

Recently I've been super into Wuthering Waves (game by Kurogames), and I was thinking of making a post with my headcanons for each of the characters and which dynamics I tend to headcanon them as. Idk if anyone else here is interested but considering I've been rotting my brain with the game recently I think I'll do it anyway, if only for my own amusement ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also if you like Genshin but wish the battle mechanics in it were more interesting, try WuWa. It's absolutely fantastic and I LOVE the open world movement system so much actually. It's so much fun I genuinely can't even begin to explain.

[bad-at-metaphors]

I wonder if my customers EVER look at me while I'm checking them in and feel any level of remorse for breaking the "no pets in the loan car" rule

[iam-anordinary-human-orami]

I really want a scene like this in tsc2 where Neil seems to call Jean more often to check up on him and the floozies are perplexed "Why is Josten calling you?" "You guys close or sth?" "You still haven't told us what happened when he whisked you away" "we are worried sick Jean, how can you keep us in the dark?" And then Cat will say sth like "are you not sharing what you're talking to Josten about cause you're embarrassed?" Jeremy being a worried mother hen "is he bothering you?" And Jean keeps shutting everything down telling them not to worry, and then Laila as a joke says "is he flirting with you?"

And Jean responds with "I hope not. I don't think his boyfriend would take it well"

Everyone immediately stops what they are doing. "Im sorry, his WHAT?"

All hell breaks lose. Cat is shaking Laila "Josten is FRUITY?!", Jeremy is like "He has a boyfriend?" Laila being like "in the year that he joined the foxes and almost died in the hands of his serial killer dad, he got a boyfriend??? How???" And then Cat and Laila start asking questions, Jeremy trying to calm them down but also being curious, Jean is like "Well he's not told me explicitly, but it's obvious."

Jeremy having an epiphany "oh my god. Is it Kevin?" Cat in the background "oh please let it be Kevin" Jean says no, "Kevin is too much of a coward", the floozies are looking at each other like "oh we are definitely unpacking THAT at some point". And then they're like okay, well maybe the boyfriend is not on the team. But Jean confirms, it's a fox, i can tell u who it is-' "NO! We need to figure this one out!" "Let our gaydar do the work Jean we got things to prove!" Jean tiredly: "to who?"

So they start guessing, oh Hemmick is undeniably fruity, Jean is like "I don't even know who that is. Oh, backliner? No, not him". "Maybe it's Boyd?!" Cat being like "Escandalo! Cause he's with the captain right? Wilds?" Laila commenting "He'd be out of his mind to pass on that, and this is the educated opinion of a lesbian", Jean is like "how come u guys know all their names?" Jeremy says "they are a small team and it's hard not to keep tabs on them when they are in the news cycle every week or so"

"Guys we're losing track, keep your heads locked in! Who could be Josten's boyfriend, that tonight's pressing question!" "But there's no one else... wait, is he with the other backliner? Short blonde?" "I'm gonna be honest, I don't get queer vibes from him" "Lol can u imagine it's actually the goalkeeper twin" "what the one that went to juvie and looks like hes one step away from biting our heads off on the court? Nahh". Jean looks at an invisible camera like he's in the office.

And then something happens and they forget about it, until like the winter banquet or some shit and Cat is intently looking at Neil trying to decipher who his boyfriend could be, maybe he is in a throuple with Wilds and Boyd? Jean is like "Why are you looking at the foxes' table so intently?" "It's investigative work, don't worry about it" and then Neil comes over and takes Jean away at the open bar to talk about sth, the floozies are pretending to not be looking at them. Neil notices and he's like "I see they taken claim already." Jean responds with "It's not what u think" and they talk, Andrew probably gets bored at some point and goes to Neil, puts a single hand on his lower back and Jean being able to hear commotion in the Trojans table turns to see them acting like "normal", except their poses look rehearsed, there's drinks that have been spilled on the table and Cat is drinking from an empty glass looking at the sky.

[dirtyyoungthingg]

its been a long day. between school and extracurriculars, i am exhausted and stressed. i need a release. bad.

what better way to relieve my stress than fucking myself silly?

i walk into my bedroom, already smiling thanks to the plan my sweet little brain came up with. my smile drops when i realize you're sitting on my bed.

next to my toys.

"d-dad...--"

"what the fuck are these, hm?" you gesture to the two toys on the bed. i immediately shrink into myself, embarrassed.

"...dunno...."

"dont play dumb with me." you stand and grab a fistful of my hair, bringing my gaze up to meet yours. you glance back over at the toys. "do you even know how to use those?" nervously, i nod.

"i-i'm a big girl."

you can't help but smile a little. "yeah?" you throw me down onto the bed. "show dad. let me see you be a big girl, and maybe i'll let you keep these." i scramble onto my back, my heart pounding in my ears as i try to wrap my brain around whats happening.

my dad wants to watch me fuck myself.... my thighs squeeze together as you settle onto the foot of the bed. you tut at me and place your hands on my knees.

"don't be shy now. its nothing i havent seen before." your mind flashes back to our special bathtimes. how you loved catching glimpses of my sweet little pussy underneath the bubbles. how you'd use your special soap on me, as long as i didnt tell anyone.

"but dad--"

you spread my legs open suddenly, my skirt raising to show off my printed pink panties. "shut the fuck up. take those off." my face is flushed as i comply, sliding out of my panties. you grab them from me and bring them to your nose. "god... you always smell so good." i shiver at the cold air hitting my wet cunt. you set the panties down and reach to rub your thumb lightly against my sweet little pussy lips. your other hand moves to grab the first toy, a small bullet vibrator. you smile at it for a moment. "where'd you get this guy, huh?"

"th-the mall... one of the stores sells stuff like that in the back..." you turn it on, and a small but consistent buzzing sound fills the air. you raise your eyebrows as you click it back off.

"not bad." you press it into my hands. "go on. show me how you use it."

i feel dizzy, nervous. this is wrong, you shouldnt be making me do this. and yet, i'm so wet, and i was planning on playing with myself anyway... maybe its not so bad that dad's here.... i bite my lower lip as i turn the small vibe back on and begin to run it over my little pussy lips. a breath catches in my throat when i brush over my swollen clit. you take another deep breath from my panties as you watch, palming yourself through your pants. i press the vibe to my clit as i watch. "g-god... dad...."

"thaaaaat's right baby. just like that." you unbuckle your belt and pull your cock out, wrapping the soft pink fabric of my panties around the length of it as you begin to pump your cock with your fist. the sight is making me lightheaded with lust. i squirm as the vibrator presses harder onto my clit, letting out a moan. "good girl..."

you glance over at the other toy, a sizable dildo. you grab it with your other hand and look down at my glistening cunt. so small and sweet... "...can you even fit this in that sweet little hole, baby?"

i sheepishly look away, shaking my head no. "so-sometimes if i try i can get it halfway in, but it really hurts..." you can't help but laugh a little.

"you just need daddy's help, baby." you grab the vibrator and click it off. i can't help but whimper a little and squirm at the lack of touch. you smile. "turn over, raise that cute little ass up for me." i comply, rolling over onto my stomach and putting my ass up in the air. my skirt from school is still on, and you have to slide it up so you can get to my bare ass. yet another reminder that i'm your daughter, your baby... you shouldn't be doing this... and yet you continue.

you use the head of the dildo and lazily drag it over my opening, humming softly as you see the wetness that collects on the toy. "you're so wet... i'm sure we could fit this in if we tried. you're a big girl, right? thats why you have these toys?" i nod, too flustered to really speak.

"i-i'm a big girl..."

"that's right baby. you're a big girl. and that's why you're gonna take all of this, deep inside your sweet little kiddo cunt." you press the toy into me, slowly, working it in and out of my pussy bit by bit. my eyes screw shut as i whine. i'm still just so tight, so small... you bite your lower lip in concentration as you press the dildo even further inside me suddenly. i gasp and try to squirm away. it's too much, too deep...! i am met with a swift slap on my ass that makes me yelp and causes tears to spring from my eyes.

"ah-ah. that's enough of that, young lady." your tone is gruff, and makes me shudder inwardly. you manhandle me back into the proper position. "you wanted to be a big girl. owning these toys, fucking yourself with them. acting like such a whore. you're lucky this is how i'm choosing to correct this behavior." you smack the other cheek to punctuate your point. "i could've just thrown you down, raped you right here." you begin to thrust the dildo in and out of my cunt quickly, ignoring my pleas for you to stop. "coulda just taken everything ive ever wanted. your mouth, your pussy, your ass..."

i'm sobbing at this point as you relentlessly fuck me with the toy. "coulda treated you like the whore you are. traipsing around with those little skirts, those tiny tops that leave nothing to your father's imagination, much less anyone elses." you've driven the toy all the way into me at this point. i'm crying, my brain overloaded from pain and pleasure.

"t-too m-much--! p-please, stop!"

"shut the fuck up." you use your free hand to press my face into the pillows. "god, do you ever stop talking?" the toys pace is too much. you notice how much i'm clenching around it. "and look at that. you're close. you can't be having that bad of a time if you're that close to cumming while your dad plays with you how he sees fit." my cries are muffled by the pillows as i beg you over and over to stop, please god stop, it's too much.

"no, baby. i'm not gonna stop. not until you cum all over your special big girl toy for daddy. c'mon, i know you want to. you know you want to. cum for me. cum for dad."

and just like that, the dizzying feeling reaches its peak. i cum with the toy deep inside me, my sweet cries ringing out as i throw my head back. you slow your movements down until you stop.

"that's my girl." you slide the dildo out of my cunt. "i knew you could do it. and look at that! you took the whole thing! such a big girl for daddy, such a good girl."

i'm too much of a dazed mess to fight you off as you slide your pants down and position yourself over me. you line your cock up with my twitching cunt, humming softly.

"now i get to show you that you don't need those silly toys. all a girl needs is her father."

[graphic--horde]

How do you make your stamps? :0

Disclaimer: this is an obscenely long explanation, with pictures. Efficiency is stupid

So, for the static ones, I make a 99x56 px file on ibis paint x. Other programs are probably available online but I don't use them.

After that, I either upload an image I want to make into a stamp, or I draw one.

Then, I find a frame I want to use. Ill upload them here but let it be known I stole all of these right from deviantart

Most of them are from Lil-Devil-Melii on deviantart. The rest i have no idea. They're not all 99x56px but you can crop the canvas it's fine

Make sure to erase the edges of the picture , so they're transparent. It's not as cute otherwise

Upload those frames over your image in whatever art program you're using and viola, stamp.

For moving ones, it's a lot harder. Mostly because I refuse to download Photoshop.

There are a couple ways to do this. Some are simple animations, like with flashing text and whatnot. For these, you download the individual animation frames from your art program. Make sure it's transparent.

Then, upload each frame to ezgif.com under the option "GIF maker." You can play around with how fast each frame goes and whatnot but in the end, it'll be a stamp with some rad text that moves. This is easy, and doesn't make me want to shit my pants and cry. If you're new, do this. This is fun. This is good. This does not kill me inside

I made that↓ stamp with this method :)

this next one is how we turn gifs into stamps. This one makes me sad. It involves math and sucks. But we gotta do it. For the vibe

First, grab your gif. I'm using this cow gif because it's awesome

Then, I resize it using ezgif. Literally everything for this will be using ezgif. I am a simple man

At this point you should decide what frame to use. I'm using this one because its the first one I clicked

Figured out what size the inside of the frame is. That's what I resize the gif to, so the edges can be transparent. The inside of this one is 93x50 px, so those are the dimensions I'm making the gif.

Figure it out by putting the frame into ibis paint and realizing the canvas to fit just the inside of the frame, then seeing what the dimensions are. But there could be easier ways

Woah it's so small now

Then, still on ezgif, I go to the "crop" option.

Make sureeee to upload the smaller gif

press the button that says "extend canvas size", and then put the "width" and "height" as the dimensions for your FRAME. This'll put a bit of a transparent border around the gif. For this frame, I did 99px and 56px.

The "left" and "top" boxes show how many pixels the cropping happens from the edges of the canvas. The formula for finding that is

(width of gif / 2) - (difference between gif width and frame width / 2) = left box

For me it's (93 / 2) - (6 / 2) = 43.5

Then you do the same.for the height, which for me ends up being 22 from the top

This is reallyyy touchy and annoying though

Here's my result , with no visible difference

Okay so THEN you go to the "overlay" option, under "effects." And upload your frame. If the cropping was done right, you shouldn't have to move the frame at all and can just download it

Here's my result:

if you don't care about transparency, you can resize your gif to be the same size as the frame, and then put the frame over it. But I'm a slut for transparency

Anyways. I'm sorry if anything was unclear, it's two am. And I hope this was helpful :) these really are fun to make once you get it down

also if anyone has an easier way to make stamps from gifs, please god tell me

[ozzgin]

I just finished playing Firewatch and the cozy, lonely vibes gave me another monster idea! You got a summer job as a fire watch for the closest National Park. All you have to do is to sit in your tower, and...watch. For fires. Sounds boring? Worry not, your supervisor is there to keep you company over the radio. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior, suggestive ending

"And? What are you running away from?"

"Excuse me?"

You raise your eyebrows at the unexpected question coming from the radio. The deep voice belongs to your supervisor, the man who'll guide you throughout your stay at the National Park.

"No one picks up an isolated job in the mountains out of sheer desire. Especially someone as young as you." He chuckles briefly, then resumes in a more professional tone: "My apologies. You don't have to answer that."

What a strange way to begin the conversation, you think to yourself. Yet this nonchalance and casualty is all you have for the following months. The other watchtowers don't talk much, if at all. You're entirely alone in the wilderness, save for the mysterious man on the radio.

Slowly, you begin to warm up to his chatty nature. He likes to ask a lot of questions. A terribly curious individual, though you can understand his reasoning: he's been working for the Park for over a decade. How does one survive without another human being?

He never leaves his tower, and thus you've never seen his face. He's content, you're indifferent. Occasionally, he'll mention sketching you to pass the time.

"How would you describe your eyes, (Y/N)?" he'll ask between his pencil scribbles. "I see. I'm sure they're beautiful. Why are you suddenly quiet? Have you forgotten how to take a compliment? I'm just messing with you, kiddo."

You haven't witnessed a single fire since coming here, despite the torrid summer heat. Your days are spent hiking without aim and talking to your supervisor.

One morning, you wake up to the grating beep of the radio instead of your alarm. You pick up the small device with an irritated grunt.

"Would you like to meet?"

You need a moment to process the words. Are you finally going to greet the one man who's kept you distant company for weeks? Intriguing. You mumble your agreement, still half-asleep.

As you make your way down the hill, you notice a supply station covered in moss and overgrown vegetation. You check your map, just to be sure. There shouldn't be anything here. What a peculiar thing to stumble upon. You approach the old wooden box and lift the lid carefully.

The musty inside is filled with rows of newspapers and some scattered notes. You pluck one newspaper out, and rest your eyes on the first headline.

"National Park is saying goodbye to its employees. The area will be permanently closed after the devastating fire."

You gawk at the title, then at the photographed location.

It's your watchtower.

You scramble to read the rest of the paragraphs, words slipping behind in your frantic search. This forest has been sealed off for years. You recognize the name of your supervisor in the report: a father of three, loved by everyone, died tragically before a rescue team could reach him.

"Found anything interesting, kiddo?"

You turn around with mild hesitation. Whoever this impersonating maniac is, or what he wants, is rather irrelevant at this point. You're trapped alone with him.

Across from you stands a creature, resembling a chimera more than a human being. Long, grotesque limbs ending in black claws, hollow eyes, and mangled rows of razor-sharp teeth put together in a grin. Monstrous.

You're out of breath.

"That looks great", the creature remarks cheerfully.

"Don't use my voice to talk. It's embarrassing to hear myself like that", you lecture it as you spread out the food onto the picnic blanket.

It switches back to the supervisor's soft, masculine tone.

"Sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

The monster extends one bony hand over your head, fanning out the fingers and dragging them across your hair in gentle strokes. What a precious little human you are.

You did not run away. A terrifying thought: losing you after all the time spent together. It didn't want to chase you down and make it even worse for you. But you stayed, you truly did.

"By the way", you say as you bite into your sandwich, stretching out your legs. "Is it you who prevents the fires? Usually it's a common occurrence here, especially in summer."

You recall the scorching flames from the newspaper.

"Yes. To keep you safe, you understand."

"Not only did you lie to me about the job, but you kept me out of work, too", you whine. "I got bored to death! Days on end!"

You're suddenly pushed down into the blanket, and you stare into the spiraling, empty sockets, confused.

"I can entertain you to your heart's desire, (Y/N)."

Its snout widens in a flirty smile, releasing a bizarre succession of clicks. Is it laughing in its natural voice?

You blush.

"I suppose there are some ways..." you suggest cheekily, unbuttoning your shirt.

[More Monsters] | [More Original Works]

[mad-hunts]

as far as jack could tell, jervis was really out of it; and it made him wonder it was due to something that had happened while he was out with his father, or when they'd gotten here. perhaps both. jack gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting to jervis's hands, which were flexing like he was struggling with something. an eyebrow rose as jack contemplated asking whether he needed some pain medication.

since he didn't receive an answer to his question yet, jack figured he might as well introduce himself. ❝ uhh, well, you don't have to talk to me if you aren't feeling up to it. my sister told me that you fainted in front of her out there — so, i understand if you're still feeling sick. my name is jack, ❞ he scratched at the back of his neck as he continued to observe jervis. whenever the man tried to get up, jack approached him and was about to caution jervis that maybe he shouldn't by lightly touching his shoulder.

but he remembered matilda telling him something about the other really not liking to be touched, so he merely was going to verbally tell him. up until jervis laid back down himself, anyhow. jack couldn't hold himself back from frowning at his poor present state before venturing out of the room with a 'i'll be right back.' and indeed he had been, with two different vials, alongside a few syringes to inject into that IV bag: should jervis want to be medicated. jack figured it'd be easier to just do that rather than forcing him to swallow anything.

he placed those also on the table before tilting his head at the quote jervis had said until it clicked a few seconds later, ❝ that's a quote from through the looking glass, isn't it? and one that the red queen said in the story if i remember correctly. she was basically teaching alice that staying in the same place is falling behind, right? ❞ jack squinted his eyes at that before a thought came to mind. a soft snort left him, but one that was done of an innocent sort of amusement rather than malice. ❝ that is a kind of roundabout way of talking about survival of the fittest. but hey, lewis carroll was all about the whimsy of things, i guess. and its no big deal. ❞

jack pretended not to see the tears that the other shed for jervis's own sake. the blood on his lips was something he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried, though. jack grabbed a washcloth from his pack and held it out towards's jervis's hand. once it was out of his hand was when jack set down that teacup, the slightly too long stripped pants he wore swaying across the ground. ❝ mm, you and dad were both asleep for nearly four hours. sure — i don't think that's silly at all. i keep something on me all the time from when my brother, julien, was still around. ❞ the bracelet he showed the other on his right wrist then seemed to be made up entirely of tiny conch shells.

julien was a big fan of the sea, which jack thought made his death all the more crushing. after seeing the state that the stuffed animal was in, he figured that that bunny must've been really loved; though it didn't really matter by whom it was. the end result was the same, as love changes you. jack knew this well as he'd never wanted anything more than to be embraced by the warmth of it.

he quickly shook that thought off, only to grab the two vials he got from the fridge once more. ❝ eh... the four hours actually went by rather fast. ❞ jack cleared his throat then, ❝ you know, i couldn't help but notice that you aren't looking so hot still, and so i grabbed some meds for you. but i won't force you to take them. i have a pain reliever as well as something that relieves vertigo. are either, or both of these, something you want? ❞

Eigengrau.

A faint hum buzzed in his ears; his mouth was so dry it felt like he’d swallowed a wad of wool.

The thin sheet beneath him brushed his fingertips as Jervis flexed his hands, cracking his eyes open a sliver. The room tilted, everything blurring at the edges. Ah… so he had fainted. Just as he’d suspected. No glasses, then.

"Hey. Ahh, you're awake… That's awesome. How are you feeling?"

The new voice was barely a whisper, young and uncertain—belonging to a boy, maybe sixteen or eighteen by the timber. Was this another of Barton's assistants, a friend of Matilda’s, or perhaps her brother? Jervis couldn’t quite remember; hadn't Barton mentioned something about having more than one child?

He winced, his body feeling heavy, leaden; aching everywhere. Slowly, he exhaled and tried to push himself upright—tried being the keyword. The effort brought only a wave of vertigo, dizzying and blue-hot, making his vision swim.

… ohh, god…

He swallowed thickly, curling into himself. Something wasn’t right. His glasses and gloves weren’t the only thing missing. He was in his socks, jeans, and a now damp charcoal t-shirt, his body slick with cold sweat. His graying auburn curls clung to his neck in tangled ropes. His boots were beside the cot, his messenger bag on a desk across the room. His overcoat and maroon button-down were draped over a chair.

A flicker of discomfort in his right arm. Burning. Tugging.

Jervis glanced down at the source: a plastic tube. A peripheral IV catheter.

"Ah, you know... 'It takes all the running you can do, to stay in the same place,'" he muttered, his voice clipped and hollow; Bermudian accent casual, almost detached. He turned his eyes to the boy; offered him a faint, strained smile. "Keeps things interesting, I suppose... but I appreciate your concern, lad."

He lifted his fingers to his cheek, feeling the moisture trickle down—salt on his lips. Tears, sharp and stinging. Jervis flinched and quickly scrubbed them away with the heels of his hands.

Cold metal pressed into his spine, tight around his neck—the chain with his and Sylvie’s wedding rings twisted against his skin. He must’ve been thrashing in his sleep. There was blood on his lips.

"Forgive me…" His vision swam as he watched the boy set a teacup on the small table beside the cot, just within view. "But I'm afraid I've rather lost my sense of time. How long has it been since I…?" He paused, his voice barely steady. "... if... if you don’t mind, could you please reach into my coat pocket? You'll find a small cuddly toy. A rabbit..." He rubbed his mouth, lowered his eyes. "It sounds foolish, I know... but it... it was my daughter's, you see..."

The boy nodded, moving quickly to retrieve the toy from Jervis’ coat pocket, and placed it on the table beside the teacup. The bunny was missing one of its button eyes, its white fur faded and matted. A pink satin ribbon around its neck was frayed and tattered.

“Thank you,” Jervis said hoarsely. “I must have been out of it for quite a while.”