#and like no matter how fucking hard I try I can't talk to my drs about fucking anything bc they refuse to LISTEN to me and I go into my

[materialised]

LUFFY'S HEADCANONS (SFW & NSFW )

: I write these because I can't stand my feelings whenever I see his bright smile in every episode so I gotta express my own thoughts. Honestly I wish I have a boyfriend like him in my life pfft- Like whoever gonna dislike a honest boy like him, right? Oh I love Luffy so much ><

Caution: Minors DO NOT INTERACT. English is not my first language but I hope you guys like this. Oh and it's pretty long, I didn't count at all.

◜⁑✢⁑±⁑✢⁑」

SFW - Oh sure our boy is sweet and lovely.

Luffy, who always greet you with a smile whenever he sees you around and uses his ability of Gomu Gomu to wrap his arms around you tightly.

His love language is skinship. He loves touching you, holding hand while walking together, leaning his chin over your shoulder when you are chatting with Nami and wait until you notice, turn your head then he gonna smile at you so purely.

Ever since he was a kid, he didn't like to take nap so much unless he was extremely tired and need a short nap time to refill his energy but after you two were together, Luffy usually naps with you, Nami and Ussop often saw two of you resting on each other's head while sleeping on the deck. "They look so cute", said Nami.

After Carrot "garchu" Luffy few times before and he remembered that, he's trying that on you, too. Hands around your waist and "garchu" you, nuzzling his cheek against yours playfully while smiling so hard.

Shares his foods with you, whatever he has in front of the table - meat, drinks, sweets,... He's gonna let you take bites and looking at you with a happy face. He loves foods, but he loves you more and happy to make his lovely girlfriend full with foods - that's how he shows his love towards you.

Luffy can eats anything and drinks anything, he wasn't a picky one, but, he loves your hot chocolate you made him. When the weather seems colder than usual, you will take a hint of that and go to the kitchen, making hot chocolates for the crew and Luffy always have the largest cup with lots of marshmallows on top. That's how you show your love in return.

Telling you all of his thoughts, his story, his worries, he trusted so so much because you love him so much. He lets you know the other side of his, his thoughts were his emotions and intelligence.

"I like you (y/n)", "I love you (y/n)", "You're adorable, (y/n)", "This looks so much like you, (y/n)!", and plenty more of love-words he told you. He loves calling you by your real name, "baby", "babe" are also okay but he prefers calling each other by real name better. Not the romance one knows how to talk as if he was writing a poetry but straightforward, short and always success to make your cheeks turn red.

Eyes don't lie. He is like a walking-radar, must say since he can sense your presence real quick and tells the crew that "(Y/n) is here" before you appear.

Loves resting on your thighs, feeling your fingertips brushing his hair down his features.

Luffy loves hearing your heartbeat, your warmth, the softness of your chest against his head, so soft, so tender, so warm, so rapidly same as his heartbeat when he's around you.

He will marry you, wife you up, shower you with his love and affections. He will be the best husband in the world, the best dad ever to you two kids. Your kids gonna be so same as him, big monkey dad with his little monkeys.

"Glad I have you, (y/n)", he mumbled as kissing your lips under the moon in a sleepless night.

NSFW - The more he loves you, the harder he fucks you.

「۰۪۪۫۫●۪۫۰⊰❈☸❈☾۰۪۪۫۫●۪۫۰」

He loves you, he fucks you, he loves you so damn much that those silly and normal skinship aren't enough anymore. He needs to fuck you deep and raw, makes you cum so good, cum several times on his cock. And that's the first thought made his priority SNAPPED.

You always on his mind, no matter what. How many times you appear in his head? Uncountable. Luffy thinking about you day and night, he even uses his imagine and he knows he fucked when you started appeared in his wet dream, lewdest dream he ever had after that long time hitting his own puberty. And he so honest about that, he shared with you without any embarrassment because he trusted you no matter what. And you? Not even mad at your boyfriend, instead you explored the fact that Luffy also have lust and needs.

Inexperienced, indeed, he is still a virgin, he never felt a touch of woman before since he's not interested in those stuffs. Yet, after being in relationship with you, he found himself thinking about sex nonstop.

Masturbate after fight, he has to relieve the stress out.

Luffy eats, sleeps like a baby, which is healthy one so his cum taste good, not bitter, not sour, taste like nothing but the white egg-yolk. However, not masturbate often so his cum really thick. You loves swallowing his cum and he enjoys it, too.

He is a virgin but when its come to a real fuck, he wasn't. He ain't playing like a shy boy who doesn't know what to do, he sees your body as a new island for him to explore inch by inch, every dips and curves on your body, he has to touch them all - the curve of your shoulders, your breasts, your ribcage, your waist, your hips, the swell of your asscheeks and your backside got him swallowed in excitement. You're beautiful, what that's people say? Breathtaking, yeah that's one.

How he touch you for the first time? Luffy's taking his time groping your beasts, rolling your hardened nipples between his slight calloused fingers to see your reaction before move to next place on your body. He didn't think much during it, he lets his primal desire takes the lead of his whole muscles. A soft moan escaped your lips as his warm palm brushing your breasts just bringing his desire closer, getting hard under his jeans for sure. After kissing your waist, he slowly pried your legs open, revealed yourself fully to him.

If Luffy must describe what he was saw, then there is it: your arousal a smearing both your inner thighs; really messy, soft, plumb thighs made him wants to take a bite as if there were two delicious cakes in front of him. Then your private part, puffy wet folds drenched with clear discharge, your small aching clit and your cunthole timidly hiding under the wet folds - leaking. Using his thumb to open yourself to him, a slight pink and red shade of your vagina throbbing, clenching around nothing under his gazed. He was staring so long, studied your body and your most sensitive part, carved them deep into his brain that makes you blush so damn much before takes off his shirt. "L-luffy... It's so embarrassing if you keep staring like that...", you watching him between your spread-opened thighs with deep shade of red but won't close your legs because you know he won't let you do that. "It's pretty, (y/n). This little hole of yours keeps throbbing ya know that?", Luffy rubbing his palm against your soft mound, eyes drooping and his voice harsher than previous moment.

Luffy fucks you raw, always. He likes it rough and balls deep, he hates the silence especially during sex. He wants to hear the lewd sounds of wet skin slapping against skin, the bed squeaking under you both and your moans. Moans for him, more and more, don't be shy, he loves your shaky voice calling out his name. Luffy loves the sounds of your pussy squelching while taking his cock and he probably says it out.

Dirty talk? Nah, he doesn't even have to try because he IS the dirty one. He says what he saw, your pussy so red and swollen and his cum oozed out our cunthole? He definitely said it out: "Looking at my cum leaking out your pussy, (y/n), shit, that's a lot, babe." And said that with a straight face with toying with your clit.

Oh he such a sweet soul but oh so a dirtiest, nastiest one. "Your pussy is so red, babe, let me suck your clit.", and didn't wait for your response but buried his face into your abused red pussy lips.

He fucks with any new idea came up his mind. For example, he told you to masturbate for him on his bed, then he freed his cock, fingers wrapped firmly around his length and stroking up and down along with the movement of your fingers thrusting in and out your hole until you both reached the peak, Luffy used his free hand to keep your legs opened wide and cumming on your bare pussy. Each thick rope of white, hot cum spurting on your clit, pussy lips and some on your mound and some goes inside your pussy but he won't stop. Luffy nudging the head of his cock against your cum-covered pussy to smear his cum all over your cunt, even teasing you by collected some cum on his cockhead and pushing the tip inside. After that, he asked you to put your panties back on and walking around with his cum still on your pussy like that.

Likes teasing you by grinding his dark pubic hair against your sensitive clit. That was hot to him, he could do that for hour to make you whimper and brows knitted together.

Another one, Luffy loves tapping his cockhead on your clit, or your cunthole to feel your thighs shaking, hips jolt upward and dragging his tip up and down your slit. He doesn't know why he did that himself but "It's hot, slap my cock on your pussy like this making me want to cum so hard, babe."

What his dick looks like? Well, over average size, maybe > 16cm (6,3 inches), tanned, and really thick (almost 5 inches). Slightly curved to the right, dark red tip and few veins running on underside. Not trimmed, he leaves it natural and he found another reason to leave it that way - tease your clit. In general, his cock taste good tho, same as his cum and fit in your mouth and fist perfectly.

His stamina is amazing, look at how long he had fought Kaido so we can say that he can fucks you that long enough. He can goes round to round, he fucks you fast and rough like a rabbit in heat without hesitation and he won't let you take a break to chase your breath during it.

Result: your pussy all red and sore, but oddly satisfied since you boyfriend made you cum so hard, multiple times. You still in the haze and fucked out, his cum dripped down the sheets from your pussy. Don't worry if you gonna get pregnant, Luffy surely wife you up, you gonna carry his baby and be his wife even in another life! And about Luffy? Our boy fell asleep fast, snoring already but in the morning he wakes up, he will give you your aftercare.

So that's all >< that's what I got in my head right now lol. If you enjoy this little pieces of mine, don't forget to let me know your thought about this. Love you and have a great day <33

[idesofrevolution]

The Journey of Dr. Santana Fabrega

There's nothing quite like your bro slobberin' over your sweaty feet while tokin' on a hookah. Let me just tell you- everybody's happy. I'm stoked to be stoned and minty fresh, and he's happy to taste my ripe size 12's. Who isn't the happiest? The folks. Sure, I dropped out of college, sure I started focusing one hundred percent on my art, sure I have a parade of guys out of my little basement lair... but I never got why they had to be such fuckin' buzzkills.

Ever since they joined that church when I was at uni, my parents have been sucked into the Evangelical cult. Not the whole lifting your hands up to Jesus & speaking in tongues sort of church, by the way. Man, they're out there with picket signs at sex clinics, bannin' books at the high school, all that crazy fuckin' Christian Nation bullshit. They're my parents, so I love 'em and whatever. But fuck, those psychos really fucked 'em up. So now, their crusade is "curing" me of my gayness. Didn't really matter that I'm pan, they don't really know the difference. They don't really care about the difference, though. Not straight, not right.

So when they caught me the other day with Sam cleanin' my dick in the basement, it was World War 3. Man, a Nuclear Bomb would have less energy than my mom's hysterical shrieking. It's Florida, so it's nothing the neighbors haven't heard before. But, shit. I thought my eardrums were gonna pop. They stomped off upstairs, bein' all 'we are going to talk about this later, Santiago.' So, I let Sammy finish up, I pulled on some shorts and I went upstairs to face the fire while he snuck out the basement window. Fuck, I wished I were him.

The 'family meeting' went about as well as you'd expect. Threats of burning in hell for all eternity, demands that I find the Lord, etc. Apparently he doesn't like a lot of things about me: my weed, my tattoos, my sexuality, my piercings, my hair for some reason? I don't know man, I just tuned out after a while. What I did catch, though, they were sending me to substance abuse counseling. Couldn't help but laugh, and that sent dad through the fuckin' roof.

"Doctor Fabrega is going to teach you some manners, young man. Make you a Godly man, like you should be." Yada yada yada. He should have known better than to give me the doc's name. After the ass reaming, I made my way back downstairs to the computer. It took five minutes of research to find this Doctor Fabrega. Turns out he's a Christian Therapist, but that wasn't what was most interesting. Down in his specializations, buried beneath substance abuse & cognitive behavioral therapy was a word that caught my eye: licensed Hypnotherapist.

I knew exactly what kind of bullshit they were tryin' to pull on me. But when I was enrolled at U Miami, my major was Psychology. Not only that, but I still happened to have access to the university library. Oops.

I texted Sammy, knowing I was gonna be up all night doing research, and that my dick would need some appropriate attention under the desk. I was gonna show this motherfucker just how sick it really is to be like me.

---

The waiting room was bullshit. Cold white walls, bright wood floors... It looked straight out of an IKEA ad. I'd already been there for like 20 minutes past my appointment time, giving me just enough time to scroll through the last chapter on my phone. I hear the receptionist call out my name, and I head toward the office. Just as bullshit as the waiting room. It's like the guy wants to live in a psych ward- no color anywhere. At least get a blacklight or something.

"Santiago Rivera. Welcome, I'm Dr. Fabrega." The guy was hot as fuck, not gonna lie. Looked like he was straight out of Sao Paulo- even with the fancy suit you can't hide muscle like that. "Please, sit. It's so good to meet you." His voice was so weird. Speaking every word with like, perfect diction. You know those AI voices that talk that way? That's what it was like, as if he were trying so hard to hide an accent underneath.

"Just call me Santi, doc." I plopped down on the leather chair, might have put my feet up on his coffee table (don't recall), and he just looked at me like he was looking in a microscope. No idea what the deal was. He walked over to the couch and sat down with my file and started to drone on.

"Alright, Santi, it says here that your parents are pretty concerned about your behavior lately. You're 23 years old and a college dropout, you take illicit drugs, you have no job, and you're having unnatural thoughts. That's quite the list, bud." He was so fuckin smug, that sort of punchable glibness that only comes from a particular kind of self righteousness. Like Jesus himself came down and kissed them.

"So, first off. I did drop out of college, because I couldn't afford it. Second, I sure the fuck do smoke green because it's a) fun, and b) prescribed to me by my real doctor. Third, I do have a job. I do graphic design and graffiti art and I pay my own bills with it. And last off, yup: I fucked him." He sat there, somehow shocked that I told him how it was right off the bat. I'm not playing his little game, and that made him angry.

"I see. So you have no remorse for any of this? I believe your parents are very right to be concerned about where your life is headed."

"Fascinating, considering I'm moving out at the end of the month and they won't need to deal with my life. So. You married?" He was thrown off by that, just as I'd hoped. Right out of the blue. Knocks them off kilter for a second. An easy question to answer, so they usually do.

"Uh, well, no I'm not married. Is that your concern in all this?" Man, I couldn't help but laugh. He's trying to be sarcastic?

"Where did ya go to school for... whatever this is." This made him close my file, he even put it on the table and crossed his arms.

"I went to Liberty University, top of my class in their Doctor of Psychology program. You, it seems didn't make it that far, so you might not know what 'this' is." Oooh, he's big mad. I thought, let's push it. I did what most of my guys love, but would piss him off, I kicked off the Vans. Made sure I wore my skating shoes that day, the super ripe ones with the same damp socks. When they came off, those puppies let their presence be known.

"Sounds boring. Boring then, boring now. I got accepted into the Art Institute in Savannah, so I'll be headed that way soon. Be legit soon, then you wouldn't have anything to say. How's your sex life?" He thought he was so tough, not flinching at the musk, nor my question. But I knew both hit him right where I wanted. The question to make him mad, the stink to get him hot.

"Santiago, I think we should continue with our session. You can put your shoes back on and we can try some exercises to help you think a bit more clearly." I crossed my ankles, wriggling my toes a bit.

"I think they need some air. Are you gonna try and hypnotize me now? Or is that the last ditch effort when everything else fails?" He leaned back in his seat, the grimace growing stronger. "That stuff is not that hard to master. A couple days really and you got it down."

"Is that so?" He ground his teeth as he spat out his words. "It seems you know all there is to know, then." Time to hit it home.

"You know what, let's put money on it, doc. Hundred bucks says I can put you under." I got him, his eyebrow shifted just enough for me to see.

"This isn't a casino, Santiago. I don't bet money on client's health." I couldn't help but smirk. He left an opening I couldn't pass up.

"Aight, no money then. If I put you under, I get the bragging rights. If I don't, I'll play your stupid games. Win-win for you, nothing to lose but your dignity." Hook, line and sinker; he leaned in, grabbing the remote on the table next to him. He tapped a button, and the shades started to come down.

"Well then, Mr. Rivera. I wish you luck."

The room got dark. Really fuckin' dark. Fabrega hit another button on the remote, and a cool blue washed over the room. Gotta say, tight LED system. I kicked my shoes off the table, and scooted my chair forward. Showtime.

"Alright, Santana, I want you to just take deep breaths." He squirmed at my use of his first name, one last dig before I brain fucked him. He took his deep breaths one at a time, slowly getting deeper and deeper. "As I count down from one to ten, each number will bring you closer and closer to relaxation. Picture a long tunnel, at the end, a bright white light. With every number, you take a step forward to the light, do you understand?"

He nodded, it was an induction I'd made up this morning. I started from 10, telling him his first step he could feel the tingling relaxation in the tips of his fingers, slowly crawling up his hands and forearms. 9. Another step, the tingling creeps up his big muscly arms and shoulders. 8. One more step, the tingling is pushing up his neck and throat, reaching his tongue and teeth. 7. The tingling bursts into his head, a paradoxical rush of relaxation, a fog of dissonance washes over his brain as thoughts collide and crash about. 6. The tingling washes down his spine, flowing through his nerves into every part of his body. His body feels electric, a painless jolt running throughout him. I watched as he tensed up, his big muscles contracting and bunching him up. It was working.

We get to 5, starting at the crown of his head, the volts decrease, turning lugubrious and liquified like molasses sloshing about in his head. 4. The light is so close he can feel the heat, but his body is cooled as the syrupy fluid flows down over him like a waterfall, pooling in his big feet as it fills every crevice. 3. It feels as if he's trudging through mud toward the light, his legs feeling wobbly and gelatinous. 2. So close, his whole body feels like a massless blob, inching toward the final drop into the cavernous light. 1. He crawls toward the ledge, plummeting down into the endless void of bright white light. There, he will sit as I have a little bit of fun.

"Alright, Santana. Can you hear me in there?" Fabrega nods, expressionless. Fuck, that was maybe a 80/20 chance I was gonna fuck this shit up so bad. But I guess God really is on my side here. "Whenever I ask a question, you will answer truthfully. Whatever I say you will incorporate into your life. Now, Santana, what do you do when you're not at work?" His lips moved slowly and replied in monotone.

"I go to the gym, I go to the golf course, I hire my date, and I go home." Ooooh shit. He's giving my friends on the corners a decent living, good for him. Hardly a Godly thing to do. Either way, it was a perfect place to start.

"You love going to the gym, don't you, Santana?" He nodded. "You love gettin' all sweaty don't you?" His head began to shake, his expression furrowing a bit in disgust. "No, Santana. You love getting all sweaty. The feeling of those cool droplets on your hot muscles during a hard workout? Doesn't it feel good?" He pauses, before reluctantly nodding. Ahh I love gettin my fingers in his brain, never ceases to please. "You love that funk that comes off your sweat, Santana. You love sniffin your pits, your big feet, your balls... That musk means you're workin' hard. Keeping in shape. Staying virile. Isn't that right?" He nodded, squirming in the chair. I watched his body try to reject the instructions, try to rebel, but just one repetition had his back to stillness.

"You don't even like golf, do you?" He nodded, I didn't even need to manipulate him. "You much prefer hitting the beach, don't you? Seein' all the guys and gals starin' at your glorious bod... You love it, don't you?" He nodded, the side of his lip curling ever so slightly. "You love bringing out the speedo, letting the goods hang low, letting the buns bulge... you know they all wanna see it anyway..." He nodded again, it was like taking candy from a baby. The guy had the mental fortitude of a frog.

"You like fucking, too. You can have any girl or guy on the street with a single wink." He nodded, and I couldn't help but watch as his groin started to bulge. "Yeah, boy. You love taking that horse cock and plowing it into some ass... plowing it into some pussy... fucking their pretty little mouths..." Drool started to drip from the corner of his lip, and a little wet spot quickly appeared on his pants. "You're a freak, aren't you, Santana? You like fuckin' in the car, in the sauna, at the gym, under the desk... gushing gallons into them while you shove your sneaker on their face." He was moaning, slowly grinding against the open air. Can't lie, I was gropin' myself a bit just watching him.

"Now, Santana. I'm going to bring you back to your office, but when I do, you are going to be super laid back and chill with Santi during your sessions. If he says the word 'sniff' you will return to this space, return to an open mind, just as we have done here today. Do you understand?" He nodded one final time before I began his emergence. Counting back from one to ten, I watched as he slowly came back to the real world, and with one snap, he blinked his eyes and wiped his brow.

"Well, doc. I got the bragging rights." Fabrega pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he had a headache. Time to see if it had all paid off.

"Uhh... yeah... Santi. You got me there..." Perfect. He pulled his hand away from his nose, clicking the shades back up to their little hole. It didn't take long until he saw the wet patch on his bulbous package. He chuckled under his breath. "You'll have to excuse the mess, Santi... I have hyperspermia, so sometimes it all just flows out." Hot- and totally unprofessional. Just how I like 'em. I leaned back in my chair, smirkin' the whole way.

"Damn, doc. Firehose down there. Gonna have to show me sometime." He smirked and waved me off.

"I don't fraternize with clients, Santi. Oh, look at the time. I'm late for my 5:30. Alright, I'll see you next week." He stood up, extending his hand, his whole demeanor entirely changed. I slipped my Vans back on, spitting on my hand before gripping his. He shuddered a bit, sure. But we were gonna get real close, real quick.

---

The next few days flew by. My folks were so excited to see that I was looking forward to seeing Dr. Fabrega, and I loved knowing what they didn't. I was excited to see if Dr. Fabrega was gonna be Santana. So when I finally got back in for my appointment, I didn't need to wait long at all. Only five minutes and the door swung open, the receptionist completely flustered. The anticipation was killing me. She sat down behind her computer with tunnel vision and I walked into the office.

At first, I thought it was empty. He wasn't sitting at his desk, on the couch... but as I heard huffing from the balcony, I knew where to find him. I walked up to the sliding glass door, and turned outside to see one hell of a sight.

It was Santana. Nothing on but his whitie-tighties and his damp socks doing pushups on the bench. Fuck, those muscles were glistening in the light, his underwear with damp patches on his ass and bulge. His clothes sat in a pile near his head: jeans, a Miami Heat jersey, some sick dunks I wanted to steal... far from the stuffy suit he had on just the week before. He finally noticed me, and smiled.

"Santi! Hey! Just finishing up my lunch workout. Thought I'd get a session in today on the balcony. Damn, the fresh air is good for exercise!" I smirked. It was night and day. So far, gone was the bible thumping hypocrite, and here was what was underneath. If anything I was doing him a service.

"Shit, Santana! You're looking prime today. You gonna funk out our session today, or?" I punched him in the shoulder, and he giggled like a kid.

"It's eau naturale, my friend. Natural water. That's what it smells like." He slipped on his jeans and his big fuckin' sneakers, tossing the jersey over his head while we walked in. He trailed some deliciously ripe musk, and I couldn't help but savor a bit of it. We plopped down on our seats, and just started shootin' shit. I bitched about the parents, he bitched about his receptionist, I told him about Sammy suckin' my dick clean, and he told me about the threesome with a gym bro and his girlfriend. He was coming along beautifully. Though, I thought to myself, how's about a round two?

"Dude, by the way, those kicks are fuckin' tight." I pointed to the dunks, which he smugly kicked up onto the coffee table, showing them off.

"Thanks, man. They're the lifting shoes. My work boots, heh." I reached out, grabbing ahold of his foot, and yanked it off. He chuckled like a fuckin' idiot while I looked at 'em. Size 13, nice and big- and the smell wafting out of there... Fuck, man.

"Damn, dude you never wash your socks? These stink!" I playfully tossed the shoe at him, and just as he started to brush off the comment, I said my magic word. "Sniff it." Like a flipped lightswitch, his expression turned numb, slowly bringing the shoe to his nose and inhaling his own musk. I clapped my hands, rubbing them together: let's do a little more programming.

"Santana, You're a pretty chill guy, you know that?" He nodded. "You smoke, don't you? You know, the good shit?" Deep in his mind, he had to know it was me talking at this point, so I was talking to him like a bro. Establishes trust, ya know? He shook his head no. "Ahh, come on man. You love kickin' back and toking on that reefer after a long workout." Santana chuckled a bit, before nodding, still nose deep in his sneaker. "Yeah, you love smokin' out your bros, your babes... when you're not shootin' tequila!" He full out laughed on that one, nodding along. The sneaker slowly dropped from his hand, and he laid back in his chair.

"How old are you, Santana?"

"28." Shit, he was only a few years older than me. I mean, he looked young. But hell, you wouldn't have known it from the way he acted.

"Where are you from?" "Rio de Janeiro." Interesting. I clocked the accent. I was pretty proud of myself.

"Why do you try so hard to hide it? The way you talk, the way you dress, the way you act... You act like you're from Ohio." Another chuckle, I should have had a Netflix special. "You're gonna embrace that Brazilian pride, bro. Don't hide it for some mayo drinking buzzkills!" He furrowed his brow, nodding intently. This one was for his own fuckin' good. Be proud of that shit! "You should get some ink to really embrace it. Nothin' sexier than a tatted up stud, am I right?" He nodded again, his bulge once more springing to life. I smirked, simply wanting to know a little something somethin'.

"Do you think Santi is hot?" He sat there for a second, before slowly smiling and nodding. I didn't even need to program that one. Aww, big old himbo. "You're not afraid to let him know, are ya? I mean if you tell his crazy fuckin' parents that he's cured... He wouldn't be your patient anymore... Right?" His bulge twitched again, and he smirked devilishly as he nodded. "You like it when he's all up in your brain, don't you? You like it when he gets his dick deep in there and mind fucks you into a chill, laid back stud. Don't ya?" The dampness grew and his breath got heavy. He nodded, drooling down the sides of his cheeks. "Yeah, you wanna let him in completely, don't ya? Make you like him?" Moans grew, and his thrusting in the air quickened pace. "You wanna be best bros with him, don't ya? Bros with benefits... hangin' out, smokin' weed, hittin' the clubs, swappin' spit... swappin' cum... swappin' subs..." He started fuckin' howl. He was beggin' to splurge. "When I tell you, you will cum. And when you do, everything we talked about will be your truth. Now... Cum."

His eyes opened, still moaning loudly. He gripped onto his jeans, pulling down the waistband and underwear, that big old uncut donkey dick flopping out before shooting his load all over himself. Volley after volley. He wasn't kidding about the hyperspermia: maybe four double shots of his spunk sprayed like a geyser into the air. The 8th Natural Wonder of the World. He laid back and chuckled, throwing his arms behind his head.

"Fuck, brother!" The thickest accent flowed of those lips, deliciously thick. "After today, that'll be down your throat, cara." He pointed at me, hopping to his feet and shoving his python back into his pants. "So, I'll write your discharge papers, it'll get the pais off your back. Act the part until you're out, and just go live." Fuck yeah, we high fived, and I ruffled that sweaty mullet of his. "Hey, come over tonight. I got some friends comin' over... if you and Sammy wanna join." He winked and slapped my back. Damn, I did good.

"I'll be there, man! You save me a round so I can show you how to clean this dick." I groped my bulge, smirking as his bit his lip and winked. I've created a monster.

---

"Ei, sexy! Come get a toke before it's gone!" Such a demanding little bitch, I love him. I slipped his filled condom off my cock, the kinky fucker insisted, and I happily complied. If I'm being real, this psycho has taught me things! I flushed it down the toilet, and swung the bathroom door open to see him lounging on his bed, toking away at the blunt I packed.

"Hey you fuckin' hog, don't you smoke it all!" He chuckled dumbly, reaching over to hand me the blunt, taking the opportunity to snatch my wrist and pull me forward into a kiss. Fuck those lips were so good, pressed against mine or around my cock. "Isn't Carrie coming over soon? You gonna be able to get off so quick?" I pushed away, taking my puff.

"Ahh, plenty to go around, eh?" He groped that musky bulge that I had a feeling Sammy would be huffing later. "Ey, bring me my pants. We can go get a shot before she gets here." Heh, the last month or so crashing with him has been fuckin' sick. The folks think I'm rooming with some guy from the church, when really I'm gooning with my therapist every night in his bed. Savannah is letting me take online courses, I'll have my B.A. in a couple of years, and I'm already getting some gallery hits. Santana is gonna be my armcandy for the opening, and I told him to forget his deodorant. Fuck he’s perfect. But a thought had crept in my head the other day. One last program, one final idea planted in his head... Though, at this point, there was no need to put him under. I'd just ask him.

"Hey, so I gotta go to Georgia to finish up some paperwork at the school. It got me thinking... I'm followin' my dream. What about you?" I tossed him his pants and passed the blunt, taking a deep whiff of those ripe dunks before throwing them his way too.

"I could go back to the practice, though I think the bible thumpers would lose their minds, heh."

"Well... What we did for eachother... What if you did it for others?" I slowly got down to my knees, a smirk crawling across my face. "What if you could help those poor... misguided young men change their lives?" I crawled toward him, spreading his legs wide as I tossed his legs over my shoulders. "Wouldn't that be so... so... fun?" I slowly pulled down his musky briefs, releasing his monstrous cock again, the musky hooded beast slapping me on my cheek. "Then, we could have so... many... new.. friends..." I pulled down his slimy hood and wrapped my lips around his tip. I should have known better. His hand grabbed the back of my head, slamming it down onto his spear, my nose buried in his bush as he thrust back and forth into my mouth.

"Unff... Yeah, brother... Oh yeah... That sounds like a good... unhhhhh... good idea." Grunting, slapping, moaning, slurping... it all rang out in his room, until he gushed another thick load down my throat. "You wanna join me?" And in that moment, I smiled. It was the best idea he'd had yet.

[faegoddessog]

Affirmations

Warnings: Explicitly Mature Content, 18+, angsty boy, microdosing, sex as therapy, Gentle Dom/subby boy, cunnilingus, felatio, untrotected PiV, (protect yourself out there loves!) established relationship.

Summary: You know all too well the erratic nature of his ego. How he has to hold the soft fragile parts of himself with the equal but opposite hardened bits. Both contribute to his being an incredible actor, but sometimes he just can't balance it all anymore. When it all comes crashing down, you are there. This time, though, you are ready with something a little different.

A/N: So after he finished his recent filming, I remembered how he's talked before about how it can feel like loss for him and triggers abandonment issues sometimes. Then this fic came barreling out. I mean, it's ONE way to get your affirmations in... rewrite that mental script... 😈😉

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“Hey sugar,” you said as he walked in the door. He was earlier than you  had expected. You stand to meet him, knowing he's gonna need a hug at the very least. His face is crumbling mask. “Are you ok? I know how hard a film wrapping is for you.” 

His shoulders slump slightly, grateful to not have to put on a brave face anymore. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he rubs the back of his neck, “I just…I don’t want to let go. It’s just bittersweet.” 

You know he’s talking about his character as much as the fleeting community inherent to filming. You’ve been watching him dig deep for the past few months. You gave him space to do so and had been supporting him in countless little ways. But you too, have been preparing for this day. 

“Well I'm here for you, for whatever you need, even if you just want to sit quietly," you offer.  You know that sometimes he just needs another person near, someone to anchor him a little. Other times, well, he needs more.

He nods to the floor, then looks up with unshed tears in his eyes. He pulls you in for a hug, burying his face in your shoulder. 

“I need a cuddle or something,” he sniffs. 

“Cry if you need to, I love you no matter what,” a gentle reminder. You gather him in and pull the both of you down on the couch.

All his defenses are swept away in those few words, in the simple act of love. He breaks down, sobbing into your shoulder as he begins to process the full weight of his stress, physical exhaustion and the emotional toll of the past few months.

You stroke his back in circles, whispering words and sounds of encouragement. You are fully present with him as he just lets it out. You are only a little surprised it happened so fast. Normally he needs a while to get to this point. Either it's really bad, or he's actually beginning to count on you. 

He sniffs, trying to compose himself, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You are so patient and gentle with my messy emotions.” 

“Did you take your microdose today?” you ask, knowing the mushrooms help him deal with his depression. 

“Shit, no… not for like a week,” his eyes widen, “no wonder i feel like this,  fuck I’m an idiot!” 

“No you are not,” you say firmly, ” go take them now and I’ll draw you a bath."  He can be so hard on himself. 

“Can it be a bath for us?” his eyebrows raise in query.

“Of course,” you smile. Water is your element, and you love being in it with him. 

He comes into the bathroom a few minutes later, a spoon of dried, crushed ‘shrooms covered in honey in his mouth. It doesn’t take much to keep him balanced, just a sub perceptive a few tenths of a gram. But it helps best when he takes it regularly. 

You are standing in the oversized tub in the soft candlelight. The room smells of relaxing essential oils like lavender, chamomile and ylang ylang. 

His heart swells in appreciation and love for you. 

“Wow,” he stops in the doorway, “you look like the birth of Venus, only more gorgeous.” 

He places the spoon on the counter absentmindedly. 

You smile, blushing. You always feel just a bit self conscious when compliments flow so freely from his angelic face. He is the definition of stunning. Not that it really mattered to you anymore what he looked like. His true beauty is in the way he treated people, treated you, his presence, his unwavering gaze, his genuine interest in people. It all made him even more stunning on the inside. If only he'd treat himself the same way.  This is when an idea strikes you. 

You sit and beckon with your arms. 

“Yes my Goddess,” his clothes puddle on the ground and in seconds he slips with a hiss into the hot water. 

You breathe deep as he leans back against you, hoping to trigger a sympathetic down-regulation in his own breathing.

You pour oil into your hands and begin to work on the knots in his neck and shoulders. You try to ponder your idea, but having him between your legs in any fashion, a casual leg tossed over yours on the couch,  his hand warming between your knees in the car, is so distracting. 

He melts at your touch, surrendering himself little by little. 

“MM that feels incredible,” he murmurs after a few minutes.

“YOU are incredible, hunny. I’m so proud of you,” you are trying not to sound like some mock matron but also you know that he needs those words of affirmation.

He shakes his head and huffs out a derisive laugh, “Praising me for just sitting here? Letting you take care of me?” 

“No, praising you because you are willing to be truly vulnerable with me, because you give so much to your craft, even though you know it can make you feel this way. Praising you because I love you exactly as you are and how you show up in the world.” 

His breath shakes and he wipes at an errant tear, “I don’t deserve you.” 

“Well that is bullshit,” you huff matter of fact, “of course you deserve me.”

“You make it sound so simple,” he manages a small watery smile, “like loving someone who is emotionally unavailable and broken isn’t a huge burden.” 

“Oh, I must respectfully disagree Sir,” you know this is part of his process and dig down for your patience, “you are quite emotionally available, more so than most. Heck you just sobbed in my arms! And we all feel messy and broken at times.” 

“That’s true,” he sighs. 

“Loving you is never a burden,” you assure him, “all I need is for you to be yourself. Plus, you take care of me too.”

“I don’t know about that,” he murmurs stubbornly. 

“Nonsense, you always go out of your way to make me smile when I’m having a hard day. You always make me feel important to you, even when you are deep into your work.”

“You ARE important to me,” he turns suddenly to face you in the tub. His eyes are serious, as though the mere thought of the implication is offensive. 

He pulls you onto his lap, water splashing. “You are my constant, knowing you are here…it... it...” 

He buries his head in your chest, arms wrapped around your torso, unable to finish his thought.   

“Can I ask you a question?” his voice is tentative, nearly a whisper against your skin.

“Always.” 

“Do you ever think that I’m too intense, too dramatic? Not like for work, but in real life?” 

Is this what’s been bothering him so much? You wonder. 

“No baby” your tone reassuring, ”I think you save that for the cameras.” 

“It’s just that sometimes,” he goes on, “ I worry that I’m too needy and sensitive. I don’t want you to get fed up with me, ok? You have to tell me if… if…. Cuz I’m not sure I could do this without you.”

He must have glimpsed some stupid thing online or overheard someone making a stupid comment. He was always listening around people. It’s one of the things that drew people to him, the way he listened. 

“I’m not, you’re definitely not,  and I’m not going anywhere,” you tilt his chin to look in your eyes, “you are allowed to ask for help when you need it and to accept it when offered. We were put on this planet together for a reason. None of us are supposed to do this alone.” 

He heaves a big sigh. After a few breaths, he looks up at you.

“Y’know, when you say things like that, I feel like I can conquer this feeling of not enough. Like maybe I’m not as weak or as broken as I tell myself I am sometimes.” 

“Baby, you are neither weak nor broken. You are human. If I could ask anything of you, it’d be that you are just as kind to yourself as you are to others."  

“Gods,” he pleads to the ceiling, “me too,  but it’s hard to break, hard to not believe it when it’s ME telling myself that I'm not good enough, too sensitive, too needy.” 

“Bah,” you guffaw, “fucking tapes babe, tapes in your head, words from someone else that wormed their way into you. Well I’m implanting new tapes.” You mimic pushing an old cassette into his forehead.  “These tapes that talk of your kindness, your empathy. Tapes that say how your sensitivity is your superpower and helps you to be the amazing actor that you are. Tapes that proclaim you are enough, just as you are.” You give him a knowing look as he blushes.  “You know it’s all true.” You move your legs and straddle his lap water sloshing over the side of the tub. “Do you know why I’m so willing to take care of you like this?” 

He shakes his head, heart racing from both your declarations and your intimate positioning in his lap.  

“Because I know that if I was having a hard day, you wouldn’t hesitate to do it for me. That’s partnership, that’s love.” 

You suspect that the neuroplasticity of the microdose may be starting to take effect. His eyes well up with tears again, this time with a smile.

“You know me so well.  Sometimes you are the only thing that makes sense,” he gathers you in his arms, “I love you, so much.” 

His pulling of your body rocks your hips into his, pushing the fact that he is indeed nestled between your thighs again to the forefront of your thoughts. 

“I love you too, so much,” you run your fingers through his hair, planting kisses on his neck. “I am the luckiest girl in the world.”

He shivers at your touch, at your kisses, his breath catching in his throat. 

“I’m sorry hunny, do you need me to stop? I don’t want to push you if you don’t want….” 

“No, please don’t stop,” he tightens his grip on your hips, pulling them deeper to him. “Your touch, it isn't just sexual, it’s comforting, it’s home. I love it so much. “

“Oh yeah,” your voice low and sultry, “how much.”

“Let’s uh…let’s get out of this tub,” he says all of a sudden. 

You reluctantly climb off him. As you both dry off, you wonder if he caught your offer. At the same time you don’t want to pressure him if he’s worn out.

He climbs into bed, pulls back the covers to his waist, and opens his arms, “Come here, I need to hold you.” Sometimes needs to be skin to skin like this without the sex. 

Seeing him naked in bed and not slipping those sheets down further, not mounting him like some kind of thoroughbred? It’s a hard pill to swallow right now. He’s been so focused on work and has hardly been home for more than just to sleep for a month. You found yourself missing the way his body feels on yours, in yours. It’s gonna be hard not to try and cajole him into sex, but this is what partners do for each other. 

You snuggle against him, trying to disregard the wetness making your inmost thighs slick. 

His arms wrap around you, fingertips trailing over your stomach.

“How much? How’s about I show you just how much,” his voice slides like butter, hot and silky over your ear, “Tell me, how wet are you?”  Apparently, he was picking up what you were putting down. His fingers splay out across your belly, holding you tight as he presses his suddenly hard cock against your backside. Who is tempting who now? 

The smile that tilts your lips is inevitable.

“You know I can’t help it, everything about you turns me on.” You try to sound apologetic, but just can’t. “It’s ok if you don’t want to do anything about it,” you try desperately to keep your voice nonchalant, convincing precisely no one. 

“Turn around,” his voice low with a hint of gravel.

You shrug in mock deference as you turn over in his arms ,  “I can just take care of it myself.”  You are fully aware of how much he likes to see you touch yourself and if that’s all you get out of this evening you are fine with that. But you might also be pushing very specific buttons to get him back between your thighs. 

His cock twitches and throbs against you. 

“As tempting as that is, maybe I want to be the one that makes you feel good,” his chest rumbles. 

A sly smile crosses my face. “I’m supposed to be making you feel good here.” You swing your leg up over him to settle on his upper belly. Your wetness smears in the hollow under his ribs. “I could just do it here, where you can see.” 

“You…. “ he breathes out. 

You reach down and tantalizingly pull your lips apart. A string of thick, wet juices stretch between them. 

“Oh god that is hot,” he says, eyes locked on your glistening flesh. “You know I can’t just… won’t be able to not…” 

“Poor baby boy, unable to finish…” your lips curl into a mock pout at the same time you reach back and wrap your hand around his swollen cock, “...his sentences.” 

“Oh I can,” he flexes his hips, pressing his cock into your fist. His tongue darts out to lick his beautiful lips. “Let me finish,” he whispers nearly to himself.

“Oh does Baby Boy need Ma’am’s little pussy in his mouth?” You toss out your gentle Dom/sub names to see if he's willing. You know that focusing on someone else can help stop his downward spiral.

“Y-yes, Ma’am, I do,”  he blushes deeply, biting his lip and dropping his eyes. Good lord he is so stunningly enticing when he submits like this.

“Would being my good boy make you feel better?” you want to be sure of his consent. 

He nods eagerly, and seriously. You see just how much he wants it, wants to be told what to do and just let his mind go with someone he trusts. 

You raise an eyebrow at him in mock warning. 

“Yes Ma’am,” he quickly says, “I’ll be a good boy.” 

“Just a good boy,” you nearly pout in mock disappointment. 

“Your good boy,” he can’t say fast enough, “I’m yours Ma’am.” 

“Mmm hmm that’s better. I’m going to sit on that gorgeous face now,” you move your body up, knees on either side of his head. 

“Can I push my tongue inside you? Taste you? Please?” his face is fully deep pink now, embarrassed at his boldness. 

“Of course, baby Boy, of course you can tongue fuck me,” you love how he tries not to be crass, but you practically insist on it. You lower yourself onto him slowly, his tongue out and reaching for your folds, flicking as it comes into contact with your wetness. It sinks in, searching for it’s slot.

“Yes, that’s it, tongue that sweet little hole for Ma’am,” you praise him soothingly. Now is not the time for forcing anything.  

He whimpers softly as you finger-comb his hair, the sensation on his sensitive scalp making him feel more submissive.  He burrows his face between your thighs and pushes inside you as far as he can, nose pressed up against the apex of your folds. 

“Good Boy,” you fist his hair and moan, you just barely keep your hips from pressing into his face. “Keep that up and you’ll earn a reward.” One hand reaches back and lightly brushes his hard shaft. 

His moan vibrates your pussy, notching you up just that much more.

“Do you know what others out there would give to ride this beautiful face? Or to suck this pretty cock? How many of them want you to be theirs?” You ask, voice still even and calm.

“No, and I don’t want to, Ma’am,” he mumbles against your wetness ,”I am yours, only yours.” 

His hands grip your cheeks, tilting your hips and  exposing more of you. He runs his tongue over your tight pucker and up over your labia, over and over in supplication.

“Oh fuck yes,” you moan, “ such a good boy, you’re gonna make Ma’am cum. Is that what you want?”

“Mm, hmmm,” he nods, refusing to use his tongue for anything other than pleasing you. His lips close in sucking kisses on your labia, 

One hand in his glorious hair, the other lightly grasping his cock. You give both a squeeze. 

The sensations make his whole body shake. He buries his face in your pussy, tongue thrusting inside.

You free his cock  and he whines and whimpers, humping his hips upward, desperate for attention. 

“Suck on that clit Baby Boy, you gotta make Ma’am cum if you want more.” 

With a desperate whine, he latches onto your clit. His hands grip your hips tightly as though nothing mattered more than worshiping your pussy. 

The sucking and flicking of his tongue sends waves of pleasure through you. His natural attention to detail and the ardor with which he does it, makes his pussy eating beyond heavenly. 

Within minutes you are shaking above him. His fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips, rocking you forcibly back and forth over his face. 

“So close baby,” your voice is little more than a panting whine. 

“Mmm hmmm” his hum vibrates against your abused bundle of nerves and you are gone. Spine jerking, hips grinding, toes curling. Your head is thrown back and your fingers press against his, trying to weave into his, trying anchor yourself somewhere. But his grip is tight to the round flesh of your cheeks.  He laps at you with long licks, prolonging, but not overstimulating. 

“Oh good boy, good fucking baby,” you moan as you look down at him. His eyes shine with eagerness, he loves when you praise him, loves being a good boy for you. 

You dismount the saddle of his messy face. His smile slides into need as your hand trails down his stomach, stopping a hairsbreadth from his quivering tip. 

“Oh darling boy, you more than earned your reward,” you plant the barest of kisses on his wet lips. “How do you want it, my hand or my mouth, sweetness?”

“Y-your mouth, Ma’am, please,” he stutters, little vertical lines of want forming between his eyebrows. 

“Tch, Baby Boy, you know how much I love your cock in my mouth,” you mockingly chide, one fingertip lightly petting his little weeping hole, “are you picking it to please me? Or do you actually want it?” 

“Yes, no, yes,” his head tries to agree with his words but ends up just drawing scribbles with his chin.

“Well, which is it?”

“Yes please, it’s what I want,” he breathes out.

“And you deserve what you want, don’t you Baby Boy.” 

He hesitates, mind balking at feeling worthy of what he wants. 

“Don’t you,” you insist, swiping this precum over his head with the pad of your thumb.

“Ok, yes, I deserve it,” he relents. 

“Mmmm, yes you do,” you move between his legs, “now reach back, grab the headboard with both hands and keep them there.” 

He immediately obeys, forearms popping in lines as he grips.  His legs spread wider, giving you room to do your work. He is so eager to have your mouth on him. 

His cock, leaking and hard, jumps and jerks in an attempt to get closer to your face.

“You’re gonna give me all your cum, right? Let Ma’am take care of you?” you ask just before your tongue reaches out to lap at his frenulum.

He trembles at your teasing lick, nodding frantically. 

“Y- y-yes Ma’am, I- I’ll give you everything,” his breath catches as you take his tip in your mouth, your tongue swirling. 

You slide up and down, covering him in your spit. Holding him upright with a light forefinger and thumb, you massage your soft palate with his tip. The deeper you take him, the lower his groans become.  His glutes flex and his balls tighten. 

You pull off to his whiny protest both in his voice and in the straining of his hips from the bed. 

“Who’s an amazing boy?” you ask, rubbing his tip over your lips like so much lipgloss. 

“Please Ma’am,” he whines. 

You give him the look, the one that says ‘answer the question asked’.

“I-I am, I’m amazing, I’ll be the best boy for you Ma’am, just please,” his need making a beggar out of him. 

“Yes you are,” you lower your mouth back down, engulfing him for two more minutes. The uninhibited sounds he makes are music to your ears; groans, huffs, deep shaky oh- hohs.

“And who is going to accept help when he needs it without feeling guilty?” you purr to him.

Your ears are met with a cacophony of his whimpering moans. 

“Me, I will, ask help, no guilt,” his words muddle together.

“Good boy,” you lightly rub up and down his shaft, “and who is deserving of my love?” 

“Me” his voice is strained with desire, “I deserve your love.” His hips buck into your hand.

“That’s right” you plunge his needy cock into your mouth and he’s back to sounds of pleasure. After five deep bobs of your head you come off with a pop. 

“Who’s sensitivity is his superpower?”

“Me, mine, my power” he is panting heavily now, body shuddering with unmet need. “Please Ma’am please let me cum.” 

You stop touching him all together. His arms are taut gripping the headboard as he stops from reaching down to jerk himself off. 

“Oh Baby Boy,” you softly rebuke, “I will, just keep doing as I say. Now tell me you love yourself and that you are worthy of love and recognition.” 

“I- l love myself,” his voice is laced equally with need, desperation and vulnerability, “I am worth loving” a tear escapes down his cheek. “I am worthy of recognition and appreciation.” 

He looks down at you, planted between his thighs.  His defenses are stipped away and there you are  forcing him to say things that he has never allowed himself the luxury of believing. 

“Now repeat it as I suck you off,” you lower your mouth to just out of reach, waiting for him to speak.

“I, oh fuck” he moans as you hover over him.  

“Let me hear you, or I’ll stop,” you warn.

“I love myself,” he begins, your warm mouth envelopes him, “Oh fuck yeah, I deserve love, your love. I’m worthy of being seen and appreciated. I’m enough.” 

Your hand pumps up and down under your mouth, strings of saliva drip onto his balls. 

“Oh fuck yes, I’m so fucking worthy,” his words like a floodgate as you work him. “I’m loved, I’m deserving, I’m your good boy, I deserve your love and my cumming, Oh god i’m so worthy and you love me just as I’m enough, I’m enough I’m so fucking enough. Oh god it’s so good. I love you, I love me, I’m gonna cum so fucking hard,” 

His hips buck up into your throat. A desperate guttural moan escapes his chest and he spills, thick and hot over your tongue.

You gulp and swallow every drop. 

“Keep it up,” you say, your double meaning all too clear as you straddle his hips and sink your dripping pussy over his throbbing cock. 

“Oh fuck,” his eyes roll back. 

You pull at his hand, pressing his thumb against your clit. 

“Say it,” you insist as you start to ride him. 

“I’m - I’m enough, I’m worthy” he chokes out each affirmation between gasps of over-stimmed pleasure. 

You grind into him, chasing your orgasm.

“I deserve you, your love ohgodohgodohgod I love you, to be fucked like this, pleasured like this, I am worthy, I  am loved, I am enough,”  his words are mantras, letting his stream of consciousness flow.

“Yes you fucking are,” you moan as you ride, “You glorious, magnificent man.” 

“I am worthy, I am loved, I am enough,” he says through gritted teeth. “Worthy, loved, enough, worthy, loved, enough. Oh god I’m gonna cum again.” 

Your movements become frantic as you force yourself into the abyss, dragging him with you.

Your hips tuck, your back rounds. His ass raises you, forcing himself deep inside. His words turn into a convulsing mishmash of hard G’s and open vowel sounds. The soundtrack to your own orgasm.  Your pussy floods with both your own release and  the cum his body is tensing to deliver. You lift and thrust and jerk in mind-wiping pleasure. His hands grip you, pleading for the stillness he can’t voice right now. 

Finally, you collapse, sweaty and spent, on top of his heaving chest.  His arms lock on to you as you both recover breath and sanity.

“Say,” he swallows, “say it again, please?”

You nuzzle his cheek with your own. “You are more than enough just as you are. You are an amazing human, Austin. Your sensitivity is your superpower. You are worthy of my love, of your own love. You deserve pleasure and joy.” You cup his face, staring into his ocean eyes. “I love you so much and nothing will ever change that.” 

His eyes well up with tears, emotion threatening to overwhelm him yet again. “I love you too. You are magic.”  He holds you close, the weight he walked in with happily lifted.

[lllllllllllines]

(I urge that you read this to the end, as I know some of you will take pieces of what is said here and use it as ammunition for more drama. I can't really do tl;dr because i feel like it would ruin a lot of my points)

I don't usually like to deal with drama or discourse in general leaves a bad but I feel like this needs to be said.

This discourse is stupid, a lot of different points on either side due to several reasons at least in my opinion.

Ive seen many people who were against palworld use claims for stolen designs, mentions of AI art as well as lots of people either acting in defense of game freak/TPC/Nintendo as well as some acting in defense of artistic integrity.

I've seen the people who were for the game act in one singular way while just trying to have fun with it(which i cannot deny, it looks fun as fuck).

This being them claiming that they are just kissing the boots of Nintendo, though i don't think its quite fair to put them in the same category.

Just have fun with the game, no need to engage with the hate if you don't want to(even though i know it's difficult, especially when it's staring you in the face).

For those who are for, I only have a couple things to say.

Companies are not faceless entities, I know that this sounds like basic knowledge but I've noticed that's not something people usually mention.

Not everyone who attacks this game, cares for pokemon. Im gonna go in more depth when i get to them, but i feel like this needs be said.

While there are many good things on the internet, the internet as a whole, especially nowadays, is chaos and pain.

So many different opinions, leading to low self-esteem and rage.

You just want to have fun, you probably don't like pokemon, or if you do, you probably don't like what they've been doing with it.

You've seen the early trailers and had a laugh, found out this year that it came out, sought it out be cause hey, could be a bit of a meme.

But soon you start to actually have fun with it and hope it succeeds, despite some of the designs not being totally original, and you don't care.

But soon, like usual, you find that there are people who dislike the game.

In the real world, it doesn't matter to you, it rolls off you like nothing, because you don't know them, maybe you get into a heated argument with a friend.

But as soon as you hit the internet, you feel as though people are personally attacking something you like, (emotions are hard to convey through text) so you defend.

Not really caring about how it sounds to those you desperately fight against.

But in the end that's just adding fuel to the flame.

(though I can say that this discourse is great publicity for the game, good or bad it still lets people know that it exists.)

So just have fun with it.

(Unless dealing with discourse like this is fun for you idk)

For those who are against,

I am first going to speak to those who seem to want to defend Game Freak/TPC/Nintendo and those who speak for artistic integrity.

Why do any of your thoughts matter when it comes to a company.

as I had stated earlier, people usually associate companies and conglomerates as faceless entities.

They don't see them like systems, heavily broken systems, like if a beehive were born from an unloving tyrannical queen.

The ones at the top exist to fill their pockets while those at the bottom suffer for it.

I bet around half of the people speaking of artistic integrity don't really know the names of the designers of each pokemon(and to those who do, I'm glad, cause then I know you know what you're talking about.)

I feel as though speaking of artistic integrity only works when you're talking about an individual.

Which means, by extension, that a company like Nintendo, or the other two companies that own or work on the ip, those that see only the product and the work.

To them, artistic integrity is dead.

Why else would the shoot down fan works so heavily?

To keep their product close to the chest.

But what about the claims that they stole from fakemon artists?

To my knowledge, (please let me know if im wrong) there has only been one claim of such a thing, and it was soon taken back as they soon found out that the palworld model was older than their's.

Which im pretty sure proves that claim false.

And to the people who are against AI art, don't get me wrong, I hate the idea as much as you do.

But AI image generation like many things is a tool.

And if used properly, tools can be useful.

like say for example, you have an idea you want to draw, but you can't fully figure it out in your head.

There are no pictures that fully convey what ur thinking in the depth you want for a reference, you could use an image generator for reference.

Add to an image in your own way, while removing the parts that were taken by the algorithm.

Be creative.

When tools are used properly, they can do a lot of good things.

The reason people hate AI art, is because people are being stupid and lazy with it.

Hell, i think pocketpair realized their mistake a long time ago as not only has that game been absolutely shat on in the steam reviews, but you cant even find it on their website, or at least i haven't.

Lastly, I'm gonna show you a trailer for a game pocketpair is also making, it should be coming put Q1 this year.

A game I have not heard mentioned this whole discourse.

As an honest question, what part of this looks AI generated to you?

Its a 2D sidescrolling platformer, said to be a mix of a metroidvania and a roguelite, also with base building elements since that seems to be a commonality for them.

The only things i could see that were taken or inspired by are the backgrounds, which feel very hollow knight, and the main mechanic being a possession mechanic which loosely reminded me of super mario Odyssey.

I've seen AI 2D animation, and it's usually pretty jarring due to how quickly everything warps and changes as things move.

I don't see that in this.

Nor do i recognize any of the monster or character designs.

I could be wrong and both palworld and never grave could be scams, seeing as both are in early access.

And if or when i am, then that's egg on my face.

Those that were all happy to play a new and exciting game, will seeth and mald.

And you can live happily, i guess.

But it at least shows they know some integrity.

I mean, as long as they make any of the new pals that come out more original than the 111 that they have now, we should be fine.

The only time we should be outraged, is if there is sort of harm coming to the workers, and I don't think I've heard any news on that.

If it bothers you that much, make your own game.

Actively do something about it rather than complain on the internet.

Like, I can't even imagine how difficult that is.

Especially for a smaller company.

Pokemon has it easy, It doesn't need defense.

Defend it from itself before defending it from others.

Stop paying for shit that doesn't work out the gate.

Do something to force the people making the bad game to do better.

And stop trying to shit on the little guy for your own ideals.

Criticism is fine, yelling over a game on the internet is not.

Not by a long shot.

But hey I don't think anyone is gonna read this.

Much less to the end.

Because I've scrolled passed shorter posts for less.

[musashi]

As a creative, how do you keep going? I see you making fanfics, videos, art, gifs, sitting down and learning something new just because you wanted to. I've always had such a hard time turning ideas into actual finished pieces. At first i thought it was fear of failing but I've been tackling that for years but the progress I've made its still not enough. I've tried doing it "just for fun", for personal growth, for money, as part of a community. Hell, I've tried out of spite. Please, how do keep creating?

that's a tough one because it really is about getting to the bottom of what is stopping you, and it sounds like you've done a lot of work on that with little results. thats gotta be frustrating!

i can tell you that for me, i feel fully fucking crazy when i do not create. this is not as much the case anymore, but when i was younger i felt like the ideas were trapped inside me and that holding them in was literally making me sick. i created because i had to or i felt physically bad.

i had a huge sprawling story in my head for YEARS tho and i had to get it out. and i wasn't. and back when i wasn't it was because i was depressed. depression for me feels like a lazy sunday that never ends, like i can't do anything, like i am locked in my own body and the only thing i have the energy to do is scroll social media for short-term dopamine.

but when i eventually decided ok, this is it, time to tell my story, what fixed me was seeing it like a job instead of a passion. for YEARS i had been fed this lie about "inspiration" and "motivation" and "writer's block" and now i am fully 100% of the belief that all of those concepts are bullshit lmao. i straightup do not believe in them any longer. i believe they are shields that creatives hide behind to absolve themselves of the guilt and frustration they feel when they are not creating.

in the end for me it just came down to this: once a week, it was time to write. no ifs ands or buts about it. at a set hour, on a set day, i would write for a set amount of time. and i could either make fucking hemingway or the worst collection of sentences known to man, but i HAD to write. i was not allowed to talk myself out of it. so that is what i did.

now, years later, looking back on all of my work--i could not tell you what i wrote when i felt "inspired" and what i wrote when i didn't. it all just looks the same to me, and most of it is pretty damn good.

i no longer write once a week. i write every day now. set times. set moments. sometimes alone. sometimes with friends. but every day, when it is time to write, no matter how i am feeling, i write.

currently i am also trying to get medicated for my ADHD so that focus doesn't feel so much like pulling teeth! that is also something i am excited to pursue more and see if it helps. but tl;dr my process is brute force and a schedule.

here is a little more i have said on the subject. i am sorry if it's not helpful, but maybe you will find something in my story that lines up with your own.

[blingusdlingus]

The Start of the Post-Modern Sonic Era

As time passes... Sonic Frontiers feels unreal to me. I still feel the psychic ripples that game made in the minds of thousands. Hearing about the physics nonstop. the buzzwords echoed in my brain for months... the rips at the English script-writing. It drove me to near madness. It was hard talking to people who weren't as deep in it as I was at that time... But I look back these days and I can't help but feel like the madness was exactly what I wanted. I can't make peace with this game like many others have, but I can't hate this game, I can't act like I'm indifferent to it. It did something to me that I can't dissect into a science. I don't feel like it's fair to try and categorize the feelings I have about it's writing into the set of ideals I've made for what I want these characters to be. I can't rule this one out... it broke the stagnant mold for me. An "Open-Zone" Sonic game with hyper-realistic environments, patch-worked with floating platforms and rails in the sky, janky camera movements and overtly flashy attacks for an unbalanced combat system, reused level design for one minute stages, hamfisted self-referential dialogue that had me groaning at points, a narrative that felt spread thin and disjointed, answering questions that didn't need answering. And it didn't even have Momentum. And yet... it is everything to me. AND NOW FOR THE CHILDHOOD HISTORY OF BLINGUS For the 20 years I've been alive, about 18 of those years I have spent with this deeply rooted attachment to Sonic. I was deeply fortunate as my cousin and my half-brother both had a Genesis with each of their own collection of games respectively, which of course, meant a lot of Sonic games. I was also gifted with having two brothers, who I dubbed as "the one with the GameCube" and "the one with the PS2". From age 2 (2006) to age 6 (2010), I had already created formative memories with the following: Sonic 1 Sonic 2 Sonic Underground Sonic 3D Blast Sonic Rush Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood Sonic Spinball Dr. Robotnik's Mean Bean Machine Sonic Heroes Sonic CD Sonic Adventure DX Sonic X Shadow The Hedgehog Sonic Rush Adventure Sonic Riders Sonic Unleashed Sonic Colors

These aren't even counting the games and shows I had learnt of online as a child who ABSOLUTELY shouldn't of been on the internet at such a young age but I digress. I just want to highlight the sheer amount of Sonic I took in in that time-frame. I think this chapter in my life planted the ideals that I hold to this very day, even throughout the madness. The problem is that... I don't even truly know what those ideals are. As I've grown I've played these games countless times, along with every game coming out after. I read the comics, I watched the shows, I got invested into the rom-hacking scene, and from there, the Fangame scene. My life changed and grew and my opinions of these games have shifted time and time and time again. Those roots never grew dry for me though, and I feel as if I owe my young self a lot for making memories with these games. Maybe it's a fear of losing innocence? It could be because I'm autistic as fuck? Maybe it's just love. Love for what these games represent for me, Love for what could've been. Loving it for what it is, what it was, loving it because people made it and that's all that matters. Loving to draw it, to find why others love it, and to open my mind to interpretation. Loving it to hate it, to write about it and talk to your friend's about it. To find out what made it tick, what's been lost over the years and how it's found again. Loving it because Super Sonic is raw as fuck and Shadow likes nu-metal hell yeah Oh yeah this was about Sonic Frontiers Well okay yeah the game is kinda mid but It's raw as hell and it's representation of growth and change is as prevalent in the narrative as it is in the eyes of the people. It made a ripple. Did Sonic Lost World make a ripple? Yes it did you fucking asshole

[johnny-chaos]

Gordon is notably characterized by his obnoxious and deeply uncool behavior but he's also defined by an incredible earnestness and desire for things to be taken seriously . And Benrey, on the other hand, is obnoxious too but for the exact opposite reasons-- devaluing things that, by Gordon's standards, should be taken seriously (such as murder) while playing up the absurdity and inconsistent application of rules in general (and also acting like a fucking third grader).

In that way the two of them have a lot in common, but with that one major caveat of seriousness . Really, they're both pretty earnest, and they both just wanna make jokes n have fun-- Gordon wants to be a justin.tv streamer and he talks to himself like an anime protagonist (GORDON SPRINT!!) and Benrey's whole thing is having his day ruined bc he couldn't play games with his friends . But Benrey also knows treating the game like it's real is idiotic, while Gordon can't help but treat it as if it were (and Scorpy Socpens n Wayne R. TV use this for some extremely good comedy).

In addition to THAT, you have Coomer, who, over the course of the webseries, realizes his life is a lie and his world is fake - subsequently becoming more lucid, serious, and aloof. His character arc brings up the question of What Does It Truly Mean, To Be Alive? (a tried and true story point !) They're all functioning on different understandings of their world-- they all understand nothing matters, but Coomer is just now realizing, and Benrey's always known it, and Gordon method acts so hard that he almost forgets it.

With that context HLVRAI becomes an argument on existential nihilism -- Coomer presents the question "nothing is real so is living this life valuable?" and Benry's response is essentially "no- if nothing matters then why care ? Do whatever you want forever ." And Gordon's is "of COURSE it's valuable, fuck you, this may not matter but I can care and try and hope and LIVE, BABY!!! leave me and my magmar plush OUTTA THIS!!" Quite a 4chan vs Tumblr argume(I am shot and killed)

But even though I describe Gordon as v earnest and sincere, it's not enitrely accurate, bc while he has a lot of Genuine Expressions of Emotion, he also seems to use anger to mask laughter ("if i had a knife i would gut you" said with an audible smile). Makes him seem less genuine and more like he's playing up the reactivity, but you still get a rly potent feeling that these are people he enjoys being around, and I'm sure that's also just Wayne R. TV playing gmod with his friends bleeding through .

Coomer's obviously the MOST sincere, he has literally the only lines that are SUPPOSED to be taken seriously. And Benrey may not be very sincere, but he IS (in Wayne R TV's words) the most sentimental, which is REALLY weird. He's constantly talking bullshit, but Scorpy Socpens still gives him these moments where it seems like he might actually care ("we should turn back.. we're going further . into HELL" and "why are we here? ..what happened to your arm?!") LIKE!! he and the others are all entertainers, they're all supposed to make you laugh (except for Dr. Coomer at one point), but Benrey especially, as he's this manifestation of insincerity and irony and absurdity--and yet?? some semblance of motivation??

If hlvrai is an argument on nihilism, then it's ALSO about how what makes life worth living is the people around you actually . Because of benrey's "nothing matters" mentality he gains Gordon's ire and subsequently becomes the antagonist as his stupid shenanigans are reframed as actively hindering the group (even though yeah EVERYONE gets in the way of everything all the time). Thus he becomes the Big Bad even though he's really just, not cut out for it . he knows his actions don't have meaningful consequences, but that sentimentality inevitably slips out, and yeah, his whole purpose is to be funny. you can't be funny to yourself now that's just embarrassing. he has the powers to shapeshift and time travel but he only does it when it's relevant to Gordon. i am constantly thinking about how he says "it replenishes your electronics" in this calm, mellow voice like he's got nothing to worry about and is just enjoying the moment . he just wants to play games with people, man!!!

and even though Gordon is so SO fucking uncool, he's allowed to be because he actually gives a shit!! even though they're both annoying, Benrey is the one who becomes the villain because of how detached he is. Gordon can stumble over his words and be clumsy as hell but he cares so deeply-- about the others, about putting on a show-- that his embarrassing attempts at being the hotshot hero of the story don't detract from his value. yeah this world isn't real but my friends are. yeah nothing matters but we can still try to help each other out. you are supposed to care!!! bitch

[jasminehahn]

No more mind games? No more mind.

I'm in a bad place. It's lasted a few months now. Physically it's been just over two years. It's gotten to the place that no matter what I do, it feels like I'll never be back into my own body and quite honestly that makes me not want to live sometimes. On the days that I can forget about it and feel normal for maybe a few hours (generally at home where I do not have to see anyone or do much), the impending doom of life decisions then consumes me. I'm nearly 33, if I want to have children, how on earth am I supposed to give them all the love and attention they need to have a better, more stable childhood than I did if I cannot be physically well every day.

I can't lose weight anymore without surgery, if I want to have a week (say for the holidays) where I don't track what I eat, I gain fat and I'm certain lipodema fat almost straight away. My strength doesn't improve, people think if I run, my symptoms get worse, I walk on average 10k steps a day, I work out all the time, yet if you looked at my normal blood results, I'm healthy. I'm healthy. No had to dig two years for a Lupus diagonsis, I don't have a lipodema diagnosis but it's there, something's not right with my periods but "lol that's just your period," - actual private gynaecologist (everyone says male dr's are unsympathetic, but in my experience it's the women who have never done shit for me.)

I'm somewhat privileged to have money for surgery, but that doesn't fix the face I'm looking at, which was fine 5 years ago. I've had two surgeries this year and I still feel like I'm wearing a fat suit, my skin on my legs and my arms feel like theyre going to rip. Now the fat has moved around my stomach, no definition that I had even a year and a half ago, no answers, just more pain, more heaviness, more clothes that I bought that don't fit. I'm not obese, I can't get ozempic, even though I should be managing any behaviour that makes me eat a treat every now and then and I'm hungry all the fucking time, so that will make the lipodema come back. There are so many "maybes" but not enough people that are willing to give you stuff to try, the only thing you can get is surgery, 7k a pop basically.

So now I'm a burden to money. I'm a burden, no you're not, but I am. I'm tied to it.

Who would've thought the mental stuff was going to be the easiest part, the ADHD, the autism, the emptiness that's come back, the Bi polar diagnosis that has thrown me into despair- or maybe it's the change of meds we never fucking know with these things. The never belonging how hard I try to fix things- now I'm rambling. No one fucking cares. They listen but they don't CARE, they don't listen, they try to help- THERE IS NO HELP. It's unsolicited. It's bullshit. It doesn't HELP. How do I try and keep going when there's an obstacle at every fucking turn, no respite, no release. 

Friends don't reply, they don't get how close I am. Other friends I don't tell because I can't bear the awkwardness and I fear the judgement even though it's a safe space. Cue the strangers to tell me that they're sorry and they're here to talk, bitch I just DID. Don't you get it. Doesn't anyone get it.

One of my favourite lines is "no more mind games? No more mind."

[emeritus-fuckers]

hello i was wondering if i could participate in the match up event?

I am afab and nb, I use any pronouns :) I'm cool with being any gender or being with any gender neither matters much to me

I lov the ghouls and their silly little shenanigans :)

I'm pretty feminine looking, I'm 5'1 and I'm built like a comic book male superhero like broad chest and shoulders but a straight line from the ribs down like a upside down dorito w legs

I'm asian so my eyes and hair are dark, my hair's like a shoulder-length wolf cut ish thing... idk I just hack at it. sometimes I wear glasses, but sometimes I just feel like being blind. When I get dressed I pretend like im dressing up in a fun little costume so my day is more whimsical and silly my go-to is like sailor uranus prince-type girl crush but a wizard or a wizard who is going on an epic expedition to recover lost artifacts but no matter the outfit the key is that I look like I'm secretly a merlin-style cartoonishly evil wizard. So i guess maybe like goth grunge academia something something pinterest buzzword Oh and I have major rbf, and it makes ppl scared of me

I'm an introverted person and I tend to be very logical but. I think different from a lot of ppl apparently. I've been described, to paraphrase, as "sort of ominous and mysterious but actually funny", "uncanny and unsettling in a good way", and "awkward and weird but its endearing" which just sound like insults. I like to live in my head and make silly stories and things to play with. Like every tumblr user I've got fucked up mental health and bad parents so I am kind of like one of those freaky ass chihuahuas that is always scared and shakes and bites people and has digestive issues. I tend to be hard to read or sort of deadpan so I like fucking w people since they can't tell if I'm joking bc i love mischeif and japes. I want to be a silly not-quite-supervillain like Dr doofinshmirtz or like a trickster archetype sort yk

I was a pretty intense synchronized swimmer for like 9 years I competed at like opens and nationals and all that when I was in school but my university doesn't have :( I'm on the rowing team now but I would rather do synchro esp since being my main thing was being flexible and it has no advantages in rowing lmaooo I've been a huge vocaloid fan since elementary school so I've been around in that community for a while (I am so well-adjusted). I like to make vocal synth covers and draw, especially when I'm able to work with producers to provide art for their vids it's so cool hehehehhe I mostly listen to vocaloid music but I like a lot of metal stuff as well that's how I found out abt gonst. I also like 2 play video gamez, I'm so fucking bad at them but I think it's rly funny so I just spend hours giggling and watching myself get mauled over and over.

I love horror a lot but I'm less a slasher girlie and more of a supernatural psychological tormet girlie esp if its got mythology or religions shit involved. Im majoring in history bc all good history ppl like silly metal and I wrote this instead of my abstract that's due in like an hour bc I have no idea what to do for the topic 🥲🥲

- the fuckin wizard

This post is part of the 1000 followers match up event. Entries for the event are now closed.

Your match is... Zephyr

They like listening to you talk about your major and interests. He's a very good listener.

While they might not be the best swimmer, they enjoy the activity and if you want to show off, they'll absolutely let you and be super proud.

He doesn't mind how unique your style is. He probably wouldn't really try to match clothes with you, but they'd try their best to buy you stuff you'd enjoy.

Since he doesn't really walk much, they picked up drawing and started doing it with you. They're surprisingly good at it for someone who just randomly said "I'm bored, maybe I should start drawing".

Also, horror movie date nights! They're also much more of a psychological horror person, but his favorite is of course the paranormal (he finds it hilarious) so you two take turns picking the movies.

Video game dates included, too. He's got a PS3 and the first three Uncharted games, as well as some others. Their favorite is Uncharted 3.

He'll insist you wear your glasses. He knows the consequences of ignoring his health. It's not fun.

~

Written by Nosferatu with the help of the wonderful and of @ask-zephyr-ghoul (ilysm pookie).

[96percentdone]

When looking at games with obvious metafiction elements in their stories, you always see this "deny and condemn the meta" response crop up. In Undertale/DeltaRune I think it's a relatively small scale phenomenon; most people over there are obsessed with the meta, if maybe in a way that's divorced from the text of games, but you still see people determined to wish it away? And it just got me thinking about why that is. What is it about metafiction that makes people so angry they want it gone?

I'm saving my analysis of Nirvana Initiative for the essay, but the backlash there has a lot in common with the response to NDRv3. New Dangan Ronpa v3 is a Dangan Ronpa title about Dangan Ronpa. In typical DR fashion, the meta-commentary is in your face, and at least half the fanbase fucking hates it. There is a loud contingent of DR fans who constantly complain about chapter 6, and how it ruined the entire series by making everything that came before it including the HPA saga unimportant and not real, and they try super hard to negate it, and when they can't, they just criticize the game even harder. That used to be me too! I used to be unbearable back then, but you can find old posts on this blog of me poking holes in it as an in universe plot element/mystery solution, or criticizing its inclusion of a mean-spirited audience depiction that reads like a criticism of the actual DR fanbase, or for wasting my time and telling me I shouldn't care.

But that last one is what I think lies at the heart of it. A lot of the criticisms of the meta for all the titles I mentioned boils down to this: people, or at least gamers, really chafe against metafiction because to them being reminded it's fiction is the same as being told 'it's not real so you should not care. I am wasting your time.' They get really attached to the characters, and the story--they get immersed in the world like it is as real as the PC they play it on, and then they are reminded that it's just a video game, and that hurts. It feels like getting trampled on. I know when I first played v3 I felt the same way.

I understand where this response comes from, but I have since grown up a little. I still believe that the execution of v3's meta needed revision, but the way I used to talk about it, and the way many of its detractors still do, is unearned. Kodaka is not a subtle writer about communicating his thesis. "Even if something is a lie, even if it's fiction.... If it has the power to change the world, then it must contain some kind of truth." It was just a story, with characters in a scripted plot constructed by writers and developers, but you cared about the illusion as though it were real life, right? You got attached to characters, invested in the plot, you cried or laughed or screamed--it spoke to you. "Was this lie able to change something? Was this lie able to change someone? If it was able to change even the smallest thing......Then the story isn't over." Fiction will always matter because it did something, however small, for wonderfully real you. All it evoked, every thought and feeling and comment and criticism, everything that story meant to you lives within your visceral beating heart.

All narratives are a humble wish that you leave changed if only in a tiny way. Metafiction is just a tool. It calls to you, makes you think about the work as fiction, so creators can speak directly to you about art. How do you engage with it? What are you getting when you do so? What is it about art that draws us in time and time again? I love metafiction because I love art. I love all the ways it provokes something in people; I think it's magical beyond compare. That's why I write! Art is a gift from the artist/s to their audience. What does that gift mean to you?

[disabledstraydogs]

Okay, got too silly last night and made a danganronpa AU 😔

Under the cut because it's not relevant to this blog.

TW for talks of murder (nothing in detail)

Okay so the theme of this school is the idea of transfer students, so there's 16 participants, some are from Yokohama (ADA and PM members) and the others are from differing groups in the BSD universe (ie Guild, DOA, ect).

I'm not sure about the order of who dies and who kills who ect ect I just think this is how it could happen:

Atsushi: Is the protag, probably survives

Akutagawa: Does not survive, I think he could be the victim in the final trial, probably saving Atsushi in the process.

Fyodor: Is the first to die (victim), I know logically he could be the antagonist or mastermind but I think it would be funny if he got the Rantaro treatment (works out who the mastermind is and is killed by someone before he can share- although I think he's just being a bitch that wanted to haunt the narrative)

Chuuya: Victim. I know he would be fully capable as a killer, but I also think he would be too obvious. I mean let's face it- His natural reaction is to lash out at people in a regular situation. In a killing game it would get so much WORSE so idk having him act on his anger would be too obvious of a plot point (he 100% gets blamed for at least one murder before he dies though). Although personal bias wants him to live.... Idk.

Kyouka: Survivor, fuck you she lives no matter what

Gin: Victim, or survivor. Not sure what to say here ngl

Akiko: Killer, she could easily pull a stunt like Mikan did in sdr2 and I love the trope of doctors that kill

Shibusawa: Killer, I don't think he's the mastermind, but I think he could be an accomplice (a bit like Mukuro) who killed someone (Fyodor) for getting too close to the truth

Dazai: The antagonist, I have no idea what he'd be in the grand scheme of things. It would be funny if he survived, it would also be fitting for him to die. He has a habit of trying to commit 'unknowing mass suicide' with the group (aka getting them to vote the wrong way) even if this means he dies. Komaeda ass mf.

Kunikida: Killer, please let me break this man so hard he can't see any other way out ......... UNLESS HE'S THE MASTERMI- *gets shot*

Kouyou: Unsure.... Survivor maybe? Plays a role like Himiko in the sense that the person (Akiko) she had a crush on dies- Although in this case Akiko is a killer so Kouyou has to come to terms with this

Lucy: Victim, sorry lads I have to kill her :(

Fitzgerald: Victim, he's an insufferable asshole (like Byakua) but I'm taking danganronpa's mistake (letting him live) and fixing it... Although I think he would be slightly more tolerable.

Nikolai: I want to say killer but at the same time that feel obvious... So survivor? He was majorly impacted by Fyodor and Sigma's deaths but promises to carry their memory with him

Sigma: Killer. Look, I know this is probably a controversial take but Sigma's main goal in BSD is himself, and I think the same would happen in a DR au. However I don't think he'd kill unless put under threat.

Tachihara: Killer (probably), this man is like Leon in my eyes. But idk maybe that's too obvious?

(Also idk if the numbers add up here, it all depends on plot stuff- which I haven't worked out)

[crmsnmth]

September Chapter Six, Part 2

"I'm scared," I said, almost in a whisper, "I'm afraid it's going to hurt."

"I know you are. Your going silent, like you did in our first few sessions. Do you remember that?"

I nodded. I did remember those sessions. They were awful. Dr. Fischer would try every possible way in the books to get me to talk, but our hour long sessions were usually filled mostly with silence. And I was seeing her twice a week at the start. I didn't like her at first. She was too forward, too demanding. But it's what I needed and after a month of silence, I finally broke and started talking.

"You barely spoke. You withdrew inside yourself for our entire sessions."

"I know. I didn't like you. I didn't trust you."

"And now?"

"I mean, I trust you enough. I'm not sure if I like you, but I know your doing your job and looking for what's best for my head."

"So we'll call this an understanding then. You're very right. I am looking out for you, and I want the best for you. You've been through a lot, and I think I'm seeing you step out of that shell and finally grow. And what is growing?"

"Healthy," I sighed.

"Correct. So now, you've met someone who seems to have taking quite the shining to you, and you to her," she wrote on her pad as she spoke. Long flowing letters, at least by the way her pen moved.

"Yeah," I admitted. I couldn't run from the truth, no matter how fast I ran. I'd learned that years ago.

"And she's cracking through that shell. Getting to meet the person you try so hard to keep barricaded away."

I nodded.

"You're letting her in, Chris."

I looked away.

"That's a really good thing. It's growth and it's wonderful to see. Of course you're afraid. Everyone's afraid of change. It's not easy. It's not meant to be. Growth isn't easy, but it's healthy. You've made a new friend, whom you are opening up to, without trying. You must admit, it might be nice to gain another close friend other than Chad."

I laughed. "What if I don't want her just to be my close friend?" Chad and I had been friends for many years, even before the Emily show. He'd earned his trust for being my best friend, never once breaking my trust and always being there when I needed help. He never held me down or pulled me back. The guy never failed me. I loved him.

I didn't just want a close friendship with Addison. I knew that from the moment I ran into her and found myself in awe. Even now, at the very beginning of whatever relationship we were going to have, I knew exactly what I wanted with her. And it was shredding the beliefs I'd build and nurtured for three years.

"It's still confusing and fucking scary," I finally said, breaking the short silence.

"I know it is. That's a good thing for you. You've had yourself locked up in this protective state for too long. You can't live you're life on your own."

"I would've called you a liar a month ago," I snapped.

She laughed and wrote. "I know you would have. But am I?"

I sat back in my uncomfortable chair and looked around the office. For anything that would steal my attention so I wouldn't have to tell her she was right. I didn't want to admit it, but it was the truth.

"No," I said, almost whining the word. I hated the admission. So much.

"See, we are making progress. Well, you are. It's nice to see. It's nice to see the actual person in side getting out finally," she smiled at me, "how have you been sleeping lately?"

I signed in relief that she had changed the topic.

[fentanylfairy111]

A Little Of My Story:

Not expecting anyone to see this but I feel like getting this all of my chest to nothing will somehow help me. I've been struggling with my drug addiction since I was 14,, I am now 21. Yes, I know it's not that long of a stretch but fuck dude..it's been so fucking rough.

16yrs old I was sent to my first rehab. I was taught how to do hard drugs. At that point I was just eating Xanax and snorting yayo up my nose and smoking wayyy too much. Ended up getting abused by a guy who I met there.

After that experience I fell even harder into my addiction. I was no longer who I thought I was. Got laced with PCP and went into psychosis. Didn't think it could get worse than that. My old best friend came over to celebrate my birthday and she didn't bring the H so we decided to get Blues. No surprise here but big fucking mistake.

She ended up OD and my mama had to revieve her. I still had some of the pressies left so to deal with witnessing that I thought it would be a good idea to snort the fent pressed pills. Instantly I fell in love with the sensation I received from the high. I was already shooting dope occasionally, doing ketamine, acid, Vicodin and oxys.

At age 17yrs old thing got even worse. I hit up my yayo dealer because my friend and I wanted to try scante. Once again BIG fucking mistake. We smoked the pookie first then the needles came out. Got hooked immediately...

Next time we saw him he told me to try smoking something off of foil. He told me it was H,, it was pure fent powder. Ofc I didn't know this at the time but me being the dumbass that I am took a hit off the foil.

I had been doing blues but fuck powder...that's a whole ass different story. I fell out. literally. I fell outta the car and threw up down myself and they shot me up with crystal and I came to. Crazy how insane that shit sounds...crystal bringing me back. What's even more insane about that is that wasn't the last time that happened. That was my first OD..there have been too many other times to count since then.

I'd be writing a whole ass novel if I went into everything but to summarize...since 17 there was a needle in my arm, hands, muscles until age 19/20 when I just went back to the foil and pookie.

H no longer exists. It's all fent. Everything. Nothing is clean anymore.

March 24th is going to be the 3yr anniversary of my best friends OD death date. This will be my first year sober for it and i'm losing my fucking mind. I keep having breakdowns but idk I just can't seem to even cry anymore. My Dr says i'm like a Navy Seal because no matter what is going on..I don't show emotion. I am numb. He also thinks I have psychopathic tendencies because of my 'destructive behavior.'

I feel like I'm losing my mind and can't talk to anyone about it. Please someone talk to me. IDC what it's about,, I just need people who can relate or just to idk fucking talk to instead of being in my head 24/7.

[rewcana]

it's the 2 yr anniversary of me getting hit with the corner of a 43lb box containing an AC unit. it scraped against my back over my left shoulder blade. i am currently disabled by that injury, 2 years later. it's a different form of that injury but it is a result of it. i've not gotten any medical treatment because it's a work injury and my employer won't take responsibility for it. im in the middle of a months long lawsuit trying to get compensation and treatment. ive been disabled for 9 months. i healed okay from the initial injury but during heavy lifting activities or anything involving my shoulder it would aggravate the injury. then i got another heavy lifting job and the injury was severely aggravated again after not bothering me for months. i decided to go through workers comp and the dr told me to work and continuing to work through immense pain (i informed the dr how severe the pain was) aggravated the injury SO MUCH that it has stayed with me this long. previous aggravations of the injury would heal within a week but because i was forced to work because my doctor restrictions held more weight than my present experience, now i have a severe physical disability and chronic pain.

i have relived the injury so many times, re-experiencing the physical trauma. and the emotional trauma from having to justify and defend my pain to my managers, health care professionals, fucking insurance agents. my insurance bitch wouldn't listen to me when i wanted to go back to the doctors so they could change my work restrictions because lifting 15 lbs was incredibly painful for me, i could barely move my arm without severe throbbing pain. she wouldn't shut up about the process and only listened when i was having a full on melt down in my car outside of the clinic. fully sobbing and screaming in my car because no one is taking my pain seriously. she finally approved it and insisted that it "wouldn't matter" bc all she cares about is the case and if the company will be held liable. but getting more severe work restrictions saved me from extreme pain.

then i had another full on sobbing melt down in front of my supervisor and manager which is an autistic person's worst nightmare. this one was because i was put into work that i was pressured into agreeing to that technically didn't fit into my dr restrictions and i was in severe pain still. i told my supervisor that my injury was really painful today so i would be icing it. he said that was fine and that i could do so for as long as i need. i did that and then he confronted me and said i was doing so for too long. i rushed away and burst into tears and sobbed in the bathroom because my pain was so extreme and i was so frustrated with people not being clear and feeling like no one was considering my pain. masking pain is such a traumatic and prevelant narrative in my autistic ass life. but this insane physical pain was just too difficult and i felt so weak and pathetic and i was sobbing for like over an hour while trying to talk through this with my manager and the supervisor. the supervisor was taking it personally but i just keep saying that it's because i'm in so much pain. my manager was actually quite sweet and understanding about it because she had been through an incredibly painful injury as well.

pain is really like... if you haven't experienced it to a certain degree, it's just conceptual to you. you really can't understand it unless you've felt its horror.

anyway being autistic and injured in a workplace sucks. it also fucking sucks being disabled with a special sting that it's a work injury that is legally complicated so the lawsuit is taking forever and who knows if i'll ever see the end of it. i really hope i will. these are free lawyers so they kinda don't care but they do but it takes time i guess. gods. i just fucking hate capitalism so goddamn much.

i regret so hard not suing when i first was injured but my social anxiety and avoidance behavior kept me from it. if i had known how much it would have fucked me over in the long run i would have. not to mention the mountains of trauma i went through at that workplace. gods no wonder i've been unemployed for so long (well besides the disability that makes most work i qualify for impossible) i have so much goddamn work trauma. fuck.

i miss the good ole days of dining hall work. i didnt get paid much and didnt really talk to anyone but at least i wasn't experiencing the horrors.

on a brighter note the severity of the pain and disability is much less. i can cook, clean, carry some things, shower, get dressed, use the toilet, etc. with minor pain. i still feel severe pains after periods of lots of activity (lots of cleaning, moving around, cooking, driving, etc) and i can't carry heavy things with my left arm or extend it far for long. there is lots i can't do but i hope to do. maybe on the 3rd anniversary of the injury, i will have justice. i will be actively getting treatment. i hope this will be true. im glad that at least i finally did sue. i'm taking steps tho the journey is slow due to extreme avoidant behaviors (due to extreme burnout). day by day by day by day.

[medicinemane]

I get very tired of dealing with people who are so busy being "practical" that they're just totally prescriptive

I tend to be, I think, a fairly pragmatic person. Like most years I spend about... maybe $50 on myself for the whole year (this year is going to be a bit higher, but there's also specific utility to what I'm spending it on). I tend to not bother buying myself snacks, cause I know I'm mostly hungry, and if I'm hungry real food is a better deal (I sadly tend to fail to get ahold of the real food either)

My point is that I tend to be very goal oriented (not in a ladder climbing way, in a I set goals and then work towards them kinda way), I tend to be very focused on what will push my situations into being sustainable, I tend to look for high efficiency, low cost, long term solutions

I was... I was talking to that friend I'll say is Dr Jekyll and Mr Dumbass (I was more trying to talk to my dad, but they were both there). It was definitely Mr Dumbass today

For one thing, he was already saying a bunch of really fucking dumb shit where... it's so stupid I'm not even going to repeat it, where it's like the answer for why we don't do that is because it's obviously a moronically stupid idea on top of being immoral, and also totally ineffective you dipshit

So I already wasn't in the mood for him

Then, while talking about visiting my grandma, I mention how in order to start cooking I need sharp knives, none of my knives are sharp (cause my mom's a fool and dulls them all), and how it would really help if I could just take a knife from my grandma since she doesn't cook anymore and just... keep it as my personal knife that I keep sharp

(I can't do this, cause my grandma is... bug fuck crazy, and legit believes that if you gift someone a knife they'll kill people with it which like... where do you even get that idea, like she has literally said before that she'd give money to buy a knife but wouldn't give one as a gift... what?)

Anyway, Mr Dumbass starts going on about how I can just buy a new knife, and it's like no... in your quest for objective practicality you've lost all pragmatism

I don't need to buy a new knife, I need to learn to sharpen knives which... which I just have a bit of a block on cause I've had trouble figuring out how to sharpen stuff so far (I've come to suspect that which of the hard and soft stones you use first and second isn't intuitive and I've been trying to hone with the sharpening stone and sharpen with the honing stone)

Like... to get mean for just a slight moment, shut your fool mouth, you've got more money than I've ever even touched, and while you were poor at one point when you were younger you've clearly forgot, and not everyone can just buy stuff

Also you're saying a bunch of dumb shit tonight with such confidence and it's pissed me off

He's capable of being a very very smart and compassionate person, and then other times he's a damn fool, and far too often he... he talks about practicality without actually understanding how to be practical

Being practical requires working in the confines of reality

...I don't know, I don't think I have all the words I need to explain what I'm saying, but the point is he's annoyed me and people who act like him annoy me where it's like... nothing matters in the end other than if you actually solve something

You can talk all day about what someone "should do", but what matters is what they will do

So it gets frustrating talking with my family with him cause he has all this ideas where it's like... that functionally won't work, and like some of his great ideas are how I can just wait for my grandma to die and get the knife then and it's like... yeah... but I need a knife now dummy, and I have knives, and which is more useful?

Dropping a pretty penny on a new knife, or finishing learning a skill I really fucking need badly and that makes it so I can sharpen things for next to free forever?

...I'm just tired of having to do everything myself and getting no help, that's all. How about you shut your fucking mouth, stop trying to offer advice that's worse than my plans I'm already slowly turning the gears on making happen, and just let me bitch about my idiot relatives?

Laughing at this fool antics when he chooses to do that, legitimately is more helpful than any attempts to help

[emocafe247]

I assume that you don't very easily relate to other people or consider things from their point of view. Rather, if someone says that they disagree with you about something or that something you said makes them uncomfortable (like comments about sex or shipping or gore), your instinct is to tell them to fuck off. You also have a little bit of main character syndrome as you always feel the need to comment on everything to make it about you and tell how you feel about the matter, and you prefer talking to listening. You have very strong opinions and tend to always think you are right and have the correct facts, even when you don't. I assume you are not big on self-reflection and tend to blame others every time a conflict happens. Most likely you are going to tell me to fuck off as well.

First of all, a trigger warning to you anon, because you clearly don't like when I talk about myself, but you sent a detailed message with assumptions about me, so it's just a response to it:

I tell to fuck off (tbh I probably should tell you that, because that last sentence is a guilt tripping attempt, not a very healthy way to communicate) to someone who either doesn't tell me directly what's up (I don't know how to deal with vague messages, they seem dishonest to me), or when I feel it might be disguised prejudice (there are certain kinds of ideologies that give red flags and if I feel like someone might support one of them, I'm rude on purpose, because such things don't deserve any debate on my side, so I'm unwilling to discuss that, I already see enough prejudiced comments in my country's local politics and minority stress already affects me enough... so I don't want to deal with similar kind of thought patterns, because I know some people can't be reasoned with no matter how hard you try and I'm tired of having debates with people who have bigoted views... if you don't know what I'm talking about, double check which country I'm from). tl;dr - if I suspect someone might be an anti/homophobe/purist I don't want to have a discussion, because local politics already makes me feel like crap, I don't need more of that in fandom spaces

As for making people uncomfortable, it's only easy to make everyone happy if someone either likes only "safe" things, or when they're having a private conversation and that person in particular wants to avoid something (and they communicate it, because no one can read minds). Otherwise, someone at some point will always dislike something and it's not possible to please everyone. Even when I try to be nice and accommodating, I accidentally say something that offends another person. Believe me, I've tried to work on it and I used to be even worse than I currently am. I just struggle with social cues a lot and I'm desensitized to most things. Sometimes an innocent comment in my mind is a big deal to someone else and I don't understand it. But people are just very different from each other and communication goes in two ways. If only one side communicates, it's never going to function well. tl;dr - in places with too many different people your stuff will always bother someone and it's hard to tell what it might be, I also don't understand social cues

So about my feelings... yeah, I know what's going on in my head and only that. Making serious assumptions about other people is very invasive and I expect the other person will fill that empty slot instead of assuming I'll read their mind. That's because I only know what I think, I can only speak for myself. So yes, I do talk a lot about my feelings, but not for the reason you assumed about me. I just think it's not nice to decide for other person who they are, what they're like, and I honestly have no idea what people think until they tell me, because my perception of them will always be distorted by my own thought patterns. So my expectation is clear communication, I don't understand non-verbal cues and vague messages. If we've ever had a problem like that, perhaps you need to re-think your communication methods? tl;dr - making serious assumptions is rude in my opinion, so I expect the other person to share their mindset and feelings with me instead of expecting I'd guess, and that's why I explain what's in my head

I do talk a lot on here, yes. That's because in the real life I hardly talk to my family and I just want to socialize, even if it's just dumping my thoughts and emotions. In the real life I'm not always allowed to express them, so I don't know how to do it in a healthy way. Perhaps it's sometimes excessive. Emotional dysregulation is an issue that I don't know how to handle it. It's not fun when regular activities (music, fandoms, etc) don't help. tl;dr - tumblr is often my only way to socialize, so I talk here a lot

Main character syndrome - it's not even an insult, because I always say it about myself. Though don't get me wrong, I'm not arrogant, I just get excited easily, need to chat, and I think my comments are funny and enjoyable. If something clearly is a joke, I just want to be entertaining and I think it makes people happy! (and it often does, my humor is not for everyone though, I know it)

Do I think I always have the correct facts? No. Quite the opposite, I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't always want to discuss something, though. Depends on my mood. When it's bad it really is better to just leave me be until I'm better. But really, everything me or you think is distorted by our own thought patterns. No one ever knows all the facts and there's always more than one truth.

Also, I already blame myself too much for everything. So outside it might seem like I blame others. I used to be that kind of a person who always apologized, for everything. I'm trying to be different, to stop feeling guilty every damn time. I constantly say something, then delete it because I get anxious.

In general, your assumptions only scratched the surface. I don't think you know me well, I'm more complex than this. I do struggle with handling many situations, that's true. But that's not on purpose, I just don't know what the fuck I'm doing 😅. I also forget things 0,5 second later. My attention span is non-existent unless I'm emotional/passionate about something.

I'll end it with good old guilt tripping as a payback for yours: but you don't really care, do you? After all, there's always more than one truth.