#but the change to make it self inflicted

[arolesbianism]

I am once again being haunted by "a paradox" holy fuck Olivia what the fuck is going on here what did you get yourself involved with and what did you do after it speak to me Olivia I can't keep living like this

[kopibihun]

THE SILLIES

[edge-oftheworld]

by whitewashing, I mean taking away his culture and the fact that he’s half Māori by essentially treating him as a white person and never mentioning otherwise, including never mentioning the way he might experience things differently due to his background, and the impact of being of a colonised Indigenous people in a white-dominated industry.

personally, I would also consider only ever referring to his skin as ‘tan’ in a way that deliberately avoids saying something like ‘light brown’ to be whitewashing but that’s a tricky one, because it can be a genuine assessment of a skin tone that’s accurate to his colouring—it’s more of the intention behind it, saying things in white person terms out of fear that using more accurate words is offensive, which is always hard to judge.

and I know it’s hard and a skill to be inclusive in a way that doesn’t draw up divides between people of colour and people experiencing white privilege, whilst not ignoring the fact that everyone isn’t the same nor fits into a white-normalised vocabulary. this is in no way villainising anyone who hasn’t checked their white privilege or the way that language comes across, but is intended to start a respectful conversation and hopefully result in the fandom being more intentional about recognising the impact of race.

[57sfinest]

actually i do want to make this a post. it’s so interesting to think about harry from other people’s perspectives, especially if they’re people who were around him before martinaise. because the thing about harry is: he’s a spectacle. there is not a single person left to him who genuinely *cares*. but there are people who take an interest for interest’s sake. harry is the car crash that people can’t look away from, and it’s such a rich lens to view him through.

let’s exclude jean, judit and trant because there’s already enough you can say about them as the sole remaining members of the major crimes unit. think of the other officers who worked at the 41st. whether they worked in c-wing with him or not, they were exposed to him. they had to be around him in some capacity. as a lieutenant, he was “responsible” (i use that term loosely) for overseeing a number of subordinates under the rank system. 

like put yourself in the shoes of a patrol officer at the 41st. you know harry as, in a word, unstable. a deeply unreliable man of extremes with alarmingly few personal attachments to keep him in check. he’s also practically untouchable as long as he keeps getting results, which he does, at a cost. so there’s never any point in formally complaining about him- he’s never going to be corrected or fired, so you just do one of the following: 1) keep your mouth shut (if you’re polite or playing it safe), 2) only bitch about him out of earshot (if you’ve got something to say but you’re nonconfrontational), 3) start shit with him but in a “playful” way that is secretly sincere (if you’re ballsy/have known him long enough), 4) or start shit with him for real (if you’re jean, or have a death wish). 

and the thing about the last two of those options- *especially the 3rd, which seems to be the favorite of his fellow C-wingers*- you have to know him VERY WELL to pull it off without ostensibly getting your nose broken (or worse). you have to know his moods and his triggers and what exact cocktail of bullshit he’s displaying that day so you know where the line is for this particular shift. whoever figures it out first passes it along to everyone else- hey, you can fuck with him about dating today, but don’t bring up the drinking or last week’s case or he’ll go ballistic. and it’s just like... he’s a specimen. you may not know him on a personal heart-to-heart level, but you know him the way a zookeeper knows their tigers, or the way the falconer knows their hawk. you know when to feed and when to back away with your arms up. it doesn’t make things better, but it stops them getting worse. (for you, anyway).

then martinaise happens and if he comes back- his instability is still there, but it’s not the same. you don’t recognize the way he’s acting. maybe some things are not as bad as before, but all of it is different and it’s impossible to get a read on it. you have no idea how to approach him now, or if you should approach him at all. there’s a new layer to his unreliability and it’s somehow even scarier than before. there’s a tiny tiny calm in his storm, finally, and you don’t know when it’s going to break or what’s going to break it. you hear he’s finally actually kicking the booze and maybe you just scoff and move on, or maybe you let yourself root for him. really it all depends on how long you’ve known him, how many times you’ve seen him *try*. how sympathetic you are to his conditions and how patient of a person you are. how many times he’s hurt you (because that number is rarely going to be zero). no matter what, you’re going to be left wondering. you don’t know how much of him is gone. you don’t know how much is going to come back. you’re not sure how much of each you *want*.

[pine-arten]

i’ve put this project on hold (because i’m going to design them all first) but i figured i might as well post another teaser

arti and hunter are nearly done (they need eyeshading and line color, and i need to shade hunter’s rot blobs) and everyone else has very basic shading (so i can remember what i planned)

unfortunately i’m probably going to redraw some / edit most of them since i’m actually making designs (it is a bad idea to wing designs for something like this). arti might get some pattern/color change but she and hunter won’t change that much

[cheswirls]

hhhhhhhhhhhh saboace royalty au. ace was crown prince but can’t use magic which is necessary to become king, so he renounces his title and becomes infamous for his eccentric tendencies to play up the illusion that he’s truly not meant for the throne and that his younger sibling has full rights to the title of heir.

sabo is born to a family serving in the royal court, has been a genius magician since he was a child, and is the perfect example of a young man fully educated to serve at the king’s side. which is why he’s allowed himself to be tied down into a loveless political engagement with the king’s heir, putting the whims of his family before his own and resigning himself to become the future ruler’s consort/spouse to legitimize his role as an advisory right-hand man.

but then the heir grows rebellious and denounces the engagement with sabo in public and ace swoops in to save the day (and sabo’s reputation), demanding his father give sabo to him instead. he steals sabo away and challenges his sibling’s right to the throne, intent on earning back the title not for himself, but so he can make sabo (who is heavily qualified to rule) the king - and since they’ll be wed, no one will be able to undermine sabo’s position as he will technically be part of the monarchy that governs the kingdom.

[lacunasbalustrade]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Cardfight!! Vanguard Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tatsunagi Nome & Tatsunagi Takuto, Tatsunagi Kourin & Tatsunagi Rekka & Tatsunagi Suiko Characters: Tatsunagi Kourin, Tatsunagi Takuto, Tatsunagi Suiko, Tatsunagi Rekka, Tatsunagi Nome Additional Tags: Extended Metaphors, Temporary Amnesia, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Families of Choice, Team as Family, well technically they're a team but also literally since ultra rare yknow, Saviour Complex, Inhuman Character Experiences Humanly Guilt, Guilt, mental isolation, Permission, you have my permission to take your passport and run far away, faster, from everything that eats you alive. Summary:

ongoing fic. tb updated once per week if possible.

what is it like to be a tatsunagi and what does it teach you about reaching out to the world? what are the requirements to be a saviour? is there a reason we have to rule out choosing each other over everything? i hate that overnight, you flip a switch and you're a different person. i hate how you're forced to compartmentalize what you are to me. if only you could say whatever you want to me, you know we might end up differently.

@neverending-symphonia

[brotherslayer]

there's the potential for a dark AU where hurt and comfort have become so intrinsically linked in his mind that if a succession war between Medraut and Lleu took place where Lleu would come out as the winner and had him imprisoned, he would antagonize Medraut until he lashed out at him. Lleu would force Medraut to hurt him, because he's gotten addicted to the way his brother gave him pain and the bittersweet reconcilation that followed afterwards when the feelings of guilt arise. If Medraut can only love Lleu when he is hurt and hurts [hates] Lleu when he is loved, then the obvious solution is that Lleu has to be hurt all the time thus can he be loved eternally.

[cherryblossomshadow]

Not to be controversial, but if the only interesting thing in the book(movie/TV show etc.) is the plot twists, and the book(movie/TV show etc.) is ruined by knowing what happens, the book(movie/TV show etc.) is probably not that great to begin with. (comment courtesy of @black-rose-writings)

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If you don't re-read books then how can you experience the joy of going "oh fuck" as you find every bit of foreshadowing, every dropped hint? How can you appreciate the work that went into setting up the big reveal if you don't view it all over again with foreknowledge? My favourite books are the ones better on the re-read. Plus like, sometimes I just enjoy a story, knowing the ending doesn't stop me enjoying the build up. And even if it's not that special joy of finding something in the first ten pages that sets up the ending, like, knowing what's going to happen can actually make it more exciting. (comment courtesy of @hedge-rambles)

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Also sometimes you need the comfort of knowing what happens, the familiarity is the point. Or perhaps the first read meant that you retained the basic story but the re-read gave you insights that you just couldn't have had the first time. Or the book hasn't changed but you have and your take away from it is something so profoundly different that you can't believe you didn't see it before, but how could you without the context of your experiences? I love re-reading books. (comment courtesy of @bumblebeesofttoy)

I am a much different person that I was just, what, five years ago? So yeah, revisiting media and seeing how my interaction with it has changed is really fun. Something something viewing the self through the interaction with something else

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YOU know what happens. I’VE already forgotten as soon as i close the book (comment courtesy of @wolphinmaybe)

relatable. mind like a sieve

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me rereading that one fanfic that literally made me want to keep living lol (comment courtesy of @mylabyrinthworld)

I love rereading fanfic, and it feels extra special to reread the fics that have impacted my life or my self-perception in a major way

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I feel exactly the same! My favorite thing to do is to pick one of my favorite characters and then re-read a bunch of the canon and a bunch of fanfiction. I especially like re-reading the canon out of order, so it's like I'm time traveling through canon with my favorite character! .... is that just me? ... I also enjoy re-reading my own fanfiction. Especially if it's something I wrote, say, ten years ago. It feels like time travel. (comment courtesy of @andtheny)

I also think its really fun to read my own fanfiction! Like, wow, I sure said a thing back then

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#I cannot reread or rewatch anything unless I have someone with me to share the experience with. I just can't do it otherwise, I get annoyed, my brain really doesn't like it, no matter how much I like a book it just always gets annoyed, so usually I have to forget first as no one I know would like to be read to. (comment courtesy of @sleet-cat)

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i personally can't reread a book until I've sufficiently forgotten the details of the plot. if I know exactly what happens next, I'll never finish the book because I'm bored while reading it. I don't know if this is normal but when I'm bored, I don't push through, I avoid the source of boredom by finding something more entertaining to fill my time. for example, if I'm bored in class, I'll end up shutting down and losing more instruction because my attention must be kept without losing it or I can't restart paying attention. (comment courtesy of @calechipconecrimes)

Relatable. For better or for worse, tho, my memory is substantially worse than it used to be so, uh, that's no longer a high bar to clear 😅

People who don't re-read books are so funny to me. "I know what happens"..?? Gurl I know what pizza tastes like, still gonna eat another one. I know what a rainbow looks like, you think that'll stop me running outside, camera in hand, to see the next one?

[phagodyke]

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[cuteniarose]

It’s almost 6 a.m and I can’t sleep because I’m being plagued by thoughts of The Latest OC

[deadaisies]

tags.

[minutes1a]

𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲

[burnshope]

joey tag drop.

[valentinedagger]

when i was a child, once it had become obvious that spanking was considered gauche and extreme among their early-2000s drum-circle-attending hippie friends, my parents moved to a new default punishment: standing in the corner.

it was very simple. when told, i was to stand facing the corner, not moving, until i was told i could stop. in retrospect, the standard seemed to be to leave me until i had entirely stopped crying, then to start counting down some short, arbitrary block of time (maybe 5, 10 minutes) once i was silent and still. at the time, i didn't know this; the corner was a limbo state, it was a place i was suspended indefinitely til my parents considered me appropriate to deal with once again.

i wasn't to fidget, to sit down, make noises, sing or talk to myself. theoretically, i was supposed to "reflect on what i did wrong," although that never happened. i was, what, five? six?

frequently, i would get a cold, nauseating sensation that crept its way up my back. i would feel stiff and tense, the muscles in my neck and shoulders growing rigid, goosebumps prickling. i would feel as though i was being watched. i would sneak a peak over my shoulder at those times; when i saw i was alone, i would shift and stand on one foot for a bit, then the other, in order to take the weight off the other and ease some of my aches. sometimes i would start whispering to an imaginary friend, or lean against the wall. anything i knew i was not allowed to do, that i could immediately stop when i heard one of my parents approaching.

one specific time, i got that sensation. the creeping dread, the deep bonesickness of feeling watched. i snuck a peek over my shoulder.

my father had crept into my room, and was watching me silently.

"face the corner," he said.

i did.

almost as an afterthought, he told me i had earned myself more time.

the horror this evokes in me can't be described; it's a sheer, yawning precipice of paranoia, buttressed by the casual, uncaring authority of a parent-god, the architect of the childhood panopticon so utterly foreign, so removed from your world, that they not only do not, but cannot comprehend the pain and fear they're inflicting on you. my feet hurt. my legs hurt. my back ached. i was itchy and damp, utterly helpless, bound by rules i didn't understand and at the mercy of beings whose feelings and responses were utterly unpredictable and incomprehensible.

my father wanted to go play a video game.

i write a lot of horror that i don't think most people would automatically classify as "horror." most of it is an attempt to capture this feeling: the shaky, racing terror of survival without knowing the rules, the stakes, even the consequences. the understanding that anything could be a wrong move, that self-preservation can be punished. or it can be rewarded. or it can go entirely ignored. i want to capture that nauseating, paranoid dread and bottle it. every room is an escape room, the win conditions are up to the gamemaster, and he will change them. he always changes them.

maybe he's watching. maybe he went to the bathroom. maybe he forgot about you. you could always try looking over your shoulder to see.

[ilsanslut]

꒷♡꒷ GAME OVER!

♰ synopsis: in which you seek attention from your boyfriend and end up paying the price. content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut. gn!reader. full-nelson. rough sex. tummy bulging. creampie. angry(?)!nagi. minor degradation. cursing. ꒷꒦

“Stop it, Y/N.”

Seishiro warned you without looking up from his phone screen for a moment, his fingers still dancing across the glass with expert skill. You were lying beside him on the couch, your bare foot on his bicep, gently nudging him to throw him off his game. You couldn’t help yourself. You wanted his attention, but instead, he chose to play some dumb mobile game. So, you decided to take it upon yourself to get his attention—by lightly kicking him until he paid attention to you.

“Y/N.” His typically soft tone grew a bit of a firm edge, with the slightest hint of frustration making itself known to you.

You giggled to yourself, partially in amusement and partially in incredulity, as you were surprised to hear the slightest infliction of irritation in your typically lax and impassive boyfriend, who, in his own words, “doesn’t get angry because it’s bothersome feeling negative”. Was that about to change? Were you finally about to make Seishiro angry?

There was only one way to find out, right?

You gave him a few moments of reprieve, allowing him to get sucked back into his game and forget about your little mischievous self, despite your antsy toes wiggling against his deltoid giving you away. It appeared to be working because Seishiro's eyes were wide and unblinking as they became laser-focused on his screen, even drawing the device closer to his face just as his tapping became near manic when you suddenly jolted your foot forth and even managed to push Seishiro aside for a second.

“Y/N!—”

GAME OVER, YOU LOSE!

You were so shocked that you could not even contain your laughter. You cackled maniacally as you were holding your stomach at the fact that Seishiro lost, moreover became frustrated with you.

“Haha, I can’t believe it! See, Sei? This is what happens when you chose to ignore me~.”

Though you quickly stopped laughing when your boyfriend's piercing gray eyes locked with yours, his stare was owlish and unwavering, boring fiercely into your own. What made matters worse was that he did not even look angry, but you could feel it radiating off of him in harsh waves that nearly suffocated you and immobilized you where you lay. Your breath caught in your throat as dread suddenly chilled your veins, your mouth gaping as you tried to think of something else to say in your defense, but it was futile.

“So that’s what that was, huh?” His tone was chilling, effectively silencing any rebuttal you could’ve thought to muster up. His head cocked to one side, fluffy bangs shadowing his unblinking eyes as they continued to pierce into your own.

“You just wanted . . . my attention?”

“M’sorry, m’sorry, Sei~! P-please, I can’t! I won’t do it again, I pr-promise—!”

Seishiro had ripped through your underwear, thrown you on top of him, and folded you in a full-nelson to fuck you silly before you could blink. You were choking on your own words as your boyfriend’s cock pistoned in and out of you at a furious pace, leaving you breathless with every unrelenting thrust, each one more vigorous than the last. You could feel him hitting the deepest parts within you, battering your inner walls, and pumping every last bit of his frustration with you into your tight hole.

“But isn’t this what you wanted, Y/N?” He muttered into your ear from behind you. The crazy bastard didn’t even sound breathless as he fucked you within an inch of your life. “You wanted my attention, didn’t you? Wanted to make me angry? Make me lose my game, hm? You wanted this, didn’t you?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, both in ecstasy and vexation, your jaw lulling open as you babbled incoherent curses through your drooling brims. The pleasure was so great, you felt so full, you could hardly think, let alone form a proper sentence! Not to mention, in this nigh-pornographic position, you were gifted the sight of not only your striker boyfriend pounding you senseless but also the prominent indent that appeared on your belly from every time his stupidly big cock reached the deepest depths within you.

Not caring for a response from you, Seishiro let out a series of soft, muffled grunts from his lips as his cock throbbed within you. “Since this is what you wanted, you should be able to take it, no?”

“B-But Sei! Your too—mpfh! Y-You’re too damn b—”

“—What? Big? You cry about that all the time, Y/N, and yet you take my cock like the pretty slut you are every time without fail.” You could practically hear the eyeroll in his voice as he spoke, pausing his thrusts for merely a second as he adjusted his grip on you, attempting to pry you open further as though you weren’t already splayed out above him. Interlocking his fingers behind your head and pushing himself firmly onto his heels, he basically growled into your ear, “So do me a favor and shut up and take it.”

Without warning, he used his newfound leverage to pound into you with enough force to make your vision go white and your toes curl in the air as he pummeled directly into your sweet spot, eliciting a series of pleasured shrieks and breathless mewls from your drooling lips. You’d be sure to apologize to your neighbors later.

“Ah, there it is. Y’gonna cum f’me?*” He grunted, his breath hot against your ear, as his cock twitched inside of you.

“Oh my god, y-yes! Sei, yes, yes, yes!” You squealed as the knot in your belly tightened.

“Hmmfh, then go on, pretty. Make a mess f’me.”

Before you knew it, you did exactly that, coming undone as you made a mess atop your sweaty and partially clothed bodies. Simultaneously, Seishiro let go inside of you, both of you breathlessly moaning in unison. Your back arched off of his chest as you felt thick, hot ropes of steamy, milky cum shoot into your depths and bloat you full of his seed. It was heavy, too, a result of Nagi not jacking off often, as he found the action to be ‘too much of a hassle when I have you’.

His grip slowly released on you, gently setting your tired and quivering legs down to rest as he lay beneath you, equally exhausted. Even as he did so, his cum still languidly pumped ropes of cum into your abused hole as it slid out of you, making a mess of the poor cushions beneath you two. You would never be able to hold it all, but as you both descended from your highs, neither of you seemed to mind.

Before you could relish in your serenity, you felt a sharp swat on your thigh from your boyfriend beneath you, who now held a small pout on his lips. “Next time you want my attention, just ask. I was about to beat my high score.”

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes playfully as you gazed lazily up at the ceiling. Oh right, that’s what started this mess, huh?

“Mmm, I dunno, Sei.” You drawled, your voice laced with mischief. “If you’re going to fuck me like that every time I bother you while you play, I might have to do it more often~.”

Seishiro said nothing in response. He didn’t even stir beneath you. That is, until your body was turned over and you found yourself face-down on the cushions, trapped beneath your boyfriend's weight, his thick forearm encircling your throat from behind.

“S-Seishiro—!” There was a squeal in your voice as you felt his arm tighten around your throat, pressing you hard against the cushions with his massive bulk and body weight.

“S’that how you feel, Y/N?” His voice was deep, with the faintest of growls beneath it, as he held you taut in his grasp. Between your thighs, you felt his heavy cock hardening once more as he lazily humped it against you, causing your eyes to widen. After emptying the entirety of his balls into you and fucking you into next year, he was getting hard again?!

“Maybe you still haven’t learned your lesson.”

Oh, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t absolutely enthralled by Seishiro when he was like this, and you would most definitely be lying if you said you weren’t going to mess with him while he played again.

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