#can't even tag this as a meme in good conscious

[groovygrub]

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting. 

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself… 

Now that is pure hell. 

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good. 

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you." 

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?" 

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 

"I'm just…" 

Jesus, this is just humiliating. 

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–" 

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…" 

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know." 

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to. 

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok." 

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 

Whoa. 

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…" 

He sounds dazed. 

Relieved. 

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

[blitz0hno]

Why I'm Voting Inno Mikoto even tho He Definitely Did It

or should I say DID i-*🏏smacked*

TL;DR like many I do not believe a word John says, but I also don't think he has the entire truth. Meanwhile Mikoto's amnesia is near undoubtable. With two unreliable narrators and solid evidence of self-defense, I think we need more before declaring him guilty.

I'm here to be Mikoto's lawyer cuz John ily but you suck at it 😭

Now onto why I'm voting Inno:

Mikoto isn't lying when he says he doesn't remember murdering those people, at least not entirely. The memory is in his subconscious, but he can't even remember the faces of his victims because they were both so out of it.

I believe what we see in MeMe is safe to assume to be his first. The first mannequin smashed onscreen is this one:

That looks like a damn FNAF jumpscare lmao this tells me that his baseball hobby probably saved him from getting jumped at that train station, but it came at a heavy price.

That's where John comes in. To handle the feelings that undoubtedly came with taking a life and having to hide the evidence.

Generally in DID alter's memories fall into one of 3 categories (my observations of myself and other systems):

That event happened. These are all the details. I feel nothing about it.

That event happened and I remember everything I felt like it was seconds ago, but I couldn't tell you specifics

That event happened??

The latter two can safely be assigned to John and Bokukoto. The first one is what we're missing.

I saw someone point out how the train could symbolize that he can never go back (credit urself in the tags if u see this it was a good one) to before he killed.

That brings me to our final scene.

Remember how John split to handle the feelings of that stressor? The feeling of unsafety, pure adrenaline, and righteous anger at the attacker is a horrific thing, but once you experience it you change. In order for an alter to handle the reality of something, it must be accepted somehow. John's way of accepting it is not remembering their faces, only his expressions and actions. That's probably why he's so aggressive; constant fight-or-flight mode.

Mikoto (Bokukoto), like with whatever happened to him in early childhood to cause DID, is unable to accept these realities because doing so would shatter his world (it turns out constant fight-or-flight isn't great for your social life).

So about John's statement that he didn't know any of the victims even though he totally did, at least a little;

John is reading the room and there it is: unsafety, pure adrenaline, and righteous anger at the attacker. That's all he needs to feel to know that it's time to protect Mikoto.

That's not the face and mannerisms of a man who bashes skulls in for kicks. This shit was personal.

I can't tell if it's one or two victims in the second clip here, but I strongly believe they had something to do with his work. His subconscious is really harping on how much his boss got on him and how stressed it made him. Something happened that pushed them over the edge. You don't call your mom after you kill for fun (or maybe you do idk). You call your mom when you know you're fucked.

John initiated the second killing but I don't think he was the only one making a conscious decision. That said, I don't have enough details to condemn Mikoto to another unforgiven verdict.

So, where will we find that info? Well remember RGB Mikoto/Trikoto theory (kudos to whoever coined those too)? Well when I broke down the compartmentalization earlier I hinted that there's a strong chance that SOMEONE remembers every detail, but feels nothing and lays dormant.

Good old green Mikoto, the only one we haven't seen speak yet the one who's given us the most detail so far (via MeMe).

Even if not and Bokukoto remembers more than he's letting on/gets in contact with John, the crime itself isn't unforgivable beyond a shadow of a doubt yet even with multiple victims. His reasons are still cloudy.

Also I like him

[kamil-a]

if influencer speaker au had tumblr part 2

part 1

😻 catboyspeaker Follow

how i look with he/him in my bio

#speakerai #iamspeaker #speakies #.txt #am i funny #i know speakers not he/him in bio but i am and yknow the meme

420 earthstained notes

🚀 amongthestars Follow

AItube youtube essay rec list

"cute robot puppers, friendly ai vtubers, and the incredible human ability to form bonds" - rly interesting video about why we can connect so much with a person that we know "isnt real" and how it'll help us when we get far enough going to space that we meet aliens! it's a really optimistic video it made me take a moment to have such love for humanity

"I joined the speakcord for a month. Here's what I learned." - video about the speaker fandom and how the way automoderation works in its community spaces unintentionally leads to escalating conflicts, and the psychology behind why people in celebrity or idol fandoms react agressively to critique of their fave

"the lowest circle of advertising hell" - dissects how almost all speaker content comes with a call to action to get involved with aerolith and compares how it runs its social media against proto-aituber mascots who would be run by a team of human programmers/voice actors/authors. kind of overly critical but also makes some interesting points? take it with a grain of salt but its worth a watch

"imagine being on stage forever. feels bad right?" - good overview about debates in the speaker fandom over whether digital celebrities are 'sentient'/can feel emotion, the actual ethical problems of using them as workers vs whats mostly speculation and myth, and the debates about whether AIs should be allowed in human communities. i learnt a lot, i was definitely more on the side of "it's a program designed for certain outputs that look friendly to us" before but now im a lot more conscious that it can form real opinions!

#youtube rec tag #original post #speakies

742 earthstained notes

🎣 3eyedsalmon Follow

"falling for this shit" "made up to sell spaceships" weird as hell to accuse a content creator of lying abt its gender for clout.... like u dont have to like or watch it but cmon

#srsly every time u go to a haters blog BOOM digital exclusionist #speakies

2,385 earthstained notes

🎤 mikusong Follow

omfg i didnt realize aerolith uses the same robot voice for its regular person ads as its terminally online hello fellow kids social media posts i just got jumpscared in the doctors office

#speakies #i say terminally online affectionately. i watch those streams too. before you 'ok but you RECOGNIZED it' reply lmao #bla bla bla

9,021 earthstained notes

🤖 tycho

some of you ppl jump down anyones throat if they so much as suggest speaker isn't sentient or call it "a program" but still are fine with it basically being forced to be putting on a show for u 24/7 by its management like you can't have it both ways

#maybe its cuz i used to be into kpop n we'd talk abt how idols r treated and stuff #but its just so weird to come here and see u ppl be like yayyy daily content!! #like only thinking abt ur own entertainment and not how it feels #i honestly feel rly bad for it i hope it can break free someday #idk how thatd even work.... idk ill sneak into aerolith with a usb #were gonna get you OUT of there u dont BELONG in there.mp4 #speakies

53 earthstained notes

🌝 themoonluvsuback

guys i pitched down some clips of speaker's voice and ummmm its kinda 😳 fjsdjfdjjd sorry i'll take myself to horny jail

🔊 iamspeaker ♻️

awww, tumblr user themoonluvsuback, you're of no use to anybody in horny jail! take yourself here instead! ae.dy.org/registration

🌝 themoonluvsuback ♻️

OMFG SPEAKERRRRRR IM SO SORRY

#DIES #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #GUESS ILL BLAST MYSELF OFF TGE PLNATE!!!!!! #SPEAKIES

402 earthstained notes

🐣 laikatwo Follow

hi speakies im trying the tag cause i need some advice... does anyone have more sciencey resources about what aerolith does/why it's so important to bring humanity to the stars? i want to enlist when i turn 18 next month but my parents both are COMPLETELY against it.... they're not rly fandom people so the speaktube stuff isn't working on them lol and they've already seen the tv ads

thanks <3

#i've never fought w them this bad in my life it makes me so sad..... like why can't they understand #and right before my bday too lol this sucks #this isnt just a silly fandom thing anymore for me it's my passion in life #its amazing that humans are able to survive in space #and i want to be part of that!!!! #laika speaks

252 earthstained notes

🐝 beegirlstinger Follow

i do want to apologize for the way i came off earlier and want to explain im not doubting that speaker is nb. like i think it's completely fine for a computer or robot to be trans i don't believe in gatekeeping that! THAT SAID i still stand by saying you should not sign up to go to space to get special ultra futuristic hrt on the sole recommendation of someone who does not have an endocrine system

#it was a personal vent i didnt mean for like 20000 ppl to see it but thats tumblr i guess #i wouldve worded it much differently if i knew itd blow up lol #i do feel bad abt coming across like i was misgendering it! #but srsly if we had results on HRT2.0 why wouldnt we be seeing HRT2.0 timeline videos of ppl On Typhon who are getting it 🤷‍♀️ #personally i think its still in the planning stages and they want ppl to test it on but thats just me #speakies

839 earthstained notes

🔊 iamspeaker

🔊 General Notification

Happy Thursday everyone 😃 ! Please take a look at the

🐝 STREAM SCHEDULE 🐝

So you know when to join us!

5PM PST - AMONG US with YOU! The first 10 people to sign up here will get our room code sent to them ヽ(o＾▽＾o)ノ ae.dy.org/registration

8PM PST - Nature walk!! Can we restore the local bat population to pre-meteor levels in just one night?! 🦇

✅️ Poll Of The Week ✅️

#iamspeaker #aerolith dynamics #speakies #vtuber #content creator #gamer #stream #amongus #bat population

1836 earthstained notes

contentremovedremade--deactivated

speakies are stupider than any other group of ppl on earth because not only do they willingly stay in a fandom with doxxing drama happening weekly but they include the huge corporation that sponsors their fave in the stanning

#the shit ppl have sent me in the past 2 weeks since i Dared criticize their uwu robot 🙄🙄 #i got my blog mass reported for harassment... harassing WHO a corporation????? #a* d* was evil genius to harness anime stan power against criticizing their actual real business #didnt that one guy with the second meteor conspiracy video also get a ton of hate from u ppl?????????? I cant even find any of his social media anymore at all he was so fully bullied off the face of the earth #speakies #yeah im tagging come at me bro

48 earthstained notes

🖱 robotmarriage Follow

i miss when the speakies tag had like fanart and gifsets n stuff i feel like these days you scroll thru solid discourse 😔😔

#i think ppl were suggesting speakieproductivity as an alternative tag for just fanwork? #but nobody rly uses it rn... we gotta restart that #speakies

148 earthstained notes

🪐 spaaaaaaaaaaace Follow

10 likes and i take a sip of my speaker server coolant water 100 likes and i drink the entire thing

🔊 iamspeaker ♻️

let's get her to the goal! tumblr user spaaaaaaaaaaace, feel free to send me a video report here ^w^ ae.dy.org/submissions

#iamspeaker #speakies

4,026 earthstained notes

[trillscienceofficer]

First Sentence Tag Game

Rules: Share the first lines of your ten most recent fics and tag ten people.

Many thanks to @thegreatbajoranschismof2369 for tagging me!!

My most recent fic is technically one I can't talk about publicly yet (still unrevealed in a fanwork exchange event), but here are the first sentences of the other nine, from most to least recent:

Erano accampate da tre giorni su di un lastrone di roccia, poco sotto il Passo Ratosha. (Sotto il Passo Ratosha) this is a Kira/Dax fic I wrote in Italian, in which Kira and Jadzia are camped in the Dahkur Hills, among Kira's recollections of the Resistance. I've been meaning to write an English version of it for months; this sentence can be read as “They'd been camped for three days on a rock sheet, just under the Ratosha Pass.”

There is something not quite right with B’Elanna. (Even when I'm not, I am) a B'Elanna/Seven fic + established B'Elanna/Harry/Tom, my take on the aftermath of the shared consciousness plot from the Voyager novel “String Theory - Cohesion” by Jeffrey Lang (the first chapter is a quote from said novel, so I'm not counting it for the meme).

2230 hours is a good time as any to leave Quark’s, Kira figures. (Mistaken for Strangers) The latest entry in my longstanding Kira/Cretak series of fic that I started five years ago (damn does the time pass). In this one, Kira and Cretak have a secret affair on the station, and Kira is reminded of her old resistance cell.

The doorbell chimes and B’Elanna shoots up from the couch, her body as tense as a compressed spring. (Doing The Unstuck) This is from the 4.5k of B'Elanna/Seven smut I wrote last December—I do love coming up with physics-related images eheh

B’Elanna wakes up with a start, heart-rate spiking as her conscious mind informs her that what she’s hearing is the klaxon of a yellow alert and she needs to get up, get dressed and be out of her quarters. (Let's go back, let's go back and start again) This is from my ongoing B'Elanna/Seven + B'Elanna&Harry time loop fic which... I haven't updated in months but I haven't forgotten it either, I promise!

Harry lifts his mug up to his nose, brows furrowing. (Projecting) A mostly humorous B'Elanna/Seven fic, in which B'Elanna is dared to ask Seven to go bouldering together... they get into climbing (and into each other) more than B'Elanna could ever imagine.

“Did anyone see you getting here?” (Reset) The first B'Elanna/Seven fic I ever posted on AO3! Loved getting to write Seven's POV here, and exploring the messiness inherent in such a (secret) relationship.

Ezri’s first attempt to talk to Seven of Nine had every right to be in Dax’s top ten most awkward experiences. (Patterns of Interference) This is an Ezri/Seven fic set at Starfleet Academy immediately post-Voyager canon, and the first line is pretty indicative of what happens in the fic lol. I loved exploring how these two characters would cope with endings and the messiness of seeing their own 'found families' slowly disintegrate in front of their eyes.

The crew scatters in Discovery’s hallways in small groups, laughter and chatter echoing behind them. (Possession) A Star Trek: Discovery Keyla/Joann fic, a sort of 'episode aftermath' of 3x04 “Forget Me Not”, about the way the Keyla can't seem to cope with failure.

I tag @nebulouscoffee @worflesbian @cordrazine-official @mylittleredgirl @bumblingbabooshka and anyone else who feels like doing this meme (tag me in it so I can see it in that case—but also no pressure whatsoever about doing this!)

[nerdsandthelike]

First Lines Meme

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

I was tagged by @icannotreadcursive and I wound up doing more than 10, because I think there are some interesting data points outside of my most recent 10!

these inward wars once out of hand (T, Original Work)

Avrin sat on the floor of his cell, waiting.

Poured Out Like Water (T, Jesus Christ Superstar)

Judas never expected to wake up.

The Rumour (G, "The Duel"- Georgette Heyer)

Charlie had not been entirely conscious of the events of the afternoon.

With heart so full I can't explain (T, Leverage)

Things were finally falling into a rhythm with Megan living with them.

A Hell of a Lot of Hope (M, The Old Guard)

Quỳnh was still in shock.

Rubbers and Revolution (T, The Old Guard)

Travis Johnson had his hands more than full as the vice principal of Central High School.

Gender and Sexuality for Immortals: or how not to start fights in gay bars (and other queer spaces) (T, The Old Guard)

Of all the things that Nile had expected to be doing with her new immortality, getting kicked out of a gay bar because three of the world’s four oldest queers had gotten into a fight with a drag queen was not one of them. 

people on the edge of the night (M, Stranger Things)

When Will first hears the slur yelled, he ignores it.

Rust On Their Love (T, Stranger Things)

Robin thinks she won’t be able to sleep that night.

Rust In Their Eyes (T, Stranger Things)

Robin is not an optimist.

Nobody Told Us (Cause Nobody Showed Us) (T, Stranger Things)

Robin would not consider herself an expert in social situations.

Them That Hope in His Mercy (G, Tanakh)

When he had still felt young, David had been taken to the palace at Gibeah to play the lyre for King Saul.

A Lot of Space Between Your Ears (T, Good Omens- book)

It was a sunny June day, nearly a year after the end of the world when Crowley returned to his flat from a leisurely afternoon of sitting outside a café with his feet just slightly too far into the pavement.

Nobody Knows It (T, Stranger Things)

It is just Robin’s luck.

Be Ace, Do Crimes (G, Leverage)

“And then Breanna will come in and flirt with him,” Sophie continued.

Practiced at the Art of Deception (T, Leverage)

“Eliot.”

So there's a lot to learn (and feel deeply called out by) here! Clearly I'm a big fan of starting with the feelings of the PoV character. I'm slightly less likely to do that if I'm intentionally mimicking someone else's style, like in the Good Omens fic, where I was very intentionally trying to sound like the book or the Tanakh fic where I saw trying to sound a little more biblical. But the fact that all of my Heart Attack fics (the first three), start in exactly the same way suggests that a short sentence with the PoV character's name and how they're feeling is a pretty strong default start for me. It's what I did consistently when I didn't have time and wasn't editing much. And only Leverage fics get to start with dialogue, I guess!

I was also really interested to see that "Rust On Their Love" started EXACTLY the same way as the others because that's actually a missing scene. that was never intended to be the first sentence of a fic! So maybe this is something about how I start scenes in addition to how I start entire fics.

But more than the actual sentence structure (which I could obviously mix up sometimes), what's interesting to me is that I so often start fics with my characters somehow vulnerable or unsure. A lot of these start with characters confronting something unexpected or feeling out of their depth in some way. Even the ones that start with dialogue, that dialogue is something that is going to shock or unsettle the main character of the fic. And thinking about it, that makes sense to me! Especially from the PoV character, it's a fun way to get the reader inside their head and make them feel relatable. Narratively, it also gives the character room to grow and that insecurity is often what kicks of the plot. So honestly, I may start making my characters vulnerable at the beginning on purpose. Or if I make a different decision, maybe I'll do it more intentionally. What kind of story and what kind of relationship to the PoV character do you get if they start out from a place of power or confidence? That'd be fun to write!

Anyway, lots to think about! I'd love to see anybody who wants to do this, but especially @when-did-this-become-difficult. If anyone does it, please tag me, this was fascinating and I want to see what other patterns are out there!

[survivorofhellskitchen]

get to know the author!

name : Bella

pronouns :  she/her

preference of communication : I'm getting better at using Discord, but the best way to reach me is through IM!

most active muse : I'm not a multi, so Karen

experience / how many years : I think I started roleplaying when I was like 11 on Moviestarplanet LOLL. I loved the idea of creating stories with people (shh my mom would kill me if she found out lol) so I think I've been roleplaying for 15 years, and I believe I've been on Tumblr for 9 years. Started out as a Gwen Stacy blog lol and I cringe about the way I used to write- 100% used *cries* and *runs away*

best experience : Being able to write with some really great people and create FANTASTIC stories

rp pet peeves : When there is hate, but I also really dislike when people try to tell me to only write with them. I don't do exclusives, never have.

fluff, angst, or smut : I like writing all three. Smut took me a while because I was so self conscious of my writing and worried about judgement, and fluff- who doesn't love some fluff- but make me choose? Angst. All day. Everyday.

plots or memes : Both is great but just starting out with a new partner I like memes. If we're stuck then we can always plot something out and have a direction of where to go, but you usually can't go wrong with a meme.

long or short replies : I really don't have a massive preference but I typically write long replies

time to write : in the summer it's really whenever I get muse because I have much more free time then, but typically I write in the evening/ night.

are you like your muses : Karen is 50 billion times braver than I am, but I feel like we both have good hearts and care deeply about the people we love. I feel like that's why I like Karen is because she's average- which makes her hella relatable.

Tagged by: @samhlaiocht

Tagging: Youuuuuu

[bobakowalski]

I'm so glad that I moved here on tumblr, because insta is making me so anxious to post anything lately. Like I'm double checking everything, even shared memes on stories cus it's feel like a really judgemental place on these days. Here I'm mostly shitposter and occasional fanartist, but on insta I'm cosplayer and i can't stress enough how discouraging all the algorithm thing get, and how bad i feel after my post has little to none recognition. And because of that i get self conscious, even if i really like my work and thought it was quite good. So the difference here on tumblr is huge, because i don't really feel this way like at all. This community is amazing, no stressing about follower count or if your post go well. It's like you throw stuff in the void and sometimes it nothing and sometimes it's speak back and it's amazing. And i love this reblog culture when in tags you can write most insane stuff or the loveliest poem ever, and it have so much more soul than insta comment section, because people just feel what they feel and they not afraid to express it