#god i fucking hate pieces of shit like this
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faylvrs · 2 days ago
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but im not hurt, im tense ✿ bllk multi ’cause i’ll be fine without you babe.
﹒postscript : it’ll never work out. feat. ɞ‎ shidou, rin, sae, kaiser ʚ cw : fem reader, angst ( no comfort )
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shidou looks at you with a pout on his face. it’s been millenials since he last saw you—( 2 weeks ). so when he finally found you wandering the local store in your area, he immediately grabbed your wrist.
“you blocked me.” his mouth curls downwards. “am i nothing to you?”
the mocking look on his face only makes your frustrations grow deeper. “yes, i did block you. and that too for a reason so let g—“
“no.” his grip on your hand tightens, as if he was scared to let go. “tell me baby, where did i go wrong?” his tone sounds almost pleading.
“where did you go wrong?” you stare at him in disbelief. “you almost punched my dad at family dinner, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?” you snap at him.
“is that what you’re mad about?” shidou scoffs. “he deserved it anyway, was sayin’ some stupid shit.” he dismisses your confrontation.
“ryusei.” your hand finally breaks free from his grip, pushing him away. “this is why we broke up.” you glare at him before hurriedly exiting the store.
shidou clenches his fists, knuckles turning white as he looks down at the floor. he felt his blood boiling, like he was going to burst in an explosion.
it’s only that, he doesn’t like this explosion.
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rin’s resolve is crumbling down second by second as he watches your smile break down into a look of confusion and hurt. you’re interfering with his goals? what is he talking about?
“what are you talking about?” you hold onto his hand, as if clutching a thread thats about to break. “i’ve been there for you since we were kids and supported your dream—what’s so annoying about that?” the tention in your words are clear.
“im going to become the world’s best striker.” rin grits his teeth. “and you keep getting in the fucking way.” his words are cold, hitting you like an iceberg.
you do get in his way- in every way possible. he wants to defeat itoshi sae, and yet, every goal he scores seems to be dedicated to you. you’re slowly deprieving his heart of all the hatred and god, he hates it.
he’s made up his mind, he wants to defeat itoshi sae. but with you, the only mental image in his mind is nii-chan, not itoshi sae.
he doesn’t want to destroy his older brother, he wants to destroy itoshi sae.
his heart clenches at the sorrowful look on your face. “are you serious? im getting in the way?” you look like your world has just been broken into a million pieces—it’s so sudden, you almost don’t know how to react.
“you’re lukewarm.” rin stares daggers into you. “just forget about us, you knew we were never meant to be.”
maybe rin imagined a future with you,
but all you are now is a bittersweet childhood sweetheart.
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sae doesn’t have time for you.
or thats what he likes telling himself, since he always finds himself cancelling interviews or cutting practice short to come see you.
you mess with his brain—in a good and bad way.
but he know’s you deserve better, better than someone like him. you deserve someone who can be there for you, communicate with you properly, give you the affection you deserve.
but he can’t.
it’s been clear he’s never made you a priority in his life, he know’s you’re getting tired of him canceling dates and replying to your messages every few hours.
he’s just finished practice, taking a long sip from his water bottle as he opens his phone. a message from you pops up.
im breaking up with you. it’s not working out, im sorry.
sae’s expression is neutral, but the way he’s squeezing the life out of the plastic bottle says otherwise, squeezing out the last bit of water as it falls to the ground.
you have all the good reason to break up with him, but something in him wants to plead, to beg, that he’ll be better, to give him one last chance.
sorry for not making time for you. good luck.
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”you’re not enough.” kaiser snaps at you, a look of fury in his eyes.
you had arguments with him often. you were tired of him constantly pushing you away whenever you’d try to show him an ounce of affection—simple things would turn into harsh words exchanged between eachother.
“do you not see how much i do for you?” you snap back. “and you’re saying im not enough? when i have to go days without contact because you don’t even bother to call?” you raise your voice at him, making him flinch.
the truth is, you’ve always been enough.
but he’s not enough for you. that’s why he’s building these barriers around himself to hide away—he doesn’t deserve you, nor your touch. you’re like an angel who descended from the gates of heaven, and he’s a lowly devil.
he’s afraid his scars will brush on you, which is why he never gives you the chance to heal them. instead pushing you further and further away.
”schatz.” his eyes waver at the hurt visible in your eyes, and the nickname doesn’t make it any better.
he can’t ask for your forgiveness, he’s not worthy of it.
he can only watch you walk out of his life, an angel deprieved of her feathers.
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noonwardmoss · 2 days ago
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A short piece regarding this post of mine. If you can't find 'em, make 'em.
Apologies for any errors. I wrote this very quickly in my Notes app because I hate myself apparently
CW: Anal, VERY slight daddy/petplay kink on Butcher's part (he calls himself Daddy and you pet/dove)
SMUT BELOW CUT
You're dribbling into the sheets, pussy clenching around nothing and drooling desperately. Butcher's got his big hands on your ass cheeks, holding them spread and forcing you to take it. Most of his weight is on you in this position, and you're some fuzzy place past cockdumb with the air forced out of your lungs with each thrust, but it feels too good to make him stop.
"Good fuckin' girl," he grumbles when you arch your back further. You can feel his eyes burning where he slams into you, watching your hole accept him greedily again and again. "Told ya you'd like it—choking my cock like yer trying to keep a piece'a me for later."
His words make you whine, as they often do, and a chuckle reaches your ears. You were hesitant before, but God was he right. From him fingering your ass to actually fucking it, you've been drenched the whole time. It's just something about him that makes you enjoy nearly anything.
"Thinkin' I can keep a load or two in here, sweetheart," Butcher muses, hips slamming into yours with bruising force. He has your face pressed into the sheets, tears soaking the material. "What'dya say? Think she can take bein' stuffed?"
Despite not being fully aware, you nod desperately. As long as he speaks to you like that, there's little you won't do for him and he knows it. It's seldom you deny him in the first place. You can practically hear his shit-eating grin when he says, "That's what I like to hear, dove."
His grip shifts more toward your thighs, pushing them together as his angle changes so he can get deeper with more force. Pitiful whines rip from your throat as he does, nails gripping the bed for any sort of steadiness. You know you probably won't walk right after this—Butcher's already nearly too thick for your cunt—and some part of you delights in that fact.
"Ah– fuck, Butcher–" you manage through moans. He swats at your leg with a groan as you flutter around him.
"That's it, darl'," he soothes, slightly mocking. His hand hooks around your pelvis, fingers dipping into your slit just to feel your ache for him. "Tsk. This needy hole need some love too, pet? Should'a just told me. More than happy to help with 'at."
A scream nearly tears from you as two of his digits slide into you, their girth welcomed by your slickness. His huffed amusement sounds right by your ear.
"I'm the only one who can do this for you, ey? Only bastard bigger enough than you to fill you all up just right," he grunts. When you clench, he curses. "Fuck, making me wanna switch over here, doll. That slutty cunt of yours is gripping me fingers tight."
He knows he's got you when your eyes roll back.
"Oh, close, is she? Well go on, give me a show. Let Daddy feel you come while he fucks yer ass."
You tip over the edge, voice all scratchy from the moaning he makes you do. He's the only man who ever gets you this noisy in bed. That cockiness of his is for a damn good reason. He groans and follows shortly after, spilling into you with the stuttering of his hips.
When he pulls out, you can feel yourself gaping and dripping his sperm. He pushes it back in with his fingers and presses his dick in again.
"Said I was gonna fuck two or so loads in, didn't I?" He smirks, and you whimper into the sheets.
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levans44 · 22 hours ago
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leave me with nothing when I come down
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pairing: steve rogers x fatal touch!reader
summary: The Almighty Captain America, laid to waste by your bare hands and pussy.
Now wouldn’t that make for a nice headline.
warnings: 18+ SMUT, just pure filth, some angst, FWB, hate fucking, heavy choking, breath play, sub steve rogers, subtle fdom, reader has fatal touch meaning she can't make bare skin contact with anyone without killing them
word count: 1.8k
a/n: I... don't even have words for this one, really. just that steve rogers with a choking kink and submissive streak would heal me.
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"Second time this week.”
“Shut up. Take that shit off.”
A 2 a.m. text is all it takes. 
He’s at your door, helmet in hand, hair wild from the ride—straight off the tarmac, still carrying the scent of Marrakesh on his skin.
There's no small talk, no kissing, no preamble.  
It’s not like he needs it anyway, the strain of him evident against the kevlar—a monument raised in devotion. 
Because out there, beyond the sanctum of your studio apartment, he’s a god of war—sharp lines, discipline incarnate. Issuing orders like edicts and delivering punishing blows in the name of combat training. 
But in here? He’s just a man. 
Yours.
His uniform sloughs off like old skin—discarded offerings marking a trail to the altar of your living room. The shield leans haphazardly against the doorframe, forgotten.
There’s a dumb, boyish grin on his face when you corner him against your threadbare couch, climbing over him and settling roughly in his lap. And when your bare thighs slide up next to his own, caging him beneath your heat, his lashes flutter involuntarily—because the first touch is always an adjustment, no matter how many times he’s been here. 
Like a live wire pressed to his skin, ripping through his veins and setting every nerve ablaze. 
All the white-hot brilliance of a collapsing star; tiny supernovas erupting under his skin, leaving behind a constellation of heat marking your divine path. 
You narrow your eyes at him, nostrils flaring, yet your dainty fingers still tremble when they rise up to his chest.
The locus of your power—where your touch is most potent—laid flat over the flushed skin covering his heart. The thrum of his pulse flutters against your palm, reassuring.
Still beating.
The first time you'd touched him, you’d been so cautious—fingertips barely grazing his skin, sending sparks across the top of his knuckles. Yanked your hand back just as quickly, wide-eyed and breathless as if you expected him to crumble to the ground in front of you.  
Instead, he’d caught your quivering hand in his, grip warm and unyielding.
It’s alright. 
Guided it under his shirt, pressing your palm flat against his chest, just left of where the five-point insignia's etched into his skin. He'd kept your hand there for a long while, letting you feel the warmth of human flesh, the steady rise and fall of a moving ribcage besides your own—maybe for the first time.
Met your gaze as if to say:
See? Still beating.
Disbelief and trepidation in your eyes when you stared back, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But when it didn’t—when he didn’t—you’d gone straight for his lips instead.  
“Where’d you go, Rogers?”
Your distant warning calls him back, punctuated by a soft tsk as your hips tease slow circles over his lap. One hand braced on his shoulder for leverage, his stomach glistening with your arousal. 
There’s something chiding in the furrow of your brows, the purse of your lips—like you’re disappointed that he’s managed to remain in one piece. Like setting him alight was the only absolution.
He blinks, still drowning in the feeling of your skin against his, the overwhelming burn reduced to a steady buzzing as his eyes focus back on you. 
But it’s too late—you’ve found other ways to keep his mind tethered.
Your arm slides behind your back, finding the head of his cock, swollen red and throbbing in time with his heartbeat. As soon as your fingers graze the tip, his breath hitches, abs clenching like he’d taken a blow to the gut. His hands shoot up to grip your hips, palms searing at the contact. 
An appeased grin touches your lips as you stroke him once, twice, then sink down in a single, fluid motion, the heat of your body enveloping him whole. 
“Oh, fffu—“ 
His mouth falls open, a half-formed hymn forming on his tongue, the rest swallowed by the ruthless pace you set.
Both hands anchored to his chest as you lift back up, until just the head of his cock is enveloped by the tight, wet ring of your entrance. You swivel your hips in a slow, teasing circle, testing his restraint before sinking all the way back down. Then you'd start over from the top, the weight of your thrusts heavy and relentless—eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back as if you’re basking in the first downpour after a lifelong drought. 
He tracks your every movement, eyes lazy and half-lidded, head lolled against the back of the couch. The thick column of his neck bares itself to you, his jugular pulsing a steady offering.
And being the merciful god you are, you take it.
Four dainty fingers curl around his throat, your thumb pressing just enough to feel his breath catch, his pulse thundering under your grip. Searing heat shoots up his neck, sharp static rippling across the flesh.
And as his vision grows hazy around the edges, you begin to glow at its center. Your silhouette illuminated by a blinding radiance as you bask in his pain—the ache, the burn, all laid bare for you.
“That’s it, show me.”
His voice breaks out gravelly and thick, nearly unrecognizable with you pressing down on his vocal cords. His hands grow restless, quick to worship the curve of your hips, your stomach, before sliding up under your shirt. Calloused fingertips find your nipples, pebbled and straining against the flimsy cotton, and pinch hard enough to elicit a choked gasp. He smiles as you glare and press harder against his neck, betrayed by the way you clench around him when he repeats the gesture. 
The only man who can withstand your touch without succumbing to its power. His super-soldier healing ability absorbing your raw, unbridled energy, strong enough to send anyone else into a permanent coma with just a moment’s touch. 
And there’s a thought in there somewhere, deep in the corner of his sex-fuddled, oxygen-deprived brain, about something Sam once told him. How some people grow so accustomed to pain that they seek it out—caught in a relentless cycle of self-destruction and sabotage, never having known a life without it. 
Sound familiar, Steve?
And maybe the fact that this was what he was thinking about, in the midst of being fucked into oblivion, was a good example as any to prove Sam’s point. But he shoves that thought aside too, tossing it onto the ever-growing pile, stacked miles high. 
Like all the others, it’ll have to wait. When you’re not grinding your hips and arching into his touch, so warm and tight and perfectly fitted around him.
So he pushes you harder, meeting your thrusts and pinching your nipples sore until you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. Draws you to the edge, just like he knows how, that line where control and reason blur into nothing but raw sensation. 
His Adam’s apple bobs under your palm when he swallows thickly, smiling: 
“You’re gonna cum, aren't you?”
You let out a sharp breath, eyes squeezed shut, whispering as if you’re pleading for forgiveness. 
“Shut up. Shut up.” Your prayers grow louder still.
“God, just fucking—”
He meets your glare with a steady gaze, the subtext in his eyes clear as day:
Do it. Try me.
You slow the relentless rotation of your hips, brows furrowing as you lift your other hand. It hovers for a moment, uncertain, before draping over the one already pressed to his neck. 
The added pressure’s enough to actually render him starved for air, back arching as his breathing grows shallow. Pressure builds up in his ears, the blood rushing to his head and muffling the world around him, leaving him with only the thrum of his own pulse and the filthy slaps coming from between his legs, wet and frenzied as you pick up your pace.  
Your brows are knitted together, a bead of sweat rolling down the curve of your temple. Knees rubbed raw against the scratchy upholstery as you roll your hips over and over, hands still fixed over his throat. With no room to swallow, spit starts to pool in his mouth, the same time your rhythm falters, a familiar pattern of spasms signaling your end. 
He’s right there with you, teetering on the brink—whatever breaths he can muster getting shorter, faster. It leaves him lightheaded and reeling, the serum working overtime to absorb the onslaught of your energy. 
And if the thought of his healing ability stretching out so thin, enough that you could actually choke him to death, only makes his dick swell inside you, then… fuck it. He likes the noises you make anyway, eyes rolling back every time it finds that tender spot deep within you. 
The Almighty Captain America, laid to waste by your bare hands and pussy.
Now wouldn’t that make for a nice headline.
He drops one hand to find your clit with deft precision, desperate to see you tip over the edge before his lungs give out. Rubs tight, small circles, just above where his dick’s plunging into your heat, until you're twitching violently against him, collapsing forward with a sharp, fractured cry. 
Your hands release around his throat, flying up to grip his hair instead, and the sudden rush of oxygen precipitates his own release as he bucks up into you, a strangled groan ripped from his abused throat.
He finds solace in the crook of your neck, the cradle of something divine, as light bursts behind his eyes. He comes in thick, pulsing ropes, his body collapsing under the weight of the sensation, trembling as he’s made undone by your touch. 
He blinks away black dots from his vision in the comedown, ears still ringing as you shuffle off his lap. You raise a soft tissue in his direction, smiling at his defeated form—legs spread and chest heaving—and grant him a few more breaths before he lifts himself off the couch.
“Same time next week?”
"Fuck off, Rogers.”
With a tired huff, you snatch up his uniform off your floor, shoving it against his chest. He smiles, letting his hand brush against yours, savoring that electric surge one last time. 
His shield feels feather-light when he slings it across his back, giving you one last look before you slam the door in his face. He doesn’t miss the blush that bloomed across your cheeks, just seconds before you averted your eyes, mirroring the one on his own face. 
Because the truth is, he needs this just as much as you do. Maybe more.
Someone to break the parts of him that never healed quite right, snapping them clean so he can piece them back together. 
As he stares at the faded mahogany of your apartment door, that familiar high begins to settle in—a fleeting but vivid taste of what it felt like before the serum, when cuts stayed open and bruises remained tender for weeks. 
And as the long-lost weight of exhaustion starts to seep into his bones, making his eyelids grow heavy, he rejoices. 
He’s treading on nothing but air when he bounds down the stairs of your building, giddy with anticipation for a night of deep, unbroken sleep. 
He’ll dream of you until the next time he’s back.
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nickers4bullets · 3 days ago
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😂😂😂😂🤣🤣that one guy he has added on discord doesnt get on my nerves. yeah he doesnt anger me. yeah he doesnt irritate me. yeah he isn’t a weirdo. a creep? no! totally!! i totally don’t hate him!! 😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 i definitely dont think hes stupid as hell! 😂😂 i dont hate his guts! 😂😂 does he ever get brought up in conversations? nope, rarely! thank god 😂😂 but do i know he still fucking exists in MY friend’s friend list? do i know he still lurks around like the scum piece of shit he is? yes! 😂😂😂🤣🤣😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 do i hate that hes still in my friend’s life? yesssss!!!😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 hes worse than me 😂😂🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂and he sucks 😂🤣🤣😂😂and i fucking hate him and all he stands for 😂😂😂😂 and how he treated MY dom 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂🤣 like a pest hes still around and it pisses me off 😂😂🤣go away little rodent 😂😂🤣
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rouge-the-bat · 2 years ago
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hey guys probably should stop reblogging this post
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and start blocking the op bc uh. this shit
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upsidedownsmore · 3 months ago
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Hollowframe 56 - Dante
IT'S DONE
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
anyways uh I've been working on this for entirely too long but it's also my most technically accomplished piece so far so I'm very happy rn
wip montage vid thingy:
links and stuff below the cut!
High quality on Artstation:
Free (or pay what you want!) Google Drive link for the entire Hollowframe Project on my Ko-Fi:
Previous Hollowframe update (Hollowframe 57 + Umbra poster):
Previous Hollowframe solo illustration (Qorvex):
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izel-scribbles · 3 months ago
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just finished malevolent relisten. needless to say the obsession has been rekindled tenfold its previous magnitude
#im so fucking isnane about this podcast#ok notable reactions:#john.. Oh my god. It’s so insane to go back and hear how much he’s changed in the way he talks and reasons and treats arthur#i love you john doe malevolent#fav trans allegory ever!!!!!#definitely relate to him a normal amount (liar voice)#and then. S2. I really need to make that animatic with lonesome dreams#godddd i forgot how painful the ep18 divorce was#and then!!!! the canna mentions helping noel escape!!! completely forgot about that part#s3. oh my god. absolute fav season. soooo many crazy moments.#like coda??? “You want him back.” “I want him safe.” You want him baaack.” “I want him back”#KAYNE I FUCKING HATE THAT RAT BASTARD.NEED TO BASH HIS HEAD IN WITH A ROCK BUT HES A FREAK AND HED ENJOY IT SO I CANT#piece od shit#and then 23/24??????? arthur’s happy cry-laugh???? dead#part 25. “I killed myself. For a voice in my head. Do you know how mad that sounds?” what if IIII killed myself#26. god. Then 27. And 28. Literally my fav season ever#followed closely by s4#ohhhh my god i forgot how hot the butcher is like genuinely#i completely forgot prelude somehow???? giggling kicking my feet twirling my hair the whole time#i need to be this homicidal gay irishman hes so hot oh my god#the 29 divorce. with the movie lmaoo#i need to draw them going on a night out and seeing a movie and getting dinner and drinks and dancing and (gets shot)#gooddddd i remember listening to 31 for the first time and being so fucking confused#PART 33. HIT ME RIGHT IN THE EMOTIONS. OH MY GOD. BELLA SALTZMAN I COULD’VE TREATED YOU SO MUCH BETTER#34….. i can’t speak about 34 without barking and howling like a rabid dog#dog. Is that a butcher refere(gets shot for the third time)#NOELLLLLL MY DARLING WIFE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH#this has just inspired me to keep writing hofth with ella tbh#lowkey don’t even get the obsession with oscar tho i can’t be talking#to each their own or whatever
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bruciemilf · 10 months ago
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the most enraging aspect of art is knowing exactly how you want it to look and yet. And yet.
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beanghostprincess · 10 months ago
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Law would love "House" and Sanji would love "The Bear" yes, but have you considered both of them watching Love Island together
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achillesunly · 1 month ago
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Now, let's all say it together,
Fuck you Neil Gaiman.
FUCK
YOU
SO
HARD
NEIL
GAIMAN
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syrupbitee · 2 months ago
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their dinamic is messy but caring but idfa about you all at same time it makes me want to explode i want to see more of them siu pls
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foreverxdaydreaming · 2 months ago
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x
#just needed to vent for a sec but oh god am i tired of people#'friends' both irl and online got me fucked up lately#mental healths been in the shitter almost nonstop this year#familys always got me up the wall#i just feel like I'm constantly treading water and i am *tired*. like so fucking TIRED#it's never enough; it's too much; no not like that; but not that either; it's all wrong wRoNg WrOnG#ik im sleep deprived and possibly pms-y and that is most certainly not helping things rn but...#gods i see less and less of a reason to get out of bed and bother with anything ever again#wtf is the purpose#i can't keep friends to save my life bc im apparently a fuckin doormat and interesting as unflavored rice or smth#how hard is it to feel like you maybe sorta kinda matter and aren't an unlovable worthless piece of shit#years of therapy; trying meds; everything under the sun.... and nothing. lows and highs and dips of every kind and yet ..nothing#and maybe im just very much in my feelings rn and just yelling into the void.. but it hurts and im tired of pretending it doesn't.#i hate how hard it is to make friends as an adult especially irl. and how gossipy and cliquey and gross and mean ppl can be#of getting called childish and naive and boring for wanting to be a decent person and having interests outside of partying#(not attacking those traits but tired of getting attacked for *not* being 'fun' enough or 'social' enuf or 'sensitive' for having feelings)#enough*#i just want to go eat drywall and stand in the rain and let it help me pretend im not crying blood rn.#like every cell in my body isn't trying to spontaneously combust.#'it gets better' ..yeah? when. when i was 14? when i was 23? when im 37? when im 55? 82? WHEN.. bc im so sick and tired#and no this isn't me writing a final note or whatever it sounds like; i just wanted to word vomit bc ive never been good w sadness#and ive got such an overwhelming amount of it rn i can't even turn it into anger & spite & use that for productivity... i just want to rot#to lie down and be covered by plants as i sleep and just slowly fade into a cloud or smth like it's a ghibli movie or wtv.#im like shaking from how stupidly emotional i feel rn. the lack of empathy these days is fuckin astounding#common sense & empathy are lacking in absolutely droves these days. some days i hate the internet & tech for its irreparable damages sm#but here we are and here it shall remain. long after us; and *long* after us ..... *sigh*#anyway ima go try to take a nap or smth. I'll see ya when i see ya. take care my lovelies#if u read all this i prob owe you a cookie lol
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triglycercule · 2 months ago
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thinking about mtt literally physically dragging eachother down and being restrained to eachother because theyre genuinely that fucking ass for eachother but then it means i'd have to decide which of them to humiliate by putting a collar on them. and i can't choose. if they dont all equally suffer than whats the point man 🙁🙁🙁
#i think they'd all have interesting reactions to it 2#like a permanent collar that cant be taken off. to make even more gruesome what if it were like built into the BONE????#or it could just be something less extreme like bone carvings. killer would absolutely do that shit#anyways i think horror would be the most reactive to it. anger is the most intriguing emotion#and also dog horror real. anyways he'd hate to be demeaned and disrespected like that. he has an ego and honor man and this is cutting it#dust drags him around constantly. killer pets him and disregards his boundaries. like a fucking DOG#because horror hates kist enough that he'd never let them get vulnerable enough. not that it stops killer LMAO#dust thinks some of horrors hatred towards them is a projection of his own self hatred (and hed lowkey be right)#loser. dust i think would be unique because to me he'd be a bit fine with it#i mean i think itd be hidden under paps scarf so it wouldn't be a constant reminder of horror n killer#but he lets the two hold the leash at least a bit. give him an eensy bit of touch and let a few insults slide#but the second he decides that even the smallest thing is enough he gets ticked off and then yk. someone has to put bunny back in his place#because dust is chill enough to let normal things in his eyes pass. he's not very reactionary or the type to immediately bite back#(since dust would just avoid horror and killer if he did meet them. means he has some sort of tolerance for them. keeping his peace fr)#but the moment hes reminded that god these two do suck and i shouldn't be letting this happen all of the held back anger comes out#killer would seek out the force and stuff. horror would treat him like shit because it makes himself feel good and killer look like an idio#dust doesn't even glance at him though and it pisses killer off. both of their actions do actually#like WTF DUST you guys literally put this on me. treat me like the piece of shit i know you think i am#but also STOP HORROR!!!! dont pull me around and demean me im not a pet i dont want to be treated that way even tho i say it do#yeah hes caught in a standstill. AND SO AM I do you see my issue. cannot pick one specific#all the trio would have such interesting reactions i cant just choose one to solely suffer......... anyways mttpoly am i right#should i tag this. like majority of the interesting stuff is in tags. but also i didnt post today i have a duty#dust sans#killer sans#horror sans#murder time trio#utmv#tricule rant#this just ended up being me thinking about mtt with collars. maaan what about handcuffs and chains and other restrictive things#having them have restraining relationship isnt enough i need them to PHYSICALLY RESTRAIN EACHOTHER
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waywardsalt · 3 months ago
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man just about every new little bit of that new totk book i see just makes me feel more and more rabid
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doctorweebmd · 3 months ago
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a really nice comment on 'nothing else fills' made me actually reread it for like, the first time in its entirety and.
wow. its... actually really good. like. i teared up multiple times and i'm the one that wrote it. why was i so mean to myself about it.
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demobatman · 1 year ago
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going back to my roots but if i have to read another post talking about how robin and eddie wouldnt be friends/it would be hard for them to be friends im going to scream those two fucking terrorize steve harrington and are gay married. he knows her. from BAND.
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