#help idk what the ending was . . .

[paunchsalazar]

better together

[artist-rat]

some epilogue vibes (an excuse to draw some hugs. and my durge so many times)

[mourning-at-night]

jace i don’t feel good was so funny but also made me so sad. like that’s a teenager with a strawberry squishmallow keychain and a tamagotchi and she doesn’t feel good and she's tugging on a teacher’s sleeve about it. a teacher who should have been responsible for protecting her in the first place and didn’t. who is manipulating and using her and her friends to help fulfill the desires of a wrathful power-hungry egomaniac. porter and jace it’s on sight >:(

[meamiki]

silly comic based on a time i struggled to read live on stream :thumbsup:

context clip compilation below ASDASDFASA

(cw for brief mention of hospitals/strokes)

[stargirlo]

zip your lips. rafe c. x fem!reader

rafe fingering you silently while you watch a movie with him and the rest of his family . . . :>

you comfortably laying your back down against his chest as your cute bum rests on his crotch, his calloused hand parting your thighs wider before he casually slips a finger under your cotton panties, having a feel of your velvety walls fluttering around his thick digit. you swallowed a gasp or any sort of noise that dared to spill from your lips, his finger slowly and teasingly pumping in and out of your already soaked pussy before nuzzling his fingers knuckles deep into your pussy.

the movie continued to play on the screen, the crunchy sounds of popcorns being eaten up was heard around the room, covering the squelching noises that erupted under the thick blanket from you and rafe.

" 'm feeling a bit thirsty, does anyone want anything to drink?" and that's when sarah got up.

fucking hell.

you tried to stay calm and collected, but not when rafe was abusing your sopping cunt with just his fingers, the pad of his fingertips brushing against your sweet spot, making you writhe against him.

"y/n, do you need anything? coke? water? juice?" sarah asked, oblivious by the fact that you're getting finger fucked by her brother right now. a roll of sweat dampens your forehead, struggling to even speak properly. you squeezed and clawed at rafe's forearm, implying him to stop what he's doing and to finally let you speak. but he wasn't stopping, and he wasn't planning on stopping.

"y/n?" sarah called out again, but her tone in voice shifted to concern, wondering why you aren't answering properly. you cleared your throat all of a sudden, turning your head to meet sarah's gaze, a dopey smile curling up at your lips. "s-sorry, i uh- don't need anything... i'm- i'm good, t-thank you..." and just at that moment, rafe decided to slip another finger in, causing you to stammer at your sentence and sounding completely stupid at the moment.

the blond softly hummed, receiving a simple nod from her as she headed out to the kitchen to get herself her own beverage. a string of whispered curses leave your lips, closing your eyes tightly shut, manicured nails digging deep crescent shapes on his tanned skin that could probably leave marks, and frustratingly moving around his lap as a way to just ease the overwhelming pleasure that coursed in your veins.

"fuck you- fuck you rafe, ohmygod, stop stop stop stop." you whimpered quietly at him, raising your chin up and arching your back upwards. "shh, you're missing the best part of the movie." rafe murmurs against your ear, knowing damn well he isn't paying attention to the movie himself. a parting grin curl up at his lips, deciding to bring you to the edge and making you cum right on the spot by curling his fingers on your pussy.

a short shriek elicits from your glossy lips, body jolting that a faint little squeak from the couch was heard, gaining a bit of attention from ward. "is everything okay there?" his slightly gruff voice echoed around the living room area, eyebrows knitting together in suspicion. "e-everything is fine sir i jus'-" you were cut off when rafe suddenly spoke. "she just got a cramp on her leg from stretching, should be good in a few minutes." he spoke casually, his thick digits still buried inside your cunt as your slimy juices drip down to your ass, some of it landing on the plush couch cushions.

ward didn't think much of it, so he bought back his attention to the scene of the movie. not until a few minutes later, wheezie then exclaimed. "something smells in here and it's definitely not popcorn."

shut uppppppppppppppp!!!!!!!!!

[theelmoarchive]

An extreme cringe Jam post because ‼️‼️‼️ i am free

Id like to remind everyone that they are cringefail losers 🎉🎉🎉

Also please Ignore that I mispelled mischievous

[rambles-about-minecraft-ocs]

one of my favorite things about zedaph is that on a server full of people that find strange and oft-overlooked minecraft mechanics or rare events and then see just how far they can push them in the name of spectacle or efficiency or world-breaking, zed is over here finding these mechanics in order to do the weirdest things he can think of in as entertaining a manner as possible

like i 100% have faith in zedaph's theoretical ability to be just as efficient or spectacular or world-breaking. if he wanted to do that stuff, i trust that he absolutely could. but thats so far from being his priority. instead, hes going to spend around a week of irl time focused entirely on eventually having the good luck to spawn in something insanely rare so that he can convert it into something even rarer, the result of which being something that 99% of the server reacts with complete and utter shock that it even exists in the first place, just because its zany and funny and he wanted to. and i love that

[3amfanfiction]

Simon Finds a Toy pt 2

Serial killer Simon takes you with him on his outings. How does that go? Cw: Stockholm Syndrome, period play, blood First

You watched at first.

Simon was beautiful in his brutality. You knew something was wrong with you for thinking it but it was the truth. The control he had over his body and the environment was truly astonishing. It was as if nothing could go amiss when he was watching.

It turned you on.

You weren't going to do anything about it of course. That was crossing a line. But you couldn't help how your body responded to him. It was just human nature. No one would be able to blame you.

Not that you spoke to anyone else. That was a step too far for Simon apparently. While he trusted you to leave the cabin with him, he got downright antsy if you began talking with people.

It didn't bother you as much as you would expect it to, having gotten used to only talking to Simon and Dog. The cabin had been a lonely place, isolating. Some days you wondered if being there warped who you were or if it only allowed it to flourish.

You're not sure you want to know the answer either way.

You watched as Simon worked his way through an office building. It was late, the sun having set long ago and the temperature was frigid in the evening air. You shivered from your place tucked into a little leeway near the back exit, tucking your hands further into your sleeves.

You heard the occasional low scream through the walls. Faint, only noticeable because you were actively looking for it.

That was a while ago though. It had been quiet for the last little bit which is why it surprised you so much when the door you were standing near burst open—slamming back against the wall before bouncing back, a man stumbling out in a panic before collapsing on the little concrete landing pad. You didn't say anything as he laid there and breathed, little sobs breaking through his panting as he tried to gather himself. There was blood copiously covering him and it looks like Simon has been toying with him for a while if the knife marks are anything to go by.

After a few short moments he gathered himself enough to lift his head, pushing himself to his knees slowly, clearly in pain. You must have made some sort of noise because his head whipped around towards you as he threw himself backwards, hands coming up in front of his face in protection.

Please, please no more.

You don't say anything, you can't say anything, can only watch this grown man begin to cry where he's huddled against the building, the sounds echoing softly in the night air.

He realized quickly that you weren't the monster that had been chasing him and switches gears abruptly—begging you to call the police, to help him, to get out of here. He cycles through them all rapid-fire, not giving you a chance to respond before the door slammed open again, this time much more controlled.

You saw Simon standing there, covered in thick canvas and looming like the specter he fashioned himself after. His white mask splattered with blood only increased his frightening demeanor.

The man who had been pressed to the brickwork of the building yelped and dove for you, grabbing your hand as if to tug you with him as you ran. It was kind of sweet how he was worried about leaving you behind.

You didn't say anything as Simon walks over and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, twisting a tight fist into the fabric to more easily corral him. You stood still as he began to walk back inside, dragging the whimpering man behind him. You didn't flinch as the man looked at you with a betrayed gaze.

As the door slammed you heard the quiet wind blowing through the trees again, crickets beginning to chirp after a few moments more.

\\\

You weren't talkative on the way back to the cabin.

You didn't feel particularly bad, which is what made you feel kind of bad. You didn't even want to help when that man made it outside. It was the same thing as a car passing you on the freeway. Something that was there but didn't elicit any sort of response. He was a non-entity.

Even when he grabbed you, trying to save the both of you, he didn't endear himself to you beyond a thought. You were more excited to see Simon walking through the door—looming, menacing���than the thought of the man getting away.

Isn't it a human concept to want to keep those around you safe? What does that make you then?

Simon let you stew in peace.

\\\

You didn't go with him next time or the time after that, instead choosing to stay home with Dog. He was lonely without the both of you, you told Simon, it's not fair to leave him alone for that long.

So you stayed. And you thought. And you tried to figure out what type of person you were. Did it really matter though? Deciding your placement on a scale of how 'good' you were wasn't going to change your actions. You let him die and you felt nothing about it.

Honestly, you still felt nothing about it.

\\\

Dog has two new tricks learned by the time Simon got back—stay and fetch. Well, there's about a 50% success rate on both of them so you're not quite sure if you can claim them as tricks learned just yet. But you were optimistic.

He didn't say anything when he walked in the house. Simply came over to kiss you dirty before going to wash up. You licked your lips and nearly trailed after him before you stopped yourself.

You could at least wait until the blood is gone.

\\\

"My period is ridiculously heavy this month. I don't think I've bled this badly in years," you said miserably, thunking your head down on the table. "The cramps hurt so much," whining to Simon, unable to do anything else.

He didn't say anything as he continued to clean and sharpen his hunting knives. The now familiar smell filling your brain and turning it hazy and warm. It would be a perfect day if your insides weren't trying to become your outsides in such demand. You rocked your head to the side so you could watch him, admiring how the streaming sunlight was bouncing off his face.

He was covered liberally in scars but you never found you minded much. Not even in the beginning—he'd always been handsome in your eyes. You watched, eyes at half mast while he rasp rasp rasped the blades against the whetstone, shining where it had been doused in oil. His strong fingers and thick wrists led up to his delicious forearms. Watching the tendons flex and move while he worked the blade against the stone had you shifting in your seat, prior complaints forgotten.

As he set down a completed knife and reached for the next, you found yourself blurting out, "I want to fuck your face."

Silence.

Why did you say that? Why did you say that? You were on your period, even if you wanted to you couldn't, plus you'd never said something like that bef—

"Okay."

What?

Simon put the knife back onto the towel it had been waiting on, ready to be picked back up later. He closed the oil tin and began to push away from the table before you were able to get your thoughts in line again.

"No!"

You backtracked when he looked at you, eyebrow raised, "I mean, no we can't do that. I'm bleeding right now, I don't even know why I said it."

"It doesn't bother me."

It doesn't bother me It doesn't bother me It doesn't bother me

It kept repeating in your mind, a circling echo as you mechanically removed blankets and laid out towels on the bed. Simon was stripping off his shirt but leaving his pants on, unbuttoned over his hips. He gestured impatiently when he caught you staring, prompting you to finish pulling off your bottoms. The pad you were using plopped heavily to the floor, already saturated even though you'd replaced it less than an hour ago. You ended up pulling your top off too after a moment, feeling a bit like Winnie the Pooh with a shirt on but no pants.

With a careful crawl you made your way to the center of the bed, already feeling a trail of blood making it's way down your thigh almost to the halfway point. A gasp and a clench when Simon swats at your butt as you moved past him caused the trail to gain several inches quickly.

A final shuffle and you made it to the towels, spinning around to lay on your back, watching Simon through your spread knees. Without any further delay he planted himself flat on his front, face hovering right above your cunt.

He didn't do anything but stare at it at first—watching the blood pool in the slit, filling it until the lips couldn't contain it any more before it spilled down to be collected by the towel. You're embarrassed to admit it but him just laying there looking at you is enough to begin feeling warm, the involuntary twitching of your cunt the last straw before he slid two of his fingers in to the base in one smooth movement.

You yowled at the sudden stretch.

There was practically no drag with how much you were bleeding but the stretch was still shocking. The wet squelching immediately filled the air, Simon thrusting his fingers in deeply before dragging them out, rubbing firmly along your walls as if he was trying to scoop the blood out.

You quickly began to pant, fisting the sheets below you as you struggled to keep still. Your little aborted thrusts were mostly ignored other than the grumbled, lay still. You were mostly successful until you felt as his rough fingers grazed a sensitive spot inside causing you to arch up and away involuntarily. With a snarl, Simon had you pinned down with his free arm across your pelvis—not letting you go anywhere.

Oh! That's . . . oh.

With a shocked gasp you finished, covering Simon's hand and forearm with bloody liquid, contractions doing the work of pushing out any back-pooling of blood. With a throaty groan Simon dove in—mouth first into your cunt.

"Simon!" you yelped, only just finishing the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Be gentle, please!"

If he heard you he didn't bother acknowledging it—simply continued feasting on your bloody cunt. You looked down to see something out of a murder scene. Blood was smeared all along his cheeks almost to his ears with how it was transferring to your thighs and back onto him. You were sure you'd be finding blood in his hair once this was over.

His mouth and nose were the worst of it with vivid red so thick you couldn't see the skin in some parts. He moved up to focus on your clit, his eyes glancing up at you and you jerked when you saw pools of black—his pupils completely eclipsing the iris.

He looked crazed, like the killer he was, an insane murderer who wanted to bathe in blood.

He looked as if he were smothered in decadence.

You noticed him humping the bed right before his fingers found their way inside you again, playing you like a fiddle. He was well versed in all your buttons and he quickly brought you back up to another peak.

As your breath grew shorter and whines started to fall from your lips he groaned into your folds, his rocking hips developing a frantic pace.

He came from dry humping the bed while eating you out. Your cramps having abated along with the itch under your skin. You could stay here for ages—keep him between your legs, worshiping at your center. Nothing to be done but splay out and take the pleasure as it came.

—you could ask.

You didn't get the chance before he's diving back in, ignoring your squeal at the overwhelming sensation so soon after your orgasm. He pinned you down again as you squirm, muttering about, never get to play in it, they're always screaming, tastes so good coming from you, want your cum mixed in with it.

When Simon pulled away, you looked down to check on him. You saw him holding a bloody clot, rolling it back and forth along his fingers, squishing and manipulating it—playing with this piece that had just been inside of you.

You were coming to the realization this was going to be an every month type of thing. Maybe playing in blood wasn't so bad.

\\\

Simon didn't ask you to come with him, he simply made it clear that you were welcome.

A second bag is sitting on the table, waiting to be filled, to be used. Simon ignored it and you as he stood there packing his own. He's going to the other side of the country for this outing and would be gone for close to a week.

You watched his bag fill up, items being tucked away and placed in pockets while the second bag sat there empty and flat.

He didn't say anything when you stood next to him and packed your jacket.

It was a completely uneventful trip for you.

\\\

You'd fallen into the swing of waiting by the back door, just in case, but Simon was good about keeping everyone where they should be. It seemed after the first one he was a little hesitant about leaving you alone with one of his victims. Were you a victim too? Or were you a participant at this point?

It's warmer now—not quite the full weight of summer heat but close to it. You were staring at the closed door, wondering what you would see if you opened it and walked inside. Did you even want to see anything? What did you think you'd get out of it? Maybe you were trying to punish yourself.

You already knew what Simon did. Seeing it wouldn't change anything . . . would it? You imagined how he looked when he was in complete control and your will wavers with the dangling reward. Maybe a little peek wouldn't hurt.

You hadn't taken more than two steps before the door burst open and oh, you were doing this again weren't you?

This time it was a young woman that stumbled out. She's pretty, you noticed offhandedly, even with her torn leggings, bloody nose and mascara tear-tracked face. She saw you and immediately jerked back, smart enough to know anyone standing outside a murder building probably had something to do with the murders.

Her expression wavered as you just stood there looking at her, not saying anything. More tears spilled over her lash line as she stared back, not giving an inch.

She took one step towards freedom and you yelled.

I guess that answers the participant question.

|||

Story Repository || Main Repository

[moongothic]

Madoka is the promise you won't turn from a child, full of hopes and dreams and the wish to save the world, into a bitter adult who just wants to hurt others and ruin people's lives

Madoka promised to be there for you to remind you of the person you wanted to be and to stop you from becoming what you sought to destroy

Madoka made that promise and became the very embodiment of it

[turtleblogatlast]

One of the absolute best things about the bros is that they just. Play. They play around like the teens they are, playing ball, or video games, or anything else. They just play and have fun together, genuinely enjoying each other’s company. I dunno, I just appreciate how easy it is for them to mess around and be kids.

[calciumdreams]

and i know you can carry on

[lurkingteapot]

Every now and then I think about how subtitles (or dubs), and thus translation choices, shape our perception of the media we consume. It's so interesting. I'd wager anyone who speaks two (or more) languages knows the feeling of "yeah, that's what it literally translates to, but that's not what it means" or has answered a question like "how do you say _____ in (language)?" with "you don't, it's just … not a thing, we don't say that."

I've had my fair share of "[SHIP] are [married/soulmates/fated/FANCY TERM], it's text!" "[CHARACTER A] calls [CHARACTER B] [ENDEARMENT/NICKNAME], it's text!" and every time. Every time I'm just like. Do they though. Is it though. And a lot of the time, this means seeking out alternative translations, or translation meta from fluent or native speakers, or sometimes from language learners of the language the piece of media is originally in.

Why does it matter? Maybe it doesn't. To lots of people, it doesn't. People have different interests and priorities in fiction and the way they interact with it. It's great. It matters to me because back in the early 2000s, I had dial-up internet. Video or audio media that wasn't available through my local library very much wasn't available, but fanfiction was. So I started to read English language Gundam Wing fanfic before I ever had a chance to watch the show. When I did get around to watching Gundam Wing, it was the original Japanese dub. Some of the characters were almost unrecognisable to me, and first I doubted my Japanese language ability, then, after checking some bits with friends, I wondered why even my favourite writers, writers I knew to be consistent in other things, had made these characters seem so different … until I had the chance to watch the US-English dub a few years later. Going by that adaptation, the characterisation from all those stories suddenly made a lot more sense. And the thing is, that interpretation is also valid! They just took it a direction that was a larger leap for me to make.

Loose adaptations and very free translations have become less frequent since, or maybe my taste just hasn't led me their way, but the issue at the core is still a thing: Supernatural fandom got different nuances of endings for their show depending on the language they watched it in. CQL and MDZS fandom and the never-ending discussions about 知己 vs soulmate vs Other Options. A subset of VLD fans looking at a specific clip in all the different languages to see what was being said/implied in which dub, and how different translators interpreted the same English original line. The list is pretty much endless.

And that's … idk if it's fine, but it's what happens! A lot of the time, concepts -- expressed in language -- don't translate 1:1. The larger the cultural gap, the larger the gaps between the way concepts are expressed or understood also tend to be. Other times, there is a literal translation that works but isn't very idiomatic because there's a register mismatch or worse. And that's even before cultural assumptions come in. It's normal to have those. It's also important to remember that things like "thanks I hate it" as a sentiment of praise/affection, while the words translate literally quite easily, emphatically isn't easy to translate in the sense anglophone internet users the phrase.

Every translation is, at some level, a transformative work. Sometimes expressions or concepts or even single words simply don't have an exact equivalent in the target language and need to be interpreted at the translator's discretion, especially when going from a high-context/listener-responsible source language to a low-context/speaker-responsible target language (where high-context/listener responsible roughly means a large amount of contextual information can be omitted by the speaker because it's the listener's responsibility to infer it and ask for clarification if needed, and low-context/speaker-responsible roughly means a lot of information needs to be codified in speech, i.e. the speaker is responsible for providing sufficiently explicit context and will be blamed if it's lacking).

Is this a mouse or a rat? Guess based on context clues! High-context languages can and frequently do omit entire parts of speech that lower-context/speaker-responsible languages like English regard as essential, such as the grammatical subject of a sentence: the equivalent of "Go?" - "Go." does largely the same amount of heavy lifting as "is he/she/it/are you/they/we going?" - "yes, I am/he/she/it is/we/you/they are" in several listener-responsible languages, but tends to seem clumsy or incomplete in more speaker-responsible ones. This does NOT mean the listener-responsible language is clumsy. It's arguably more efficient! And reversely, saying "Are you going?" - "I am (going)" might seem unnecessarily convoluted and clumsy in a listener-responsible language. All depending on context.

This gets tricky both when the ambiguity of the missing subject of the sentence is clearly important (is speaker A asking "are you going" or "is she going"? wait until next chapter and find out!) AND when it's important that the translator assign an explicit subject in order for the sentence to make sense in the target language. For our example, depending on context, something like "are we all going?" - "yes" or "they going, too?" might work. Context!

As a consequence of this, sometimes, translation adds things – we gain things in translation, so to speak. Sometimes, it's because the target language needs the extra information (like the subject in the examples above), sometimes it's because the target language actually differentiates between mouse and rat even though the source language doesn't. However, because in most cases translators don't have access to the original authors, or even the original authors' agencies to ask for clarification (and in most cases wouldn't get paid for the time to put in this extra work even if they did), this kind of addition is almost always an interpretation. Sometimes made with a lot of certainty, sometimes it's more of a "fuck it, I've got to put something and hope it doesn't get proven wrong next episode/chapter/ten seasons down" (especially fun when you're working on a series that's in progress).

For the vast majority of cases, several translations are valid. Some may be more far-fetched than others, and there'll always be subjectivity to whether something was translated effectively, what "effectively" even means …

ANYWAY. I think my point is … how interesting, how cool is it that engaging with media in multiple languages will always yield multiple, often equally valid but just sliiiiightly different versions of that piece of media? And that I'd love more conversations about how, the second we (as folks who don't speak the material's original language) start picking the subtitle or dub wording apart for meta, we're basically working from a secondary source, and if we're doing due diligence, to which extent do we need to check there's nothing substantial being (literally) lost -- or added! -- in translation?

[inkyprince]

Can we please stop normalizing telling people to kys for liking things you might not like? Like... It's absolutely insane. The block button is right there... Theres blocks for tags even. Stop telling people to go die just because they don't share the same opinions.

I should also say this;

You're allowed to not like things, and that's okay! Not everything is for everyone! You are free to not want to interact with things or fandoms you don't like. I'm not saying we all have to get along. B/c that's near impossible.

Seriously. Stop telling each other to kys. Stop normalizing that shit. That's seriously not okay.

And people wonder why fandoms aren't fun anymore.

[anintroverteddarling]

TW; SLIGHTLY SUGGESTIVE(???), Im not sure but it feels like I've done smth illegal ASKDJNADSFKJADNFS

I tried to draw smth cute again but ended up looking... uh...

but then I added in

Overall, intrusive thoughts won that night help--

[aroaceleovaldez]

Jasico, particular pre-HoO Jasico, as a dynamic is inherently hilarious because it almost always inevitably results in Nico just wholesale ditching the Greeks. He's Roman now, babey! Surrounded by Romans. CHB is naught but a passing memory and he's never going back. he's got Jason he's got Hazel and Reyna and Frank and he is all set.

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 75: onehat