#i don't share :)

[loveacrossuniverses]

Maybe it's just me but do any other self shippers actively avoid content of their f/o? I never read fanfic about him because he's so so important to me and I know other people won't write him the same way I see him in my head. Fanart feels risky too.. I blacklist all the ship tags for him but I still end up seeing him with other people, and sure he looks adorable with them but it makes me feel so awful. And then I feel dumb about it. Idk if I had a point I was making here or not tbh :/

[allo-frouto]

Have you tried threesome? In case Mmf or ffm?

I haven't and I wouldn't.

[ajgrey9647]

Hand’s Off

When it came to surviving under Lord Drakkon’s tyranny, there were a few key rules that one should always abide by. Obviously, you wanted to keep your head down, do your job, and not draw any unnecessary attention to yourself. Even drawing Drakkon’s notice for a successful endeavor was unwise; when you inevitably fucked up, the warlord ensured you were thoroughly fucked.

There was another very important tenant you wanted to keep front and center:

Never, ever put your dirty paws on Drakkon’s property. Don’t even dream it.

Three Red Sentries had become too complacent in their roles as Drakkon’s higher ranking guards. They were envious of their master’s decadent and lavish lifestyle and it wasn’t just the material possessions they coveted. There was a great deal of mystique surrounding the grey-haired man who accompanied Drakkon around the palace.

The man was lithely built, the black and grey silk caressing his powerful lean muscle. One of the men remarked that the mute man reminded him of a champion racehorse. He was enticingly compliant and subservient to Drakkon’s demands, typically shadowing the tyrant behind his right shoulder.

When asked about this mysterious prisoner, none of the other Sentries would elaborate on his history. The man’s name had been forbidden years ago and once he had been broken, Drakkon created this spooky human-pet. That’s all that needed to be said, according to the older guards. Best to leave history in the past.

The trio watched the man discreetly over the coming weeks, waiting for an opening to play with their master’s puppy. It appeared that there would never be an opportunity as Drakkon always present. Frustrated, they had grumbled amongst themselves how unfair it was that the tyrant kept all the good stuff for himself.

Then one chilly October day, the timing was perfect. Lord Drakkon had abruptly departed the palace on an excursion to dismantle a disruptive cell of Coinless that had been vexing him for some time; they had earned his personal attention. He departed in the early morning, leaving his pet behind to wait for his return.

Once the Sentries were sure the tyrant was no longer in residence, they tracked the man known only as Red to the throne room. Pushing the heavy double doors open, they entered the chilly, dimly lit room where Red knelt on his knees beside the large stone chair. The trio grinned at each other evilly as they secured the door tightly shut.

“Here, boy!” the ringleader called, patting his thigh and whistling. “Good boy!”

Red lifted his head slightly, one dark eye glittering ferally, the hazy blueish white one even appeared ominous. He made no moved to comply with the order or even get up.

“Get over here now!” the Sentry commanded sharply, pointing to the floor in front of the group.

Now, Red’s lip lifted in a snarl and he growled in warning. But the men didn’t care. They descended quickly on the odd prisoner, hands grabbing at his hair, his clothes, touching him intimately, commenting on his body.

“Don’t be such a frigid bitch,” one scolded. “We just want to play with you.”

“Yeah,” another added. “We’ll be much nicer to you than Drakkon.”

“He does have a gorgeous ass, doesn’t he,” another cooed, his fingers teasing along the taut muscle.

Red continued to shove their hands away before a fist slammed into his face, stunning him. His uniform ripped under the demanding tugging; the sound of the silk tearing almost sickening. The attackers attempted to pin him to the floor, arguing who would get the first go.

Roaring with fury, Red easily tossed the Sentries to the ground, surprising them. He pulled himself to his feet and, head lowered, eyes locked on the three men, he advanced angrily. He was a frightening figure, like a rabid dog circling them.

Too late, it became apparent that Red was just as cuckoo as his master.

When Drakkon returned to his palace that evening after a successful squashing of Coinless resistance, he frowned at the inability to open the doors to his throne room. Who in theee fuck thought they would lock him out of one of his own rooms? With sudden energy, Drakkon kicked the doors open; they splintered under the powerful blow.

“Goddammit, what the fuck happened here? Red?” he bellowed, looking around at the bright splashes of blood congealing on the walls and rugs, oddly shaped objects scattered across the floor.

It took a moment before he recognized that he was standing in the midst of a disemboweled body or, more accurately, bodies. Arms, legs, intestines, brain matter smeared almost the entirety of the entryway where the victims had attempted to escape whatever demon set upon them.

“Master?” a hoarse voice rasped.

Red knelt at his customary place beside Drakkon’s throne. His hair was disheveled, his beautiful uniform ripped, and blood had dried around his mouth. It also soaked his arms and chest where he had ripped into the unwitting prey.

Drakkon briskly darted towards his obedient pet.

“What in the hell went on in my throne room?” he demanded.

He motioned with his hand for Red to stand and gave another command.

“Look at me,” he said firmly.

Red’s face showed exhaustion and confusion, but he looked lovingly at his owner.

“Forgive me for making such a mess, master. I’ll clean it up promptly.”

His eyes glanced to the other side of the room where the body of a man was propped against the wall. Red nodded towards him and explained to Drakkon what had occurred in his absence.

“Those men broke in here. They were grabbing at me, to play with me. I knew they shouldn’t be touching me without your knowledge. When they wouldn’t stop, I made them stop,” he whispered.

A low groan came from the direction of where the man, the ringleader, had crumpled. Drakkon’s brow raised in appreciation.

“I see you saved one for me, my good boy,” he grinned.

Red nodded and replied, “He was the instigator, master.”

Drakkon’s heavy boots caught the Sentry’s attention as the tyrant approached. He knelt in the man’s face and screamed venomously.

“I never did learn to share, motherfucker! Who told you that you could touch him? Put your disgusting hands on my good boy? You and I are going on a little walk!”

He grabbed the man in his strong grip and hauled him to his feet by the neck.

“Come along! It’s getting dark out and our audience won’t get to witness your punishment adequately.”

He gave a sharp whistle and immediately a Yellow Sentry appeared in the doorway.

“My lord?” she asked in confusion, noting the gore covering the grand room.

“Gather the other Sentries. All the colors. I want them in the courtyard this minute. Drop everything and get their ass over there. We need to make something crystal fucking clear to those fuckheads!”

The Red Sentry groaned in Drakkon’s gloved grip and gestured to the Yellow.

“Help me,” he croaked, extending a broken arm towards her.

Before he knew what was happing, the warlord’s hand snared his jaw and, with a flick of his wrist, snapped the bone at the joints. The Sentry tried to scream and could only heave with the pain.

“Shut your goddamn mouth, you foolish sack of shit!” he snarled.

“I’ll gather them right away, my lord,” the obedient Sentry responded fearfully.

When she departed, Drakkon turned towards Red, who stood at attention again, head bowed. He looked dead on his feet, the fight and the raging had taken a lot out of him.

“Go into my private chambers, Red, and wash up. I’ll allow you to wear some of my bedclothes while I have more uniforms made. Wait beside my bed until I come for you,” he ordered.

Red nodded and limped noticeably to the door; the brawl had aggravated his weaker knee. Drakkon’s eyes narrowed as he watched Red obey.

“Now then, you putrid meat sack, let’s go have a discussion on touching other people’s property.”

An hour passed as Red waited meekly beside his master’s large four poster bed. His thick hair was still damp and he relished the feel of the expensive material of the bedclothes against his unworthy flesh. He’d never felt anything so comfortable.

When Drakkon returned, he was grinning his ominous possum smile, pupils almost black with the thrill of this newest fuckery.

“Come, my good boy. I have something to show you,” he cooed.

Submissively, Red followed his master out of the palace into the courtyard.

No one else appeared to be around. Drakkon continued toward a patch of earth that had recently been disturbed. There was an odd stick-like projection jutting at an odd angle into the air.

“Listen,” Drakkon hushed, putting a finger to his lips.

Very faintly, Red could just barely make out a terrified scream broken up by intermittent unintelligible begging.

“Hear that?” the tyrant grinned, showing sharp teeth.

He kicked a white boot at the dirt pile and laughed evilly.

“No one will ever touch you without my permission again,” Drakkon vowed, as he turned towards Red and stroked his cheek.

[kandr98]

It's gotta be all mine 🤭✨

if anyone can have it, i don’t want it

[lgbtlunaverse]

The world exists in such a baffling state of simultaneous sex-aversion and sex-hegemony. Every social platform on the internet is trying to banish sex workers to the shadow realm but I can't post a tweet without at least two bots replying P U S S Y I N B I O. People are self-censoring sex to seggs and $3× but every other ad you see is still filled with half-naked women. Rightwingers want queer people arrested for so much as existing in the same postal code as a child and are also drumming up a moral panic about how teenage boys aren't getting laid enough. I feel like I'm losing my mind.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The math just adds up!

[oneriderratbug101]

There is a mouse in my apartment. I use a non-lethal mousetrap, so there are no near misses. It's either caught, or it's not. And I swear to whatever you believe in, I feel like I am dealing with a supergenius. Some real Pinky and the Brain type shit out here. I am quite literally in an abhorrently stressful game of cat and mouse with this devious bastard and I grow more furious by the minute. This mouse has balls of steel, and I am growing to believe the concept of fear is foreign to this particular rodent. No area or time is unacceptable to it. No light level too high. I'm right here? It doesn't care. The absolute worst part of this is that somehow, because fuck me I guess, the mouse keeps.... evading all attempts to capture it, AND GETTING AWAY WITH THE BAIT???? I AM HAVING MY FOOD AND RESOURCES AND TIME ABSOLUTELY STOLEN BY THIS RODENT RAPSCALLION AND IT TAUNTS ME!!!! IT INSISTS ON TAUNTING ME!!!!!! POKING AROUND WHILE WE LOCK EYES AND JUST GIVING ME THE MOUSE MIDDLE FINGER !!!!! I HAVE CHANGED THE WAY I SET UP THE TRAP THRICE NOW AND NONE OF MY ENGANCEMENTS OR UPGRADES WORKED

I AM AT AN ABSOLUTE LOSS

THIS MOUSE IS ONE MORE BAD NIGHT AWAY FROM ME TAKING THE NON OUT OF NON-LETHAL I SWEAR, NO OTHER MOUSE HAS EVADED ME WITH THIS LEVEL OF SUCCESS I AM losing my MIND AAAAAAA

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

Yesterday marked the 100th day of genocide. Please, do not get used to this. Our people, killed, bombed, kidnapped, stripped, executed and starved is not normal. Our kids in pieces, their body parts collected in bags is not normal.

Israel has killed 23,700 human. More than 10,300 child. We'd need 177 school bus to carry the Palestinian children killed by Israel in gaza. 10,022 fatherless child. 8,352 motherless child. The wounded have their wounds rot and die waiting in front of the crossing. Maggots seen inside alive people's wounds. 5,500 pregnant woman will give birth in the upcoming weeks. 100 Days of Genocide. 100 Days of the world watching silently.

[bixels]

me too, luna.

[jaysgirlx]

jason baby, one chance please…

dick grayson who would absolutely love to tie you up vs jason todd who goes i can restrain your cute ass with one hand, wtf i need rope for?

[sarcosmiiic]

PLEASE KEEP THIS IN MIND:

we, as fans, do not have a right to private information. anything shared with us on this is a privilege. please do not abuse it. the cc's could shut down and never talk about it if we overwhelm them.

also, please keep in mind that ONE HERMIT and THE ENTIRETY OF HERMITCRAFT are NOT THE SAME THING. the entire fandom is not 'ruined' or 'completely unsafe' because of the actions of one person.

PLEASE DO NOT ASSUME THAT THE OTHER HERMITS KNEW ANYTHING ABOUT WHATEVER'S GOING ON WITH ISKALL. this is not some big conspiracy, it's the consequences of one person's actions. they weren't hiding this from us, that's not how hermitcraft works, they truly didn't know. they probably knew as much as us about this, so making it an 'us against them' situation is immature and shortsighted.

ALSO, I AM BEGGING EVERYONE TO PLEASE NOT SENSATIONALIZE THIS. PLEASE DO NOT TURN HATING ISKALL INTO A MEME OR A JOKE.

mcyt'ers being revealed to be less-than-great people is not a rare thing, sadly, but i've seen it turned into a joke/meme/trend in other fandoms. this both minimalizes the actual people's/victims' struggles, makes the entire situation feel less serious than it is, especially to outsiders looking in, and makes everyone in the fandom look immature, petty, unable to take anything seriously, and genuinely harmful.

this server, fandom, and community are not dying, it is not ruined forever, this is one (major, i'm not trying to minimalize it) issue that we're currently dealing with. it will be okay. we will move on. this is not the beginning of the end. please calm down. i love this fandom, god bless all of you. <3

edit: doc has said on stream that we will likely get more information as time passes. like i said, this is a PRIVILEGE. we are not OWED information. please be grateful for what we're given, and POLITELY ask questions if you must. if a cc doesn't give you the answer you want, or doesn't answer at all, LEAVE THEM ALONE. THIS IS NOT AN EXCUSE TO HARASS PEOPLE. the hermits are likely just as stressed out as us, if not probably more so, so please keep that in mind when contacting them.

don't freak out, we'll be okay, this is not the end of the world, nor is it the end of Hermitcraft. we will be okay.

second edit: please remember that (at least as far as we know) ISKALL AND STRESS WERE NOT KICKED OR BANNED. THEY LEFT OF THEIR OWN VOLITION.

ALSO!!! VERY IMPORTANT!!!

WE. DO. NOT. KNOW. EXACTLY. WHAT. HAPPENED.

PLEASE DO NOT ASSUME ANYTHING SIMPLY BASED OFF OF OTHER MCYT'ERS PAST ACTIONS/SCANDALS. WE DO NOT KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED. WE MIGHT NOT EVER KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED. WE NEED TO BE OKAY WITH THAT AND NOT DRAW OUR OWN CONCLUSIONS.

TWITTER LINKS TO VICTIM RESPONSES:

https://twitter.com/Kasszi_/status/1860670647946604985

https://twitter.com/emoslab_/status/1860697161245323559

[goldensunset]

people who go through the main tags of big and tumultuous fandoms looking for new fresh good posts to reblog are essential to any circle. they’re like true hunter gatherers leaving the safety of settlement and braving the unknown wilderness to find food for the flock. they risk their lives every day and will come back with a few scratches at best and severe psychological damage at worst

[robotclownindulgence]

I'm feeling kinda mean atm so i'm just gonna say it

This kind of boring-ass squeaky-clean "safe" artstyle is the worst trend in western animation of the last decade and the sooner it dies out the better

[apollos-olives]

before october 7th this blog was a meme page btw.

[iamanartichoke]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -

I am fine with "the audience" -

downloading my fics

printing my fics

copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics

sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3

making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss

doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc

I am not fine with "the audience"

doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity

feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever

Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.

Enjoy the fandom things.