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juneknight · 2 years ago

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obsessed || 2

Part One

About this: college au. dorm room!marc/fem!reader. Oral sex (f receiving) No I don't edit or proofread my works, thanks for asking!

Immersivity: reader is given no overt physical description and no name. Details about her figure/body could be assumed based on the fact that she wears a pair of Marc's stollen pajama pants. It is referenced that she comes from a sex-negative household. Any further details which hinder your immersive experience are welcome to be pointed out to me.

That’s how he gets you sitting ramrod straight on the center cushion of the couch, knees pressed so tightly together that not even the holy ghost could come between them, both hands covering your face. Marc sits cross legged at your feet, laughing at you. With your eyes covered, he can let his face relax from its cold, neutral expression into one of mesmerized fondness. You have that effect on him. You melt him into something liquid and soft.

God, he’s a fucking idiot. It’s hard enough living with you now; how is he meant to go on the way things have been once he’s had a taste of you? How is he supposed to listen to you gargle in the bathroom knowing he’s had his mouth on you? His excuse—being pent up and craving pussy—is thin enough for him to see through. Marc’s been jerking off plenty enough at night (and in the shower, and anytime you’re in class and he has the dorm room to himself), and he’s had a handful of opportunities that could have opened the door for sex though he hadn’t followed through with them.

Because he wants you.

“Come on,” he says, tapping your shin. His eyes linger on the way his pajama pants fit you. You don’t even fucking know what it does to him to see you prancing around in his clothes. With your eyes covered, he feels safe enough to reach down and palm his cock which is aching beneath the denim of his jeans. The little bit of friction helps and hurts all at once. “Spread ‘em.”

“I’m shy,” you bark at him.

The naivete would be a turn off if he didn’t know you better. In the majority of situations, you’re far from inexperienced, and he has never known you to be shy in the classroom or at parties. But after many nights similar to this (spent talking about anything and everything), he knows that you grew up in a household where sex was viewed very particularly. Those long-ingrained doctrines have been difficult to unlearn, no matter how much you want to.

“Hey,” he says. “Just be honest with me. Don’t say yes just because you think I want to. If you don’t want to, then I don’t want to.”

You lower your hands. “It’s not that I don’t want…to. I’m just scared.”

Scared. Marc tends to have that effect on people; he’s been told that he’s too deadpan, too intense, too cold. You aren’t the only one holding on to a less than stellar childhood. Even though you had skirted a safe perimeter around him for the first few days you’d shared classes together, you’d been quick to see something in him that others hadn’t. Something that Marc didn’t even see in himself. Always though the fear comes creeping in, the fear that you’re afraid of him.

He has to know—whether it hurts or not, he has to know. “What are you scared of, baby? Me? Me…accidentally hurting you like that last guy did?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. His shoulders lower but jaw remains tight. He isn’t sure if he believes you. “I know that you wouldn’t hurt me. And you’re probably a lot more careful than that other guy was. I guess I just…don’t know what you’re getting out of it. What if you think I’m disgusting?”

“I literally spent fifteen minutes earlier waxing poetry about eating pussy. If you think I’m not going to thoroughly enjoy myself, then you’re wrong, and for what it’s worth—you could never disgust me.” Honest, too honest, Marc, some voice warns from the back of his mind. He lifts one hand to let it rest below your knee, gently clasping your shin. “If you want it, I want it. Let me make this good for you.”

You let out a shaky sigh. His heart pounds when, marginally, your knees begin to open. Marc lets his thumb drift down from the top of your knee down and inward, breaching the newly open space and rubbing your leg softly through the flannel pajama pants. “Okay. What should I do?”

“You should probably take your pants off.” Then, he thinks about it. “No, wait, just stand up. Let me take them off of you.”

Then you’re standing, calves pressed against the couch cushions when Marc doesn’t move back to give you any room. He’s eye level with the crotch of your pajamas. Glancing up at you, he’s surprised to see your eyes already on him, wide and unblinking, staring down at him with something akin to amazement. The moment is almost enough to make his head spin. Here he is, on his knees for you, about to undress you and put his mouth on you.

His hands come up and rest at your waist, thumbing at your hips until he sinks his fingertips over and beneath the waistband of the pajama pants. He lets his fingers brush against the top elastic band of your panties and you shiver above him.

And god help him. God help him because—

“Remember when I said that when a woman is really wet, you can smell her?” he rasps, pulling his thumb free to trace a vertical line from the waistband down towards the top of your mound, stopping just centimeters above where your clit must be. Feeling like he’s about to be torn apart, Marc leans in and nuzzles against the crotch of your pants. He inhales sharply the smell of you. The smell of you wet for him. “Fuck, I love it. Fuck, fuck. Can I take these off?”

You nod, but that isn’t the enthusiasm he wants.

“Can you say it?”

You clear your throat. “Yes. You can take them off.”

With all the care of handling crystal, he peels them from your hips and slips them down your thighs, eyes tracing the newly exposed skin before zeroing in on your panties. They are a pale lilac, cute and sensible compared to some of the other pairs he’s seen in the laundry hamper on the rare occasion that he lifts the lid to put his own clothes inside. He clenches his jaw trying to hold himself back from leaning in and pulling your panties down with his fucking teeth. Gentler than he feels, he guides your hips back until you sit heavily on the couch. With care, he slips the pants off of your feet and brushes them aside, kneeling up onto his knees and then resting back on his heels.

“Open up,” he murmurs, staring at your cloth-covered cunt. “Spread your legs for me.”

You do. As soon as your knees spread just a few handbreadths apart, Marc groans, a punched-out sound. The crotch of your panties are soaked a darker purple, clinging to your cunt so that his eyes can just barely trace your folds.

“Holy fuck, look at you,” he says. “You’re so fucking wet, aren’t you? Look at this.”

Both of your hands fly up to cover your eyes. He makes an unhappy sound in the back of his throat. You crack open your fingers an inch so you can look down at his raised brow. “Don’t hide from me. I want to see your face. It will help me know if I’m doing something wrong. Or something right.”

Fighting what must be your instinctual urge to hide, you lower your hands to your sides and clench them into tight fists. You’re being so brave for him, for yourself. Marc drags his palms up and down the sides of your calves, relishing the cool softness of your skin and trying to ease your tense muscles.

“Tell me what he did wrong,” Marc says, breath fanning across your bare thighs. “How did it hurt? I don’t want to do anything that might hurt you.”

“‘m sensitive,” you grumble.

Marc breathes a laugh. “Yeah, it’s your pussy, I bet it’s sensitive. How sensitive, though? Was it too much when he was using his tongue? Or was he using his teeth?”

“The tongue was fine,” you say, speaking about it the way you might a mediocre appetizer you’ve been served at a restaurant. Marc holds his jealousy in a tightly closed fist. Now isn’t the time to be jealous of some young boy who couldn’t even make you feel good. Now is Marc’s turn. “But he—oh my god, I hate you, I can’t say this shit out loud Marc.”

“Tell me,” he murmurs, unable to help leaning in to press the softest kiss against your knee. Your chest hitches at the contact, a movement his eyes track but his mind doesn’t understand.

“He was…”

“Was…”

“Sucking on me. On my clit. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t so anxious. If I was turned on like, at all.”

“Consider it noted,” Marc says, refusing to pat his own back by pointing out how turned on you seem right now. Then with gentle pressure (to give you plenty a chance to refuse him) he coaxes you to spread your thighs wide and then wider.

“Shouldn’t I take off my underwear?” you ask.

“Not if you might be too sensitive,” says Marc. “Come here. Slouch down.”

You shift around, but not nearly low enough for his liking. So he slips his hands beneath you, cupping your ass and pulling until your cunt is at the edge of the couch, inches from his waiting mouth. The squeal you give has him pursing his lips to keep from laughing. His strength always seems to surprise you.

Gazing up at you, he waits for you to nod before he turns his head and lays a soft kiss on the tender skin inside your thigh. Above him, you exhale shakily. The feeling of your skin beneath his lips has his head buzzing. He begins dragging his mouth upwards, his kisses growing ever-more open mouthed until he is blatantly tasting your skin. His eyes flicker shut as he inhales noisily, the scent of your arousal making his cock twitch. He switches thighs.

A sound slips through the back of your throat, something high and breathy. A whine. Marc’s eyes flash open at the sound, flickering all across your face for any hint of pain. But he doesn’t find it. If anything, you look fucked out: mouth parted, eyes heavy lidded. He hasn’t even fucking touched you.

I can do this, he thinks. I can make you feel good.

He softly sucks blood to the surface of your skin until you can’t seem to sit still, thighs tensing beneath his mouth. When he opens his eyes, your panties are even wetter. Enough teasing the both of you, he thinks. He shifts and drags the tip of his curved nose up the seam of your clothed cunt, nudging so softly against the apex.

“Oh my god,” you mutter above him, sounding about as wrecked as some of his past partners did when he was already finished with them.

He’s losing it. He can feel it, the threads of his control fraying beneath the sharp edges of his desire for you. Never does he think that he wouldn’t be able to stop if you asked him to or if you gave any indication that you weren’t enthusiastically enjoying his work, but he wants to make sure that you know you’re in control. You’re in control of him, no matter how consumed he appears.

“If you want me to stop, you say the fucking word okay?” he rasps. His lips brush against your underwear and come away faintly sticky with slick. He doesn’t even let himself lick it from his lips, not yet. “And if I’m not stopping fast enough for your liking, gouge my goddamn eyes out, you hear me?”

He waits until you give a frantic bob of your head. Then he licks the flat of his tongue up the soaked crotch of your panties. It’s hard to tell who groans loudest. You taste good. His jaw aches the way it does when he sucks on something sweet, mouth salivating. He laps at you again and again, careful not to be too forceful. Your thighs clench tight around his head and he has to pull them away and pin them open wide to the couch so that he can move the way he wants to.

“Is—am I—” Marc begrudgingly opens his eyes to see you struggling to speak. He struggles to keep his gaze on you. The taste of you in his mouth, the feel of your warm skin beneath his hands, the serenity of this moment all has his eyes wanting to roll back. It takes a herculean effort to pull his mouth from you, to lay his head on your thigh taking deep breaths through his nose while waiting for you to collect your thoughts. You finally manage to ask: “Am I—gross?”

Marc blinks. “Are you gross? Baby who the hell hurt you?”

It’s your turn to blink down at him. “What?”

“Who in the fuck has put you so deep inside your head that you can’t see I’m sixty seconds away from cumming in my pants because you taste so fucking good? Because you smell so fucking good? Because you sound so fucking good? You know what. Don’t answer that—” Marc reaches backwards towards the coffee table, finding the flier he’d written on earlier: HOMETOWN DICK is scrawled there. He slaps it on the couch cushion beside you along with the capless pen. “—write it down if you can and I’ll get to them later.”

He lets saliva pool on his tongue before his next lick of you. Between his spit and your own slick, your thighs are wet and sticky, panties soaked. He can’t help but reach up to tug upwards at the waistband just a bit, just so the fabric rides up flush against your pussy so he can see every last curve and fold of you. The stimulation of the fabric must feel good because you whine—honest to god whine, your pelvis giving the most adorable little arches as you try to decide whether to press into the stimulation or press away from it so that his hand draws the fabric against you tighter.

Marc has to let go to keep your thighs spread as they try to creep in closer to his ears. His eyes are shut as he laps at you with long, firm strokes, alternating directions, doing his best to be gentle in case you’re as sensitive as you think. Periodically he glances up to make sure you’re okay, and that is when he notices the way your hands are clenched into fists, shaking with the force you’re using to keep them still. He reaches out. Your fingers are cool beneath his, and at the first touch, your hand opens up, blossoming like a flower so he can lace your fingers together. He smiles against your pussy—he hadn’t intended to hold hands, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to turn it down.

“Put your hands in my hair,” he says. He gently shakes his head from side to side letting the flat of his tongue rub against your clit. Your gasp makes your chest heave, fingers clamping down around his. Fuck, yes. You just need something you can pull on. “C’me on, baby, you can get rough with me.”

Your eyes are wet, wide as you shakily move your hands to his hair. The feel of your fingers in his curls is divine. His lashes flutter. “Yeah?” you breathe. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me, baby, I love it, okay?”

You tug a little. His cock jerks where it’s still confined in denim. “But what if you need to breathe?”

“Don’t care,” he says. “Drown me in your pussy, I do not fucking care. Okay?”

“Ma-arc,” you whine, thighs spasming. “God Marc, please—”

He groans, pausing to lap at your thighs, to clean up the mess he’s making. “Please what, baby? I’ll give you anything, just ask for it.”

“Just—don’t stop, please—”

And he doesn’t. He has no plans to. Not when his scalp is alight with the way you pull at every new movement of his tongue, not when you’re so fucking vocal, whining his name and little pleas and nonsensical strings of words that will forever echo in his brain. He doesn’t know how you manage to touch yourself so quietly at night when you think he’s asleep, when the only indications he gets that you’re touching yourself at all are the little shifts of the bed, the way you hold your breath before you cum, and (sometimes, on nights when you must be really, really worked up) the occasional wet sound of your fingers slipping over your clit.

“Marc, ‘m gonna cum,” you gasp.

Marc’s heart stutters in his chest. He finds one of his hands lowering, aching to press a finger or two inside of you so that he can feel the clench of your pussy when he pushes you over the edge. But that’s just another good reason why he left your panties on; the last thing he needs is to push your boundaries in the heat of the moment, to lose his head and maybe take a liberty that would hurt you. He lets his thumb press against your soaked panties though, notching itself against your entrance even through the fabric. His jaw aches, legs numb from where he’s kneeling on them, but nothing could stop him now. Nothing.

He focuses on the aching little knot of your clit, letting his tongue rasp over it until your back bows off of the couch, your breath stuttering and then stopping altogether the way he’s already so familiar with. Your fingers spasm in his hair, nearly losing your grip and then you’re pulling him closer, his nose pressed into your pubic bone, thighs shivering and shaking while you give a short cry.

You came. You are cumming. Because of him. For him. He can feel the way your entrance spasms beneath the firm press of his thumb, and he lets himself imagine how that would feel around his cock. There’s no harm in just thinking about it. If thinking it were a sin, Marc’s soul would be lost long ago.

Just as he expects you to come down, he finds you doing the opposite.

“Don’t stop, don’t don’t, please, I can cum again—can I? Please—”

Marc lets out a broken moan, nodding his head. Fuck it does things to him, hearing you beg, hearing you ask him for permission, like he has more of a say when you cum than you do. But you are pushing him back suddenly, and he jerks away as if he has been burned, eyes wide—had he had a time-slip? Had he missed something, some indication that you really wanted him to stop and not continue?

But all you do is shift your hips up, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your panties and wrenching them down over your thighs, knees, tossing them to the side. He pulls his eyes away from where he’s dying to let them rest so that he can look at your face: damp at your temples, lips swollen from biting them. Your chest is heaving, and out of the corner of his eye he sees your hands clutch into fists again, suddenly anxious, exposed—

Exposed for him. Because you wanted to be. Because you chose to be.

Marc lets his eyes fall, takes in your swollen pussy, slick with your own cum, and not to get fucking philosophical, but he’s pretty sure that it’s going to change his life. He wants it. He wants his mouth on it. He finds himself being drawn in like your pussy is a fucking siren and he’s ready to dash his ship on the fucking rocks just to drown in it happily. He barely manages to stop himself at the last moment.

“Can I?” he rasps.

“Please,” you groan.

He swipes his tongue from your entrance to your clit. Your taste is so much more concentrated like this, a little salt and a little sweet. He can’t help but press his tongue inside you as deep as your pussy will allow, his head nearly spinning when he feels the way you clench down softly, like you’re trying to keep him inside you. Then there is a sharp tug of his hair as you drag him back upwards a fraction.

“My clit, please, pleasepleaseplease—”

His eyes nearly roll. Fuck, he loves when you’re a little bossy. He loves when you’re confident, loves to see you chasing what feels good without letting your insecurities get in the way. He takes your clit between his lips and sucks sweetly, letting his tongue flicker over it. Only a few moments have passed since your last orgasm, and it’s clear that you’re heading towards another with the way your nails dig into his scalp, your breaths coming more and more stuttered. Beneath your breath, all you can repeat is fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck.

This time when you cum, you shriek. The volume of it clearly surprises you because it sends you into trilling peels of laughter that have him grinning even as he struggles to focus on prolonging your pleasure, letting his teeth graze over you just to see the way your laughter cuts off and your back arches, a gasp pulled from deep within your chest.

“Holy fuck, Marc,” you gasp wetly. “Oh my god. I want to go for a third. Can I?”

“Fuck, you’re one of those girls,” he laughs breathily. “And you thought you were too sensitive. Yeah, baby. Three for three sounds good.”

This time his jaw just can’t keep up. You don’t seem to mind when braces a hand against your lower tummy and lets his thumb rub the slick little nub. The exhaustion of your all-nighter has clearly caught up to the both of you. He nearly loses himself watching the way your thighs go lax, utterly relaxed in your pleasure. Your head tilts on your neck like you can’t keep it up straight. Your lashes rest against your cheeks as you breathe out his name and ask so fucking sweetly, would you put a finger in me?

“Need something to clench down on?” Marc wonders, resting his head on your thigh. “Is your poor little pussy empty?”

“Uh-huh,” is all you can whisper back. “Feels good to have someth’n inside when I cum.”

“I’ll bet it does,” he whispers back. Gently, so gently, he eases a finger into you. You’re burning hot, slick and soft. Your orgasms have you so relaxed around him, he immediately knows that you could take another of his fingers. Two seems to offer you the stretch you want, because your shoulders sag in relief, walls clenching around him.

When you cum for the last time, Marc gets to feel it. Wrung dry as you are, your pussy does nothing but give soft little spasms around his fingers as he flexes them and rubs the slick textured walls inside you. Your thighs twitch, a low whine rising in the back of your throat as he overstimulates you. But he can’t help it. He wants every last moment of your pleasure. He wants to commit every moment to memory in case this is all he ever gets from you, in case after graduation you move away and it’s all he has left of you.

When Marc pulls his fingers free, he doesn’t hesitate to tuck them into his mouth and suck them clean. Your eyes are shut, head reclining back against the couch, thighs still spread as far as he forced them open. Your poor pussy looks so sensitive, so fucked out and fucked open by him.

The need rises up in him, a tsunami wave that blocks out the sun. He’s been ignoring his cock for so long—during what is without question the most amazing sexual experience of his life, no less—and now the desperation becomes almost a frenzy. He has to get to the bathroom so that he can jerk off, posthaste. He doesn’t care if it’s improper, doesn’t care if it’s all too obvious to you what he’s doing.

Marc stumbles away from you on his knees, palms hitting the floor to keep himself balanced. He catches sight of his fingers, still wet from where he had sucked them clean, and a sound slips from the back of his throat: high and desperate. The little movement he’s made has brushed his cock against the denim and pushed him incrementally closer to that edge.

“Marc?”

The bathroom is right there—

“Marc—”

—he can see it, see the door cracked open, see the silly little night light you put in there, the one that keeps him from constantly banging his hip on the sharp edge of the sink—

“Marc.”

He has stopped his forward movement, he realizes. He has fallen to one elbow, his other hand fumbling at the button of his jeans, but his fingers are clumsy and exhausted and shaking with how badly he needs to cum, so he just says fuck it, just reaches down and rubs himself over the denim. The attention after so much neglect has him gasping wetly. He let himself lower the last few inches until he is laying on the floor, lets himself tip onto his back until he is looking up at the cheap fluorescent lighting doing his to jerk himself off through the restrictive denim—

And he sees you, sitting upright on the couch with your eyes on him, face slack.

Yeah, he cums. Right then, looking at you, at the haze in your eyes and the hair plastered to your forehead. He cums so hard his eyes roll back, cums so hard that it hurts, cums so hard that he knows a little piece of his soul slips out of his body and will forever rest there in Dorm Room E12. There will be a monument there, useless though no less momentous for it, like Plymouth Rock or the Liberty Bell. It will let future generations know that this is where Marc Spector saw God.

He lays there on the floor panting. Slowly your face comes into view above him. You’ve tugged your pants back on.

“Are you…okay?” you ask.

He holds up his thumb.

The smile you give him is wobbly, and the next ten minutes the two of you spend cleaning up the apartment (after Marc ducks into the bathroom and changes his pants, thanks) are painful with how quiet you are. When you crawl into bed, you pull the blankets up so high that all he can see is your hair, facing the wall.

Maybe he should have known that this would happen. Common sense could have forewarned him that eating out your best friend might lead to some internal conflict. While it was happening, he would have told himself that no matter the consequences, it was worth it, but now he isn’t sure. He crosses to his bed, sheds his shirt, and is just about to slip between the sheets when he sees it: a neat little folded square of pale purple fabric, tucked just beneath the edge of his pillow. He pulls your panties free and clutches them in one fist, heart pounding. It had to have been an accident—except it couldn’t have been. You must not have done it on purpose—but then how could you have done it at all? He brings them up to his face and smells the scent of your slick. They’re still damp, for fuck’s sake.

“Here lies Marc Spector,” he mutters. He tucks the panties beneath his pillow, mind already spinning about the implication of them. Already determined that he’ll give them back when they’re pried from his cold dead hands. Just as he pulls the sheets over himself, he sees the glow of the sun strike the wall through the window with the broken slat blinds. He plans to watch the sunlight move across the wall as it rises, but falls asleep within an instant.

#marc spector x reader

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hoziercriespower · 7 months ago

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I'm tired of people pretending Taylor Swift is a better song writer than Hozier. Florence should have collabed with him instead.

Usually I'd just ignore things like this but either you've been spamming me with similiar messages or there's a small group of people that seems to think I'm in change of Florence's collaboration process. Believe me, if I were, I'd have been asking for a Hozier / Florence collab for years like so many others, but she's a grown woman capable of making her own choices. If she wants to collab with Taylor, she's fully entitled to. This also doesn't mean she can't ever collaborate with Andrew just because she's made a song with Taylor.

Comparing two artists that are vastly different but equally as driven by the work they do and create doesn't make sense to me. Hozier isn't trying to be Taylor and Taylor isn't trying to be Hozier. They can exist within the same universe without people pitting them against each other. Talent is subjective. What you might be pleasant to your ears could be torture to another. They're both good at what they do and you can't take that from either of them. Just because they're both known for their writing doesn't mean one's ability overides the other. They exist in difference spaces.

Andrew has made it clear (even in very recent interviews) that he isn't making music for radio play. He makes music tackling difficult subject matters, which to some people is a lot to consume. Some people either can't or don't want to connect with it. That's okay. He's made peace with that and has always know that's not his target demographic anyway. He doesn't want people to listen to his songs if it doesn't resonate with them and he isn't going to stop making hard hitting songs because they're not hitting the chats. This doesn't mean people don't regard him as a great song-writer.

Taylor, on the other hand has built her career of relatability. The majority of people that listen to her now are people that grew up listening to her when she was young. They grew up with her and so their milestones often intertwine. Her stories resonate with others and it's easy to swallow because most people expierence the same thing. She's been questioned so many times during her career that she constantly feels like she has to prove herself, so she wants to validation of the charts. She's never hidden that. So maybe she's given more attention to her writing ability, but that's because her music is more widely spread.

Ultimately, Florence is clearly happy with her decision and maybe one day we could get a Florence and Hozier collab we so desperately want. That doesn't mean other artists need to be bashed in order for this to happen. You can not like the collab, you can not like Taylor, but please don't use me as a device to spread negative opinions on another artist. That's not what I'm about. I just want to post Hozier content since I noticed a distinct lack of it showing up on tumblr.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #taylor swift #florence welch

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 2 years ago

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Sagau impostor au but after the reader is executed he dosnt comes back to earth or anything they are suited into two the evil and good halves the evil reader in revenge ravages teyvat into ruin and no one is safe in form thier tyrany but there is hope if the good halve of the reader debates and absorbs evil have then teyat is saved......one problem the good reader has weak body becose in moment of thier execution they had some much negative emotions that made the evil reader stronger after spliting into two

I don't fully understand this request, Anon, but I'll try my best! I'm just going to assume we got a yin-and-yang situation going on where "Yin" Reader is Good!Reader with weaker abilities while "Yang" Reader is Evil!Reader with stronger abilities.

Alright, here are some Headcanons for Good!Reader & Evil!Reader!

→ When Evil!Reader kills someone, they absorb their negativity.

This fact is very crucial because Evil!Reader doesn't just kill people for fun. They do it because they have the want to become stronger.

This is how they become the powerful tyrant they are now.

The small positivity of Evil!Reader doing this course of action is sent to Good!Reader. Think of Evil!Reader and Good!Reader as two storage boxes. When Evil!Reader kills someone, the negativity that the dead person feels is transferred to Evil!Reader, while Good!Reader gets the small amount of positive feelings of Evil!Reader's happiness.

Because Evil!Reader gets so much more than Good!Reader, their physical body is able to withstand more power/energy, thus meaning that Evil!Reader is physically stronger than Good!Reader.

Since they are two separate beings after Reader got executed, they have their own different goals now. It'll be hard for anyone to try to stop and convince Evil!Reader from purging all of Teyvat.

→ When Good!Reader absorbs evil, they change it into light.

That's right, ya boi's going a little cliché with this. Good!Reader basically purifies the evil energy that is spread all over Teyvat, causing the light that they produce to heal the cracked lands that Evil!Reader had left.

If they're lucky, the light produced may also revive someone. However, this is a very rare occurrence. The most common sight is that Good!Reader's light will purify their traumatized spirits and put them at peaceful rest.

Good!Reader doesn't decide who gets to live and who doesn't. It's a Free-For-All match.

→ When close/near one another, Good!Reader and Evil!Reader sometimes share a telepathic connection.

This is the result of Reader being split into two different people. Because they are technically the same person, Good!Reader and Evil!Reader will have a telepathic connection with one another and can have a full-blown argument in their heads.

This telepathic connection is still somewhat there even when they are miles apart. It becomes more of a twin bond connection, where one person would have a gut feeling that their twin is doing something (like killing, for example), and said-twin is, in fact, doing it.

The only difference between the Readers and most twins is that they don't get along. At all. They share different goals, and are too stubborn to back down from said goal or see the other's perspective.

→ Evil!Reader and Good!Reader can only merge when both being's have a similar amount of energy/power.

Yes, you can get Reader back, but it will be very difficult due to one problem: Evil!Reader is very much stronger in both strength and physical body. Good!Reader can't really keep up with Evil!Reader.

If they do, however, get a similar amount of energy, they will be transformed into spirit form and mix together to form Reader as a whole person.

The only problem is with this is that they won't cooperate with anyone if they want them both to merge. They pretty much despise each other for having a different goal than them.

And that's all I got for this idea! Sorry if this is very short, Anon, but I tried my best :') Hope you enjoyed it!

See you all around!

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#sagau genshin #yandere sagau #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #sagau villain au #genshin cult au #sagau impostor au #sagau isekai #self aware genshin #imposter au #imposter sagau #genshin self aware

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honeydew-wecantwo · 5 months ago

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Hi! I've been wanting to learn more about transabled folk so I'd like to ask you a few questions. I'd specifically like to know more about transautistic and what that means/is because I'm actually autistic. (If you're not transautistic I'm sorry I'm just asking a bunch of people the same thing)

Why do you want to be autistic?

Why do you want to be disabled?

How are you trying to be autistic?

How are you trying to be disabled?

Why don't you think it's insulting to pretend to be disabled?

Why don't you think it's insulting to pretend to be autistic?

Ok that's all my questions. Now I'd like to explain to you why it's hurtful to be transabled (specifically transautistic)

1.Actually autistic people suffer a lot

Because you're not actually autistic I wouldn't expect you to understand but, autistic people go through a lot. We are constantly misunderstood, we are constantly told we're disrespectful, communication can be very difficult, we get overstimulated easily and a lot.

Now I'm going to talk about my personal struggles that I have because of my autism. I struggle to eat and sleep because of my sensitivities. I struggle to work because I have meltdowns over really small things, which means that I don't want to work on (the thing that made me have a meltdown) and meltdowns are very emotionally and mentally draining so I don't have the energy to work after them. On bad days, 5 people talking in a room is TOO LOUD and will trigger a meltdown or shutdown. Because of my autism, ADHD, and possible NPD, I have some of the highest highs, when I feel unstoppable and invincible but because of my autism, ADHD and possible NPD, I have some of the lowest lows as well. When that happens, I can't move. I can't talk. I can't BREATHE. It's all too much.

By identifying as autistic, you insult the people who struggle because they're autistic.

2. Autistic people are actively discriminated against

There are so many shows, movies, books, etc that depict autistic people in hurtful and insulting ways. There are companies out there right now who want to "cure autism" (I'm talking about AutismSpeaks btw). They want to CURE us for being different. Many autistic people are forced through FUCKING TORTURE (ABA "therapy") because they're autistic.

And here YOU are. Identifying as autistic because it's "quirky and cool"

Fuck you and I hope you have a terrible day <3

hi! honestly, i was debating on responding to this, because you can't just start a conversation with 'i just want to learn', pepper it with wild accusations, and end it with 'fuck you'. but, even if i don't change your mind in the slightest, i can probably reach to others.

(three chunky paragraphs under the cut!)

first of all, i feel like your discomfort at and hate of transautistic people comes from the fact that you see being autistic or disabled as an inherently negative experience that no neurotypical or able bodied person in their right mind should want to go through. this, obviously, is wrong, and in my opinion more harmful than transautism itself. taking away autistic people's agency and just tell non-autistic people that the life of a neurodivergent person sucks so hard nobody should feel a connection does nothing but spread more ableist rhetoric. anyway,most of your questions can be answered by the fact that autistic people, though it's sometimes more difficult than neurotypical people, are just as capable as anybody else to have a happy and fulfilling life. and such, someone wanting to be autistic is not as utterly disgusting, insulting, and confusing as you think it is.

secondly, i was born neurodivergent and disabled and belonging to several other marginalized groups. i identify with transautism because i'm likely autistic, but because of how expensive getting therapy and all of that is, im not able to get a diagnosis. i struggle with meltdowns, sensory issues, social isolation, etc in a similar way to you. i struggle with seizures and such a big heat stroke risk that i can only go outside hours before the sun comes up. being able to get a diagnosis because of the economic class i was born in does not just magically make me a privileged neurotypical, able-bodied asshole. and honestly, most people in the transautistic community aren't privileged, neurotypical, or able-bodied either. if you float around the community for a little while, you'd start to realize that (/nsar)

and thirdly, and this is a bit of an aside, but you've got to learn how to phrase a question if you actually want to learn about this community. maybe you wrote it while in a fit of anger, i'm a bit frustrated writing this myself, but it sounds like you just wanted an excuse to white knight in someone's anon, lol. questions like "why don't you think it's insulting to pretend to be disabled?" and statements like "you only want to be autistic because you think it's quirky and cool" already put so many words into the recipient's mouth and so many assumptions into the world that anyone else in their right mind will just end up ignoring you.

hope this helps, if you ever even read it :3

#hopefully this isn't utterly unreadable #transid safe #transx safe #transautism safe #pro transautistic #transautistic safe #tw antitransautistic #long post

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elysiumblue · 1 year ago

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Pick a card - JUDGEMENT DAY: Review your past and learn to improve your future 🪦

The reading is inspired by the major arcana, "Judgement". It's quite a complex card for me so I want to do a reading inspired by the card to learn more about it. The spread I used is here, and the message I got from it is so informative, so you can give it a try too.

As the title said, this reading will give you a brief review of your past, reflection on the past, and guidance on what you can learn from it to create a better future. I think the text is quite long this time, so I won't provide a song for each pile, as I don't want to overwhelm you (and me lol).

Anyway, as it's a general reading, takes what resonates and leave the rest behind!

👇🏻 Pick an emoji you feel drawn to 👇🏻

And find the corresponding reading for you below!

Pile 1

In the past, you were shrouded by the sense of fear and anxiety. The situation you were in was not necessarily the worst thing on earth. Actually, for some of you, I can see that the situation you were in was somewhat "decent". It's like life was going on a nice direction, and you were always inspired to generate new ideas. However, it seems that it's very difficult for you to be happy even when things were "right".

You always felt that you're not enough, even though you had so much achievements in life. Such responses were caused by others opinions, as they never recognized your achievements, failed to express it to you in an honest way, or maybe you felt that you're hurting people with your progress as you made them jealous of you. You tried your very best to stay cool with those people, even when they said mean words to you. You tried not to have your emotions dictate your judgment, and you also tried very hard to hide them from people. You could be suffering from nightmares every night, but at day time you always tried to put on a show for people.

Those people can only see the surface of you. You can make them believe that you're doing absolutely ok. But can you do the same to yourself, when you have full information of yourself from both your body and mind? You tried to focus on the exterior of yourself to distract yourself from the pain you don't want to face. However, not looking at it doesn't mean that it's not here. You cannot neglect it's existence either as you can feel it in you so strongly no matter how hard you're distracting yourself from it.

The shroud separated your achievements from your heart, so you could never feel joy no matter how much you've achieved. Besides this, the grudge you have for the people also prevents you from expressing your ideas freely. You had, or maybe still have the tendency to hold back your ideas, because you don't think people deserve your brilliant ideas. You hate them and they don't deserve your best. You might be able to come up with the solution to a problem they're having instantly, but instead of telling them your idea immediately, you make them wait, and watch them suffer for a while before telling them your ideas.

Not telling people your ideas the second it generated from your mind is actually a great thing for you. However, the intention for you to do so is completely wrong. You used the time to enjoy people suffer, and feast from their negativity, instead of using the time to improve your ideas. Your ideas are really good even in their rawest form, but they can be so much better if you spend time on polishing them. It's because there's a duality in you that needs to be balanced. It's not a bad thing that there're two opposite minds in your brain. This trait can really help improving your thoughts if you take time to let them having constructive debate with each other.

By doing so, you can also learn how to let the two sides of you coexist in harmony, instead of fighting each other or neglecting the existence of each other. However, you first have to acknowledge the existence of one of the two sides, as it seems that you're trying to reject the existence of one of them. Also, you have to care less about other's opinions on you, because it's impossible to focus on the external and internal at the same time. By pulling back the focus on yourself, and fully accepting the two sides of you, you will be able to have a better knowledge of yourself, and find your own voice.

By being more connected to yourself, you will also experience less pain in relationships with others, as you no longer care that much about their opinions, and no longer have the desire to perform poor actions that can potentially hurt the relationship to make them agree with you.

Pile 2

You had an intense romantic relationship with someone in the past. It can also be a marriage, a family member, or a relationship that was so intense that it felt like family. Even thought it looked promising and felt like the real thing, you decided to cut them off because you're able to see that something was going extremely wrong even with the rose-colored glasses on.

Instead of giving your whole life, pouring all your love into that person, you resisted the temptation of going with the flow, and cut ties with them completely. For some of you, you may still have to face that person as it's still not possible to have them completely removed from your life due to different reasons. However, you basically blocked them from getting anything more than necessary from you. You decided to invest your time and energy into those who are bonded with you by exchanging energies with you fairly, instead of the person that's bonded with you by some fated event that you had to go through.

You having the courage to cut that person out of your life is one of the best things you've done in your life, as you accepted the fact that they could do nothing good to your life, instead of giving into the illusions. However, you are still suffering from the pain of making such decision, even though everyone, including you, acknowledges that this is a great decision. No matter how much time has passed, you still think about the possibilities that could happen. You may fantasize what could happen if you gave them a chance, or what could happen if they magically change into a better person one day.

It is very understandable for you to feel this way, as that person was once a very important part of your life. But you really have to accept the fact that it's impossible for you to invest your energy into the connection, and yourself at the same time, as they're really that useless to your life. Nothing can come out from the connection no matter what you do, as they're designed to be unhelpful to your life. You've dumped the garbage out from your house, so why you're still leaving the door open for a little bit, for the stench to enter your house.

Accept that things are DEAD, and stop looking back. Nothing good can happen if you continue such behaviour. You've chosen yourself instead of sinking with them back then, so it's time to commit to your option wholeheartedly. It may take time to completely erase their impact from your life and their existence in your mind, especially for those who still have to be stuck with the person in some way. However, changes can be made when you decided to switch your mindset, like how you decided to cut that person out from your life at the past. Focus on the goal of completely cutting off the energetic link to them, and keep putting effort into working towards the goal. The progress may be slow but if you keep doing it, eventually you can make it.

If this isn't motivating for you enough, I can see that the universe will give you a lesson if you don't start working on cutting energetic ties with them right now. The universe will do something to make you realize that it's the only thing you can do in this situation. I think you don't want to suffer more pain from this terrible situation. Also, I really think that you don't deserve being lectured by the universe again as I can see you put in so much effort in throwing the trash out of your life. There's only one step left to complete the cycle. Don't make yourself suffer the whole thing again just because you missed a step, even though you've finished 99% of the work.

Pile 3

I can see that your family had brought you a lot of suffering in the past. They set a really poor example of how people and the world works, and it distorted your view heavily. For some of you, your family members may be very full of themselves, thinking that they're superior than others. For some of you, they often demand you to give them something, but never give anything back to you in return.

Despite the distorted vision they've provided you, you are able to realize that there are other options for you outside. The suffering is so great that it pushes you to realize that home is not where you should be, and your family is not the people you should stay with. You might be confused or unsure about your future, but you're smart enough to know that your future is definitely not related to your family, and you are also sure that you don't want to have any relationship with your family anymore.

From your past experiences, you learned that you have the option to put an end to something in your life, as you discover that you have the power to cut ties with families you've been placed in since birth. The universe wants you to stick with this mindset. Believe that you're powerful enough to shape life the way you want. The traditions, the religions, the people in your life, have no power in deciding how your life should be, if you don't let them to have such power.

After understanding that you are powerful enough to decide how your life should be, you need to learn and understand that you are worthy and perfect. You're perfect as the way you are, so please don't do anything out of lack. If people fail to realize your worth, you should cut them off from your life, instead of changing yourself to the shape they like. You may think that it's an easy thing to do, as you've had your view distorted by your family for years. However, it's so much harder to do it when you're awakened. Awakening is like breaking a mirror. You can try everything but you cannot go back to the state when you were asleep, as you can always see the crack in the mirror.

Also, you should open yourself up to love and affection. It may be difficult for you to feel that you're loveable or deserve love, as people had mistreated you for so long in the past. However, you already know that they're wrong, so don't follow the false guidance to the wrong path ever again. Be comfortable with their praises, gifts, and offers to help you. You know that you don't have to be stuck in the excruciating pain forever. It's time to have fun in the present, and create a happier future.

Don't fall back into the patterns of the past. You may look back at it for inspiration, but you have to remember that there's a barrier between you and the past. No matter how close it felt, you have to remember that there's always a distance between you and the past. It's like looking at the view from the window. Your past is a completed story, so don't interact with it ever again.

#pick a card #tarot reading #general tarot reading

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umemiyan · 1 year ago

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41. “I wanna fuck you right up against the window.” 117. "Suck on my fingers."

𝙄𝙇𝙇𝙐𝙈𝙄𝙉𝘼𝙏𝙀𝘿.

𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗡 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗚𝗘𝗥 𝗫 𝗔𝗙𝗔𝗕!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / sleazy roommate!eren / fingering / exhibitionism / unprotected sex / creampie / 1k words

tysm for sending these!! i took some liberties with the dialogue itself, but i think it's still pretty true to the prompts hehe. this is my first time writing for eren 😭 so don't judge me pls. i wanted to challenge myself just a little.

prompts from this list:

41. “I wanna fuck you right up against the window.” 117. "Suck on my fingers."

In retrospect, you now realize how ridiculous it had been of you to leave your bedroom with nothing on but a shirt and a pair of panties when you weren’t home alone, sneaking into the kitchen of your apartment to quickly snatch something out of the refrigerator. Eren had been occupying his usual spot on the couch in the living room, playing through one of his video games but diverting his attention long enough to watch very carefully as you made your half-naked appearance. He’d quirked a brow in silence before catching your attention, beckoning you to come closer to him so that you couldn’t retreat back to your room without at least acknowledging his presence (and giving him an opportunity to observe you just a little bit closer).

Other people’s roommates could be pains in the ass because they left dishes in the sink or forgot to clean up after themselves in the bathroom, but Eren Jaeger was a pain in the ass because he wanted to be knuckle-deep in your pussy every time he caught a whiff of the opportunity.

And that’s exactly how he has you now—back pressed against the cool glass of the living room window, panties pushed to the side and his fingers lazily pumping in and out of you as he breathes evenly against your neck. He acts as though this is just another casual moment in his day, but you can feel the way his cock hardens through his jeans as he presses up against you, leaving you with no means of escape even if you wanted to break free from his grasp.

“Thought you knew better than to come around me looking like that,” he mumbles in your ear, savoring the slick sounds of his fingers pushing into you over and over again, slowly but with a finesse that makes your knees wobble. “Makes me think you’re doing it on purpose.”

All you can do is whine in response as he licks and then bites a mark into your neck, sinking his teeth in like he’s taking his time devouring you.

“N-not on purpose,” you finally manage to stammer out, though you wonder if your negligence truly had been somewhat purposeful, at least subconsciously. The slick dripping onto his hand makes it difficult for you to try and deny your current state of enjoyment.

“You sure? Because I don’t believe you,” he states, bringing his green gaze back up to meet yours. “You wanna be seen so bad? I can fuck you right here, right up against this window.”

The darkness outside makes it easier for your two figures to been seen through the window, illuminated by the dim light of the room as he holds you up against the glass. The idea of it doesn’t strike you as entirely negative, so you bite your lip and challenge him with your eyes.

That singular look is all it takes for Eren to slide his fingers out of your cunt and hold them up to your mouth, commanding you to take them in between your lips. “Suck,” he orders calmly but with firmness, watching with hazy eyes as you do just that, licking your juices off his skin at an indulgent pace.

Once you’ve sucked him clean, Eren wastes no time in lifting your shirt up over your breasts and giving one of your nipples a harsh pinch before flipping you around, forcing your chest against the window and spreading your thighs apart so that he can see the arousal that drips down them.

“Fuuuck,” he drawls, and suddenly your ears are met with the sounds of his belt buckle and zipper coming undone, hot and heavy cock filling his palm once he pulls it out and starts dragging it along your slit. There’s no warning for when he decides to push himself inside, filling you up in a single stroke and leaving you gasping for air as he stretches you open for everyone to see.

He starts a selfish pace and revels in the sound of your pussy sucking him in, squeezing his cock and soaking it with every roll of his hips. One hand comes up to hold you by the shoulder while the other finds leverage on your hip, fingers digging into your skin as he takes you with infuriating ease.

“Pussy’s so good,” he praises and throws his head back with a groan. “Want everyone to know.”

You’re too dazed from the way he strokes your insides to notice if there’s anyone in your immediate field of view who might be able to catch a glimpse of your roommate staking his claim. As mortifying of an idea it might be at first, there’s also something deeply arousing about it that makes you have no quarrel with being fucked like this; plus, the building orgasm in your core feels too delicious for you to have much of an objection to anything at this point.

“Fuck, Eren…” you choke out and clench around him, palms pressed flat against the glass and breath causing it to fog.

He speeds up at the indication of your pleasure, desperate to have you cumming around him and to feel his own high wash over him. “Cum on my cock; don’t be shy,” he says between grunts, filling you over and over again with his length until you’re nothing but a mess of unintelligible noises and tremors. You obey his command within seconds and clamp down as the pleasure pulses through you, crying out with eyes rolling back into your head at the overwhelming sensation.

Eren’s thrusts only grow quicker in pace as he draws closer to his own release, breaths bated and your moans filling the air until he finally bursts at the seams. You’re shivering your way down from your orgasm as he starts filling you with his own, warm spurts of white coating your walls as you rest brain-dead against the window. He pumps himself until every drop has been spilled inside you, not wasting the opportunity to make an even bigger mess of you than before.

You feel his lips graze against your neck and then upon the shell of your ear as both of your breaths start to become steady. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he says evenly before withdrawing himself, pulling your panties back into place before his cum gets a chance to leak out onto the floor.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #aot x reader #aot smut #my writing.

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slightly-gay-pogohammer · 8 months ago

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I don't know if you've ever been asked this question, but I was wondering:

Did you learn to draw somewhere, or were you self-taught? Maybe you have some tips or hints for beginners? What was your favourite thing about drawing?

Sorry if this ask is too personal, but I really like your drawing style and wanted to ask some advice :D Have a good day! 🌸

it's a mix of both, really! i grew up loving art from the very beginning, like. im talking about making teletubbies fanarts and asking my dad to make me learn to draw characters from w.i.t.c.h. and tomb raider fandsndfs, according to my parents i had a pencil in my hands before i even started talking -- and that's what led me to actually learn to draw "properly", first in a art-centered high school (that. did less than good to me tbf but it was a matter of 90% of the art-related teachers being garbage) and the comics academy in torino where i think i started to truly "understand" what i wanted from my art style

if i may give some advices other than the good ol' "keep practicing and try to at least doodle something once a day", i could go with:

don't compare yourself to other artists negatively, especially those younger than you. it's probably the hardest part, but you need to "force yourself" to be positive. if you find yourself thinking "this 14 years old draws better eyes than me", go with "i love how they draw eyes, let's see if i can learn from it"

copy copy copy copyyyyy!!!!! copy from references, copy from photos, copy from comics, copy from movies. of course don't plagiarize people and then present that stuff as your own, but try to make a pose yours and learn to take pictures of your own hands, feet, face or ask people to pose if you can't find the right position

your art will look like shit to you, a LOT of times, but know that at one point you're going to quit. if you don't like what you're drawing, either quit there or restart, don't try to "fix" it because you'll just end up noticing more and more issues with it - issues that, most of the times, aren't even issues to begin with. letting go of perfectionism is very difficult, but at some point you'll have to do that--

and about perfectionism, a VERY good exercise we did in comics school was being forced to "draw fast". this isn't me telling you you NEED to draw as quick as possible, but it's an exercise that forces you to learn quickly where certain body parts go, to prioritize specific details rather than others. we had a model, and at first we had to sit there for an hour drawing her, then the hour became 30 minutes, then 10, then 5, and at the end 1. it took us a few lessons to do that, but at the end the super sketchy 1 minute copy went from ???? to a stylized human figure!!!

learn to draw realistic anatomy, and then make it your own style.

for the love of god learn prespective it's a bore it's a chore but as soon as you learn that everything becomes SO much easier

for shading, just. put a point in the canvas where the light source is and go from there!! if the light is on the right, the shades will be on the left

if you're coloring, play with the shades' colors. a good idea is to use the opposite color you use for the lights - if the light is yellow, the shades look great in purples, for example just don't use pure black unless you wanna go for a more dark/noir aesthetic oh my god

professional comic artists retrace a lot of their backgrounds. i'm js. use this as you wish :)

learn to draw different body shapes!!!! like getting out of the anime phase of "fat people are just like thin people but with a huge belly" can be difficult, but it's very satisfying

go out of your comfort zone. if you have problems drawing horses, spend a few days learning to draw horses. take some pics and try to understand them.

body proportions are so fun once you realize how so many things are the same. generally speaking, your spread hand is as long as your face, your feet and half the size of your arm; the outer corner of your eye is at the same level of your ear, and the inner corner is perpendicular to your nose and the corner of your mouth; if you leave your arm on your side, your elbow is at the same level of your bellybutton, and your fingers reach halfway your thighs. it's so fun

and yea, i can't stress it enough. it'll take time. art is painful, art is stressful, art can be discouraging. take a step at the time, accept some failures and celebrate any good thing - even the smaller ones. you learned to draw hands today, and you should be proud. i tried to draw a cat for the first time and it looks wonky, but the cat you will draw tomorrow will look better. i believe in you

#gio replies

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pepperstrawberry · 4 months ago

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Pepper Rant

I'm sorry. I hate being negative. I... I'm having a hard time right now. Its been building all week. (I tried to figure out how to put a 'cut/readmore', but it seems a lot has changed with formatting since I last created a full post of my own that required more then a few quick images and text)

I know I don't post much on here, or at least no where near my old consistancy... but I am pretty happy I still see some familiar names float across my dash.

Though, right now, it feels like... like I'm lost. Trying to figure out someone to commiserate with, but I kinda don't want to burden folks and I can't remember which of the discords I'm on have spots for political rambles.

Most of my biggest fears are probably going to be very obvious.

November 8 2016, I remember being in a discord chat at the time. All the mods were off for one reason or another. Some folks were freaking out. Some weren't. This was an LGBT focused discord, so the fact that some folks were thinking things would be fine was a bit concerning. I had to use my minis to drown folks out, reminding folks that the discord in question had a specific space for that sort of topic and the main channel we were in need to be a space for just breathing. It was... a rough night for everyone I think.

Over the course of the next year plus, I would often say things like 'this feels like the sort of thing you see in history books around mid 20s - early 30s of Gernany. I wasn't sure how much I was speaking in hyperbole and how much was 1000% serious, but I do know I was leaning toward the later.

Now... here we are, on the cusp of another election, the same bastard moving for power. And I honestly feel more then ever I was at least close to the reality. It wasn't 1 to 1, mind. but it was... familiar enough.

With already some extremely disturbing actions by the SCOTUS and the like mouths before the vote is upon us gives me some chilling fears.

The unparalleled power the position of President now has is... not something to take lightly. And this time, its not a bumbling idiot that is going to be lost at how the job even works.

mind you, he is still a fool. He is still the same self centered piece of garbage. But this time, he has a team behind him already setting a lot of very very disturbing things in motion.

The 'Immunity' decision has basically cemented a path to getting everything they want. Not a little, but a lot.

I don't have the mental strength or energy. All I can feel is a tingling fear in my nerves that is slowly building. A reality I want to wake up from.

And the worst of it is: even if the Biden wins, that is *at best* a holding pattern. That guy isn't much better. Maybe he turned around several things Trump did, but it hasn't really felt like we have moved forward to anything better.

Unless something is *somehow* done about the Immunity decision, among others, then we are just going to be facing this nightmare again in the next election.

Honestly, I am not liking how next year is looking in either case. I would move out of country, but I don't even know which place would be best to run to, nor am I in nearly as 'stable' financially as I was even just a year ago.

I'm sorry, I used to keep my politic stuff on a separate tumblr... but honestly, fuck that. Things are just too fucked. I don't know how to keep my thoughts separate anymore.

I know for many across the world, what I fear is already their reality. It makes this whole mess feel even worse. I know there is good in this world. Good people and good places... but I feel like everyone I know is so spread out. Even my closest friends (aside from a couple of family members and my girlfriend) are miles away at the least and states or even countries away at most. So even if I were to find a place to run to, its going to be... difficult.

No this isn't a plea for cash or anything. At least not yet. Just right now, I need to get it out of my system on some level. Even if it ends up as 'not as bad as I fear', the fact is, it is still going to be horrible for many of us. I thought that at least the Senate and SCOTUS would at least provide a *little* barrier to the plans of that bastard and his allies. But that barrier no longer exists. I don't know what is going to stand against him doing most of not all they are planning.

Tonight, as I right this, there are still fireworks popping off. A night that was supposed to celebrate independence from a King...

I fear next year, they will be celebrating a new king... and they may not even be simulated.

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ghxst-system · 4 months ago

Text

I'm sorry I've been gone

But I think I'm ready to be back now

Below the cut is an explanation written by our headmate Koi.

Here are TWs necessary for the explanation but the details have mainly been spared: Manipulation, talk of paranoia, degendering and mentions of the r slur

I wanted to come back by giving a bit of an info post as to what's been going on

To put it simply: a "big" blog here on sysblr has deeply hurt and even manipulated us.

I don't know if now is the time to name names to be honest but I will say SOME of what they did:

- Endangered us and other systems by refusing to research RAMCOA [even the bare minimum] as a larger sysblr blog

- Used the r slur on two occasions [and in both instances implied they use it frequently] and talked about "reclaiming" it after we told them never to use it around us as it's a trigger. Yes an alter [Siffrin] tried to explain why the r slur is particularly difficult to define who can reclaim and they brushed it off. This post is not the place to debate this thank you.

- Degendered us purposefully asking to only use "they/them" as it was "easier". Applying to ALL alters and us collectively.

- Said they were happy and knew we'd split a fictive from media they introduced us to

- Proved they did no research on the terms they used or their disorders, putting themself at risk of misinfo whilst spreading it as well

-Reacted strangely to when we were triggered.. I don't want to write a full explanation as this was a very odd and manipulative thing but basically manipulated us to think that any reason besides being triggered or upset by someone was an invalid reason to be unable to talk

- When we eventually managed to cut ties they asked us to give examples of these instances where they'd made us uncomfortable and to be the ones to tell them where to find education info, further proving they were unsafe to hold a system platform

I'm not going in high detail here because I'm detaching myself [me as an alter I mean] from the emotions around this just to be able to post

The paranoia this has caused is immense and I won't be explaining details for obvious reasons.

Outside of this negative experience some other personal things have happened that have basically caused our paranoia to snowball to an extreme and we have struggled to trust anyone in our life right now besides one or two people.

As an alter I split to be the one speaking to them and couldn't comprehend WHY I hated them until a mediator helped us sort through and type up everything they had done to essentially fuck us over, cross boundaries and manipulate

I do want to make it clear once again we are still in a highly susceptible state and our mental health is flimsy rn. A large split occurred and it's left us still struggling for stability.

-Koi [Shx/Hx]

#❜ ─ Ghxsts Scream ─ ❛

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vickyvicarious · 6 months ago

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I must say you tax me very unfairly with being a bad correspondent. I wrote to you twice since we parted, and your last letter was only your second. Besides, I have nothing to tell you. There is really nothing to interest you. [...] He has a curious habit of looking one straight in the face, as if trying to read one's thoughts. He tries this on very much with me, but I flatter myself he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that from my glass. Do you ever try to read your own face? I do, and I can tell you it is not a bad study, and gives you more trouble than you can well fancy if you have never tried it. [...] Mina, we have told all our secrets to each other since we were children; we have slept together and eaten together, and laughed and cried together; and now, though I have spoken, I would like to speak more. [...] I am blushing as I write, for although I think he loves me, he has not told me so in words. But oh, Mina, I love him; I love him; I love him! There, that does me good. I wish I were with you, dear, sitting by the fire undressing, as we used to sit; and I would try to tell you what I feel. I do not know how I am writing this even to you. I am afraid to stop, or I should tear up the letter, and I don't want to stop, for I do so want to tell you all. Let me hear from you at once, and tell me all that you think about it. [...] I need not tell you this is a secret.

Mina's first letter is full of allusions to the future. Lucy's is full of talk about talking. She brings up poor communication between her and Mina, lies that there is no news, talks about how she's hard to figure out by looking at. When she admits the truth it is with clear relief but she alludes to it being difficult for her to speak of no matter how much she may want to, Arthur hasn't told her his feelings yet, everything she has said is a secret and must not be repeated.

Obviously, this is all pretty light-hearted here. But this is a huge theme for Lucy moving forward. Information being hid from her, and by her even if she might not want to. Secrets surrounding her. Difficulty being open, difficulty interpreting people. The inability to speak freely even to the most beloved people. All of it.

In this letter, Lucy is being cute and coy with Mina when she initially pretends there's nothing going on with her, and she's overflowing with delight and intimacy when she comes clean only a few lines later. Her hesitancy to speak too much is partially because she doesn't want to get too carried away when she doesn't have confirmation that her feelings are returned. Also, with her role in society and perhaps thinking of her mother in particular, she can't be the first one to admit to being in love, or get her feelings spread around too much. While that has its own potential negatives for sure, this letter as a whole is very lighthearted, sweet, and charming. But it's very sad to notice these details when you know where Lucy's story will end.

#dracula daily #dracula daily spoilers #lucy westenra

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thetriumphantpanda · 7 months ago

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hi charlie!

to say the vibes have been off lately would be an understatement, wouldn’t it? because there has been a lot of negativity, too much for a place that is supposed to be about finding an outlet for your creativity and people to share your interests.

i know it has been difficult, draining to be around here and face all the discourse cankering the fandom.

because of all this negativity, i believe it is important to try and balance it out with some kindness. so here i am, doing a little check-up on you <3

so first, how are you, really?

everything you feel regarding what is happening is valid and you deserve to feel happy and safe around here. so please, make sure you take the time you need from posting, from sharing fics, even just from being on the platform. i want you to know it’s okay and i support whatever you decide, for whatever reason.

i also want you to know that you have your place here, as much as the rest of us. you’re loved and wanted and i can assure you the fandom is a far better place with you in it.

i hope you’re taking care of yourself outside of tumblr as well. please remember to stay hydrated and to eat something 🫶🏼

now i would like you to sit back and enjoy the perfect, quiet night in with joel <3

do not hesitate to reach out if you need to talk, i’m here for you! sending you all my love and so many hugs 🫂

anna 💗

Ahhh Anna, this is so sweet of you - thank you for taking the time to try and combat so much of the negativity on here by spreading some love - it's so important!

I have had so many thoughts about what's been going on lately, some of which I'll share here, but I'll put under a read-more so if you're not wanting to read discourse, you don't have to!

I'm going to go and enjoy my quiet night in with Joel, because that would absolutely fix me right now and thank you for sharing that with me. He's making me a cup of tea right now and is going to bring it to me, we'll watch TV and I will continue crocheting a blanket for us to snuggle up under!

Take care of yourself Anna, and thank you for always being kind and wonderful on here!

If you've been around here a while, you'll know that I rarely, if ever, get involved and wade into the discourse that floats around often. It's not because I don't care, it's because this blog has, and always will be, my way to escape the pressure of my real life. I have enough personal drama to contend with outside of the internet, and I very rarely want to allow it to bleed into the one space I have where I can escape for some peace.

That being said, it has become harder and harder for me to ignore the absolute storm of shit that has been swirling these past weeks. My friends and mutuals having their works blatantly stolen and then receiving hate when calling this out. People I look up to and whose writing I enjoy being attacked for presenting certain kinks. The insane rise in anon hate being spouted not just here, but across other sites as well. It's all too much and it all has to stop.

The people on this site create fic because they enjoy it. They graciously and selflessly write thousands of words for your enjoyment, for free might I add, without asking for very much in return. They write often around full-time jobs, school work and through personal and health issues. They agonise over making sure their work is as good as they can make it. They don't owe you anything, we don't owe you anything. We do this because we enjoy it, but the current climate on this absolute hellsite is making the enjoyment really fucking hard to find these days.

Be kind to each other. Stop hiding behind the cloak of anonymity to spew hate and be mean. Stop stealing other people's work. If you come across a fic that has warnings or themes that aren't your cup of tea, stop reading and walk away. Take a step back and think about what will happen if writers are continuously driven off this site.

#panda answers #tw discourse

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velvetvexations · 6 months ago

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lmao on you not spreading negativity. you're literally well known for doing so. your hate for the bad kids while excusing everything the rat grinders do is almost infamous by now. if people keep telling you you're being negative and hating on something, at what point do you maybe consider it's not literally everyone else that is wrong?

It's not hating on the Bad Kids to expect or at least want them to act consistent with how the narrative treats them. As I said, comedic sociopathy is a fine trope and I love a lot of things that are built around that. My own writing features protagonists of very dubious morality. MY morality is somewhat dubious. But it's difficult to reconcile that with people who simultaneously treat them like the most generous, caring, loving group of sweethearts to ever live while also going "if you watched the previous seasons you'd know they've always been fucked-up little hell beasts whose favorite thing in the world is mass murder".

If we can take Fig's relationship with Ayda so seriously that it moves people to tears we can also take the really terrible things she does with Disguise Self seriously, and think that maybe those two elements clash a bit. That maybe it'd be cool if Fig got character development that moved her past that instead of being a character we're supposed to accept as deep and nuanced until it's time for carrying on deceptive romantic relationships with adults and catfishing another teenager for literally no reason in which case she just turns into a bit machine we're not meant to take seriously.

And if we can call BLeeM a decolonial philosopher, maybe we can acknowledge Fabian said something violently misogynistic without necessarily condemning Lou over it? Maybe we can point out when something in the show is not very harmonious with it's usual messaging instead of just pretending it's praxis will always be perfect forever in all cases without exception?

I also don't 'excuse' the Rat Grinders. I feel like Slayer, like, they're the bad guys, they've murdered multiple innocent people, I should not have to include a disclaimer every single time I talk about them and what they do to make sure it's clear I don't approve of their actions.

I'm not super into Junior Year, anon, but that's fine. I love the cast. I'm still the person who made this with zero irony. I will be here for Never Stop Blowing Up and beyond.

#dimension 20 #fhjy

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watercolor-hearts · 1 year ago

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Hi, i would love to read about adult lestappen having another inchident

I got three prompts, all of them are Lestappen and two of them are about the inchident. Lestappen days ahead I guess. 😃

l don't think you were thinking about this kind of inchident but I wanted to deep dive in the mpreg world again (I had been writing mpreg stories for years when I was writing in Hungarian and now I miss it a bit but I didn't know how to start writing about it in this fandom. And then came this idea.) so I wrote this little angsty inchident story. I know I said in the post that I don't do sad end but that means I don't write death or anything like that. So angsty sad ends still can happen, like this. If you want a second, happier chapter, please tell me. 😊

Max/Charles • 1164 words • mpreg • angst • mentions of nausea and vomiting • arguing • not so happy ending (no death or anything like that, Charles just needs time) • Ao3 link • 2nd part • 3rd part

Max didn't notice the small tear on the condom when he took it off to throw it out after the amazing sex they'd just had. Charles was spread out on the bed and all Max could think about was giving him the best ever aftercare as the cherry on the top. Charles deserved it.

***

Charles needed one race victory to seal the championship when he sensed the disaster coming. He wasn't feeling very well all day but he was well enough to race. Until the second half of the race because that was when the first sign of stomach problems came. He was sweating even more than usual, he felt like he needed to puke.

��Track limits on turn 1,” came the message from Xavi on the team radio. “Keep it between the white lines, please. Last warning before black and white flag.”

“Copy,” he said, fighting with the awful feelings in his body. It was really difficult for him to control the car, he could feel Max closing the gap. Charles couldn't let him overtake. He needed to win the race, there was no other option. Not now when it mattered the most.

“Charles, is everything all right?” Xavi asked when he noticed the negative change in Charles' lap time. Charles pressed the radio button but at the beginning, his engineer could only hear his fast and shallow breathing.

“I... I need to... I...” Charles wanted to say but he couldn't because he had to fight with the severe nausea. He couldn't control the car, he got the black and white flag and Max was dangerously close to overtaking him. His worst nightmare came alive when he couldn't hold the puking back anymore. Luckily he was able to stop the car on the grass next to the track so he wouldn't cause any accidents.

“Charles, are you all right?” came the message again but he couldn't answer. He needed to take his helmet off now because it made him disgusting and claustrophobic. “Charles, please push any button on the steering wheel if you can hear me.” Charles did what Xavi asked and then got out of the car and took his helmet off. As soon as he stepped away from the car, the nausea overcame him and he puked on the grass. He needed to rest his hands on his knees as he tried to control his breathing. He wanted to cry. It couldn't be real. Fucking not.

***

After the podium ceremony and the post-race interviews, Max's first thing to do was to check Charles on at the medical center. He was worried about him because he didn't know what happened exactly as GP only told him Charles was out of the race but there wasn't any accident. It wasn't until the interviews that he got to know that Charles wasn't feeling well enough to be able to finish the race. It made Max worry even more because Charles didn't tell him about not feeling well enough to race.

When he arrived at the medical center, a Ferrari lady stopped him to go to Charles. She was shielding him like something very very serious happened.

“Please, I need to see him,” Max tried to stay calm and hoped they would let him in, but the lady didn't move. “I am his b—,” Max almost said but stopped when he realized they were keeping their relationship secret. But there was also the fact that they haven't talked about what to do when something like this happens and they want to see each other.

“We're going to tell him you're here but you need to wait because the doctor is still examining him.”

“Still?” Max asked, eyes widening because it's been an hour since Charles got taken there, “Is it something serious?

“I'm sorry but I can't tell you anything about it.”

“Fuck, I—,” he wanted to argue but he also knew it wouldn't lead anywhere so he just sighed and waited, hoping it wasn't anything serious, they just wanted to be sure.

***

“He's asking for Verstappen,” said another Ferrari team member to the lady standing in front of the door. Max looked up.

“You can now go in but everything you see and he tells you is a secret. Do you understand?”

Max nodded. “I do.”

Then they let him go in. Max ran to Charles when he saw him lying on the examining bed, half-dried tears on his face, eyes red from crying.

“Hey, Charlie,” he said, calmly, and took Charles' hand and kissed his forehead. “How are you feeling? Nothing serious, right?”

Charles shook his head and started crying again. “I puked in my helmet and I had to stop and now I can't race and it's all your fucking fault, Max!” Charles said angrily as took his hand away from Max's. “Don't fucking touch me!”

“What the fuck Charles?!” Max asked, surprised about Charles' reaction.

“I'm fucking pregnant, Max,” Charles blurted out, “and I just lost the championship because of your shit-ass quality condom. It's all because of you!”

Max couldn't believe what he just heard. “Wait—Are you—Are you really pregnant?” Max asked, reaching to put his hand on Charles' stomach but his boyfriend stopped him.

“Don't fucking touch me!” he shouted, making the Ferrari lady poke her head into the room to check on them. “It's okay,” Charles said to her, “he'll be gone soon.”

“What the fuck man?!”

“I hate you, Max,” Charles turned to him again. “You took everything away from me. Everything. If I keep the b—”

“You are of course going to keep it.”

“That's not your fucking decision, Max. My body, my decision. And I want this championship. I fought for it, I gave everything for it. You have like six titles, I have zero, Max.”

Max shook his head. He couldn't believe this. “You cannot be this selfish.”

“I can't be?” Charles asked, “Mate, you're the selfish one here. Go the fuck away. I don't need you after this.”

It was like a stab in the heart for Max. He took a step back and just stood there, looking at Charles, especially his stomach. He's pregnant. Fuck, he's pregnant. Pregnant with Max's baby. And now Max fucked everything up.

“Please do not take them away from me, Charles. Please. You cannot kill—”

“Go the fuck away, now!” Charles shouted at him, tears washing his face.

Max tried to swallow the knot in his throat as tears filled his eyes. He nodded and turned to the door but before leaving the room, he looked back at Charles. “I love you and I'm sorry. It is of course your body and your decision. If you ever want to talk to me again, please call or text and then we can meet somewhere. Take care of yourself and the baby too,” Max said, heart breaking into pieces, as he wiped the tears off before leaving the room.

Getting the lead in the championship has never been more heartbreaking.

#lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #my writing #anonymous asks #charles wdc au

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