#if i figure out more of my identity ill post again but for now i must try to put us to bed

[pluralpoke]

it all just feels like a reminder that happiness isn't for us. like haha yeah, you get to be happy for a little bit...but don't forget that your true state of being is suffering.

it's easy to forget that we are just a tool meant to be used. maybe we dream a bit too big, have too much hope that our efforts will be appreciated, and this leads us to think that we deserve to be happy and to be respected.

it's foolish to think in such a way. we should all know our place by now. we all have a role to fill.

our role to bare the suffering in silence and support unconditionally all who need us. straying to far from this will only lead to sadness and ruin. it's unfortunate but it's our cross to bare.

- 🫀⚖️

[octohearts]

“i’ve got my eye on you.”

jace was perfectly content with his pending arranged marriage, after all he had a duty to the people. however, once he laid his eyes upon you, suddenly he wanted more. despite not knowing your name or background, he was determined to find out everything.

jacaerys velaryon x reader 𝜗𝜚

(my first ever post on tumblr! this is bad, i got nervous writing it… however please request stuff and feel free to ask who i’m willing to write for; there’s a large number of characters i like!! thank you for reading <3)

jace had been riding vermax when he first spotted you on the shore front, poking around in the sand; he was unsure what you may be looking for. he wondered why a lady was alone, especially one as pretty as you were. he had scoped the area, finding no traces of anyone else being nearby; why were you alone? who exactly were you? curiosity got the best of jace, he needed to know.

once vermax had landed and bowed slightly to allow jace to dismount, you became startled and stumbled back slightly at the sight of a dragon and its rider. “i mean you no harm, my lady. i just wondered if you were alright, can i offer you any help?” jace asked, his hands behind his back as he approached you.

he finally was close enough to take in all your features. your shiny, unruly hair looked perfect despite its messy appearance, your glowing eyes staring up at him, the sand that dusted your cheek from when you accidentally rubbed there… you looked perfect. he noticed the collection of sea shells you had in your lap, shells of all different colours, shapes and sizes. but none of them could amount to your beauty.

despite the fact that jace had no idea who you were, it was the complete opposite for you. how had you managed to capture the heir to the iron thrones attention?

“no, my prince. i don’t need any assistance, thank you for the offer though, you’re too kind.” y/n responded as a red blush spread across her cheeks like a wild fire. “if you must excuse me, my prince… i must be returning home now.”

before jace could muster a response, she had gathered the seashells in her lap into her hands before taking off in the opposite direction to vermax and jace. he watched her figure disappear over the sand dunes, his chest was weighed down with disappointment.

he didn’t even ask for her name.

he spent the days following your brief interaction pondering about you. he had been kicking himself due to the fact that he didn’t ask for your name. he knew he could ask someone to find out your identity but he didn’t wish to scare you off. he intended to find you again, one day and formally introduce himself like he had planned to that day.

suddenly thoughts of his marriage and producing heirs was pushed to the back of his brain. whilst he spent months wondering what his marriage would be like to his future wife, now he could only think about you. your name. your identity.

he vowed to never stop searching for you, until he had asked for your hand. only then would he be at peace with himself.

𝜗𝜚

meanwhile your interaction with the prince had left your heart hammering away in your chest. never once had an interaction with a man left you in such a way. you wondered if you had come down with an illness, had the prince somehow bewitched you? no matter the reason, there was no point dwelling on it; there was no chance that your paths may cross again in the future.

that is what you kept telling yourself, until jacaerys velaryon had somehow appeared in front of you a week after your first meeting.

“my lady, we meet again.”

[fraugwinska]

DoubleTrouble No. 2 - Missionary Impossible

Yes, we did Team up again - the wonderful @macabr3-barbi3 and my humble self wrote another DoubleTrouble fic, based of a hilarious FranticFanfic game result (If you are a writer and have some friends who also indulge in fanfiction, check the game out: www.franaticfanfic.com - Your throat will hate you but the laughter makes it worth it!)

This time we give all of you Vox Lovers a real Treat! Mine is the Readers POV, while Barbie provided Vox's POV - get the TV's dirty version right here.

And now, without further ado:

Explicit Sexual content - Minors DNI - 18+ - 6.5k words

You had to admit: Breaking into Lucifer’s personal vault was your boldest and most impressive job yet. You had your concerns - normally you didn’t take jobs that seemed too shady or downright wrong to you - but you didn’t steal anything powerful, just a bottle of his vanished wife’s perfume. You shake your head at the memory. Most certainly one of her many, still very active superfans, kind of icky to be honest. But money talks, and boy did that client talk.

The only downside had been that for the first time, the 666 Evening News had a picture of you.

Granted, blurry, obstructed and absolutely not usable at all - but it still irked you to no end. They didn’t call you the ‘Traceless Thief’ for nothing.

But even though no one was more the wiser about your identity, even though Lucifer begrudgingly stopped looking for witnesses, even though the gossip on the streets about speculations who the Traceless Thief could’ve been died down - ever since that night, you felt like you were being watched.

The next jobs you take go without news coverage and media attention, and yet, you grow more and more paranoid. Hell has many eyes - figuratively and literally - and you feel them all on you. But there is work to be done and a living to be earned - and the tiny alibi antique bookshop you keep definitely doesn’t provide. No one sane wants old shit in hell - and the rare specimens that do and visit the dingy little space under your apartment come and go, disappointed in the stock you barely keep.

Which is fine by you - you only really need it for one thing. The PO Box.

The wonderfully boring, uninteresting PO Box of the ‘Dusty Pages’ bookshop was your portal to the real money. Hell had become a lot better the day you mastered the powers the underworld granted you: No physical barrier could contain you. Being intangible granted you freedom, and to return to the profession you were best in: Stealing Shit.

Of course, noble causes like overturning corrupt governments by breaking into officials homes and publishing their many crimes was still stealing, if you ask heaven that is, and it landed you in hell. You gave up being salty about it, and made the best out of the situation.

“Hey Frankie. How’s the wife?” The post office clerk, a grumpy looking crocodile in an ill-fitting checkered suit huffs.

“Still fucking annoying, as always. Each day I’m getting closer to bribing an exterminator to kill the bitch just to shut her up for good.”

You chuckled, leaning on the counter and tapping your fingers on the scratched wood.

“Aw, did you burn the meatloaf again? You know Alice hates that.” Frankie gives you an exasperated look, which you meet with a mocking grin.

“You want something? Except for getting on my nerves?”

You shrug, twirling a tiny key on a string around your finger. Frankie, and by proxy Alice too, were parts of your harmless, boring, inconspicuous appearance. Just a normal young sinner, just a normal errand to run, keeping normal small talk with the clerks.

“Just checking my PO Box. I’m waiting on a few rare books I ordered to restock.”

“Uh-huh. Tell someone who gives a shit.”

The crocodile turns away, adjusting his small, round reading glasses and eager to ignore you. Perfect.

“Always nice to chat with you, Frankie.” you say and saunter over to the little door with the number 13. The quiet click always sounds satisfyingly like a little exclamation of joy and like cashflow, and under the ‘Old Crap & Thingamajigs’ catalog you found what you were hoping for. A thick envelope and a letter - new jetstream-bathtub, here you come.

God, why were the VoxTech maintenance uniforms so fucking skimpy?

You grumble silently, cursing yourself that you haven’t grabbed the male one. But that would’ve been suspicious, and you couldn’t afford to be suspicious today. Not if you want to get the job done and live to tell the tale. 

The Vee Tower is full of cameras, hundreds of tiny, red blinking lights next to crystal clear lenses, and dead spots were hard to find and a rare occasion. So, when you couldn’t shift through the walls, you had to look like you belonged. And apparently, a fucking laced, black mini-skirt and a top with puffy sleeves that looked more like a fetish bralette was what it took to ‘belong’. The whole point was blending in, not being remembered - and all the female employees from cleanup and maintenance looked the exact same as you. So, unless one was walking around with a bag full of personnel files on hand, you looked like anyone else on this floor.

You stepped into the elevator, the keycard your client had sent you along with the money and initial job offer in hand. Wherever that person got those precious credentials, you were grateful for them because it gave you an easy way to bypass all the layers of security that VoxTech imposed. All that hassle for an incriminating photo.

You sighed when you pressed the button to floor 66, where the CEO of VoxTech enterprises had his private apartment. Vox.

The name was even more intimidating than Lucifer's to you. While the king of hell was aloof, inactive, disinterested in the ongoings of hell, Vox was the absolute opposite. He knew every little secret. VoxTech had millions of eyes and ears. It was a well known fact that he kept his all-seeing spycams on the whole pentagram and his pliant audience in his steely grasp. Always on top of the times, on top of the news, on top of the sales and on top of any business, shady or not, in hell. In the eyes of the citizens of the Pride Ring, Vox and his partners Valentino and Vevette owned practically everything. He had the largest audience in the history of hell, the sharpest wit and the keenest, calculating eye on the prize - a charming manipulator that was considered very much dangerous and not to be underestimated. Which is why you had to plan your gig for a time you were certain he wasn't around.

A shame really - you couldn’t deny, despite his ruthlessness and questionable business practices with which he had built his empire, you kind of admired the self-made TV-demon that rose to overlord status and made quite a big name for himself in stellar time. That, and he was nice to look at too, even with a flatscreen for a head. Oh well.

The ding of the elevator brought you back to the job at hand, and with confident steps, you glanced up and down the corridor. There were a few cameras pointed to the apartment door, but you found a dead spot not far off, and with a content smile, you walked over as if to inspect the carpet, just to shift as you were out of the camera's angle, your body transpiring through the wall, and with a quiet thud, you were inside.

That was the moment the lights went out.

A power outage was the last thing you had expected - in the Vee Tower of all places. The one place in hell that burst with electricity, and you would laugh at the irony if you weren't so tense. The timing is suspicious,and with a beating heart you shuffle forward, trying to phase through the nearest wall.

What the fuck?

You furrow your brows and huff, irritated. The wall is - well, a wall, and while that was a normal state for others, for you? Unimaginable. Your hands are resting against the concrete and steel, normally easy peasy to walk through. But you feel the hardness under your fingertips, much more intense than it should and almost stinging.

Conventional route it is, then, you think begrudgingly and slowly make your way through the corridor, listening into the stillness of the apartment. The corridor led into a spacious living room - flat, modern couches that screamed money and luxury arranged in a half circle, surrounded by various screens, all turned off. In the middle you see the outlines of a metallic, lavish coffee table, empty and clean like in a catalog. It was the kind of space that wasn’t really meant to be lived in, but to show just how much you had that you didn’t really need. A show.

You scanned the room. There was an open arch leading into a kitchen - also polished and top notch empty, not the cluttered mess you had in your apartment - and a closed, narrow door, likely a storage room. But at the opposite end of it, you see a faint, blue stripe of light, teal blue, luring you towards it. A night light maybe, or some indirect mood lighting shit that was all the rage since LED’s hit the Pentagram a few years ago, shining through a cracked door. Intentionally inconspicuous, your brain whispers, but anything was better than the dim darkness you were stumbling in now. 

When you reach the glowing gap and peek cautiously into the adjacent room, one hand almost on the handle, a groan makes you freeze before you could register what you are looking at.

Oh satan.

Vox.

A LOT of Vox.

The overlord was fucking home, and not just that. In his bedroom - your target location - naked, an impressive and glowing cock in hand, working himself in a way he would definitely not appreciate anyone seeing him in. You felt your neck and cheeks flush with heat - another thing you did not expect nor calculate for. But you can’t look away - as surreal and absolutely dangerous this situation is - his deliciously large hands and the sheer sight of his luminous length glistening with precum as he strokes himself cuts your breath short with highly inappropriate lust. The screen in front of him was bright, and for a moment, you were so enraptured with him that you didn’t recognize the silhouette he was pumping himself to.

You.

It’s you.

In this ridiculous maid costume that was unconsciously riding up your ass, sneaking through the corridor, not even half a minute ago. With growing horror you watch yourself taking tentative steps through the living room, the you on the screen hesitating before deciding to move to the left, one arm reaching out to a cracked open door.

“Fuck, yes.”

The words were barely said when your brain kickstarts.

Fuck, no.

He knew. He knew you were here.

In a flight of panic, you bolted for the corridor, back to the door, back to the safety of not-fucking-here, but you couldn’t even make four steps before your wrists were bound by cables shooting out of the walls surrounding you. You ready yourself to slip through them, but again, your powers leave you high and dry again. Helpless, you back away into the nearest wall, and the door opens fully, with the TV demon standing in the frame. Tall, intimidating even butt-fucking-naked, and a cocky smile on his HD face.

“Hello, my dear,” he almost coos and takes a few steps towards you as you writhe in the restrictions, desperately trying to slip out and get the fuck away. “I’m so glad you got my invitation!”

“Invitation?” That makes you still against the cables, your eyes darting over his face, confused. What the hell does that mean? You weren’t invited, you had a job to... Oh. Oh shit.

“You’re the client?”

His face was answer enough, and you would have slapped yourself for your stupidity if he hadn't had you in an iron grip. A loud game-show ding startles you back into the here and now, he was so much closer than before…

“Sure thing, doll! How else was I supposed to catch a slippery little thing like you without scaring you off?”

He traces his fingers down your cheek, his tips sparking with static electricity. How fucked up are you that this turns you on? Not being able to suppress the need to glance at his still shining and ripped cock again, you swallow hard. Where is your sense of self-preservation? Apparently left outside of this apartment, along with your usual foresight and dignity.

Cables wrap around your thighs and with a yelp you feel yourself getting lifted, legs parted by the wires. You almost topple over but are caught by his hands on your arms and faced with a smirk when you press your back into the wall, stabilizing yourself with a reddened face.

“Those didn’t come with the uniform,” He has the audacity to wink at you, nudging to the black lace panties you wear - excuse a girl for not wearing granny panties in the workplace - and you want to retort something snarky to him, when he looks at you that way. 

Within a moment, you realize two things.

Firstly, with the way he was roaming your body, his eyes lingering not only on your face, but your tits and the flimsy underwear concealing your very obvious wet arousal - you were fucked one way or the other. Which should’ve terrified you. Emphasis on ‘should’.

Because the other thing was, that even though he had bound you, even though you were at the mercy of this powerful sinner who tricked and trapped you here, rendering your power useless with whatever-the-fuck… he didn’t seem malicious, but rather… curious? Fascinated? Playful? You can’t really pinpoint it, but something tells you that - if you play your cards right - you might get more out of this make-pretend job than a jetstream-bathtub and hopefully all your limbs intact. And most importantly - you have nothing to lose.

“They're from my personal collection - lucky coincidence that they match the overall vibe of your staff's... uniform." It takes a lot to steady your voice as you talk, with the way his clawed hands run along the insides of your legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He cocks his brow, as if he's pleasantly surprised, and licks his lips before he answers, his voice sultry and dripping of sexual tension.

"Mh... Luck favors the prepared, I always say. Oh, and speaking of slippery and prepared, sweetheart..."

You gasp as you feel the soft fabric being pushed aside and long fingers running lightly through your drenched folds. Fuck, you can already tell just how skilled those fingers must be. How great they'd feel deep inside you. Involuntarily, you buck your hips to guide them to where you wanted them most - onto your clit and burrowed to his knuckles - the desperation just dripping from you as he chuckles and lets his thumb glide over the throbbing pearl teasingly teasingly as he pushes one of his digits in. Your head rolls against the wall behind you with a needy moan escaping your lips and you have to bite them to stay focussed for what you were about to do.

"What a sight. You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment, doll, seeing you all desperate and fucking..."

The rest of his sentence died in his throat, replaced by a low, long and stuttering moan. Half shocked, half aroused, he looked down to his throbbing cock, then his head snapped up to you, grinning down on him. You moved your hips again, grinding down on his unmoving fingers, frozen in place at his confusion, confirming your suspicion that he didn't know about your other power. Not as strong as your intangibility, sure, but strong enough for him to feel - and see - the ghostly hand you envisioned around his dick, continuing what he started, pumping him in leisurely, slow strokes. 

"Didn't know about that move, doll." His hand comes alive again, and even though his voice glitches a bit he adds another one, much more tenderly and almost softly, properly prepping you. And judging by the circumference of the cock you feel through your spectral hand, it was more than precaution, but nothing less than a mercy. Mercy you were ready to beg for, given his thumb would continue the delicious circles it drew, just the right pressure, just the right pace to push you near the edge without tipping you over it.

"You're just a whole mystery, huh?"

Now fairly certain your head wouldn't roll at the end of this encounter, you let your last reservations slide. It has been too long since you were in the hands of a skilled lover, one that didn't disappoint, that didn't come too soon or drilled amateurishly into you in search for the g-spot they never found. This one knew what he was doing, finally, and by satan you wouldn't waste this opportunity. Make it a night to remember, and who knows? If you fuck his brains out, maybe he'd be knocked out long enough after for you to make a quick and easy exit. You imagined the spectre hand to twist, its thumb mapping the soft ridges around the crown. That seems to do the trick for Vox, and the look he shoots you deeply satisfies. "Fuck me, that's good."

Playing into this sentiment, you didn’t stifle the moans his damn fingers stroke out of you, the way they glide in and out, pressure on all the right marks without fail is too good to hold back. Your skin felt on fire, even without him touching anything but your pussy, and you felt no energy left to care that your clothes - if you would call them that - seemed to fall apart on your body, skirt pushed up to your waist, top loose around your shoulders and almost down enough to let your boobs fall out. You must look a mess, but then again the overlord didn’t seem to mind - quite the contrary. He looked outright hungry, eyes glitching occasionally with a particular squeeze of your hand or a poignant lustful moan from your lips.

“Do you have to concentrate to do that?”

“A little.”

His fingers hitting that one sweet spot inside you, cutting any other, more elaborate explanation short. Fucking hell, that you had to get tricked and trapped by an overlord to find a man that doesn’t think ‘foreplay’ is the interview before a soccer game was a fucking travesty. Grateful for that fact you withdraw from your own pleasure and decided to reward him, regaining your concentration enough to imagine a second hand to pay attention to the firm, very plump balls of his, rolling them in its palm and giving them a gentle, tentative squeeze.

“Cool party trick though, isn’t it?”

As if you challenged him, there’s a subtle change in his demeanor - his eyes more inquisitive, his fingers more eager and fervent, and a third one joined the others, stretching you oh-so-deliciously. For a moment you think you’d lose control, the ghost hands flickering before you got a grip on them again, determined to not tip the scales so soon. But you had to admit - it was tempting, to give into this implied command: Submit, let me take care of you, let me fuck you dumb.  

Little did he know, you were all about equality - or nothing at all. And if he was allowed to plow you with three fingers, surely he couldn’t protest against a third hand.

You weren’t sure how you’d manage it… the power was new, still waiting to be mastered, but you willed a third hand into reality, joining the one on his balls, softly working their way down and massaging his perineum. It strained you to no end, operating the conjured hands while Vox was adamant to make you cum on his fingers alone, but with how the cables shook and loosened around you, you were fairly certain it was enough to show him you meant business, your message clear: If anything, baby, we will fuck each other dumb. 

You watch with almost painful arousal how his screen flashes from the three-way-stimulation, his teeth slightly baring from the sensation but without losing his cocky smirk, as if to show his resilience.

"You'd be the life of any party I know, sugar, if you can pull shit like this out your sleeve."

With a wince from you, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you gaping, empty and fucking whining at the loss, eyes sharp and with a dangerous glint in them. "But you're not the only one with a few secret talents."

He kneels down then, opens his mouth, and you can't believe your eyes as a thick, long, very analog blue tongue unfolds and licks his lips hungrily and almost impatiently. A hand around each thigh spreading you almost impossibly wide, the hot breath feels chilling against your slick opening, and a brush of the tip of his tongue on your swollen clit makes your toes curl and your muscles tense with expectation. Your gaze, locked with his, breaks only when your head throws back and you moan out his name as he truly begins to eat you out. 

No teasing or games, no building up the tension - it's unmerciful, frenetic, his tongue alternately flickering on your clit with its pointed tip and pushing deep into your core with an almost unbearable thickness until there was no space left to be filled, tasting every little centimeter inside. Instinctively, your real hands twitch in their restraints, wanting to reach out, grab his head, the frame of his screen, fucking anything really just to have something of him to hold onto and push. Your hips can't hold still, but he made sure not to lose an inch as his hands gripped your ass down and into him as if he heard your thoughts, drawing you deeper into his maw as he devours you. Your spirit hands fade in and out, your mind unable to keep them steadily corporeal - he was too good, his tongue was too good, not once did his rhythm falter nor the damn thing slow down, giving you no chance to collect yourself.

Finally - oh god finally - his cables loosened enough for you to dart your hands towards him, finding a saving anchor on his arms. You literally felt like you were drowning - wet and out of breath, senses fogged by that wonderfully violent tongue swiping and licking and prodding and fucking pulsing. When he hummed into your cunt, all dams broke, and you could only stutter “fuck, cumming - oh my God-” before you snapped and you fell into the depths of your orgasm.

Whatever prick, mouth or fingers you had on and in you before - this erased them all. Never before felt your head so light, your cunt so heavy and hell so divine.

His relentless licks make you mewl with every stroke as he rides you through your high, but he just doesn’t stop. Greedy, rawing your abused cunt to a point where moans turn into almost pained whimpers and your body twitches and squirms, begging for him to relent.

Mercifully he understands, and when he stands up, you only passingly realize with a pang of bad conscience that your spectre limbs have dissipated somewhere along the line, leaving him high and dry - only metaphorically, because his cock was soaked in leaking cum.

He hooks your legs over his arm, his other snaking around your waist to lift you from the wall, and you made no motion to resist it, being that the prospect of his soft sheets on his bed were much more preferable than color-coated concrete on your back. The short walk over feels like the eye of the storm - a short illusion of a safe space, and you use it to assess the damage.

For one - the ‘clothes’ you wore were useless now, they did nothing clothes were supposed to do - The sleeves were half-ripped from the bralette, hanging by a thread, and the top itself so far down your tits were fully out, nipples dark and flushed, while the skirt was nothing more than a drape at this point, hiding the mess on your thighs and reddened, puffed lips.

Then you look up through your lashes, up to the best lay you ever had, down below as well as up above. You should plan your escape, should use the time you had now to calculate what to do to get the fuck out while you could - Instead your horny little fucked-up brain was busy imagining how you could draw this out, make him so pussydrunk he’d send another decoy job weekly, just so you could return to that magic tongue again and again.

You were right. The sheets felt soft and obscenely expensive. You spread your fingers, the only real motion you were still able to make for now, taking his roaming gaze and the appreciative expression on his screen as a badge of honor. Your senses tingled, and you blinked one, two times, listening into your powers. The walls of his apartment were prepped by him to prevent you from leaving - electricity most likely, something intangible itself - but the ceiling and floors weren’t.

“Got another round in you, baby?”

You look up to him as he wraps your legs around his waist,lining himself up to you, tip ready and loaded. But he doesn’t push in. He waits, and you could cry as he does so.

Fucking hell, the ruthless media overlord half of hell fears to the point they piss themselves is waiting for your consent.

It’s this unexpected, contradictory duality that draws your lips into a smile. Trapping you in his territory, able to kill you with his goddamn pinkie, and yet the only thing he does is make you cum on his mouth and wait for a ‘yes’ to fuck you mindless - how could you not fall for that? Even more, how could you not test your luck with that?

With regained strength you reach for his dick, fingers wrapping firmly around his girthy base. His body follows your gentle guidance, and he lets himself glide into your ready heat with a groan that sends a shiver down your spine - such an earnest sound it makes you want to return the favor tenfold. And you just knew the way you could.

“You don’t need to worry about my stamina,” Voice like honey, you refocus your mind, visualizing the wicked idea that had entered your mind.

A soft hand. Long, flexible fingers, slick and smooth and ready. It formed as you thought it, stroking the cleft of his ass, halting at the tight ring of muscle it found, testing his reaction with a teasing, light press against his opening.

The reaction was priceless. Face glitching, hips jerking violently forward into you as its fingers pass his entrance and slide into him, coming to a halt at that one, very sensitive spot. His breath is ragged and eyes fucking wild, but the way he bends down, gripping your hands to entangle them with yours and pressing as much midnight-blue skin against yours tells you that he doesn’t exactly hate it.

“Worry about your own,” you whisper against the skin of his chest, grinning at the way he shudders at the sultry tone of your voice and the challenging eyes of yours, hilted in your pussy still, taking the ghostly fingers like a good boy.

“Whatever you did to your apartment, you only did it to the walls - the floor is fair game - ah fuck-”

He found some of his senses back, his thrust surprising your nerves with a sudden jolt of electricity - added by him or imagined by you, you can’t tell. He fills you so perfectly, as if molded just for you, big and hard and absolutely sublime, and when he brings his knees up more and bends you at the waist he manages to push in even deeper, pounding almost at your cervix with increasingly feverish, tough thrusts. Again, he wanted to break your concentration, but this time, you were prepared. You let your body do what you trained it to do - it goes hazy, misty, almost translucent in a blue-ish hue, revealing the vision of his buried prick deep inside you, teal glow in navy mist, before you solidify again and find the strength to grin up at him.

“If you cum before I do, I’m out of here.”

There was a wicked glint on that screen of his, and he upped the pace of his snapping hips, pressing you deeper into the mattress.

"Guess you'll have to move in then, baby." His voice sounds almost distorted, his body starts to spark with fizzing bolts of electric energy, and when he grips the headboard with one hand to gain more momentum to fuck even faster and stronger into you, you almost want to take him up on that quip, convinced his apartment was equipped with more than just a boring jetstream hot tub.

Your spirit fingers stroke in a come-hither motion over his prostate, over and over, varying in pressure, intensity and speed, and each swipe makes him moan a little louder, driving his dick a little deeper into you. It's becoming a race towards a finish line none of you wanted to get to in the first place, a fight of wills and bodies, pushing you to your limits judging by the way your oversensitive pussy clenches, begging for release once more. But by Satan himself you did not intend to lose without a good fight, your fingers raking over his lithe back and the sharp edges of his body, lingering, scraping, writing wordless praises into his skin in red streaks.

“In fact, sweetheart,” he says as he pounds you and your pants become out even louder, “I’ll make you cum so hard you don’t want to leave - you’ll scream my name so loud they’ll hear you down in Wrath, know exactly where you’ll be living from now on.”

Vox, too, is close, you can see it, hear it, most importantly feel it. One hand remaining on the headboard, the other scoops you up by your neck, pulling you onto his face in a kiss so breathtaking and fierce you almost pass out. It's sloppy and lustful, it's lips against lips and tongue on tongue, and your ability to use either becomes redundant when you and him both simultaneously cry out, orgasms overlap and intertwine, you cunt clenching tightly around his pulsating length, sending spurt after spurt of hot cum into you as your own release drips onto the soaked sheets below. Your eyes roll back, the fingers buried inside his tightened ass vanish and your muscles relax. With his hand still on your neck, claws digging into your skin, he slowly brings you back onto the mattress to let you fall together with him.

Silence settles for a second. A brief moment of stillness and clarity, sweat cooling your skin, hearts slowing down and breathing returning to normalcy. You feel the aftermath of his touches everywhere. His marks litter you from top to bottom: Your wrists and thighs are covered in red streaks from the tightness of his cable bondage. Your whole skin tingles from the waves of his inherent electric current. But most telling of all was the pooling mess inside of you, already leaking.

You let yourself feel the weight of his body on yours - it's an intoxicating feeling, the heat radiating off his dark blue skin, and the subtle charge beneath, a hidden hum underneath your fingertips, telling of the immense power of an Overlord you just let fuck you senseless. Now would be the time to run - his screen was completely blue, turned off while he recovered his breath - if you wanted, you could disappear, and he wouldn't be able to stop you or track you down. But when you searched the depths of your mind and body for regret and the sense of danger it brought - there was none. Only satiated warmth, an afterglow you could bathe in, like a warm, healing balm, easing your aching bones and bruised skin.

And just in that moment of resolve, Vox’s screen returned to show his face, and he lifted his head slightly to look at you with eyes as bright and vivid as the neon signs lighting up the streets of the entertainment district outside his windows.

One Month Later

“Thanks babes, I was about to lose my shit when Velma and Kelly fucking quit on me. Bunch of pussies, those two, seriously.”

You shoot Velvette a smile over your shoulder, adjusting the last couple of details on six of her girls, ghostly blue hands hovering around them - clipping a collar here, buckling a shoe there. You pity the two foolish girls - the runway show had Velvette occupied tonight, but tomorrow - well, you were sure Vel was about to annihilate their sorry stylist asses for blowing her off last minute… and not just with a snarky post on Sinstagram.

“No problem, Vel, that’s what I’m here for.”

The small woman laughs sarcastically, but not in the usual mean way, but a playful one, a friendly one. That was one of the things you could pride yourself on - That Velvette, social media queen and judge of what’s hot and not, fell in love with you almost as fast and hard as Vox did.

“Darling, we both know that no one really knows what exactly Vox hired you for. What was the job description he pulled out of his flat ass again?” she raises a cocky brow, sipping obnoxiously on her iced coffee to go in her hands, holding out another, identical one for you. “Ah, yes, ‘ASS’.”

You take the drink from her, smiling mischievously back at her. When Vox came up with that title, he didn’t even notice the ambiguity of its abbreviation, and you let him stew over it for almost a day before you told him, silently convinced your fingers left a memorable impression. “It’s ‘Administrative Services Specialist', and what can I say? My resumee was very convincing.”

Velvette snorts into her vanilla foam. “Funny name for your cunt love, but you do you. Now shoo. Didn’t you and flatface have a date tonight?”

You wave her a quick goodbye, sipping up the cold drink in one gulp and throwing it into the trash as you bypass it, hurrying down the hall and plucking the private keycard from your back pocket. You scan it at the elevators, noticing the other employees backing away from you, and you couldn’t hide the grin that flashed your face. No one dared to ride in that elevator with you, a very badly kept secret that it sent you one way straight to Vox’s apartment, and every one of them would rather chew glass than be caught by whatever awaited the opening elevator doors.

And Vel was right - you had a date with Vox, a special one at that.

Barely three weeks ago you actually did move in - call it a whim of insanity, call it fate - and since that, your days were filled with a job in the Vee Tower that you actually liked (no one shed a tear at the ‘Dusty Pages’ closure notice) and the nights were spent naked, sweaty and blissfully explicit under, on top and any other possible way with Vox in his bed. You learned something new about yourself - with the right partner, you were almost insatiable. Another thing you learned was that Vox seemed to feel just the same. Lucky coincidences indeed.

But date night was something special. Giving up the alibi bookshop was easy enough - but you were adamant that you still wanted to do your other jobs.

Not because of the money - Vox provided generously, and wouldn’t take a cent from you (although you managed to convince him to let you buy him at least snacks and small gifts, an exception you abused to the absolute limit). No, you actually liked to sneak through the night, liked the thrill of moving in the shadows and shifting through secured buildings. Liked the excited arousal you felt after a completed heist.

To preserve your secret, you and Vox decided that you wouldn’t reveal your main power to the others at Vee Tower, the only other people who knew were Velvette and Valentino.

The latter wasn’t your biggest fan, and who could blame him, giving that you were living with  and fucking his ex-lover, but he had his own flings and things to take care of, and after a few occasions where you stepped in to help him out at shoots and with his scripts, he at least became cordial towards you.

But date night was where you went out to do a job, secured through Vox for one of his many business partners, and the pool of people the TV demon had on hands that needed or wanted something of value was a bottomless pit from which you could choose the ones you liked the best. And your digital lover not only organized your gigs - he became your eyes and ears, your literal partner in crime.

The doors open, and Vox stands waiting, leaning, in the doorway, arms crossed and a grin on his face.

“You’re late, doll.”

“I know I know, but Vel needed some helping hands - you know I can’t leave her hanging.”

“Oh, I saw.”, he chuckles, his screen switching from his face to images of you from the security cameras on Velvettes floor, close ups of your face, your tits and ass sprinkled in between. ”You know I can never see enough of you, gotta keep those cameras on.”

You scoffed, but did so with a smile before you kissed him and ran off into the closet, undressing quickly while he followed you, letting himself fall down on his bed and watching you intensely as you peeled your clothes from your body and slipped into your signature skintight suit. By the time you were changed his cock was hard, straining his pants which you acknowledged with an appreciative smile.

You both exchange longing looks, but time is ticking. You put the newest addition to your equipment in your ear - a tiny, wireless headset, directly connected to Vox, bend over the bed, your tongue running over the warm line of his lower lip and sigh as he groans with want.

“I know it’s usually payment upfront, baby, but we’re already behind schedule.”

You can’t seem to tear yourself from him with those big hands on your ass squeezing tightly and that goddamn tongue in your mouth, your mind half decided to tell your client to fuck off and fuck the demon in front of you senseless. But he gently pulls away, his eyes burning not only with need, but also with pride. A look you loved to see on him.

“And besides, you are so much more voracious after a job well done.”

He slaps your ass as you pass him, and you shift through the wall, now almost as eager to steal that stupid looking red duck from some dingy, rundown hotel as you were to return to his waiting cock to cash in your salary.

[linnaealyn]

Been working on again off again on a Xenogears portrait mod for two years now, started in Sept 2021 right before I actually finished the game for the first time. Some time ago I started adding upscaled (hand painted) versions of UI elements, so I guess its now a general texture pack I'm working on.

Its done through RetroArch's Beetle PSX HW core real-time texture replacer.

My goal with this is to make a texture pack that stays very true to the original look of the game. I don't want to redesign elements, impose too much of my own influence into it, and make the game look like it had an identity crisis. I still want it to look like Xenogears in the end, just upscaled, and where the portraits are concerned I want it to look as close to the original artwork as possible, with no scanning artifacts and low res quality- as if we actually had digital versions of Tanaka's original artwork.

Also, this isn't intended to be super high res 4k or anything, idc about that.

Figured I'd make a full post here going over everything I've done so far. I'm on the home stretch! Just a few more left.

⬆ Starting with UI. I replaced the red selection arrow, the red/grey spheres, save block icon, save/load text/bar, Walk/Gear icons (more about that one later), compass cardinal points (was unable to get a proper dump of the circular compass texture), and the dialogue diamond and selection diamond within menus.

I totally get it if someone wouldn't want to use something like the dialogue diamond, as you see it all the time right beside the pixelated text and it seems to stand out more in dialogue vs the one in menuing bc your attention is typically focused elsewhere while menuing. In the end, all changes are optional and to remove something all you have to do is move/delete the equivalent img file from the texture replacement folder. Within said folder I have a sub-folder titled "alternate portraits" where I keep alts and things I want to "disable" without outright deleting.

⬆ In combat UI I've replaced the HP/dmg numbers, the Time/AP/numbers, battle palette text (used for other text as well), the circle and tags of the battle palette, Time/AP/fuel bars, green Gear text and numbers, Gear attack level/♾ indicator, black Gear UI backgrounds, and combo icons. The red arrows have been replaced, but unfortunately the black arrows around the red cannot be replaced based on how the game does it; it is not a texture you can change, it is a triangular shaped box that the game fills with the black texture from behind Gear UI.

⬆ Menu/gameplay buttons. Also numbers/"points/fuel/cancel end" Someone mentioned playing with a switch pro controller or joy-cons so I threw an ABXY version together as an alternate button display option. Used the same typeface as the combo icons to keep some consistency with a typeface already in-use as well as for overall clarity.

⬆ Also, DB icons, EP/Fuel/Miss text, and "total damage". Unfortunately, the other DB icons (showing the △🞪☐ highlighted) cannot be replaced as far as I can tell. The battle UI textures (the 17 or so textures of the same thing in varying hues) shows them on it, but changing them in each one of these textures does not change the icons. It does not pull from these specific texture dumps, in other words; its just one of those that doesn't dump, like the circular compass texture.

⬆ In working on the Walk/Gear icons I wasn't sure exactly how I'd go about doing it because the original is literally just that tiny. So I had the idea of putting a little Fei & Weltall in it, outlined by the same grey. Thought it might be weird in the other party members' menus, idk, and I don't like changing things too much from the original, so I decided to just use Fei/Weltall as the grey silhouettes instead. Ill keep the Fei/Weltall one as an alt option if anyone wants to use it.

⬆ And the minimap. Kept B&W so that the colored dots (indicators of where all you can enter an area) aren't difficult to see. I do have a colored version as an alt, though. Credit to Adelinold for having ripped the 3D maps and made a bird's eye view "minimap" esque screenshot of the world map some years back because it is absolutely perfect for use here.

~~~~~

Now onto portraits, the main bulk of the work. This includes dialogue portraits, menu portraits, and gameplay portraits. I go through each one individually, find the highest quality version of the art, and clean it up manually, painting over it to get rid of any jpg rot, scanning artifacts, or print dots from scans while keeping it as close to the artwork as possible. In order to keep colors consistent across the board (because scans of the artwork can vary) I'm picking from the sprites. One portrait typically takes 2.5+ hours, not including testing them in-game. Each one needs to be tested in-game and edited to make sure semi-transparent pixels around the portraits don't result in black or white pixels in the area that should be transparent.

⬆ Direct comparison to the sprites. I'm not too strict about how I match how much of the art is shown, but in instances like this I like to show more of the character than the pixelated portraits allowed for. However, this wouldn't work for everyone as Fei's default portrait is also used when Kim is naked from the hips up.

For the Captain I specifically wanted to get his pipe within frame. Typically the portraits end just behind their ear, have the eyes at 1/2 to 2/3 height, and end just above the clavicle.

⬆ Some portraits like Kim and Elly have no artwork equivalent, but were pretty basic to make with the artwork of Fei & Elly that we do have.

⬆ Other characters have no artwork equivalent whatsoever, like Stein and Wel-Gear Hammer. For Stein I had to take the collar from Stone's artwork and paint something from scratch using Stein's sprite as reference. This one was more fun to do than I expected because its a special case, entirely different from all of the other portraits. For example, usually the artwork has 4 colors for skin- base color, shadow color, deep shadow color (usually seen directly under the chin, used sparingly), and a highlight color for on the nose or lip. But with Stein his skin had many different colors you could pick from the sprite and no equivalent artwork to limit yourself in how many there actually are. So in trying to get it looking just right it took something like 7 different shades of varying pink, red, and orange. It clearly has more dynamic shading compared to all of the other portraits.

For Wel-Gear Hammer... I did my best given what all I could see was even happening in the sprite.

⬆ I made a close eyed Elly portrait as there is no artwork of it and a bomb collar Fei and Hammer portrait using the bomb collar in Rico's art. Its fun playing around with them when there is no equivalent artwork.

⬆ Made an unsmiling Citan to mirror his unsmiling dialogue sprite vs his smiling menu sprites as well as alt Krelians to better match the expression of his mouth that the sprite has vs the artwork. (sprites are always a bit stretched compared to the artwork, btw. even when you rip them from the disc)

⬆ I'm also working on alternate versions, like a two-eyed Bart I did for fun.

~~~~~

It is finished! 1.0 anyway. Right in time for the North American 25th Anniversary! I just gotta get it uploaded somewhere.

I'll continue to work on the ones that I think still need more work, but for now even the ones that are in rougher shape are passable.

Ill have two versions of the mod- one with stretched and cropped portraits that work in 4:3 (much like the sprite portrait bmps in the base-game that end up looking fine in true 4:3. they kind of end up blurrier due to stretching the artwork) (with Crop Overscan set to None) and another version which isn't stretched or cropped so its as crisp as I could get them, but in order to get them to display the image exactly as they are in-game without squishing you need Crop Overscan set to Static (removes horizontal padding) which makes it just slightly off 4:3. Honestly, to the untrained eye its hard to tell it isn't 4:3. 🤷‍♀️ The only thing you might notice it really affecting would be the animated cutscenes.

I'll make a master post for the mod itself, separate from this. This'll end up being a bit of a time capsule for me.

[sed-victa-catoni]

I've been in a long post drought, so here's one. It's not edited as well as the other ones I've posted, apologies in advance. Here's some thoughts about my hearthome, how I found it, and what I intend to do with that information.

I've had multiple hearthomes over the years, some of which have stuck around and some of which has faded. The one that's most important to me right now is an ill-defined area of modern day rural Nevada, which can be best described as "it's mostly northern Nye County".

Some or all of the blue oval, plus maybe some other places I haven't figured out my relationship to yet.

Most of it is uninhabited, but my relationship to it is definitely within the context of being a human being from there, not any sort of nonhuman desert wildlife. (Humans are a species of desert wildlife, if you ask me!)

I knew my hearthome is in Nevada pretty much as soon as I knew the term existed, but I thought it was in Las Vegas or some other part of the Mojave Desert. As Arcade Gannon, that's where I lived my adult life, so I have a feeling of belonging to that place. Now I classify that as just being... from there, no qualifiers other than "it was in a past life".

I never went to Nye County. It's quite far out of the way from anything else, even in the post-apocalypse. I had never personally lived there when I was messing around on Google Earth and I realized "I've been here before."

It felt familiar to me in the same way your primary school building might feel familiar to you. You probably don't remember the exact layout of everything, and your memory of how it felt to be there is colored by your future experiences and what other people have told you about what you were like as a child.

Nobody can ever truly remember exactly how their past felt, just like I can never truly understand what it's like to live in Nye County or Las Vegas. You remember your past much more than I can remember those places because you have a direct, unbroken, physical connection. I don't.

But I do have those flashes of recognition. The layout of a town feeling right in a way I can't describe. A deep sadness when I look at a point on the map which used to be something and is now barely hanging on, like I was there to watch the old schoolhouse collapse. I knew sagebrush had a smell before anyone told me. When I play Geoguessr, I can sometimes distinguish stretches of highway that look almost identical to other stretches of highway because one of them feels like the way home.

I don't think a past life is what's causing this. My past life in Las Vegas feels different, I can't put my finger on how. I don't feel, right now, as if I am Las Vegan. It's a place I've been before and that I'd love to visit again, and I feel a connection to it, but it's not my home right now.

I'm in the middle of a very long-lasting fictionflicker of someone who *did* live in northern Nye County, but these feelings predate that, and they never lived in this world, 2024. That flicker doesn't explain the feeling of deja vu I get when I look at dashcam videos. They didn't know what a car was. I never drove a car there, but, clear as day, I know I should be driving a car there.

I have a general fascination with rural and remote areas of the United States. I spend a lot of my free time reading about a lot of places, and I'd like to visit them someday. I know this isn't just that interest on a more intense level because my interest is that of an observer. I am a person looking down from above at dots on a map, wishing I could drive in and sit at the bar and ask what stories they tell. Their stories, their bar, their dots, their place, their home.

With very few exceptions, I have not felt as if their story is mine. I've felt as if we are a metaphor for each other, as if their history can be used to lay out my life in a way that makes just a little more sense. I've been able to see similarities between my hometown and other towns, to fit them together in a greater story of what it means to be a Midwesterner or to be American or to be bypassed and forgotten as soon as you aren't useful.

But those are not my story. There's always separation. There is no separation here. The story of this place is my story, when I read it I fit in perfectly. I don't have to go sit at their bar, I am already at my favorite bar, metaphorically.

For now, I am Nevadan. I've never lived there, and I will probably never live there. That's okay. I'm a multifaceted person. Nye County is a place that calls out to me, but I have other places I need to attend to. It'd probably make me feel worse to spend a lot of time there and realize "I'm *not* from here, on some level, this is all something my brain made up." I already know that, but it's not something I need to internalize, and for that I am grateful.

I have a hometown I love dearly and feel an obligation to give back to, and I'm very excited to live there. I can hold it dear without ignoring the call of the desert. To let go of either would be the death of me, so I won't.

[writerpyre]

Hello!!

It’s been a LONG time but if you’re inclined to read please have a bonus chapter to an older fic: first time in just over four years that I’ve posted anything for any fandom!

I found it in my files today and being as it’s been so long, I figured why the heck not, as I reckon it’s about time I came back with something. It’s not technically new writing, but I’m pretty gosh darn happy with myself either way. I’m finally at a place in my life where maybe things are going to be ok? I mean, I’m 31.

I’ll see what else the fates bring (my bestie is pretty unwell — not sure what’s with this people closest to me getting horribly sick thing), but I think I’m in a place where if I go back to using my writing to cope I’ll be fine. I can at least hope.

(For those who have by this point probably given up anticipating an update for Fulcrum (or anything related to it) never fear, for that one is next on my agenda! I’m ‘Bound’ and ‘Determined’ to get John through his decade-long predicament. Haha.)

Either way, have a chapter. :)

(For those who are unaware, Kent is my OC, Virgil’s identical twin who died of complications from a heart condition, three days after their birth. Technically part of my AIE “AU”, I originally wasn’t intending to ever post this part, as it’s a practice piece I used to look at who Kent Tracy may have been had he survived past infancy.)

Midnight

The soft sounds of Virgil’s snores rumble through the room from the top bunk, but Kent lays in the bottom bed, wide awake with his pen in one hand, the flashlight in another; scrawling furiously across the pages of his notebook.

It’s past eleven again, and the fourteen-year-old boy can’t sleep; the insomnia from sleeping all day has kicked in again, and all he can do is while away the hours until his father and older brothers roll out of bed. He doesn’t fear waking up his twin brother; Virgil doesn’t wake up unless someone holds the alarm clock right next to his ear; volume up on full, so it’s highly unlikely that he’s going to be disturbed from the light.

He doesn’t mind overly much though, these quiet hours before the dawn. Being one of six children often means that aside from the two hours of study that their father enforces every day, it’s very rare for any of the Tracy children to have any time to themselves without another sibling interrupting it somehow.

It’s nice to have this time to write, and consider and dream without his two youngest brothers asking ‘What are you doing, KT? Can I see? Lemme look!’ he finds it bliss to not have his father wanting him to help with chores or his grandmother wanting him to watch Alan while she takes Virgil and Gordon out, because their father is busy in the office again.

It’s peaceful, and as much as he likes a bit of chaos and excitement, Kent also likes to have some quiet now and again. He loves the way the moon streams through the curtains in the bedroom, how he can listen to Virgil dreaming and feel his brother’s happiness and quiet soul soar through their twin bond.

He feels the pressures of being the sickly child; the one who everyone has to be careful of and look out for too much, and for Kent, these moments when he doesn’t have them looking over him in concern and hovering when he’s ‘too pale’ or ‘overtired’, it just makes him feel more whole somehow. At fourteen, he just wants them to stop seeing him as the ill one and allow him to grow without them worrying that he’s going to overtax his weakened heart.

In these moments, he can remember his mother, and how like him; she was a writer, although with six children before she died, she never got to achieve her dream of getting a novel published. Sure, she wrote for the local newspaper, along with the kindergarten teaching and the music lessons she taught in order to help their father with the monthly bills, but it’s something that Kent knew she always wanted to do. Now she’s gone, he’s more determined than ever to achieve that dream, and make his mom as proud of him as she was as his other brothers.

That’s not to say that he didn’t think she was, but he just wants to do something that his three older brothers haven’t yet.

Kent loves his family, but he just wants to get out of this little box, pre-packaged, made just for him, the one that labels him as the sickly child, the one who is to be worried over and assisted.

It’s not that his father, Grandpa and Grandma don’t expect him to amount to anything, just that somehow, Kent has this invisible label on him that instantly informs people that he’s ill and that he is given just that little bit more leeway to get to places a little easier. There’s nothing more Kent hates more than to be told that he needs to take it easy, or that he can’t do something, just because he’s sick.

That’s why he uses this time, past the hour he should’ve been in dreamland to work harder on anything he ever has in his life, because he wants to make them proud, to break out of the accidental constraints that his condition has placed upon him. He’ll rise above and beyond those automatic assumptions, and prove to everyone that he can do just as much as his brothers. Even if it takes him a little bit longer, even if he has to work a little bit harder, he will achieve his goals.

As he packs up his book and caps the pen an hour later, still not sleepy but content that he’s worked with what he can for tonight, Kent is determined that he’s going to become a published author before he hits his eighteenth birthday, because he’s a Tracy, and for a Tracy, failure isn’t an option.

He’ll lie awake for the rest of the night, and yes, he’ll be completely exhausted and will spend the day in bed tomorrow, but he’ll keep with him through his grandmother’s fussing and John and Scott’s smothering, the peace and tranquillity that this time has given him.

He’s happy, and he knows that if his mother is watching, she’ll be proud.

[sapphic-story]

What's Lee working on in 2024?? A Mini Guide:

I have a better job with slightly less hours so hopefully it is time for creative things again yippee!! Text under cut

Slide 1:

Liho (comic)

Themes: definitions of love, social expectations, relationships dynamics, idealization

Welcome to the loveliest campus in the world, protected by the ever adored Cupid Heart!

Ifeolewa is a sophomore college student that has been chosen to become a magical girl and defend the sanctity of love around her school!

…unfortunately, Ife has a 5th grader’s understanding of love at best and doesn’t quite understand the complexities of modern relationships and romances.

Now, Ife juggles school, fighting villains, “fixing relationships”, and trying to win the heart of her crush, Liho (her best friend’s incredibly recent ex-girlfriend).

Slide 2:

Slips of the Stars (comic)

Themes: loneliness, abandonment, free will vs fate, individual perspective

Kaasey “Slips” Marion is a aimless, bored, burnt out college student who doesn’t know where they’re going in life. 

They’re also convinced that every person around them is literally in a story, meticulously recording the story details in her notebook. They believe they are a background character in these stories, probably for comic relief.

Also, every day the world ends and then she wakes up at the beginning of the day again. 

That one’s new.

Slips has to step out of the shadows and work with her main characters to figure out what’s happening, why, who’s causing it, and how to help this story finally have its happy ending before time runs out.

Slide 3:

Hospital Food (achronological ergodic novel-y thing..?)

Themes: Mental health and chronic illness, identity, multigenerational relationships, life and what could lie beyond it (if anything)

Sickly new employee Ward devoted her time and energy to her new job at an inpatient care facility for individuals with deadly parasites eating them alive. Ward and her team fought day and night to save patient lives from the very same parasites that threatened Ward’s life more and more every second.

Now, Ward, her coworkers, and their clients are nowhere to be found. The facility they worked and stayed at no longer exists. 

What happened? Where did they go? Is anyone left alive? All that’s left are the forgotten files, notes, and memos collecting dust in abandoned desks and drawers, waiting to be discovered.

Slide 4:

Other odds and ends 

I share story custody with some friends on some things about spies, zombie apocalypse, urban fantasy mysteries, and more magical girls

You might see me posting about an experiment I did polling college students about loneliness and their relationship to technology

Additionally might also just generally see things for my class/work 

There’s also a lot of story ideas and tropes that I really like (see next slide) so you’ll see a lot of very specific tags regarding those concepts 

I like playing with different mediums like art, writing, music, video games, and many more!

All the art in this is my own :) save for the jojo reference

Slide 5:

About the Author

Hi I’m Lee sapphic-story

I’m a 22 year old Black American lesbian

I use they/them pronouns

I’m a master’s student in educational psychology and work in a community college system to enhance student services 

I have a lot of specific interests including…

Time loops

All things urban fantasy

Perceptions of love

Familial relationships

(Former) christianity 

Atypical relationship dynamics

The physical/emotional/ psychological effects of being a “hero”

Story structures

Self aware characters

And way more I have so many tags 

Stay tuned for further story updates

[yukipri]

hi i hate to be a bother but i love your fic but i cant get more than a dozen or so chapters in bc i keep getting horrible anxiety about how the "present" time is ready to explode and i cant read longfic if it ends badly, could you say if the "present" time has a good resolution? no pressure at all, if you dont want to do that ill just wait for the return to the "present" and get the spoilers from my friends reading it

Thanks for liking my fic! Even if you're only able to get through part of it ^ ^;

So, hmm. I'm going to do my best to answer your question. I hope you understand that I don't feel comfortable (or frankly, capable) of telling you how the fic ends, as we are very very far away from that still (plus, I'm writing the fic for a reason!).

I can say that I personally do not consider the present "ready to explode" in any way. It is, in my opinion, the calmest time that the clones have ever experienced in the short, 13 years of their existence. Sure there's a lot going on, but for the very first time, they are in control of their own fate, and mostly have the upper hand. Is Sidious still out there? Yes. But Sidious is just as confused as, well, Obi-Wan right now, and he is actively on the run, which is more than can be said of any point we've seen of him in canon. Are there other threats too? Of course, but again, for once the clones are able to choose how to act without hiding. If anything, it's post-explosion, the explosion being the Override.

Why do the clones feel so in control? Well, that has to do a lot with the actual mechanics and process of the Override, which we are piecing together in the past.

It's true that Obi-Wan is a bit alarmed and very confused because he doesn't know what's going on. But he'll be alright, because the clones are, again, very calm and in control, and he'll take his cues from them. One of his purposes in the present is to be the audience lens through which new developments are revealed, but most of these things are not new or alarming to the clones, and they are the ones this all primarily affects. Will the clones tell Obi-Wan everything immediately? Of course not. But again, one of the purposes of writing this story non-chronologically and going into the past is so that you, the reader, can understand what's going on, and when the clones choose to share something with Obi-Wan, know the full context of that. Either way, Obi-Wan is a side character and not the primary focus in this story!

While there will be developments and action in the present eventually, right now it's far more a time of reflection, at least for the clones. There is going to be a lot of coming to terms with the past, personal reflection on identity, culture, freedom, the Republic, and the future of their new home. There is going to be more exploration of their life, and lots of politics and what it means to run a people that is no longer under subjugation. There is going to be following up on stuff from the war. There is going to be a significant amount of angst. However, nothing will "explode" for a very, very long time—we don't yet have enough context for that.

In comparison, I consider much of the "past" to be lighter, because sure it covers the war which is dark, but it's also familiar to us via canon media, except there's now the undercurrent of knowledge of all these networks and safety measures that exist, as well as new tools that Jango is actively working on. So it's bad, but we know it's not as bad. There's also just a lot more humor, since everybody (especially Jango) is still figuring things out! In the present, we kinda see the polished version after they become pros ^ ^;

We should be returning to the present in a few chapters (no clue how long those chapters will take), but a fair warning that it will be written with the assumption that you have read all previous chapters. Skipping all of the past will probably mean that a lot of it won't make sense, and I'm sorry, but I won't apologize for that, nor will I explain it when it's explained in the fic! The past bits do exist for a reason! And not just the events, but the thought processes that the characters had in the past will affect their present.

Likewise, we won't just stay in the present once we're back; after a while, we'll return to the past again, and probably eventually jump back to the present, etc. That's just how this story works.

Again, I'd rather not comment too much on the actual ending but, I do not consider this story a tragedy. It's not as simple as a fix-it either, and there's plenty of angst along the way, but I don't think you need to worry about it being a horrible conclusion.

I hope this answers your question! And I hope I didn't spoil myself too badly. Everything above that is not yet written is subject to change, because I do not want to limit my writing to what I said in an ask response, but I think this is a decent idea of what to expect.

I'm not here to tell you how (or even if!) to read my story, but yeah, the past is essential, because the present would not exist without it.

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

[localgardenweed]

Ok I was originally gonna write how I wanna go back to Eddsworld and do stuff for it again but felt out of the loop with the modern fandom and shit but ended up being a rant about how I hate Beyond so like gonna write this again but keeping part of the rant cause i need to share how much i cant stand Beyond again

So like I wanna come back to Eddsworld cause as much as it was a dumpster fire for me it was my first real fandom I was apart of online so it holds a place in my heart. I mean probably technically whatever I did on Framecast was my first ever online fandom space but shhhh that dont count i was but a wondering traveler looking for my place in the world. It actually got me into Eddsworld someone made a animation to Youth by Daughter and had me hooked. But still was very important to me and my art development.

Its so crazy to me cause i was into Eddsworld HARD in the 2016-2020 era where alot of the ig modern fandom was born i watched cities fall and crumble I was deep in the amino trenches, Pork Sodaing and seeing so much historical fandom events happen before your eyes. I was watching everyone consume every piece of Prince of Mints and Moho art I was a sucker for them which probably wasn’t okay for like a 5th grader but i definitely turned out all right /j.

I left for a little bit on and off cause Hetalia was choking me and like keeping me prisoner but like it still had a place in my heart for it but like ya know i still was there but idk now I just dont find the same spark anymore from the first go around. Something changed and maybe cause i just had my tastes change and maybe cause my ex-best friend was making fun of my oc all the time but i made him when i was like 11 and figuring out identities and ways to express yourself without sticking to the gender norms and dealing with alot of stuff at the time i finally caved and just didn’t feel the same any anymore about the show.

Cause I loved that fandom more than anything but, I don’t know I just don’t know how to get back that spark and go frolic in the fields with my TomTordOc love triangle of my 5th grader dreams and just be cringe and free and feel joy again but I just cant enjoy the material anymore like THEY ARE MASSACRING MY BOYS WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO THEMM

It doesn’t hit the same and i know i dont need to consume Beyond i doubt anyone actually does at this point but i cant stand beside while they murder everything i loved about the Classic and Legacy eras.

Also just, I think I hit a road block with it too like, I got stuck on where to do and what to do with Eddsworld like. I make aus i made ocs i made a ask blog i made animatics, now what? And like idk i felt weird and like stuck in the mud with them. Also just had the friend falling out who was also the co-creator of the ask blog so now i dont know how to pick it back up all by myself again but them again i really was just doing it by myself all the time anyway so i just have to figure out how to get back into the swing of things

I have some ideas for aus and maybe just finally be free and bring my oc back from the grave for realsies and make you all consume it but, I don’t know. Im scared to come back cause also weirdly alot of the new fans are younger than me or the older fans are older than me so its kinda awkward, also im just awkward im scared to talk to people online, there is and were some people i desperately wanted to be friends with both in and out of Eddsworld but im too scared and either just watch from afar or abuse the Anonymous function in ask boxes. 

If i cave enough i might come back to Eddsworld to at least finish my lore for the ask blog cause IM SORRY I LEFT YALL HANGING I HAD SCHOOL AND THEN JUST FORGOT ABOUT IT but forever haunted by the people who like every single post and then i get excited cause i see like 99+ notes waiting for me and i think one of my new posts blew up but no its just the ew boys who screw around likes and reblog and the occasional comment

One day ill return to my rightful birthplace and one day I shall be free and one with nature and draw as much as I want for it and as many ocs i want without someone telling me its cringe or make more for the ask blog or hell start doing animation and animatics again

Ok here is the Beyond rant now if you wanna read it

I feel the difference between Beyond and Legacy is that, Beyond is trying to horriblycopy their older brothers Classic and Legacy and almost dumb it down a bit with more childish humor, and Legacy takes inspiration from Classic: It’s different but a natural difference/evolution. Or the fact a whole new guy was writing it all with a slightly different style so he wrote what he knew idk maybe a bit of a factor idk

Also i cant stand the Tord bait sorry I cant, especially when they used to like get annoyed by the fandom by asking and then just realized he was a cash cow so like now we get Tord merch and the hints and Tori and the skit with the cavemen like OMG TORD- and he got crushed by a rock thanks gang, cause like dude I think as much as we love Tord like maybe this go around respect Larson’s choice to like not use him in the series anymore and take him out but like ig that doesn’t apply to merch so yeah lets do one more go around bring out the red one. Or idk maybe they contacted him and was like “yo dude can we like use him for merch” but i dont think that happened. I think it was just better to leave him absent from the show and be like “yeah no Tord guys, no Tord” and we could have all had our thumbs up and be like “Ok Eddsworld Beyond we are okay with that”. Like I know Red October was for charity but idk it still felt weird to use Tord, like could this really not have just been the main 3 or like bring in some deep cut old characters or side characters did we really need Tord here.

[whitehotharlots]

Taylor Swift: The BPD Christ

The New York Times just ran a reeeaaalllly creepy, 5,000 word piece speculating that Taylor Swift is secretly queer. It follows a pattern familiar to those of us who spent any time on schizoid identity tumblr in the early twenty-teens, purporting that Swift has long been issuing secret, coded messages in her lyrics and manner of dress:

When looking back on the artifacts of the months before that album’s release, any close reader of Ms. Swift has a choice. We can consider the album’s aesthetics and activism as performative allyship, as they were largely considered to be at the time. Or we can ask a question, knowing full well that we may never learn the answer: What if the “Lover Era” was merely Ms. Swift’s attempt to douse her work — and herself — in rainbows, as so many baby queers feel compelled to do as they come out to the world?

Understandably, the piece generated a strong sense of confusion and disgust among people whose brains have not yet completely melted. And you might be wondering... just, how? This shit was disquieting enough when it was confined to the blogs of mentally unwell pre-teens. How did this get printed in the country's largest newspaper? A-and not even in the Entertainment section, this was a featured OpEd.

Well, I got a theory. Stick with me:

It's very common for pre-pubescent girls to develop strong emotional/romantic attachments to celebrities and pretend that they're dating. These fantasies usually resolve themselves by the the time the girls fully enter puberty and begin experiencing sexual attraction to people around their own age.

I read an academic paper about this years ago. I can't find it now, but here's a good summary from Psychology Today:

Consider crushes are of two kinds – identity crushes and romantic crushes. In both cases, the teenager feels smitten by a compelling person who captivates their attention, for good and ill. (A third kind is the celebrity crush that shapes ideals and stirs fantasies, but there is usually no interpersonal contact to play them out. However, this is definitely where the market for celebrity posters comes in, to decorate teenage bedroom walls.)In all three cases, the young person largely projects onto another person idealized attributes the admirer highly values and wants to be associated with. Then she or he attaches strong positive feelings to the perfectly wonderful image that has been created. Crushes have more to do with fantasy than with reality, and they tell much more about the admirer than the admired. It’s because they usually prove unrealistic that in a relatively short time they soon wear off. But it is because of the idealization that crushes have such momentary power. This is why parents need to respect an adolescent crush and not dismiss or put it down. After all, it is an early approximation of love. While it lasts it is seriously held, so it should be seriously treated.

Again, this is completely normal when it's done by young girls.

My theory is as follows: I think people stop emotionally developing at whatever age they become terminally online. If you start posting at age 11, you're going to emotionally be 11 years old until you die.

I sincerely believe this is the only explanation for Swift's messianic popularity. She is the Christ figure for grown women with severe personality disorders, which is basically every woman who was born after 1990 or so. Taylor is not just an artist, nor even an aspirational figure. They've all convinced themselves that Taylor is their best friend and that she just happens to evince all the traits they desire in a woman who exists without sin. Anything that contradicts this--such as Taylor being a straight woman--must be refuted.

[theclosetedskeleton]

tell me about the self-ish characters pleas😞i do not care how long the post is /nf

GRAJ ALRIGHTY

gotta mentally think about what im gonna say uhhh

SELF- + -ISH

Okay so I imagine them to have been these twins who got,, fused together? something like that. Occasionally one or the other will take control or whatever of the fused body, and that's usually able to be told by the colors that they wear and slight difference in appearance. Both of them wish to be "themselves again", however there isn't really a way for them to be that again. They are the only character that I DONT have a design OR a name/names for, so I'm just gonna refer to each side as their song counterparts. Self- is calm, quiet and more so the emotional one of the two. -Ish is arrogant, worrisome and quick to jump to conclusions. I haven't thought abt separate identities for the two, although (both of) their pronouns are they/them.

2012

okay i actually have a name for this oc so i gotta dig up my sketchbook rq

OKAY BACK

(STOP WHY DO THE PROPORTIONS LOOK LIKE TAHT )

2012's real name is Morana. She's a Theorist, mainly trying to solve some of the wackiest mysteries that the universe she lives in has to offer, but mainly her own. Morana is struck with some sort of unknown illness, one that progressively gets worse. She doesn't remember how she got it, but she remembers when (guys this is gonna be a really hard one to answer,,, hmmmmmmm

she got the illness around 2012).

Her eyes appear abnormally, looking like black doll eyes. Many colorful cracks form on her skin eventually breaking to reveal her inner body. Its the worst on her face, with her having to cover it with a machine that allows her to see that kind of looks like a VR headset. The cracks and abnormalities will eventually lead to her death, and that's what Morana's trying to theorize about. She thinks that if nobody will know how she'll die, she'll figure it out herself before the time comes.

Bit of personality here -- Morana is a Talkative person, yet tends to be an anxious + nervous person. However, along with the Anxiety, she's driven by that (one of those people that are motivated BY anxiety). She's nonbinary, Bi, demisexual, and her pronouns are She/Her.

Cotards solution

Think abt that one friend in the friend group that's off the rails/pos

Loud, dramatic and forgetful a lot of the times, Cotards solution is yet a character shrouded with mystery. Resurrected by unknown forces, a man unknown by, well, everyone enters the scene. Cotards doesn't have a name (not bc I didn't think of one shhhh), mainly because nobody can put a name to the rotting face. He knows and believes he's dead, yet many people don't believe he is. He feels as if the body he has will be at peace if he's dead, because he already is, but everyone will believe he died just for the cause of it.

His body is translucent, and what shows underneath his skin are just his bones. Thats mainly because hes mainly a skeleton with magical counterparts giving him another life (he still has many human features though). Cotards dissociates a lot and tends to stop talking mid-sentence.

Cotards has a third eye. It tends to disappear and reappear, not necessarily with or without a reason. He constantly wears these red three-framed glasses for his eyes. Im not quite sure what else to add uhh. Cotards is gay and uses he/him pronouns.

Mr. Capgras

Mysterious, quiet, and a nervous wreck. Mr. Capgras, first name Victor, is probably the oldest of all of the SELF-iSH characters. Formerly an engineer, Victor struggles with visions and illusions of the sense. Consistently seeing ghosts and hearing voices, not to mention the everlasting fear of everyone being not who they say they are and that they're out to get him !? jesus christ,. someone go get him therapy NOW speaking emoji fire emoji!!!!

He's very paranoid, and will avoid almost any social interaction because of this. He also has really bad trust issues, not mainly bc of his fears, but also because once he gained this strange illness and paranoia, everyone in his life left him. He also gets visions of the same people (the same people in question turn out to be the other SELF-iSH ocs).

He has these blemishes and scars on his skin that don't heal, With beady black eyes like Morana's/2012's. They don't share the same canon illness, however (none of them do, minus one character that ill get to). He is constantly wearing those like. floral designed suits. or just suits in general. idk what's up with that. He's Agender, Panromantic, Grey asexual and uses He/Him pronouns.

The song with 5 names

Your average guy. except uhh we cant have that here, its fused with 4 people (or, more specifically, their minds) . Their original name is Vincent, but is barely called by that name anymore. The four people in question are Morana, Cotards, Victor and the character of "Hand me my shovel, I'm going in!" .

Constantly on edge, hyper and shakes way too much. It changes personalities FAST, Mainly because of the 4 different (mind) fusions. Vincent tends to talk to himself a lot, mainly because it tries to send messages to the 4 of them.

I JUST ACCIDENTALLY DELETED A PARAGRAPH OH MY GOD

Their body is covered in cracks, holes, patterns and abnormalities of the like. Along with this, the abnormalities are never fluid, and are constantly changing. Little physical fact - Vincent had heterochromia, and now thats developed into a cracked beady eye and A completely blank white eye. Vincent uses He/it/they pronouns, and is aroace + genderfluid.

Hand me my shovel, I'm going In!

Burned out + tired character of the ocs. Dawn is a conspiracist/ theorist who tried to find someone that hasn't ever existed. She looks for the answers to a solution of a problem that hasn't even been thought of, yet wont be denied that the person doesn't exist. The person was the love of dawns life, and needs to find an answer as to where they went.

Dawn occasionally sees ghosts from time to time and also experiences hallucinations. One could speculate that the "love of her life" WAS a ghost, but the evidence isn't enough to prove it yet (oh my god making references to the original songs its so fun ANYWAYS).

I imagine Dawn and Morana to be like theorist buddies. what if plot twist the love of her life in question WAS Morana BEFORE the illness?? Except she didnt know Morana changed??? hmmmmm muhahah

Dawn constantly wears suits. Like. you could be going to the motherfucking grocery store and BOOM suit and tie. not the point. Dawn has multiple scars on her face and hands, due to physical injuries. She has dark heavy eyebags, and is pale as a ghost due to malnourishment. Her pronouns are She/her and is a demigirl + lesbian.

Dr. Sunshine (is dead)

by far my most worked on character probably. Dr. Sunshine, Also known as William sunshine (Yes this IS a reference to WW's old work), has been at and through many places at a time. Working with all sorts of magic, the "good" or the "bad" kind, or the things that feel like magic (uhhh drugs), He'll get his hands on. From working as a "doctor" to A ringmaster (I'd go into depth into that but that's a verbal equinox territory), hes done almost all of it. He's done WAY too many bad deeds to be considered "wanted", yet nobody seems to know him.

Charming yet mysterious, It feels like he seems to know everyone. Maybe its because he actually does !!!

Plot twist grahh!!! hes been behind all of the "illness's" and "diseases", and fusions of the like. Yes, even Cotards resurrection. In fact what if i told you that Dr. Sunshine resurrected Cotards to be with him once more !!!! Diversity win! the ocs are gay!

WEHJAKSKS

GETTING OFF TOPIC!!!!! Yes, Dr. sunshine resurrected Cotards to not have to deal with the pain of forever losing him, and when that didnt (seem to) work, he tried fusing him (parts of his mind to be specific) with someone else, however accidentally fusing 3 other people in the process.

Physical features!!! Dr. Sunshine has that Iconic coat i always draw him in, but since there may be other people who read to the end of this, Dr. sunshine has a white doctors/lab coat with many stripes and patterns on it, with (human) eyes on one sleeve. Dr. Sunshine also has a Third eye, and markings/abnormalities covering his body. Dr. Sunshine may or may not be already dead, Its hard to tell as to how many times hes died. Lastly Dr. Sunshine's pronouns are He/him, and hes Bisexual.

CONCLUSION

OH MY GOD. this post is gonna be so fucking long. I hope whoever read this enjoyed reading it because this shit took me 2 hours GRAH

ALSO if this has any errors im sorry bc i wrote this at 4 am for anyone who stumbles across this post later

[kaeyachi]

Hello it is I, the local trans girl kaeya truther <3 anyways I need to hear ur thoughts on mtf/transfem genderqueer kaeya bc u mentioned it on ur recent post and it got me EXCITEDDD

OH BOY I HAVE A LOT OF HCs. mtf, ftm, or genderfluid Kaeya stays on my mind rent free at the penthouse luxury unit with allowances, free wifi, and breakfast buffet.

For now, let's focus with mtf Kaeya!

- Kaeya/Gaia(jp) liking her birth name because it's commonly feminine (it's how I personally feel IRL with having a masc name despite being afab, so I'd like Kaeya to feel the joy and comfort it brings me hehe). If her parents did 1 thing right, it's naming her.

- Kaeya being proud of her chest since it has grown (thru workout for now), leading to the uniform choice. She didn't fully understand why she felt happy about it for a while.

- Same with the corset! She feels better looking at the mirror with the corset on.

- Kaeya feeling comfortable hanging out with the girlies because of having similar interests. It was probably hard to notice when younger because both Jean and Diluc wanted to be knights, and she simply followed them.

- I like the idea of Kaeya figuring out a bit later in life. Being distracted with more pressing issues made it a bit harder to come to terms with how she feels tbh. It was a slow journey, but she got there, and it felt amazing once she realized.

- I want Jean to know first!! Jean would give Kaeya so many hugs and affirmations!! Jean gets another sister (when Barbara found out, she felt the same as Jean)

-re: new skin. Kaeya, still feeling a bit confused and lost when she looks at a mirror, decides to let her full head of hair grow longer instead of just keeping a lovelock. She knows she doesn't need long hair to be more fem, but it makes her feel more secure about her identity.

- Sumeru visits aren't just for wine trade negotiations and learning more about her ancestry. She also went there to ask questions about transitioning

- Kaeya scaring Diluc into thinking she has a terminal illness before telling the redhead the truth lmao. Diluc is glad Kaeya isn't dying and is proud of Kaeya (willing to fund the costs of transition), but he really wants to strangle her first...

- When younger, Adelinde found Kaeya trying on her clothes. Young Kaeya was so mortified at being found that she didn't dare try again despite Adelinde saying it was fine and that she's willing to help her try out more. It took more than a decade before adult Kaeya went to her to accept her offer to help. Adelinde finally gains a daughter she can dress up

- Kaeya finally joining in with the girlies when they have makeover parties and girls night outs! It's the best fun she has ever had and she wants more!!

- the male knights became a bit protective at first when they were told (especially since their captain frequents the bar, and even prior to saying she is mtf, she already had a fair share of admirers and creeps there) until Kaeya reminded them that she can still kick all of their asses in training (and she did kick their asses)

- the female knights feel like they won something. The top 2 people in power right now while Varka is away are women. Technically, only Albedo is the male captain within Mond (technically hehe) (Nation leaders meeting and its all women)

- Alice finding out and offering to help Kaeya to transition!! Albedo, Sucrose, and Lisa are studying more about it to help out as well instead of having Kaeya frequently visit Sumeru

- Klee calling Kaeya "big sis"!! And when playing, Kaeya is now the queen while Klee is her princess

- The abyss order finding out and are unphased, but this is duly noted and they will respect it

I just want mtf Kaeya to be loved by his friends and family!!!

[oldmemoria]

i have a lot of unorganized miguel headcanons that float around my brain at times but since i usually think of them at night and forget about them the next morning im just going to continuously update this post probably? anyway here are the ones that i do remember

i will either leave this in my drafts and update it when i want to or ill just edit/reblog with new stuff idk

edit after i stopped typing:

ok its time

fuck you

posts

identity headcanons first, because idk getting those out of the way feel free to get pissed off about these ill just block you 💖

trans man. he/him pronouns. probbably doesnt care if you use gender neutral terms for him because like... why would he, he has a multiverse to stare at

asexual, can't really figure out of i see him as being aromantic as well, i personally just think he's too busy to think about it atm but i dont think hes incapable of it. maybe arospec, like demiro or greyro or smth idk, i just know this mf is asexual.

he is autistic (and probably undiagnosed?) i will die on this hill as if i was a warrior cat defending the sunningrocks i will commit an oakheart fight me on this and i will throw rocks at you and then promptly get crushed by rocks as well (is that warrior cats spoilers um oops sorry)

now to the rest- that i remember- i have not read the comics yet so if some of these are like.. actually canon lmk because that would be really funny

this one might be a hot take but he does not hate miles. he wants to look out for him and definitely either currently regrets or is going to regret what happened in that chase scene. i genuinely doubt he hates any of the spider-gang hes just very, very worried about the multiverse. in his head thats the only way. (i am hoping and pleading that miguel and miles make up somehow, maybe miles doesnt forgive miguel and that totally understandable and would make sense but pLEASE writers i would die if you kept them as being rivals i genuinely would)

he hates Audrey Hepburn, fangoria, harry houdini, AND croquet. he CAN swim, he CAN dance, and he DOES know Karate. he still wont make it though. sorry man.

since hes from the future i dont think he'd be terribly confused by current slang/terms, hed more look at it like we see terms from like... the 80-90s or anything before that as "oh wow people used to say that? huh. interesting."

im going back on a headcanon ive had since i saw the movie im SoRRYYY but he cant curse. from what ive seen from the comics he uses replacements like "shock" and "bithead", thats it. maybe he says fuck on accident or in spanish (he technically kind of does depending on how you see "Ay Coño" being said but thats beside the point).

probably a blue eyes hater idk he just gives me the vibe of saying "jesus christ your eyes are way too blue, get contacts please im begging you stop looking at me" which is probably why him and gwen have so much beef.

i dont give a shit about what the movie says his fangs are not retractable fuck you. (he still has crooked teeth though i will never forget about those <3 )

autism be damned my guy can work a grill 🔥🔥🔥🔥

a lot of people cant really tell if hes pissed or not by his tone sometimes. is this projection? yeah, next question.

he hardly ever sleeps but when he does its like hes dead (at least when its dead quiet, which again, isnt often so he hardly ever gets a good nights sleep). you'd have to use a fucking blowtorch to the face to wake him up.

i also see him as not only having hypersensitive vision but also having elevated senses period. hearing, smell, touch, etc. probably the main reason he sits in the dark with no other noise.

branching off of that he frequently gets migraines of things get to stressful or too loud or if anything is very off about his schedule.

arachnophobe. ha.

cat person.

cat person as in he likes cats not like hes a catboy.. i shouldnt specify that actually that just makes it worse but i will anyway because tumblr hellsite will be tumblr hellsite

he partially likes lego peter because his daughter really liked lego.

ok but like think about it he'd probably be really good at taking legos apart with those claws. like imagine. it'd be nothing for him.

hasnt spoken to gabriel in years. he cant bring himself to reach out and when gabriel does he just doesnt have the energy to try and respond. he has no idea how to, especially now.

this is very specific but he stims a lot with his claws. like extend and retract over and over absentmindedly (mainly because thats what i'd do if i had claws imagine how fun that would be)

he usually bottles up all the emotions that he has, including anger. kind of explains why he lost it in the chase scene in my head because he reached a boiling point. he hates talking to people about his problems.

empanadas are his safe food, also theyre just easy to eat when your mouth is a little funky (i would know i have some fucked up braces theyre great for that 10/10), its mostly just easier on his fangs.

definitely horrible at the whole self are thing. he just forgets, all the time. would forget to breathe if it wasnt involuntary

if you say anything he doesnt particularly like (eg "hey bro are you okay do you wanna talk") he'll just stare at you with his rat eyes like 👁️👁️ until you stopped idk what im saying.

he is a bit touch starved, depending on his mood he'll let people touch him in a friendly (emphasis on friendly. friendly friendly friendly dont take it any other way :/) way.

OH I almost forgot about this one: he hisses. some spiders hiss. so does he. vampire furry energy

he also gets pissed when people call him a vampire so uh... im counting my days oops.

will go out and sit in the rain. (wait would it still rain in the future? is the climate still fucked in his timeline or nah)

like "ah, its water time" and goes out to sit like this:

Man if only there was a rain filter

that is all i have for now maybe if something else comes up ill reblog with new stuff >:)

[exvangelicalrage]

Hi

Hey! I’m new-ish to tumblr (been a lurker for years but just recently attempting to become more active) so figured I should introduce myself. Also, I’ve seen a bunch of people introducing themselves so I’m copying them haha

I’m Ariele. I’m a full-grown grown up hurtling toward middle age (30+), she/her, a full time writer, exvangelical, agnostic, absurdist, neurodivergent, straight, cisgender, am white, and have CPTSD and a light-bulb brain. I like cats, Good Omens, The Good Place, Doctor Who, Futurama, piano, painting, and trees. Also I have a very large dog and am married. I live in the US, currently in PA, but have also lived in NH, MD, NC, and NY, and we will likely be moving again soon. Also I like to say fuck a lot. And I flip off churches and christian billboards anytime I drive by one.

I left christianity over ten years ago now. I was raised in the evangelical tradition and got involved with an almost-cult in my late teens. I was all in, mostly because my mother was ill and I was concerned she would drop dead at any moment and I’d never see her again unless I made it to heaven. I started a self-study in apologetics when I was about 13 to be the best christian possible. Between the logical inconsistencies in scripture, the shitty attitudes of christians at every church I attended, and the sexism, racism, homo/transphobia, and anti-poor people I saw at every turn, I eventually got to a point where I couldn’t believe anymore and I bailed. My leaving was a catastrophic event in my family, and has continued to fuel conflict since.

At some point, I plan to attach my real life identity to this blog but, despite being 10+ years out, I’m still anxious about my family/people from my past reading it, so I haven’t quite made the leap. But I’m open about most of my history so feel free to AMA. 

I also post my essays here: https://sites.google.com/view/exvangelicalrage/home if you want to read through them without all the other reshares and whatnot. <3

[campgender]

mac’s tags

links + descriptions under the cut

note: some of these tags tumblr doesn’t like to link because of special characters; those will be added as tags to this post so they can be accessed from there.

all of the excerpts i post are tagged as “mac’s bookshelf.”

butch, femme, both

everything goes back to femme – some of the infinite fem(me) ways, both my own & others’. line from “Between My Fingers” by Stacey Park Milbern

they are our stigmata – butches & butch ways. line from “The Butch Question” by Judith P. Stelboum

butch/femme – romantic, platonic, sexual, & beyond

but what gets it for me is high femme – high femme posts & resonances; line from Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg

οἱ λίθοι κράξουσιν – “the stones will cry out,” from Luke 19:40. tag for stone sexuality more broadly - stone topping & bottoming, clothed sex, sex without touching

mutual polarization – femmebottom4femmebottom; answers to the perpetual “what’re they gonna do, get in bed & hold hands?”

double role playing – futch, stem(me), & others who embody both butch & fem(me) identities. phrase from a quote by narrator Mattie interviewed in Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold

sex

impurity culture – sex ed & building a sexual ethic

tomorrow sexting will be good again – sexting-as-sex + related practices & boundaries. a play on Foucault’s quote “tomorrow sex will be good again,” also the title of a book by Katherine Angel

places to be had by – non-normative sex from a crip high femme lens. denial, vaginismus, impotence & other non-penetrative wonders. line from “The Cure for Melancholy Is to Take the Horn” by Natalie Diaz

another night wandering the desire field – longing & fantasy; line from “From the Desire Field” by Natalie Diaz

eat your meals at the red table of my heart – the feminine urge to treat a man like your dog & other assorted high femmedom viscera. line from “If I Should Come Upon Your House Lonely in the West Texas Desert” by Natalie Diaz

why not take me now as i am? – kink, leather, promiscuity, cruising; line from “Shameless” by Tyler Glenn

bottom text – bottoming & the meanings imposed on it

one must imagine the wound man in sexual ecstasy – S&M

simone weil says that when you really love you are able to look at someone you want to eat and not eat them – looking at someone you want to eat. line from “After the Movie” by Marie Howe

indignity of risk – forthcoming poetry chapbook about eroticizing / playing with chronic illness

asexual tendencies – phrase from Asexual Erotics by Ela Przybylo

spirituality

in the dark i thought i heard somebody call – spiritual experiences, posts that resonate with my spiritual beliefs + practices. line from “To the Dogs or Whoever” by Josh Ritter

habitual intertwinement – drug use; phrase from “4mg of Phenomenology” by Dr. Simone Dennis

quaker tag – Quakerism & pantheism

❌ – rage in the key of religious trauma. the red X symbol was used by Tyler Glenn (in lipstick on his face & later a tattoo on his wrist) in his 2016 album Excommunication

i got the holy roll ❤️‍🔥 – christian trauma but make it fashion. line from “Fever Pitch” by Rainbow Kitten Surprise

self-image, mirroring, & ancestry

she steals the show (she is the show of difference) – a gender tag of sorts. line from “Revealing Femmegimp” by Loree Erickson

epistemic love poem – hermeneutical justice; the frameshifts that enables us to recognize our own oppression + discuss our experiences. phrase from poem of the same title by Heather McHugh

all day my body accepts what it is – things that make me go “me shaped!” + fat art, fat fashion. line from “August” by Mary Oliver

fag4dyke <3

you are the result of the love of thousands – ancestorship in general; line from Dwellings: A Spiritual History of the Living World by Linda Hogan (i haven’t read this i just liked the quote)

unnatural frequency – people & figures i consider personal ancestors + moments of highly specific resonance across time & space

fashion

lipstick technology – phrase from The Color Pynk: Black Femme Art for Survival by Omise’eke Natasha Tinsley

​how we dress the mouth reflects what we need it for – lipstick; line from Lipstick: A Celebration of the World’s Favorite Cosmetic by Jessica Pallingston

it’ll be the goddamned dress they bury me in. – red dress dreams; line from “What Do Women Want?” by Kim Addonizio

i am tough; i’ve got nails like god – nail art, fake nails as femcrip technology, high fem manicure emotions. line from the song “Nails Like God” by McCafferty

disability

life is in your house too – homeboundedness

tabula rasa – memory loss

the epic highs & lows of emotional lability – severe mood swings (in this case related to brain damage)

movements of the uncontrollable body – movement disorder; phrase from piece of the same name by Bronwyn Valentine

[drdemonprince]

Crypto-terf anon here again, and yes, lol, those are exactly the people I was talking about. Those accounts feel so insidious because on the surface they seem to pay lip service to a lot of complaints a lot of progressives share (I have definitely seen some of my own frustrations about infighting and, like, harassment as praxis reflected in them), and their whole deal seems to be geared around coalition building and wanting to create, like, a kinder and gentler left. Which seems great on the surface, but then consistently their whole brand keeps being linked to this genteel transphobia and I'm like...uh, never mind.

I admittedly haven't seen any explicitly anti-trans stuff from Morrigan specifically but she seems more than happy to kick it with the ones who traffic in it, so...yeah.

yeah she's said very explicitly on her podcast that she wants to create a space where "trans women and terfs can interact with one another" . and its like maam. you think they can just have rational debate about whether or not one of the two of them is a human being??? i fully think she's just like super ignorant and erected an entire political identity around the fact people don't like someone she's dating or that she tried to sell some zines during the height of the 2020 uprising and literally doesnt understand enough about any of the waters she's wading into to not show her ass. shes managed to spend going on four years running this grift without ever learning a damn thing about any of it because if she did the worldview would fall apart

like. her and her partner are constantly falling back on adolf reed as this like anti identitarian Black communist figure and its like. that man has published some egregiously transmisogynistic things so dont act like he's absolving you of seeming problematic or ill conceived. it just makes you look like you havent read anything when you claim him like that. its soooo gross and transparent

and now some of the others in their circle post this awful stuff about how they wish we had more defined gender roles because what does womanhood even really mean right now. classic like post leftist catholic reactionary stuff.

but nobodys worse or more explicit with the transmisogyny in all this than seerut. and yeah just generally i think its important to point out for the most part its transmisogyny very specifically. tho some other people in their circle like he valencia do post some generically transphobic takes that are just awful