#it can be truly debilitating

[cyberfemboyfungusprince]

I hate having chronic migraines, today I woke up having shivers, so much pain irradiating to the back of my neck, together with seasickness and a feeling of panic. There's a spike in COVID cases where I live so I was scared and thought it might be a fever well guess what it wasn't. Every time I think "well maybe it's not migraines this time this is too much this is different" well guess what it's always my migraines, I take my medicine and it relieves some if not most of the pain. I cannot believe to this day I still question it. At this point I'll someday start bleeding from every hole in my body and just assume it's migraines because of the absolute range of discomforts I have found out are due to it.

[uncanny-tranny]

You know... it's okay to trust your body. If you are separated from your body to such an extent you feel you cannot trust it, I truly from the bottom of my heart empathize and feel grief for you, but you can trust your body.

It's okay to listen to your body and to heed what it is telling you. I wish you (and your body) well wherever you go. You deserve the peace of mind to feel able to do what you want.

[daz4i]

i am so angry about being alive it's not even funny anymore

[darkvveb]

hot take apparently but theres literally nothing wrong with adults watching kids shows. idc if its because theyre disabled or rewatching shows they liked as a kid or if theyre just watching it bc they think its a good show. who the fuck are they hurting. literally who cares. "youre embarrassing" who gives a shit. dont even derail this post by talking about weirdos who sexualize kids characters bc thats literally not what this is about. this is about adults just watching a show that happens to be made for children. yall are telling US to "grow up" but you cant even get over the schoolyard bully mindset of making fun of people for liking something that you think is odd. PLEASE get a life and leave strangers online alone. how are you a grown adult but cant cope with people having different interests.

genuinely if you align yourself with this type of thinking PLEASE block me. im serious. if you think that making fun of people who watch cartoons makes you better than people who watch cartoons then please fuck off and dont speak to me ever again.

[golbpd]

why can't i just open up? why am i even like this? jealous and annoying. i just want to be loved but not like someone can type it, no, i want someone to tell me this and give me a hug and idk, maybe sometimes hold my hand. i can't open up and i know i have tons of issues to work on, so i just stay silent, hidden in the shadows, where no one can see me. i detach so it won't hurt when they leave me. i don't want to feel like this. i hate myself and i'm trying so damn hard to stay sane, to remind myself that this isn't true me, but then i ask myself, "who's true me?". i don't know who i am

thank you for your post about asks, it's the first time i'm telling this to anyone who isn't my notes app!

[theghostofashton]

.

[appsa]

As you may know by now my friend siraj's fund ( @siraj2024 ) for rebuilding his home has now simply become a survival fund due to how dire the situation is in gaza today.

With borders closed, aid workers routinely targetted by the IOF to the point that many orgs including UN officials themselves have paused humanitarian aid efforts in gaza, and barely ANY of the aid being sent making it through the israeli blockade– the best thing you can do is help people like siraj find the means to be self-reliant and provide for themselves and their families.

Will try to keep it short this time round, so please dont look away.

Due to recent displacement of his extended family from deir al balah because of violence by the IOF, siraj's fund is now supporting FIVE families instead of just the one

This means Siraj is now sole provider for 23 people instead of just the 5 it was before.

10 of them are just children between the ages of 6-12, including 3 of siraj's children and their cousins.

His children are already sick with infections and due to the cramped living conditions in the tents, they are all at risk at spreading illnesses between each other.

With so many people depending on him and much of gaza's medical infrastructure being reduce to rubble, it has become imperative that Siraj be able to reduce the risks for them as much as he can possibly can.

Right now Siraj wants to focus on providing clean drinking water.

This will help ensure that the children dont have to walk kilometers on foot to fetch a pail of water, only to constantly put themselves at risk of more debilitating illnesses like polio and hepatitis by having to drink the poisoned water in gaza for survival.

To do this, Siraj has decided to purchase a submersible water generator and some network tools. He needs YOUR support to make this possible.

verified (#219) / donate here

enter raffle / artists offering commissions for donations - [1] [2]

IMPORTANT: since the gfm organizer is based in canada, the fundraiser doesnt accept donations through p*ypal. If you would like to donate via PP or are having any issues donating with general cards, please DM @malcriada (siraj's trusted friend) to make the donation on your behalf.

Donate what you can, share if you cant. No amount of help is too little, and your support can truly mean the difference between life and death for these families.

[hawkeyebj]

thought about my dog dying and got nauseous

[thefleshyougoveggie]

there’s something that just hurts about being an afab trans person and realizing that you’ll never be a girl

[wandasaura]

YOU CAN HEAR IT IN THE SILENCE

summary — as you navigate this new season of love with wanda and natasha, you make the time to fall into soft moments of comfortable silence, even as the world prepares to challenge you as the semester begins

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, domestic fluff, very light elements of dom/sub dynamics, alludes to mommy kink if you squint, oral fixation, just soft girlfriends wandanat and their little duckling

authors note — a little blurb inspired by this ask

The love you held so tenderly in your heart for Natasha had somehow grown to include Wanda as the months came and passed and the weather changed just as quickly. You’d gone through seasons of scarves, of thin jackets and long layers, of bikinis and designer sunglasses. This new season was softer, sweeter, and you cherished where it would lead you as the leaves changed and the breeze carried a welcomed chill. Throughout the seasons of your love, there were things that had never grown on you despite the weight they held in your relationship. You’d still not found a love for gardening despite seeing Wanda through a plethora of projects and renovations since the barren ground of winter had become plush with moisture and sunlight, and you still couldn’t tolerate the sitcoms that she’d roped Natasha into adoring just as equally. You could compromise, find entertainment in their joy, but some things had remained only theirs throughout your relationship, and you’d find genuine peace with that. Still, there were nights where you tried to fit into their puzzle for two, attempted to merge the sliver of separation that harmed no one, but could feel quite isolating when all you desired was their silent company. 

As you laid across Natasha, your head cradled between soft thighs in her lap, her fingers weaved into your hair that had been washed and blow dried affectionately just an hour earlier, you found a gentle peace in the laugh track that filled the living room with a delicate buzz and the lightness of the sound stages that brought forth an incandescent glow which turned soft colored eyes that you’d memorized since that first season of love where scarves had been wrapped around necks into dazzling specs of precious priceless gemstones. You hummed every so often, when her nails scratched at your scalp just right, but other than your soft noises of contentment, nobody spoke. 

You’d only gone back to classes last week, and while the introduction period was calm as it always had been, the buzz of academic anticipation had exhausted you tremendously. Your senior year was here, firmly upon you whether you were ready to dive into it or not. This would truly be the turning point that would irreversibly contribute to your future, and the stress of coming out on top felt debilitating before it had even truly begun. Wanda and Natasha had simultaneously taken a plunge into organized chaos within the last seven days, now back in the office full time, although Natasha still prioritized working from home. Your routine had shifted since the season of bikinis and designed sunglasses, now filled with long sleeves and cozy shorts that didn’t dig into your belly during lectures, but there was something to look forward to in this new stage of navigating your relationship. 

You were up earlier now most days – sparing Wednesdays which fortunately provided you a break – needing to be to campus by nine, having to leave at eight to ensure traffic didn’t set back your ambitious attempt to live off campus during the semester, which meant that you had a couple of soft, tender minutes to steal with Natasha before you really did have to start getting ready at seven. She never did come downstairs before you left for school, preferring to milk the absolute most out of her quiet mornings before she headed into the office across the hall, but you could count on stealing a kiss from Wanda who left within the same ten minutes of you, most times in the kitchen, after you’ve stolen a sip of her coffee that was always poured into the same stainless steel travel mug, but sometimes your departures aligned, and she’d walk you to the car with a gentle hand on the center of your back, and she’d kiss you sweetly before seeing you out of the driveway with an enthusiastic wave of encouragement. It was different, less entangled, but their soft company guided you through the mornings where it felt impossible to leave their side. 

Saturdays had an unspoken promise to them now. Where Wanda had once prioritized not working so intensely on Fridays, wanting to spend that day with you and Natasha at home, she’d rearranged her schedule to assure that any leftover assignments were delegated between trusted employees that could handle and meet the standard of which their company strived to uphold. You’d done nothing short of nothing all day, starting with a cheap breakfast of frozen pancakes and strawberries that weren’t quite in season anymore, leading into a dip in the pool beneath wind rustling leaves, although you quickly realized that fall temperatures were not as appealing as summer, and despite the use of the heater that Natasha had cracked up to a mid-ninety, you scrambled out within minutes and cocooned yourself in a fluffy bath towel that provided more protection than a beach towel could. You’d ordered takeout for lunch, ate those leftovers for dinner, and soaked up every moment of company you could in between meals at the dining room table, knowing that eventually, you’d have deadlines to meet and they’d have cases to work even if you’d silently vowed to spend as much time as you could reconnecting on Saturdays. 

When Natasha shifted beneath you, gently picking your head up from where it had rested in her lap for the last hour, you whined in discontentment, struggling against her tender hold to reclaim your position against her. She laughed softly in response, leaning down to lay a sweet kiss against your temple, before she slid out from beneath you entirely, stretching her arms above her head and revealing the milky skin of her belly that you couldn’t resist reaching out to poke. Without her fingers tangled into your hair, keeping you calm and stimulated against her warmth, the echoing laughter that played from the speakers scratched at your brain annoyingly. You sat up fully with a huff, criss crossing your legs as you looked at her glumly, unable to conceal your betrayal. 

“Oh, I’m so mean, aren’t I?” She cooed softly, cupping your face to lay her lips against yours, leaving you with the taste of her chapstick against your tongue before she slipped away into the kitchen. The sounds of her filling up three different cups of water told you all that you needed to know, and begrudgingly you attempted to rise to your feet and follow her, wanting to help complete the routine she’d set for herself when you’d first moved in, but Wanda grabbing at your waist kept you confined to the living room and her presence alone. 

“Nu uh, we’re not playing duckling tonight.” She teased softly, her fingers adorned with glimmering silver rings slipping beneath the shirt you’d stolen from her closet after you’d showered off the salted pool water that tarnished your softness, her blunt nails raking trails down your skin as she held you, keeping you from seeking out Natasha like you’d sought out to do. “You gonna come cuddle with me? Or am I not as good as Natty?” There was a wrinkle of lightness in her tone, a clear indication that she found great amusement in your clinginess that had been directed at her through the past season of bikinis and designer sunglasses. 

“Not as good.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, although you melted into her within the same breath that you turned down her proposition, which prompted an affectionate chuckle and a kiss to be laid against your head. “Want Natty.” You grumbled, mindlessly grabbing at the hand that laid draped against your lap, keeping you pinned against her chest. 

“Natty’s coming back. You’re stuck with me in the meantime.” She laughed, humming softly when you lifted her hand to your lips and kissed at each glimmering knuckle, the cool metal against your lips a refreshing addition of stimulation, although that quickly found a way to become a reason for you to wrap your tongue around her pointer finger and give an experimental suckle. “Ah, so that’s your problem. My sitcoms still boring you, detka?” Wanda teased, playfully pressing down against your tongue, startling you as you gagged softly in response, wide eyes flittering upward to meet hers. 

You nodded softly, a crinkle in your nose an amusing sight as you sat entangled with her limbs, teeth nibbling affectionately on her pointer finger, not willing to let it go. “Well, let's fix that then, hm?” You whined softly when she removed her finger from your possessive hold, but sank two in place of the one that you’d clung to, pacifying your restlessness. “There we go, that’s better isn’t it, moya lyubov?” 

You nodded softly, sinking further into Wanda, mindlessly watching whatever sitcom had stolen both her and Natasha’s interest as you suckled and chewed on her fingers. When Natasha came back, you hardly noticed, too entranced with the sensation of cold metal against your tongue. 

“It sucks not having you both home with me, but I can get used to this.” She sighed softly, her hand coming to rest on your thigh, keeping you pinned between their bodies equally. 

[louisinart]

my brain beta testing a reintroduction of a popular special event  (being suicidal)

[channieismyboy]

chanel chance

{dilf!seonghwa x f!reader}

synopsis: When y/n is alerted that there's been a flood in her apartment and no one can take her, what will she do when Mr. Park asks her to stay with him?

masterlist | part 3 | part 5

warnings: age difference (y/n is 21, seonghwa is 29), eventual smut, language, kind of slow burn, sad attempts at humor - wc: 2.3k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Everyday, a man lives a debilitating cycle. He wakes up, goes to work, sleeps, and repeats this endless circuit. He has gotten used to this schedule over the last few years. The only joy in his life would be brought on by his little daughter, whom he loves with all his heart. He tries his very best to put on a facade of happiness whenever he spends time with her. Wanting to protect her innocence from vague feelings of misery for as long as he possibly can, until he eventually matures.

There was no room for love in his life anymore. Romance is certainly unattainable for him due to his lack of availability. It is not like he does not have opportunities to date, there are plenty of women and men who often throw themselves at him. However, it is merely for his title or money. They want to gain something from him.

This man views love differently than the people who he converses with on a daily basis. Most of those individuals view marriage, or dating as a contract. As an opportunity to enlarge their company’s resources, get more publicity from the media, or even to trick the public to buy more of their products. Since this man has seen this happen numerous times in his lifetime, even had a hands-on experience of it in his home, he has made a choice that he would no longer give romance a chance. As those couples that marry for money, or titles, almost certainly end up unhappy, divorcing quickly after marrying, or scandals of them cheating on one another are posted publicly on the news.

However, this man’s principles had begun to change once he had met someone different. Someone who he found beautiful in every way imaginable, who made his heart skip a beat in a way he never knew it could…

This man is Park Seonghwa.

-

You check the time, it is now 11:37 PM. You're lying awake, staring aimlessly at your ceiling, with the fairy lights illuminating your otherwise dark room. Replays of a few nights ago rerun in your head. You think about how gentle Mr. Park was with you, and how caring he is with his daughter. It makes your heart ache. You sadly have never got to experience a proper father-daughter relationship, or even one at all. However, you're grateful you have your uncle and your aunt. They've truly made your life special in every way imaginable. Your eyes begin to feel heavy, and the familiar wave of tiredness hits you until you're asleep.

It is now saturday morning, today you will babysit Jieun and today you will finally see Mr. Park. You get slightly too excited about that last part, and shake your head at your thoughts. You have been thinking about him a lot recently, you really shouldn't, for the sake of keeping your job.

You wake up and check your phone, scrolling aimlessly through your socials and texts from Minho and Jisung. Replying to the endless amounts of texts they've sent along with pictures of them on their vacation to Jeju Island. You struggle to get through the pure amount of them.

The afternoon passes calmly. You quickly make yourself some dinner and shower after precisely picking out your outfit to go see Mr. Park while on a facetime call with both Minho and Jisung. as annoying they are, they are never caught wearing a bad outfit.

"Are you calling us so you can look great for Mr. Hot ceo?" Minho asks with a deadpan tone, which juxtaposes with the cute cat in his lap that he's petting every so sweetly. "You wanna impress him?" Jisung adds while wiggling his eyebrows.

"It's not that, I just want to look presentable is all" you fib, while showing them the black skirt, black stockings with a deep burgundy Ralph Lauren knit sweater that jisung had picked out. Minho looks at you with an 'I'm not buying it' face and you cave in.

"Okay fine! Can you blame me for wanting to look nice when babysitting a good looking ceo's daughter? Plus I do have to look professional for this job, I can't just show up in sweats. and he probably thinks I'm a kid, so it doesn't matter anyway" you say, opting for the look you have on.

"Honestly, I would do the same" jisung adds after applauding your look.

-

After your shower, you get dressed and put on just a bit more makeup than usual, and spray on your 'Chanel Chance' perfume. It won't hurt to look nice for the man anyway. You board the bus and sit down while listening to some music. you're now deep in thought, thinking back to minho's comment. it won't hurt to look good for the man anyway. He's literally a high power ceo, regardless of how he looked, you had to go to his home and look presentable anyway. with a posh neighborhood like his and such a fancy house like his, you would look like the odd one out not arriving dressed in the very few expensive clothing items you own.

Your stop arrives and you head out quickly, mentally preparing to meet John again and explain why you are there. You feel slightly awkward just walking up a hill with nothing else but your purse and phone in hand. You wish you had a car that can drive you around, but it broke down on you and is in the shop being replaced. You try not to think about the bill ahead of you, that's too many scary thoughts in a row.

Trailing along, you are soon met with John at the gate. He looks at you up and down. "Can I see some ID?" he demands. You open your purse and show him your driver's license. He lets you through, luckily Mr. Park's home is close to the gate, so it's not a far walk. You stop at the familiar home. it's 6:25 PM, you're grateful that once again you're early. You quickly double check your hair and retouch your lip gloss before knocking on the door. You wait a bit until it opens.

This time you are greeted directly by Mr. Park, and he glances at you up and down before welcoming you with a polite smile. You do the same, and note how nicely dressed he is. The black buttoned up shirt with just a few buttons undone tucked into his black trousers complement the glasses he's wearing, he look's so professional with them on.

"Hello Ms. L/n, it's nice to see you." he says with a slight smile on his face. "Hello Mr. Park" you greet back with a bright and polite smile.

"Laura, my housekeeper isn't here on Saturdays so it's just going to be you and Jieun for today. Please come in," he gestures into the home. You take off your shoes and enter the place after closing the door. You look around his place once again, still in shock by its size and beauty. Mr. Park sure has taste. You walk behind him and follow him to the living room, where Jieun is already sitting, watching cartoons.

He turns to face you, eyes directly on yours. Suddenly it's quite hot in the room. "I'll leave you both here and I'll be back just before 9:00 PM, call if anything happens, although I know she's in great hands" he says to you before saying goodbye to his daughter.

"Enjoy your meeting Mr. Park!" you say. He exits before lovingly wishing his daughter goodbye.

-

Your time spent with Jieun is always pleasant. She's as bright and playful as ever, telling you about her latest works of art (cute scribbles) and her excitement to learn more at pre-school. She has such a bright future ahead of her, you think. The time passes quickly as soon it's almost 9:00.

You hear the familiar pitter-patter of raindrops beginning to fall down, and you silently curse to yourself. You did not bring an umbrella with you and now you'll have to walk down in the rain until you reach the bus stop. Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear Jieun scream out for her dad. You raise your head up and you greet Mr. Park.

He places Jieun down and tells her to get ready for bedtime. She does just that after saying goodbye to you with a warm hug that you so happily reciprocated.

"Alright," he says while reaching into his wallet and pulling out many bills. "This should do it for the night" and he gives you the money. You check the amount and your eyes bulge out a little at the amount. 150$ you count and recount again quickly, this is much more than last time. You shake your head and attempt to give him back the money.

"Mr. Park, this is way too much. I cannot accept this amount."

"Please, just take it. It honestly isn't a lot for me and I'm just happy you made Jieun smile so brightly." His tone and expression are so genuine you have no choice but to give in and accept it.

"Okay, I'll accept it this time Mr. Park. Thank you very much."

You head to put back on your shoes and prepare yourself to walk back in the rainfall. He watches you intently, with his head turned to the side as he leans on the wall. You feel as though you're being watched by an eagle, as you feel his eyes never once leaving your form. your cheeks burn slightly.

"Are your friends here to pick you up?" Mr. Park speaks up. "No, it's just me on my own this time" you answer.

"You're not walking home are you? I didn't see a car parked in the driveway when you came." He asked with concern laced in his soft spoken words.

"No. I'm just going to walk to the bus stop nearby-"

"I'll drive you there then" he cuts you off. He sees the familiar look of 'you don't have to' already on your face, the one he just saw moments ago while paying you. Before he lets you speak, he explains himself. "I just don't want you to get a cold out in the rain. I need my babysitter to be in perfect condition, you know."

Yet again, Mr. Park has made it impossible for you to refuse him. "Alright, if you insist, then I have no choice but to say yes" you say with a smile, and you see him laugh slightly at your words.

To say his car is nice, would be a great understatement. You have no knowledge of cars, but even to a novice like you, this car is down right spectacular. The nicely polished black outside with leather seats, just how rich is this man?

Mr. Park opens the door for you and ushers you in gently. He gets in quickly after, and you glance at your phone, after realizing it's been buzzing for quite a while now. You see all the missed calls from your Landlady. Panic surges through you, did you forget to pay your rent? No you remember sending out the amount just a week ago. what could it be then? Mr. Park can tell you're anxious.

"I'm sorry," you mutter. "It's something to do with my apartment, could I quickly make a call?" you ask. "Of course, be my guest," Mr. Park says, gesturing for you to dial the number.

The phone rings and she picks up quickly. "Hello?"

"Ms. L/n, there has been a minor flood in the apartment. You must come quickly and evacuate all of your belongings. We'll need to undergo repairs for about 3 days." You let her speak, and your face drops.

You face Mr. Park and judging from his expression, he's heard everything from your call.

"Were there any damages to my apartment room?"

"Luckily your floor had no damages, it was the floors under you that mainly got affected. Still you'll need to leave for a few days. Please come quick and find a place to stay until then. Goodbye."

You hang up the phone and think to yourself silently. Wondering who you could stay with. Mr. Park asking you the same question out loud. Minho and Jisung are too far away and you don't have a key to their apartment you explain to them.

"What about your uncle?" Mr. Park asks.

"I wish but, they're having renovations and there's barely any room for them in the house." you answer.

It's silent for a moment, the raindrops splattering heavily as the rainfall speeds up, a storm is starting to form outside. You think about any other people you know that you can stay with. The list is already quite short.

"Stay with me," and you turn your head to meet, a shocked expression to his lighthearted smile.

"I really can't. I don't wish to intrude like that." you shake your hands in defense.

"Unless you have anyone else to turn to, I'm your best bet Ms. L/n. You won't be intruding anyway. I'm not uncomfortable with it and I think Jieun would be delighted to have you over for 3 days." he shrugs, waiting for you to answer.

This is the third time he has persuaded you this night. No wonder he's a successful businessman, he can talk you right into doing whatever wants, and you're not opposing any of it.

Staying with him won't be too bad right? I mean he must have room in this mansion of his. Plus he is always busy and I have class so we won't interact as much right?

Your face begins to heat up at the thought of being in such close proximity to Mr. Park. Wait, why are you thinking of that right now?

You exhale and look at him as you've made your decision.

"I'll stay with you."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

a/n: hey yall! so long time no see. i'm going to continue this series after not touching it for almost 2 years. i'm sorry for the delay but even i had to know how this was going to end. i hope some of yall are interested in it still (praying actually). anyways please enjoy this part, i'll see you soon!!

please let me know if you wanna be added to the tagslist!!

tagslist: @miamyre @flowersiinherhaiir @vvsmydiamonds127 @prodsh00ky @jhmylove @sunwoosberrie @jenotation @seonghwasstar @zwiehe @nagadiluc @kodzukein @heavenly-mobo @nevieatiny @smeetb0ne3 @yeosxxx @koalakoala8 @imalildelulu @sookacc @lunaa2210 @asjkdk @wal-nutt @iheartyeonjunnn @yoonsanbin

[its-your-mind]

I’m sorry I need to talk about this for a second

This part right here. When Nirvana tries to use Thought Infection on Kim Dokja. And this ability that absolutely neutralized Yoo Joonghyuk, Min Jiwon, and Yoo Sangah…

just…

bounces right off.

and it’s set up like this big badass moment. Kim Dokja saves the day again. Kim Dokja can face down anyone. He’s more powerful than every other incarnation and constellation, no matter how much foreknowledge they have.

But honestly?

It kinda just makes me sad.

yjh is incapacitated by the Eternal Nightmare ability because of all the awful things he’s seen and experienced, yes.

But as we know from 1863, happy memories can be much more debilitating for him than sad ones. And while he’s only got 1-2’s memories right know, we know that 2 had some incredibly happy memories to pass on, memories that make the losses that much harder to take.

And Min Jiwon?

Of course she doesn’t actually want to visit a spa while her friends and troops are dying. But can you blame her for having some deep craving for comfort and relaxation right now?

But for Kim Dokja…

The Fourth Wall isn’t just protecting kdj from the negative effects of the skill. It’s not hiding his secret desires, or absorbing his emotions.

It is literally preventing him from experiencing the world around him as reality. Not just because it feels improbable or surreal, but because it is literally keeping him separate from the world around him. On a fundamental level, he does not believe he is truly present in this time and space.

This is derealization and dissociation on an unbelievably intense scale.

“If we’re just characters, why did you die for us so many times?”

Why wouldn’t he? He’s not here, not really. He’s just Reading this story, no matter how much sway he’s been having over what has happened. All of that is just his work as a Reader hoping to see the Epilogue of his favorite novel.

“It was a really great story, isn’t that right?”

Narratively satisfying. A twist ending. A fate that subverted expectations.

An Epilogue worth Reading. Not touching, not feeling, not joining, not creating. Just watching. From a distance away. From behind glass. Through the cracks in a wall.

After all, a story can’t exist without a writer, a protagonist, and a reader. Only two of them truly participate in creating the story. But when you’re the Reader, it’s always worth reading the story again. And again. And again. And again. And again ,

[sub4dominant]

Truly Owned

That moment when your mind and body go to a whole other place.

There’s been a gradual build up, your skilful Master adding layer upon layer of pain and degradation to endure.

it started after being strapped into position with the verbal abuse, reminding you what you are, what you are for, a quick way to get you focused. ‘dick-bitch’ ‘cunt’ fag-slut’ ‘piece of shit’ ‘inferior scum’….’YES SIR, it is just a hole for abuse, SIR!’

Then brutally untied before being thrown over Master’s knee, the spanking was a gentle warm-up, bare handed, humiliating, bad boy. Then bent over, grabbing ankles…10 with the belt, followed by 10 with the crop…’Thank You SIR, Please may i have another SIR?!’

He bites, He, squeezes, clamps and abrades before you willingly put your hands behind your back for the application of the pegs…cock, balls, tits, nose, eyelids, septum, ears. The pain slowly building, burning, endured.

The bondage is simple enough but totally debilitating, ankles and wrists bound together, no chance of escape now.

He rapes your mouth with His tongue, panting, greedy. His teeth tear at your tongue, His eyes terrify you, excite you, possess you. you are His. Takes the facial pegs off with His teeth, tears, tugs. the pain as the blood rushes back into the tender body parts is enough to make you scream…time for the gag.

Now you are panting, 2 hours in and your ass is throbbing, the pegs ever growing agony, helpless, sweating, struggling, drooling, no longer human, just a horny animal, panting, begging, every sensation controlled and still He whispers in your ear…’nasty little pig, grovelling worm, slutty puppy’.

He easily pulls you back onto His lap, hole exposed for the world to see, the online world, the cam positioned perfectly, public humiliation added to the list, another emotion to comprehend, deal with. your renewed struggling and muffled begging will please the viewers, pleases Master.

Brown bottle held to your nose, countdown from 10….then again….then again. Head spins, eyes widen as the baseball bat is slowly presented to you. End placed on your forehead and then slowly traced down to the waiting hole, pink and open. your sweat providing some lube.

He teases you stroking the opening, pressure then withdrawl. More poppers then as one hand rips off a trio of pegs the other pushes, forces until the bat penetrates your tight pussy. He bites down on your ear and thats when it happens….sensory overload. you fly, go to another place, ecstatic, overwhelmed, pain, pleasure. you want to hurt more, you want to feel more, you are part of Master, He owns you, you are His, you are connected, He has the power to change you, to possess you, to take you over. He is everywhere, He is here. You feel everything, you feel nothing.

He is pumping the bat, in and out, every stroke taking more out of you, feeding on you. More pegs are ripped off, you grow weak, compliant, a rag doll, mindless, murmuring, thanking, praising, exploding. the gag is removed and you feel His tongue again, softer, the bat is slowly withdrawn. He holds you, you sob into his chest. your cum is running down your leg, forming a huge puddle on the floor between His feet.

Untied, He lets you slip to the floor, you are still lost, tongue out, panting, worshipping. He knows, He knows what He can do to you, what He can do for you. He pushes your head into the puddle, clean up. The task helps you to regain a little bit of focus, lap, lap, lap and swallow. As you come up, His cock is there waiting, you will spend the next hour worshipping it, pleasing it. Your mind is now completely focused on Him, you will make sure this is the best head you have ever given, nothing matters but the cock, nothing matters but Master. He has proved yet again that He truly owns you.

[sipsteainanxiety]

izuku's love for you is—stifling.

like you've been wrapped thickly in a well-loved blanket, and no matter how hard you claw and writhe, it just gets tighter and tighter and tighter. unrelenting. inescapable. it's something you've grown used to. something you've learned to deal with in your own way, because at the heart of it, you know it's because he cares.

it's easier on certain days. days where he's had a particularly good patrol or where he's had nothing else to do other than relax at home. it's those days where you wake up to dappled sunshine through the window—falling across the smooth planes of his freckled face in a way that's utterly breathtaking—that you breathe easily and know he's safe. the light turns strands of his hair into a gold that contrasts against the deep green, and you brush a hand over his forehead in a way that makes him sigh in his sleep.

safe, you tell yourself again. where you can reach him. he spends so much time outside, jumping around the city to save whoever he can in a flash of green lightning. and you know he takes each and every single life he's saved and stores them in his heart. putting himself on such a high pedestal and holding himself to a standard that you think is debilitating, at times. hero work can be so personal, after all.

he holds the weight of the world on his shoulders, but here—at home—he can be himself. he can be izuku, not deku, and he can laugh and smile and dance around with you in your little, shared kitchen. he can love you without fear of this love being used against him, and he can hold your hands together and promise you another day where it's just you and him.

on other days—it's not as simple. not as easy.

it's the days where he's tasted some form of defeat, you think. some form of wretched helplessness or tragedy that strikes him at his core and topples the very foundation he's based his selfless heart on. he takes all his losses and holds onto them tightly—obsessing and dwelling over them in a way that's unhealthy. a way to cope with his agony.

sometimes he tells you what's happened, sometimes he doesn't—believing it be better if you don't know. but, regardless, at the end of these days he always comes back home—to you. unprepared, unknowing, you.

on one of these days—a day where you think something truly... shook him, deep within—you hear the door open to your home and expect to hear his familiar, cheerful voice. telling you how much he's missed you or about something memorable that's happened on his patrol. but you don't hear a word. it makes you pause and you slowly edge towards the front entrance to peek at him and see what he's up to—if perhaps he's tired and needs help taking off his shoes, or if he's deep in thought about this or that.

instead what you see is his weary, shadowed figure. standing hunched in the entryway with his hair covering his face and a hand gripping onto the edge of the wall where it opens up into the living room. he's breathing heavily, you realize, and you're just the tiniest bit wary before you find yourself hesitantly calling out his name.

it's like a trigger for him. his head snaps up, and you have just enough time to see a small, dark pupil, before he's lunging towards you and sweeping you up in an embrace. tight tight tight can you breathe you can't breathe.

you choke and feel his grip flex around you even further. "izuku—? what—"

"you're here," he murmurs quietly—so quietly—and then he's setting you down and letting his large, gloved hands pass over your face. then your neck. your shoulders and sides. then back up again. feverishly, nearly revenant. you don't say a word, eyes locked on that burning gaze of his—small and shadowed. "i'll keep you safe. you know that, right?"

it takes you all the strength in the world to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. and your answer is teeny tiny. "of... of course. you will. i'm here."

you don't know if he's seeing you, really seeing you. however, you've dealt with this izuku before. and it never gets easier, not really. but you are experienced. so you let him obsess over you. let the look in his eyes pull you in deep deep deep until you relive those feelings of drowning in all that makes him, him. stifling, you think.

and he holds onto you. and he doesn't let you go.

[genderkoolaid]

You see, I believe almost everyone entangled in this controversy is acting in what they believe are the best interests of the community with which they feel most closely aligned. I believe they’re doing the best they can with what they have. I believe mistakes have been made by everyone involved, that the personal has become political in the most destructive of ways. I also believe in change and evolution; that even organizations that have had to be forced to listen to me and to consider my issues can learn from their mistakes and realize they must make a seat for me at the table if they are to truly realize the dream of civil rights for themselves and for others. But most of all, I believe in hope. I was asked point-blank whose side I was on. This is my answer: I am on the side of whoever has the guts and initiative to end this thing and make a real effort to move our community forward out of this debilitating and destructive conflict. I’m on the side of anyone who is more interested in healing the wounds than in proving who is right. I’m on the side of those who have the ability and the willingness to put aside their personal and political animosities and seek some way to bring together everyone involved to begin a healthy dialogue, one without finger-pointing and name-calling. Until that happens, I guess I’m on the side of those who are the most negatively affected by this dysfunctional family feud. In case anyone needs a refresher course as to who those folks are and the issues they are dealing with, allow me to introduce just a few of them. The transsexual FTM who has lost custody of his child when he began transition; the butch lesbian who lost her job because she refused to wear makeup or shave her legs; the crossdresser whose wife is seeking a divorce and custody of the children he adores; the effeminate gay man beaten to death and crucified on a fence on a lonely Midwestern plain; the 17-year-old MTF doing tricks in the back alleys of San Francisco because her parents kicked her out when they found “him” wearing dresses; the FTM who died of uterine cancer because he couldn’t get insurance approval for a hysterectomy after he had completed sexual reassignment. Ultimately, it is these transgender, transsexual and gender- variant people who have the most to lose if someone doesn't step up to the plate to end this.

— "Gender, Identity Politics, and Eating Our Own" by Alexander John Goodrum (2001)