#my head hurts so bad today

[airlockfailure]

Fandom Puriteens

THIS IS ABOUT FICTIONAL CONTENT MADE IN FANDOM NOT REAL LIFE NOT PUBLISHED LITERATURE (though maybe you all should go fucking read an actual book, maybe 1984 or Brave New World or Animal Farm, and take a class on media literacy)

For every one of you #triggered by dark/explicit content in fics I need you to understand and respect a few things here. I know it's hard for you. I know it's difficult to get out of your own #purelife #tradwife #everclearmind bullshit, but for Christ's sake sit your pansy ass down and listen to me right now.

You control yourself, not other people.

Dark content won't cause the universe to implode or society to collapse.

Outlawing dark content doesn't stop people from writing dark content. It doesn't stop people from making dark content art.

Imprisoning/killing people doesn't stop any of the things you're pearl clutching about. It makes new dark content for us to explore.

What the hell are you doing at the devil's sacrament? We warned you.

"But the childr-" See fucking point number fucking one. YOU CONTROL YOURSELF. IF YOU ARE A CHILD: Going behind your parents' backs and disobeying the boundaries they have set for you is the fastest way to get yourself into serious danger! Turn around, do not pass go, go tell your parents what you've done and fucking stay out of adult only spaces. The ADULT ONLY is the boundary!!

Outlawing ADULT ONLY doesn't fix anything. See points 3 and 4.

FUCKING HELL I HAVE BEEN THROUGH MULTIPLE LEVELS OF BULLSHITRY AND HELL AND I'M SICK OF THE PURITEENS AND MORALITY POLICE SAYING I'M NOT ALLOWED TO EXPLORE THAT IN FIC.

Because it gives them the "ewwies". BOO HOO. "BUT AIRLOCK, I'VE BEEN THROUGH BULLSHITRY HELL AND I'M DISGUSTED" Shh

Sit down. Here's tissues, a blanket, and cocoa. See point number 5. Really though, tags man, why are you here? You knew going in this would upset you.

8

You are not a saint just because you shit on the already dirty and rotten.

They will come for you. Eventually.

"But I never-"

Eventually.

Eventually you will also be too impure.

This is how it always goes.

You become the thought/MORALITY police of your peers. The HOA of sin. Your friend beebeebee or whatever gets banned for posting a sketch of Blorbo 9000 biting their lip. Five years later beebeebee is arrested IRL for kissing their gender non-conforming partner in public. You think "no way, kissing???" Bitch, you get arrested a day later for owning a vibrator. Siri reported your purchase. "But I only have this cheap vibrator to clear out my sinuses!!!! I'm not dirty!!!" No one cares, sweet cheeks. Literally no one cares because everyone knows the sick fucks like you are liars and freaks.

And your pure, pearl clutching government of perfect virgin mindhood MURDERED everyone who might have stood up for you.

For fuck's sake, at this rate, we're not going to be able to talk to our therapists about the trauma we've been through because we might "corrupt the therapist's #puremind" and traumatize them.

DEAR FUCKING GOD

Keep your children out of adult only spaces, and control your fucking self. You are the problem. YOU.

[giantkillerjack]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

[heartorbit]

start remembering ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

[opens-up-4-nobody]

She's turning the rain to snow

[cerise-on-top]

This is a vent piece. My psychosis got far worse again today, and my anxiety has been peaking each day for the past two weeks now. Pretty sure no one's going to read this, but I don't care. I wrote this with Price in mind, but this could be about anyone.

TW: graphic metaphors of violence, reader is psychotic and going through an episode, I think

What a beautiful day it was. The sun, at its zenith, brought a pleasant temperature with it. Any creature, capable of feeling both pleasure and warmth, would yearn for a nap underneath its rays. The sky, such a radiant blue, glorious in its pulchritude, made for the ideal day to go outside. Wherever one were to look, a human and its companions were close by, smiling at each other, cracking jokes. Some were enjoying lovely meals, others were indulging in sports. But many agreed, such a day had to be lived. Stormy clouds would come soon enough as they were, bringing an end to this reign of cheer. However, such thoughts couldn’t have been further away from the masses.

So, why were you stuck at home, bearing the curse of a headache no one had ever understood? This echo of a pain, it had only ever brought you suffering. Gripping your hair in your hands, you fought a war with yourself to not bash your head against the wall. The urge, ever so strong, was taking a hold of you, but you dared not let it win, for the consequences were dire enough to scare you into dominance over your mental illness. It was an unbearable pain, unlike anything you could ever have experienced normally. And yet, you’ve been living like this for the past few years now. It brought you to your knees as your breathing was uneven. Sharp breaths, deep breaths, were you even breathing at all? Even the voice in your head was concerned, trying to soothe you. Why wouldn’t the pain go away? Why couldn’t you have been normal?

Promises of aid in your darkest times came to mind, but the fear of burdening your loved ones broke each and every one of them. You wanted to swing your head violently around, making sure to break your skull, the splinters in your brain drowning out the pain that currently was. You couldn’t make it through this alone, but you had to. You were scared, alone, but you were a warrior, fighting for survival. If anyone ever knew how much agony you were in, they’d point and laugh at you. Your breathing sped up as you lowered your head to the floor. The cold wood did nothing to alleviate the torture you went through. You wanted to bite away at your own skin, gnawing at your bones so the physical pain would overshadow the mental one. You clutched your head, horrid images of flesh and bone crossing your mind. What did you do? And why did you deserve this? Picking at your skin, cutting away the flesh to reveal what’s inside, tearing open your body. You didn’t want this.

But somehow, a hand was placed on your back. As warm as the sun, as meaningful as the first nice day after a storm. You didn’t dare to look up. You’ve messed up. Someone saw you in your vulnerable state, here to take no mercy on you, who suffered through the layers of hell in this ordinary world. The hand burned through your skin, ridiculing you, but you craved it.

“Love, what’s wrong? Please look at me.”

You were shaking, your stomach churning as you tasted iron in your mouth. You were not long for this world, but you had to endure.

“It hurts so bad. I’m sorry.”

The hand on your back started to move, frantically so as it attempted to soothe you. The warmth spread, but your pain has been noted by someone else. You couldn’t move. But still, as humiliating as being perceived was, you focused on the hand.

“Don’t be sorry. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

The voice in your head made it all up. It was so loud, almost drowning out any other sound. You needed him to speak. He needed to continue, he needed to distract you.

“I’m sorry.”

Two arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to another source of warmth. His heart was beating, he was breathing, he was a beacon of comfort.

A body you loved, so close to you. His scent was almost overwhelming, but it was proof he was alive. You were alive, you believed, taking it in.

“Please, continue talking. I don’t care about what.”

And so, he betrayed your one request, staying silent. Perhaps it was your fault, perhaps it showed a weakness within him that only you could bring forth. And yet, his mere presence brought to light a strength you forgot about within yourself. As you no longer held onto your head as though it was torn at the seams, you instead sought him out. Finding solace within a gentle embrace, you took a deep breath as you buried your face in his shoulder. He was a soldier, one much better fitted for the cruelty this world brought about. He only knew how to kill, his only home was within the damned souls he sent to hell. But within his gentle grasp, you focused solely on him. Begging for comfort, like a child starved of its parent’s attention.

The knife of unreality twisted in your guts, slitting your throat, leaving you unable to speak. You were dependent on him in that moment. It was him, who needed to stitch you back together, make sure you could regard yourself as anything but a human failure. If you could even consider yourself a human in the first place.

But he was oh so meticulous in taking each bloody piece, infusing it with new life before merging it into an empty hull of a body. And as he’d build his own poisoned paradise, he inhaled the fumes and saw a glimpse of a future he still desired. What you had always seen as his certain demise, he saw a dream more pleasant than the heavens themself. Exhaling into your seemingly lifeless body, he shared his very essence with you. Even when you unwillingly knock on death’s door, he would still protect you from the grief of losing yourself, tearing you away from the pain of the unknown.

The sun, at its zenith, had nothing to say to you. It gave you an environment to live in, but no reason to stay in it. Only this one man, broken from war, found it within himself to show you the joy of being. His pieces had been scattered, but he still shared what little was left of him with you, building a secure fort around your being.

And from within the view of a safe home, you could even gaze at the stars, relishing in the cold. You had a different kind of warmth to return to.

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: butt stuff

Bakugou always wants to be so close to you whenever you guys have sex, and you’re just the same. He holds you right up against him, sweaty skin against sticky flesh, mouths breathing in the same air, he consumes you wholly, and you let him every time.

You’re on top, but all you have to do is sit there and take it. He wraps both arms tight around you, locked against your sides, his mouth buried against your cheek as he huffs against you. You’re all high, staccato moans, arms wrapped tight around his neck, fingers holding onto his nape. He feels so deep in this position, like he’s trying to carve a path inside of you no one else can follow.

“Feel good, huh baby?” Bakugou grunts, cocky and grinning, the slaps of his thighs against yours loud in the quiet room. You meet his hips at every thrust, face buried into his neck as you try to keep your cries at bay. You go to answer him shakily, and you can feel his arm moving, but you don’t think too much of it.

“S’good,” you slur, craning your neck up to mouth messily at his pulse point, squeaking when there’s a sudden wetness against your rim. Bakugou laughs meanly, licks the tip of his fingers again before he creeps thick digits down until they circle you again.

“That—that’s my ass,” you weakly protest, despite untangling your arms from around him, reaching a hand behind you to spread yourself wide. You can feel his grin more than see it, as he takes the opportunity to start teasing at the unprepared hole.

“Yeah,” he sighs dreamily as he watches you open yourself up from over your shoulder. “I fuckin’ know.”

It’s embarrassing how fast you cum when Bakugou slides his finger inside your ass, back arching to keep feeling his cock rub your g spot, his pubes rubbing against your clit sweetly. You scramble from the pleasure, still holding your ass open, still meeting his thrust, pushing up on your free arm as you scream your pleasures to the ceiling. Bakugou watches you, adoringly all the while, bites at his bottom lip when your tits bounce in his face, when your eyes cross, and you call his name for mercy.

He finishes inside you in mere seconds, the feeling of your cunt spasming around his cock and your ass sucking in his finger, there’s no way he’s supposed to last any longer than he did. You both collapse onto the bed, sweaty and heaving, wrapped all around each other once more. He rubs your back and you massage his stomach and arms as you both lay there, trying to catch your breath, thinking.

“You liked a finger in your ass?” Bakugou asks bluntly, and it makes you snort. You hide your face in his neck as you nod quickly, and he hums in response. It goes quiet again before you sit up a little to look at him, a deviously evil little smile on your face.

“Can I put the finger in your ass next time?” You ask him, expecting him to push you away so he can get the wet rag. But Bakugou only looks at you funny for a while before he shrugs, dragging you into a sloppy kiss.

“You’re a nasty little freak, aren’t ya?” He asks you, but he never actually says no to your question. You take it as a win, anyway.

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

trying to psych myself up to finally do oc refs by doing fandom-related refs instead: volume 1

wanted to update my yuma from whatever tf this au is so he was a bit more unique... takes inspo from a lot of different things while also trying to be its own sorta thing? which is fitting given the au ;)

bonus chibi now that i'm also figuring out how tf to do chibis lol:

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[boringwomanwithabook]

(⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠)

[pngblog]

you're so quick to get to asks!

I either have a week in-between an ask getting completed or I do it mere minutes after it was sent 😅 there is no in between.

[karda]

neck pain hasnt let up at all im supposed to go to the fair in a few hours :(

[skyward-floored]

Botw Zelda probably has such a weird relationship with her birthday

Does she celebrate it? Does she ignore its existence? Does she take the day to mourn for everything and everyone lost in the Calamity? Does she accept whatever cake Link probably makes for her and then cry in the bathroom???

[everythingundertheskycomics]

Dilute.

Hippo Crush

3/4

Previous

[ongreenergrasses]

he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother

Andromache has been betrayed before. Quỳnh has a big heart but she is still grieving. They do not trust easily after Lykon's death, and it takes them time to warm up to Yusuf and Nicolò.

They work it out eventually.

[fadeintolight]

gets no romantic attention: i want to kill myself

gets romantic attention: i want to kill myself more

[crybaby-bkg]

I saw this instagram video where this couple picked out and shopped for each others outfits for their date night and I thought it was such a cute idea!!! but then I was like, this wouldn’t work for me and Bakugou bc I’d pick out the ugliest outfit for him as a joke and he’d find something so nice and flattering for me and I’d feel too bad and not wanna go out anymore 😔

but also you guys picking out outfits for each other with things that the other never wears, but is sooo flattering for you both!!!! he never wears silk shirts and you never wear things with your back out, but you both end up picking something similar for the other to wear. and at first it’s daunting, but you end up looking and pairing so well together on your date!! ^_^