#no I don't remember who they were it was a year ago

[sstargirln]

❞ ᝰ .ᐟ stepdad(dy)!art

TW: smut MDNI - p in v, not proofread, so so much swearing, so much dirty talk oops, fauxcest/stepcest

word count: 2301

¡! ❞! a/n aka post-nut clarity : yikes! i am down BAD

“where the fuck have you been?” art's voice cut through the empty front foyer, his eyes narrowed and arms crossed as you stumble through the front door.

just a few years ago, art was nothing but a familiar face in tennis circles, your mom’s high-profile client from her days as a sports agent. you remembered watching his matches on tv when you were younger. hearing his name murmured around the house—art donaldson, the untouchable tennis star and his wife, tashi. but that marriage had fallen apart, fast. 

and then one day, you came home to find him at the dinner table, leaning back in his chair like he’d always belonged there. they were dating, your mom had said, not hiding the glint of satisfaction in her eyes as if she’d snagged the catch of the century. you never asked how it started, only watched as art slowly slipped from the screen into your everyday life.

art liked it—a family that wasn’t a media-fueled whirlwind, even if the kid was closer to his age than to being an actual child. 

the past few years had gone smoothly enough. art had settled into this new life, used to the late nights your mom spent at the office . . . and then you turned 18. and you were a rebellious mess of late nights and tight dresses and barely concealed fluttery eyelashes.  

whatever you were doing — if you meant to or not, was working. you were turning heads, catching eyes. and art’s mind had begun to shift as well. darken. 

he had begun to become infected by this feeling, creeping under his skin like poison. it bloomed inside him, a constant, gnawing need that he hated himself for. his thoughts spiraled, to you, to your body, to the way your mouth moved when you smiled, when you spoke. worst of all, the way the word daddy slipped from your lips effortlessly, so innocently.

“you reek. are you drunk?”  

you shake your head ever so slightly as you stumble towards the couch. "no, daddy, don't be ridiculous," you giggled, your words slurring. you adjust up the hem of your sleeveless dress as you spread on the couch, hair falling into your face. "i'm . . . tipsy at best."

art clenches his jaw at the sound of that forbidden word on your lips. his heart pounds in his chest, and he feels it low in his stomach, a jolt of heat straight to his groin.

he knows this is wrong, knows he shouldn't be picturing all the filthy things he wants to do to you, sprawled on the couch under him. "tipsy, my ass. who were you with?" he managed to choke out. 

you roll your eyes as you look up at him. "my friend sierra. went to a party." you lick your lips slowly, foot reaching out to graze against his leg. "my neck hurts from looking up at you, daddy. si'down." 

fuck, what are you doing? trying to drive him crazy? it's working. his cock twitches traitorously in his pants, already starting to stiffen at your casual touch. his body moves before his brain can catch up, sinking down onto the cushion beside you. "there. happy now?" he tries to keep his tone gruff, unaffected. 

you nod slightly, a small smirk tugging at your lips before you lean back with a pout, your eyes heavy. "so . . . what're you gonna do? hm? ground me?" you rest your legs across his lap.

it takes every ounce of his self-control not to reach out and touch you. all he can think how soft your skin must feel, how you would taste if he leaned in and ran his tongue along your inner thigh. his hands clench into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. "maybe I should call your mother. let her deal with you. this is ridiculous. "

but even as the words leave his mouth, he knows he won't do it. knows he'll take the fall for you, like always. because despite his better judgment, despite the sickness churning in his gut at his own twisted desires — he can't bear the thought of disappointing you. 

you just giggled at his scolding, apparently too far gone to care. you shift on the cushions, arch your back slightly. making the flimsy sundress ride up even higher on your thighs, giving art a peek of red lace that he should not be seeing. art swallowed hard, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

 the room is silent for a few moments, art’s confrontation long dissipated. 

“mom’s gone a lot, hm?” your slurred, shaky voice snaps him out of his daze. you shift closer to him, foot brushing right against his crotch. 

art inhales sharply, his cock twitching as your foot grazes his straining erection. a flicker of panic passes over his face before he could hide it. "what the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked defensively, crossing his arms, trying to steady himself.

you just smirk up at him, eyes glinting mischievously even through the drunken haze. "oh c'mon, daddy, you know exactly what i mean." you draw out the forbidden word, letting it hang in the charged air between them. lick your lips. bat your lashes oh so innocently. "y'know, 's just that she’s never around anymore. mus' get real lonely for you.”

“don’t . . .” he choked. art dragged a hand over his face, trying to collect himself. "just go to bed," he stammered wearily, unable to meet your eyes. "we'll talk more about this in the morning when you're sober."

but you don’t listen, continue on as if he never said anything — lips curling into a knowing smirk. "mm, poor daddy," you murmur, a soft, taunting lilt to your voice. "don’t get much action, i’m sure."  

art exhales sharply, his eyes flicking to yours, then quickly away. “you need to go to bed.”

you scoot closer, your legs brushing against his. "i don’t want to sleep," you murmur, leaning in just enough for him to feel your breath against his ear. "maybe i want some attention. i know you do." 

“fuck,” he croaked. “stop.”

but you just smile up at him. lean in just a little. "must be hard, having so much to . . . hold in,” you whisper, your fingers trailing lazily along the edge of his sleeve. 

“please," he rasped. "we can't. i'm your father, for fuck's sake.” the words sounded weak even to his own ears. his resistance was crumbling by the second, defenses worn down by months of pent-up lust and longing. 

“not really.”

"go to bed," he repeats. this time his voice is barely more than a whimper.

"yeah, i'll go to bed . . .  but i’ll be thinking about you."

art's eyes slid shut as your fingers worked their way beneath the hem of his shirt, nails raking lightly over his abs. a low groan escaped him, the sound foreign to his own ears. he was in so deep, drowning in a sea of forbidden lust. 

“mhm, i’ll be thinking about you, daddy. are you gon’ make me take care of this myself?”  

art's breath hitched as your fingers trailed lower, brushing against the waistband of his jeans. his hips jerked involuntarily, aching for more contact despite the voice in the back of his head screaming at him to stop this madness. 

you pressed a kiss to his cheek, slow, wet. he wants to turn his head, to capture your lips with his own. to claim you, to ruin you for any other man. but he can't. he shouldn't. 

"please," he begs, but he's not even sure what he's asking for anymore. for you to stop? or for you to keep going, to grind against him until he explodes?

"i think you want this jus’ as badly as i do, huh?" your hand slid lower, brushing over the bulge straining against his zipper. "so why don't you stop fighting and just give in?"

and that's when art's careful control shattered. the last thread snapped, and a ragged curse tore from his throat as his hands shot out, grabbing your hips and hauling you onto his lap. capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, he scrabbles at your dress, rips it down.

he kisses you like a drowning man gasping for air, devouring you, pouring all his pent-up desire into the heated embrace. his fingers tangled in you hair, tugging roughly as he angled your head to deepen the kiss. you moan into his mouth, your own hands frantically roaming his chest and shoulders. art feels you grinding against him, the heat searing him even through his clothes.

he broke away from her lips to trail open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. down the column of her throat. "fuck, you drive me crazy," he growled against your skin, nipping at your pulse point.

your head lolls back, a wanton moan spilling from your lips. "please," you whimper, fingers scrabbling at his shirt. "i need you so bad."

art's mouth latched onto a pebbled nipple, sucking and biting as he ground his aching cock against you. his hands found your mouth, and he shoved a finger in. your tongue instinctively curling around the digits, lapping at them greedily. you mewled around his fingers, the sound muffled and desperate as arched into him, your own hands frantically working to undo his belt and zipper. art hissed in pleasure as your freed his throbbing member, stroking him slowly while he continued to ravish your chest. " 'm gonna fuck you so good." his hips rock into your hand, seeking more of that delicious friction.

he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, pupils blown wide with lust. "i'm going to make you mine," he growls, fingers delving into your panties to stroke your slick folds. "gon' — fuck. gonna stretch this pretty pussy out. yeah? . . . yeah, 's that what you want?"

it's filthy, degrading, everything he knows he shouldn't want. but god help him, he can't stop. you nod desperately as you groan into his touch, grip on his dick loosening for a second when he teases your entrance with a finger. another light brush and he lifts his hand to your mouth, slipping it back inside between your lips before scooching back. pressing his cock to your entrance through your lacy panties. "pl — please," you cry, eyes wide and watery. "fuck me, please."

art groans, grinding his cock against your soaked panties. the heat of you seeps through the lacy fabric, making him throb with need. he rubs his tip against the practically see-through fabric, soaked through with arousal. relishes your needy, breathy moans. he hooks his fingers around your panties and rips them away, baring you completely to his hungry gaze. "look at you," he rasps, drinking in the sight of you spread out beneath him, glistening. ready. "so fucking perfect. fuck — 'm gonna . . . i'm gon' wreck this pussy, baby. make it all mine, yeah?" he slaps his length against your clit, smirking crookedly at the way you whimper. "make you forget about all those other — other little boys, yeah?"

and with that, he notches the head of his dick against your entrance and surges forward, burying himself balls-deep in your tight, slick pussy. you cry out, back arching off the couch as he fills you. stretches you, claims you.

he sets a punishing pace, fucking into you like a man possessed. the wet slap of skin on skin fills the room, punctuated by your pornographic moans and his grunts of pleasure "fuckkk," you whine into him languidly, hands scrabbling against his thick arms. "fuck, daddy. you're — you're so fucking big."

he leans down to capture your lips in a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue. swallows your cries of ecstasy as he pounds into you. he grunts, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "you like this, huh? like daddy's big . . . fuck — big cock splitting you open, hm?"

you nod with a sob, thighs shaking at the relentless snapping of his hips into yours. his fingers find your clit, rubbing mercilessly. pushing you closer to the edge with every touch.

"gonna cum," he warns breathlessly, hips stuttering. "gon' fill your cunt up, baby. breed this pussy."

he leans down to bite at your neck, sucking dark bruises into your skin. marking you as his territory.

"cum for me, baby," he demands, voice strained with impending release. "milk — milk me fuckin' dry."

the filthy words send you over the edge, your walls clamping down on him like a vice. you cum with a scream, convulsing around his shaft as he empties himself inside you with a loud moan.

he collapses on top of you, both of you panting and sated. for a long moment, he just holds you, nuzzling into your neck. you smile at him like you'd just won the lottery, legs wrapping around his hips.

"am i better than mom?" you whispered into his ear.

he lets out a real, honest-to-god bark of a laugh. "jesus christ," he pants. "you're fucking . . . you're amazing. fucking intense."

understatement of the century. he just fucked his stepdaughter senseless, filled her with his babies, and he's already craving more. fuck, he's in deep. so fucking deep. literally and figuratively.

¡! ❞ © niya-writesshit 2024

[mortalityplays]

Forgive me if I'm mistaking you for another person, but I remember you speaking at multiple points on the unsustainability of free social media services (I think especially in response to the cohost collapse?), and I'm curious on what your thoughts on bluesky are so far. I'm not an expert on the subject, but from what I've read previously it seemed like they were on track to be financially sustainable, but I don't know if the recent floods of users has thrown those projections off. Sorry if I'm mixing you up with someone else on my timeline, in that case just ignore me.

bluesky will almost certainly follow the same trajectory of monetisation => bloat => enshittification => decline as every other major platform built on venture capital and user hoarding. it's a terrible model that only works in the short term as a mirage for attracting funding and making founders look good for a year or two before they sell.

you can see the same effect in the decline of all the subscription box services that came into vogue just before covid: they feel great to use for as long as the initial injection of venture funding lasts, because the purpose of that funding at that stage is to attract users and impress the next round of funders with how pleasant/intuitive/efficient/ethical/good value the service is. that's the stage where they're handing out freebies and bowling over influencers, and every ingredient in the box is fresh and high quality and locally sourced. wow what a good deal, what a great system!!! why hasn't anyone done this before? the answer is because it's unsustainable by design. they rack up good reviews, sign on a billion new users, attract new funding from a bunch of much more credulous investors, and then gut all of the expensive parts. portions get smaller, ingredients get worse, packaging gets flimsier, prices go up, freebies turn into "5% off your first 9 boxes when you invite 3 friends", and customer service vanishes.

with social media (and platforms like discord) the logic is the same, it's just a little less glaringly obvious to the end user because they're not coming home to leaking packages of rancid chicken on the doorstep. bluesky has an advantage over tiny operations like cohost because it was founded by a billionaire making a point for the sake of his own image. it got a really significant chunk of startup funding, and the owner had existing connections and rep in the space to attract more. That's why it has survived the goldrush period, why it still feels good to use, and why users who have been burned so many times before are finally accepting it as a stable, reliable option. It's still in its venture capital honeymoon phase where the only thing worth spending money on is making the service attractive to users.

What I expect we will see next, with another mass influx of users from twitter and new funding from a rogue's gallery of tech venture sickos led by Blockchain Capital is a strong ramp up into monetising that userbase. They've already been pretty forthright about how they plan to do this, and I think it's a solid roadmap of how Bluesky will bloat and decay over the next few years:

this is a huge lol. don't worry, we're not going to hyperfinancialize the social experience through NFTs. the thing even crypto freaks started feigning amnesia about a year ago. real "our health conscious sodas are 100% arsenic free" messaging here. They know perfectly well that rubes users are suspicious of their typical 5 dimensional tech finance chess games and are patting our hands about last week's bogeymen so nobody worries too hard about whatever 'decentralised developer ecosystem' just happens to be helmed by a bunch of crypto guys. this definitely means something good and based and not a google-like single sign on user data harvesting operation.

This is the same shit that's currently rotting the floorboards of discord. Bluntly, there is no way to run a platform on this scale without gating functionality behind paid services. Discord has been squeezing free-tier file uploads and call quality etc. down steadily and cranking up subscription costs over the last year or two, throwing in chaff like animated avatar frames to try and justify the user cost. They're also doing the same misdirection thing again here, pointing to Thing We All Hate to deflect from thing we might not like very much when they do it. Booo elon booo we all hate elon!!! wait how do we feel about subscription models again,

watch out for this to kill porn on bsky like it has killed porn on every other social platform 👍 boooo we hate elon boooo stupid idiot and his 'everything app' booooo wait why do you need my tax information, what's that about mastercard,

Look, we are all aware social media is a money pit. Let's not forget dorsey was looking to sell twitter in the first place, long before elon's very public plunge into total online derangement. Subscription services are not going to plug the hole, so we are gradually going to see more and more spaghetti thrown at the wall while early funders shuffle cards and do their pyramid scheme bit bringing in stupider and stupider investments. this is the window in which bluesky will be temporarily worth using for us, for the idiot public, the poorly rendered crowd jpegs in the background of their venture capital MOBA. it's in their interests to slow and pad the decline as much as possible, because that is how they get maximally paid.

Given the scale of the money involved, and dorsey's weird ego investment, I think bluesky will probably manage a controlled drift for a good few years before it gets really bloated and painful. and by then we will all be so used to the *checks notes* decentralised developer ecosystem that we'll just be posting through it, watching another generation of columnists call another collapsing platform 'their beloved hellsite' and passing around that meme about not getting out of our chairs no sir until idk we all get on a fediverse neurolink alternative to stick it to the elongated muskrat and our brains pop peacefully in our sleep. which I guess is the closest thing to viability any social media platform can achieve.

anyway diogenes the cynic is also on bluesky

[raysrambles]

on the day the election results got announced, one of my friends wasn't at school. she was the friend that I had the most classes with, and I remember as the hours ticked by the painful knowledge that she wasn't sick, not physically, but that she just couldn't bear to be there that day.

i overheard classmates talking. "how are you?" asked one; in a broken voice, another: "I don't know".

"I'm scared," was the most common sentence I heard that day. "i can't live like this," said someone in the hallway; "we've still got each other," said another in what I desperately wanted to believe was hope.

"I prayed last night for the first time since I was five," said a friend of a friend; I looked out the classroom window at the cloudy sky and wondered if there was a god, and if he had heard them.

I watched people break down crying in the middle of class. by the end of the day, several kids had left school early.

"I need to get out of here," I said to my friends at lunch. "we're not going to make it another four years," said one of them grimly. how dystopian, how orwellian was it that a group of seventeen year olds were so casually discussing their escape from the country they had grown up in, the country that had raised them only to throw them to the dirt before they were even able to vote?

after school i drove to another school for a debate tournament. one of the judges who I hadn't seen in a year and with whom I'd only had one or two conversations came up to me and asked "how are you doing?"

"could be better," I admitted, "but I'm surviving." that was a bit of an understatement; there were tears in my eyes even as I spoke.

"I'm here," she told me, this woman who I hardly knew, and I realized that she was asking because she remembered one of our only interactions, a year ago, where I had casually mentioned being trans--

--and her gaze flitted down to my shoes, where back then I had had beads in the colors of the trans flag, beads that weren't there anymore, not because of any change in myself but that of the world around me.

"I'm here," she said again, and we stared at each other for a few seconds. I managed a "thanks", not trusting myself to say anything else.

that night I went onto Instagram. someone I hadn't spoken to since we fell out over a year ago had texted me a simple "I love you and am with you" type of message. all of my friends and even people I hardly knew were posting about the election, and I remembered

back when Biden was elected, the Republicans I saw online reacted with hatred, disgust, doubt for his abilities

but now all I saw from the ones who had lost this battle was fear

when the other side lost, they had the privilege of hatred

now that we've lost, all we can do is fear.

terrified sixteen, seventeen, eighteen year olds, in flurries of messages to long-gone friends and frantic posts. I had never felt more united, and yet I could not relish in our closeness because I knew it was not the closeness of friends but the closeness of soldiers too young for war, huddling close as their imminent death rained down from the sky, searching for some last comfort at the end of their too-short stories.

"I won't pretend this isn't as bad as it is," I typed out, "honestly I'm freaking scared. But we owe it to ourselves not to let this be the end of our beliefs.

"We still know we're right, even if the government doesn't agree. We're still all in this together.

"Love to everyone who's affected by this. I'm right here with you. Stay safe everyone."

I posted the Instagram story, praying to a god I didn't know that the words were true.

the next night when the house and senate election results came in, I cried, and it was not pretty crying, it was a child wracked with sobs in the dark on the floor of their room because they were only seventeen and terrified for their future.

I spent a long time writing that night, something I do to process my thoughts when everything is too much. I will simply offer this passage, which I think speaks for itself.

"Shall I tell them I am afraid because of the election? Shall I tell them that all day I have felt like a child masquerading as a man, scared of the boogeyman as i am scared of the fascist-like creature whose grasp is tightening and whose claws never cease, closing in on lives like a predator its prey? That I am a child scared of insignificance, of a fate I did not choose, of becoming a meaningless name among many, not of democracy falling but of not being the one who felled it?"

So to everyone celebrating the election, I'm glad that you're happy, truly I am. But I ask you to think of me and my friends, still children, most of us not quite old enough to even have our say in this country, as you laugh and rejoice and mock all of us who you defeated.

How many times must we cry, must we fall, must we watch each other die before enough will be enough?

Will it ever be enough?

[alex51324]

Now, more than ever, we need to be careful about spreading misinformation and rumors

I can guarantee that over the next few months, we'll be hearing about a lot of alarming things going on here in the US. Some of those things will be true, and some won't. (And some will have both true and false or exaggerated elements.)

It's going to be absolutely vital that important information is not drowned out by misinformation, rumors, and ragebait.

That means, when you see something that would be important if true, before sharing, you check whether it's actually true.

In library world, we use the acronym SIFT:

STOP: Don't spread the information, or get caught up in your emotional reaction to it, before you've checked it out. INVESTIGATE: Who is saying it? How do they know? If there are links or sources in the post, do they actually say what the person is saying they do? FIND other coverage: Do an internet search for key details: quotes, people's names, specific locations. If something major is happening, there will normally be a lot of coverage. TRACE claims, quotes, and media back to their original context.

Usually you don't need to do all four things: just STOP and then pick what makes sense from the other three. If you decide to share the information, you can also say what you did--"This is a firsthand account from XYZ protest; it lines up with what the local TV station is saying, but has a lot more details about what the cops did," or whatever.

The more urgent the information seems, the more important it is to make sure it's reliable.

If we're hearing every other day that this or that vulnerable group is in immediate, life-threatening danger--but 49 times out of 50 it turns out to mean Trump rambled somewhere about something which, if actually implemented, could end up having the described consequences at some point down the line--then people aren't going to know the difference the one time in 50 when the danger really is immediate.

Think, here, things like immigration crackdowns, CPS investigations into parents who affirm a trans child's gender, or demands that health care providers report miscarriages to law enforcement. We all know that these are things Trump World talks about a lot and would like to be able to do, in some form. For the sake of the people affected by these topics, we need different ways of talking about, "Here they are, back on their bullshit," versus, "This is a policy proposal for a real thing that could happen," versus, "Holy shit, grab the kids and run."

We cannot go to "Holy shit, grab the kids and run" every time Trump, or someone in his inner circle, decides to bloviate about something that could disastrously affect people lives. The people who are most in danger can't stay at DefCon 5 every day of their lives, and when they do really have to grab the kids and run, we need that alarm to be heard over the constant background hum of dread.

The same goes for action items--whether protests, ways to help, or little things people can do to stay safe/sane. There's going to be plenty going on, and nobody is going to be able to do everything, so do your part by passing along those things that you can vouch are true and important, and skipping the things you aren't sure about.

I'll leave you with an example. Remember how a few years ago, we were all-in about hand hygiene and disinfecting surfaces? And then it turned out that those were not actually very important in terms of preventing the transmission of COVID-19, and what we really need is better air filtration in public spaces--but, at my work at least, we still have canisters of surface-disinfecting wipes sitting around, and tattered old signs up about hand hygiene, and no air filters.

At the time, early in the pandemic, we were sharing the best information we knew about how to stay safe, but people got a little too fixated on that initial advice--remember how people would wipe down their groceries? And those little sticks for pressing elevator buttons?--and then when the advice changed, they didn't want to hear about it.

Distrust, fatigue, superstitious attachment to the old grocery-wiping ways--there were a lot of reasons, but the key thing to take away is that attention, energy, and goodwill are all finite resources. Try to avoid wasting it with grocery-wiping--or worse, shilling for the guy selling little sticks to press elevator buttons with.

[harunayuuka2060]

'Oh, why must I be plagued by such 'ineptitude' around me? I gave you one simple task: bring me Idia Shroud. And what did you do? You captured two random students and held them hostage!'

Arcane Hunter A: But boss, one of them is a fae, and I remember you were fanboying over someone like that on TV.

Arcane Hunter B: *nudges him* *giving his partner a look to shut up*

Arcane Hunter A: What?

'...'

'A fae?'

Arcane Hunter A: Yeah. And they're good-looking too.

*The mysterious figure seems to have been reminded of something.*

'Ah, of course... They're also enrolled at Night Raven College... Haha! How could I have overlooked such an important detail?'

Arcane Hunter A: Uh... Boss?

'I suppose I can pardon your failure on this mission... for the time being.'

MC: For those who call themselves Arcane Hunters, they certainly seem to lack the ability to properly secure hostages.

MC: Anyway, how are you feeling, Ortho?

Ortho: I feel much better now, and I’ve already sent our coordinates to my brother.

Ortho: Also, thank you for the repair.

MC: *smiles* I only managed to gather the tools you needed, but you did all the work.

Ortho: *giggles* I was impressed when you managed to sneak out without anyone noticing.

MC: *chuckles then stops*

Ortho: They're back.

MC: Yes, and they've brought someone with them.

*The Arcane Hunters entered the room, accompanying the person in front of them.*

Arcane Hunter A: *noticed that Ortho is awake*

Arcane Hunter A: Huh, looks like the robot kid can fix himself.

Arcane Hunter B: S.T.Y.X technology is truly impressive.

Ortho: ...

'Now, now, don’t frighten the poor child. We wouldn’t want to appear rude in front of our esteemed guest, would we? *looking at MC and smiles*

MC: ...

MC: Pardon me, but I don't believe we've met before.

'Indeed, we haven't had the pleasure, for I am merely an admirer, utterly captivated by your performance in the Sing and Dance Competition. Ah, forgive me—I seem to have neglected a proper introduction.

*kneels in front of them, taking MC's hand*

I am Remington Ashford, 23 years old, and still searching for a partner who will truly appreciate me. *kisses the back of their hand, gazing into their eyes*

MC: ...

Ortho: Ew.

Arcane Hunters: This little—

Malleus and Ruggie: *both seething in anger*

Malleus: Shroud, are you familiar with this Ashford?

Idia: *sigh* Yes. He's the boss of the AetherTech Industries.

Ruggie: Sounds bougie, but it doesn't ring a bell.

Idia: Of course, it just opened not too long ago.

Malleus: Then, does he need something from you?

Idia: I don't know. *frowns* But whatever it is, I'll make sure he'll regret hurting Ortho.

[faiszt]

✦ ⠀.⠀° ⠀BOT DUMP :⠀ by⠀﹫⠀faiszt ⠀/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⠀♡

NOTES⠀. ᰰ⠀ so... don't judge me for having art donaldson as my comfort character, it's already inevitable. (for real)

PS.⠀remember, bots are not real. take care of yourself.⠀🩶

▸⠀CHALLENGERS⠀*⠀˖⠀🎾

𝅭⠀hello, you⠀.⠀art donaldson⠀૮⠀anyone was really replaceable to you, except him. art donaldson, your idol, was all that mattered to you. your room was like a shrine to him, with his posters and rackets similar to the ones he had once used. you knew everything about him and his life, right down to the library he visited constantly—you were the new librarian. poor boy.⠀♡ gender neutral!

▸⠀FORMULA 1⠀*⠀˖⠀🏁

𝅭⠀see me in hindsight⠀.⠀franco colapinto⠀૮⠀nothing lasts forever, does it? you wished you had thought that before your affair with him, but now it was all over and he was knocking on your door again.⠀♡ gender neutral!

▸⠀MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE⠀*⠀˖⠀💬

𝅭⠀winter comes⠀.⠀winter soldier⠀૮⠀his life was never simple, never peaceful and in the midst of it all, he found peace in you, in your presence, in being with you. but, the truth was clear: when winter comes, bucky is gone. you ran away from it, from him and everything else. no use, he needed you and he found you.⠀♡ female!user

𝅭⠀lovers ≈ archenemies⠀.⠀black widow⠀૮⠀twenty years ago, she loved you with her life and never forgot you for a single day—but, things changed, you were a monster, a bloodthirsty monster who felt betrayed by her and would kill anyone who reminded you of that, who reminded you of natasha romanoff, your archenemy.⠀♡ female!user

▸⠀OUTER BANKS⠀*⠀˖⠀🗝️

𝅭⠀dollface⠀.⠀rafe cameron⠀૮⠀he didn't care about lovers or dating, such trivial things, no matter how much topper talked about it—he couldn't care less. until your beach ball landed right next to him and he mentally cursed himself for not being the first to talk to you, an angel right in front of him.⠀dollie!user ♡ female!user

𝅭⠀pretty girl treatment⠀.⠀rafe cameron⠀૮⠀caring, loving and calm, no one ever imagined that someone would use those words to describe him—and that's exactly what you did. rafe wasn't a prince charming, much less acted like one, but he'd give you a shiny crown if you wanted it, anything for his quiet doll.⠀dollie!user ♡ female!user

▸⠀SCREAM⠀*⠀˖⠀🔪

𝅭⠀throwing knives⠀.⠀billy loomis⠀૮⠀in secret, you were there. living in the shadow of his relationship, he didn't love sidney, he never would—in fact, he swore to love you, the other person in his life, the one who knew about his bloody plans, the one who loved him even in his eternal insanity. as franz kafka said before: you are the knife i turn inside myself; that is love.⠀♡ gender neutral!

[lostwordsfromthatdarkcorner]

Which is why we have to make THEM rethink their views.

Providing evidence or actively arguing with them will make the other side defensive. They'll be less inclined to listen, going back to their echo chambers. A lot of people are pointing to how the Left and Right seldom interact, which may have exasperated the divide in this election.

In my college psych class, we were taught that it's more effective to have people change their own mind. Which I understand if you think, "That's crazy. You're crazy. They'll never see reason!". But at the end of the day, we are all human. We all want affordable food and house. To live our lives. It's just the way to that goal is different or given different logic.

I'm sure you remember a time when you changed your mind on something. It may have taken awhile. You talked to other people, read some articles/books, and changed your opinion. But it all started because you started to doubt what you originally believed.

I don't remember the technical term for it. That psych class was 2 years ago. But if you talk to someone LISTEN. Then try and sow seeds of doubt. Bring their argument to the extreme continuation. "So, no Transgender people in sports? Okay, then we should do hormone tests on all Cis athletes. If testosterone is too high, then they can't play the sport. In fact, testosterone and estrogen should be in certain levels for maximum fairness. Etc." There is a Psych Today article that explains this better than I can in this spur of the moment rant. (I'm sorry, I've never linked anything in a Tumblr post beforel)

https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/communications-that-matter/202401/how-to-change-someones-mind-according-to-neuroscience%3famp

The US election may be done. But that doesn't mean we can't start change. Start with your family, aquitances. This ripple effect can spread as they talk to other people who may also start to doubt their views.

Please do not give up! If you're looking for a "What next" take this as a sign. We can be the change! I don't care if that's too optimistic. Hope, although frail is hard to kill. And sometimes all we need is a little hope.

[stephiramona]

The tale of two cities according to Heiko and Stephi - Part 498

Germany is a beer country and therefore we're more famous for our beer than for our wine. Heiko and I had several posts about beer in our "tales" but if I remember correctly, we never wrote about German wine. Sadly, now I'm the one who has to write about wine, which is not ideal because I can't drink wine and so I don't know a lot about wine at all. But surely some needed a good wine to celebrate the political changes of this week or to compensate for the frustration about it. Or maybe even both, because this week two big political changes happened.

The first change was the US elections. Many people here in Germany followed the US election because the outcome also influences us, just as it influences many other countries in the world.

And here most people hoped for a different outcome, while most people were happy about the changes in German politics this week. I will try to explain this briefly to non-Germans. In Germany, we have several parties to vote for. And because we have so many parties, usually none of them gets a real majority. So different parties have to coalition to govern for the next four years. The last election was almost three years ago and a three-party-coalition was made. That didn't work well. The political views of these three parties were too different and they had so many fights that it only got more and more frustrating. But on Wednesday, our Bundeskanzler Olaf Scholz made public that - basically - one of the three parties is out.

So we need early elections. New votes, new hopes.

I also want to mention the two German historical dates of this week: November 9th, 1938, was one of the most horrible dates in German history. The "Novemberpogrome" or "Reichskristallnacht". On this night, the Nazis damaged so many synagogues, businesses, and houses of Jewish people, and murdered many Jews. A really horrible night under a horrible regime.

November 9th, 1989, was a better date: the Berlin Wall fell. For 28 years, the country, including families, and friends were split into two parts: West Germany and the DDR. After the wall fell, families and friends were able to reunite and 11 months later, on October 3rd, Germany reunited.

I hope you can forgive me that I mixed so much political and historical stuff into this post which originally should have been about wine. (BTW, the first photo was taken by Heiko and shows the wine museum in Cologne, and the second one shows a wine shop in Munich).

[lokisprettygirl]

Twice the love (Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon Modern Au)

Summary : You meet the love of your life during the worst night of your life but your man might not be who he claims to be.

Warning: Drowning, Resuscitation, Mention of suicidal ideation, alludes to cheating and smut

Note : I'm working on the next chapter of RTHF (I'm not abandoning it) but I had this little thing in my head so decided to write it down.

You remembered that night clearly as if it were yesterday, the night you had seen him for the first time, the night he had saved your life.

You had no intention of dying per say but you were drunk, depressed and lacked the most important skill one required before jumping into the water that was supposedly way deeper than 4 feet. Looking back now perhaps you wanted to die that night, or maybe you had a distorted sense of ideation but he had saved you.

You didn't remember much when he resuscitated you but you remembered his face, his angelic godly face, you remembered his greenish hazel eyes, his cheekbones that were sharper than your wit, and you remembered his silver hair, his curls wet and sticking onto his forehead.

“Come on darling, don't give up, you can't give up” 

You remembered hearing his soft murmur as he tried his best to pump the water out of your lungs.

You remembered his face vividly, but then you slipped into unconsciousness once more. When you awoke, you found yourself encircled by your friends, none of whom knew anything about the person who had saved your life, not even his name. He had quietly departed after ensuring you were safe amongst your loved ones.

From that moment onwards you felt as if you owed your life to him, an innate sense of gratitude filled your heart for that strange gentleman, it was as if that angelic man had stolen a part of your soul that you would never be able to reclaim again unless or until you see him but how were you supposed to find him? You didn't even know his name or where he had come from, all you remembered was his beautiful face.

You dreamt of him pretty often, innocuous dreams at first that became intimate later on, more than intimate if you were being honest with yourself, you saw his face so vividly as if he was actually there. You had committed every little feature to your memory, and everytime you woke up, you woke up with heavy breaths and a burning in your loins but then followed the disappointment and the emptiness, a void that you could never fill. 

It all came to a stop though, a year later you saw him in a bar, having drinks with his friends, before you could stop yourself your feet dragged you to him on their own, like a moth to a flame you approached him, gently tugging on his forearm to get his attention, you could hear his friends making crude jokes in the background but you didn't care at the moment..

Perhaps you should have cared, and you should have noticed how he had joined them instead of shutting it down immediately. You should have noticed. 

“Do you remember me?”

You mustered the courage to ask, your voice tinged with hope and a hint of vulnerability. He took one last swig of his drink before turning his attention towards you finally, looking at you from head to toe.

"Should I?" he inquired, his eyes meeting yours with a look of mild confusion. A year had passed since that night, and you couldn't help but wonder if he had forgotten you, a messed-up drunk stranger he had pulled from the water. Despite the doubts in your mind, you held onto a sliver of hope.

It was him, you wouldn't forget that face, that much you knew, he had been in your dreams almost every other night since that fateful one, he had been making it difficult for you to forget him.

“You saved my life two years ago, Margate beach?” You spoke nervously, sounding like an idiot probably so he chuckled and then smirked in response.

“Of Course i remember, how could I forget you love?” 

He told you and you breathed a sigh of relief as you heard those words.

He remembered you.

Now two years later you found yourself seated at a dinner rehearsal, some cousin of his you didn't even know or even heard of before.

He insisted you join him as his plus one even though he knew how important this week was for you and your late blooming career. You didn't want to upset him so you obliged, he had saved your life after all.

You didn't like upsetting him, you didn't like it when he got mad and raised his voice and-

“Excuse me, i think you're in the wrong seat” You heard a lady's voice so you got up and excused yourself as you stepped out of the lounge.

It didn't matter if he got upset sometimes, he had saved your life, perhaps he wasn't how you had imagined him to be in your head during that year you had dreamt of him but you loved him now and he made you happy…at times. It wasn't all bad.

You tried your best to make sure it wasn't all bad.

As you saw him leaning against the bannister in the corridor you approached him from behind and hugged him tightly. His familiar presence eased your anxiety a little.

“You brought me here and left me with people I don't know -”

You mumbled softly so he turned around, you didn't recognise the clothes he was wearing, a black suit you didn't even know he owned, it certainly wasn't his style, you were sure he had packed something else for the rehearsal dinner.

His eyes widened as he faced you and stared at you as if he was seeing you after a long time.

“You-” he spoke softly but then he paused for a moment, his eyes kept flickering, “You are okay” he continued so you looked at him confused,

“I'm okay yeah but I was missing you, I don't know anyone and I sat on the wrong seat like a moron” 

He placed his fingers on your cheek and caressed your skin, his touch felt different- softer, more loving, you couldn't really describe it but he seemed gentler, a feeling you have never had before with him, perhaps it was his surroundings, being around the family must have been comforting.

 It just bothered you how he had never told you anything about his family or his siblings but then you never told him about your family either, not because you didn't want to, but because he didn't ask.

In the past two years he never even asked why you were so drunk that night that you forgot you couldn't really swim.

Before your thoughts could spiral you cradled his cheeks between your palms and got on your tiptoes to kiss him ever so tenderly. He seemed as if he was taken aback for a moment but then he reciprocated the kiss, you felt your whole body lighting up as he moved his lips against yours, his touch felt soothing, like warm fire in cold winter, he tasted different and he smelled different so you pulled away to look at him for a moment as you couldn't really make sense of it. 

“Ray-” You spoke nervously but then you heard his voice.

“I see you have met my twin, love” 

You heard his voice so you looked behind in shock, you found your boyfriend of two years standing right behind you, the man who had saved your life staring back at you or so you thought.

“Raymond” You gulped in confusion as you said his name so he walked towards you and placed his arm around your waist to pull your closer, his fingers digging into your waist almost painfully, in the surrealism of the moment you didn't notice how how his hair looked the same way it did after he made love to you or how there was a red mark on his neck that you certainly didn't give him.

“Your brother?” You mumbled as you looked at the man in front of you, the man you had kissed just now, the man whose kiss had made you feel alive again, almost like that night when he had-

As your eyes welled up he furrowed his brows and brought his hand forward-

“Daemon.. Daemon Targaryen, it's good to see you..again.. darling”

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

[plutoenjoyer]

jooyeon — sleepyhead

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

genre: fluff 𓇬 wc: 1.7k tags: female reader, established relationship, making out, napping, playful banter, not proofread as usual warnings: none

summary: you stay late with jooyeon at the studio, and you can't help that he's so fun to mess with (lovingly). notes: this was meant to be a part of the "jooyeon randomly biting you" wip but it ended up getting too long and becoming its own thing. now with 100x more reader being cheeky and him being an absolute sucker for it!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

jooyeon invites you to the studio with him if he plans to do some solo practice. it's nice to have some company while he strums away at his instrument for hours, and of course, you don't mind one bit. it's already hard enough to find time to meet with both of your busy schedules, so you'll take any moment of comfortable, quality alone time with him. not only that, it really is a treat to get to see him practice. you think his voice is beautiful, and the gentle lull of his instrument (today, he felt like acoustic guitar) almost always put you to sleep while you're sitting in the corner of the room with his jacket over you like a blanket. it's like being gently guided into a deep sleep, and by god you needed it considering how overworked you were almost all the time. it's warm and safe. you're out in no time.

jooyeon's just about to wrap up when he checks the time. 11 pm. he did not mean to go this late. the other members had waved a goodbye to him what feels like just a moment ago, but in reality it was about two hours. and then he remembers, oh yeah my girlfriend is here, and he's about to ask you if you're ready to head out when he sees your eyes shut, slumped peacefully against the wall.

he feels bad that he made you sit and wait so long. truthfully, he was just so into an idea for a potential song that he lost track of time. he very gently puts the guitar back into the case and gets up, approaching your sleeping figure. he tries his best, for once in his life, to be quiet so he doesn't disturb you. he crouches down onto his knees, resting his cheek against his arms as he looks at you. if anyone were to walk by and see his face they could tell just how in love he was with you.

god, you're pretty. too pretty, the thinks to himself as he watches the way your soft lips are slightly parted as you breathe. he never thought in his twenty two years of life he'd ever care about such a thing but here he was, head over heels for a girl who can't stop biting him.

(and he wonders how you're even able to sleep in such an uncomfortable position. doesn't that hurt your neck?)

gently he taps your arm, and when you don't wake up he grabs your wrist and shakes it a little harder. you were tired, but not tired enough to be able to sleep through that. soon enough you were trying to blink the moisture back into your eyes after having such a good nap.

you slur your words with a small groan of displeasure, "mmn ... joo, are you done ... ?"

he hums in agreement, "mhm, yeah. i'm sorry it took so long." he smiles a bit at how your hair is messed up on one side as you squint at him, trying to readjust to the light.

it would be pretty easy to just stand up right now and grab your things so you both could go home. your bag is right there. but instead, the menace that you are, decide to wrap yourself up tighter in jooyeon's jacket and rest your head back against the wall. you catch the faint smell of his cologne on the jacket as you snuggle into it again.

he looks at you with an unamused pout. "hey."

"just ... mmmfive more minutes ..."

"god, and i'm the sleepyhead?" he scoffs at you, "we gotta go, y'know."

bantering with him was starting to wake you up but you were weirdly comfortable in a way, and taking the fact that you also liked to cause problems for him into consideration, still didn't get up. "you're just mad i napped without you." you don't hide your languid smile.

he decides to convince you with a cheeky remark, "i'll give you a reward if you get up."

"like what?"

"hmm ... how about a kiss?" he slightly sticks out his tongue, trying to give you a playfully flirty expression. his eyebrow raises at you suggestively.

silence. you open your eyes solely to give him a look of disinterest and slight disapproval.

"you could at least go along with it," he whines. but truthfully, he knew that wouldn't work. he's already onto his next mode of convincing. what's the next key to your heart if not for him?

"we can make instant noodles if we get back in time before bed."

by now you're fully awake and shoot him a scrutinizing squint from your unmoving position against the wall. "the buldak or the shin ramyun? choose wisely."

"hmmm ... buldak."

this sparks your interest. "good choice," your tone reflects your immediate approval, "okay, just help me up first," you make grabby hands at him to signal for him to come closer and pull you up. he rolls his eyes at your enthusiasm for the food rather than his affection, yet even if you act silly and intentionally stubborn he still does everything you ask him to just to make you happy.

and happy you are, because he falls right into your trap. before he can lift you up, you grab him by the arms with unexpected force and he almost falls on top of you if not for his quick reflexes. he has both hands on the arm rests of the chair that you're in, hovering above you just inches away from your face. he looks at you in surprise as the adrenaline from the reflexes kicks in.

you grin. "i lied, i want the kiss." you squeeze your eyes shut and purse your lips into a comedic duck-lipped, kissy face. it doesn't last long because after you feel nothing, your eyes flutter open, already giggling at how dumb and annoying you're acting. he looks like he cannot fathom how you're acting right now.

you think he's not going to do it and begin to shift your body up and out of the seat, but you're stopped half way.

"you are so frustrating, you know that," he reprimands you with a slight growl before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. it's clear he savors the feeling despite how he feigns annoyance. you can't ever let him know he caught you by surprise and how your stomach does a flip, because he would never let you live it down.

after a moment you regain your composure (the best you can mid kiss), exceedingly satisfied with how quickly he bends to your will. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him further into you, indulging in the feeling of his slightly chapped lips against yours. he has to steady himself by pressing his knee into the seat, right between your legs and he makes a little noise into your mouth out of surprise. you just can't help yourself if he's going to be that cute. you know that he knows this, and how that aggravates him as someone who claims to be the epitome of manliness.

what was supposed to be a quick peck turns into something more—suddenly he is hungrier for your taste after being provoked so much, turning it into an open mouthed kiss and then a slow, heated make-out session on the well worn armchair of the studio. it's hot. his breath mingles with yours. despite your consistent teasing you are more than willing to melt into his touch. your heart races at the feeling of him searching, wanting more from the heat of your mouth at such a slow and sleepy pace. you quickly feel your face heating up, following his move and willing to give him whatever he wanted from your lips. your hands roam around the expanse of his back and it feels like this moment could last forever.

as soon as you part you look at his love-stricken expression, eyes half-lidded and giving you a crooked smile as he presses his forehead into yours, breathing heavy. his lips are little swollen and pink in the aftermath. you can't help yourself from smiling too, gently running your hands through his hair and twirling bits into your fingers with a satisfied hum. your first thought was that he was so beautiful, and so, so sweet. being with him was thrilling, even if you were doing something as silly as making out like teenagers skipping class.

you're looking at his face like this is the last day you'll ever see it, just admiring how gorgeous he is. he giggles and you feel the faint breath on your cheek. "what?" he gives you a toothy grin, his voice low and raspy and delirious as if he was drunk on your taste alone.

your voice comes out small yet so in love, "'ts nothing. i just like you." which is just scratching the surface of how much you really felt about him.

he looks deep into your eyes, roaming throughout the specks of light that swim through your irises, gives you one last quick peck. "i like you too."

you smile. you know that no matter how silly or stubborn you are he would always be by your side. even when you refuse to get up and he has to coerce you to, even when you spontaneously can't get your hands off each other. you realize the mushy feelings that are bubbling in your throat and threaten to come out as happy tears. in order to break the tension, you joke, "can we still make instant noodles?"

and he laughs, and you feel the warm vibrations against your body, "yes. we can still make the noodles. promise no veggies though."

finally, the two of you get up from the armchair and he's cheesy about it. he grabs your hand, pulls you up into him and spins you. you're always ready to be silly and sappy with him, so you make sure to make a show out of it, all while snickering about how gross it all is. and finally, you make your way home. you think about how good the ramen is going to be. you think about how good it feels, right now, to walk home with him, hand in hand in the cold air of night.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

masterlist | request rules | inbox

thank you for reading! <3

[ireallyneedaintrestinglife]

I remember thinking I was either going to move out of the house immediately once i turned 18 or be dead so it wouldn't matter when I was growing up.

I always knew the way we were treated was fucked up but never really started to actually talk about it explicitly to my sister or brother or even other close family friends until about a year or so ago and as a result never really got to actually understand it or be validated in the fact that I had to deal with a bunch of messed up stuff as a kid.

Looking around I'm now 23 and it feels like I only just now have the time and ability to find out who I actually am underneath this pile of stitched together coping mechanisms that got me this far and I'm terrified. I have no clue who I am or what I want to be I have some interests and got a college degree but I just don't know what I want or who I am and that's terrifying especially when the people around me are getting married and having kids and I'm still trying to find out who I am.

You talking about this really helped remind me that I am so much further than where I was from the start and it really made me happy to realize that other people have had the same feelings of loss when it comes to them growing up as well.

We can do this of that I have no doubt.

I turn 31 on Saturday.

I remember the panic when I was turning 28. It felt like I really only began living in my mid twenties. I spent most of my teen years thinking I was going to kill myself eventually, so I never made a plan for my future.

I spent my early 20's struggling with suicidal thoughts, and I even made some genuine attempts. I really only began healing around then and it felt like it was only around 25 when I began really living.

It left me feeling sick with anxiety and sadness anytime my birthday came around because I felt like I'd lost so much time.

And I've come to realize that while I did lose years to mental illness, trauma and abuse... I still have so many years to enjoy. I can't get those back, and getting stuck on thinking about that is taking away my current time from me. I deserved better, but I can't fix that. I also deserve to enjoy my time now, and I can't do that when I'm stuck on the past.

As my birthday approaches this year, I don't feel anxiety. There's a little bit of sadness which I think is fair, but mostly I feel curiousity. I am curious for what the future holds, and I know that I can still make a beautiful life for myself.

I am so loved. I spend so much time laughing. I spend so much time doing stuff I love.

I lost time. But I don't have to continue losing time.

I hope that if you are dealing with the feelings I did about getting older because of the years you lost that you can get to a point like me. I allowed myself to grieve that loss, and I can't even fix that, but I can still enjoy my time now and I intend to.

[tolik-pawlusz]

Some time ago i said i was working on the little art project on saraph 23. So here we go. I already stated that saraphs are creatures of the Night Pomel, the first layer of reality. They are powerful creatures made by Ancient Gods for serving their needs. Saraphs don't have names, their own ego nor free will. 23 was a project initiated by Witsichillinoah, the god of destruction. The purpose of their existence was to see the core of everything in this universe and destroy it in few moments. And this was fine till in their universe appeared something from another world. It was the human named Kazimir Fintou, who became the favourite creature of the oldest god Enmaru. 23 could hear Kazimir, but couldn't see or touch him. So when Enmaru asked 23 to imitate human appearance to not scare Kazimir, the appearance 23 took was some abstract mess based on what 23 heard of Kazimir.

When 23 was in the process of developing, gods already thought that this creature would be too powerful that it could kill a god or destroy the whole universe. The ancient gods once saw a catastrophe that almost caused the collapse of their world. Even though they never witnessed death, they were afraid of it, except for Witsichillinoah, the youngest of them, and Enmaru, who was almost killed then and don't remember much about these events. So gods heavily edited the project of saraph 23, to make it more controllable and less pleasant in communication so nobody would feel pity to 23 if something would go wrong and the only option would be to kill this saraph.

At first there were thousands of 23s. Gods found them pretty usefull for cleaning big areas in universe. But they still thought that even one of these things could kill them. And once they tested it. Witslichillinoah violated the rules of the ancient gods and attacked one of them. 23 was used to wipe existence of the young god out of their reality. After this gods decided to eliminate all 23s and put data of existence of every 23 in one of them. But since 23s didn't feel anything they were ok with it.

When the Day Pomel, the second reality, was created by Kazimir Fintou (or Dievas), the Night Guard was established to control the movement between the two realities. 23 was the head of this organisation cause it was loyal to gods as a saraph, had the ability to see when someone is affected by Distortion and could punish those who violated the contract between Invure (the oldest god after Enmaru's death) and Dievas. And again 23 needed to change their appearance to look less intimidating to rare humans accidently getting into the Night Pomel.

Once the Night Guard arrested someone called Witimur Forvardo. It was a man who turned himself into an immortal monster and performed a murder of a village with about 50 citizens. 23 usually dealt with spirits who lost their mind because of Distortion. So the human affected by Distortion was something new to them. Other problem was that Witimur was indestructible even for 23. The following events shew that Witimur left notes someone on Pomel started using for creating things similar to Witimur.

23 tried to investigate that case and something was off. They went to the second reality too often. But the case was becoming more and more weird so 23 decided to let Witimur help in solving it. And 23 let Witimur go. Even though after this Witimur didn't kill anyone, Invure gathered a meeting with other ancient gods to judge if 23 was acting under the affect of Distortion. They decided that even if 23 didn't act because of Distortion, it is poisoned by it quite enough, so it needs to reset the saraph's settings. And it was the first time 23 felt something. They wanted to solve the case. So they didn't want their memory to be erased. They asked Invure to seal their power of destruction so if they would be completely distorted they could not harm the universe. Invure agreed on this terms and 23 left the Night Pomel.

23 spent 70 years in the human world. Even though they didn't have their ego in their past life the speed of human world was too fast for someone who existed for 132 millions of years. Another problem was that 23's vision wasn't made for the second reality so they could see only silhouettes of things around them. Most of these 70 years 23 spent on the witch base, helping them to make the plan on defeating Dievas and to communicate to the first reality. Even though witches could help 23 to manage Distortion, it was slowly consuming them. So after the fall of Dievas 23 almost never left the bathtube with alchemic concentrate.

And then someone found out that there's something on pomel that reminds the remainings of an ancient god but they weren't Enmaru and it's weirdly to active. 23 knew it should be Witsichillinoah, the god they once killed. Saraph felt guilt because of murder of their creator even though they were just an instrument of ancient gods. So 23 started searching for the remainings of Witslie. In the process they met Nina, who accidently got involved in this story. 23 never thought that a human would be so useful in their adventure (since Nina had a normal human vision she could get 23 where they needed)

The time was running. 23 met what remained of Witslie few times. Surprisingly, ego of the god was still alive. But something was happening to the world around. The Distortion was becoming stronger and though 23 thought they had few years more, it affected them too much and the saraph couldn't keep their human appearance anymore. Nina refused to leave 23 even though it was dangerous to stay near them.

The next part isn't written well yet. But these two managed to get rid of Distortion and in the process 23 couldn't survive in the form of distorted being from first reality.

So they got turned into a human. I guess they kept the name Twenty Three, but it would be funny if they would choose something like Steve or Lily (or the pomelian equivalent). Well, in any case, they're gonna have the greatest 60 or something years of human life. Twenty Three's sight wasn't formed normally and they see only the colorful areas around them. But they found out they don't like the black color. So them and Nina needed to find a lot of new clothes, cause their previous wardrobe was full of identical black costumes and blue sweaters (also Twenty Three got a bunch of tinted glasses of all colors cause they are funny to look through).

Well. That's all. Uphh. It was easier to draw the pictures than writing this post. I didn't tell a lot of details but i hope you could understand this mess, 23 is one of the most important figures in stories about pomel. Without them the plot would not be the same (lol they literally left a mark on Pomel surface). So there's a lot of more information about them left.

So. if you like it, reblog, if you can. I really put a lot of effort in this little project.

ah yeah. here there are all of them lol

[darkintrinsic]

Devil's Night | Bad Omens

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

One day I woke up and wanted to be chased to the sound of Milagre.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X Female!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. It's devil's night and you've been invited to play. If you don't get caught by them, you win..

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). Foul language, alcohol consumption, masked men, stalking, reverse harem, why choose, taking turns, explicit sex, fear games, submission.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Devil’s Night.

The first time she heard those words, thought it was just another excuse for parties and excess, but here, in Detroit, it’s different. People speak of this night as if it were a tradition, passed down from generation to generation, almost like a silent pact that no one dares to question.

Yes, it’s Halloween Eve, but it carries a taste of danger that goes beyond costumes and carved pumpkins. It’s not about trick-or-treating; it’s more like… a rite of passage, where each person lets their dark side surface, testing their own limits and those of others. And the entire city, somehow, agrees to turn a blind eye to what happens in the shadows.

In the alleys and empty hallways, you can feel something waiting, hidden between the walls and beneath the fog that stubbornly refuses to lift. The seniors, of course, love it. They create challenges, make absurd promises to the freshmen, as if they’re initiating them into some ancient secret. But it’s not a secret; it’s more like a warning.

I don’t know exactly who started it—maybe some group many years ago, looking for a way to release their frustrations, or perhaps the city already came with this curse built in. But, either way, everyone participates, whether in the role of the observers or those who get lost in the night.

You were about to leave home, dressed up for another Devil’s Night in Detroit. Your friends had invited you over to drink a little before heading to the Lions' party, the fraternity responsible for the highest concentration of players that night. At first, you were ready to turn down the invitation, wanting to go straight to the celebration and get it over with once and for all, but seeing the flyer advertising the Geordin’s pub attraction made you change your mind.

Bad Omens was the main act in an intimate show, and you felt a bit excited to know they were back in town. It had been a while since you last saw them—if you weren’t mistaken, on the last Devil’s Night.

"Don’t tell me you’re not even a little excited to see him again…" Ash nudged your ribs with a playful voice, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"They’ve grown so much since the last time I saw them, Ash. They definitely have no idea who I am."

"And what if I told you that’s not exactly true?" Ashley’s glittering eyes blinked behind her long lashes as if she had some valuable information. She rested her hands and phone under her chin while watching you finish getting ready in the mirror. "I messaged Steve; we chat sometimes, and when he told me he’d be in town, I didn’t fail to mention your name…"

"I can’t believe you did that!"

"I scored us four VIPs tonight thanks to my shamelessness. No need to thank me, babe!" Ash winked and blew a kiss at her own shoulder, ignoring when you rolled your eyes at her boldness.

You didn’t want to admit it, but a strange sensation was building up in your stomach, making you feel cold with every step you took out the door. According to your friends, you looked good enough to draw a crowd to your feet, and deep down, you hoped they were right.

Geordin’s was, as always, sweltering, packed, and filled with people dressed up in Halloween costumes. You were just in a short black dress and heavy makeup—this date was special, a night for vixens to leave their homes in their smallest outfits, best heels, and bold eyes to be, for one night, what they longed to be all year.

At the bar, you grabbed a drink and walked with your friends to the VIP area near the stage. With each minute closer to the performance, your stomach grew colder, while your friends chatted excitedly beside you, never quieting for a moment. It had been a long time since you last saw him, and you tried your best not to expect him to remember any fragment of the past Devil’s Night.

“Welcome to the show of bad omens, my friends,” said the recorded voice from the speakers, making the crowd go wild.

The lights went out, and your body froze in place as the intro to the first song began. His voice was still unmistakable and unique, pleasing to the ear, even live, weaving together with the guitar and drum solos as if they were one.

When you turned to the stage, Noah was gripping the microphone with his eyes closed, and you allowed yourself to take in the melody, singing along with all your heart as you remembered why this was your favorite band. At the end of the third song, he glanced over the crowd as if looking for something, seeming about to give up, until his eyes finally landed on you.

A jolt of electricity surged from your legs, coursing through your entire body. Noah gave a brief smile and bowed his head, waiting for the next song’s intro. You knew the setlist, and this wasn’t one of the songs played at previous shows. In fact, you recognized it instantly; it was your favorite track.

Careful What You Wish For hadn’t been played in recent shows, but he knew how much that song meant to you, and he’d included it in Detroit just to show that he did, indeed, remember you. Something damp threatened to pool in your tear ducts; this song reminded you of moments you’d rather forget, moments the band had made more bearable to face.

As the final song ended, the lights went out, and the guys left the stage to the applause of the crowd. Your heart was still racing from the mix of emotions caused not only by the show, but by the series of subtle glances he had thrown your way during the pauses between songs. You bit your lip gently, gripping your glass a bit tighter, wondering if it could be a sign.

But you quickly brushed off that foolish thought and shook your head, dismissing it.

You and your friends finally arrived at the fraternity party, and all of you, including yourself, were buzzing with excitement to start the real celebration. Everyone was in costume, music was blasting, the smell of marijuana filled the air, and alcohol was flowing freely.

It seemed like the perfect night.

“I wouldn’t recommend drinking too much,” Ash warned, pointing at your glass as you sipped the colorful drink through a straw. “The games start in a few minutes, and you won’t want to be throwing up during the hunt.”

You laughed, remembering what happened last year when you mixed a few drinks with cheesy snacks, resulting in a puddle of vomit that took you home before you even considered playing the traditional hunt.

Every year on Devil’s Night, the Lions held a hunt in the Shadow Woods. The game involved all the guests being released into the forest, blindly searching to capture as many targets as they could until they reached the other side. With no flashlights or any source of light, identifying anyone became nearly impossible as everyone wore masks to hide their faces.

A certain chill lingered in your stomach, and a tremor in your legs threatened to shake your confidence, but you preferred to think it was because of the drink, not the fear of who your potential hunter might be. Your mind raced through quick strategies to avoid being caught, though not knowing the Shadow Woods at night made it all the more difficult.

With your feet firm on the earthy ground, you were as ready as the other competitors. You looked around, feeling adrenaline pulse through your veins, filling your brain like a song made to build tension until reaching its peak. You felt ready for whatever the night had to offer.

The whistle blew.

Your legs pushed you forward, running as fast as you could, straining your vision to dodge trees and jump over branches. You listened closely to the sound of dry leaves and twigs that snapped underfoot as the predators ran. All of them were desperate, hungry in their hunt for prey. At the same time, it felt frightening; it was exhilarating enough to make you push for more speed.

Energized, you glanced over your shoulder now and then, trying to detect any approaching threat, but as you pressed on, you heard fewer footsteps. Breathless, you slowed down and marked the trees with your fingers as you continued to walk carefully.

Your steps froze in place when you suddenly heard heavy breathing. The footsteps behind you moved over the dry leaves, signaling that your hunter was approaching stealthily, like a snake. Slowly, you realized your feet didn’t obey the commands in your head—they wanted to keep running, but your body remained there, unmoving.

He knew there was no point in running. He knew you were lost. He knew you didn’t want to go anywhere.

“Good girl.” His voice whispered close to your ear, making you jump in shock. “You didn’t let anyone else catch you. You waited for us like a good girl.”

“She knew that no matter where she hid tonight, we’d find her.”

“We always find you…”

Through your peripheral vision, you counted all four of them, gathered in balaclavas, closing off any way out. Swallowing dryly, you felt your breathing falter as they each took a step closer, forming a claustrophobic barrier around you.

“Now you’re ours.” Noah’s voice echoed in your ear as you felt the fabric of his balaclava graze your cheek. “Once you lose the game, you become our prize.”

A brief jolt made you sit upright when you felt something wrapping around your wrists; he was tying your hands together with a rope. The remaining length of material was used to fasten another knot around your neck, this time slightly tighter.

In your mind, there was no room for doubt, because you remembered the main rule of Devil’s Night. You were free to make your desires real for one night.

Why not surrender to them?

Slowly, Noah pulled you along the length of the leash, and stumbling a little in your own steps, you followed him. He exuded a scent of sweat mixed with Savage cologne; his arms were exposed by the black tank top, and he wore cargo pants and boots. Each determined step he took made you tense up, fearing what was to come, and the walls in the form of men surrounding you added to your apprehension.

Your steps halted when the tall man pulling your collar from the front froze in place. The forest offered little light, and thanks to the moonlight filtering through the gaps in the trees, you could see the intricate tattoo designs on his back, partly covered by his tank top.

A breath, subtle but present, brushed your ears with warm breath from behind.

"How about a game?" Folio’s voice was so soft it seemed to dance at a unique frequency. "We’ll ask a question, and for each wrong answer, you lose a piece of clothing."

"A game is only interesting to me if both parties are involved. In that case, what do I get if I’m right?" You dared to respond, challenging him with a side glance.

"Don’t act as if you don’t like the idea of not being in control for a few hours…" Folio taunted, stepping closer with a deadly step. His body was too close this time. "All you desire is for the reins to be in someone else's hands, just for one night, someone who knows your dirty mind well enough so you don’t have to spell out what you need. Am I wrong?"

You weren’t afraid of anything and made a point to shake your head in defiance.

"Wrong answer."

"Not at all!" you contested without much conviction. Deep down, defying him and contradicting yourself with feigned reluctance was part of your game.

The cold wind touched your back just as one of their fingers slid the zipper of your dress down, exposing your bare skin. Slowly, you felt the fabric glide down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever it passed.

You shrank a little, feeling a hint of discomfort when you noticed several pairs of eyes observing your exposed form, but a tug on the leash immediately made you lift your chin.

"Don’t you dare lower your head, darling" another voice murmured as a finger traced along your chin, the wetness of a tongue brushing against the skin of your ear. "Not when you have a body like this. We can savor you without even touching. Consider yourself a goddess, displayed for adoration and worship."

Gently, he slid his hand from your chin to reach your cold-stiffened nipples, slow circular movements warming your thighs as Jolly’s voice stimulated you, his hands exploring your body without any rush.

They wanted you to surrender.

Indeed, you were already theirs.

For just one night, you belonged to them.

In front of you, Noah watched you with a tilted head, as if watching an intimate moment of pleasure was amusing to him. He wrapped the excess of the leash around his hands until it tightened, lifting your neck up toward him.

In one last visceral glance, Noah pressed his lips against yours.

A fierce kiss, charged with desire pent up since the last visit, filling every corner of your mouth, leaving you wanting for absolutely nothing. Between breaths, you let out a contained, low moan as those hands moved from your chest down to your hips.

His fingers, when they found your entrance, sent a current of electricity through the rest of your body. Jolly was warm and soft as a rose petal, he tortured you with the slowness of his synchronized movements on your clitoris and during the kiss you held Noah's lips between your teeth gasping a heavy moan.

Noah smiled, feeling how his body twitched in his friend's hands, he released his lips and dragged them down his face, allowing his moan to reverberate through his ears more clearly.

Just when you were about to give signs that you were going to collapse under Jolly's fingers they suddenly stopped. You panted and wanted to show that you were disappointed, but you didn't have time, Noah pulled you by the collar and turned you so that you were facing away from him. A quick scream escaped your lips at the surprise of the impact of your hips against his, you felt his bulge harden and let out some air through your nose.

A soft hand ran its thumb over her face, a caress similar to the one she felt on her ass as Noah explored her. At the same time they used their thumbs, Noah lifted your dress until you were completely exposed to prepare you, he dipped his fingers in your wetness and seemed to delight in it. Their eyes were fixed on the man before them, gently brushing strands of hair away from his face and lifting his chin.

“Good girl, good girl.” he whispered, sliding his thumb into your mouth, without breaking eye contact, you sucked his finger slowly until you reached the tip.

You watched as Folio grunted and finished sliding his cock into his free hand and bringing it closer to your face, passing it across your lips slowly. You moaned from containing the desire to take him in at once, and from having Noah playing with his head at your entrance in rotating movements. Little by little you relaxed and used your tongue to greet him and a smile formed on your lips when you saw him sigh once again.

Folio grabbed your hair with a little force and demonstrating that the provocation had made him lose his mind, he shoved his dick into your mouth at the same time as Noah entered you. Your screams were silenced by Folio's cock, you used your tongue to drool all over the compliment and without the help of your hands that were trapped you covered his head with the roof of your mouth. As you sucked him, you felt Noah bump his hips against yours in strong thrusts, pulling the collar from your neck each time he penetrated and stopped with his rigid member inside you.

Your legs shook from the force he used, you pressed him against the walls of your pussy and heard him mutter yet another curse due to the lack of space. Her head didn't stop for a single second, going down and up, sucking Folio's cock while he helped her with his hand in her hair.

With each of Noah's thrusts, you felt Folio's cock tear into your throat and you dedicated yourself to not leaving a single space without the contact of your tongue. He pressed your head down more and you enjoyed the taste of the skin trying to contain the entire volume. Noah grew harder and harder inside you and in an explosion of sensations for a few seconds your legs seemed to float.

This was the effect of the devil’s night.

It allowed you to fulfill even your darkest fantasy.

For one night.

[starlightsuffered]

Forbidden (p1)

Info - forbidden love, trickery, accusations, getting caught having sex, unprotected sex, mentions of masturbation and oral, sex on a horse, cream pie, cock warming, mentions of injury, murder, cheating

"I'm so glad your family is visiting," I gasped into his mouth. I was riding his cock in my room.

"I love you so much, you don't know how I've missed you," Hal muttered into my ear.

"Darling, I can barely focus without you around. I hate this," I said as he slowly rutted his large cock inside me. I remembered how we started all this.

It had been three years ago, and he'd caught me in a spare room, touching myself. I'd been horrified to be caught. I thought he'd call me a whore, or degrade me for doing such a thing as a Princess, but instead he'd come to me and bent down.

"Next time you feel this way, call on me," he'd said before giving me the best head I'd ever experience. Sure it had started out as a pleasure thing, but as it continued we'd fallen for one another. When I'd been injured falling from my horse, he'd visited immediately to "pay his respects" but really he told me he loved me. He'd gently made love to me, so as not to hurt me.

I remembered how he'd cried to me the night my engagement to Lord Appelion had been announced. He'd begged and begged me to run away with him, but we both knew how badly our countries needed us. We couldn't do it. So now it was letters and hook ups. We were blessed that our countries were close.

"Just focus on me for now. How do I feel? I've been out of practice, with only my hand for so long," he said sadly. Whenever he reminded me of his loyalty to me, my heart soared. It was never something I had asked of him. I wouldn't have denied him the right to pleasure. However, he was loyal.

"I just adore how you feel. You stretch me out so damn well. I love that you marked me, you don't usually let yourself do that," I said as I lovingly brushed the purple spot on my chest.

"Because after I fill you to the brim with cum, I'm going to tell your father who I am marrying," he growled.

"No need to alert me," came a dark voice.

"Father," I said worriedly.

"You are engaged!" He roared.

"But I love Hal. Hal is a king, much better than a lord. Can't I marry him instead?" I asked. Hal was grabbing a blanket to cover my body. I wrapped it around myself so I could go to my father.

"Please," I begged, touching his bearded face.

"We're kicking him out immediately! You are forbidden to see him!"

"No! No!" I cried as guards entered the room. Man handling Hal.

"I'll come back for you my love, you have not seen the last of me," he cried. I wept on the floor and my father left me there.

We wrote to one another in secret. I used a fake name for him. I called him Timothy. He told me he would find a way to marry me. I told him it was hopeless. I was going crazy without him all my days were dark and grey. I missed my Hal.

"Your highness, we couldn't stop him!" Said one guard. "He was actually killing us."

Hal came in disheveled and bloody. He held a long sword out in front of him. He often said he loved how I didn't cower away from his angry side.

"By order of the royal Court of England, I am taking y/n as my wife," He announced. Only the king knew we'd been a couple. To everyone else this must be odd. I think Hal was betting on that, the publicity of the moment. The King wouldn't want to disappoint his people.

"You cannot order that!" Spat my father.

"I can, because your daughter has stolen something from me, it is why I cant be faulted for charging into this room!"

"She hasn't stolen anything!"

Hal stalked to me, a foreign ferocity in his eyes. His eyes were always soft when he looked at me. He was a good actor. He grabbed my hand harshly and yanked down my sleeve. On my hand was a glittering ring he'd given me the day he'd confessed his love. It was Unmistakably English and expensive.

"She stole this, and it is much more valuable than her, but I'll take her in trade," he said loudly. He squeezed my wrist gently, to let me know he didn't mean what he was screaming.

My father was in a hard place. Either he reveal I had cheated on my fiancée and make the people think I was a whore, or he would have to give in to Hal's request.

"Take her then you malevolent scoundrel!" He snapped. Hal Escorted me from the room harshly. When we were alone on his horse he finally was himself.

"You're brilliant Hal," I said, leaning back into him as we rode.

"I'm just so happy to see you," he kissed my neck. "I had an idea on the way over here. Why don't you sit on my cock as we ride love."

We stopped the horse and he got out his cock. I lifted my skirts and he was soon nestled inside me. We began to ride again and the movement of the horse provided much pleasure. By the time we reached his castle we'd both cum many many times. We entered into our new life of love, as the castle doors shut.

[deskraven]

(Below are some personal thoughts on Nightshade and queer representation. OG poster I have nothing against you and this is not an attempt to persuade you into liking Nightshade. Your feelings are valid and I understand where you are coming from.)

Nightshade is an icon to me in Season 1. I always joke about "fox news is not wrong that Nightshade is trans-ing people" - they are a key factor I started using nonbinary pronouns in real life. So sure, my opinion on them is biased - there might be too much insertion and projection involved and I'm looking at them through rose-colored glasses.

So let's start with facts instead:

"The character's very existence is unnecessary" is a very subjective statement. There is a thread on Twitter that asked "(Without saying its woke) What's your reason for disliking Earthspark?" While many pointed out that there are too many Terrans and only 2-3 of them are well developed / interesting, the 2-3 they listed are very diverse among the comments! The following are all direct quotes:

I never found most of the kids/terrans entertaining (except for Nightshade and Jawbreaker)

... only Nightshade and Hashtag are interesting, the rest have the personality of a piece of cardboard.

A few of the Terrans feel underdeveloped, Thrash and Hashtag feel like nothing characters compared to Twitch, Jawbreaker, and Nightshade.

the Terrans don’t really stand out from one another in terms of personalities except for maybe Hashtag and Twitch.

The other terrans that are not twitch and thrash are really boring and lame

All of these are valid statements. I'm not accusing the original poster to be mistaking a subjective feeling as a factual statement - they very well clarified that this is their own personal feelings and acknowledged that Nightshade is a popular character. I just want to use the opportunity to show how diverse people's feelings can be.

I also don't think Nightshade "solely exists to make a statement".

If so, people who didn't even hear their statement should be really confused what the character is even here for. We do have such a group of people - in the Japanese dub, Nightshade's nonbinary identity wasn't revealed until their conversation with Sam. I'm not Japanese so I can't say for sure, but there were a lot of Japanese fanart about them prior to "Home" being aired in Japan. It seems that they are well-liked.

Now my opinions:

Nightshade has a very tasteful introduction and implementation. I see the "came flying in to throw all sorts of people into a tizzy" as part of their personality - which I cherish. I also see the "forced, self righteous, and more than a little annoying at times" as part of their personality, which I cherish even more because it reminds me of many queer neurodivergent friends of mine.

But Nightshade doesn't just appeal to queer people. A friend of mine adores them for a very specific line they said, "You've just proven you don't really know me - because I was never lost!" She's a cishet Chinese woman who doesn't know much about US queer culture, but she remembers saying something similar to her parents.

But even if they really are just a tasteless boring character who exists for the sake of representation, I wouldn't say they shouldn't be there either. I would sure be angry - a year ago I was enraged by the portrayal of Lake Ripple (Elementals) because this nonbinary character really literally serves no purpose. It is frustrating when there's finally a nonbinary character on big screen yet they are just a soulless background cardboard. But most of Lake's cisgender relatives are also background cardboards, yet no one would say they shouldn't exist in the first place. Imagine if all it takes to make a character's mediocracy tolerable is to remove their minority identity - it's unfair.

Anyways I like Nightshade very much they are the second perfect transformer character imo ^ ^ It's a pity they got shafted in S2 and S3 but they will forever live rent free in my heart and I unironically love how you described them as "self righteous and more than a little annoying at times" and "came flying in to throw all sorts of people into a tizzy". These are the reasons I love them and I couldn't have put it any better.

I can never change your dislike for Nightshade. But have you considered that Nick basically reduced their role in the show because of all the controversy? It's harsh to think that they shouldn't be there. This show has studio interference written all over it.

Today is the die I become hated.

Le sigh.

I recognize that studios have their money hungry fingers all over everything, but that does not change what Nightshade, and other similar characters, represent. I think Nightshade's very existence is unnecessary. Even without the controversy, the character is just kind of there for no real reason other than making a statement. For me, Nightshade feels a great deal like the ridiculous arrogance of Elita-One in Transformers One.

Both characters are there to leave a message, one that could be good if done correctly. But due to its implementation, it comes off as forced, self righteous, and more than a little annoying at times. Elita was an attempt to represent girl power that went sideways by making her worse as a person. Nightshade was a studio's shot at reaching more diverse audiences that just came off as out of the blue and tasteless. Nightshade has very little purpose, even before people got upset, my point remains. Additionally, the character is largely there for diversity rather than actual functionality in the show.

For all I care, your character could be named Squishy von Veek and could go by screams of the damned as pronouns, so long as said character is USEFUL to the story and makes sense in the lore. Nightshade sadly does not check any of these boxes for me, at least not in initial implementation. There was no lore groundwork, no tasteful introduction. It just happened and Nightshade came flying in to throw all sorts of people into a tizzy.

I will admit though, the design and name for Nightshade rock.

[twistedhypersonicnavigator]

Bullying

For those who are unaware. Last year (under my old account NoraMutaoFrost) I was bullied because I shared an image from someone who did 'blankshipping' art. I did not know they did, because I didn't go looking for that specific tag. Someone else shared it, so it ended up on my feed.

Apparently sharing someones art who did blankshipping art was a big no no and I got my name put onto a 'block'/'blankshipping' list where my over 700 followers went from 700 to 300 overnight. I mean that literally. I donno where this list was or who made it, I was told this by one of my followers.

After this I kept getting messages/asks/DMs about how a broken person I was, or how gross I was going liking blankshipping. Regardless of how many times I told them that I didn't like blankshipping.

Now keep in mind that I am completely indifferent to the actual blankshipping. I don't look for it, I don't write it, and I have that tag blocked because I don't like seeing porn in general. So I tend to avoid it.

So after giving up all together and stopped writing everything I was writing at that time with Submas, left all the submas servers I was in, and hiding under a rug for a few months I finally decided to delete my account and start fresh. Maybe the bully's won't find me.

I'm a really shy person in general and I don't do to well with confrontation, I tend to stick to myself, and I don't have may friends on here that talk to me often enough to check up on me when I'm to quiet.

Anxiety and depression are bad.

Sorry for venting, I just wanted to get this out in the open so people know.