#really threw me let me tell you

[mintmentos]

If I had a nickel for every time there was a sci fi series with a Hera and a Pryce I’d have 2 nickels

[sysig]

Spoiling for a fight, spoiled for choice (Patreon)

[ratatatastic]

congrats to mr maffhew for actually getting it down straight the plate this time!! mr. hitter they did not let me pitch is learning! bit of an airmail but baby i promise you someone in this league is swinging at that!!

[ourladyoftheflytrap]

My mom always complaining about how I never spend time with her.... ma'am the last time we had a serious conversation you told me you thought i was making traumatic memories of my childhood up just to demonize you

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

ok so today my parents were like "hey we're short on volunteers at soup kitchen can you help" and me and my sister we're like 'yeah sure' cause yeah why not

so we go to soup kitchen and it's a million degrees because it's Australia and it's summer and we can't turn the fans on so everyone's super hot. we start setting up (pulling out chairs, setting the tables, defrosting the soups, etc.) when suddenly I feel, like, abdominal pain

and I think that's probably fine cause I'm on my period and also I'm not great at body signals so I probably just need to go to the bathroom. so I start walking to grab my bag and in the time it takes to cross a room I feel really bad. like 'my-skull-is-too-thick,-my-skin-is-melting,-I-can't-breathe-properly,-and-my-bones-have-turned-to-moss' kinda bad

so I'm crouching on the floor of this church kitchen and it's suddenly occurring to me that this is a very serious problem maybe. so between hyperventilating (which I'm vaguely aware I shouldn't be doing but also I literally couldnt care less rn) I start calling to my dad and saying that I feel bad (apparently my dad was in middle of straining some incredibly hot pasta and this was pretty stressful for him)

and by this time I'm lying on the floor of this actually quite dirty church kitchen and basically all logical thought is gone and I'm aware of nothing aside from how incredibly hot I am and this lady getting me a pot in case I throw up. and my dad says "you can't lie down here" and he and some others help me get to my feet and before we leave I grab my bag because in my I head I still just need to go to the bathroom or something

so I'm led out of the kitchen and into the hall by the hand by a girl who I've met exactly twice and there are homeless people around but I'm totally unaware of them and my head feels bad and if feels like my skin has started evaporating into the air so I'm some vaguely human shaped cloud and we're at the door to leave the hall

and then I'm on the bench outside, hearing my Mum say "call triple zero" which is pretty concerning because that's the emergency number you only call if someone is maybe dying and I honestly think that shocked me into waking up

I open my eyes and suddenly I'm convinced I've made the whole thing up (I tell a lot of stories in my head and this would not be the first one where I have some sort of medical emergency) because there's no way I actually collapsed on the floor of the church kitchen. that's stupid and weird and there's no way that happened

and I ask what's going on and also where I am because despite this being my church that I've been going to for literal decades I just don't remember getting to this bench outside. and now that I'm awake, I feel really lucid and my mom says not to call triple zero cause i seem ok

anyway I apparently passed out for a few seconds and also stopped breathing and locked my jaw and my lips turned blue. so that's pretty bad. but I got some icy poles and watched epic the musical animatics after so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it could be worse

[random0lover]

I hate men and their need to act like any emotional reactions you have while you’re on your period is just you being “hormonal” and “not yourself”

(Rant in tags)

[too-many-paper-cranes]

oh hey the video is public now so i can post on tumblr about this without sounding insane! anyway everyone should go watch me and a few other speedrunners hunt fire for sport (randomizer edition)

[wornkindness]

despite the fact work has been a little busier, the work place environment has been 32985934875 times better since my awful co worker left

[arsenicflame]

not my best work but i edited together these two images to try and get the best version of this avac lady loki art <3

[fardf150]

fuck

[spaciebabie]

What's the storyline for your ocs?

nerdy straight A middle school student katherine quin and her pals realize that their government sucks ass and b/c they are impassioned naive youth, entangle themselves in a state of affairs that will stay w/them for the rest of their lives

more under the cut b/c i wrote a lot more than i thought i would kasfjksdfjksfj (i have big feelings abt this story)

i (officially) made the story when i was 14! all the characters are based off me and my experience 2 some extent (especially katherine i mean i made her bi, biracial, gave her a mole, made her like indie games etc). originally the story was going 2 have a happy ending, but as ive grown i have more of an appreciation for....well endings that are not so happy. im thinking i change it. it would make sense w/what happens in it anyway (the story of revolution is not as happy and triumphant as 11 year old me imagined when i first acted this out w/my brother. honestly like ive changed the story entirely 2 be my own but i still gotta thank my bro cuz the orig storyline that inspired it when we played legos 2gether was a conjoined effort and i borrowed many of the characters)! as im drafting it now, the story is not particularly happy lol

the story tells a sort of generational loop that katherine goes thru? if that makes sense? i wont go too much in depth b/c spoilers but its a story of history repeating itself again and again and the endless loops pain and suffering cause and how people are scared/too comfortable/too angry to change the cycle. i think that katherine being a history nerd in the midst of watching history unfold again before her very eyes grants her a certain point of view other characters dont have (except a few who have lived experiences). although this awareness will come later in the story when she's older

it will also touch on something young folks feel 2day where ppl frequently ask, "why is this happening today? havent we progressed?" and katherine will ponder that herself (although the situations that happen in the story are strictly to the story ajsfsjfd i cant talk abt and link real life tragedies it would be too much for me). and i think that as she gets older in the story and gains knowledge and wisdom from what she goes thru, she'll hafta bear this horrifying knowledge that the sands of time dont just erode the past, but the present and future as well.

i was not expecting 2 write this much KJSFKJSDJFKSJDF

anyway! i care this story a lot. its like my childhood and has grown with me as ive aged. im really compelled to make it the best it can be and i get a lot of imposter syndrome b/c i know the ideas i have and the story itself as a whole is good, but im worried my execution will fall flat. idk its kept me from moving forward w/it or talking abt it for years.

tldr; two can basically be summed up by this image:

are things going 2 get better? can they get better? questions i think about as i write and think thru this story.

[malachitezmeyka]

I. JUST. finished that stupid wisp collecting quest in PL:A and my brain will need 3 to 5 business days to recover

[is-not-a-bell]

Sleepy King

The Justice League Dark caught wind of a cult trying to summon the Ghost King. A being with power so terrible and great, that all of the chaotic Infinite Realms feared him. A true tyrant. Long ago it took the effort of ghosts equal to gods to seal him away into a permeant slumber.

And now this cult wishes to wake him and bring him to the living realm. It was a race against the clock to find the ritual site and all members were called on board, magic or not. Even Constantine looked stressed.

They did find the site.

But it was too late, the ritual was completed. The entire inner circle of runes glowed before being swallowed in a column of green light. The air filled with static and a ringing that made Supergirl crumble to the ground.

The light dissipated, but there was no great figure or being of pure evil. Instead there was a boy, a teenager. He laid on the ground curled up in his sleep. He was a ghost no doubt, dressed in regal clothing.

Despite this when he stirred, everyone froze. It seemed the cold hard ground woke him up. He got up slowly and yawned, revealing his sharp fangs. Once sat up he opened his bleary eyes to look around. He looked confused and tired, really tired.

"Where am I?" He mumbled. "I was trying to get some sleep." Constantine internally screaming, latches onto that last sentence. He glances over to Batman. He caught that last part too. Batman approaches calmly and crouches down in front of the boy king. Hardening his resolve, Batman takes on a gentle tone.

"Hey kiddo, sorry we woke you. Lets get you back to bed yeah?" The boy nodded in agreement. He pulled himself to his feet before looking around in a circle. "Where did my blanket go?" He asked rather sadly. Batman is quick to shed his own cape and drape it over him. "You can borrow my cape until we get you a new one." He nodded again, pulling the black fabric around himself.

John quickly summoned a portal door, while Batman led the King through it. John threw looks around at everyone. Everyone could tell he was mouthing the words. 'Find me a fucking blanket now'

Running on the logic of getting the king away from Earth, away from graves and the undead, that could give him power. The portal led to the Watch Tower.

Batman took advantage of the King's bleary state to send a base wide alert for all noncritical members to evacuate immediately. With a priority that death adjacent members leave first. "The stars are pretty." Bruce looked at the boy staring out the window in wonder. He almost looked like a normal kid, almost.

"Yeah they are, it's pretty late so we should get you back to bed." He nodded, going along with Batman's gentle coaxing.

He takes the boy to an unused bedroom. Making sure the room isn't dusty and that lights are dimmed. He glances back to see about a dozen different leaguers all holding blankets, one thought to bring extra pillows. The bed was pretty barren with only a single pillow and a thin bedsheet. So Bruce took a thick duvet, one of the fluffier blankets and a second pillow from his team before shooing them away.

The boy ended up keeping his cape, mumbling how it was warm. He tucked the boy in, before quietly exiting the room and turning off the light. He was pretty sure the King fell back to sleep before he even reached the light switch.

After the door shut, he made direct eye contact with John. "Constantine." They needed to figure out what the hell was going on.

[citrus-writing]

surrender to me

Thinking about how utterly humiliating it'd be to be forced to ride your yandere-

Tw: non-con, dub-con, extreme feelings of guilt and shame, reader is an active participant in their own assault 

--------------------------------------- 

It's bad enough when he pins you down to whatever surface is nearby, taking whatever he wants from you, forcing you to take whatever he gives you. It's bad enough that you're helpless to his advances, that he can so easily overpower you, use you like his own personal toy. It's bad enough that he fucks you so good, hitting that spot that has you nearly screaming, keeping up the relentless pace until your legs shake, and making sure you always cum at least once, though he always always tries for more.

It's worse when he pulls you on top of him. At least when you're underneath him you can say it's not your fault, that you have no hand in what happens to you.

But now, as you straddle his waist, his cock buried deep inside you, he tells you to "ride me, come on, just the way you like it" you feel shame wash over you. He's your kidnapper, he took everything from you, and now he wants you to be an active participant in your torment. Everything in your rebels against the idea, tells you to fight it, to hold onto your pride at any and all costs. But it's not like you have a choice, you know what disobeying him means- you've faced too many punishments to risk another.

Shame eats at you as you begin to move, hesitant and humiliated, but unwilling to disobey. You rock your hips, trying not to shutter with every drag of his length along your walls. You're so wet for him and you know he can tell. You close your eyes, you don't want to see the way he's looking at you, can't bare to see the adoration in his eyes when you fuck yourself on his cock and he can't help but whisper that you're "such a good girl for me".

You hate that it feels good, that even your leisurely pace is making you bite back moans and fight the urge to ride him harder, to make yourself cum, and to feel him cum too. He grabs your hips, guiding you to pick up the pace a little, and you curse that he knows exactly what you like. He knows just how to guide your movements to make you tremble and whimper as he fucks you, he knows exactly what will have you moaning and gushing around him. He knows exactly how to make you his perfect little whore.

It's too much- the absolute misery of the situation is more than you can bear. You're riding your kidnapper, moaning and crying out for him, feeling your orgasm creep up on you too fast. It’s humiliating in a way that nothing else can compare to, nothing he’s ever done to you has been quite so potently horrid. 

You can't tell if he's still forcing your hips into the rhythm or if you've given into it, can't really tell if he's thrusting up into you or if your just bouncing on his cock that hard- but you're so close, and he feels so good inside you, and you want to cum so bad. You should be fighting this, but you’re not. You’re rocking your hips against his and whining his name and begging for more. 

"Gonna cum?" He asks, voice a little bit teasing but mostly breathless at the way you move above him and the way you feel around him. He tells you all the time that he loves you, that you belong to him, that he’d do anything to keep you all to himself. In moments like this, it’s easy to believe that. You nod, desperate for release. "Go on, then,” he encourages, moving his hips against yours to meet you halfway as you move. 

You do- with a desperate cry of his name you feel your orgasm wash over you, crashing down on you and you can think of nothing else but his length filling you up, hitting so deep inside you and stretching you out so wide. It's so dirty; knowing you threw away all your morality and pride for this- you let yourself be used by man you should hate just so you could get off, you practically begged him for it. 

Because no matter how your mind tries to convince itself this isn't what you want, your body knows this is exactly what you want. 

---------------------------

[lizardho]

I came out to my dad as bisexual at 14 and I was PANICKED because I had a crush on a guy in my Boy Scout troop and thought I was Going To Hell Forever and he was so kind and understanding of my distress, but he had NO idea what bisexuality was. He just said “yeah but you like girls too? This is normal. Everyone is like this.” And I love my dad and trust him with my life to this day and the idea that the concept of bisexuality had not occurred to him had not occurred to me so I put it off.

By 16 though I had a crush on like THREE boys. Three entire boys in my Boy Scout troop. I felt like my sin was slowly advancing, until like an untreated cancer it had become metastatic. I remember bawling my L’il limp-wristed sissy eyes out in his big rumbly truck on the way home from a scout meeting and him telling me that it was OK, that he still loved me if I was gay, but that he knew I wasn’t gay because I still had crushes on women and that meant I was straight. I didn’t quite know how to explain that those felt *~*different*~* and that I felt like I was losing a fight to evil inside me but I again felt comforted by his reassurances and his genuine fatherly love.

At 18 I was like “hey I’m realizing all my friends are going on missions. I don’t wanna do that. Idk how to say that and I don’t have a ‘good enough’ reason to not wanna go.” So I just put it off. Again, my parents were extremely supportive of the information I gave them (I blamed it on perpetually forgetting to start the paperwork.) and one day my mom texted me that she had done the paperwork for me! And that all I needed was to get a physical! So I did that (it was awkward af tbh, my hernia check was done by a trainee doctor and she spent like 3 minutes fishing around my inguinal canals before her attending rescued me) and was sent to Mexico City where I learned that in addition to dipshit himbos with strong hands and scruffy guys with artistic hearts I was REALLY into chubby Latin men with strong personalities who bullied me a little when I lived in Mexico.

I remember my first companion got annoyed with me during an argument and said we were just gonna wrestle and whoever won the wrestling match won the argument (I stg I am dead serious this happened.) I was like…SWEATING when he tore off his tie and threw his white button-down shirt onto the ground (I won btw, don’t ask me how).

I remember one of my companions with this really intense, almost manic energy telling me that he was gonna make sure I was safe in a new area I didn’t know very well. He cooked breakfast for me and we’d go shopping together on P-Days and in the mornings before breakfast he’d jog around and do pull-ups with his shirt off and I’d do anything but look at him because my face would break out in a sweat so intense he’d think I was crying and come over to see if I was OK and somehow make it worse. He let me play D&D with myself in the evenings even though it was against mission rules because he knew how lonely and stressed I was.

I remember one of my companions was a big chubby man with a loud voice and a great sense of humor. He was kind and direct when addressing conflicts with me, and always bragged about how he knew the secrets of women’s minds and it felt like he really did since it almost always boiled down to “Treat Them Like People and Love Them a Lot. Don’t Stop Being A Person For Them. Also Eat Them Out Sloppy Style.” Our P-Day activities sometimes felt like dates, and it seemed like he was more attentive to my emotional state than I was since he was always the first to suggest we slow down our Divinely Mandated, God-Ordained, Super Sacred Work and Wonder to get a snack or check out a Pawn Shop (I love Pawn Shops).

I remember another companion who asked me to bully him every time he did something against his goal of losing weight. It was like he gave me Carte Blanche to take out my crush on him by being a nuisance and I LOVED that. I remember having a breakdown one day after we’d spent the afternoon frantically cleaning our disgusting-barely-habitable mission house to make it look less vile that it was (not our fault imo?) and I started bawling and he pulled me into a hug and he smelled good and he told me he knew it wasn’t just the house and that I was mad at him for being a Huge Dickhead for about a week (true) and that he would work on it. (He’s also a huge chaser but that’s a separate thing.)

I remember one of my companions waking up early (and our schedule is already built for sleep deprivation) to make me a “birthday cake” from knock-off Nutella and bread. He used matches for candles and woke me up, lit the ‘candles,’ pulled them out, then smashed it in my face and took a bunch of pictures while I was still madrugada and disoriented as fuck. He had the same sense of humor as one of my HS crushes and I could push his buttons pretty easily which was so fun.

I came home from my mission and started back at BYU where I became actively and aggressively suicidal. I had a stalker the year I moved up there and my dad’s solution to that was to get me a gun. I know he wouldn’t have bought me a gun if he could have read my mind, but I had a loaded pistol under my bed during a trifecta faith/sexuality/gender crisis and that was not helpful. I remember that the day I decided to kill myself I figured I’d call the BYU CAPS and see if I could get into therapy because it felt like what I was “supposed to do” so I could check my suicide boxes. My therapist was the guy who’d helped me pick a major the year before and was this drop-dead gorgeous Hawaiian man who cried when I told him how I’d been feeling.

A few weeks into therapy I met another stunning man with soft eyes and a scruffy illegal-at-BYU beard he kept pushing his luck with. He was funny, kind, patient, married, and wouldn’t give me the time of day if he knew I was crushing on him. We were in my history of psych class, which was inarguably the worst psych class I have ever had, and we studied together for every assignment and test and I realized that my feelings for him and for all the men I’d already mentioned were in direct conflict with my faith and relationship with God. My already agonizing spiritual conflict became even more wretched and as a result of this plus some other tightly-packed experiences with Mormonisms bullshit, I left the church.

After leaving the church I decided to move back to AZ and transfer to ASU. My mom helped me get a dog since I think it had started to dawn on my family that my mental health was barely getting me through the day, and she knew that we both loved dogs. Madi made my last year at BYU livable while I got my shit together and transferred. In that last year, I went on a date with quite possibly the only semi-openly-out trans person on BYU campus. It was not a great date imo, I was not doing well, but the person I spoke with was fun and fascinating and talked to me about Gender Dysphoria and it really cemented my need to go. To leave and never come back to that fucking school.

I started at ASU a month after my last semester at BYU and within a very short time frame it felt like I was coming back together, like a puzzle magically putting itself together in an environment that wasn’t slowly draining that puzzle’s will to live.

On the 4th of July, the year I started at ASU, I saw a transition timeline photo of a gorgeous happy beautiful happy radiant happy woman and her former Mormon missionary self and I realized the light that was on in her eyes was the light that was off in mine. I looked into transitioning for 3 days, sleeping about 10 hours total during that time. I started talking to other trans people on Reddit (one of whom is now my beautiful fiancée @cintailed) and after about a month of making preparations to be disowned and kicked out, something I was not sure would happen but was ready to go through to Turn On The Lights, I came out to my family and it was amazing. I started HRT a month after that. I secretly dated some dorky guys for about a year while I applied to grad schools. I got into a great grad school for me and my needs. I got FFS. I did my trainings and classes. Me and my fiancée moved in together after some LDR shenanigans. We’ve lived together now for 4 years of basically marital bliss. We have a cat named Grandmother Esmeralda Weatherwax who bites the hell out of my feet about three times a day. My bi-cycle continues to be part of my life but now it’s not as scary. Baby gays in my life have started to look to me for advice. Idk how this all happened so fast. When the years, months, weeks, days, and hours seems to crawl by so slowly now they are rushing past me so fast it’s almost bewildering. Whereas before I felt like I was living on borrowed time, past my ‘expiration date,’ now it feels like I can Fucking Breathe. I’m training myself to slow down now and it feels worth it to Live In The Moment.

Idk why I wrote this. Idk why these thoughts only seem to come up on Sundays when I’m supposed to be writing my dissertation. Idk why I’m crying rn or why I feel so happy. I’m gonna post this shit then get on with my dissertation I guess. Read more Terry Pratchett and give yourselves the time you need. Get a pet. Talk to someone. Re-examine the events that brought you here. Be gayer. Love y’all 💕