#sent me spiraling ngl

[teddybeartoji]

Hiii Mickeyyyy 11, 45, 65, and 100 for the ask game!!! 💖

HIIIII SYAAAA:333333333 I HOPE UR DOING SOOSO GOOD MY LOVEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

11. favourite myth?

it's reaallly really basic but i do like the trojan horse myth!!!!!!!!!! i like how silly it is!!!!!!!!!! like wdym these mfs built a massive wooden horse and then made some of their men get inside it and they then proceeded to 'gift' it to their enemies lmao aND WDYM THE ENEMIES JUST TOOK IT IN TOO HASHGAHGSAHGSA

45. do you believe in fate?

i think so yes. bc i really do think that some things just are meant to be while some... aren't. like you're meant to meet some people, you're meant to be in some places and you're meant to get some things buut i guess this mentality might be a way to cope a little yk lmao? bc if something goes bad then it's not as fun to think about how it was meant to be....

idk fate is a fucked up little thing actually... like if something bad does happen and you think abt all the things you could've done differently - some other bad thing would've happened. like you can't really escape it. you might save this one person now, but then somebody else dies some time later or smth.. (though i'm not saying you shouldn't try and go against it. i would definitely try to save my love even if that meant that something way worse might happen lmao)(#devoted)

but yeah.. in the end you have to remember that fate isn't always on your side...

okok melancholy melancholy now i really wanna mention the red string of fate thing too!!!!!!!!! bc i love that. that some people are just. connected, and meant to meet. i love the thought of soulmates!!!!!!!!! i think i'm digging myself into a hole here with all the oh sometimes you get to have a soulmate bc the world loves you but then sometimes your soulmate dies bc the world actually hates you i'm gonna have a meltdown over this actually let's just say that yes i believe in fate and yes i believe in soulmates and let's ignore everything bad that might come with these two things okay<3

65. do you have a Signature Outfit™?

yes......... and it's.................. literally just black jeans and a black hoodie😭😭😭😭😭😭IT'S COMFY AND IT ALWAYS LOOKS GOOD OK!!!!!!!!!

100. do you believe in something beyond death?

mmm not really I guess... i reckon that's just kinda bc i'm not religious yk? but i'm not really opposed to the thought of it bc the thought of reuniting your loved ones in a sunny flower field does sound really fucking nice... I'M BACK HERE AFTER ANSWERING THE FATE QUESTIONNN I REALLY WANNA BELIEVE IN SOMETHING BEYOND DEATTHHHH I WANNA BE REBORN AND THEN MEET MY LOVER AGAIN IN ANOTHER LIFEEEEEEEEEEE PLEEEASEEEEEEEEE I WANNA LIVE MULTIPLE LIVES WITH THEMMM IN DIFFERENT ERAS IN DIFFERENT WORLDDDS WE WILL BE TOGETHERR FOREVERR WE WILL FIND EACH OTHERRR

interview the mayor

[seb-boo]

Winner Sebastian Vettel cradled in the arms of both his team principal, Maurizio Arrivabene, and his race engineer, Riccardo Adami ↳ 2017 Australian Grand Prix, Post-Race

[thedo0zyslider]

so this post by @/weaselishmcdiesel gave me some. ideas. happy grumbo tuesday

click below for gay people

It had started out as a simple meetup between friends, it really had. But the outcome of said meetup was defiantly more than a little friendly.

Grian had invited Mumbo over to his base, still eager to catch up with the mustached man after his return to Hermitcraft. The blonde had been buzzing with excitement since he woke up, unable to stay still for a second. He'd already had a reunion with the redstoner, and it was beautiful, but he hadn't seen his best friend in like, eight months! That was a long time, and Mumbo had yet to fill Grian in on his own adventures during those months. He'd heard plenty about what had transpired on Hermitcraft in his absence, it was time Mumbo recounted some of his own adventures.

Grian never really understood all of his friend's redstone talk, having listened to many over the years, but he'd grown to miss it. He missed Mumbo dropping by his base, ranting about whatever technical inconvinces that had fallen upon him that day while Grian listened, building as he listened to some of Mumbo's worse and most frustrated rants. It had served as bonding time for them, Mumbo learning to hand Grian whatever blocks he needed at the moment, since the taller was often ranting by his shulkers. Everything about those days had become familiar, a comforting routine that Grian had found himself longing for often in Mumbo's leave. Scar had stopped by for a few chats over the months, and he loved the brunette and his disney rants dearly, he really did, it just wasn't the same as Mumbo

He hoped, that by inviting Mumbo over, they could have one of those peaceful days again. Just with less angry ranting, and Mumbo preferably talking about the eight months away. The redstoner would probably have a few tales of how he'd been an absolute spoon, which Grian was very much looking forward too.

The two would have a different kind of meeting instead, one more passionate than peaceful. And it wasn't the angry kind of passion either.

Mumbo arrived around midday, and Grian was there to meet his friend almost immediately. Mumbo barely had time to put away his rockets before a small figure was running towards him. Grian practically ran into the other, with how fast he approached. Mumbo laughed, stumbling as he tried to keep his balance when Grian slammed into him. "HI MUMBO!" The blonde yelled, wrapping his arms around the taller's middle.

Mumbo returned his hug, arms coming to wrap around Grian's own torso. "You still miss me?" He asked through giggles, beginning to wriggle out of the embrace. Grian pouted slightly at that, but it was quickly replaced with a smile upon seeing Mumbo's face properly. His black hair was windswept from his short flight over, suit a little wrinkled and the corners if his eyes were crinkled up in joy. He looked quite nice like that, Grian had to admit. The sudden butterflies in his stomach could be thought about later, now was Mumbo time.

"Yes!" Grian squeaked, barely remembering that Mumbo had asked him something. "You were gone for eight months Mumbo, eight months! That's so long!" He turned his back to the redstoner, beginning to walk through the opening to his base. The taller followed him into his base with a few more giggles, the sound of Mumbo's laughter acting like music to the blonde's ears.

"Besides, you still haven't told me what you were up too during all those months!" Grian smirked, turning his head to look back at Mumbo. "We've told all about Hermitcraft!"

Mumbo blinked, before letting out a fond sigh. "Well, I guess that's fair." He said, seemingly preparing himself to tell quite a tale. "So..."

That was how the two spent god knows how long, just talking about whatever came to Mumbo's mind. They shifted all through Grian's base as they conversed, finally settling in a room the blonde didn't really remember building. Time became a blur, the duo enjoying some much needed time together as they sat and talked.

Grian wasn't sure how the next thing happened in hindsight. All he remembered was that he was teasing Mumbo about something he'd said, getting in the taller's personal space like he normally did. This time he'd apparently gotten too closer, now practically in Mumbo's lap where he sat.

Mumbo stared back at him somewhat awkwardly, blinking. Grian on the other hand was mortified, quickly scrambling away. He hadn't mean to make Mumbo uncomfortable and ruin the day completely.

A hand on his wrist stopped him, pulling him back. Grian looked back at Mumbo, slight confusion spreading on his face. The redstoner was looking at him, almost pleading for him to stay. Grian blinked in confusion, Mumbo moving closer. The position they'd ended up in was quite awkward, both of them shuffling into a more comfortable pose ad Mumbo wrapped him into another hug.

"Sorry about that.." Grian muttered, head gently resting on Mumbo shoulder.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong." His friend's voice was barely above a whisper, tone soft and comforting. "It's fine, really." He muttered, pulling back. Grian felt a wave of relief flood through him, watching as Mumbo sat back again.

They'd ended up in a arguably worse position than before. Grian was propping himself up off the floor, and Mumbo was now straddling him. The latter hadn't backed up much either and both their faces were very close. Grian's breath hitched slightly, watching as Mumbo's gaze wandered to his lips momentarily. His own gaze did something similar before meeting Mumbo's eyes again. Mumbo was looking at him almost needily, leaning in closer so their noses touched and breaths mingled together. Grian didn't mind at all when Mumbo leaned in even more, lips pressing against his.

He happily let Mumbo kiss him into the floor, the others tongue slipping into his mouth hungrily. He tugged at Mumbo's tie, loosening it, hands fumbling for purchase against Mumbo's suit. Grian's arms eventually came to wrap around the others neck, pulling them even closer. He whined when Mumbo pulled away, listening to Mumbo's amused huff as he tried to recapture the other's lips.

Lips were pressed against his neck instead, and Grian shivered at the sensation. He let out pleased sounds as Mumbo pressed kisses against his throat, trailing down to his shoulders as well, red jumper being moved off the side of his shoulder. Mumbo's suit jacket had ended up on the floor in the chaos of the moment, and he was now in an unbuttoned undershirt. A louder, more embarrassing noise escaped the Grian's lips when the taller bit down particularly hard, a bruise already beginning to blossom against his skin. He felt Mumbo smirk into his neck, counting to press even more kisses to Grian's skin.

The two were soon interrupted by footsteps sounding in the base, and a familiar voice ringing through the air. It was then Grian remembered he had invited Scar over as well, and the brunette was later as per usual. This was possibly the worst meeting to come late too after all.

"Grian? Mumbo? Where--oh my!"

Mumbo pulled away abruptly, face turning several shades of red when he saw Scar standing at the door way. He moved so he was no longer pinning Grian, now sitting on the smaller legs instead. It didn't help the situation they were in the the slightest, but it did give Grian some breathing room.

The blonde himself was flustered yes, but he could feel the smug look spreading across his face. Scar himself was also red, gaze glancing between the two of them in surprise.

"It's...not what it looks like?" Mumbo said awkwardly, even though it was absolutely what it looked like.

"I'll just erm, leave you guys too it!" Scar said, quickly shuffling out of the rom. Mumbo spluttered something above him, while Grian just laughed

"You could always join us, Scar!" He yelled after the man, giggling more when the sounds of rockets could be heard a moment afterwards.

"Grian!" Mumbo exclaimed, burying his head into the smaller shoulder with embrassment. Grian himself just kept giggling, content to lay there for a while. They could sort this out later, when he stopped wanting Mumbo's lips against his skin.

[adelaideandart]

So I wrote a poem about satosugu

Show me a tragedy that will shake me to the core Write me a romance so fierce it ends with war

Tell me a story how aquamarine eyes pierced the darkest soul How they filled it with infinite light Still, it was hungry for more

Cause you could think that he was doomed right from the start Beyond repair Ungrateful heart

But he loved him more than his lips were ready to admit And his heart was big enough to carry the belief that their story will go on even after death

And as his lover whispered please come back he turned his back on him and left without goodbye Feelings turned into a weapon love's a hostage, hands are tied And they still chase one another like shadow chases light

[birdo-is-here]

Here,, Have a quick Whole design, the static was very fun and i now want to draw it more often

Never going to recover from Time Machine Reprise 👍

[leslieseveride]

TEEN WOLF AESTHETICS - NEW PARENTS: STYDIA PT. 2

“ well, the 10 year plan for making lydia fall in love with me may have to stretch to 15, but the plan is definitely still in motion.” 

link to part 1 here.

[mirefireflies]

[qqqqqqqqqqq0]

i present to you the most useless talent i possess

[macbethsymphony]

charlou my love! I'm about to invade your askbox with all my horny thoughts. Dont' you dare answer them all at the same time, I know you're busy <3

Ok so! As you know I'm rewatching Wano and you know that gif of Marco's mouth? (sent it to you I don't know how many times). Anyways it sent my mind spiraling into what if Marco was angry with you and it just made him snap? My pretty usually composed bird just losing it? I bet he'd fuck good hehe

love ya! -M✨

Millie bb!!!!! I was gonna keep this one really short but you made it spiral out into something almost complete!!!! How dare you?! (jk love you for it)

It's this gif, right? ngl it sends my mind spiraling into unholy territory too

You're infuriating

Marco x fem!Reader

Summary: You’re angry at Marco and he’s angry at you and you fuck. It’s that simple ;)

tw: MDNI, 18+, nsfw, rough-ish angry sex, fingering, p in v sex

wc: 3.2k

It was a well-known fact that the first commander of the Whitebeard Pirates was nearly impossible to anger, notoriously difficult to rile up. Countless people had tried and failed to provoke him. But you? You didn’t even have to try, didn’t have to lift a single finger to bring him to the edge of madness.

"Do you even realize the risk you took back there, yoi?" Marco's voice thundered through the narrow corridor leading to the infirmary, every word laced with barely contained fury.

The stomps of your footsteps against the wooden floor echoed loudly, matching the volume of your voices and punctuating the escalating tension between you. Each of your step left a small imprint of blood, the pain in your leg raging but ignored as wrath blinded your senses.

"I had everything under control," you shot back, your own tone rising in defiance. "Until you—" Abruptly, you halted, turning around and jabbing your index finger into his chest with force. "Until YOU decided to fucking swoop in."

Marco's eyes blazed, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles twitched visibly. "Under control? You call that under control?" he retorted, his voice dangerously low. "You were inches away from becoming sea king feed, and you think that's control?"

The infirmary doors loomed ahead, your destination within reach but forgotten, the tension between you crackling like electricity. "I sure as hell didn't need your heroics," you spat, words dripping with bitterness. "I had it perfectly laid out, and you ruined it."

“Ruined it?” Marco scoffed, his expression darkening. "Your plan nearly got you killed. Again." His statement hung heavy in the air, the weight of his frustration palpable. “When are you going to learn to fucking listen to me, yoi?”

Listen to him? That made you see red. "Listen to you, Marco?" You stepped closer, and he instinctively stepped back, his eyes widening at the pure rage in yours. "You are not MY commander. Ace is." You looked him up and down, a sneer twisting your lips. "I don’t have to listen to a single word you say, pretty bird." The usually playful nickname was now laced with venom as you spat it out.

He regained his footing, stepping forward as you stepped back, the anger in his gaze blazing harsher than you'd ever seen. He started to speak, but you turned on your heel, determined to make your point, your quick steps leading you toward the sanctuary of the infirmary.

"Oi, get back here," he yelled after you. "I’m not done, yoi."

"Oh, fuck you, Marco." You shouted. "As I said, I don’t have to listen to you."

Marco's frustration boiled over. With a swift motion, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you back to face him. The sudden movement brought you chest to chest, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.

“You will listen to me, yoi,” he growled, his voice low and threatening, his breath hot against your lips.

You laughed in his face, a rich, bitter sound. Fucking asshole. With your free hand, you unclasped the holster at your side, expertly cocking one of your guns and pointing it right at his face.

“Unhand me right now, pretty bird, or I swear I’ll fucking shoot.”

His grip on your wrist tightened, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. A manic smile broke on his lips. "You wouldn't dare," he whispered, his voice a mix of challenge and something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your finger twitched on the trigger, but you didn’t pull it. He took a step forward, then another, and another, until he had you flush against the wall. His free hand shot over your shoulder, and he leaned close, effectively trapping you in.

“You will listen to me, yoi,” he repeated, his lips brushing yours.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of anger and something you’d never admit to.

Fucking asshole.

The adrenaline still surged through your veins, the proximity, the heat of his body, the intensity in his eyes—it all combined to create a heady, intoxicating tension that made it hard to breathe.

“You think you can intimidate me, first commander?” you whispered, your voice full of insolence. You cocked your head back, looking down at him from your low vantage point. You slid the nozzle of your gun against his neck, across his chest, pointing it at his crotch. “It’s your last warning, pretty bird.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved, the air between you charged and electric. Then, with a sudden, desperate urgency, he crashed his lips against yours.

It was a violent collision of emotions, a raw, unfiltered exchange that left you breathless. Marco's lips were demanding, his grip on your wrist unyielding as he poured all his pent-up anger and passion into you. And you responded in kind, matching his intensity with your own, all teeth and tongue, clashing and almost snarling into it.

For a moment, everything else drifted away—the battle, your argument, the constant push and pull between you. Your hand fell to your side, gun forgotten and all that remained was the heat of his body pressed against yours, the taste of his lips, and the desperate need to assert your own power in the midst of his.

But you were nothing if not defiant. With a sharp twist, you broke free of his grip, shoving him back hard enough to make him stumble. Your eyes were blazing as you leveled the gun at him once more, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Don't think for a second that you can just kiss me to shut me up," you snapped, your voice trembling with fury.

Marco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a wild, dangerous light in them, a reflection of your own intensity. "And don't think for a second that I won't do it again, yoi," he shot back, his voice low and rough, a deadly promise that shattered the careful balance between the two of you. Slowly he stepped towards you.

Fucking asshole.

You retreated, each step a painful reminder of the battle that had just ensued, leaving smears of blood on the wooden floor that turned into dark smudges on the sterile tiles of the infirmary. Marco's deliberate footsteps echoed behind you as he closed the door, the latch clicking ominously in the small, quiet space.

Locked in a silent standoff, your eyes defiantly held his, the air thick with a volatile mix of anger and desire that pulsed between you. You leaned heavily against the cool surface of a nearby medical cabinet, swallowing hard against the rising tide of pain. The throbbing ache in your wounded leg grew more insistent, a stark contrast to the adrenaline high still coursing through your veins.

Gun held steady, your aim unwavering over his heart, Marco advanced with a dangerous calmness that belied the tension in the room.

“Put the gun down, yoi,” Marco growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble that ignited a primal response deep within you. “I know you won’t shoot.”

Your narrowed gaze bore into his, finger twitching with a tantalizing urge to prove him wrong.

“Not a fucking chance, pretty bird,” you shot back, words edged with defiance. “Not until you fuck off.”

As the barrel of your gun hit his chest, you could see light blue flames grazing his skin.

You scoffed.

Fucking asshole.

He wasn’t taking any chances, huh?

“You won’t shoot, yoi,” he commanded this time. There was an unusual sharpness in his gaze, condescension thick in his tone as he emphasized each word. 

And you hated it.

"You don’t get to order me around." Your finger tensed against the trigger, and as his hand moved to the barrel to push your gun away, you squeezed it.

It all blurred together. Bullets streaked through the air, passing through the haze of blue flames, burying themselves in the wall behind. In a swift motion, he disarmed you, gun falling with a loud clang on the tile. His grip on your wrist was so tight you felt the bruises forming, his other hand tangled in your hair, wrenching you back, your own fingers shooting to his forearm to keep your balance. Your body arched against the cabinet, and he closed in, looming over you, his ragged breaths brushing against your brazen smile.

Fucking asshole.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, drowning out the chaos of your mind as Marco pinned you against the medical cabinet with a ferocity that you didn’t know he possessed. You liked that look in his eyes. Unbridled fury suited him well.

“You fucking shot me, yoi,” he shouted in your face in bewilderment.

“I wish they’d been seastone bullets, you asshole,” you snarled.

He didn’t flinch at the harshness of your tone. Instead his lips curled into a predatory smile. As the shock subsided, amusement and lust swirled and mixed with the anger plaguing his features.

His tongue met your lower lip, then his teeth, taking all the time in the world, relishing the power he held over you in the moment.

His hand in your hair gripped harder, pulling you back further, nails dragging against your scalp. He wasn’t kind and the pain made you gasp, and he didn’t waste the opportunity. Your eyes fluttered close as his lips found yours and his tongue darted in, dominating yours.

The heat of his mouth melded with the anger still simmering beneath your skin, igniting a firestorm of desire that you fought to suppress. But resistance proved futile against the raw intensity of his touch, the taste of him searing into your senses.

Fuck.

Your legs felt weak and not because of the gaping wound on your thigh. The familiar dizziness of lust was starting to overtake the edges of your mind. A muffled groan escaped your throat, half defiance, half surrender as he deepened the kiss, devouring your response with a relentless hunger. His body pressed into yours, every line and angle hard against your own, a testament to the storm of emotions raging between you.

His hand left your wrist, and slid down your side, hairs rising in the trail of his touch. You struggled against the overwhelming pull of him, the magnetic force that drew you closer even as you fought to regain your composure. His fingers found the hem of your shirt, tracing upwards with a deliberate slowness that set your nerves alight.

As his touch grazed the curve of your breast, you let out a low, involuntary moan, the sound mingling with your ragged breaths. Your hands, no longer restrained, buried themselves in his open shirt, nails digging into fabric, pulling him somehow closer still.

He moved your head back, exposing your throat and his lips trailed along your skin. His hand roamed down to your hip, then to the front of your pants, fingers deftly undoing the buttons. He stopped at the lace of your underwear.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, a plea whispered against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. The grip on your hair loosened and you slacked against him slightly. "Tell me to stop, yoi, and I will."

“Oh, fuck you, Marco,” you mewled into him, words muffled as your lips found his again. 

With a growl of approval, he pressed himself closer, his hand slipping past the edge of your underwear. You bucked against his touch, a dangerous need driving you forward.

He took his time, tips of his fingers dragging up your slit, gathering your arousal. He teased and relished the desperation slowly etching on your features.

As you opened your mouth to complain, his fingers found their mark, and you let out a broken cry, the sensation sending shockwaves through you. Marco's touch was skilled, knowing exactly how to unravel you with each deliberate movement.

"Fuck, Marco," you gasped against his lips, your hips moving in time with his rhythm. You felt his fingers enter you, his palm delightfully dragging along your clit. 

Oh gods. You felt your legs start to shake, the sweet promise of rapture so near.

He drank in your whines and mewls, lips moving lazily against yours, his focus entirely on you, fingers working you closer and closer to the edge. His gaze seared in the image of pleasure twisting your features into his mind. So pretty under him. 

The world suddenly ceased to exist, the only reality the heat and intensity of his touch, the way he made you feel alive and on fire all at once. A sharp cry escaped you as you came, leaving you breathless and trembling in his arms.

He quickly turned you around, the edge of the cabinet digging uncomfortably into your abdomen. You dimly heard the rattle of glass bottles and whatever instruments were locked in there, but it didn’t matter. He rolled his hips against yours and you could feel how hard he was against your rear. Suddenly you were ready to go at it again, craving to feel him inside you and you needed it now.

"Fuck me already," you demanded, impatience lacing your voice as you turned to face him. The sight that greeted you made you instantly regret it. His lazy grin of victory made your legs into jelly, and the satisfaction in his eyes ignited a desperate longing within you, making you want to moan his name.

Marco's grin widened, and he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Always so impatient, yoi,” he murmured, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

You glared at him, trying to maintain your defiance despite the tremor in your legs and the pool of arousal he’d just left in your underwear. "Just shut up and do it already," you snapped, words wavering slightly.

He hummed, considering.

His hand trailed up and down your back, dragging your shirt, fingers brushing over your skin with deliberate slowness. Every touch sent a growing need to your core, heightening your anticipation. You let out a frustrated growl, your body aching for more. "I swear, Marco, if you don't—"

“If I don’t what?” His hands played with the waistband of your pants, still stuck against the curve of your hips.  He let them pool at your feet and as he dragged down your lacy underwear, his lips traveled along your neck. “There’s nothing you can do to me little feather.”

You weren’t aware of when he’d undone his own trousers, but you could feel his tip against your folds, your slick coating his length. Your hand shot to the edge of the cabinet for balance, a shaky moan escaping your lips as he pressed against your clit, against your entrance. Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t see him, but he felt so big between your thighs and so frustratingly good.

You tried to back into him but he stopped you with a bruising hold on your hip. “Didn’t say ya could do that, did I?” he said as his hand tangled in your hair once again, pushing you forward, lifting your hips until you stood on tippy toes.

“I can do whatever I fuckin—” he started to enter you tortuously slowly. “Ah,” you gasped, he was stretching you so fucking much. “F-fuck.” Your thighs trembled and your knuckles went white as you gripped the edge of the cabinet with all your might. It was so fucking much.

“Ya can take it,” he grunted in your ear the strain of restraint evident in his voice. “Fuck that’s it. Be good for me, yoi.”

Once he was fully sheathed inside you, he stopped, recentering himself.

You could barely hear the soft unsteady laugh that escaped his lips through your own pants. His hand trailed from your ass to the curve of your spine, firing an electric shock to your core and your cunt twitching around him.

“So fucking wet, and warm and tight.” You could feel the satisfaction in his voice. “Who knew you could be so obedient, yoi?” He punctuated his statement with a slap to your ass that sent you positively keening under him.

You felt some of your slick drip down your thigh and your cheeks heated. You ached to feel him move. “Just fuck me already, Marco,” you pleaded.

He leisurely slid out of you, teasingly unhurried and you felt the absence of him, the growing need to feel him fill you again. He let out a low chuckle as he sensed you spasm against his tip, your body telling all you stubbornly kept to yourself, begging for him in your stead.

“Look at you, yoi.” He palmed your ass roughly, making you wait. “You’re dripping to the floor.”

He slowly pushed back in, the friction against your walls making the world around you go blurry. You were grateful for his hold on you as his pace gradually picked up, entirely unable to trust your own legs. You shook beneath him, completely claimed, your moans sticking at the back of your throat, but he still frustratingly teetered right at the edge, never enough to allow your orgasm to build.

“Please, Marco,” you keened, your voice a high pitch cry you didn’t recognize. “More.”

He snapped his hips at your demand, turning his pace hard and brutal and it was suddenly too much. Every drag of his cock made you see stars, shattered your breath. You sobbed out his name in a desperate plea but instead he brought his fingers to your clit.

The moan you let out was obscene, only enhanced by the squelching noises and Marco’s forceful grunts. You were certain that something had broken in the cabinet, the sound of glass loud but it was evident neither of you cared as he somehow increased his pace.

Your body sought to curl upon itself but you were trapped and it was all too much. You were aware he was almost just as close as you, his erratic thrusts and the way he bit into your shoulder clear indicators.

The world seemed to fade around you and you were suddenly lost in the moment. Every sensation was amplified, the intensity of the waves of pleasure washing over you consuming you. As the tension built to a breaking point, you cried out his name, your body trembling with rapture.

Marco followed soon after, his own climax a fierce, shuddering release that left him breathless and spent. He held you close, his forehead resting against the damp skin of your neck, both of you struggling to catch your breath.

"You're infuriating, you know that?" Marco muttered, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement.

He placed a kiss on your shoulder before backing off. You whined as you felt him pull out, felt his seed along your thigh. Your legs gave out and he quickly pulled you into his arms before you could hit the floor.

“Real infuriating, yoi,” he repeated, bringing you to one of the infirmary beds.

You smiled as he sat you down and as he made to retreat, you dragged him to you by his shirt. "Right back at you, pretty bird," you replied as you kissed him softly.

It was tender this time around and he cupped your cheek, thumb tracing soothing circles.

“Let me clean that for you,” he murmured, eyes looking at the wound on your thigh. “Wouldn’t want it to get infected, yoi.”

Masterlist

[janaknandini-singh999]

~ What Heeramandi Could Have Been ~

I loved the aesthetics ngl but ig I don't even need to get started on the plotline. By the end it was a rushed chaos of jealousy turned patriotism with the tawaifs going for each other's throats but suddenly coming together and cornering the Britishers. SLB thought he has a series in his hands now so he can mix everything together but what ended up was kinda a mess. I feel like they could've made two seasons instead, focusing s1 on the feud between Mallikajaan and Fareedan with its finale episode of Fareedan realizing what extent she had pushed Mallikajaan over and the grave sin she had made her suffer (the assault by Cartwright and the british police) and then S2 for the nationalist awakening and unity of Heeramandi

Here are some plot changes/additions they could've had according to me:

• Lajjo: Honestly I feel her character was wasted when it was so intriguing. Heeramandi especially Shahi Mahal revolved around matriarchy and how women were not tied down by men but Lajjo's character was an exception where she was controlled by her one sided love for Zorawar. She suffered from erotomania delusional disorder and used alchohol to cope. I found myself calling her female Devdas and felt bad that she didn't have much role in the plot, killing her off too soon without showing much depths and repercussions adding to the story. How her decisions and addiction spiralled her down to her own doom but with a last salute

They could've maybe shown Lajjo being reckless and impulsive without Zorawar so rushing to the frontline during the nationalist movement to sacrifice herself first out of everyone because she had no other hope to look forward for in her life anyway

"Zorawar ne kabhi saath nahi diya iss tawaif ka but iss mitti ne toh hamesha diya"

A queen of darkness and heartbreak in her own right

• Alamzeb & Tajdar: They could've been soo much better. Alam had understood that Tajdar's duties were towards his country as well. She could've teamed up with him in his missions, being a strength not an obstacle in his responsibilities. Alam, Taj and Bibbo working together in the rebellion

And Tajdar didn't deserve to be beaten to death like a dog by the britishers in jail after being sent there by his own father, but an honourable one after accomplishing a mission and being remembered like Shaheed Bhagat Singh

"Inquilaab aur ishq mein koi farq nahi hain"

A pair of patriotic tragic lovers in their own right

• Qudsia: She could've had such a major role to play in the entire series. Being married into the influential nawab lineage of Baloch and being a woman of her own mind, she could've proved to have substantial value too. By her interactions with Mallikajaan, it was evident that they had known each other since long and shared some history, probably going back to the time Mallikajaan had dethroned Rehaana and began her climb on the ladder of power in Heeramandi. They could've shown flashbacks of young Qudsia and Mallikajaan meeting for the first time as well, both women from different backgrounds respecting each other since then and Qudsia reminiscing how things take a full circle now that her own grandson was in love with her friend's daughter.

When the nawabs boycotted the tawaifs of Heeramandi in the end by the orders of the British, Qudsia could've used her son, who was full of guilt and remorse anyway after indirectly killing his own son so would've finally given up and given in, to get his connections and influence to get hold on the other nawabs and then she could've given their crucial information to Mallikajaan and the tawaif freedom fighters. She could've done this to avenge her grandson, as a tribute to his bravery for their country. She could've raised Alamzeb and Tajdar's baby together with Alamzeb in the end

A queen of grief and sacrifice for the country and her grandson in her own right

• Ustaadji: He was such an impressionable character despite being in just a supporting role. The nath scene was especially pivotal where the actor playing Ustaadji reveals that during that part when Fareedan gifts him the nath, he started crying even after the scene was done and SLB was so moved by his performance that he gave him a special token. The nath is a symbol of dignity and Ustaadji being a queer character was touched by the gesture of recieving the nath especially during those times when hijras, eunuchs were prejudiced against by invaders and colonizers but not by tawaifs who knew what it was like to face disgrace in society. Ustaadji had also joked about doing a nath utrayi (official debut of a courtesan) of his own. He could've actually done that and the britishers and nawabs would've been bewildered. Ustaadji being a popular messenger and figure in the series also had had an intimate encounter with Cartwright so had the insider knowledge to breach in so in the end instead of telling Alamzeb to kill him, he could've himself delivered the final blow, as the Indian flag would've swayed in the background through the window of the mahal, asserting that his identity may have been queer but he was a part of this country too

A king of popularity and scheming in his own right

• Bibbojaan: Ik SLB has a knack for tragedy and ik tragedy was written all over Bibbojaan since she was introduced but. she. deserved. sm. more. simply because everyone needed her. And especially when hers was the role that contributed the most in the freedom struggle too. She was there for her mother, her sister, the other tawaifs, and finally her country. In the dazzling, venomous world of Heeramandi, she was a north star for everyone

After Hamid Sahab's death, she should've been the leader of the group, devising plans and executing them. And post independence during the chaos of partition, she could've been the one to unite the people of Heeramandi and Lahore, helping them all like she did

A queen of freedom and unity in her own right

• Mallikajaan: The main character of Heeramandi had so many nuances and shades within that it was so engaging to watch her. First of all it was confusing why she'd bridle her own daughter's happiness and passion but then lay her own honour on line to protect her. She knew the pain of being separated from the child when Imaad was taken away from her because of Rehaana so why did she do the same to Rehaana's daughter? Jealousy and revenge have their own ways I guess but by the end of it all Mallikajaan was in shreds and abruptly attempted on taking the side of patriotism to cleanse whatever evil deeds she had done all her life. Even after all this one could feel for her so her ending should've been better served as well

The tawaifs could've trapped the british army in Shahi Mahal after luring them in and then blown the place up. Mallikajaan would've no doubt not leave the Mahal even during the destruction, as a result sacrificing herself too but there's a deeper meaning here. The Shahi Mahal stands for power for which Mallikajaan fought, even killed and did what not, not even sparing her own people throughout the story. She did it to consume others but in the end was consumed by the all consuming power itself.

"Maine Shahi Mahal ke liye sabko tabaah kar diya. Ab yahi mera guroor hain, junoon hain, fitoor hain. Aur main bhi issi ke saath tabah hungi"

But the dignity that was stripped away from her by the british police is back in her eyes now as she stares at them all as she presses down the button of the bomb, whispering "Inquilab zindabaad"

This incident and Shahi Mahal instead would be known as "Mallikajaan's Majestic Massacre Mahal" and the biggest act of rebellion by tawaifs, sending chills down the britishers as she'd have power over them even after her death

A queen of power and twisted fate in her own right

• Waheeda: A fascinating character indeed, someone you'd have a love-hate relationship with. She was an isolated, intimidating tawaif who I can picture siding with the britishers and enemies to take down Mallikajaan, only for them all to realize she was using them for her gain

After Shahi Mahal blown up, she could've gone somewhere else in Heeramandi to establish her own mahal from scratch, finally becoming a huzoor

A queen of scars and quiet rage in her own right

• Shama: Fareedan could've given the keys of Khwabgah to her and made her that place's huzoor. She would've given a tough competition to her mother and fought for herself. Mallikajaan had once pointed out that only she had the deceit and tact rather than all her own daughters to be a true tawaif and yes she had the charm of a tawaif at such a young age so she could've manipulated the nawabs to boycott the britishers instead

A queen of a promising heroine of seduction in her own right

• Fareedan: When she realized what she had done to Mallikajaan, she could've been gradual about it because she was still close to Cartwright at that point. She could've used that advantage to extract more information and get close to other British officials, still pretending she's against Mallikajaan. That would've been a fatal attack planned with the tawaifs and freedom fighters after getting to know their weaknesses.

After the partition and realizing the futility of it all, she could've gone across the borders, already used to travelling the land when she was tricking and running away from husband to husband when she was a child, and could've built an orphanage so the children wouldn't go through what she went through as a child when she was sold off in Heeramandi

A queen of challenges rising above injustice in her own right

• Satto & Phatto: After Mallikajaan who they were loyal to, and after Fareedan, Alamzeb, everyone gone, they could've shifted out and opened a dhaba or something in Heeramandi, with Iqbal working for them now. The dhaba would've become famous and so would they and they'd look back on how every tawaif including them would dream of becoming the queens of Heeramandi and they were actually that now after so much of their trustworthy hard work that was unpaid before but is recognized now

The queens of loyalty and dreams in their own right

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Gladly taking you up on your smut requests omg??? The last one you posted was so good !! I absolutely LOVED the good day Clancy fic it was amazing. so I had a vague idea of a Clancy x reader fic where it starts out with fluff then leads into smut? My idea is that Clancy had broken the reader out of Dema and was now helping her adjust to life outside of the city. She's a bit nervous around him because of how ambitious he is and how much of a risk taker he is. She feels like with how firm he is with his decisions and how quick he is to act out plans, it's dangerous for her. She's just scared to get caught by the Bishops and returned to Dema. She ends up telling Clancy about all of this and he comforts her through her doubts and anxieties. With how much time they spend together while Clancy is helping her adjust, they end up getting pretty close and realize that they're actually a lot more alike than previously anticipated and they bond from it. Thennn you can go from there how you'd like ^^ idunno I've never requested fics before so idk if this is too much or not LMAO You can change it up however you like if you end up doing it!! I'm just itching for more Clancy x reader content really lol -🩷✨

Scared - Clancy x Reader - Smut

Warnings: Fluffy smut hehe

Word Count: 2438

A/N: I love writing lore fics ngl 👀 Also love that we've got new anons coming in! That was a great request :)

Clancy had always been a whirlwind of energy, an enigma of rebellion and daring plans. He’d been that way in the city but the second he stepped out of the walls he’d gone full tilt. From the moment he helped break me out of Dema, I had felt a tug of nervousness in my chest. I wasn’t quick like him, I wasn’t bold like him. He moved so quickly, his mind always calculating the next step, never stopping to rest for long. His intensity filled the camp as he conversated with the Torchbearer and while it was what had saved me, it also worried me. Clancy was unpredictable, reckless at times, and his ambition seemed limitless—qualities that made me feel like we were constantly on the edge of being caught, dragged back to the nightmare I had barely escaped. Hidden at the bandito camp, where the city’s grasp could not reach. The silence of Trench was disorienting after a life in Dema and I still wasn’t used to the freedom. The thought of it often sent me spiraling, making me wonder if this new world was really safer, or if it was just a ticking time bomb leading us down a path of being dragged back to Dema by the bishops. 

Clancy had seemed to notice I wasn’t coping well. His piercing gaze had fallen on me more than once, sizing me up, always quietly observing. I could tell he was holding back, waiting for me to come to terms with this new life on my own but it never happened–my worries growing heavier with each day. 

One night I found myself sitting near the fire, staring into the flames that Torchbearer had ignited. Clancy sat on the log next to mine, looking down at the notebook everyone knew he kept his plans in. The pen in his hand scribbled frantically as he spoke to himself quietly. My heart raced as I watched him, the feeling of helplessness clawing at me. What if he made a mistake? What if we didn’t move quick enough and we were caught? I couldn't take it anymore. 

“Clancy,” I said softly, walking up to him.

He stopped, looking over at me, his brow furrowing in concern. “Yeah?”

“I’m worried about what we’re planning. I don’t trust that we’re safe,” I admitted, my voice shaking slightly. “You’re so–so confident with every decision you make. We’re taking risks without thinking twice, and I’m… I’m terrified. What if the bishops find us? What if all of this was for nothing?”

For a moment, Clancy didn’t respond, his intense brown eyes studying me. Then, slowly, he moved across the log, allowing me to sit next to him. His presence, though comforting, also made me feel more vulnerable. The firelight flickered against his face, casting shadows in his dark hair, making him seem almost otherworldly.

“I know it's a lot,” he said quietly, his voice softer than usual, losing some of its usual bravado. “And I get that you're scared. You’ve been through hell in Dema. I know what it’s like to be afraid of them. The bishops... they have a way of getting into your head, making you think there’s no way out. But trust me when I say they don’t control you anymore.”

I shook my head, struggling to explain the storm inside me. “But you don’t understand. I feel like we’re still running. Like at any moment, they’ll find us, and it’ll all be over.”

Clancy’s eyes softened, and his hand reached out to rest on mine. I froze at the contact, not sure what to expect. But his touch was gentle, grounding.

“I do understand,” he said, his thumb tracing small circles on my skin. “I’ve been living like this for a while now. Always on the run, always looking over my shoulder. It’s not easy, and it never will be. But you don’t have to carry all that fear alone.”

I looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, I saw past the recklessness, past the daring confidence. There was something deeper, something raw. He wasn’t as invincible as he made himself seem. He had his own scars from Dema, his own demons chasing him. And in that moment, I realized how much alike we were, despite my fears.

His hand squeezed mine lightly. “I’m here. You’re not doing this alone anymore.”

The vulnerability in his voice melted the walls I’d built, and I found myself leaning into him, letting his warmth pull me in. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close, and I let out a shaky breath, resting my head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, a rhythm that seemed to slow the chaos inside me.

“You don’t have to be like me,” he murmured against my hair. “I don’t expect that from you. Just be you. We’ll figure the rest out.” I closed my eyes, letting his words sink in. For the first time in days, I felt at peace. His arms around me, the quiet of the cabin, the crackle of the fire—it all felt... safe. Safer than I’d felt in a long time.

Time seemed to blur as we sat there together, the tension between us shifting. I felt myself relaxing into him, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the lines of his chest through his shirt. His body was solid, grounding, and I felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence. But something else stirred, too. A closeness that hadn’t been there before, or maybe had been, but I hadn’t let myself acknowledge. I lifted my head to look at him, our faces inches apart. His gaze, normally sharp and calculating, had softened. There was something in his eyes now—something vulnerable, open. My breath caught in my throat.

Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to. The air between us had changed, thick with unspoken tension. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Clancy’s hand moved from my shoulder to my cheek, his thumb brushing my skin in a way that made my heart race.

My pulse quickened, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. I leaned in, closing the distance between us, my lips brushing his softly at first, testing the waters. His breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he kissed me back, his lips firm and warm, as though they’d been waiting for this moment as much as I had. The kiss deepened, the fire between us growing with each passing second. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around my waist, drawing me into his lap. The warmth of his body, the way he held me so tightly, so possessively, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Clancy,” I whispered against his lips, my voice trembling with need.

“Tent. Let’s go to my tent,” he muttered, picking me up bridal style and carrying us over to one of the larger tents in the campsite. Lucky for us the floor of his tent wasn’t too hard, the blankets he’d stolen from the city making a comfortable barrier between the dirt ground and us. 

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark with desire. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low, rough with restraint.

I nodded, my heart pounding. “Yes. I need this. I need you.”

That was all it took. With a hum of approval, Clancy’s lips crashed into mine again, more urgent this time. His hands roamed my body, exploring, claiming. The world outside faded away, the Bishops, Dema, all of it disappearing as we lost ourselves in each other.

Clancy’s lips were relentless now, the hunger between us building with every passing second. The intensity of it made my head spin, my body aching for more. His hands, strong and warm, gripped my waist as he pulled me impossibly closer, my legs straddling his lap. I could feel the heat of him through the fabric of his clothes, his arousal evident against me, and it only stoked the fire burning inside me.

His hands slid under my shirt, his fingers tracing the bare skin of my back, making me shiver. The sensation sent a wave of electricity through me, igniting something deep and primal. I gasped against his mouth as he tugged at my shirt, pulling it up and over my head in one swift motion, tossing it aside without a second thought.

Clancy's eyes raked over me, dark and intense, his breath coming quicker now. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “and smart, and strong, and brave.” His hands cupped my breasts through the thin fabric of my bra, his thumbs brushing over my hardened nipples, making me arch into him with a desperate need I hadn’t known I was capable of.

I moaned softly as he kissed along my jaw, down the column of my neck, his lips hot against my skin. His hands were everywhere, touching, exploring, claiming me in a way that felt both overwhelming and exhilarating. My fingers tugged at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against mine, needing the barrier between us gone.

He obliged, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. The sight of him—strong, toned, and so undeniably real—made my pulse race even faster. I traced the lines of his chest with my fingers, marveling at the heat of his skin, the way his muscles tensed under my touch. I leaned in, kissing the curve of his collarbone, tasting the salt of his skin, reveling in the way he groaned softly, his hands tightening on my hips.

Clancy’s hands moved to the button of my jeans, and I lifted myself slightly to help him as he deftly undid them, sliding the fabric down my legs and discarding them in the growing pile of clothes. His hands gripped my thighs, pulling me back onto his lap, his hardness pressing against my core through the thin material of my underwear. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and I couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped my lips.

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with lust but also something deeper—something tender, almost reverent. “You’re sure?” he asked again, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though he needed to hear it one last time.

I nodded, my breath shaky but full of certainty. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With that, Clancy’s hands slid beneath the waistband of my underwear, pulling them down and leaving me completely bare before him. His gaze darkened as he took me in, and the heat in his eyes sent a thrill through me. He shifted beneath me, his fingers brushing over my core, teasing, testing. 

“You’re so wet. Is all this for me?” He teased, bringing my slick to up his lips and sucking it off his fingers. I nodded desperately, my hips instinctively rocking against him, craving more.

He didn’t make me wait. His fingers found my clit, circling slowly at first, building the tension inside me. I gripped his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as pleasure began to coil tightly in my belly. Clancy watched me with a hunger that matched my own, his touch both gentle and demanding, as though he knew exactly what I needed.

I was lost in him, in the sensation of his fingers, the heat of his body pressed against mine. Every touch, every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through me, and I could feel the tension building, spiraling higher and higher until I was on the edge of breaking.

“Clancy,” I moaned, my voice breathless, desperate.

He pulled his hand away, and I whimpered at the loss, but before I could protest, he shifted beneath me, undoing his own pants with a swift motion. The anticipation, the knowledge of what was coming, made my heart pound in my chest. I watched as he freed himself, his erection hard and ready, and my body ached with need. Giving his cock a couple tugs, he slipped on one of the few condoms he’d stolen from his draw back in Dema when we escaped. He lifted me slightly, positioning me above him, his eyes locked on mine, seeking permission one final time. I nodded, my body trembling with want, and slowly, he lowered me onto him, inch by inch, until he filled me completely.

The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious mix of fullness and heat that made me gasp, my hands clutching his shoulders for support. Clancy groaned, his grip on my hips tightening as he held me there, letting me adjust to the feel of him inside me.

“God you feel so good Y/N.”

“Shit,” I seethed, feeling my wall stretch and clamp around him.

For a moment, we were still, the only sound between us the ragged breaths we shared. He pressed his lips to mine, capturing the moment in a passionate kiss that took my breath away. I placed a hand on his chest as I slowly began to move, rocking my hips against him, finding a rhythm that sent sparks of pleasure through me with every movement.

Clancy’s hands guided me, his touch firm but reverent, his gaze never leaving mine as we moved together. The connection between us was undeniable, an intimacy that went beyond the physical. I could feel it in the way he touched me, the way he held me like I was something precious.

As the pleasure built again, faster this time, I could feel the tension rising inside me, coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. Clancy’s breathing grew ragged, his grip on me tightening as his own control began to slip.

“Clancy I–I’m–” I couldn’t manage to get the words out, groans escaping my mouth between each pause.

“I know baby girl, I’m here. We’re safe. Cum for me,” he murmured, his voice rough and commanding, as he reached down to rub circles on my clit–that was all it took.

With a cry, I shattered around him, the pleasure ripping through me in waves that left me breathless, trembling in his arms. Clancy followed moments later, his release spilling into the condom.

For a long time, we stayed like that, wrapped in each other, our bodies still trembling from the aftermath. The world outside was quiet, the threat of Dema and the Bishops fading into the background as we held each other close.

In that moment, with Clancy’s arms around me and our hearts still racing in sync, I realized something. I wasn’t just free from Dema—I was free with him.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[sistersinster]

Question to all of my fellow hierophiles, priest-desirers and other flavours of blasphemers:

How did you find out you were a hierophile? Where did it start for you?

(Spoilers ahead for The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco!)

I read The Name of the Rose about a decade ago for a book report towards the end of high school. Yeah yeah, the pages detailing Adso's affair with the girl are definitely more worn out than the others, but the passage that really got me was Ubertino using the statue of the Virgin to talk about divine beauty to Adso. He points to her breasts and Adso blushes like the teenage boy he is and that sent me spiraling into fantasies about young monks and friars being so starved of touch they develop a sexual obsession with the Virgin. Still hot ngl, the thought of them floating somewhere between lust and divine love when they look at her.

[limeade-l3sbian]

Ngl I am spiraling a bit after reading your "couldn't really come to terms with my sexuality and naively glamorized being taken advantage of by a woman" post. I am bi but I didn't realized I could be attracted to men until my 20s so in my teens I was just focussed on all the homophobia thrown at me (early 2000s were hell) and yea I was heavily attracted to older and more dominant women. My attraction to men turned out to be a non-starter and the few times I acted on it it was horrible. So I worked through the trauma that gave me and came out of it as what the girlies call "febfem" these days. But i never worked through why I mainly fantasize about women taking advantage of me as well. And that this fantasy started way before I ever experienced trauma from men etc. So it's probably because I had issues with internalized homophobia as a kid/teen. I never confronted it as an issue because no woman ever hurt me irl and no woman ever took advantage of me irl. My relationships to women and the sex I had with them has always been healthy. Even though I fantasize and long for something less healthy sometimes. The older I get the more I think I should maybe work through that? Luckily the things I fantasize about are way less bad than what I had on my mind when I really loathed myself for being ssa/gnc/etc. But I feel like a hypocrite sometimes when I argue against kink culture and bdsm while theoretically still being very much okay with the thought of a woman taking advantage of me. It's gotten better over the years automatically as I got rid of some self hatred and internalised homophobia but I never addressed it as an issue. Despite it probably being one

Well, I can't to your own experiences but I will say that that phase in my life also came from some level of low self worth. Not being conventionally attractive growing up, I had the desire to be "so desired" that etc etc. So I didn't really feel that I "deserved" to be taken advantage of, but I twisted it as the ultimate form of attraction. Lesbian, bi, or straight, we all live in the same culture and my thoughts were not formed or influenced outside of it.

I think it was also that thing a lot of people do about lessening the extent of things within the context of women/wlw relationships. Abuse is bad, but it's not so bad if it's a woman doing it to you (false). Rape can be traumatizing, but if it was a woman I might actually enjoy it since the threat of extreme pain, callousness, and being killed are removed from the equation (false). When I slightly conceded to my sexuality, I was also in the thick of a porn addiction in high school. So I associated my sexuality with men, as if liking women is a manly trait.

It's a thick web of self realization and societal norms and implications. I think if you were going to work through it, I would urge you to both take it slow and allow yourself to consider the most uncomfortable of implications regarding your fantasies. To be clear: YOU are NOT a bad person for having these thoughts. You are a piece in the system as much as anyone else and its influence is woven into everything.

I made that post because I never realized how many other ssa women had this happen to them as well, and I think the fact that that one post sent you into a spiral means that it is worth not necessarily normalizing, but acknowledging and working through as a community so that other women can either skip over it or know how to combat it when those feelings arise.

[dollfaceirene]

50 DAY SC CHALLENGE: UPDATE 1

SO it's finally time for the first update of the 50 Day Self Concept challenge that i started to improve my mindset!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏: so i listened to some new SC affirmation tapes that i found on youtube and relistened to my SC playlist and i've noticed a calmness in my mindset ngl. I just felt meh about my mindset. 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐: icl i've seen a sense of calmness in my mindset which is good. Been affirming i was a master shifter and could shift on command (becuz respectfully, i fcking can lol), i've noticed when i was on call with one of my friend's friend, i was actually really talkative & funny, my mum is nicer to me, i feel soo good 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟑: so i saw some video of some shiftoker that i have been keeping up with recently and she minishifted after her 2nd day of reprogramming her subconsciousness and that made me spiral and cause a dip in my mindset because "she was making more progress in her 3D than me" and i started having feeling of jealousy and such. Regardless, i kept persisting even though i lowkey felt shitty and then near the end of the night, i listened to some SC affirmation tapes & shifting subs 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟒: ever since seeing that video of someone minishifting on their 2nd day of their mental diet, i’ve just been wavering thinking “why not me?” “how long until its my turn” and its just sent me in some spiral. It doesn’t help that lately i’ve been just home all day so i get bored very easily and start wavering on my self concept aswell. Idk, but i just need to pick myself tf up and stand up because if i keep wavering, ill never get out of the cycle of persisting in my SC and being a master shifter, focus on the 3D then start affirming the opposite. Nuh uh! because i promised myself this year ill shift and no more fucking excuses because if other people can do it then there is absolutely no excuse to me doing it 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟓: So after reading a really eye opening and wake up call loa post on tumblr at 12AM, i decided why tf was i allowing myself to become a victim of the 3D when its the effect and my 4D is the cause?? So i kept persisting in my affirmations and woke up feeling sm better. Overall, i manifested some stuff and even something didnt go my way in the 3D and i found it sm easier to not react to it.

[yourthirdparent]

OH MY GOD okay so a beloved follower of mine sent me an ask about my tristan mclean headcanons like in december but i accidentally deleted !!!!!!! the fuckcing ask !!!!!!!!!!!!!! so i'm making it a post. hope you don't mind. also sorry for the wait

most of my thoughts are things i can not share on this blog (this is the Normal blog for Normal things and not the fucked up torture i subject this man to on a regular basis. tbf i hardly post about it on the Bad Posts blog either but like still. can share it on ao3 though check out sleep by imjustheretoreadonefic (don't do that it's not good)) but you can ask about that (if you want, which you probably won't because it is not most people's thing lmao) on my sideblog, yourfourthparent!! BUTBUTBUT i do have some thoughts and headcanons and such that are at the very least decently presentable!!!!

starting off first: i think he's bi! i think he figured out he was bi when he was pretty young (probably somewhere in his teenage years, probably like 15 max) and when he was in his 20s he was very involved in the queer community (his 20s being. in the 80s. sorry.) and was like a big activist. that is until the curse.

the curse being him hitting his big break. stars in some film that wasn't supposed to really blow up but it like Fucking Smashed and suddenly he was like all those guys who do one role and then are suddenly in Everything. cuz he sure is in literally everything. once he starts blowing up ofc he's got folks to help manage his image and at some point they're like haha [lip bite] you gotta stop with that gay shit or straight audiences won't find you marketable. you're already native and folks can hardly handle that let alone you being an active queer activist. you gotta cut that shit out so you can be the next batman or whatever. and tristan's like Well at least i'll make money to support myself and my dying father!

newsflash his father dies of cancer before he gets a chance. tristan's doing his best to avoid thinking about his father's death so he moves out of oklahoma blah blah yk how it goes.

he has piper when he's 33 ! everything's set and he's settled and then piper comes along and like. he's alright. he can handle this. he can be a good father (he's white knuckling the bathroom sink while he says this)

yeah he's terrified of being a shitty father. he does his best to keep her away from the press and keep her Okay for the most part but in order to do that he doesn't get to see her much etc etc. you know. you've read hoo. bleh

when piper starts dating jason he's like Oh cool ! i am about to break down ! cuz like. hey man. he is so not prepared for the reality of The Passage of Time. wdym his daughter is 16. fym tristan's almost fifty. that's so fucked up how is this allowed.

anyways he and jason are like Besties (*shoving my Bad posts to the side*) like they're such good friends they hang out so often even after jason and piper break up they're just Hiding it then. like they have weekly chess meetings and they talk about books and their lives and jason concerns tristan So Much oh my god tristan is so scared for this poor boy What are those tattoos young man Who are these "wolves" that raised you What is this "legion" Are you in a gang Little private school boy are you in a gang. What do you mean your first language is latin.

ngl my obsession with tristan came from my obsession with jason. i made a post like ages ago about how silly it'd be if tristan was jason's gay awakening and i just kept. thinking about them hanging out. and it spiralled and now i'm insane about him sorry. jason will always be my number one but Oohhhhh tristan consumes me.

anyways live tristan reaction when he finds out jason's mom is beryl grace in the middle of showing jason and piper a million old movies (beryl is in one and jason sees her and immediately freezes and tristan's just talking through the movie (hes silly sorry he talks through the whole thing. piper actually likes it because she has a hard time following movies so tristan explaining everything is good but jason is vaguely annoyed by it. he loves tristan to death don't get him wrong it's just that he can't concentrate on the kovie with tristan spitting fun facts a million words a second) when he looks over to see if theyre still watching and he just sees piper fretting over jason who's looking at the screen with a thousand gard stare.

let's go misc things that i want to mention somewhere but don't really fit uhhhh

i have this idea where tristan used to be a drag queen. i don't have any of the details down not a single one but i think about him talking to piper and her friends about the old days when he was a queen. mentions something offhandedly about how he wants to wear more feminine clothing and someone's like "oh are you like. yk. a gamer" and he's like "oh nonono i'm not trans trust me i explored my gender plenty, wore makeup, padded my bra, did drag for a few years, changed my name—" and they're like "you did DRAG ???" and he's like "OH yeah LOLZ i was terrible lol. my team keeps trying to bury it from public view for a reason. those looks were NOT serving !!!!" (he doesn't talk like that but i'm being silly rn)

(you just knoooooow jason was jaw on the floor immediately looking up TRISTAN MCLEAN DRAG TRISTAN MCLEAN DRAG QUEEN PERSONA NAME TRISTAN MCLEAN DRAG QUEEN TRISTAN MCLEAN— the SECONDDDD he got a chance. like staring so hard at old ass pictures of tristan doing drag and realising like Oh maybe i am bi. piper dumped him because she found his search history /j)

i think when his father died he cut his hair but then when it started growing long again it reminded him too much of the past that he Didn’t Want To Think About so he just. kept it short. and it's been short ever since. BUTBUTBUT when piper decides she wants to reconnect with her culture (which she's been mostly separate from because of tristan's own avoidance of it due to memories of his childhood and his father and blahblahblah) it sort of motivates him to do it too. like if piper's gonna do it after tristan entirely cut her from their culture then like. he can too. and it was a big part of his life when he was younger so like. he knows shit. i'm not good at this btw sorry i just have ideas UGSFHADGSF but anyways when piper starts reconnecting he decides to do it too and his first step with like Getting Comfortable again is growing his hair out. it's a smaller step yk he just doesn't cut his hair it's nothing active. (ofc when it starts getting properly long he has a few moments. he has to really confront his grief over his father's death and just the fear of that alone is enough to make him want to cut it again. piper stops him before he does but he has a few moments where he questions if it's worth it)

ik i just said earlier that he's not trans but like sometimes. with characters. i have headcanons that complety contradict each other. that is to say Transfem tristan mclean headcanon. she changes her name to t. just T. t wynn mclean. she goes by t cuz it's something she's already used to (jason called her that all the time before she came out).

these are all the ones i have off the top of my head agh pleaseplease feel free to ask more about any of these !!! (or critique them lmao half of them are. things i suck at explaining because they exist only for hyperspecific scenarios wherein nothing happens but tristan talking to jason or piper LMAO) you can also send in your own headcanons about him or jason or piper because EYE WANT TO READ MORE ABOUT THEM RAAAAGHHH seriously there's so little stuff that features him especially and if you have literally anything at all i would lovelovelove to read it all !!!!!!! sorry for deleting the ask btw i really didn't mean to LMAO sorry to my honourary mutual (i'd tag you but i'm afraid of misremembering who it was LMAO sorry mate 💔💔)