#their energy together is just incredible

[w1f1n1ghtm4r3]

DIVORCE! DIVORCE! DIVORCE!

[fisheito]

(3) remaining

[delicioustarong]

Oof I finally have a few hours for myself---

Anyways! References! Here are the reference sheets for my AU "Beyond Reach" it's messy but it gets the job done :3

I have a few illustrations planned for this au, so stay tuned hehehe

[swan2swan]

Absolutely incredible how I went into both Camp Cretaceous and Chaos Theory fully ready to commit to a gay ship but both of them wound up giving me next to nothing in the first season.

[brokenorbornthatway]

Man it drives me up a wall to come across an anti saying shit like "but the slendermen incident" (whatever that is/was), "but people who emulate fictional serial killers", but but but whatever people who saw something fictional and used it to justify their bad choices.

Just.

You do realize that none of that takes away from the fact that fiction isn't real and the rules of reality should not be imposed on fiction right? People do absolutely horrible things to each other for more reasons than either you or I could possibly think up. Someone choosing to enact something awful they read in fiction isn't any different than someone choosing to do something awful because they read a news article about it.

Think about that for a second. People absolutely have emulated serial killers that they heard/read about from the news. So then, by anti logic, would the solution be to never talk about serial killers on the news ever again in case someone uses it to justify hurting someone else? I sure fucking hope not.

The problem isn't with the news and it isn't with fiction. The problem lies with the people who actually commit the heinous acts and societal issues we have that make it so easy for people to feel for whatever reason that they can and should turn to committing real acts of violence.

Working as a culture to destigmatize having violent thoughts and urges, educating from a young age about these thoughts and urges (and what do about them if you feel them or think someone else is), and providing ample resources for healthy non harmful way to embrace those thoughts and urges would go soooooooooooo much further than arbitrarily trying to police things that are only tangentially related to the core problem.

Honestly, it's my belief that almost (we won't say every because nothing is a monolith) every human alive has violent thoughts and urges to some to degree. We are still animals. We are highly intelligent apes, but apes nonetheless. Look at the violence in other apes and in beings all throughout the animal kingdom. We still have the instincts/genes/biological coding that drives us to hunt, kill, fight for territory, attack any possible threat, do whatever it takes to stay alive and sometimes these instincts+our intelligence lead to people wanting to or causing harm. Some people, for a myriad of reasons, struggle more with violent thoughts and tendencies than others.

I just think if we embraced and acknowledged violence as part of our nature on a foundational level and gave people the tools to handle it without shame or causing harm, there would be a massive reduction in violent crimes. This is done a little bit through things like contact sports, fighting sports, violent fiction and video games, etc, but I think proper education about why people want violent things in the first place would make a huge difference.

I just wish antis would stop pointing the blame of people who do violent things "because fiction told them it was ok" on fiction and point it at the people doing the violent things and the society that allows it instead

-an annoyed researcher

[stars-inthe-sky]

Tagged by @sullenaquarian

Last song: "Lisztomania (Classixx Version)" by Phoenix

Last movie: "Saturday Night" on New Year's Eve at home, "Wicked" in a theater the day after Thanksgiving

Currently watching: The new Doctor Who Christmas special. I should really catch up on Abbott Elementary at some point. I don't have the brain power for anything new, though whether that's kid-related exhaustion or because 911 still owning my entire ass (¯\_(ツ)_/¯) is anyone's guess.

Currently reading: ...really just 911 fic

Tagging: @village-skeptic, @hondagirll, @alchemistc

[fagatakonin]

I MIGHT be becoming mildly obsessed with current roommate don't mind me. Do not say it's a crush i am going to kill you. It's more of a 'i want to steal your skin and live in it' situation which famously is cooccurrent with crushes for me but not ALWAYS. i just have a soft spot for people who walk that beautiful tightrope between cool and cringe (the biggest aspiration for me)

[astranite]

--whiney rant and vent--- starts at tumblr but descends into my life.

Fucking tumblr!! *grabs tumblr and aggressively shakes it*

Some new hell update has made it so every time I reblog a post, i go right back to the top of my dash and have to scroll half a mile through the posts Ive already seen to get back to the ones i havent yet seen and want to see!! And even with the scroll bar it takes ages and breaks the loading and makes it nearly genuinely unusable!!!

But Im still going to even though it sucks, because tumblr is my designated scroll and look at characters time and be with mutuals. And yes this is a very small whiny thing to rant about, especially given the state of the damn world, but with the rest of my life imploding in many numbered crisises that even one of would be apparently considered a fairly major thing to have to deal with im now realsising because through massive amounts of avoidance id just gone "this is fine" despite being very reasonably banned from the word fine by 5 different people and then me, and then others going 'wow that really is alot' semihorrified, and I awkwardly laugh because i am used to this and its not that bad and whatever stupid shit i tell myself to keep going.

So yes, whining about tumblr because at this point its a load bearing coping mechanism. And its somewhat a last straw because i am barely hanging on as it is but ill deal with this like everything else because there isnt any other options.

[odetolovers]

i’m losing it

[madtomedgar]

When will my appetite return from the war

[wyvernne]

Don’t listen to that anon! Please make the werewolf Diluc fic!!!

hahaha don’t worry, they’re just joking. i still plan to work on it. since frwad is such an emotionally tolling series to even write, i plan to make werewolf diluc a bit of a sweeter fic. obviously it’ll still have my classic hurt/comfort, but less doom and gloom overall.

[daisychainsandbowties]

hmm. starting to wonder if sleeping is a real thing

[moderatetoaboveaverage]

"Boil water to turn fan" as if multistage steam turbine generators are not one of the sexiest kinds of machines every made

nuclear power is impressive until you get up to why. "we use the most precisely engineered machinery ever created to split atoms to release energy" oh yeah how come? "boil water to turn a fan" get the fuck out

[elkkiel]

I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE.

i havent had a chance to reply to your other message yet, because im also tired as fuck and trying to catch up on sleep (i have the day off). i saw this and practically tripped on my way to type this out.

-“shy” anon

LMAOOOOOOO hi shy anon, yes yes come join the ever-growing blanket fort hibernation den commune thing. we are cozy and warm and aren't leaving till mid-March!!!

(have you ever had a butter tart before? it's a Canadian dessert, kinda like pecan pie but without the pecans. they're like the perfect fall/winter dessert when they're warm from the oven, so I'll bring some to share if you bring some of those World Famous™ apple cider blondiessssss (<- save me apple cider blondies save meeee))

[sputnikodin]

i am really falling in love with this year's team i think no matter what happens the rest of the season i will always remember how magical it's felt the last few days

[yanderedrabbles]

Private Military Contractor - Yandere Noncon

Yandere Male x Fem Reader Heavily inspired by this incredible fic.

He took you. Plucked you straight off the street on the way back from class. He must have known your routine down to a tee, because he did it all with a casual, brutal efficiency. Parking his rented van on the quietest road on your route, stacking a ladder and some paint cans outside so you'd think he was just a regular workman. The door open and waiting just for you, though you didn't know it yet.

You remember greeting him ‐ a quick good morning to be polite - without stopping or even really looking at him. You walked a little bit past the van without realising he was following you. Oblivious right up until the moment he grabbed you, one paw against your mouth to swallow your scream.

He was quick. So ruthlessly quick. Yanking you inside the van and closing the door before you even fully registered what was happening.

He wants you around for one thing and one thing only. He made that abundantly clear on the first day, when you were scarcely through the front door and he was already tearing off your skirt. He would have fucked you in the van the second he took you if he thought he could get away with it.

He isn't gentle. He bends you over the couch with your wrists held together in the small of your back. If you squirm too much, he twists your arm so hard you scream that he's going to break it.

He fucks you dry. Shoving himself inside of you despite how tight you are, how unready and unwilling. He groans at the first thrust, so obscenely satisfied. Like he's finally tasting a prize long differed.

He doesn't last long during the first round. Spilling himself into you after less than three minutes.

He's big - too fucking big. The cum that drips out of your cunt is tinged pink with blood. If he notices it, he doesn't care. He just stands there for a minute, stroking himself hard again and then it's time for round two. Your tears haven't even had time to dry.

He fucks like a soldier in a foreign war zone. Taking, claiming, stealing. It doesn't matter that you're not his to have; he has his guns and his training and to him that's all the reason he needs.

He fucks like he hasn't had a woman in years. With all the pent up energy of long, lonely nights spent in the ugliest parts of the world. He fucks you like a man who's finally gotten his hands on the fantasy he's nursed through all the worst moments of his life.

He fucks like he's terrified of losing you now that he finally, finally has you.

You can't stand after he's done with you. Your cunt burning so bad you think you're on fire from the inside out. He doesn't care that you hang limp from his grip. He just picks you up and tosses you over one broad shoulder and takes you to his bedroom.

You come out of your shock only when you feel the handcuffs closing around your wrist. He's literally chained you to his bed.

You start screaming again then. Frightened and begging and finally realising that this is really happening. It's not a bad dream or a story on the news, it's actually fucking happening to you.

He ignores you, pulling off his heavy combat boots and locking his pistol in the draw across the room. Maybe he's waiting for you to tire out, for your throat to start hurting and for you to quiet down. You don't.

He sighs like you're nothing more than an inconvenience and then slaps you so hard your ears ring and white dots spark across your vision.

His use of violence is so causal, so easy. It's shock that keeps you quiet more than the pain.

Before evening on the first day, he fucks you four more times. He doesn't listen when you beg him to be gentle, beg him to go slow. He ignores you when you plead with him to fuck your mouth instead, as much as he wants, just so long as he gives your pussy a break.

Men like him exist on the knife edge between life and death. Is it any surprise that it leaves its mark? That he wants to take whatever pleasure he can because god alone knows how much time he has left?

He doesn't kiss you until the very end, when he's deep between your thighs and you've dug your nails so deep into his back that you're going to leave scars. He kisses you when you're too hurt and sore and scared to turn away. He kisses you and it feels like he's finally staking his claim. Like part of him didn't believe you were real until he'd fucked you again and again and there was no one to stop him.

The next morning, he shoves a bitter tasting pill under your tongue and keeps his hand over your mouth until he's sure it's dissolved.

"No kids," he says simply and it makes you want to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Yeah, you agree silently, no fucking kids. Especially not if you're the father. Especially not in a world where men like you exist.

He has an appetite that's borderline impossible to satisfy. Once he starts kissing you, he doesn't stop. Teeth nipping at your lips until you give in and even then it's not enough. He wraps one massive hand around your throat and squeezes.

"Kiss me back," he breathes, his lips just an inch from yours.

You kiss him and he takes it like you're everything he's ever dreamed about, the prize he's somehow earned.

After that, he spends a lot more time exploring your body. It's like he needed to get some of that desperation out of his system before he could think straight.

He's less feverish when he touches you, but no less impatient. He pries your thighs apart with one brutal yank and drops his face to your pussy. You try and jerk away from him, try and close your legs despite the massive forearms keeping them spread. You don't want him there. It's too intimate, it's too vulnerable. Hasn't he taken enough?

He licks you like he has no shame. Not even a little shy about having his tongue deep in your cunt. He tries different tricks - slow and sensual, rough, tight little flicks. He doesn't seem to care how you respond to any of it. It's more so an experiment to see which way he enjoys eating you out.

You cum on his tongue, your eyes screwed shut in guilt. You hope he won't notice, hope he'll just get bored and leave you alone.

He growls in a pleased sort of way, looking up at you with his mouth and chin slick. Oh, he definitely noticed.

You can't meet his eyes after that.

He's not a doomsday prepper. Or at least not exactly. But everything he has is off the grid. A house with its own solar panels and borehole, no technology except for his old fashioned satellite phone.

He doesn't talk much. Not even when he's fucking you. You might get the occasional good girl or a snarl for you to take it, take it just like that.

But he doesn't talk. Doesn't comfort you, doesn't insult you, doesn't even explain himself. (Though you suppose the way he holds you at night - tight, like you're going to be ripped away from him if he doesn't sink his claws in - is explanation enough).

He has money. Blood money you suppose. He doesn't go to work or leave the house much but still manages to buy you all sorts of expensive things. Silk negligees, satin panties, scented candles that melt into body oil. You aren't sure why he bothers. He's usually too impatient to appreciate any of it - most of the panties end up a torn, wet mess by the time he's done with you.

You look through his closet one day. There's a box full of military patches - Blackwater, Raytheon, MPR, a dozen more you don't recognise. And you know for a fact they aren't just some stupid collectibles, aren't there just so he can play out some militaristic power fantasy. He really worked for these companies. The patches feel real - their quality designed for hard weather and harder work. You understand him a little better after seeing them.

You don't know him. Don't recognise him in the slightest. He's a stranger to you - to the point you don't even know his name. At first you assume he took you because you were the only one stupid enough to get caught. But a few days with him and you realise that's not true at all. He knows you.

He feeds you your favourite cereal every morning, even though you can tell by his frown that he doesn't approve of your dietary choices. He has a closet packed full of your clothes. You thought he somehow raided your house but it's all new. He went out and bought exact copies of all your regular outfits, down to the tiny Victoria's Secret thongs that you like.

How? How could he gather so much information about your life while you didn't even realise you were being watched?

He takes you down to his basement one day, when you've been particularly insistent about asking him who he is. There are rows and rows of guns. Semi and fully automatic rifles, sniper rifles, shotguns. Shit you aren't even sure is fully legal.

You aren't sure why he's showing you this. Is he trying to scare you? Is he trying to goad you into escaping just so he'll have an excuse to punish you?

You look into his eyes - monster, monster in the shape of a man - and finally realise what he's trying to say.

No one is coming to save you. No one even knows where you are. But if by some slim chance they try and take you away, they'd better hope to be fucking bulletproof.

You stop asking him about himself after that.

He decides he wants anal one day in the shower. He's pressed up against your back and running his cock up and down between your ass. The tip keeps getting caught on your puckered entrance and maybe that's what puts the idea into his head.

You're too slow to realise what he's planning and he has one thick hand gripping the back of your neck before you can even think of running.

It's slow, painful going. He wants to shove himself in like he always does but the nature of it stops him. The tip is the worst part. You bite your lip so hard you can taste blood, your hands and tits both pressed up against the glass.

He presses his lips against your temple, watching your face screw up as he gets deeper.

"It's okay to cry."

There's a sick pleasure to his voice. He flicks your clit and your entire body clenches around him. He hums at that, amused and pleased.

And the worst part? He somehow makes you come. When he's finally loosened you up enough to start thrusting, he hits something deep inside you. He notices it - he notices everything about you. He laughs a little and slips his fingers into your pussy. That's all it takes to send you crashing over the edge, your whole body pulsing and aching all at once.

"That's what I like about you," he snarks into your ear when he's done, "I can make you come no matter how much you don't want it."

He turns you around and looks down at you. The expression on his face makes you want to vomit. He looks at you with a kind of loving softness. A tenderness that ignores all the awful, awful things he's done to you.

If you didn't realise it already, you knew it for a fact right then and there.

He's never going to let you go.

He takes your chin between his fingers and pulls you onto your tip toes to kiss him.

"Why?" you ask for the millionth time since he took you. And for once, he answers.

"Because I could. Because I can."