#was obsessed with it a couple years ago but in a depressed way

[wherethewaterstarts-andyouend]

.

[sophiamcdougall]

I am never going to complain about Greek Duolingo again

I mean, I am. But still.

So, as some of you know, my family has been coming to this tiny Greek seaside village for several years. Just over a week ago I came out here with my mum, under the impression that early September, after the height of the summer heat, would be a good time to have a holiday. ANYWAY Storm Daniel had other ideas about that. Locally things are improving (I'm actually really pissed off about the disaster-porn tone of most English-language media coverage, but that's another post). The power is back on, there's running water most of the time, and though the latter is not drinkable, a truck from the government came and handled out free bottled water yesterday. But we are currently kind of stuck. Can't do tourist things. Can't go home. There aren't any local flights out until Saturday and the road to Thessaloniki is still closed.

So this evening, feeling kind of aimless and depressed, I go down to the nearest beach with a couple of binbags and start cleaning up in an effort to at least do something positive. I always try to do this at least once out here and obviously, after the storm, there's a lot more plastic and rubbish than usual.

At some point I find this large, round bit of metal - some kind of machinery part, I think -- that's too big for the bag, so I take it to the bins on its own, leaving the rubbish bag on the beach. And when I come back for it, something among the stones beside it moves.

Specifically, it pulls its head sharply inside its shell

So, meanwhile I've been trying to learn some Greek with the help of Duolingo.

I currently have a 33-day streak and... I have questions. Shouldn't I be able to use the past or future tenses by now? Shouldn't I be able to say "x is like y"? I can't do those things. But one thing I absolutely can say all day long is έχω μια χελώνα : I have a turtle.

This is far from the limit of Duolingo Greek's turtle-related content. "An obsession with turtles" is my mother's characterisation. I can inform you that the turtle is not a bird, and, improbably, that the turtle is drinking milk. I can introduce you to a turtle in company with a horse and an elephant. As far as Duolingo is concerned, it really is turtles all the way down.

Now this, you may be able to see, is not a turtle. It has claws rather than flippers. It is a tortoise. I know there are wild tortoises in Greece: my aunt once rescued a pair of them shagging in the middle of the road -- but that was up in the mountains. I've even seen one myself, but it was also on a road and very dead.

I am 95% certain they don't belong on beaches. There's nothing for it to eat, except, unfortunately, a lot of plastic. Even if it gets off the beach it will immediately find itself on a road where it could get hit by a car. I'm pretty sure it must have been washed down by the floodwater and has been just sitting there, dazed, ever since.

Now obviously the first thing I want to do on encountering this unusual animal is to go and tell my mummy, so I do. The tortoise immediately brightens her day. She agrees that the tortoise is not happy on the beach and needs to be taken somewhere safe. it gets surprisingly wriggly when picked up so we put it in a carrier bag with some grapes and cucumber and go looking for somewhere to rehome it.

We find a path leading up between the houses towards a likely-looking field, but before we get very far a dog in a yard goes berserk and a man's head pops over a fence and demands to know what we're doing. He does this in English, as evidently we're just that obviously tourists.

"I found a tortoise on the beach!" I explain. "We want to find somewhere to put it."

"A what," he asks.

"It's like a, you know," I begin and then to my astonishment I find myself saying... "μια χελώνα"

"Oh! A turtle!" he says.

"But from the land. δεν είναι χελώνα", [it is not a turtle,] I say, as I am worried he will tell me to put it back near the sea where I found it. As it turns out it actually IS a χελώνα, Greek does not distinguish between turtles and tortoises, but I don't know that; I can't even name the days of the week or identify any colours other than pink yet, give me a break.

The man's entire demeanour changes and thaws. He does not worry about my turtle-that-is-not-a-turtle conundrum. He knows where οι χελώνες come from and where η χελώνα μας belongs. He leads us through a gate into a courtyard area.

"[somethingsomething] μια χελώνα," he explains to the assembled onlookers, of whom there are, suddenly, a surprising number.

"ΜΙΑ ΧΕΛΩΝΑ!!!" crows the throng of delighted small children, who are, suddenly, everywhere.

"μια χελώνα!" I agree, accepting that at least for current purposes, that is what it is.

"Μπορούμε να δούμε τη χελώνα σας; [can we see your turtle?]" asks an adorable little girl, shyly, and I understand??

The children fucking love looking at the χελώνα and showing it to them is kind of magical?

I finally put the tortoise down on the grass of this wild area off to the side of the courtyard, and marvel aloud that it is weird that I barely know any Greek except how to say μια χελώνα.

"I think she will soon run off," a kind lady called Aspasia assures me, seeing I remain slightly anxious about its fate. "I don't know why I'm saying 'she'. I suppose because χελώνα is feminine in Greek."

"Yes! I know that!" I exclaim, thrilled.

"Well done!" she says. And also she asks if we are OK for drinking water after the storm and if we need any help with anything and is just generally incredibly lovely and now we know more of the neighbours!

So "μια χελώνα" has just become, by a long way, my most-used and most understood and all-around most conversationally successful phrase in Greek. So I guess I have to admit I was wrong to doubt Duolingo's wisdom: it is correct to be obsessed with turtles. And I concede that prior to learning how to count to ten or to distinguish right from left, the simple ability to yell the word TURTLE over and over again is, it turns out, a crucial element of the responsible traveller's social skills.

(I am pretty fluent in Italian and turtles haven't come up in conversation even once?)

[gatitties]

War & crack II

—Task Force 141 x young!reader

—Summary: more headcanons with your team as you being chaotic

—Warnings: none

Part One / Halloween special

yeah, I didn't finish my brainstorm and I bring more things from this sudden idea 🫣

─ Listen, you have a lot of problems.

─ And we are not talking about your jokes about death biting your ass anymore.

─ Price's going to go bald before he retires, how the hell are you still alive today? It is a mystery to them.

─ Everyone noticed during a mission where they had to stay in a safe house for a few weeks that you had the same concentration as a fly, empty thoughts behind your eyes lost in a distant point of reality.

─ You looked like another person when you were a simple civilian, Gaz had to pull you so you wouldn't get run over a couple of times for not looking at the traffic lights.

─ Price needs to put on videos of crunchy slime or Subway Surfers so you could hear what he was saying, (Soap won't admit that it also helps him focus).

─ They discovered that you can sleep in any position, seriously, whether it's standing up, in the bathtub, your body bent in an unusual way, now they understand why you complain so much about back pain.

─ Everyone looks in silence when they give you little impulses to do stupid things, like, last time you were walking to see the area and you found a woman walking her dog, you asked her if you could pet it and when she said yes you pet the woman instead of the dog, Ghost dragged you away murmuring an apology.

─ The following days they decided that you would stay at home, they simply fed your stupidity, every time they arrived you received them with the phrase 'where have you been, loca?' while playing a wolf howl in the background.

─ Luckily it was time to return to the base, during the trip you were listening to music, despite having your headphones you had the volume so high that everyone could hear it, Soap stuck to you because he liked what you were listening, the others decided to drown out the noise with some light talk.

─ Once you returned to the base you relaxed, returning to your working state, you focused again, which relieved all.

─ One day they decided that you needed a nickname since everyone had it except you, so they began to investigate your record as a cadet and even your years in the military school.

─ You kicked and fought because you were something else a while ago, but it was inevitable to find an old report where it said that you were violent with some classmates.

─ And in your anger for probably some nonsense, you ended up biting the ankles of a guy, or a group of guys, or even one of your lieutenants...

─ Soap and Gaz cried with laughter because there was a video of what was evidenced and you looked like a rabid chihuahua attacking its worst enemy.

─ Nibbles, at least it was temporary because you didn't entirely agree with the nickname.

— Since you were now known like that, you went from friendly punches to friendly bites.

─ Once you got kidnapped and you returned to the base the next day because your captors couldn't stand having you sing old Justin Bieber songs or listening to you talk about all your obsessions, they tried to cover your mouth but you just kept making too much noise, the information was not worth it.

─ You arrived in the middle of the meeting they had to prepare the rescue, having the courage to enter the room asking who they were trying to rescuing.

─ Price casually replied that they were looking for you until he did a double take, realizing you were there.

─ You were buried in a mass of muscles after the realization.

─ When you're depressed at random times (because you don't understand how your brain works and you feel bad out of nowhere), everyone will quickly notice, like even though you're not the most talkative person all the time, you usually drop some stupid comment, but on your bad days you are simply a piece of flesh and bones that walks without knowing where it's going.

─ The first time they saw you like this they tried to do something to cheer you up, Price gave you a few days off hoping your mood wasn't due to work overload, he even wrote some of your reports.

─ Soap bought stickers and decorations to your liking to decorate your prosthesis, he also told you that he could draw you a design to have your personalized arm.

─ Gaz tried to talk to you but you just didn't want to open your mouth, he chose to just keep you silent company, maybe you hug him, you need a little physical support.

─ Ghost will leave objects scattered around knowing that you would find them, knowing that they were things that you liked or had been looking for (because the poor guy always has to pick up what you forget around the common room).

— Nothing seemed to work until a stray kitten snuck in and lit up your face, so the easy answer was any baby animal would brighten your day, it was free therapy.

— You once dyed the boys' clothes pink by accident, but at least you told them that now they could go see Barbie with you.

— You promised you'd take them to see Oppenheimer, and that's why they agreed.

— You created a group chat just to send shitpost and teach them the meme path.

— Price just leaves it on seen, Ghost has the group muted, Gaz answers from time to time and Soap is the most active, he learns fast about today's shitpost.

— You really resist the urge to trim Price's beard to make it heart-shaped.

— You use the radio to sing parts of songs when you take too long to jump into action, Price scolds you for it.

— You complain that he seems constantly in a bad mood and you open a profile for him on every dating app you know, even on Grindr.

— You found Ghost's profile browsing Tinder and Soap's profile on Grindr... you decided to use it as a weapon in case you needed any favors.

— Gaz caught you red-handed, but you made a deal and he wouldn't say anything if he can profit from the manipulation.

— You hide it like you're hiding war crimes.

— Why does Price have so many likes from single moms?

[mr2swap]

The great shift: Swap Sindrome 1

In a dimly lit room, I was masturbating with my fingertips in front of a pale white monitor. As I watched the images of boys around the age of high school students lined up on the screen, I fantasized about taking off their clothes and touching their naked bodies.

-ahh, ahh… ahh-

I closed my eyes as I fantasized about the scenes that were still etched in my memory, the memories of my body and my Gymbros in the locker room flooded my mind, At this moment there was nothing erotic about looking at my best friends or touching their oily and muscles to feel The Progress we had made in the gym, but now it was different, I was different.

I continued looking at the photographs that were shown on the Instagram profiles of my former friends, while the desperation and excitement with which I moved My small cock increased more and more.

I kept changing the photos until a photograph of my old body was displayed on the entire screen. I enlarged the photograph just so I could rotate the most erotic parts of my old body. I focused my gaze on the armpits that still had a couple of drops of stinky and sticky sweat running down towards my abdomen.

-FUUUCK! What I wouldn't give to smell those musky holes again-

The shameful and perverted words that came out of my mouth really embarrassed me, but right now I had no control over myself the only thing I wanted was to fantasize about my old hairy armpits, lick his hard biceps and play with his grazed nipples, The memory of the last time I could smell a sweaty t-shirt from my original body made me ejaculate violently, the semen spread across the keyboard of the old computer that was in front of me.

At that moment my head cleared, from one moment to the next the animal instincts that dominated me a few seconds ago immediately disappeared... and then only remorse.

I took a piece of paper that was within my reach and began to clean up the mess that I had caused myself. When I finished cleaning my little cock, I threw the ball of paper into the trash can that was saturated with balls identical to that one in a yellowish color. And they left a disgusting smell in my room.

I stood up, pulled up my pants and slowly walked towards the kitchen, avoiding looking at my fat old face on the relevant surfaces that were in my messy apartment. After doing this, I feel disgusting, but no matter how hard I try to stop thinking about my old life and in my old body.

-The swap syndrome…-

I said quietly trying to justify my depraved obsession with my old life, I had all the symptoms I had read on the internet:

“ Swap syndrome is a disorder characterized by a persistent and overwhelming obsession with a person's past life after experiencing a body swap with another. This syndrome manifests itself when two individuals involuntarily exchange their bodies thanks to the event known as “The great shift.”

People affected by SS experience intense longing and nostalgia for their previous life. They feel a deep disconnection from their new body and struggle to adapt to their new physical identity. Meanwhile, they constantly long to return to their old lives, including their relationships, daily routines, and everyday activities.

Symptoms of SS may include episodes of obsessional love, masturbation, anxiety, depression, and dissociation, as well as a decrease in social and occupational functioning. Affected people may manifest compulsive behaviors related to the search for ways to reverse the body exchange and recover their previous life.“

I've been trapped in the body of this overweight middle-aged man named Hiroshi for two years, and one day I just woke up in a room full of trash and on the other side of the world. It had been a few hours since all this had started So it was easy I searched what was happening on the internet I tried to contact my parents, but none of them responded to me even now I haven't seen my parents after so long, maybe they have They've gotten better bodies and now they're having fun. Or maybe they're in one of the many prisons trapped in the body of some convict, I don't know...

At least they can put me in contact with the Old Hiroshi who was now on the beach in Miami enjoying that new teenage body. At first, we wrote to each other every day, trying to go unnoticed among all the chaos of the world. I had to eat. So I decided. Not to tell anyone that he was actually a 16-year-old American teenager instead of a Japanese man my father's age.

The real Hiroshi helped me adjust to my new life, while I naively believed that this was something that would be resolved in a couple of days. But over time I got used to my new job in a restaurant as a dishwasher, I didn't understand the language very well. , but he didn't need it, the real Hiroshi was a quiet and submissive guy, Very different from what the real Hiroshi is like in his new life, as a popular teenager. That he spends his afternoons tanning on the beach and flirting with beautiful girls.

I used to talk to the real Hiroshi every day, but over time he took longer to respond to the messages, then to look at them and just not respond and over time he started ignoring my calls, now the only thing I know is because of the photographs I uploads to Instagram and social networks of my former friends, I didn't dare tell them the truth, that their former friend was now trapped in the body of a 45 year old obese loser…

I've been saving everything I can to be able to travel back to America and reunite with my old life. Although the salary as a dishwasher is shit, it's better than nothing, but once I'm in front of my old body I don't know if I can control myself... look down and a tiny bulge formed again in my pants from just being in front of my old body.

-Shit….-

Hello, if you liked this story, and you want more, you can take a look at my new Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

[about-faces]

Last night, I was once again struggling to actually write smut for a Harvey/Bruce/Gilda fic, when I noticed a very timely new guest comment on my Gilda fic, Bust. It was the first truly critical response I’ve gotten so far, and while that sort of thing would normally send me into a depressive tizzy, I actually found it really interesting!

So instead of actually writing the ship, as I should have been, I wanted to take this opportunity to think about just why the heck I shipped them in the first place.

Here’s how I responded, with added scans to hopefully better illustrate my point, plus some additions that occurred to me upon drafting this post:

I’m actually glad you raised this point, because I would have felt the exact same as you just a few years ago!

I’m gray-asexual, and I used to be a bit bothered by the rise of Bruce/Harvey shippers, because it was their canonical platonic FRIENDSHIP that mattered so much to me. I gradually warmed up to the shippers, because 1.) I realized I was ace and they probably weren’t, and 2.) they at least understood the importance of Bruce and Harvey’s bond, which is more than I can say for LOTS of official DC media.

Still, something bugged me about the ship, and I realized what it was: the lack of Gilda from the equation. She’s always been deeply important to me, especially her scant older appearances, and erasing her for a Bruce/Harvey ship (even one I’d come to appreciate) didn’t sit right with me.

But like you said, it’s not canon, and I’ve always been deeply invested in canon, even the stuff that’s frustrating and contradictory. So yeah, the throuple would have bugged me too.

Except! It all depends on WHICH canon you’re talking about!

So over the past 15 years, I’ve been obsessed with tracking down the entirety of the obscure, forgotten Batman newspaper comic strip from 1989-1991. I’ve posted the entire thing at @batman-daily, and I strongly encourage you to check it out. A couple years ago, I reread it and noticed something really interesting: the remarkable relationship between Bruce, Harvey, and the latter’s wife, Alice, who is Gilda in every way but name. They are all mutual friends, with Alice even going to visit Bruce alone to help/bully him to take care of himself.

It all reads like a perfect long-game setup for a love triangle, or for Harvey—having become Two-Face—to go after his loved ones in a jealous rage, like he did in Paul Dini’s “Two-Timer,” a story which notably showed that Grace had feelings for Bruce.

With that in mind, consider the final story arc of the newspaper strip, wherein Bruce acknowledges his OWN feelings for Alice and PASSIONATELY KISSES HER, all in a hilariously roundabout way to save her marriage to Harvey! It makes sense in context and is frankly hilarious.

And it works! Because Harvey isn’t jealous! The love triangle conflict you expect NEVER HAPPENS! Because they all love one another! And that love saves Harvey in the very end!

Was it explicitly a throuple? No, but nor have Bruce and Harvey ever canonically touched dicks. And yet the love between Bruce and Harvey in canon is true and real enough that shippers who want to make it sexual are perfectly allowed to do so, because it’s the love that matters. At least, for those of us who aren’t afraid to acknowledge the love between men, platonic or otherwise. And that love is rooted in canon.

So consider this: the mutual three-way-love between Bruce, Harvey, and Alice/Gilda is ALSO canon. That comic strip has been officially accepted as DC multiverse canon in the “Crisis on Infinite Earths: Absolute Edition,” which designated it as Earth-1289.

Furthermore, there’s something else you need to consider: the fact that Harvey HAS been used in love triangles against Bruce in several stories in recent decades. I already mentioned “Two-Timer,” but there’s also Nolan’s “The Dark Knight,” the animated “Gotham By Gaslight” film, and the Telltale game. In various ways, these stories serve to throw a wedge in the friendship between Bruce (the protagonist, whose story serves him) and Harvey (the guy who is going to lose it all, the woman included). I hate that shit. I hate the contrived drama that’s meant to stir up needless added conflict between two men who love each other.

And then, on the other hand, you have Mariko Tamaki’s Gilda story from “Batman: Black and White.” Tamaki depicted Harvey and Gilda being in a distant, loveless marriage, where even on their wedding day, he was constantly ignoring her in favor of work. The only person who could actually get his attention was Bruce.

At the time, this felt an awful lot like that problem I was talking about with the Bruce/Harvey shippers: raising up the gay ship while throwing the woman under the bus. In this case, for the purpose of doing an avenging girlboss take on Gilda. I hated that too, especially when Tamaki didn’t even follow through with the gay subtext in her next, miserable Two-Face comic.

You know that meme of a bride, groom, and best man all kissing one another, while the bride flips off the cameraman in the end? @whipbogard redrew the Tamaki wedding scene as that meme, right around the time I reread the comic strip. And suddenly, everything clicked into place for me.

After a lifetime of never, ever having any serious fandom ships, I fell in love with the idea of Bruce/Harvey/Gilda. Take what the comic strip did and bring it into the mainstream canon I love to spite the canon I hate.

In those great old Gilda stories, she saw through Harvey’s bullshit and knew how to reach him, however temporarily. She could do the same with Bruce. She’d be a valuable third voice for the ongoing toxic relationship between Bruce and Harvey, the one who could love them both while also getting to be frustrated with how fucking stupid and fucked-up both these men are.

Before she was reduced to a ride-or-die killer housewife in "The Long Halloween" (which, I'll grant you, has its own appeal), classic Gilda would actually stand up to Harvey and tell him to cut out his shit or else. I love the idea that she can also see right through Bruce, understanding how very alike he and Harvey are, even if they don't want to admit it.

Writing Gilda this way speaks to me as a longtime fan of both men, while also wanting to try to develop her place, as a woman stuck in the middle of their decades' worth of conflict and angst. She sees these men at their best, worst, and most pathetic/ridiculous, and while she's got the nerve to stand up for herself and call them out as needed, she still loves them nonetheless. For me, Gilda has become the voice for fans just like me, who are helpless to stop Batman and Two-Face from continuing the cycle of violent, toxic friendship, but still loving them nonetheless, and always hoping for the best.

So, at this point, let’s say I’ve at least managed to make you grudgingly accept my reasoning for the relationship. Even if that’s true, I’m gonna guess that the mention of a threesome felt like it came out of left field. I can’t argue with that. I wanted to actually write that as its own smutfic but, being ace, I struggle with that. But I really liked the idea, and as I was writing this, it just really wanted to be mentioned, so I included it.

The response has been positive (until now), which indicated to me that I had been successful in introducing Gilda as a viable third into a slice of fandom which had only shipped Bruce and Harvey. This is fanfic, after all, such things are expected, even encouraged, so I leaned into it.

Now, if I were ever (un?)fortunate enough to write for DC, officially? I doubt I’d have the nerve to go that far. But I’d still want to at least embrace the polycule-coded relationship between those three that we saw in the newspaper comic strip. I think it adds a whole new, refreshing spin on their ongoing dynamics, while being rooted in relationships that were established all the way back in 1942 by Bill Finger.

Finger’s story, at its heart, was all about how love can save a life. How love is the only way to defeat the villain. For Harvey Kent’s part, Gilda’s love was every bit as important as Batman’s unwillingness to give up on his friend. So I’m just taking it one step further within the freedom allowed me by fanfic.

Sorry for the length of the reply, but as you can see, I only came to this shit after several decades of thinking about 80+ years of official material. I hope I have at least been able to lessen your feelings of being jarred out of a story you otherwise seemed to appreciate. For my part, I hope to further develop the potential of this fucked-up polycule in future stories, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll be able to get you on board too. Hope to see you then!

(art by ofossart)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for breaking up with my kind-of girlfriend to have a chance with my childhood sweetheart?

So I (25 bisexual M) was with my childhood sweetheart, X, (25 gay M) for about ten years, so 14-24 years old. X was a massive part of my life and we always used to say that we’d be together forever and everything, and that we’d get married someday.

Around a year ago X got offered the job of his dreams, like this would be the pinnacle of his career, and long story short he was adamant that long distance wouldn’t work for us and so we broke up and X left.

I went through a depressive episode and had some issues with alcohol but ultimately I recovered and that was mainly thanks to a girl that I’ve known since childhood as well, I’ll call her A (24F). There was an instance when X and I decided to explore our sexualities while still dating at around 16 and I slept with A as an experiment (I’m aware this was a shitty thing to do but I was 16 and wasn’t thinking). She’s also wedding-obsessed and wants to get married asap so she can have kids. So A and I dated casually for a bit after my recovery and throughout I made it clear to her that X was still my priority and that if he came back I would leave her for him. She wasn’t happy about this but dated me anyway.

After about six months I decided I wanted to commit to A and I proposed to her, promising that even if X returned I would never cheat on her because she’d be my wife. She said no because she’d still be “emotionally second place” and told me that another friend of hers had offered to marry her, and that they’d been flirting for a bit. She confessed that she’d initially done it to make me jealous (because I HATE this guy, we have history of fights and homophobia towards me and X and just a lot of drama) but she’d slowly fallen for him. A left me for him and they got married.

I dated a bit, etc etc, then one night I got a message from X that fucked me up, not even really saying anything but it just reminded me. I drank, even though I’d been clean for months, and I called A and one thing led to another and we had sex. (A is still married by the way, her husband had no clue.)

She realises she’s pregnant just over a month later and we have a discussion and she tells me she’s always wanted me and she’s deciding to leave her husband for me. It’s all lovey dovey and seems a bit naive and not very well thought out but hey I might get a wife out of it.

Couple of weeks later when A has just started to discuss divorce with her lawyer (but not mentioned it to her husband), X comes back, and I tell A that our plans are off. Even if I can’t be with X again, I realised that I feel like triple what I feel for A when I look at X. It’s just not fair to her. She has a husband and a stable family to raise the kid, and I’ll help as much as she’ll let me, but I can’t be with her. We had a screaming argument and she called me an asshole, so… what do you think??

What are these acronyms?

[crippleprophet]

Is it okay for people with agoraphobia to look and take some of the advice you have for housebound people on here? I'm not really great at picking up nuance so I'm worried that it'd be crossing some boundary or that it's not the intention of the tag

that’s completely okay, i appreciate your desire to be respectful even though i’m sorry you were concerned! i absolutely consider folks with agoraphobia my comrades + community members and i’d be super honored if anything i’ve shared is helpful (+ am always interested in hearing what that was if you’re comfortable!) the rest of this is not anything you need to answer your question, just thoughts i’ve been having on the subject

i haven’t had the opportunity to talk to enough homebound [due to chronic illness / “physical” reasons] people to know if this is a common experience but for me i’ve noticed that similar to chronic illness often carrying depression with it, since becoming homebound i’ve become terrified of leaving the house.

this is definitely influenced by the fact that it’s untenably painful, my photosensitivity (in the UV sense not the epilepsy sense), the ongoing pandemic, the fact that i only left the house to go to the doctor for over a year & i’m afraid of the doctors appointment itself due to medical trauma, etc etc but like. there’s also the very strong pull of habit – i’m an incredibly obsessive & ritualistic person – and what Goffman refers to as “the relief of self-isolation” for marginalized people sheltering from a hostile society, a phrase i read in undergrad 5 1/2 years ago that’s stuck with me ever since for how profoundly it resonates.

i’m not trying to say these are necessarily your or any other person with agoraphobia’s feelings & experiences, more to illustrate how the liberation of all homebound people & shut-ins & hermits is bound up together; any sanist strategy for oppressing agoraphobes can easily be leveraged against me, not least because as a severely underdiagnosed person, the medical establishment does not think there is any “legitimate” “physical” reason for me to be homebound. to respond to this oppression by arguing it’s inapplicable because i’m not crazy would be untrue + a cruel act of lateral violence.

i’ve been reading a lot of butch/femme history recently (i post about that on my main @campgender; followers age 18+ only please) & have found myself entirely reconfiguring my understanding of the queer art of isolation, the incredible ability of our ancestors to hunker down & survive under circumstances unimaginable to the average person. i absolutely don’t want to deny the deep pain – not only the aspects i experience but also the heightened isolation of people without or before internet access + the ways these circumstances / forms of oppression can foster abuse –

but my god, so many 50s butches didn’t leave their homes during daylight hours for years in order to not be hate crimed for their gender presentation, & that’s the folks who were making it to the bars. so many others – “discreet” couples who didn’t want to risk being outed by engaging in queer community; people assigned female who “passed” as men & their partners; butch sex workers & other people with identities perceived as contradictory or unacceptable – existed marginalized by both queer & normative communities.

every time i think substantially about homeboundedness i always get tracy chapman’s “subcity” stuck in my head. obviously my access to housing period is a huge position of privilege, & i’m in the most economically secure position of my adult life so far; the abjection i experience is nowhere near the scale of people in the position of the speaker of the song, who’s implied to be street homeless. but the line “people say it doesn’t exist ‘cause no one would like to admit that there is a city underground” is such a succinct & accurate depiction of living the kind of life society tries to convince itself is impossible. but there truly is a rich genealogy of homeboundedness especially in queer history.

again i hope some of my posts & such are helpful / resonant! wishing you all the best 💓💓

[n1ghtman]

could you possibly do a kinda dark Charlie Kelly x female reader smut , where Charlie is obsessed with the reader like he was with the waitress and the reader feels bad for him and finally gives him a chance I could see him being really whiney and excited!!

PICKING UP A STRAY

summary: on your way home from work, you catch charlie outside your apartment complex in the rain. you don’t have the heart to tell him to go home.

pairing: charlie kelly x reader

cws: reader has a 9-5 job, reader is implied to be broke/struggling, afab terminology, reader has a bra, i imagined reader as a lady as per request but technically reader’s gender isn’t really specified, stalking, premature cumming, charlie unintentionally overstimulating himself, charlie is very unhygienic, bad sex but it’s okay reader fixes it, “making love,” charlie is a closet pervert, reader and charlie are both pathetic in their own ways, charlie is EXTRA pathetic though, panty sniffing, panty stealing, the year is ambiguous so you’re free to picture whatever season you want, excessive plot before porn, plot holes i’m sure but reader HAS to be insane for this to work, reader is bitchless, charlie is nervous and excited, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), not really proof read

wc: about 6k

reblogs appreciated!

5:08 PM

ON A FRIDAY

the ten minute drive home from work was always a little depressing. you didn’t exactly live in a comfortable area in the city, and it only looked more gloomy in the dark, gloomy rain; the further you got from the bustling heart of the city and closer to your humble apartment, the more the reality of your life brought down your mood. the music humming in your car does it’s best to drown out the harsh patter of rain hitting your roof, but it wasn’t enough to truly distract you. you pull into your usual parking spot outside of your apartment building, aching to just get inside and rot inside your bed. at least you got to leave work a few minutes earlier than usual.

stepping out of your car, you grimace slightly as the rain waits no time in soaking you. you’re quick to slam your car door shut and lock the vehicle, before making haste to your apartment building. you wrap your arms around yourself, hoping your light jacket will spare you even just a little. you’re approaching your door when you see it — him, actually.

“charlie?” you stop, squinting. in contrast, he looks like a deer caught in headlights as he whips around; he stands straight, the bushes he stands in catching on his worn out jeans. even drenched in rain, you could recognize charlie a mile away — after all, he was your non-threatening stalker. it was a long story, really, but it’s important to recap. it’s important because, while he was non-threatening (for now), he was still stalking you. sometimes, you wouldn’t see him for weeks, and would almost forget the amount of times you’ve changed apartments.

it all started about two years ago. while you were working at an old service job, charlie was your customer. he was with two of his friends, and you were polite — that was your job. to be polite. a job that you really needed at the time, and so, you always did your best with customer service, no matter how rude or strange a customer was. maybe you were a little too good at it, because it had certainly left a lasting impression on charlie. he kept showing up by himself after that — most of the time, he wouldn’t actually order anything. he’d only linger, making various poor attempts at conversation with you; which, of course, since it was your job, you had to offer polite conversation back. people hitting on you at work is always an awkward situation, especially when the person doesn’t directly ask you out, leaving you unable to verbally reject them. maybe charlie knew you would, and so he never gave you the opportunity.

it went on like that for a couple of weeks. after that, you’d see him less and less. it didn’t stop, but it was no longer a daily occurrence. another few weeks went by before you started noticing some odd things — your hair was suddenly much nicer than usual, which was odd considering your cheap shampoo and conditioner. the outside of your car looked less and less dirty, as if you started regularly taking it to the cleaner — which you certainly did not do. you’d suddenly have extras of basic necessities laying around, ones that you swore you were running low on. maybe your memory was playing tricks on you, but you couldn’t help but feel weird about it.

you finally found out the reason behind these things one day while you were getting out of the shower. you had gone to your room to get dressed, only in a towel, when you saw a figure move down the hall in your small apartment. at first, you froze — then, you grabbed the nearest blunt force object available, and carefully tip toed towards the opening of the fall, which lead to the open concept entrance, living room and kitchen. there, you saw a disheveled figure struggling to prop open your kitchen window. you had yelled, with a shaky voice, for the person to freeze and turn around — what were you, a cop? no matter, when they had, you saw him. and that was when you discovered that charlie had been meddling with your life in secret. he argued that he was helping it, but you weren’t so sure you could get behind the idea.

after that, you moved out as quickly as you could. rent around city had gone up, unfortunately, leaving you with little options; you ended up somewhere shitty, and stayed like that until it started happening again. and the process repeated, until you eventually ended up where you lived now. why didn’t you go to the police? it was complicated — sure, charlie was bothersome and a delusional freak, but he really wasn’t violent. he was the most consistent part of your life the past two-ish years. you also didn’t technically have any proof, and people often ignore cases like this until it was too late. the police just felt like a waste of time. you really should have gone, though.

“uh—“ charlie’s squeaky voice brings you back to reality. what a strange reality you lived in. his stance was stiff and rigid, clearly uncomfortable. and likely from much more than just the rain. “you’re… home early.”

“what are you doing here?” you ask with a pinch between your brows. you already know the answer. well, you had a few guesses, anyways. he’ll spill his guys anyways. he had a bad habit of rambling when he’s caught.

“well, uh— i was just… stopping by. wanted to see if your new place was… safe.” he answers, awkwardly playing with his hands and adding on a fake, airy chuckle to the end of his words. that was another habit of his; downplaying what he was doing to a causal, chill explanation. you clearly don’t look impressed, and he falters. he looks like a kicked puppy. or, a drowned rat — he goes to speak again, but you cut him off.

“how long have you been out here, charlie?” you already feel cold, and you’ve only been in the rain a few moments. he looks like a complete mess. you knew charlie didn’t live lavishly — he didn’t have to tell you. if you couldn’t tell by his barely held together clothes, or the sickly complexion of his skin, you’d at least smell his ungodly odor. maybe him out in the rain was good. like a bath.

his eyes widen at your question. he looks aside for a moment, nervously chuckling. “ahh—“ he waves a dismissive hand; “don’t worry about it.” he says, because he thinks you’re creeped out by the prospect of him hanging around outside your windows. he hates to cut this short, because he really wanted to get to know your new place better, but he supposes it’ll just have to wait for another day. he would have just broken in like he usually did, but with all the rain and mud, he would have left too obvious of a trail. he had started to learn how to be real sneaky early on.

again, you stare at him with an unimpressed expression. he hates when you look at him like that. he misses that cute customer service smile you used to always flash at him. you were one of the only people that made him feel like an actual human being. in a poor attempt to save face, he goes to start again, and you once again cut him off.

“c’mon.” you grumble, nodding towards your apartment door. it’s rainy and cold and maybe it was messing with your judgement, because you’re inviting your stalker inside. he looks surprised, too, but he stumbles out of the bushes and follows you inside. you aren’t 100% sure why you’re inviting him in — he just looked so… pathetic. for some reason, you didn’t like seeing him look like that, and you certainly didn’t like the idea of him walking home in this weather. after all, you practically moved to the other side of the city where you first met him. you wanted to get away from him. and yet, you were letting him inside your home.

charlie clumsily reaches down to take off his beaten up sneakers after he watches you step out of your shoes. the rain outside clearly wasn’t a good enough bath, because now that you were inside with him, you could still smell… him. you try not to cringe, and he seems to not be self aware of his odor. he looks quite happy for a guy that was soaked to the bone. his gaze doesn’t stay on you for long, wandering instead to look around your apartment. it wasn’t very homey yet, as you moved recently, but anything that was yours he loved.

“do you want to take a shower?” you ask after a moment, trying to not be flat out rude, but also desperately needing the man to wash if he was going to stay until the rain passed. plus, you didn’t want him to get sick — maybe you can toss his clothes in the dryer? he perks up at your offer, and you can see the affection in his eyes. you weren’t sure what else to call it. any display of kindness you showed seemed to be just another nail to the coffin.

“really?” could this night get any better? when you tentatively nod, he grins — you lead him to the bathroom, and give him a general guide; letting him know any quirks of the shower, since it wasn’t exactly well kept before you had gotten there. you didn’t have very fancy products, but you got him a wash cloth he could use with the soap and such — there was already a few towels in there, and while you’d debate burning whichever ones he uses after, the premise of him not stinking up your apartment was enough to get by. you leave him to do his business, and you decide to get changed in your room. while you didn’t stay in the rain nearly as long as charlie did, you were still pretty wet. afterwards, you head to the kitchen — when you pass by the bathroom, you hear awful singing.

you remember that you were going to put his clothes in the dryer. right. you hesitate before knocking on the bathroom door — you hear nothing back, and sigh through your nose. of course, he didn’t lock the door, and so you were able to just open it. the shower curtain is thick, so you couldn’t see him, but a loud gasp pulls from him as if he could.

“just getting your clothes — i’m putting them in the dryer,” you say quickly, and grab the mentions items from ontop of the closed toilet lid; he lets out a little *oh, okay, * and you don’t stick around. you close the door behind you, and head over to the corner where you crammed your washing machine and dryer. since it’s only a few items, it shouldn’t take too long. you doubt his shower will be terribly long, either. still, you have time to kill; why not make supper?

you keep it simple, with a classic box mac and cheese, because fuck cooking after work. you take your time as you get plates and such together, before actually grabbing a box to cook up — it’s a few minutes later that you hear the bathroom door open.

coming down the hallway is a slightly wet, but surely cleaner charlie; he walks into the space with one of your towels messily wrapped around his waist. you can see some remaining droplets of water rolling down his abdomen, getting trapped in his poorly maintained happy trail, and —

“you’re cooking?” he sounds much jollier than he usually did. you blink, and quickly meet his gaze. there was no way you were just distracted by charlie — well, you haven’t been with anyone in… awhile, so, surely that explains it!

“y—yeah,” you clear your throat a little; “just mac and cheese. uh… your clothes will be dry soon, i think. sorry about…” you trail off, and gesture to the towel. “that.”

he glances down and chuckles. “nah, can’t complain.” his cheeks are a little flustered. “thanks for letting me shower.”

“no problem…” you almost mumble, bringing your attention back to the mac and cheese. you didn’t want to start ogling him again like a freak. were you really so lonely and starved of male attention that… *charlie * had you feel some type of way?

around when you finish up cooking, the dryer goes off. charlie snags his clothes, and heads to the bathroom to change. you can’t help but eye him as he walks down the hall. you were practically asking to be murdered, weren’t you? you take out two plates, serving food on both and placing them on your dainty kitchen table; charlie shouldn’t take too long, and so you decide to start without him.

“heyyy-yo!” charlie greets as he comes back in, now dressed in, not quite clean, but at least not soaked clothes. you swallow down the food in your mouth, perking up a little — you can’t help but look him over. you never thought charlie was particularly bad looking, only extraordinarily disheveled at all times; he didn’t clean up half bad.

“hi,” you eventually reply, and gesture to the seat in front of you. “i made mac and cheese.”

“holy shit, really?” his eyes light up and he makes his way over with haste. pulling out the chair across from you, he plops down and doesn’t really bother to tuck himself in under the table. he grabs a utensil with an overzealous carelessness, and you can’t help but wonder when the last time he ate was from how he starts to eat.

“uh… no one’s gonna take it away from you,” you try to joke, but your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and there’s a pinch between your brows. from this close, you can see his still damp hair start to drip.

charlie looks up at you through his eyelashes and away from the food. an airy, small chuckle falls from his lips. “ah, yeah…” he seems almost self conscious, but he makes little effort to change, aside from straightening up a bit. “i just haven’t had a proper cooked meal in awhile.”

you blink, because your boxed mac and cheese was most certainly not a ‘proper cooked meal.’ you knew a lot of random trivia about charlie, from his early day visits. to keep conversation going, he would unpromptedly share facts about himself. they tended to be drawn out, poorly explained facts, though. you’re beginning to realize that, in the big picture, you don’t know much about his actual life.

“well…” you start again, unsure of what to say. “i’m glad you like it.”

“like it? i love it!” he compliments, taking a generous bite. “you’re a super amazing cook, i mean —“ he swallows; “seriously.”

you try to not notice his poor table manners, because it wasn’t like you were exactly classy yourself. you look down at yourself and your shitty work clothes. with a small, hardly audible sigh, you thank him and continue to eat. dinner carries on; charlie makes various attempts at conversation, and you do your best to keep up with his random thought process. it’s hard to not stare during his tangents — he was, admittedly, passionate. it was endearing, when it really shouldn’t have been.

as the pair of you finish up eating, you can still hear the rain tap against your windows. the realization that you may just be stuck with charlie all night is starting to sink in, and you still have no idea what your plan is. you had let charlie in on a sympathetic, impulsive whim. you didn’t exactly have a spare bedroom in your dingy apartment.

“thanks for the food,” he says, and if you didn’t know anything about his mother, it would seem uncharacteristically polite. you only nod, and awkwardly stand to grab his plate and yours. you can feel his eyes on you as you place them in the sink — you’ll clean those later, you think. you glance over your shoulder, and charlie only smiles. you try your best to offer one back.

“so…” you trail off, turning to face him and leaning back against the counter. he makes no attempt to add on, and can’t help but squint a little.

“wanna watch, like, tv or something?” you suggest, and his eyes widen.

“oh, shit, you got cable?” he grins, and you open your mouth to confirm, but he’s starting again; “yeah, yeah, we should watch tv!” he stands up from your table, and clumsily tucks it back in. you lead him to your living room, and the two of you do your best to get comfortable on your not so impressive couch.

this close, you can smell your shampoo on him. you can only imagine his body smells like your soap. blinking hard, you reach for the remote and flick through channels until you find some romcom that was in decent quality. throughout the movie, charlie makes some unfunny commentary, which you hardly have the energy to even fake laugh at. when the male lead finally works up the courage to kiss the female lead, there’s a sudden silence in the room. out of the corner of your eye, you can feel him staring — again. you glance over, and this time, he’s not smiling. he looks almost dazed.

“… charlie?” you question slowly, squinting and leaning back a little. you’re suddenly very aware of just how close you two are. he isn’t meeting your gaze, though — instead, it looks like he’s looking down at your lips, his own slightly parted. your brows furrow.

“char—” you start again, a little exasperated. he cuts you off, mirroring what he saw on screen moments ago. your eyes nearly pop out of your head as he presses his lips against your own. a vague noise of protest rumbles in your mouth, and he only takes the opportunity to, as best as you can put it, eat your face.

you promptly push him back, your hands planted firmly on his chest. he looks confuses, eyes wide and his brows stitched up and together. there’s a little bit of a rosy hue on his otherwise pale cheeks.

“what the fuck was that?” you ask, but your voice is much softer than you expected it to be. you should be angry — furious, really. you can feel your heart pound against your ribs, and in the dim lighting of the living room, you can’t help but notice how handsome he looks as he tentatively apologizes.

what the fuck were you thinking?! this is the guy who had been harassing you. sure, he argued he was making your life better, always looking out for you — something no other guy has ever really done. the dating scene in the city was six feet under, really. a guy even planning a date was a one in a million chance. your friends insisted guys were just intimidated by you, but the last couple of years had been notably lonely. other than…

something in you was changing, and you wish you could blame it on alcohol. the hands flared out on his chest, move to grip his shirt, and you tug him back in for another kiss. this time, it was his turn to make a sound of surprise, but he settles into the kiss much faster than you did.

the hands holding onto the fabric of his shirt move to the back of his neck, your fingers sliding into his still damp, dark hair. you can feel his hands grip your waist, and there’s an underlying uncertainty in the touch — you can tell he isn’t so sure about what was happening, but he’s kissing you all the same. you’re kissing him. he was most certainly not your ideal hookup candidate, but dick was dick and you were really struggling to remember the last time you got that.

“uh—“ you can feel his nervous chuckle against your lips as you start to climb into his lap. pulling back, you look at him — he looks at you like you put the each and every star in the sky, and you still aren’t entirely sure why.

“is… is this okay?” charlie asks, swallowing thickly. you squint a little, because you don’t want to talk about it. this has to be in your top five worst choices made — sleeping with your stalker? seriously?

so, instead, you just nod and lean back in to kiss him again. he seems more confident this time, practically hugging you closer; he’s surprisingly warm. your lips messily mesh against his — you don’t feel any need to impress him, which was … actually pretty nice. if anything, he should be trying to impress you!

he does — as you grind down against his crotch mid-makeout, he wraps an arm under you and flips the both of you. the kiss breaks as you lay back, eyes widening. he leans over you, your legs hooked over his hips. if the lighting was better, you’d see how blown out his pupils were.

charlie presses his lips against yours again, but it’s more like a peck. his lips wander, and he kisses along your cheek in haste as he shrugs off his jacket, letting it fall down besides the couch. you cringe a little as he sucks at the edge of your jaw, a little too close to your ear lobe. you can feel yourself start to grow wet nonetheless. a hefty sigh pushes through your nose at the feeling.

none the wiser, charlie mistakes your sigh for a sound of pleasure and smiles to himself. he can’t even remember the amount of times he’s jacked off to this idea — let alone to the lingering scent you left on your pillows when you weren’t around, the panties you left in your laundry bin, your used washcloth from the shower you had that morning — his pants feel awfully tight now.

“you…” he starts again, his voice a little breathy. “you — you do want this, right?” he asks, an excited undertone to his words. the hands on your waist inch down to the edge of your shirt, and you know he wants to take it off. so, you do it for him — you sit up a little, peel your shirt off, and let it fall by his jacket.

“yeah…” you practically mumble, and you aren’t sure if he’s really listening. he seems to have no shame as he stares at your bra-covered chest. you can’t help but raise your eyebrows. “hello?”

“oh, oh— yeah, yeah. yes?” he shakes his head, gaze flickering between your face and your breasts. his tongue darts out, swiping across his bottom lip, and you bite yours.

you feel his hands reach behind you, and they unclasp your bra. he doesn’t struggle with it as much as you’d expect. well, if you consider all the locks of yours he’s picked, maybe it makes a little more sense. he drops it to the growing pile of clothes.

he leans back on his knees as he looks down. “wow—“ you almost miss it with how quietly he mumbles, and his hands come to cup your breasts.

“hey—“ you distract him, and he looks at you. your hands tug at the bottom of his shirt. “come on.”

“oh, right, right. sorry,” he chuckles, reluctantly removing his hands from your chest to tug his shirt up and over his head. he smiles down at you, and you really notice his crows feet. he presses a kiss to your lips again, and then to your chin; the kisses are quick to trail down your neck, and then the valley between your breasts.

“i’ve waited so long for this—“ he confesses against your skin, as if you don’t know. you inhale softly as his lips stop at the top of your pants. he looks up at you through his lashes; “can i…?”

you nod, and he leans back on his knees. he unbuttons the button of your pants, and unzips them. tugging them down with an underlying desperation, he stares intently at your underwear while he tosses your pants aside. you feel almost insecure at his staring, but before you can comment, he moves.

charlie lowers himself, lower and lower, until he’s face to face with your clothed cunt. his nose, probably unknowingly, presses against your clit and he takes an excessively long inhale.

“charlie.*” you cringe, your hips involuntarily arching in an attempts to get away from his bizarrely embarrassing interest. he pulls back, looking up at you.

“sorry,” he says with a loose smile, and you can tell he doesn’t really know what it was he was even apologizing for. he leans back up to sit on his knees again, his fingers coming under your underwear to tug them down your leg. he shoves them in the back pocket of his pants, and starts to get his barely held together, worn jeans off. he’s a little clumsy, as he tries not to disturb your legs hanging on his hips, but you’re considerate enough to lift them while he shoves his pants down. his boxers look… well, they look. if you weren’t so focused on the tent in them, maybe you’d be a bit more concerned with the state of his underwear.

“so…” he swallows hard, and a hand combs through his slowly drying hair; he feels a little sweat building up in his hairline, and he hasn’t even put it in yet…!! sometimes, he wishes he was even half as ‘smooth’ or… what was that other word? sw-ouve? suave? as dennis… maybe he’ll have to get in his apartment and re-watch some of his sex tapes… but, the angle of them was so…

“i’m, uh, i’m good.” you say, noticing what looks to be charlie spacing out right before having sex with you. you try to not take offence. after all, you’re quite literally positive that he has even less luck in the love department than you.

“oh—“ charlie blinks hard, “yeah? yeah, okay, good. that’s good.” it feels like his heart was gonna jump out of his throat as he tugs his boxers down, but is too lazy to take them off all the way; his cock falls out, erect and already leaking pre-cum. you can’t help but stare at the hairy mess of his crotch.

charlie is staring at yours, too, but for different reasons. he’s looking at your little hole, biting his bottom lip — he really has waited so long for this. the gang was never going to believe this. maybe, after this… you guys can… hang out a little. you know… date!* and you can tell them yourself!! the thought makes his dick twitch. he grasps his length, and angles it so that it presses against your drooling cunt. you feel a spark of arousal zap you at the feeling of his tip against you, but you don’t get to really appreciate the feeling for long before he’s pushing inside you.

a little noise of discomfort hums in your mouth, your lips pressing together firmly; it wasn’t like a terrible rip inside you, but, you usually preferred a little more… prep? charlie stops half way in, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“are you okay?” he asks, voice breathy. you wave a dismissive hand, nodding.

“yeah, yeah— you’re fine, don’t worry,” you assure, and once the initial stretch settles, you finally feel full. even if you masturbated, your fingers couldn’t truly emulate the feeling of an actual cock inside of you. your face heats up as charlie pushes himself the rest of the way inside, and you can hear him let out a little groan.

there’s a pause, assumably to let the both of your adjust for a moment, before charlie is dragging his length against your velvety walls. he doesn’t pull all the way out, leaving most of his tip in before pushing back in; he works up a rhythm, even though it’s a little uncoordinated. he’s panting softly on top of you, and you struggle to hold back soft sounds of pleasure. he catches them, and his hands move from your hips to your hands — he intertwines your fingers, and your eyes widen. he leans over you, and you can’t help but squeeze his hands. he smiles at you, and squeezes back.

this pace lasts for about 30 seconds before his hips buck forward with more passion. he groans, and you can’t help the way your cunt tightens around him; a whine settles in his throat, and he feels too caught up in the feeling of your warm walls around him to realize he should back off before he —

you suddenly feel a thick, gooey substance inside you and your eyes widen. your back arches, and you feel grossly turned on — you just wish it didn’t end… so fast? you open your mouth to say something, but charlie is just as quick to apologize.

“sorry, sorry—“ his voice is even more pitchy than usual, and his hands grip yours like his life depended on it while his hips stay nestled against yours. he seems to struggle every time your walls contract around him. you kind of wished he pulled out, but… oh well? he will in a second, anyways.

to your surprise, he takes in a shaky breath before slowly starting again. a pinch forms between your brows, and a quiet moan gets caught up in your throat. you can hear a light squelching sound from between your legs, and your face burns. you feel hot and a little sweaty, and he looks… well, much worse. you’re surprised he’s even still hard, but… you know he tends to get hard around you most of the time. still, this must have been awfully overstimulating for the guy? the thought that he just wanted to fuck you so bad that he’d continue to, orgasm after orgasm…

one of your hands wiggle out of his grip and snake down your body. your fingers find your clit, and you softly rub it; your tummy tightens and so does your cunt. charlie whimpers on top of you, and he breathes out an i love you. you’re too focused on chasing your own high to fully process his words.

his thrusts start to smooth out a little, rolling his pelvis into yours — there’s still an obvious uncertainty to them, but your fingers speed up against your clit all the same. you pant, and the two of you make eye contact. his cheeks are flared, his lips are red from biting and kissing, his pupils were blown out; in the shitty lighting of your apartment, he looks so good like this. he feels so good inside of you. you can physically feel your distaste for the man melting away each time his cockhead plunges against that spot inside you.

an actual moan escapes you, and he refocuses. he leans does to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, while trying to hit that same spot inside you again. you can hardly kiss him back, jaw slacking — your fingers move furiously against your little button, and your legs cross behind him, desperate to feel him against you. the feeling begins to overwhelm you, and your tummy flips.

it isn’t much longer before that knot inside you snaps, and you cum around him. the pleasure washes through you, and your swear your foot just twitched. the hand that was messing with your clit comes up to push in the hair at the nape of his neck, gripping the strands there; charlie’s hips buck against you at the feeling, and he moans and whimpers into the kiss. he cums for the second time tonight with a whine, and he slows to a stop inside of you.

a few moments pass before he reluctantly pulls back. you look so beautiful like this — under him, panting softly, with parted lips and a notable slump. he had thought about this moment so many nights with his dick between his hand, and none of those scenarios ever compared to this.

charlie pulls his cock out of you, and some of his cum dribbles out of you. he doesn’t really notice, although you feel it. you let go of the hand that still held yours, and you almost cringe at how sweaty it feels.

“… hi,” he practically whispers with a little chuckle — reality was really starting to hit him now, and he can’t help but feel giddy. it makes your heart flutter.

“hi…” the hand at the back of his head comes forward, brushing his hair out of his face. you feel tired and a little spent. reality was hitting you, too, but you feel more weirded out than happy. charlie takes your hand and presses a playful kiss to it, and you realize that you’ve really made a mess of things.

“do you wanna… go to bed?” he suggests, his mind wandering. he imagines himself abandoning frank and coming to live with you. maybe he was just feeling romantic and impulsive, but he thinks he’d probably abandon everything for a chance to be with you.

“i think…” you slowly pull your hand away from him, and start to sit up. “i’m gonna go take a quick shower.”

“oh,” is all he says for a moment, but then he grins. “i’ll see you in bed, then?”

“uh, sure.” you nod, and you can still hear the rain outside. he nods too, and his grin stretches so wide it hurts his cheeks. he gathers up his clothes, putting his boxers back on and starts to head down the hall to your room. you watch him, and your mind wanders, too. you aren’t sure how you can ever hope to even possibly get rid of him, now.

[theshiftingwitch]

Holi. My sp is a guy from my university and I already knew him a year ago, I thought he was cute but nothing else. I only talked to him once, but for a course question and he was very polite. However, this year from one moment to the next I started to like him and I didn't understand why. He and I, we never spoke again since that one time, we have no friends in common, much less in networks and I know absolutely nothing about him, but his name. * I saw him with a girl, with a physical aspect very different from mine. She was kind of blonde and stuff) Back to the present * however, I started to claim that he is head over heels in love only with me. I didn't believe it at all, but I claimed only when I could and my negative thoughts were a bit stronger. The first week I started to pay more attention to him (before I didn't care what he did) but I was more attentive to him. I just got nervous when I passed him. Then I started to get confused if he was looking at my friend or me, so the doubts stayed in my mind and my friend started talking about him as if she was interested in him too, so I got sad. But I kept affirming, I only crossed paths with him a couple of times and his friends added me to talk but he never spoke to me, and he was on his cell phone, he ignored me. But then I saw him with the most popular girl in college, she is very pretty and obviously I am very insecure because I feel that I don't fit the standard of beauty or that I am not his physical type of him. Even more so when She is like the other girl I saw him with. I felt really bad, both because I saw no movement for me and I didn't understand how if I claimed that he was in love with me, he was with another girl flirting. What's more, he never talked to me or anything and I thought how would it happen. So I gave up and stopped affirming a couple of days ago, I feel really sad and I can't affirm because I'm kind of busy with my exams. But I really like that guy a lot, I feel like I left him in oblivion and I'm losing him, even when I try to affirm that he only has eyes for me. I remember his image with her. And even worse my friend told me that he was looking at her. What should I do? I don't even believe in my affirmations and I don't do them, maybe affirm two minutes a day or so. I want him to come closer to me and start something nice together. But I get depressed. Thank you so much and sorry for so much

Let me put this as bluntly as I possibly can:

I don't care if the entire female population of planet earth wants your man, if you stick to the rules, you will have him all to yourself.

I'm gonna need you to snap out of this self deprecating crap and start applying the law seriously before I slither out of this screen and knock some sense into you myself. You affirm for 2 minutes a day and it doesn't work and you're sad and he's ignoring you? Guess what, if you apply the law he won't ignore you, he won't care about any other girl, he will be head over heels for you!!!

So which outcome do you want? Because it's up to you.

Your self esteem is low and you think you're not his type? Work on yourself concept.

https://youtu.be/82HsdaAkC-Q?si=J7acMMLfYV9yCJCe

You don't like the way you look and you want a killer glow up? Work on your desired appearance!

https://youtu.be/p3t9w_2Hjio?si=ZZh5QWp2w7Lsk_8C

You want him to be obsessed with you and ignore everyone who isn't you? Affirm a thousand times a day that he wants you more than life itself.

https://youtu.be/cAFVEBnZXZk?si=IlqxOD_lxGNGtFem

At the end of the day, the girl doesn't matter. Only what you want does. So take a break, take a few deep breaths, relax , then get your head in the game.

Affirm, visualize, script, listen to subliminals... Whatever you want, just don't give up before you even start!

Happy manifesting ❤️ (a little tough love never hurt anyone)

[skinnypaleangryperson]

Jesus Christ, occasionally now and then I wonder and look back on my inner life and wonder why I've been obsessing over to cartoon characters from fairly crappily executed cartoons from the past couple of years for the sake of comfort and for living out fantasies, and wore it off depression and meaninglessness etc

It's no wonder-as obnoxious as the Reddit fandoms are, and as repetitive as much as the tags can be on here at times, cartoons are really the only thing with the consistent sense of community even long after the media has stopped giving.

I've had the most profound day to day inner life with Bojack through maladaptive daydreaming for years now, every single day, and the active obnoxious fandom, as much as they despise me and I them, is a big part of that.

I look back on the other inner lives I had with other movie characters from a couple of years ago and even though I'm more of a movie based person than cartoons generally, I can understand why there's full grown mentally ill adults who are so latched on to them. America is already deprived of community, especially creatively, and you latch on to whatever it is still has that fire in it in any way you can, even if it's fairly crappy or even if there's not actually connection from the way you connect with it versus other people.

I looked back on old tags where I used to make the most profound friendships and they're completely dead. It's like it never happened. It's honestly devastating. It's hard to believe they're ever used to be so much life there.

This is the reason why cartoon communitys are so overloaded and obnoxious I suppose

[westerberg]

I feel like such an ass whenever I try and explain to my sister that I don’t actually think I have autism (she self diagnosed a couple of years ago and was immediately convinced I must have it) but it gets so frustrating when a person who has never bothered to actually try and understand my emotions tries and acts like she understands me “better than I do myself” or whatever… like it really annoys me autistic doesn’t mean “quiet friendless weirdo” like it’s a mental condition and frankly I don’t really relate to the majority of the symptoms… the small extent to which I do I think could be explained by CPTSD/Depression/and maybe ADHD but I’ve never had a thing with overstimulation or meltdowns or have ever had a thought about a foods texture or anything, and I actually kind of hate routine….I don’t seek out small talk but I can be a pretty great conversationalist if I actually click with another person. But I’m not really a person to waste time talking to a person I can tell I don’t click with- which I don’t think is an experience my sister has ever had as far as I can tell. So I think she thinks I’m lying to save face or something and I’m just a horrible socially awkward weirdo incapable of conversation. Like when I said to her I can’t “connect” w/ people my freshman year of college and she thought it was autism- like no, I grew up in a trailer park with an alcoholic dad and my mom died 3 years ago and I’m going to college with 18 yrs olds whose parents are lawyers and go on yearly vacations to Florida- THATS why I can’t connect with them. But she’s so insecure I think she really needs to believe that I have the same issues as her bc she sees me as “cool”

Mostly it’s just I know my sister projects like crazy and I really don’t think she has an understanding of how I go about in the world considering she once tried to diagnose me as a sociopath. She clearly does not respect me as an individual human being with my own individual experiences… and I hate how fucking pathological she has to get with me, in a way it feels massively disrespectful. And she pretends to respect me saying I don’t think I have it but then she’ll do things like try to calm me down by saying “change is hard…” and then later I ➡️ can see that she is understanding me being stressed by something anyone in the world would be stressed by as an “autistic meltdown” (maybe in part bc she understands every problem I’ve ever had as insignificant no matter the situation) which I have seen her have many times and I have definitely never had something like that.

Like I don’t wanna be a dick about autism and part of me worries I’m just getting defensive and then I’d really look like an ass but I genuinely don’t think I have significant autistic traits apart from needing some time alone, sometimes having trouble with making friends (I do think this is much more about environment + bouts of depression than my ability to “connect”), and I do get really obsessed w/ random things but I think it’s more like ADHD in that they tend to be kind of fleeting (but I will NEVER change my Richard Lewis icon even tho that obsession has definitely mostly passed LOL)

[spiralizera]

buzzcut season

Summary: Namjoon x reader. Self-explanatory

warnings/notes: established relationship, depression, hurt/comfort, mild suggestion, a shower, this was so self-indulgent, and by self-indulgent I mean I wrote it at 4am when I had to be up at 6am

———————————————————————

‘Ready?’

You hold Namjoon’s eyes in the mirror as you stand behind him. He sits in front of you, shirt off with a towel wrapped around his shoulders. He looks at you with firm determination.

‘You still sure you want to do this? You can always change your mind. No one has to know.’

A flicker in his eye. You would know, you knew everything. It terrified him sometimes how much of him, all of him, you held in his hands. But you kept your face open, loving and non-judgemental. No one would know because as far as you were concerned you were no one, this was nothing. As in, this room, you and him, did not exist outside this moment. Two separate planes of existence where the outside world could not begin to fathom, let alone touch the tiny world you’d crafted between each others touch and gaze. No one would know if he failed. Again.

——————————————————————

Joon had come to you that morning. You’d been waiting for days. He’d not been in a good place for months. The growing number of hours at the studio, the obsessive workouts, the half written lyrics left absently around the house, the holding onto you at night like a life raft. He wouldn’t talk. You didn’t push. You made sure he ate, got some sleep; held him and told him simple things about your day. You were there in the hopes that he would soon join you.

Then, he came to your desk and knelt by your side, placed his head in the crook of your hip joint. You ran your fingers through his glossy hair before pressing your lips to his head. Some days he did this and you let him sit there for what felt like hours as you wrote your notes. It was a peaceful equilibrium only interrupted by the afternoon sun sifting through the curtains. Today there was a charge. If you didn’t hold on, it felt like he might take off, or fall apart. There was an energy. It was good. It had to be.

‘I need you to do something for me.’

You hummed, keeping a steady rhythm.

‘I need you to shave my head.’

He raised his head, eyes a little woozy from the blood rushing to his cheeks. Your hands followed them, cupping the skin as you searched his gaze.

Not a question. A need.

‘Ok.’

‘I need you to cut it all off.’

‘Ok,’ you repeat, as softly as you thumb his cheeks.

His gaze is hard and his eyes are bright. You slip to the floor, not moving your hands from his face and landing between his thighs. He pulls at your waist, gets you as close as he can.

‘Ok Joon. We can do that.’

———————-————————————

You do eventually talk about it. As you make the coffee you listen as he takes you through all his thinking. There’s so much of it and you can’t help but smile. Of course he would overanalyse this small act of rebellion into oblivion.

You touch his hip as you hand him a cup. ‘It’ll feel good.’ Simple language felt right, grounding. You weren’t going to question him, he did enough of that on his own.

‘I did it a couple of years ago. It felt good to let go like that.’

His eyes slightly widened. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah,’ you traced the rim of your own cup. It was strange to find pockets of yourself that he didn’t know. You forgot sometimes, forgot that he hadn’t burrowed into and fused with every cell of your body and all its rotten, gorgeous histories. It sure felt that way. You were quick to remedy the fact.

You’d been going through a rough time. But that didn’t necessarily feel relevant to the shaving. It’d been difficult to tell when the rough time had started, long before the head shaving. But it was easy in retrospect to string together the expected narrative. You’d actually been feeling good that summer. It’d felt empowering. You’d been giddy. Friends watched in a neat line on the sofa as you committed the fateful act. It became a ritual then, an occasion. Ask a different friend each time to shave and then eventually bleach your head. A gesture of trust. An excuse to have dinner and catch up in a city that was hostile to such acts of tenderness. But it’d also been a form of armour, a repellent. One you only began to recognise when you let it grow out again. When you’d let it grow soft and it’d start to graze your shoulders, only then did you realise how hard you had been. You didn’t want to be a cliche. But again, it’s easy to fall into such things in retrospect.

Namjoon listened as he buried his face into your hair. It was thinner than his, but curly at the ends and you had a lot of it. He liked how he could grab a fistful and feel it disappear into the nothing at the end. Like silk or water.

‘Do you think I’m crazy?’ He asked into your neck.

You shook your head and he got a wave of heady perfume.

‘No. I think you’re sad.’

You’d never said it so simply before. It cut to the quick of what he’d been circling for months. His hands slightly tightened around your hips and you could feel the way his chest hitched. You turned around, tracking his fingertips on your waist as you grasped his cheeks.

‘And that’s ok. Change is good. We don’t know what it will bring but the act of choosing something, choosing for yourself, for better or worse, is one of the best things you can do.’

He closes his eyes, the tears caught in his throat, and you kiss his eyelids like a shrine.

‘I love you.’ You pull his head towards you slightly and press your forehead to his. ‘I love you and I promise everything will be ok.’

He nods slightly, his forehead bumping against yours and you can’t help but laugh at the small ‘ow’ that escapes his lips.

——————————————————————

You started at the neck where his hair was already short, giving him that final window to back out if he needed.

He stared hard into the mirror like man heading to war. You couldn’t help but break the tension and eventually went straight through the middle of his head. Black swatches fell to the floor and a noise escaped your mouth as you both stared at the consequences. A trench ran straight through the middle of his thick hair. For one long second, both of your faces were a gobsmacked mirror, frozen in disbelief, before Joon cracked with a laugh. He grabbed the clippers off you and repeated the action. His smile growing bigger and you couldn’t help but giggling as you watched him attack his head.

He’d been fastidious about his appearance for years, everyone had. Now it was all gone.

You went in afterwards and evened it out, neatened the edges, touching the soft velvet of a fresh buzzcut with growing compulsion.

Joon had closed his eyes, his brow as soft as his smile as he cherished every touch you stole against his new scalp.

When you finished, you kissed the top of his head. And then his temples and the nape of his neck until he swatted you away and opened his eyes.

He looked and felt lighter. He felt like he was seeing himself for the first time in months. You caught his eye and couldn’t help but catch the grin that was threatening to split his face in half.

Before you could stop him, he’d grabbed you and pulled you into his lap. You squealed and complained about all the hair in your mouth and across the bathroom. He ignored you and whispered thank you into your neck like a mantra. You eventually settled and pulled away to get a proper look. You placed your hands on his chest and felt that heartbeat for what felt like the first time in months.

You kept looking at each other. Not saying anything but occasionally ducking heads into smiles like crushing teenagers.

Despite the vehement protests, Joon picked you up then. Hooking your thighs around his waist and crushing his lips to yours. Holding you and refusing to let go, he grappled his way to the shower. Steam quickly fogging the glass. He pressed you against the cold tiles, your clothes soaking thin, and touched you in ways that he hadn’t in months.

‘Thank you’ he kept repeating, peppering your skin with it, breathy and high with adrenaline. You laughed and ran your fingers against the grain of his scalp, felt his hands tighten on your thighs.

‘Show me how thankful you are.’

[icyg4l]

PAC: Messages from Your Deceased Queer Loved One

Hello beautiful people! Happy Pride Month! This month has come to an end quickly, but we live on forever! I wanted to dedicate this reading to the people we have lost in the LGBTQ+ community to violence, suicide, illnesses and more. They deserve to live long lives without disruption. As the small pieces of progress rise, there comes more regression which is why it is important to emphasize the safety of queer people everywhere. Any queer person you have felt a personal connection to will be sought out for insight through my True Heart Tarot Deck. Rest in peace to the beautiful angels that have suffered on this Earth. Let’s hope that they have a peaceful afterlife. 

Before I make my temporary departure from this community, I feel that it is important for me to give you guys a proper goodbye. I will drop a couple more PACs before this month ends. But I want to remind you all that I have a Five Dollar Friday Sale coming on this Friday! If you are interested in my sale, please refer to my guidelines. Remember, if you have more than one question, that is an additional $5. I will get to you in a timely manner. But without further ado, please choose the iconic queer film still that you feel most connected to. 🫶🫶🫶

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

TW// mentions of familial abuse, violence, suicide, addiction, illness.

Pile One: Hello, Pile One. Your loved one wants you to know that you do not need to be living the fast life. I feel like I am talking to people who feel like they need to grow up fast. Something significant could have happened to you when you were sixteen or to your deceased loved one. You still have time, there is no need to rush the process. I feel like your loved one passed due to an overdose or because they succumbed to HIV/AIDS. They want you to learn from what they have been through. You do not have to fit in with what the crowd is doing. Be careful when you are out with certain people this weekend. Everyone does not have the best intentions for you. It feels like you need to clean house. Your circle does not seem mature enough to understand the transformation you are about to undergo. You are being protected, specifically by a younger person on the other side. This person passed away about 10-15 years ago. Maybe even longer. They want you to start acting like you care about your life. Let’s change our ways for the better, shall we? This may go unheard until a later time, when you really need to hear it but you will get the message. 

Cards Used: King of Swords, 8 of Wands, The Empress, The Moon, 2 of Discs.

Pile Two: This pile feels very heavy in comparison to the last pile. Pile Two, this death feels very recent, like within the last year or so. This also has some romantic undertones. This could have been your partner, or a friend that you never confessed your true feelings for. This person could have expressed suicidal ideations to you. They admire the way that you took care of them while they were depressed. You took them out of their comfort zone and introduced them to a new life. I am channeling the movie ‘Perks of Being a Wallflower’. I think this person left you with a lot of questions when you died. But they want you to know that you did all that you could. There is nothing that you could have done to turn back the hands of time. What’s done is done. They don’t want you to become obsessive over their spirit, but celebrate all that they’ve done and accomplished thus far. Don’t try to save everyone because everyone doesn’t need to be saved. You will never fully heal from this trauma but you will get closure. It feels like you need to move far away from where you are. It brings up too much drama and bad memories. You deserve to be in a place where you feel safe and grounded, even if it means making the move alone. Focus on moving forward from now. They will always have love for you, even in the afterlife. Even if you move on. In fact, when you start dating someone, they will pull the strings behind the scenes for the union to form. 

Cards Used: The Hermit, 3 of Cups, Ace of Discs, The Empress, The World, 2 of Wands. 

Pile Three: Hello, Pile Three! This is exactly who you think it is. If you have been smelling certain scents or have seen things randomly fall, then this is definitely for you. This feels like a cousin or a sibling. I feel like you found out some stuff about this person after they died and it shocked you. “Well, what now?”, they ask. Are you going to look at them differently? I feel like they had a bit of a reputation, but they’re highly misunderstood. They want you to focus on making peace with who they were. Don’t try to justify their mistakes/choices. It is what it is. Instead, focus on more important things like attaining your goals in the physical realm. Some of you may be in the gym using it as a coping mechanism. Make a goal so that you can beat your PR. Something about your childhood is significant here. Unfortunately, I feel like some of you were victimized as a child by this person and because of that, you don’t know how to view this person through an objective lens. It makes you feel guilty because you feel like you should be focused on the good stuff. You have a complicated relationship with this person, even after death. I am channeling this book called ‘All Boys Aren’t Blue’. The author opens up about an inappropriate relationship he had with his cousin and he addresses his cousin with respect, but still holds him accountable for taking advantage of him. For others of you, I feel like this person is sorry for exposing you to the wrong crowd. I heard “the secret is out”. At some point in their life, they stopped caring about themselves and in return, this affected those around them. They want you to find room in your heart to forgive them. It will be a long and complicated journey, but they have hope. 

Cards Used: 6 of Cups (RX), Temperance, The Moon (RX), 7 of Swords, The High Priestess, Justice, The Star. 

Pile Four: Pile Four, your loved one does not want you to keep up with appearances. Be as true to yourself as you should be. Not all of us have the privilege of being able to come out and be ourselves. Some of us have to blend in and be like everyone else because that’s what we have to do to keep ourselves safe. If you suspect that anyone was in the closet in your family (immediate family to be exact), then you were right. This person was family oriented, so they chose to stay silent about their identity. Plus, it’s no one’s business. But once again, this was not a choice. They feared being exposed or treated as an outsider. But they see what you are doing and they want you to keep doing it. Keep making friends with other queer folks. Go to pride events. You may find members of your chosen family there. You are a bit naive right now, so you might not understand the full complexities of what they’ve gone through. They understand that you could be upset with them but keep the family close. Do not isolate yourself; even if it means talking to two family members, please keep in contact. It feels like this person was a bit of a mystery. So, you should ask about their history. Get in contact with people who were close with them and get to the bottom of their story. They want you to make an altar for them, so you can connect with them. It will make all the difference in the world, love. 

Cards Used: 10 of Cups, Judgment, The Hierophant, The High Priestess, 10 of Discs, 7 of Wands (RX)

[therotatingvillain]

Funny things in Baby Steps, my unfinished Pokevillain fanfic

Alright, after spending too long in a severe depression hole and also spending like way too much time at work, here I am again!

This is gonna be my first update on the Pokevillain fanfiction that my last post was about. What I’m doing is reading through those 43 pages and just get a base understanding of what the fuck I was even doing.

To have all of you be part of this, you’ll get my live thoughts about it! So be ready for some shitposting and a few sneak peeks at the story haha

Cyrus insisting on just being called ‘Cyrus’ because ‘Mr. Akagi’ reminds him of his father is such a mood. Also, yeah, I use their japanese names as their last names, except Guzma, because Guzmas japanese name is Guzma lol So for him I just used his german name ‘Bromley’. Such an ass name

Having stayed in a hospital for the first time not too long ago, 2020 me was surprisingly accurate when it came to hospital food

“What do you think? Aren’t you supposed to be incredibly smart?” She kept smiling, but Cyrus knew it was fake. It had been ever since she entered. It was the same smile his mother always had when talking to guests or clients. God I hate Cyrus nurse, I made her such a bitch lmao

Forgot I made Cyrus lactose intolerant lol

That smile made Cyrus want to go back into the distortion world No comment needed

‘New Guy’ seemed like a major downgrade from ‘God of a new dimension’ but for now, having terribly failed the latter one, the first one was acceptable. 2020 me had banger humor

Guzma looking at Cyrus and just going “You’re my friend now” is how I make all of my friends

Ah yeah, Giovanni is there because of another failed attempt, except for Guzma the rest is there because of court mandation and Guzma is there because Nanu got him a spot.

almost like touching a Rotom that couldn’t quite control its energy. Foreshadowing? Maybe

Guzma immediately having Cyrus back even when Cyrus is clearly in the wrong is so funny to me

Aaaaaaaah gays bonding over piano music

Ah yes, Maxie and Archie are divorced husbands. Yes, they still love each other, yes, Maxie still actively wears his wedding ring while Archie always has it on him somehow

“Hey fuckers, time for lunch!” Mood Guz

Lysandre desperately trying to socialise with his roommate only to routinely be fucked over by his own shitty mental health and eating disorder is too real man

Dr. Roberts is such a kind soul, he’s the therapist OC I created specifically for this story and he’s just a sweetie who’s fantastic at his job and also, obviously, gay and married with a couple kids.

Cyrus went to college (duh) and majored in: Electrical Engineering, Economics, Computer Engineering, Political Science and Computer Science. And finished all his majors in 4 years. Yikes dude, my boy just wanted to study the stars but he was denied by his bullshit parents

Ah yes, Cyrus sister. Buckle in people, time for a bit of lore:

So we all remember the Old Chateau in Eterna Forrest back in gen 4, right? Right. For a long time there was a theory that perhaps Cyrus grew up in that house. How did we come to that conclusion? Basically, Cyrus in Platinum (and the USUM Rainbow Rocket episode) has a severe obsession with the Pokemon Rotom, supplying Charon with detailed notes and diaries all about it and in the Rainbow Rocket episode, he nearly has a breakdown upon seeing the Rotom dex. Now where do you find Rotom in Gen 4? Hiding in a TV in the Old Chateau. So, we theorized that Cyrus grew up there. What else do we find in the Old Chateau? The spirits of a butler and a small girl. So, the theory goes that Cyrus used to have a little sister, but she and a butler of the family were killed in an accident, probably involving the Rotom Cyrus kept, most likely hidden from his parents. Afterwards, his family moved to Sunyshore, leaving the Chateau, where Rotom was still hiding, possibly having come back in search of it’s friend (Cyrus) and then hiding in the TV because it was scared as it was alone, Cyrus nowhere to be found, and sought comfort in the electrical appliance. That’s how the theory goes. This theory is true in my story.

Maxie and Archie being extremely angry bordering on violent with each other makes me sad. And I wrote this shit!

The fact that Cyrus, on his first day there, immediately has a panic attack in the evening is relatable.

Also, Giovanni helps him through it and they start bonding and being cute hehe

For every scene involving stargazing, be aware that I have zero idea about stars. I grew up in the middle of fuck nowhere, so I can see them very clearly each night, but I still have little to no idea about how to read stars lol

Lysandre has anorexia and Cyrus is way too oblivious to understand that it’s ana so he’s just constantly like “wow youre thin” until it clicks lmao

Saturn, Jupiter, Mars and Charon are just codenames and Cyrus never bothered to learn their actual names. Is this also foreshadowing? Maybe hehe

YES CYRUS STAND YOUR GROUND TO THAT PISS POOR EXCUSE OF A NURSE i hate her so much man

Cyrus is a deeply kind person. I will not elaborate yet

Yes, Maxie and Archie get over their shit and back together

Yes, it spirals Giovanni into another suicide attempt

No, I shall not elaborate how one leads to the other

But yeah, there’s a pretty intense part of this that deals with Giovannis shitty mental state and his active suicide attempt (that only barely failed) and Cyrus ends up having a severe breakdown because of it. Like I said in my last post, this story deals with some heavy topics.

Guz and Ly really take on the roles of dads to Cyrus, to help him be more open in his expression and just be who he is and I think that’s beautiful

His breath was caught in his throat, his chest and stomach spreading a comfortable warmth through his body.

What was this? A heart attack? 

No, those felt different. There was no stabbing pain. I love writing Cyrus

THERAPY POKEMON EVERYONE yes the leaders are getting therapy Pokemon

Here’s a list of who they get:

Giovanni: His Persian

Maxie: Toxel

Archie: Hypno

Cyrus: His Rotom

Ghetsis: Castform

Lysandre: Levanny

Guzma: His Golisopod

I’d love for yall to theorize on why each leader gets their respective Pokemon! I actually put some thought in all of them haha

Cyrus grandfather has a big role in Cyrus’ recovery, and it starts with a simple visit that is still one of my favorite parts of this story so far

Cyrus grandfather (Paul Akagi) is the polar opposite to his parents, Paul is kind, loving, supportive and really just wants Cyrus to be happy and their relationship???? it warms my heart

A big part of connection for all of the leaders, specifically everyone else and Ghetsis, is a broken piano in the common room that they all work together to fix and that piano really is a symbol for Cyrus’ recovery and especially his willingness to get better.

GUZMA IS TRANS and this is a fact because I am trans and I said so. Also Ghetsis is a bigot. End of sentence lol

Ghetsis saying some transphobic shit and Guzma then going to PULL HIS NON PARALYZED ARM OUT OF ITS SOCKET is such a girly pop move

Also yes everything I’ve written so far ends on Maxie and Archie remarrying and Dr. Roberts allowing everyone to drink alcohol in celebration and yes of course it escalates lol

Alright everyone, that’s it for now, I’m all caught up, hopefully I’ll get some time to actually write a bit more the next few days. 

As always, please please please interact with this, tell me your thoughts so far, ask questions, I NEED IT okay cool thank you.

I have work tomorrow so I shall go and kill myself lol

Have a great whenever you are! Stay hydrated

Love all of you.

[wildshona]

Being a Sex Addict

Ok so a very nice man from New Zealand was asking what it felt like to be a sex addict and other people have really enjoyed taking advantage of it so here is a bit of a Shona style informational.

How do you become a sex addict?

Well there are some differences between men and women and for some it is about poor coping strategies but really it is about power and a need to overcome past trauma caused by sexual or physical abuse or loneliness caused by emotional neglect. well if u have been following my longer blogs rather than just looking at the pictures u must have picked up that i spent years being sexually abused as did my sister although she has not become a sex addict cos our circumstances were different not least she gort emotional support and i got emotional abuse as well as being fucked all the time.

What are the signs?

obsessive sexual thought - u gotta believe it unless i'm doing something that occupies my mind and activity then i will be thinking about sex, chatting and fantasising on tumblr or whatever.

excessive time spent on sexual activity - yeah i tick this box, excessive masturbation you bet and i dont wear knickers around the flat and even when i go out so that i can get at myself, watching lots of porn - not particularly but sometimes, excessive search for sexual encounters - well uve been reading my blog and u know the electrician is just one of many and ive just finished sucking off my husband before writing this to send him on his way to a meeting happy

feeling shame or depression - yeah well i dont talk about that too much but when you spent years being told ur a worthless whore only good as a cum receptacle it gets to ur mental health just a bit.

cheating on partners - fortunately dont need to cos Chris likes me fucking what he tries to do is keep it safe - not a lot of luck there but he does his best

engaging in increasingly risky and inappropriate behaviours - honestly if u go to a club and then go back to a flat with three strange men a s i did a couple of weeks ago that can turn really bad. it dodnt for me that time i just got all my holes occupied til i was dripping fluid from everywhere but i have been raped enough that i should know better but thats an addiction for you.

committing criminal sex offences - i suppose fucking in club toilets and alleyways covers that and lets not forget i met chris cos i offered him a blow job for a tenner

you can't stop regardless of negative consequences - yeah i can't stop and ive cum three times this morning already.

Can you be cured? Apparently recovery takes two to five years as long as you have consistent therapy. i think im on the five year journey and sometimes im not even sure i want to recover cos i fucking love fucking. but i know it is dangerous and i know i could end up dead in a ditch or selling myself so...

so now u know.

What does it feel like - an overpowering need to be a body that is used. even though it sometimes feeds the worse behaviours of the men and women who use as i experience with a lot of men on here

.

[changingplumbob]

People you’d like to get to know better:

Thanks for the tag @simfestation, always afraid to jump on the trend if I'm not actually tagged (screw you anxiety)

last song: Shuffle is on now and it's currently, Hard Out Here - Lily Allen, when I finish writing this post it's... Home - Gabrielle Aplin (If you've played LIS: True Colours it's the song that plays when Alex first stands on the bridge in Haven). Yeah my December playlist is eclectic

favorite color(s): Sky blue, canary yellow and royal purple

currently watching: Making my way through Once Upon a Time again. As of tonight I've finished season 4's special features, tomorrow will be the start of season 5! Camelot here I come (mentally, although physically would be pretty cool)

last movie: So I watch my favourite Christmas movies in the lead up to Christmas... On Christmas day I watched The Family Stone (first movie I ever saw where the queer characters just existed as part of the family, no coming out or fighting for rights subplot, it holds an extra special place in my heart)

currently reading: I have just finished The Red Queen by Christina Henry, but I have found it difficult to read the last couple of years (screw you as well depression). When I'm next up for a reading session it'll be Carrie by Stephen King.

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Sweet! But strangely enough I don't like lollies, only chocolate

last thing I googled: Disney Dreamlight Valley what to feed the monkeys... I tried giving them six different types of things okay, I had reached the end of my tether

current obsession: I gave myself season 4 of Reign for Christmas (yes, I still buy DVD's. Yes, it aired years ago but I could only bring myself to watch season 3 this year, still cried my eyes out when the sad thing I knew was coming happened) but POINT I am back to being obsessed with long skirts, long dresses, and women who don't let men make decisions for them

currently working on: Not feeling like everything I build is 💩, being brave enough to say hi to people on tumblr, and just generally upkeeping my sims playing/writing hobby

Some people I wanna know more of, once again if there are tag rules of only tag a handful, I do not perceive them. It was a success not to paste my whole moots list okay (but really you're all tagged in spirit): @marcishaun @azuhra @sharona-sims (when you're not flu stricken) @simmerbeans @dopaminestarvedsim @melonivysims @s1eepytrait @anamoon63 @belsasim @limeysims @nigmos @chechecocoleche @pickypikachu

As always, feel free to ignore the tag since I play tag like an octopus a septopus and the holidays are busy for some.