#you can still come home you know this

[googoothegodofblood]

damnnnn i miss my friend lol ahaha *kills self

Im not exactly happy about Gyro. I was a really lonely kid prior to 2020, i had like one friend and being part of Fersona earnestly changed my life, Gyro was one of my longest friendships, i loved this person, but to defend their participation in fetishizing child abuse and other such materials would just go against my morals, i'd really just like to see them reflect and get better, i didnt really want to leave but what fucking choice did i have if it was posting joyously about "t4t incest" or writing about a demented, lobotomized, transgender woman raping a child after school hours. Just why did you have to do this? this isnt how you cope, this isnt normal or healthy and it feels like self harm so why would you go ahead and say all these things. i dont wanna assume but yknow.yknowww it feels like Mallory coaxed them into it, entering a relationship with Mallory only to randomly one day get exposed for getting off to actual child abuse feels weirdly connected. but these were the people i'd suspect last of such a thing. i was raised on drama content, on callouts and whole essays dissecting how a child predator or a fido fucker was exposed and their descent into madness. i try to be normal, i try to have that voice in the back of my mind at all times. and yknow. i do struggle with weird things too, i did so at their age, i wouldnt say i was groomed, but i was influenced, i was influeneced and conditioned and i knew it was bad but i was told it wasnt bad as long as a very flimsy condition could be met and im seeing that in Gyro, someone their age takes their hand, pats it, and says "hey...its weird to be a freak" and you say "yeah! yeah! i know that! i advocate for freaks!" but at some point its not being a freak, its being a danger to yourself, its a slippery slope into something very very bad. i know you cant exactly control this sorta feeling i know this is a mental illness i know you have to get treated for paraphilias but for fucks sake you dont need to indulge it, when you have an urge to self harm you might self harm, or you might try to not self harm, you might find ways to hurt yourself without saying its self harm. as long as its not strictly "knife to wrist" you cant call it self harm right? like beating your legs until theyre purple or slamming your head against the wall or scratching yourself or bumming cigs or actually fucking slicing up for vulva for no fucking reason or trying to get yeast on purpose and then years later it happens okay WHY WOULD YOU FUCKING DO THAT. i miss my friend, they were my friend, i know we stopped talking as much, it hurt, i wanted to talk more, to both of them, but maybe its good i didnt get too attached.

fuck 4th of july

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Learning to celebrate the little wins!

[icewindandboringhorror]

On average, what is the total MONTHLY amount that you spend on dining out*?

*(This doesn't only count going out to restaurants, but also stuff like picking up fast food to bring home, getting a coffee on the way to work, getting a premade sandwich from a grocery store deli during lunch, buying a quick snack from a convenience store or food cart whilst walking somewhere, ordering a pizza or any other food to be delivered to your home, etc.)

*(If you often dine out in groups/as a household: calculate and divide the costs so that you get a Per Person average. This is for YOU individually, NOT the total household/group costs)

(I'm sure polls similar to this have been made before (very common topic), I just haven't personally seen one that I can remember, so, I was curious to do my own! I was discussing this with a group of people today and it was very interesting to see how widely the number varied between individuals. :0c )

(Reblog for bigger sample size if you can, and feel free to explain your answer in tags if there's anything extra to add!)

[senseearly]

For a moment, imagine yourself in Mithrun's brother shoes.

Your brother - stronger, prettier, more charismatic, but also distrustful and disdainful of everyone especially you - is to be sent to the Canaries. It is the rule, it is the duty of all noble houses. But you know what goes on there, Mithrun knows what happens there. Yet you see him off, bidding a temporary farewell as you do, because someone from the House has to go and it won't be definitely you. Mithrun knows this, you know this. And you wonder, very briefly, if Mithrun hates you now more than he does already.

Your brother - powerful, agile, a good soldier just as he is as an heir, if he could only be an heir - suddenly disappears. The unit he belonged to suddenly disappeared. And you're speechless because - how? why? No one wants to answer you; they will instead try to bring back a body, they promise to you. But that is not what you want. You grieve for your brother. but your own family doesn't grieve with you. Wasn't Mithrun family too?

Then you found out: MIthrun is alive.

Your brother - now weak, despondent, his eyes always looking for something that is not here nor there - is to be sent home where people can take care of him. It is not your first choice, you want him home. But he is - sick. Not quite there. He needs someone who can look after him and you look at yourself - your gait, your constitution - and you know it can't be you. So, you follow the advice of your family and pour out all your resources to find him the best of healers and caretakers. You ask yourself, almost daily, if Mithrun would ever return to who he once was.

Your brother - strong, pretty, uninterested of anything and anyone else aside from what he calls 'the demon' - is now better. He can walk on his own now, eats without throwing up on himself. The color on his skin is back and the scars of his injuries have faded into thick bumps and discolored skin. But he still isn't quite there; still needs help and probably will for the rest of his life. And you can live with that. You can provide that. Just as long as he comes home.

But doesn't. Your brother - now a husk of his former self, and you hate thinking of him that way, but you can't help yourself, the Mithrun you knew is gone - runs straight back to the Canaries. His mission is not over, he says. He doesn't care how long it takes, he says. And you see him off, again, because someone from the House has to go and it still can't be you. Mithrun knows this, you know this, and you can't help but wish, very briefly, if things would've been different if you went instead of him.

[jadewritesficshere]

Eddie x fem!reader (reader wears lingerie, no other descriptions of reader given except mentioning hitting that spot just right)

Contents: lingerie, both are a lil pervy tbh, humiliation, crying, praise kink, sub!Eddie, this is literally just horny ramblings

18+ only

It wasn't every day you came back to your house and your best friend had broken in. Maybe, every other week at best.

Usually, Eddie would be high eating your snacks (you were thinking about getting a lock for the cabinets). Or he would be watching whatever show you recorded and tease you about spoiling it (you threatened to use the VHS to beat him over the head and strangle him with the VHS ribbon if he did).

But, you had no clue Eddie was even in your house today. His van wasn't parked in your driveway when you came home. His shoes weren't in a haphazard pile at the front door. You had 0 clue he was there.

Not until you heard a thump coming from your bedroom. Which, your first thought went to the knickknacks you had that someone could be stealing (they wouldn't cause to a normal person it was junk but to you they were memories).

You grabbed a knife from the kitchen (you weren't gonna die without a fight, besides you learned a thing or two from the horror movies Eddie made you watch). You quietly pushed your bedroom door open and-

Shit.

Eddie was standing in your room in front of your mirror. Miles of pale skin just on display, scattered with contrasting dark tattoos he had. Nothing on, save for your lilac lingerie.

The palest purple lace bra, you can see from the back isn't even clipped correctly, missing the hook entirely. But the color is striking on Eddie. The lace thong cuts high on Eddie's ass, and you try not to gawk at the little black heart tattooed on his cheek. Eddie's scars seem softer amongst the lace.

How often did Eddie do this? Come over and put on your lingerie? Stand in front of the mirror and rub his fingers over his one hardened nipple. You couldn't see from where you were, but you knew his cock was hard. He'd be leaking all over your underwear, marking them.

Eddie lets out a little moan and it ignites a fire in your gut. You lick you lips as you watch Eddie, which maybe makes you a pervert but really it is your house and he is wearing your clothes so if anyone is-

Fuck why is it so hot?

"So-" you clear your throat. Eddie let's out a screech (that you are pretty sure ruined your eardrums) as he whirls around. He tries to cover himself with his arms, curls in on himself. And Holy cow he is hard.

He is big, so big, the tip just peeking out of the waistband of the panties. You can see the pearly translucent precum already dripping onto the underwear.

"I- fuck, I'm aha listen I can exp- i can explain!" Eddie fumbles over his words. You blink a few times tearing your eyes away from his massive dick (oh it would feel so good it would hit every spot just right).

Eddie's face is red, tears welling up in his eyes. "Oh Baby, no," you rush over, pausing when Eddie flinches. You gently put a hand out on Eddie's shoulder, drawing him into a hug, " It's- it's okay. Please don't cry." "Don't hate me." You gasp in shock, pulling back to look in his eyes," I could never!"

Eddie's eyes are wet, filled with unshed tears. His nose is turning a bit red, from embarrassment, shame, or sadness you can't tell. But his cheeks are such a pretty pink you think it'd look nice elsewhere on his pale skin.

Eddie hides his face with his hair, shuffling his feet a bit. "So..." you pause unsure how to ask it politely so you just go for it," I can see this is a kink thing...but like, what kind?"

Eddie shrugs," Wanted to feel pretty..." You frown," You are pretty Eddie." Eddie shakes his head and gestures to his abdomen," Not with these."

Eddie really should not be drawing your eyes any further south then his face. Cause your pulse kicks up and the fire inside you lights back up your spine. You can't help but notice his dick is still hard as a rock.

"You are too pretty." "Not really." "Yes!" Not-" You shove Eddie lightly, causing him to stumble back and fall onto the bed. Eddie's eyes widen in shock as he peers up at you.

"Don't talk about my best friend that way! You are too pretty. And handsome. Funny. So talented," You sigh and step forward, into Eddie's parted legs. Eddie leans up on his elbows and blinks rapidly at you. "You're so fucking pretty Baby." You murmur, hand reaching out lightly touching his thigh.

Eddie let's out a whine before looking startled at himself. You can't help but notice his dick twitch under the pale purple lace. "You like being called pretty?" You smirk. "Like when you call me Baby," Eddie replies softly.

You aren't sure who moves first, but suddenly your arms are wrapped around each other. Your lips meet Eddie's without hesitation. His are slightly chapped but still soft, molding perfectly against your own.

You run your hand down Eddie's neck, to the pale bra strap and snap it. He gasps and you take the chance, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He tastes of weed, mint gum, and just Eddie.

Eddie moans against you, hips bucking forward seeking friction. You pull back, gasping for air. Eddie let's out a whine," No, come back-" "I ain't going anywhere Baby."

Eddie's eyes flutter shut as he bites his lip. He hums as you kiss his jaw, lightly nipping at his pulse point. He shivers against you, hips bucking forward again. You suck lightly as you decide to give him some relief.

Your hand snakes down, grasping him firmly. You lightly squeeze through the lace, giving just enough friction as you move your hand.

"Look so good in my lingerie Baby, you should wear it more often." You murmur between kisses. Eddie nods absently, gasping and moaning beneath you. "Got a red pair that has some nice straps, you'd look so metal and so so pretty."

Eddie freezes, mouth falling open. His brow wrinkles slightly as he moans, pleasure overtaking him. His hips spasm, even his thighs twitch, as he comes. You can feel your underwear get soaked along with part of his stomach.

You stroke him through it, extending his pleasure until he whimpers and pushes at your hand. You pull back, smiling softly at his face. Eddie's eyes flutter open, darting down to your lips. "Kiss?" He asks quietly, unsure. You simply smile and kiss him again.

[s0fter-sin]

ghost stares at the ceiling, chest heaving in a harsh pant; sweat ice on his clammy flesh and soaked into the sheet he restlessly kicks away.

ears still ringing, his fingertips blindly drift down to trail along his vivisection scar. he half-expects blood to smear in their wake. his own line of solomon, who ordered him split in twain; half of him given to a grieving mother and half left with the grieving to be.

just for both his broken halves to be rejected.

what did it make him that his mother grieved him more than she loved him? that she begged to be relieved of him more adamantly than she begged to receive him? why did his worth spill out with his drawn blood? why was his pain lesser than hers?

his hand flexes, digging into the raised scar like it’ll part beneath his fingertips to plunge into his mangled insides. no one knows the cruelty of reforming the halved; his name, his being, not nearly as important as his body when he was stripped from himself. no one knows the pain of healing and understanding losing pieces of yourself means losing your value along with them.

how many more pieces did he have to lose before he was halved once more? before his very presence incurred grief so strong it was better to be rid of him than cradle his bloodied remains?

did the infant fight himself? did he age always at odds with himself; his halves never truly whole? he hopes he wasn’t, that he was spared the loss of self; the fear that one may be welcomed over the other.

who will he lose when the inevitable comes? when he’s ripped apart again? simon? or ghost? is it better to be cursed with choice just like his mother or live with an aftermath chosen for him? does it matter if in the end, he convinces himself there was nothing of him left to lose?

his head lolls to the side and the wild buck of his chest slows. he watches johnny beside him, his face lax with the rare peace of sleep; his cheek squished against the pillow, his lips pursed as long breaths escape him.

johnny. soap. never torn asunder but two all the same.

he carefully reaches out and ghosts his fingers along the jagged scar on his chin. even in sleep, he presses into his bloodied touch. he’s never fled his half-flesh, never shies away from his gore as it spills unbidden from his cleaved torso. he holds on where his mother let him go; cups his stomach to hold his insides in place and never minds the blood that drips through his fingers.

simon will never let him become his own solomon and cannibalise himself. he will never let him question which half of him has more value; which pieces he can afford to lose before he’s cast aside.

ghost’s soap. simon’s johnny. his.

whole, in any incarnation.

[syn4k]

to be, or not to be (romanticization of the inevitable)

[littlespoonevan]

.

[adeleine-everyday]

day 102

no sabo kid

[swordmaid]

i am wide awake thinking about that post canon jb au again when I should be sleeping …!!! such is the nature of the jbrainrot…

[joshnekuu]

Looking at my kh3d tag and remembering how traverse town has been altered in little ways to resemble Shibuya and how in-game it’s probably just as little shout outs and references to twewy but also how it can be read as Joshua being homesick and trying to make this world they’re trapped in as close to home as possible.

[crobones]

look i like Evan/Jammer as much as the next polycule enjoyer, but everyone insisting or joking about Evan and Sam breaking up just so Evan can date Jammer next season "to fit the pattern" or whatever... it doesn't sit well with me

[derpemblemarchives]

September 23rd 2024 Update

Hello Everyone!

I know it's been quite a while since we've last given a proper update on this blog! [squints] Oh lord, almost four years?

That being said, I want to announce that I have something big planned! As I am now much older and have more adult responsibilities, this will be a very slow transition, but I'm excited for what the future holds!!

More info hopefully coming in within the next few weeks! Are you ready? 👀

[whatwooshkai]

10 for smoke and mirrors? 😼

Heatwave stares at the bags he's packed.

The room is still just as full without his stuff, which doesn't make him feel any better about this. His guardians assured him that they weren't going to replace him as soon as he left, that they're done taking in sparklings, even with the extra space now.

The thought is nice, but Heatwave doesn't believe them, because he's heard that line too many times without any evidence backing it up. Which he doesn't really hold against them, he loves everyone that lives in his home, it's just...

It's not just regular jitters- sure, this is his first time leaving home, his first time alone, of course he's going to be nervous.

But he's not nervous. He's scared.

Heatwave really should bring up the strange hallucinations he’s been having with his guardians.

His tanks will oddly cramp, he’ll see things in the corners of his optics, or his visual input will suddenly become shimmery and swirly, as he watches events play out before they do.

Now, Heatwave has heard of outliers before. He’s not stupid. But he never thought…

Yet all the signs are there. He’s able to do something no one else can, or rather, something happens to him that doesn’t happen to anyone else. He overproduces coolant and runs hotter than any other mech.

He shouldn’t tell anyone. Outliers are required to be documented by the government, and Heatwave hasn’t heard too many stories of mechs being whisked away to government facilities never to be seen again, as their abilities are exhausted while the government tries to turn them into some sort of weapon.

So no, he’s not telling anyone.

“Heatwave!”

Snapdragon’s voice floats to his audials from downstairs.

“Coming!” He shouts back, leaving his stuff laid on his berth.

The living room is the center of a rare moment of peace- the sparklings are all down for naps, while the older mechs are all out and about. He can see the twins bickering quietly in the kitchen, though.

Snapdragon is standing next to the couch, while Hard Drive, his other guardian, leans on it towards her.

They’re both tall and bulky mechs, bigger than Heatwave. He hates feeling small, but it doesn’t feel so bad when he’s next to them.

“C’mere, kiddo,” Hard Drive says, grinning with badly disguised excitement. “We gotcha somethin’!”

Snapdragon produces a little box and with a grin to match Hard Drive’s, shoves it into Heatwave’s hands. “Go on, open it!” she encourages.

He does, keeping his field tight to his frame so his guardians don’t pick up on the feeling of foreboding he can’t seem to shake.

It’s a universal translator. Heatwave’s tanks drop.

“It was a while of savin’ up,” Snapdragon starts to explain, clapping her hands together with glee. “But so worth it. Our little Heatwave’s gonna be a Rescue Bot!”

Seemingly oblivious to his inner turmoil, both Heatwave’s guardians sweep him up into a crushing hug.

Primus. I can’t tell them I don’t want to go now!

Heatwave worries his lip between his fangs, but returns the hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

I have to… I have to at least try.

[fromtheseventhhell]

Remember George's outline notes that had "joy of giving" and "mercy at the gate" for Arya? Mercy is crossed out and we obviously have that as her sample chapter, so what if Arya's next alias is "Joy"? Over-thinking the significance of that phrase and how it could apply to the rest of her Braavos arc🤔

[loverboybrightsideghost]

one of my favorite clark headcanons that i have (that is completely unsupported by canon) is that he's transgender by kryptonian standards. martha and jon kent raised him as a boy and as he grew up he never had any reason to doubt it at all, he was like yeah i'm a boy, makes sense. and then he gets to the fortress of solitude for the first time and it turns out how Gender works on krypton was just Different enough that clark doesn't really fit the kryptonian standards of whatever he was supposed to be. bonus points because this makes him feel like even more of an outsider as a kryptonian, even if he's the last one left.