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#at this point i simply can't imagine they aren't
drastrochris · 4 months
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"What the fuck is this?" Harrowhark inquired, twisting her hands through the volume usually covered in skin.
"Yeah," Kiriona sighed, "Dad did his best, but-"
"He did a piss poor job, and he 100% fucking knows it." Harrow pulls, and the muscle tears and re-knits to seal over the gaping wound. The skin repeats after a second, and with a quick wipe Harrow clears the remaining blood with her sleeve.
"Wow. You mean?"
"I mean God is an asshole. He could have made this just as clean as I did, but apparently thought you'd gain something from having your torso open to the world."
"Maybe he thought that-"
"Griddle. Do not demean yourself to imply that The Necrolord Prime, God of the Nine Houses would want his daughter to be," Harrow paused.
"Tits first?" Gideon offered, suddenly finding her mouth worryingly full of spit and pus.
"Never suggest that again, Gideon Nav! I will not have you blaspheme our Resurrector!"
"I mean," Gideon continued, scooping the mess from under her tongue, "you've met him, right?"
"YES! I've met our Lord! He's," Harrow thought, trying to find the right phrase, "He's been through a lot."
"From the way Pyrrha tells it-"
"A lot, Nav. Imagine having that power. Holding all life, all of existence, in your hands. You can take one path, which will enable you to keep all you love alive and prosperous, but it dooms others to poverty and suffering. You can turn back, and it all crumbles and everyone dies. How do you choose what level of suffering is acceptable? How do you craft a society that thrives, based on a foundation of dying and death? How does necromancy solve the original problem, when all it can do is watch as life passes, and puppet the remains to fulfill that vacant purpose?"
"How does that dude think boob jokes are funny when they're about his daughter?"
"Fucking yeah. I don't think God is ok, Nav. I think whatever he's done, he's finding hard to justify to himself, and that leads to him sleeping with Sarpedon."
"I mean, if he wants someone his own age-"
"Pyrrha said she'd gladly investigate the next black hole, so he's getting the best he can get, really."
"Sucks that he's such a fucking asshole, and I still feel bad for his dumb ass."
"God's dumb ass is likely heading for some retribution. Or redemption. I don't think A.L. is going to be forgiving of his disarming nature when she awakes. He's wronged her the most, and I don't think jokes and out of date memes are going to calm her down."
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neoarchipelago · 7 months
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No but imagine finding zombie!ghost. He obviously is different, doesn't try to attack you, his jaw looks broken. He steps away from you as soon as he realizes you're in the same room. You take pity on him, and you lower the gun pointed on his head. Very contradictory, ending him would probably end his suffering. But there's something in his white dead eyes that shows an ounce of something.
You Cary on your way but remain in the same small town. You see him run around once in a while, fighting other zombies. He's one of the fastest zombies you've seen since the outbreak. It sends chills of terror through your body. Sometimes you catch his eye as you rummage through some leftovers left in the houses. He tilts his head, once he even seems to keep away an undead that got too close.
But that couldn't be true. After all... he's just a corpse... infected by a brain controlling virus.
After two weeks of seeing him, from afar and sometimes way too close, you start to wonder what's so different about him. You lay awake in the bed of an abandoned bedroom after you've secured the house you're in. Until you hear footsteps. Quite ones. Human ones.
You panic and rush to jump on your knife, ready to fight but the door flies open and a large man jumps on you, you kick and fight, stabbing him in the shoulder blade but he pins you down. And you think it's over, that's it. Until a common growl is heard. And suddenly it's him, dragging the man on top of you away. Scratching at his throat while blood gushes out. You want to throw up but you're so shocked you can't look away.
When the man doesn't move anymore, he turns to you, looking at you and tilting his head. You tried to catch your breath. He just saved you. Now you're sure he's different. You crawl to him and he takes a step back. You raise your hands in surrender and you watch him fall to his knees. You scan his attire, a military man obviously. You can't seem to find a name. Until you remember that they have dog tags. You scoot closer, he flinches.
"I just... want to see your dog tags. Do you understand?"
What are you doing? Talking to a zombie who probably doesn't understand you anymore. That simply has a tiny bit of humanity left. Probably not for long. Your hands raise slowly and he doesn't move. Your heart is beating so fast and so loudly in your ears. When your fingers touch his cold neck you shiver, trying to touch a hint of a chain. Until you do. And you slowly retrieve the tags from underneath his vest.
"Lt. Simon 'ghost' Riley." You read. "Simon..." he growls almost annoyed. "Ghost?" You try. He lowers his head.
You don't know if you're in shock or dreaming. You scan his vest, a hint of paper in one of his front pockets intriguing your brain. You point at it.
"Can I see?"
He doesn't make a move so you tempt it. You retrieve it, it's a picture. A squad with four men. Him, obviously and three others. Behind, 'task force 141' is roughly scribbled.
"your team... are they dead?"
No answer. As if he could speak.
"you're... looking for them?" You tempt, frowning slightly.
He growls. Yes. He is. He's kept his humanity for a little while. Because he wants to find his team.
You sigh, putting back the picture in his pocket carefully and his dog tags in his vest. You keep scanning him, looking at his attire his face, the blood and dirt.
"We should get you a little cleaning..." you say mindlessly. He tilts his head.
He saved your life. You owe him. You owe this undead man. Should you help him? After all... you aren't busy with anything else but surviving.
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trashfangirlsworld · 1 month
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Hello! I've been inactive due to the current events in the mcyt community, but I've been keeping up with the qsmp admin situation and I thought I'd share some opinions because the amount of doomposting I've seen the last few weeks has been more than I've seen in any fandom in a while and I feel like it's reached the point where people really need to chill the fuck out because they're not thinking straight and actively not helping. Everything I'm gonna say is based on stuff I've seen on both tumblr and twitter.
they should not promote/release merch! : one of the things that baffles me the most tbh; how do you expect any employee to be payed then? Merch is so far the only big source of income for the server besides q's own cc salary or whatever income they get through the official qsmp channel on twitch and youtube (which I don't think is a lot). "I get that they said they have no funds, but still it doesn't feel right"... sorry but at this point I don't know what to tell you, do you expect them to pull money out of their asses? You can't demand that they stop making merch and then complain that they can't afford the twitter admins at the same time. If you don't feel comfortable buying anything from them it's fine obviously, but if your reason for it is that you're helping the admins then I have bad news for you. I have seen people propose that quackity sets up a patreon, and while I think it would be a good idea, I understand why he's not doing it, since with the merch he can at least give something back to the people that choose to support his project instead of people just giving him money for free, especially with what's happening now. Also with how much hate he's been receiving simply for the merch I can't imagine that a patreon would be recieved well.
we don't know if the money is going to the admins/ they should not use pomme's likeness! : the money is definitely going to go to the employees and admins because otherwise the server would not last. And as much as I understand people feeling protective over pomme's admin, quackity studios is very much allowed to sell merch of the character because it is not the likeness of the admin, it's a minecraft model made by the people that work there. Would you have rathered they skip her character entirely? Do you really think that would have been okay?. Also correct me if I'm wrong, but I've seen posts and tweets saying that pomme's admin has been confirmed to come back with the other eggs whenever it happens by pierre, who talked with her admin.
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the admins of the update accounts got fired, it means they want to fire everyone, they aren't making things better! : it sucks that the updates accounts had to end and I feel bad for every twitter admin that clearly cared a lot about the project, but unfortunately it had to happen if there simply isn't enough money to pay them adequately like they deserved and ultimately the update accounts were not essential to keep the project going, so it makes sense that they were let go unfortunately. This is not gonna be the case for the egg admins because if they got fired (which they didn't), the server would basically end. Just because a cc does not know when they will be back does not mean it's not gonna happen. Just because tubbo randomly said that he's not sure if they will be back does not mean they were fired; tubbo is normally not a reliable source of information, even less so when he's been live nonstop for the past 20 days, which is prior to everything happening. If you genuinely didn't expect a reduction in non essential staff considering everything, then you have unreasonable expectations on how this stuff goes. As I write this, I'm seeing people saying that "they would understand this decision if q had set up a patreon to pay the admins", and once again I don't understand how people don't realize why quackity might not be keen on the idea of having his fans pay his own employees for his own project instead of, you know, doing it himself; and, again, do not fool yourself into thinking it would be recieved well. That being said, it's fair to criticize how everything was communicated to the admins, but I'll get to this in more detail later.
quackity should not have uninstalled social media, he's trying to avoid everything! : he's not avoiding anything, he's been off social media for a while now, which is why it took him that long to remove wilbur from the server. He has every right to not want to look at social media, as his focus should be on restructuring his server instead of doomscrolling on twitter because people think he needs to see how much people dislike him. The only people that he should talk to are those that have important information to tell him, like josè with the document. He explicitly said on stream where to contact him if you have helpful information and I'm sure that despite multiple well liked posts saying not to spam his email, people are definitely doing it anyway, which is probably gonna slow the whole thing down even more. I hope josè's document is able to be seen with pierre's help as well.
quackity studios is not communicating with their employees and leaving them in the dark and that's not okay : I agree with this. i think a huge chunk of doomposting lately has been due the lack of communication not with the audience, but with the admins, and they deserve to know what is happening behind the scenes more then us since this is about their current or future job.... that being said, I do kind of understand why they're being so secretive and shutting everyone out, and that's due to all the "leaks" that have been spread online. I understand the anger but I really wish some people would realize that discussing leaked bts lore stuff in ccs discord servers does not help the situation at all and instead makes it seem like they're only doing this to rile up the fandom against quackity studios by using the lore of people's fav characters.
At the end of the day, I think people just aren't used to dealing with a situation that does not have a clear cut solution and someone to clearly hate, so the result is this doomposting and the over aggressiveness toward anything related to the project. Personally, I haven't witnessed anything that made me lose faith in the qsmp like some people have been saying, as every change that we've seen so far coincides with what quackity said on stream a while ago. I only wish things were communicated properly to the admins clearly, as they're the ones most affected, so I hope that's resolved soon. Ultimately quackity is singlehandedly restructuring the server from basically zero, has had to fire people that were misusing money and power and, depending on what josè's document said, is probably gonna have to fire some more. This is not an easy process, nor a quick one, you're not gonna hear about sunshine and rainbows for a while and doomposting about everything you hear because you expected quick change is useless. Think before you speak, have a clear head and most importantly have empathy.
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cheeseceli · 18 days
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Their s/o is a songwriter
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Pairing: idol Ot8!skz × songwriter Gn!reader (individually)
Genre: fluff, headcanon, idol!au
Request: so what if skz finding out their partner is a song writer / composer? bonus points if the skz members also found out that they wrote their favourite song :>
Warnings: reader is implied to write for Kpop most of the time, not proofread.
A/n: as a songwriter, I appreciate this request a whole lot lmao. Thank you for requesting, I hope you like it!
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Bang Chan
Honestly, I think this is something he would find out before dating you
Man knows everyone in the whole entertainment industry
Ofc he knows who you are
If anything, the way you both got to know each other more was through working together to make a stray kids song
Overall, I think he would love to have a partner in the industry
Even if you never get to be on stage
Simply because you understand him more than other people do
You know how music is essential and demanding at the same time
Your job probably makes him feel more connected to you
He likes to joke that you're the newest member of 3Racha
Always sends you songs he made your you to listen
And wants you to do the same
You can send him an audio at 1AM and bro will listen to it right away, ready to give you his opinion and advice (and praise)
Lee Know
Poor stray kids and stay
They will be listening to the songs you worked on nonstop
He just happens to be your biggest supporter 🤷🏻‍♀️
Has a whole 10 hours playlist with all of your work
Knows every lyric even if they aren't Korean
And he also enjoys dancing to it very much
Even if the song doesn't have a choreo, he likes to make up his own by listening to what you did
Probably invented a few trends with your songs because of it lmao
He also listens to it a lot when he's on tour
Even if it's not your voice that he's listening to, it's still you somewhat
He just wants to feel close to you
Asks you to sing or play the songs you produced
Might or might not have a small compilation of audios of you singing when he's way too homesick
(And if you wrote his favourite song, he would definitely have an audio of you singing it)
Changbin
Sees you as a very big inspiration
The amount of times he listened to one of your songs so he could get out of creative block is crazy
If anything, he probably already saw you as a role model before even getting to personally know you
Imagine the seo changbin fan boying you
If you write for other K-pop groups/soloists, he's probably trying to make references of what you wrote in his own rap
Fans always think he's talking about a certain idol or something but he really is just trying to include you in his work😭
And he would beg to have at least one stray kids song cowrote by you
Like literally begging
He needs to have one small Collab with you at least once
And will get a little pouty every time you can't work with skz because you're with another group at the moment
Hyunjin
Loves to have songwriting dates with you
Usually releases the songs you both write (with your permission ofc) as a skz-recorder
Stays are starting to wonder who is that composer/songwriter who is behind every single song Hyunjin is in lmao
I remember he said that one of his goals for 2024 was to produce more
So he will 100% seek your advice and even ask for some particular lessons at times
And he is always a little bit shy when he's about to show you what he's been working on
Because he feels like you are THE songwriter
And you're also his partner so like
Your opinion is a very big deal
And he's also so excited when you let him listen to a preview of your newest work
Is always awestruck
(Any song of yours would be his favourite lmao, and the best part of it is that he means it)
Han
He would LOVE to have a partner in the industry
Or just connected to art somehow, even if it's just a hobbie
I mean, look at his lyrics
Bro inhales and exhales art
The fact that you understand this side of him and even share this interest is so what he needed
He's also very very helpful when you need to write songs
I see late night dates in the studio
Even when any of you is far away for whatever reason
It can be 2am in Korea, he will be on his phone more than willing to listen to you brainstorm
Brainstorming with Han would be very fun overall lmao
It's either going to be the most sentimental thing to ever exist or it's going to be complete nonsense lmao
Oh and he would also make a lot of references to things you wrote
And would be so so so so happy if you ever made a reference to a work of his
Felix
I remember he said once that if he wasn't an idol, he would like to be a professional songwriter
So the fact that YOU are a songwriter/producer
He kinda loves you a little bit too much
One thing he loves is to understand your thought process
If you ever let him see your notes,he will try his best to understand every little thing
Even if it's only words with no correlation all over the page
He loves to know how your mind works
And he wants to know where the inspiration comes from!
(If it's from him he will never shut up about it)
Loves to know the stories behind each one of your works
He feels like he gets to know you a little more every time he listens to something that is yours
Is always covering one of your songs on lives
Seungmin
Literally everything you could've asked for, both in the dating aspects and in professional aspects
He makes sure you never overwork but will never restrain you from your work
Like, he knows that sometimes the inspiration comes at 2AM. He won't shut off your notebook, he'll be up with you and guarantee you don't stress
And he's your most honest critic
If you need help with rhymes, structure, chords or whatever, he is there
(After dating him you rarely browse anything at Google anymore, seungmin always understands the specific vibes you want)
And if you are a songwriter/ composer who doesn't know how to sing (that's me criticising myself) he always volunteers to make the demo for your songs
As I said, everything you could've ever asked for in a partner and coworker
I.N
Now this one
The moment he discovered he was begging to see some of your work
It's crazy how many of your songs were included in the playlist he has of songs that remind him of you😭
Talk about soulmates
I also believe that he would love to help you with songs
Give him one chance and this man is already with a notebook open trying to come up with the best verse ever
But he really likes to hear you brainstorm as well
Just you in your comfort zone really makes him admire you
And he loves how he can feel closer to you
Just reading the lyrics you wrote ou listening to the beat you produced makes him feel like he is meeting you for the first time again
Always having a new impression of you
Will also sing any demos you want him to!
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Masterlist | you'll probably like: if skz wrote a song for you
Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Taglist: @yuyubeans
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sameschmidtdiffname · 3 months
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Princess
Mike Schmidt x Female! Reader
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Summary: You detest having a roommate. You enjoy cheap rent. One of these things is going to have to change at some point, and with the week you're having? There's only so long before people reach a breaking point.
Tags: Smut. Filthy smut. (This is the first smut I've published too, so enjoy that.) Enemies to lovers, mocking, Mike is so OoC at some parts you could really shove anyone into this role, I'm going to be so extremely for real. (I'm honestly just feral for the actor. Sorry.) Hate fucking, dirty talk, cursing, cucking(??), listening in, masturbating, dumbification, slight dacrophillia(??), Abby's out of the equation for this scenario. Imagine like, early 20s Mike, he's not caretaker yet. Praising, pet names (good girl, princess, whore, pretty girl), no use of Y/N. Dom! Mike, teasing Reader, Brat (??) Reader, phone sex, walking in on masturbation, walking in on sex, possessive! Mike, hickies/bite marks, finger sucking, hair pulling, slut shaming, probably missing some things imma be honest. Just assume this is depraved.
Notes: I'd like to apologize to God and Josh Hutcherson. This is filth and I recognize my eternal soul is indeed damned. Anyways, bone apple teet.
▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎
I didn't mind Mike when I met him, you know.
He's quiet. Shy. Keeps to himself. Those traits should make for a good roommate. If he'd kept his mess confined to his room, maybe the music that he blares just a little too loudly wouldn't be so headache inducing.
My fingers rap on the thin door, demanding his attention which is never given to me unless I make a production out of it. We both know that.
"Michael," I say.
Silence.
"Mike."
Nothing.
I open the door and there he is, peacefully asleep on his bed as the bass shakes the water in his glass. I sigh and click off the stereo, then turn to leave. It's incredible how quickly I hear him shift on the bed, scrambling to stand.
"The fuck?" He croaks, wiping sleep from his eyes.
"Your music was blaring. I already heard it from Mrs. Jones upstairs about you waking her kid up, I'm not dealing with that again," I say raising my hands up in the air defensively.
"I don't sleep well," he says.
"Neither does the baby," I say.
Mike rolls his eyes, turning the music back on and turning his back to me.
"Michael-"
"Don't call me that," he interrupts.
It's my turn to roll my eyes. "Schmidt, can you at least turn it down? I'm asking nicely," I say. He stands there for a moment and though I can't see his face, I know he's thinking.
Finally, with a sigh he says "Fine, princess."
"Don't call me that," I say. I hear a small huff of laughter from him and he turns to look at me.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?" He asks with false sympathy.
"It's a simple request," I say. My eyes narrow at him in irritation.
"Which one?"
"Both."
We stand there for a moment, both of us sizing the other up, taking each other in.
"Fine."
"Fine."
"Fine."
With the agreement having been made, I turn to leave, shutting the door behind me.
Year long lease. Joy.
-Tuesday-
"Hurry up!" Yells Mike, pounding on the bathroom door.
"I'm fucken hurrying!" I yell back, my hands working as fast as they can to wash off my body. Late alarm, fever dreams causing me to wake in a pool of stinking sweat, and one bathroom make for a horrendous cocktail of repeated 'fuck you's through the cheap door.
"I'm gonna be late!" Mike yells.
"So am I, I'm sorry!"
There's a moment of long silence and I think maybe Mike has finally found a spot of pity, realizing that maybe we aren't enemies but simply humans who unfortunately have to coexist in this world together. Then the water turns freezing, and I realize I hate him.
"Michael!" I practically scream. Traces of soap still reside on my body, but the cold and my alarm both force me out. Angered and not thinking clearly, I wrap the towel around my dripping waist and swing the door open.
"Are you fucking happy?" I sneer, face inches from his.
His expression is initially satisfied, but as his eyes flicker downwards he and I both realize my mistake. His eyes widen, lingering for a moment on my bare chest as he processed what he was seeing, then returning to meet my glare.
"What?" I ask sharply. "You've never seen a pair before?"
He stammers. "I-I have."
"Don't act like it," I say. "Take a fucken photo, be the only pair you'll probably ever see in your life, dicksmack."
As though he remembers himself, his eyes narrow. "Move, princess."
I slam past him, walking quickly towards my room and slamming the door behind me.
"Don't wake the baby!" Mike mocks down the hall.
Oh, motherfucker. It is on.
-Wednesday-
It's hard to break a lease. It's harder when nothing as cheap exists in the area. This is a problem for both Mike and I. I know it's true for him because apparently even his bills are too troublesome to keep on the floor of his room. But despite his mess, it's him that comes barreling down the hall, bursting into my room with no warning.
"Jesus, Michael!" I start, spinning around in my chair. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"
"Have you ever heard of washing a dish?" He sneers. "It's not hard. My baby sister could do it."
"Oh, is she available? I'd love to see how she'd handle your laundry situation," I retort.
"Why is it impossible for you to actually wash something? You'll put water in it, let it soak. I respect that, but then you never come back to it. Do you enjoy flies? I think you enjoy flies," he says with hate dripping off of his words. I roll my eyes, but he's not entirely wrong either.
"Fine," I mutter. "I'll do the dishes. Sorry."
"See? Look at how hard that was, princess." He begins to turn away.
"Will you quit fucking calling me that?" I snap.
"I'm following our bargin. You're the one who slips first, princess," he says while laughing, raising his hands in defense.
A long moment passes, neither of us willing to back down.
"Do the dishes yourself," I say finally, turning back to the computer.
"Not my mess," he says.
"Too bad. I'm too delicate," I say with a faux breathiness to my voice. The door slams behind him, which has me instantly rising from my chair to race after him.
"Don't slam my door!" I say.
"You did it the other day!" He says, spinning around to face me and almost slipping on one of his shirts littering the hall. I can't help but smile at that.
"Problems?" I ask.
"Yeah, they exist in whatever demon spawned you," he hisses. His eyes catch on something though, narrowing as he leans slightly closer. "The fuck is on your neck?" He asks.
"The fuck you mean 'the fuck is on my neck?'" I ask.
"I mean you've got something on your neck," he says.
"No I don't," I say. "Move." I shove past him to enter the bathroom beside us, flicking on the light and feeling my irritation rise as he reaches to do the same thing simultaneously.
"See?" He says, pointing at a small, dark mark on my neck.
Fuck.
"I don't fucken know what that is," I lie, covering it with my hand.
"You liar, that's a hickey!" He says still pointing at it.
"Is not!"
"Is too. What, are you fucking some high-schooler?" He scoffs.
"Adults leave hickies too, Mike. It can be enjoyable. You'd know this if someone ever wanted to fuck you," I spit back.
"Who on earth would enjoy having sex with you?" He asks. "The only loads you leave attract flies I don't want to have to deal with come summer."
My jaw drops in shock.
"And the only loads you leave smell like menthols and depression!" I retort.
Staring. Always staring with this guy. Jaws clentched, eyes narrowed.
"Just don't bring this guy around here," he finally says. His voice is quieter but the edge is still there.
I blink. "What?"
"You heard me," he says. "I don't need to hear your shrill voice like that."
Am I imagining things or is he blushing? No, I'm definitely imagining things. It's the florescents.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I taunt. The fuck kind of response was that?
His eyes widen slightly. "No," he says a little too quickly.
"What, you get one look at my tits and now you're thinking about that degenerate shit?" I press, stepping closer.
"I don't- this-" He's blundering. I've got him now, I've found his weak spot.
Without a word, I slip out of the bathroom and return to my room, shutting the door and beginning a plan that will guarantee I won't have to worry about being the roommate that breaks lease and looks for a new apartment.
-Thursday-
"Are you close, baby?" The sweet voice on the phone asks me. The battery on my toy is flashing, showing one of us needs to finish soon. And while I like Nick, there was just something lacking in him that kept me on this irritating edge, hiding my release from me.
"I'm close," I confirm, switching hands to try and hit a new angle. The video on the computer is doing nothing to help with this at all, and I'm so bored I'm tempted to just fake it and seal the deal.
The plan was simple. Establish dominance over my roommate via fucking a guy I'd met at some party the week before. Nick was an easy target, too busy thinking with his dick to question why I was suddenly insistent on him coming over. And to guarantee his presence at the apartment, I would have to put in work. Not that I wasn't fully uninterested. He was alright, I was single. Beneficial for everyone involved.
The vibrator finally found that sweet spot, the one that made me cry out softly into the receiver as my wrist pumped with newfound vigor.
"Close," I told Nick. "Isn't as good as you though."
Nick chuckles softly. "You're sweet," he says. Then he's prattling sweet praises, whimpering into the phone breathily along with me as I finally begin to tip over the edge, moaning loudly and clearly. It's my luck that Mike should be at work at this moment.
Should be.
Wasn't.
The door opens as Mike walks in, his mind obviously focused on something else but immediately taken aback at the sight of me sprawled upon the bed, legs open, toy in hand, Nick on phone, porn on computer. Shit.
"Jesus!" Mike shouts. "It's the middle of the day!"
"Get the fuck out!" I shout back, my voice less vicious than I'd like given that I was mid-ruined orgasm. Mike covers his eyes, trying to stumble out of the door without looking, muttering a dozen apologies a second before finally reaching and slamming the door shut behind him.
Nick and I are both silent for a long while, neither of us sure what to say.
"So... I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask finally.
"...yeah." He says. And with the click of my phone, the plan is solidified.
-
I don't see Mike that evening until about three hours later when he finally emerges from his room with pink cheeks and clothed in a large hoodie he seems to wish would swallow him whole.
"Hey," I say to him. I chew on my cheap food slowly, flipping through my novel at the cluttered table.
"Hi," he says quietly, not really making eye contact with me. He crosses to the cabinets, taking out a glass and filling it with water. We listen to the tap for a moment before I finally say "I didn't mean for you to see that."
His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "I got that."
More silence. The tap shuts off and he leans against the sink, taking a long sip.
"So... hickey guy?" He finally asks. And I can't help the snort that escapes me.
"Nick," I say.
"And he's...?" Mike is testing the waters, that much is obvious.
"Canadian," I say.
Mike nods. Sip. Silence.
"Nick, from Canada," he says slowly.
"Yep," I say, popping the 'p.'
Mike looks at his drink in thought.
"So you're into Canadians," he finally says. I think for a moment.
"No," I say. I mark my book and close it. "Just bored."
"Just bored?" Mike asks.
"Just bored," I confirm.
Sip. Silence. Thinking.
"You... do that regularly?" He asks.
"I mean... I like sex," I say.
His cheeks redden at that, and he takes another sip as though to hide that.
"He's coming over tomorrow," I say casually. Mike's eyes dart to mine, dark and wide.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Another sip. He finishes his glass.
"Should I find plans for tomorrow?" He asks finally.
"No," I say a bit too quickly. Both of our cheeks redden at that. "I mean, we won't... shouldn't...." I don't know what I mean.
Mike stares at me thoughtfully for a moment then looks back to the glass in his hand.
"You're pretty loud, princess," he finally says quietly.
There's a new tension in the air. One that isn't brought on by hate or dirty dishes. One that I don't mind strangely.
"You could join us, if you'd like," I offer. Mike's grip on the glass tightens so suddenly I'm almost surprised it doesn't burst.
"I- I'm pretty sure I'd get in the way," he stammers. Then his eyes darken, a strange look in them. "Besides, I don't like being a whore."
This comment stings. Deeply.
"I'm not a whore," I say defensively.
"Oh?" Mike asks.
"He's the only guy I've fucked in months, so yeah," I say.
"Oh, is that why I hear you moaning late at night all the fucking time?" Mike says. "Seriously, you're fucking loud."
"And you're a fucking virgin," I snap.
"Says who?" He asks.
"Forget it," I say. I gather my things and rise from my chair. "Don't fucking talk to me."
"Fine," he scoffs. "I'll wash this dish too, princess," he calls after me.
I spin around. "You would be so much more fuckable if you were easy to swallow," I snapped, stomping my foot like a child.
Both of us stare at each other in a bit of shock at what I just said.
"Most girls swallow just fine, thank you," he retorts.
"Who's the whore now?" I say. I don't wait for him to respond, slamming the door shut behind me.
Fine. Let him hate me. That's the whole point of this anyways. Then it'll be me and someone else in this terrible fucking apartment. Maybe it'll be Nick. Anyone would be better, I tell myself.
...
...how easy is Mike to swallow?
-Friday-
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't struggling to remember the correct name right now.
Nick is underneath me, pumping his cock in and out like no tomorrow as I grind against him. My jaw is slack, my hands buried in the blankets fabric underneath of us. I'm staring at the thin door though, the thin door that I know leaks every little noise whether there's a towel under the enormous crack or not. And the shadows of footsteps that I see make it all the easier for Nick to continue his shallow rhythm, edging me closer and closer.
"Mi-Nick," I moan loudly. It sounds endearing, thankfully. But my heart races at how close I've come to fucking things up in a few different ways. "Fuck, you're thick," I moan. It's not particularly true, but his size is fine, so what's an ego boost to help him along the way?
Nick is sweet underneath of me, moaning that I'm his, that we're each others. That's great and all, but God. There is this missing edge. And it isn't until I hear pounding on the bedroom door that I finally feel real excitement begin to flow through me.
"We need to talk," Mike's voice says firmly.
Nick looks guilty, his eyes wide and asking for silent guidance. I don't respond, simply continuing to slide up and down Nick's cock and moaning while doing so.
"Hey, princess," Mike says firmer, pounding on the door again. "Think you can stop Oh-ing Canada and come talk to me like a fucking adult?"
I don't stop, grinding harder against Nick's base. My hands find my clit, rubbing it as I respond.
"I told you you were welcome to join us," I moan. Nick looks at me like I've gone utterly insane, and maybe I have. Maybe I'm completely delusional about all of this, but I couldn't care less as I feel my dripping cunt tighten to the point even Nick doesn't care what happens so long as he comes inside of me.
"Mi-Nick," I moan. "Mi-ne, mi-ne." Come on, Schmidt. Catch the fucking hint.
All night I had been plauged with dreams about Michael fucking Schmidt. I'd noticed when we met he was attractive to me. I liked his hands, his stubble. God, his shoulders made me think things that will probably send me straight to Hell. But hate usually kept these thoughts at bay. Last night however, the dreams wouldn't stop coming. Over and over, a new fantasy of him emerged in my head. Him underneath of me as a writing mess, him begging for more, my tits in his mouth as he finished inside me. It was depraved. I wanted it.
The door bursts open just as Nick is finishing inside of me. It's the look in Mike's eyes that causes me to finish, all while keeping eye contact with him as well.
Nick is quick to flip me on my back, covering my body haphazardly with a blanket prattling excuse after excuse. Apparently we're sorry. Apparently we had gotten too wrapped up in the moment because apparently, you know how it is, right man?
But it doesn't matter. Mike isn't looking at Nick, who's pulling on his shirt above me. Mike's looking at me, watching my fingers that trail gently along my areolas, flicking lightly at my hardened nipples and clearly longing for more.
"Mike wouldn't know the first thing about pleasing a woman," I say with little thought.
"Oh?" Both of them ask me.
"I think you should leave, Nick. Mike and I are going to have a little talk, and I don't want you to see how ugly this may get," I say without breaking eye contact with Mike.
The sudden shift in the air is not subtle, so maybe that's why Nick doesn't really hesitate to listen to me.
"I'll call you later," he says as he stumbles past Mike.
"Don't bother," Mike calls after him. Mike slams the bedroom door shut, locking it before turning to me and raising an eyebrow.
"Is there something you'd like to say to me?" Mike asks, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms as his stands tall.
My hand dips to between my thighs where Nick and I's cum pools out, coating me in the thick stuff.
"Sorry," I say in a spoiled tone, smiling.
Mike's eyes scan my entire body. From the hickies coating my neck, to my breasts and even my thighs, I can see a new wave of anger washes over him. At least, it looks like anger. There's something else mixed with it too, something I desperately want to play with.
"You're not sorry for shit," he says. He's correct.
"I told you last night, I like fucking people," I say as my fingers circle my clit.
Mike's jaw tightens. "You like fucking people," he repeats.
I can see him grind his teeth. He's silent for another moment. "And do you like... him?"
I giggle. "You tell me," I say with a soft and low voice.
His eyebrows twitch. "You're still... going?" He asks with an unsure edge to his voice.
"Yes, Michael. This is what a woman looks like when she's turned on," I say in a mocking tone, batting my lashes as my fingers dip into my entrance. "Would you like to try?"
He steps closer, bending down ever so slightly to stand over me.
"Don't call me that," he says in a low growl.
"Make me," I taunt.
He blinks.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
A startled yelp escapes me as Mike grabs my hips, dragging me roughly to the edge of the bed. He spreads my legs, stepping between them and slips his rough thumb inside of me with no hesitation.
"Fuck. You do like him," he groans, his other hand fiddling with his belt. I can see how hard he is underneath his jeans, his fingers clumsy but working quickly at the items covering him.
"He's oka-ay," I say quickly, my voice trailing off into a soft moan. His thumb explores the inside of my cunt, probing the wet muscle and massaging inside of me spots a man had never taken time to look for before. "Your finger's thick," I moan.
Mike chuckles, freeing himself and pumping into his hand slowly as he presses his thumb deeper inside of me.
"You told Nick he was thick too," he says. "That just your line with guys?"
It is, but this time I actually mean it. So I shake my head. "No," I say quietly.
"I don't believe you," Mike says. He slips his thumb out of me, making me clench around nothing. I open my mouth to protest only for Mike to quickly shove his thumb into my mouth, touching the back of my throat while he sinks his cock into me.
"Go on, pretty girl," he moans. "Take it like the proud whore you are."
I gag around his thumb, both from the sudden intrusion and from the taste. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't like this, if I said that his actions didn't make me even more wet and that I didn't suck his thumb greedily, wrapping my tongue around it and sucking it clean until I can only taste his rough flesh. I swear it makes his dick twitch.
His cock slides in and out of me with ease, taking his time to feel how I wrap around him.
"Fuck," he drawls. "It's been awhile."
I moan around his thumb, running my tongue along the underside and trying to rock my hips against him to tell him to speed up. Instead, he presses a hand down on my lower stomach, pinning me down as he sinks in fully. At first glance his size is average, but inside of me it's overstimulating how he fills me just a little too much.
His thumb presses further into my throat, making me gag as he tilts his head back in pleasure.
"You are just demanding. Do you know that?" He asks. I try to respond, but he simply presses his thumb against a spot that makes me gag once more.
"Nothing's good enough for you. Not even Nick. You didn't even cum until I came in here," he laughed cruelly, looking down at where we connect. His other thumb trails down to rub my clit slowly, making me writhe underneath him and clench around his still cock.
"Never shutting up. Till now. I like it when you're quiet, princess. Makes you easier to swallow." He presses deeper inside of me, making me whine in overstimulation.
"You're mine now," he says, slowly pulling out. "You can call Nick all you want. Call him, fuck him. But we both know he's not gonna make you cum like I will." Just his tip remains in me, barely staying in before he slams back into me so hard I scream.
"So what's the point?" Mike asks, slowly slipping out once more. "Do you like pitting men against each other like that?" He slams back into me. My eyes water, but I don't protest.
This time when he pulls back, he stays there. I wait for him, trying to he patient. But then he removes his thumb and wraps his hand around his length instead.
"What?" I ask, my voice raw.
"Say it," Mike says as he jerks himself off slowly.
"Say what?" I ask.
"I'm not gonna fuck you like you want unless you say you're mine," he says casually. His tip is bright red and leaking precum, his length coated in Nick and I's milky cum.
"Fuck you," I say. Mike just laughs.
"You're the one laying here crying over some dick," he taunts. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page here, princess."
I try to hold strong, I really do. It'd be more fun if I did. But fuck. The way he stands over me, his shoulders broad. I could never deny I liked the sight of his hands either, and seeing them tug as his pulsing cock while he stared down at me with that stupid fucking smile?
It's not fair.
"I'm yours," I say quietly.
"Hmm?" Mike asks, pumping his dick quicker now. I can see how hard his veins are, and the sounds of him fucking his own hand make me want him more.
"Yours," I repeat slightly louder.
"Use proper English," he says. His face has this stupid blissful look on it, his mouth slightly open as he pants, fucking himself and watching me as he does.
"I am yours," I hiss through gritted teeth. It doesn't even take a full second before he's buried in me once more, his hands pinning my knees to my shoulders and fucking me with enough speed I'm genuinely scared he'll hurt me. And I love it.
"I'm going to make you mine," he grins, his voice suddenly turning feral.
"I'm going to make you mine so much that you won't even be able to remember what Nick's name is, let alone what he looks like. Or what he feels like."
"Uh huh," I whine. My voice is so unusually high and ragged, my mouth slack and eyes rolling back in pleasure. I rock against his hips, trying to find my second edge. I'm babbling, whether I'm asking for mercy or more is anyone's guess.
He laughs at me, and it's a harsh and cruel laugh - not at all like the usual sarcasm and mockery he displays. Instead, his laugh comes from a place that is raw and angry and vicious, the kind of laugh a wolf makes when he's about to go for the kill.
"What's the matter?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Not quite the big, bad man that he's made you think he was, is he? How disappointing," he continues, his hips thrusting into me repeatedly.
I cry loudly with each new thrust. His movements are cruel, borderline abusive. Christ, I love it.
"Bigger," I whine. "Bigger."
He teeth nip at my throat, sinking in hard enough I'll be wearing sweaters and scarves for weeks. Makeup won't touch the color.
"Bigger?" He asks in a mocking voice. "What's bigger?"
"You're bigger," I moan. My voice is broken, and there's no way the neighbors don't hear the degeneracy occurring around them. Sorry, Mrs. Jones.
"What are you going for?" he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his voice growing more and more vicious. "Big bad Mike?" he giggles, his grip tightening on my ankles as he continues plunging into me.
A loud scream escapes me as Mike finds my g spot. He doesn't relent, focusing on the spot and abusing it while I sob and try to wiggle away, completely overstimulated from pleasure and unable to handle it.
His hands pin me against him, trapping me where I am and forcing me to take him however he wants me to.
"You want more?" he asks, taking one hand away from my ankles, grabbing and pulling my hair harshly, forcing me to stare into his eyes. His pupils are so blown out I can't even see his pretty hazel irises. They're dark and predatory, his breath hot and heavy with rage.
"Is that what you want?" he asks, pulling back and plunging into my aching cunt again.
"Yes!" It's a violent scream that escapes me, feeling myself begin to tip over the edge. His eyes sparkle, his lips in a smile that shows he knows he's won.
"And what would Nick say if he could see you like this? All mine, all mine..." he taunts.
"Huh?" I'm completely stupid, my body coming undone so suddenly around his dick with cries, screams, whimpers and everything inbetween. Nick was foreplay and I've no mental energy to remember any detail that isn't Mike's.
"Don't even know his name?" Mike laughs. "You can't even remember his name, can you?" he grins, his eyes narrow again as he tugs my hair and shoves himself in further.
"Uh uh," I pant in a high voice. My body shakes terribly, his pounding length already edging me once more as he continues abusing my spot. How on earth am I supposed to walk after this?
"Then let me help you remember his name," he says. "Say his name."
"Mike," I moan pathetically. I'm right back on that edge, crying and feeling as though I'll burst from overstimulation.
"Louder," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Say it louder. Say his name loud enough for him to hear you."
"Mike!" I scream it religiously as I come undone a second time, gripping him to the point I can feel how close he is too. I hear him laugh above me, his other hand now wrapping around my throat and choking me slightly.
"That's my name," he says with mocking gentleness. "Say his name or I won't finish."
"I don't remember," I sob. Jesus Christ, do I have problems? "Just want you!"
His face glows, his lips split into a wide grin of satisfaction.
"So you want me, do you, princess?"
I nod pathetically. He's throbbing, slamming into me hard enough it may draw a third climax in a row.
His laugh is cruel above me, his lips landing on top of mine in a wet, possessive kiss. His tongue fills my mouth, forcing me to take him as the sounds of him fucking me like a depraved animal makes me whine in desperation.
He pulls away, a long string of spit between us connecting our lips.
"Then I'll give you what you want, princess," he says. "But there's a price."
"Uh huh," I agree. My eyes roll back as my body twitches, barely able to focus as he thrusts into me.
"Look at me," he says patiently, tugging my hair once more. When I manage to remember how, he let's out a long 'aw,' smiling down at me with false sweetness as I stare dumbly into his eyes. I suppose I'm staring into his eyes. God, I'm stupid.
His thumb grazes my jaw, tutting as he examines my face closely.
"Your eyes are pretty...*" he says, his voice sweet and tender, almost like I've made him soft and vulnerable, but his cock pounding into me causes the beginning of a headache that won't let me forget how much we hate each other. "Your eyes are pretty, your mouth is pretty..."
I lick my lips and nod lightly.
"You are just such a pretty girl, aren't you?" He asks. I nod, my body twitching uselessly as my third climax washes over me.
"Good girl," he praises. "All fucked out over me. That's good."
Suddenly and without warning, he pulls out quickly and shoves my face down close to his cock, coming all over my face. It's thick and everywhere. In my hair, my mouth. I can't even open my eyes.
"Stay like that," Mike commands as he lays me on my back. His softening cock reenters me and pumps lazily, his purpose to make sure he's fully emptied.
"Any new thoughts?" He asks me in a strange tone, light and amused. I simply moan, relishing the moment. He chuckles and spreads my legs so he can better see what is happening between us. It isn't until I hear the chime of his camera confirming a recording that I realize what he's done.
"Mike?" I ask, barely able to think straight.
A low laugh escapes him, cruel but warm.
"I want to show your new boyfriend the real you," he says. "Make sure we're all on the same page here, right?
...Fuck me, I have problems.
¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤
Thanks for reading, pookies. See y'all in hell.
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sweaterkittensahoy · 7 months
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Stop misappropriating the abuse and trauma cults use through purity culture for your stupid fucking shipping discourse? Holy fuck no wonder everyone hates this whole discourse.
Since when is "priests getting shuffled around after raping kids and kids being told they're sinful because they had bodily reactions to being SAd" comparable to "Bobo the clown said my ship was cringe"
I'm not gonna answer this with The Aristocrats, as a I threatened, because I want to make a very serious point to this anon:
Purity culture isn't just religious abuse. It is most widely connected to religious abuse. Including actions in the Catholic Church and all fundamentalist Christianity. It's entire existence is about terrifying and indoctrinating people into being fearful of their own actions and bodies so that they feel certain that moving out from the "umbrella of safety" (to use a fundamentalist term) will result in them being harmed in ways they can't imagine. This is generally happening at the same time as they are being harmed by those who are supposed to be keeping them safe from all those terrible, worldly evils. Like speaking up when you're being abused. Believing you are not responsible for the actions of a rapist, and many, many other things that any person with an ounce of self-worth and good sense (two things not allowed in fundamentalist circles) knows are true in abuse situations.
But the point of the purity culture as identity in the above-mentioned circles is to teach people from birth that they aren't to have their own feelings, ideas, or instincts. They are only to follow the feelings, ideas, and instincts on the approved list in order to stay within the structures they know and feel safe in even as they feel very unsafe.
That being said:
Purity culture can also exist WITHOUT a religious structure while still being about controlling the thoughts, feelings, and actions of everyone within it. In terms of fandom, purity culture is groups of people stating that if you write something uncomfortable or gross or immoral, then YOU must be uncomfortable or gross or immoral and therefore, not worthy of the safety and moral superiority of the group.
Purity culture without religion teaches black and white thinking, encourages thought policing, and shames anyone who steps outside of a very narrow definition of good and bad by turning an entire group of people against them for being "bad".
Just like in religious circles.
Just like in the cult of fundamentalism.
Purity culture is a term taken by fundamentalists and turned into a whole way of life because the goal of fundamentalism is to make people too scared to leave. Purity culture in fandom does the same thing. It uses fear and threats of abandonment/harassment to control the way people act because a group of people decided they didn't like something, so they must try and wipe it out rather than simply ignore it.
I am not mis-using the term because "Bobo the clown said my ship was cringe." My use of the term is intentional and precise because what is happening in fandom spaces now is non-religious purity culture cult thinking. My use of the term does not invalidate or water down the use of it in conversations about religious abuse and trauma. With or without religion, purity culture is a dangerous cult of "us vs them" that is built to demoralize and eradicate those deemed unworthy.
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HIHIHJI HOW ARE YOUUU???!
i've been reading your fics (?) for a while, and your writting is sooo hot in a way that i can't even explain it 😭😭❤️
i just had a silly and funny imagination haha..., gamerbf! scara who was pissed at his teammates for playing shitty and took his frustration out on his girlfriend?? omgf
FEEL FREE TO IGNORE IF YOU AREN'T TAKING REQUESTSS OFCCC <333
(yes, thjs is smut ahahaha..)
HIHIHIII IM DOING WELL ACTUALLY!! I was simply hibernating (resting) for a few days. I hope you're doing well, anon <3
"Fucking shitheads... can't even play correctly.."
Scara cursed under his breath, his eye twitching with fuming anger that was about to burst at any minute. His nimble fingers hover across his keyboard, the sound of clicking from his keyboard and mouse can be heard.
Being his girlfriend has it's perks, though it can be boring when he's all quiet and focused on a game instead of you but you know, at least Scara's nice enough to let you sit on his lap... with the exceptions of you cockwarming him while he plays his game.
His cock was angled in a way that made your walls fluttering around it, quietly squeezing his throbbing length that was kissing your sweet spots so nicely.
"S-Shit.. you gotta stop squeezing me."
You gulped, fidgeting your fingers. God, how can you? You can't control it, his dick was too good for you to not react a thing to it.
For a while now, you've been cock warming him for how long... half an hour? And by what you can see in his screen, the bolded words of "defeat" made your boyfriend very much irritated.
"These losers can't even play this fucking game correctly! My fucking god.."
He groaned at of annoyance, and after so long, he's finally paying attention to you.
Well, he's paying attention to you by fucking his dick into you. He pushed your face onto his desk, ramming his length from behind at a ruthless pace that leaves you gasping and moaning for him.
"scarascarascara! fuckfuckfuck, right there! s-scara!"
Like a bitch in heat, you moan and cry out for him. His fucking you so well, so good, you're already creaming on his cock already. He's muttering curses under his breath, mercilessly pounding into you. At this point, he'll probably mess up his setup doing this bullshit, but he gives no fuck afterall. Your pussy is just that good, like a little stress reliever for him.
For who knows how long he's going to fuck you? Not like you're complaining, he's already shooting thick n' warm ropes of cum inside of you. His dick is already coated with your cum, he'll probably make you clean it off of him after stupefying you.
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cripplecharacters · 22 days
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The Mask Trope, and Disfiguremisia in Media
[large text: The Mask Trope, and Disfiguremisia in Media]
If you followed this blog for more than like a week, you're probably familiar with “the mask trope” or at least with me complaining about it over and over in perpetuity. But why is it bad and why can't this dude shut up about it?
Let's start with who this trope applies to: characters with facial differences. There is some overlap with blind characters as well; think of the blindfold that is forced on a blind character for no reason. Here is a great explanation of it in this context by blindbeta. It's an excellent post in general, even if your character isn't blind or low vision you should read at least the last few paragraphs.
Here's a good ol’ tired link to what a facial difference is, but to put it simply:
If you have a character, who is a burn survivor or has scars, who wears a mask, this is exactly this trope.
The concept applies to other facial differences as well, but scars and burns are 99% of the representation and “representation” we get, so I'll be using these somewhat interchangeably here.
The mask can be exactly what you think, but it refers to any facial covering that doesn't have a medical purpose. So for example, a CPAP mask doesn't count for this trope, but a Magic Porcelain Mask absolutely does. Bandages do as well. If it covers the part of the face that is “different”, it can be a mask in the context used here.
Eye patches are on thin ice because while they do serve a medical purpose in real life, in 99.9% of media they are used for the same purpose as a mask. It's purely aesthetic.
With that out of the way, let's get into why this trope sucks and find its roots. Because every trope is just a symptom of something, really.
Roughly in order of the least to most important reasons...
Why It Sucks 
[large text: Why It Sucks]
It's overdone. As in — boring. You made your character visibly different, and now they're no longer that. What is the point? Just don't give them the damn scar if you're going to hide it. 
Zero connection with reality. No one does this. I don't even know how to elaborate on this. This doesn't represent anyone because no one does this.
Disability erasure. For the majority of characters with facial differences, their scars or burns somehow don't disable them physically, so the only thing left is the visible part… aaand the mask takes care of it too. Again, what's the point? If you want to make your disabled character abled, then just have them be abled. What is the point of "curing" them other than to make it completely pointless?
Making your readers with facial differences feel straight up bad. I'm gonna be honest! This hurts to see when it's all you get, over and over. Imagine there's this thing that everyone bullied you about, everyone still stares at, that is with you 24/7. Imagine you wanted to see something where people like you aren't treated like a freakshow. Somewhat unrealistic, but imagine that. That kind of world would only exist in fiction, right? So let's look into fiction- oh, none of the positive (or at least not "child-murderer evil") characters look like me. I mean they do, but they don't. They're forced to hide the one thing that connects us. I don't want to hide myself. I don't want to be told over and over that this is what people like me should do. That this is what other people expect so much that it's basically the default way a person with a facial difference can exist. I don't want this.
Perpetuating disfiguremisia. 
"Quick" Disfiguremisia Talk
[large text: "Quick" Disfiguremisia Talk]
It's quick when compared to my average facial difference discussion post, bear with me please.
Disfiguremisia; portmanteau of disfigure from “disfigurement” and -misia, Greek for hatred. 
Also known as discrimination of those mythical horrifically deformed people.
It shows up in fiction all the time; in-universe and in-narrative. Mask trope is one of the most common* representations of it, and it's also a trope that is gaining traction more and more, both in visual art and writing. This is a trope I particularly hate, because it's a blatant symptom of disfiguremisia. It's not hidden and it doesn't try to be. It's a painful remainder that I do not want nor need.
*most common is easily “evil disfigured villain”, just look at any horror media. But that's for another post, if ever.
When you put your character in a mask, it sends a clear message: in your story, facial differences aren't welcome. The world is hostile. Other characters are hostile. The author is, quite possibly, hostile. Maybe consciously, but almost always not, they just don't think that disfiguremisia means anything because it's the default setting. No one wants to see you because your face makes you gross and unsightly. If you have a burn; good luck, but we think you're too ugly to have a face. Have a scar? Too bad, now you don't. Get hidden.
Everything here is a decision that was made by the author. You are the one who makes the world. You are the person who decides if being disabled is acceptable or not there. The story doesn't have a mind of its own, you chose to make it disfiguremisic. 
It doesn't have to be.
Questions to Ask Yourself
[large text: Questions to Ask Yourself]
Since I started talking about facial differences on this blog, I have noticed a very specific trend in how facial differences are treated when compared to other disabilities. A lot of writers and artists are interested in worldbuilding where accessibility is considered, where disabled people are accepted, where neurodivergence is seen as an important part of the human experience, not something “other”. This is amazing, genuinely.
Yet, absolutely no one seems to be interested in a world that is anything but cruel to facial differences. There's no escapist fantasies for us.
You see this over and over, at some point it feels like the same story with different names attached.
The only way a character with a facial difference can exist is to hide it. Otherwise, they are shamed by society. Seen as something gross. I noticed that it really doesn't matter who the character is, facial difference is this great equalizer. Both ancient deities and talking forest cats get treated as the same brand of disgusting thing as long as they're scarred, as long as they had something explode in their face, as long as they've been cursed. They can be accomplished, they can be a badass, they can be the leader of the world, they can kill a dragon, but they cannot, under any circumstances, be allowed to peacefully exist with a facial difference. They have to hide it in the literal sense, or be made to feel that they should. Constantly ashamed, embarrassed that they dare to have a face.
Question one to ask yourself: why is disfiguremisia a part of your story?
I'm part of a few minority groups. I'm an immigrant, I'm disabled, I'm queer. I get enough shit in real life for this so I like to take a break once in a while. I love stories where transphobia isn't a thing. Where xenophobia doesn't come up. But my whole life, I can't seem to find stories that don't spew out disfiguremisia in one way or the other at the first possible opportunity.
Why is disfiguremisia a default part of your worldbuilding? Why can't it be left out? Why in societies with scarred saviors and warriors is there such intense disgust for them? Why can't anyone even just question why this is the state of the world?
Why is disfiguremisia normal in your story?
Question two: do you know enough about disfiguremisia to write about it?
Ask yourself, really. Do you? Writers sometimes ask if or how to portray ableism when they themselves aren't disabled, but no one bothers to wonder if maybe they aren't knowledgeable enough to make half their story about their POV character experiencing disfiguremisia. How much do you know, and from where? Have you read Mikaela Moody or any other advocates’ work around disfiguremisia? Do you understand the way it intersects; with being a trans woman, with being Black? What is your education on this topic?
And for USAmericans... do you know what "Ugly Laws" are, and when they ended?
Question three: what does your story associate with facial difference — and why?
If I had to guess; “shame”, “embarrassment”, “violence”, "disgust", “intimidation”, “trauma”, “guilt”, “evil”, “curse”, “discomfort”, “fear”, or similar would show up. 
Why doesn't it associate it with positive concepts? Why not “hope” or “love” or “pride” or “community”? Why not “soft” or “delicate”? Dare I say, “beauty” or “innocence”? Why not “blessing”? “Acceptance”?
Why not “normal”?
Question four: why did you make the character the way they are? 
Have you considered that there are other things than “horrifically burned for some moral failing” or “most traumatic scenario put to paper”? Why is it always “a tough character with a history of violence” and never “a Disfigured princess”? Why not “a loving parent” or “a fashionable girl”, instead of “the most unkind person you ever met” and “total badass who doesn’t care about anything - other than how scary their facial difference is to these poor ableds”? Don’t endlessly associate us with brutality and suffering. We aren’t violent or manipulative or physically strong or brash or bloodthirsty by default. We can be soft, and frail and gentle and kind - and we can still be proud and unashamed.
Question five: why is your character just… fine with all this?
Can’t they make a community with other people with facial differences and do something about this? Demand the right to exist as disabled and not have to hide their literal face? Why are they cool with being dehumanized and treated with such hatred? Especially if they fall into the "not so soft and kind" category that I just talked about, it seems obvious to me that they would be incredibly and loudly pissed off about being discriminated against over and over... Why can't your character, who is a subject of disfiguremisia, realize that maybe it's disfiguremisia that's the problem, and try to fix it?
Question six: why is your character wearing a mask? 
Usually, there's no reason. Most of the time the author hasn't considered that there even should be one, the character just wears a mask because that's what people with facial differences do in their mind. Most writers aren't interested in this kind of research or even considering it as a thing they should do. The community is unimportant to them, it's not like we are real people who read books. They think they understand, because to them it's not complex, it's not nuanced. It's ugly = bad. Why would you need a reason?
For cases where the reason is stated, I promise, I have heard of every single one. To quote, "to spare others from looking at them". I have read, "content warning: he has burn scars under the mask, he absolutely hates taking it off!", emphasis not mine. Because "he hates the way his skin looks", because "they care for their appearance a lot" (facial differences make you ugly, remember?). My favorite: "only has scars and the mask when he's a villain, not as a hero", just to subtly drive the point home. This isn't the extreme end of the spectrum. Now, imagine being a reader with a facial difference. This is your representation, sitting next to Freddy Krueger and Voldemort.
How do you feel?
F.A.Q. [frequently asked questions]
[large text: F.A.Q. [frequently asked questions]]
As in, answers and “answers” to common arguments or concerns. 
“Actually they want to hide their facial difference” - your character doesn’t have free will. You want them to hide it. Again; why.
“They are hiding it to be more inconspicuous!” - I get that there are elves in their world, but there’s no universe where wearing a mask with eye cutouts on the street is less noticeable than having a scar. Facial differences aren’t open wounds sprinkling with blood, in case that's not clear.
“It’s for other people's comfort” - why are other characters disfiguremisic to this extent? Are they forcing all minorities to stay hidden and out of sight too? That’s a horrible society to exist in.
“They are wearing it for Actual Practical Reason” - cool! I hope that this means you have other characters with facial differences that don’t wear it for any reason.
"It's the character's artistic expression" - I sure hope that there are abled characters with the same kind of expression then.
“They’re ashamed of their face” - and they never have any character development that would make that go away? That's just bad writing. Why are they ashamed in the first place? Why is shame the default stance to have about your own face in your story? I get that you think we should be ashamed and do these ridiculous things, but in real life we just live with it. 
"Now that you say that it is kinda messed up but I'm too far into the story please help" - here you go.
“[some variation of My Character is evil so it's fine/a killer so it fits/just too disgusting to show their disability” - this is the one of the only cases where I’m fine with disability erasure, actually. Please don’t make them have a facial difference. This is the type of harm that real life activists spend years and decades undoing. Disfiguremisia from horror movies released in the 70s is still relevant. It still affects people today.
"But [in-universe explanation why disfiguremisia is cool and fine actually]" - this changes nothing.
Closing Remarks
[large text: Closing Remarks]
I hope that this post explains my thoughts on facial difference representation better. It's a complicated topic, I get it. I'm also aware that this post might come off as harsh (?) but disfiguremisia shouldn't be treated lightly, it shouldn't be a prop. It's real world discrimination with a big chunk of its origins coming out of popular media.
With the asks that have been sent regarding facial differences, I realized that I probably haven't explained what the actual problems are well enough. It's not about some technical definition, or about weird in-universe explanations. It's about categorizing us as some apparently fundamentally different entity that can't possibly be kind and happy, about disfiguremisia so ingrained into our culture that it's apparently impossible to make a world without it; discrimination so deep that it can't be excised, only worked around. But you can get rid of it. You can just not have it there in the first place. Disfiguremisia isn't a fundamental part of how the world works; getting rid of it won't cause it to collapse. Don't portray discrimination as an integral, unquestionable part of the world that has to stay no matter what; whether it's ableism, transphobia, or Islamophobia or anything else. A world without discrimination can exist. If you can't imagine a world without disfiguremisia in fiction... that's bad. Sad, mostly. To me, at least.
Remember, that your readers aren't going to look at Character with a Scar #14673 and think "now I'm going to research how real life people with facial differences live." They won't, there's no inclination for them to do so. If you don't give them a reason, they won't magically start thinking critically about facial differences and disfiguremisia. People like their biases and they like to think that they understand.
And, even if you're explaining it over and over ;-) (winky face) there will still be people who are going to be actively resistant to giving a shit. To try and get the ones who are capable of caring about us, you, as the author, need to first understand disfiguremisia, study Face Equality, think of me as a human being with human emotions who doesn't want to see people like me treated like garbage in every piece of media I look at. There's a place and time for that media, and if you don't actually understand disfiguremisia, you will only perpetuate it; not "subvert" it, not "comment" on it.
I hope this helps :-) (smile emoji. for good measure)
Mod Sasza
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daydreamabout · 9 months
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3:15 (Oscar Diaz Imagine)
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Summary: You're in a situationship with Oscar, not sure if you want to be official. Inspired by 3:15 by Russ. All I ever tried to do was help you understand and grow Light the way for truths that if not for me simply wouldn't show 'Less you get somebody else who's on my level, but you know That there's no one on my level, you gon' realize if you don't I wish you would own up to your flaws And just say that you're wrong when you're wrong Instead of actin' like you're right, then it turns into a fight Now you're stormin' out my house in the middle of the night “What's on your mind?” Oscar interrupted your few kisses. You were currently all over him in your bedroom, as usually. You pecked his soft lips one more time and sighed “I don't think you should do it tomorrow.” you spoke softly. Your lover's dark eyes looked at you for a few seconds before he frowned “Don't start this shit again.” The anger about the same situation started to boil within you, so you got off of Oscar and laid on your back. “What is your problem?” you spat at him. The sudden tension in the room was obvious. He suddenly sat on the edge of your bed and gave you an intimidating look over his right. “I don't think we're close enough to have this kind of conversation!” “Wow.” You didn't know how else to react. He was obviously refering to the fact that you weren't sure how to label your 'thing'. You cared, a lot. But he was part of a gang and you cared too much about other people's opinions too. “I think you should go home. ”you let out bluntly without thinking. He turned his head away from you and let out a dry laugh “You know.... I fucking might!” and stormed off. ***
How come when I love somebody, part of me don't wanna stay? Every time I get too close, I just start pushing them away I know, I know Maybe I just wanna leave before they try to leave me first Maybe I don't wanna need 'em 'til they say they need me first I know, I know (yeah, yeah, yeah) Damned if I do, damned if I don't Drank Tequila, I can't drive home Hard to play cool, heart belongs to you I know that if I show that I keep my walls up, if you want me then you better start to climb WoMen who love me aren't rare WoMen who mean it hard to find Somethin' tells me that I'm right about you Please, don't prove me wrong They say love's a song for fools We're wise enough to sing along  “Back off!” you raised your voice and pushed the guy to the side. You were frustraded, ended up at someone's houseparty, drank enough Tequila to not drive home by yourself, but not enough to forget about Os. The porch made an exceptable place to sit down for a bit and re-think your previous thoughts. You wanted him. All to yourself. So you took all your courage and dialed his number. Oscar picked up after a while, but did not say anything. You could just see the seconds of the phonecall on your screen. “Can you pick me up?” you asked carefully. You could hear him sigh into the phone. “Where are you?” *** It took about 20 minutes until you could see the familiar red car pull into the street. You slowly got up and neared yourself the sidewalk. The car came to stand right in front of you, but before you even had the chance to get in, your lover already got out. He stood right in front of you and looked deep into your eyes. “You're in my head.” you said while pointing to your temple. The alcohol was definitely kicking. His eyes softened and you felt like there was a slight smile on his lips. He took your hand in his and placed a soft kiss on it “Get in the car, Y/N. ” You continued to stare into his eyes. “I want everyone to know about us. ” His face seemed to light up a bit. He pulled you in and kissed your forehead before whispering in your ear “Get in babe, we'll talk about it tomorrow.”
But now it's hard to breathe I'm not in love, it's just a game we do I tell myself I'm not that into you But I don't wanna sleep, it's quarter after three And now it's hard to breathe I'm not in love, it's just a thing we make We're skin on skin, I need this spell to break, oh But I don't wanna go, and I know that you know You're in my head like
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blujaymi · 1 year
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i have so many (very normal) thoughts about the way this episode handled the whole joel wanting tommy to take ellie to the fireflies plot
in the game, joel's feelings and internal struggle aren't explicitly told to you, just very heavily implied through little things (i.e. joel refusing the picture of sarah in the game, him saying "and you'll be doing even better with tommy", and overall just general knowledge of his character up until that point). in fact, i'd say joel attempts to hide his feelings from the player and tommy, his argument for tommy taking ellie simply being that she could be a cure. but for the purposes of moving on with the story, the implications told you all you needed to know about what the true reason was.
its implied that the reason joel wanted tommy to complete the trip with ellie is because he's scared. we assume the fact joel can't imagine not being able to protect ellie in the same way he couldn't protect sarah.
but in the show?
we get to see joel completely and utterly vulnerable for the first time. it's beautiful, and its so incredibly heartbreaking. joel tells tommy he's afraid. joel says he's too weak to protect ellie, and he's crying. after joel tells ellie about this, we are shown that he thinks of sarah. i was absolutely NOT expecting to see joel so desperate and so detailed in explaining why he wanted tommy to take ellie to the fireflies; moreover, i did not anticipate such an exploration of joel's thoughts.
but the unexpectedness is what makes it so perfect.
the level of emotion we get from joel in this scene is a testament to just how much he's grown to truly love ellie during their time together. we never see him so emotionally vulnerable until he's accepted how much he loves her. we're aware of this when playing the game, but we don't get to delve into it in such a way; it's just something that's understood.
the show doesn't stop at making us understand it. the sheer intensity of joel's feelings in the show make us as painfully aware of how terrified he is of losing ellie as joel is himself.
safe to say, i don't think i'm emotionally prepared for what's to come.
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agroupiewhore · 2 months
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Some random headcanons about what it would be like to date Enzo and a little imagine with him. I haven't wrote anything in ages so apologies if this is shite. Please no hate but let me know if you like this etc. I am always welcome to feedback/ thoughts/ comments/ concerns. Sorry in advance for grammar and spelling and punctuation
🐟🐳🐙🔵🪱
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(THIS MANS JAWLINE IS MORE STRUCTURED THAN MY LIFE)
*Disclaimer: This is my own work and my own self-indulgent ideas, none of this is based in reality. And warnings for making out etc, nothing too explicit (PG-13)
✨️ There is no way you ever have to carry your own bag. This man is rushing in to help you. Whether that's your handbag on date night or all of the shopping bags after your weekly grocery shop run. And yes, he refuses to make 2 trips to the car.
✨️ Speaking of weekly shops runs, Enzo is that boyfriend who always pushes the trolley/ cart.
✨️ Matching Adidas trackies. Never quite knowing whose joggers/ t shirts/ jackets that belonged to.
✨️ Wearing his boxers after sex to go down and make a fresh batch of coffee.
✨️ Is always entertaining you with unusual facts and information about Uruguay and is keen for you to learn and embrace his culture and he is keen to learn more about yours.
✨️ Matching your nail varnish to his bow tie/ tie/ shirt colour etc.
✨️ Midnight beach walks where you tell eachother all your hopes and dreams and desires, all the 'deep stuff' you feel you can't tell eachother when it's daylight as it seems to real.
✨️ This man can dance. He has so much natural rhythm and is such a natural. He'll always be the first one up on the dance floor at parties and cast parties and would much rather spend the time on the dance floor with you rather than talking. Also at home will put on whatever dance music he wants and will just start dancing with you.
✨️ Dressing up as Kylo Ren and Rey for Halloween. "Well I mean... I think we should go as them, it would look good" "Fine"
A Perfect Day
You went to open the fridge to find the pouring cream for your iced coffees but were distracted by the note attached to the front, wrote in Enzo's beautiful cursive handwriting. You smiled to yourself as you read it. He always left the most beautiful love notes and this one was no exception. It simply read "You're my happy place". You took the note off the fridge and folded it neatly and placed it in your dressing gown pocket. You were saving them all, for what you weren't sure, but you pictured a future for you and enzo, maybe one day sticking all the notes down into a scrap book and passing it onto your daughter. To show her how much she should be loved by another. You smiled at the thought and opened the fridge, finally, to find the pouring cream. After Enzo had finished filming, touring and surving the awards season the two of you finally had some time and moved in together. The first thing he had done was gone out and found the most fanciest coffee machine. You guys hadn't even bought a bed yet at that point. You finished making your drinks and went back upstairs. Enzo was sat up in bed, shirtless.
"Well damn, it's hot this morning." You laughed as you sat back in bed next to him, being careful not to spill anything. "Here my angel." You passed him the iced coffee. He carefully took it from you and took that first heavenly sip.
"Hmm, perfecto." He said closing his eyes with a satisfied smile on his face. "I do not know how I survived without having you around, only you can make my coffee right."
"I'm sure there is someone else who could, I could always teach them, it's not too hard. There aren't any crazy secret ingredients." You replied "I just make it with love, I think that's why it's so good." Enzo leaned over and kissed you. "I love you so much, mi amor." He said as he took your hand. "What would you like to do today?"
"We need to go shopping to get a couple things and I was thinking maybe we could have a go at making our own pizzas for dinner?" You suggested, admiring him.
"You always have the best ideas, I have a couple more things to add to the list so please don't let me forget my love." Enzo said as he got out of bed. It would never get old seeing how beautiful he was. It was like he had been sculpted by the world's most incredible artist whose attention to detail no one was able to match. You felt so lucky to not only be with one so handsome but to also have discovered someone with a soul that was equally as beautiful. Enzo gave all of his love and time to you. He was always there, his strength and resilience gave you strength. He was so honoured and humbled to have been given such an important role in the film and the sincerity in which he handled his part was inspiring to you. He never got angry when you would call him in the middle of the night due to the time differences or when he had come home to see that you had used his entire bottle of his most expensive cologne. You had missed him a lot while he was away filming so decided one night to spray a little of it on to the pillow next to you, then a little onto your wrist; just to make it seem like he was there with you, however next thing you knew you'd unintentionally sprayed the entire bottle around the house and it was now empty. Enzo found it to be a most romantic gesture and when he left again to complete filming took a pot of your lip balm to apply each night so it could feel like you'd just kissed him. You heard the shower turn on and got up from the bed again to decide what to wear for today. It was a simple errand day so you grabbed a pair of Adidas joggers and a black long sleeved top.
"Wow, you look so beautiful." He said staring at you.
"What? These?" You laughed. "It's a step up from pajamas."
"You look perfect, I love it so much I will also wear mine." He said as he began looking in the wardrobe.
"Maybe one day you could surprise everyone and wear Nike." You laughed. You admired him once again as he got dressed and then you both finished your coffees. Ofcourse Enzo insisted on driving and you sat in the passenger seat and played DJ. Enzo was a cautious driver, especially whilst you were in the car. He could never understand men who drove dangerously to try and impress their partners. How could he risk your life? He couldn't live with himself if anything happened to you, especially if he was the cause of it. You thought is was sweet how he was always so gentle and careful with you. He parked up outside the supermarket.
"I can get my door." You said quickly, opening it as soon as he turned off the ignition. A few times Enzo had managed to run around to open your car door whilst you rummaged around for your handbag or wallet. He was always the gentleman.
"You know I love opening it for you." He said sweetly as he linked his hand with yours. "I'll push the cart."
"I wasn't even going to try." You laughed. Enzo had to push the trolley. He just had to, it wasn't an option for you ever. It made him feel helpful and supportive. You took the list out of your pocket as you walked in with him and began looking down the aisles.
"We have to get these crisps, you'll love them." You said, standing on your tip toes.
"I got it baby." Enzo said, barely having to extend his arm to grab the pack. There were times when his height came in handy and this was certainly one of them. One time the two of you had a fight that had started off as a result of something so small and petty and then seemingly didn't stop and just kept getting worse and worse. It was the first night the two of you went to bed without apologies or saying how much you loved one another. The next day you didn't say a word to him, you'd returned from work and Enzo had moved all of your favourite snacks and drinks to the top shelves so you had no choice but to talk to him.
"And can you get those ones as well, my love. That flavour looks good too." You said pointing to the packet next to it.
"Anything for you." He said, grabbing everything you asked for. You carried on walking through the supermarket getting everything you needed to make pizza later.
"I'll get this." You said, putting your card on the card reader first.
"No, no!" Enzo insisted. "Baby, we talked about this".
"I'll pay." You said "It's fine honey". Enzo muttered in Spanish about how he should be the one paying. The two of you walked back to the car and together loaded the shopping into the back of the car and drove back.
"Are you going to let me carry any of the shopping?" You asked.
"Not a chance." Enzo laughed and leaned over to kiss you. You kissed him back and gently tugged on the back of his hair to be able to kiss down his beautifully structured jawline.
"I love you so much." You said, between kisses.
"I love you so much more." He said. He kissed the tip of your nose and rested his forehead against yours. His soft eyelashes gently brushing your skin. "I got the shopping, don't worry." You got out of the car and opened the door for him. Enzo grabbed all the bags and followed you in.
"Baby, one day all the bags are going to break and I don't know what you will do." You said as you began putting everything away. "Leave the pizza ingredients out, my love."
"Anything for you, I will cut mine in to a heart shape." He said, doing as you asked him. You smiled at him.
"I might try and do a star or something, I don't know." You said. "Maybe the shape of a coffee bean."
"You know me so well." He said smiling as the last of the shopping was put away. The sun was beginning to set and the sky was turning a beautiful pink colour. You went out onto the balcony and looked out. The view was beautiful, just like your life now. You heard the doors slide open and Enzo stepped outside. You continued to look out as you felt his strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer. He kissed your neck gingerly taking in the smell of your perfume and moisturiser. The two of you fitting together perfectly, the final missing piece of the jigsaw to your life.
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adventuringblind · 7 months
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(●’◡’●)ノ, I'm in loove with your Oscar Piastri x autistic!reader series, it gives really beautiful perspective on navigating relationships while being neurodivergent. I was wondering if you do a imagine/headcannon for Oscar and reader and how they navigate sexual intimacy in particular, like do's and donts, emotions during it stuff like that. If ur not comfortable writing that then it's ok, I just thought it would be interesting ♡
Bedroom Procedures
Oscar Jack Piastri x Reader
Genre: spicy things ahead but not smut
Request: the way I ran to write this... send me more ideas like this please they are my favorite to write!
Summary: Oscar and Reader navigate through intimacy
Warnings: again... spicy things. However there is no real depiction of anything happening!
Notes: aight, so this is again how I navigate because that's what I know. This is not a depiction of how every autistic person is when it comes to being intimate. Remember that autism is a spectrum and everyone is different.
Masterlist
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Being intimate with each other actually took a long time
At least longer than what is probably average
And that's in opinion
She wants to have sex with Oscar
It's just that it's difficultt and there are so many different feelings that is gets overwhelming quickly
It doesn't help she's trying to dive straight in whenever they try it
Oscar pays attention however
Her body language is how he can understand her feelings
So he knows exactly what he's doing even if she doesn't get it yet
The next time things get a little heated, Oscar slows them both down
"Why are you stopping? Did I do something wrong?"
"Absolutely not, just thought we would try something different."
In her head, different is strange because there is usually an order to these things, and it should become routine eventually
Oscar has other plans
He starts taking their intimate moments incredibly slow
Introducing her to different sensations and letting her tell him what she likes and doesn't
Soon, he has a comprehensive list of dos and don'ts
Like how sometimes she prefers to keep on a loose shirt because otherwise the skin on skin is to much
Not all the time
He always asks before they do anything if she would like to wear one of his shirts
Or how her biting him is usually a good sign because it means she's happy
(Something she does even when they aren't having sex)
Oral is a grey area for her
Sometimes, she'll suck him off for hours, and others, she gets overwhelmed just thinking about it
Oscar doesn't care, though, because he loves her no matter what she's feeling up to
One thing he was not expecting was for her to be relatively kinky
Experimenting is everything
Hard yes and no things but down to try before deciding
Oscar got a bit experimental after he got a general idea and their bedroom communication was good
Again... communication is a key point
He's always asking questions and reading her body just as she is with him
The fact that it's a vulnerable state and both of them are connecting in a way with emotions that even sex itself can't give is incredibly intimate
They don't even make it there sometimes because the emotional ties are just so deep that they simply spend time memorizing each other
Another thing is vocals
Oscar is usually composed and level-headed
Sex however is completely different
It's where he is able to express himself in ways he couldn't before
Also, listening to his voice is something that helps her know if she's doing okay
She also experiments with her voice
Vocal stimming during sex happens often, and it happens when she is on the edge
Her parroting is endearing ad well
Sometimes Oscar will moan or hum in a way and she will copy
A non-verbal agreement to keep going
Can go for maybe two rounds maximum
Maybe three or four but that's on a good day
Follows a routine of how things go down and there is definitely communication beforehand
Even if both parties are in the heat of the moment, he will not start anything without giving an idea of what will happen
It's like an unwritten rule so that she isn't trying to read the situation and get frustrated with herself if she can't understand what's happening
Clear cut yes and no
There is no maybe
All communication is cut and dry, and there is no beating around the bush
Because of her willingness to touch, but only from those she's allowed, Oscar is a teeny tiny bit possessive
If anyone touches her who she's not comfortable with he won't hesitate to bite her in reciprocation
She bites him, he bites her, it's a pattern they keep going because he knows its her love language
Also, it creates some fun on other places
Really the two are very good at setting boundaries and communicating
It makes things fun for both of them and there is never any feelings hurt
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mebis-art-dump · 4 months
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So, i saw some comments in mossbag's video speculating about the kingdom's edge roots being part of White Lady, and I wanted to address that
Going directly to the point, I dont think they are related, the shape is different, the ones at KE are pretty thin and stiff, kind of like a zigzag pattern, unlike WL's roots which are very curvy, flowing like a S
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Besides, why would they grow so far from her, but not in a closer distance or even around her? unless you think these are some of her "seeds" that got left here somehow or for some reason
However, there's another group of roots that I think have a larger chance at being her offshoot, ones that are present throughout the Ancient Basin and the palace grounds
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the ones around the basin are dry and dead and probably have been for a long time, but once inside the white palace's dream realm, one can see they used to be white (like all flora in there)
I'd say they dried away when White Lady uprooted herself and fled to her gardens at the other side of the kingdom (I could even speculate she shed a previous larger form like that seen godhome, but there's little to no evidence of that, and her nursery silhouette points towards her being relatively tiny at the time, although I can imagine her still being connected to these larger roots, but this is going into headcanon territory)
That said, similarly curved roots are present in greenpath, which are definetively not related to her, which could mean these ancient basin roots are simply common roots; but in my defense greenpath ones arent white while the White Palace ones clearly were
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Going back to the Kingdom's Edge roots and grass, they aren't the only plants to be white in game, even outside the White Palace
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the in-universe author of fangamer's Wanderer's journal, as you can see here, doesn't even make special notice of the pale fern present in King's Pass and Forgotten Crossroads, treating it merely as the grass that grows in concrete cracks, which it is tbh
the color and mild luminescence probably comes from absorbing envirommental soul, specially since it turns entirely orange during infected crossroads, likely from absorbing the miasma in the air instead (why you don't absorb soul when cutting it? same reason you can't absorb it directly from the air or from the thorned vines: not enough concentration/quantity of the stuff to be absorbed before it dissipates into the ambient)
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There's even Deepnest fungus, openly noted to be bioluminescent in the same journal, but not noted to be unusual or rare or unnatural
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So yeah, relatively normal plants whose growth got affected by the ashes and/or light/soul of the Pale Wyrm make more sense than the alternative to me
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Note
I love planing out my ideas in great detail but when it comes to actually writing the story it’s like pulling teeth. It goes from being fun and interesting to being nothing more than a dull chore. I’ve tried planning less to see if having some things unknown might help, but that didn’t work. I could spend forever writing and rewriting my ideas and making changes to them. But when I try to write an actual story it’s like I physically can’t. What should I do?
Details Planned But Unable to Write
If you have the details of your story planned out but still aren't able to write it, it's probable that one of the following things is happening. See if any of these strike a chord with you...
1 - Details and Plot Are Not the Same - Sometimes writers say they have all the details in their story planned out, but what they actually mean is they've fleshed out character and setting details, maybe even backstory and some general scene ideas, but they couldn't tell you what the story's conflict is, what the inciting incident is, what goal the protagonist is pursuing and why, what's at stake, or what the major plot points of the story are. No matter how detailed your story is in terms of characters, setting, backstory, and even general ideas about scenes, if you don't have a conflict to tie them all together, you don't really have a story. You just have details. A plot can't be moved forward if it doesn't exist, and if you don't have a conflict, goals and motivation, stakes, an antagonistic force and obstacles, etc., you don't have a plot. Solution: take some time learning about Goals and Conflict, Plot Driven vs Character Driven Stories, Basic Story Structure, and How to Move a Story Forward.
2 - You Lost Interest in the Story - If you have your story properly plotted in addition to having the details fleshed out, and you're still unable to write, it could be that you've simply lost interest in the story. This can happen when we spend a lot of time on a story, especially if we spend a lot of time fleshing things out. Solution: Guide: How to Rekindle Your Motivation to Write, Getting Unstuck: Motivation Beyond Mood Boards & Playlists, Getting Excited About Your Story Again
3 - Something in the Story Isn't Working - Imagine someone riding a horse and they come to a rickety old bridge, but the horse balks and refuses to cross. The horse may just be stubborn, but it's quite possible it's picking up sensory information its rider can't... creaks and groans the rider can't hear, a worrisome tilt or sway the rider can't perceive... If you sit down to write your well planned out story and can't, the same thing could be happening with your gut instinct. Like the horse that doesn't want to cross the bridge because it senses danger, something inside you is saying "this story doesn't work" and isn't excited to get involved. Solution: Read through your outline or plan and see if you can spot the problem. Maybe the character's goal doesn't make sense with the events of the story. Maybe the antagonistic force isn't doing enough to oppose the protagonist. Maybe the character arc is out-of-sync with the events of the story. If nothing else, talk it through with a trusted writer friend to see if they have any thoughts. Sometimes just hearing the questions they have about the story can be enough to highlight what isn't working.
4 - Life Stuff Is Getting in the Way - Even if your story is well fleshed out and thoroughly plotted, and everything works and you're excited about writing, there can be other things going on in your life that stand in your way. If you're putting too much pressure on yourself to write or reach certain writing goals, it makes writing feel stressful and our brains are wired to avoid stressful things. It could be that you're not feeling well physically or mentally. You could be distracted by other things you want to write or do. You could just be too busy with other things to really get into it. Or you could just be not in the mood to write. Solution: Try to pinpoint what's getting in the way and see if there's a work around. For example, if you think writing has become stressful and that's why you're avoiding it, figure out what you can do to make it fun again. Or, if you think you're just not in the mood to write, figure out some things you could do that would put you in the mood to write.
5 - Fear Is Getting in the Way - Details are easy, writing is hard. No matter how much planning and plotting you've done, actually putting those details into coherent words in a way that is compelling and well-paced--that's not so easy. And, the tough reality is that until you've had a lot of writing experience, your writing probably isn't as good as you want it to be. You want it to be good, and you know what would qualify as good, but you're just not able to produce that quality yet. And the only way to get your writing quality to that level is to let yourself write things that aren't as good as you want them to be. You have to write a lot of "just okay" stuff before you can write "really great" stuff. AND THAT'S SCARY!!! And--that's not even the only thing that can cause fear for writers. Maybe you have written a lot and your writing is where you want it to be, but maybe your fear is with the next step... sharing it with others. Maybe you're afraid others won't enjoy it as much as you want them to. Solution: figure out what's causing the fear, whether it's quality-related or next step related, then try to push through it. Remind yourself that writing not great stuff is part of the process. Remind yourself that sharing with others is part of the process (usually, unless you're writing for yourself.) Have a spin through the bottom half of my Motivation master list for other fears and solutions.
I hope that helps!
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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!
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acid-ixx · 9 months
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random yandere nsfw headcanons/kinks pt. 4
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sub! bottom! mammon
a/n: ignore the fact that im supposed to post a xiao fic. i wrote this for an irl. this can be interpreted as yandere or not since it's obscured but implied masochism! no beta read. gn reader.
comments, reblogs, and asks are appreciated! it inspires me to write more ^^
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pact play - he doesn't even want to admit this in front of ANYONE, but he relishes in the feel of you taking advantage of your pact. if he's being bratty whenever you talk to someone else then you can simply force him to kneel and keep his head low. he talks too much? make him shut up. he wouldn't admit the sparks of electricity that shoot up his spine whenever you run your hands across his naked body when you force his body to stay still— but you'll surely know with how hard he is, and with the precum that leaks down his dick. maybe he likes being ordered around. maybe, just maybe, he doesn't want to think about how well he follows your orders even if he's no say against it. on the contrary, you can do whatever you want on his body. make him strip, play with his pecs, push his hips against the bed; order him to stay still.
degradation - degrade him, just a bit. tell him he's a needy whore for actively seeking you out. he's used to rebutting whatever insults his brothers spat about him but god, his reaction to you is way different than one could imagine. tell him how pathetic he looks all flustered and moaning for you, as you stroke his dick, at a slower pace than usual. a combination of your insults and the stimulation on his body sure does wanders because he cums quicker than usual. "you're such a bitch, huh? can't even last a round?" he gets even more overstimulated, unable to muster a word, with only gargled moans that come out of his mouth. if you keep degrading him as you do more rounds, he might be fucked way too stupid to even know it's already morning.
name calling - this plays well with degradation. call him a bitch, a toy, a needy slut, anything that's a mix between your degrading praises. isn't he such a good boy? a good dog? so fucking dirty for even kneeling on the cold, hard floor, humping your legs and shaking from just how good he feels. "you'll make such a good, behaved pet, yes?-" he'll nod quicker than you could utter the next sentence, unable to speak a coherent response, "-if only you aren't such a bitch." mammon will whine just hearing you releasing a breathy laugh.
blindfold - for him, there are times when he wishes he doesn't think. well, he already doesn't most of the time- but in a more literal sense, you could deprive him of one of his senses. his mind is buzzing with excitement from the anticipation, but he can't predict anything at all, which makes things all the more better. less thoughts, more stimulation, really. will you whip out your box of toys that you so gracefully gifted him after he complained that you don't spoil your pretty boyfriend much? will you use the lush, pink vibrator mercilessly on his dick? will you play with some sort of electro-stimulating toy on his pecs? will your hands toy with his body but never on his dick, just to tease him? will you open up a bottle of lube and-? ahhh, anything is up to you to decide, and not his to worry about.
orgasm denial - stimulate him so much to the point he's on the verse to cum then stop with your ministrations. see just how hard he falls, he cries and especially begs. he can't muster up the question, "why??? why did you stop???" and instead looks at you like you committed a sin yourself. after all the touches, all the hickies, bruises, and marks you've left on his body— you still won't let him cum??? then even before he could whine out about you being so merciless, so so so so cruel, you'll ravage his body with another round of strokes, and just right before he cums again you'll stop and repeat the cycle. it's so fucking unfair, he believes, but he can't even fight back and that's the worst part!!! it feels too good and you're denying him of his release but he can't complain because either way you're making him feel way too good and he's greedy too eat your affection up so who is he to complain?
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jewish-sideblog · 4 months
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"Both indigenous and colonizers" CAN PEOPLE STOP TALKING ABOUT SHIT THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND PLEASE
This wave of antisemitism and bullshit about "indigenous vs colonizer" makes me so scared as an indigenous person in the US of what will happen when Land Back movements do result in actual sovereignty restoration and then tribes do what people do and disagree over land and resources, like we were doing for thousands of years before Europeans arrived. Will we be reduced down to colonizers too??
It feels like Westerners, especially USAmericans, have such a black and white idea of what it means to be indigenous and what it means to be a colonizer/settler (because those terms are always conflated) and it makes me so angry and frustrated to see people apply those standards and lines thinking not just to complex sovereignty movements in their own countries but also to incredibly complex conflicts and wars happening on the other side of the world.
The damage I've seen done to sovereignty movements here in the US alone, people going around claiming that we want all "settlers" to go back to Europe or that we're going to start massacring people, has been horrible and the fact that it's all just to justify antisemitism makes me sick.
Genuinely. They're blocked now, but that same person said something to the effect of "Would an Iranian praying in a Mosque built on the ashes of a former synagogue be decolonization?"
And that was the point at which I was like. Ok. It seems like most people genuinely don't actually know what the terms "colonization", "colonizer" and "coloniality" mean. Obviously, that wouldn't be decolonization, because the Jews never colonized Iran. Emigration and colonization aren't the same fucking thing!
I used to have so much faith in my generation. I thought we were critical thinkers, capable of flexibility and engagement with new ideas. But I'm realizing now that we're basically just rebranded boomers. Back in the day, anybody you disagreed with was labelled as a "Communist". It didn't actually fucking matter if they were communist sympathizers, Soviet sympathizers, or even if they were remotely allied with socialist ideals. You could just call them a "Communist" and be done with it, without even understanding what that term means.
It's the same shit today. Instead of a HUAC witch hunt targeting communists, it's a social witch hunt targeting "colonizers" and "Zionists". I am terrified that the moment indigenous rights movements in the Americas and Oceania start making practical strides in Land Back, regaining rightful control over the ways your own land is used, you'll all be labelled as "colonizers" or "imperialists" or whatever the bad buzz word of the month turns out to be.
People simply can't wrap their heads around the idea that indigenous decolonization doesn't have the end goal of ethnically cleansing non-native people from the Americas. And it's because they're so absorbed in colonial thinking. They can't even fucking imagine what sovereignty could look like beyond an authoritarian structure based on control and violence. It's the same with Israel and Palestine-- they think that Jewish sovereignty must look like complete Jewish control to the detriment of Arabs, and they think Palestinian sovereignty must look like total Arab control to the detriment of Jews. The idea that a shared state or a two-state solution is "racist" stems from that false dichotomy.
Establishing an ideological binary of violence that pits "indigenous" against "colonizer", "native" against "settler", and "us" against "them" with no room for cooperation or collaboration is the core of colonialism. Because the core of colonialism is the idea that only one group can have true power at a time. And that's just not the way the world has to work.
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