#bunch of fucking parrots

[psalmsofpsychosis]

me in this corner on my knees like fellas, i'm literally begging you, please interpret things, dont just fucking swallow stories and essays and media and all kinds of fucking information without giving it two tiny winy thoughts

#ngl i'm lowkey feeling homicidal about being surrounded by people who just percieve life and go ''okay.'' #not a single fucking thought in the 1000km radius of them #and i'm not talking about forming opinions #god knows you bastards are obsessively addicted to forming opinions without half as much the information you need #in order to form actual coherent and worthwhile opinions #i'm talking about trying to understand things. going beyond the surface level aesthetics and the ohhs and the ahhs #fucking christ. every other disco hoarse i see in here is so performative and surface level and superficial it's insane #people be sounding like three baby parrots re-enacting Shakespeare's Hamlet #except that baby parrots are cute and y'all dont even have the virtue of being fun. you're just a bunch of terrible actors #performing what thoughtfulness and introspection and self-awareness looks like. not what it actually means to possess those qualities #it's all the fucking aesthetics. the hows and whats and whens; never the whys. #for the love of gods; try to understand things for once. why they happen; what drives them; how they unfold from the roots up #INTERPRET THINGS. MAKE INFORMATION AND KNOWLEDGE YOUR OWN. #consumer culture is a fucking disease and y'all think it only comes in the flavour of you want to buy cute mugs

[charlottedabookworm]

the child is crying and I don’t even feel guilty about it

#yes yes she’s a product of her environment she’s parroting what her parents have taught her #the world of ffxvi is fucking shit for bearers #but still #not feeling guilty about it #char plays ffxvi #ffxvi spoilers #final fantasy xvi spoilers #better the kid learns now then after another bunch of bearers she calls chloe and uses as playthings

[magnoliamyrrh]

i also love how this whole generation discusses enthusiastic consent and consent which isnt coerced at all and etc etc etc but they cant understand how consent cant be bought, especially when were talking abt +95% of cases of harsh poverty related prostitution. like. what the fuck is not clicking (why am i even asking whats not clicking; its that theyre literally so fucking afraid to think for themselves and to even question the dominant narratives theive been parroting that their entire brains just shut down ((because even questioning these things already makes you the worst person ever in the groups they hang out in)) just repete the mantra babes! sex work is work! just repete the mantra, mindlessly! you say something enough times and it becomes true!)

#its scary man like. apart from everything...... i find it straight up fucking scary #...... were adults now. these people are adults. and yet they still.... like im sorry to say it but so much of this generation #is just sheep #i love actual sheep but this isnt cute its really not #its fucking scary #this generation is SO EASY to manipulate and will fall SO EASILY for cult tactics i swear to god #a whole bunch of people who parrot everything and who are terrified to be even analytical of things much less critical. is exactly what we #dont need #which as i said before is part of why i post about this. because look! im saying all the things that arent allowed and make me an evil #bitch! lmao. except wait my fingers didnt turn to ash my tongue didnt fall out and i didnt suddenly become the devil #anon hate? okay. so? a bunch of westerners irl who dont know shit who are mad at me? okay? so? #the thought crime police can sentence me to 1000 years in jail if they want but it doesnt seem to have worked so far

[ramdotexe]

something absolutely batshit just happened

#i live with my mum and she used to own a bunch of birds but we had to send them away because we could no longer take care of them properly #(something happened to cause this not because of negligence) #and we were down to our last parrot #and some guy offers a bunch of money to take him off our hands #and when he comes he says he’s going to be trained and get this #star in Downton fucking Abbey #Downton Abbey. the show #he had a Facebook and everything #wild. #just rambling

[cinnamon-phrog]

I held a baby bunny today my health bar is in the millions now.

Faith in humanity is RESTORED

#i know i said i was on hiatus BUT i have to tell you. it was epic. #i was at my carer's grandaughter's birthday party and they bought a BUNCH of animals #like fucking tons #at one point a snake was on my neck lmao #it tried to get into my shirt sleeve #AND!!! i had a parrot on my head. i never liked photos of myself but that is an exception. #there was LOADS of others too omfg

[tarjapearce]

Omg, your asks are back open, I just want you to know that I can’t stop thinking about your punk miguel post god damn. If you could write some more of that that would be very cool 🥺👉👈 Only if you want to though!!! I love you

art by @bumbleboots_art on Ig

Warnings: Angst, mild physical assault, fluff, suggestive towards the end.

Miguel

Punk Miggy

Pt. 1

Ever since Miggy appeared through a portal into your lives, things had been chaotic.

You needed to believe things were chaotic good, but with two Miguels you truly didn't know what to expect. Your grumpy faced Miguel often barked orders with a strategy in mind, while Miggy just gave in the heat of the battle and things somehow ended up working.

But at the end of the day everything resumed into a bunch of

"Te dije que hicieras caso!" (Told you to obey)

"I obey orders from none. You specially"

God, as handsome as they were, they were annoying. The constant clashing had also played a huge part in your almost-lover/boss situationship with you. Everytime they bickered like loud vexing parrots, you left them be.

At the begining it was fun to watch them rant and banter, but as things evolved into something more tense and borderline dangerous, your own share of mental force was drained.

You barely hung out with them anymore, adding to the already snapping short temper of your Miguel.

Miggy looked suspicious, and truly wondered if things had been too much for you to not be around.

His eyes however widened in knowing pain as a flurry of memories paraded on his mental runway. He watched Miguel, or at least another variant of him, having and enjoying a little girl he knew so well. Little Gabriella.

"Stay away" He growled, but how could he?

How he could do such thing when another variant of his little girl was there, happy on his shoulders, freshly out of a soccer game.

His own Gabriella loved hearing him play the guitar, just as much as he loved serenading her. His Gabriella loved to make patches for him to add at his jacket. The two had matching patched up vests. In every universe his little girl was beautiful and loved. Like it should be.

"I fucking told you to stay away!" Miguel growled as his punk counterpart held his hands in defense while dodging a hurling chair thrown his way

"I lost her too, Y'know?" Miggy laid on his chair as Miguel grabbed him by the collar of his vest. Fangs bared, tight grip and nose flaring.

"I miss her too."

With a grunt, Miguel let him go.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, jefazo. You might fool everyone under your command. Even our princesita. But you don't fool me. I am you, remember? Estás bien pendejo si crees que puedes engañarme." (You're stupid if you think you can fool me.)

"She's a constant reminder of what I do." Miguel pointed at the screens, "And why people should fucking follow orders."

Miggy rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Could you shop talking about work second for a moment? Let's focus on-"

"She's gone. Nothing to focus on, besides the multiverse."

"I know what it feels like. To suddenly lose-"

"Tu?! Tu no tienes ni una puta idea de lo que se siente!" (You had no fucking idea to what it feels like!)

Miguel roared, as Miggy frowned with a scowl only to his chest to bump against his, retaliating.

"¿Crees que no, cabrón? I lost her due an asshole policeman doing a misdirected gunshot just cause he mistook me for a criminal. He shot in the air, and it got her. It was aimed at me!" (You think I don't, dipshit?)

He palmed his chest before ripping the velcro patch Gabriella had made for him and tossed it on his hands.

My favorite Rockstar

"You fucking think I don't know how powerless you'd feel while watching your little girl dying right before your very eyes?! "

"Al menos tuviste algo que sepultar." (At least you had something to burry)

Miguel mumbled and his punk counterpart stilled.

"She vanished in my hands." Red and blue clad shoulders slumped heavily. A burden he still carried to this day.

Silence stretched for a bit too long, before Miguel sighed and turned his back on him.

"You stepped in when none wanted to."

Miggy rubbed his neck as he offered his best comfort words.

"That's what a real father does."

Miguel cleared his throat and turned to face him "We wished we could save everyone."

"But we can't." added Miggy with a solemn face.

"Now you understand why I do what I do?"

"I've always understood that, though guy. Still, is fun to give you shit for it"

Miguel dismissed him with a roll of his eyes, but a newfound level of mutual respect settled between the both.

"Specially when our princesita was caught in the middle of our antics."

"Again, there is no ours in here. Give her space."

"I think we've given her enough of it."

"No."

"Yes"

Miguel grunted, annoyed as he followed him.

-----

"No, no, that's not how you do it."

"It's my turn, I kiss her however the fuck I want to."

Bossman Miguel spoke as he cupped your reddening cheeks, making your flushed lips, that glistened over a new make out session invited him to deliver another desperate and breathless kiss.

Meaty lips guided yours in a pace you've grown to know well, just as Miggy nuzzled your neck playfully. The tip of his nose roaming up and down, for him to give a gentle nip at your earlobe.

You groaned into Miguel's mouth, and whimpered as you begged for air.

How had you ended up in this predicament after such a parkour of emotions displayed between them? Lyla had shown you their conversation, glad at least they learned how to share something that found them a common ground.

And then Miggy had waltzed in your work bay, smothering your lips with a breathtaking kiss as an apology for the troubles caused and it only triggered Miguel, that showed him what a real kiss was.

And now it all resumed into this moment. The three sitting on your couch, that sometimes acted as your bed, taking turns to make out with you.

Miggy's turn arrived as he turned your face, placed a gentle hand on your cheek and kissed you. It was soft and chaste at first, but then his tongue pried your mouth open. Soft and moist muscles fighting for a chance to top you, and he did.

Earning a lovely and delicious mewl from you. Rough and calloused hands roamed up your sides and waist

"Let her go, that's enough"

Miguel grumbled as he had to pry away your needy lips from his counterpart.

"Who did it best, cariño?"

Your head felt like it had detached from your body and floated like a balloon as your Miguel nipped at your neck softly and Miggy mumbled the sweetest things to your ear. You certainly couldn't decide, even if your life depended on it.

"A tie."

Both scowled.

"Guess we'll have to find out differently, then."

Miguel's steely stare fixed on you with a suspicious glint in his eyes, as Miggy licked your earlobe.

Where were the anomalies when you needed them the most?

You gulped at your ongoing demise.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #Miguel x Reader x Punk Miguel #t writes✨ #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara angst

[talesfromtheenchantedforest]

Arthurian characters based on how likely I think it is that they can read

Can definitely read

The Lady of the Lake: taught Lancelot to read, also exchanged letters with Guenevere

Guenevere: see above, also exchanged letters with Isolde

Lancelot: taught to read by the lady of the lake, learned his own name by reading it off his gravestone, read the inscription on Galehaut's coffin which sent him into a dissociative murder rampage. Possibly the best-documented reader in the Arthurian canon

Isolde: exchanged letters with Guenevere

Tristram: exchanged letters with Lancelot

Definitely cannot read

Gawain, Yvain, Galegantin, Galecsconde, Tors, Carados, Yvain (the bastard), Gosenain, the Gay Gallant, Aglin: had to find a monk to read the creepy gravestones at the Dolorous Guard to them

I would be astonished if they couldn't read

Morgan Le Fey: surely that nunnery taught reading and writing in addition to necromancy right

Your average monk/hermit: gotta be able to read the Bible to do services for random passing knights

Galahad: an autistic Bible nerd raised by nuns. No fucking way that boy can't read

Most damsels: there seems to be a robust letter-writing tradition among ladies, especially queens, and damsels are often message-carriers. Perhaps not all of them can read, but I would guess the average one can

Strongly doubt that they can read

Arthur: I do not believe that Arthur can read. He did not clock the "He Who Pulleth Out This Sword" note, which I suppose there is an argument that he is dumb and just missed it, but can't read is simpler. And he does not strike me as the type to develop late-in-life literary ambitions, when you could just kidnap a bunch of scholars instead

Perceval: the idea of Perceval reading is wild to me, like a parrot who has somehow managed a note-perfect rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody. Not completely outside the constraints of physical possibility, but the effort involved would be so astronomical and what anyone would be getting out of it would be negligible. Just let him fly free in the woods.

Most knights. If those ten knights above are any indication, reading is not a prized or necessary knight skill. I would not be shocked to learn that a certain individual can read, but my baseline assumption would be no

#this post brought to you by my power is out and I am regretting getting out of bed #arthuriana #illiterate knights and the damsels and monks who read to them

[420technoblazeit]

although i dont believe that there werent also some transandrophobics under the outcry against finnster, there was good reasons why he was being critizised. have you seen all the times he used the t slur? he used to be pro trump if im not wrong. also his "efforts" are only attempts of burying his past and he doesnt really deserve a redemption arc since he still plays with that sissyfication kink thing, which simply fetishizes trans women. finnster has been outwardly hateful towards a group and then profits off of it. no im sorry he gotta go! im not even a trans woman but i would be pissed off too if someone bullied me and then started copying the things i get bullied for

ok well i AM trans and genderfluid and you dont fucking speak for me. we gotta get rid of this idea that just because someone was bigoted in the past they can't change as a person and move away from those beliefs because otherwise nobody's gonna actually want to change. this is such a pessimistic way to view people and call me naive but i want to believe that people can change and not be stuck in their ways

i know i sure as hell said some shit when i was first figuring out my identity because i was in a heavily transphobic environment. that kind of stuff happens, not everyone grows up in a place that's super supportive and a lot of the time you internalize it or end up parroting nasty shit. the difference is i wasn't going through that kind of thing as a highly public streamer where people could record and repost every single thing i said and spread it around for years

also i want you to ask yourself if this sissyfication kink thing is actually problematic or if he's just comfortable with his sexuality and posting thirst traps like a whole bunch of other content creators do. would this actually be a problem if he wasn't trans. be honest

#finnster #f1nn5ter #f1nnster #the pig squeals

[morallyinept]

Thrash Metal - A Dieter Bravo One Shot

Summary: When you arrive home, Dieter has a surprise for you.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 5.4k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.” 

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.  

Explicit - Oral F receiving/fingering/anal play/squirting/lots of spit & saliva/masturbation/mild dirty talk.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.  

Author’s Note: Dieter, what dat tongue do? 👅 Alright, he's heeeeere. Tongue pierced Dieter. Woot.

Tagging @for-a-longlongtime @sp00kymulderr @ravensmadreads @whatsnewalycat @agentjackdaniels @chronically-ghosted because of stud-gate this week 😜

Has Frankie found a contender for title of 🐱👑??

MASTERLIST | DIETER BRAVO MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

“D, has something happened to your teeth?”

You narrow your gaze at him as you regard him standing before you, and there’s something... off.

He shakes his head. But keeps his mouth closed.

“Oh shit, you’ve not lost a tooth have you? Let me see.”

He shakes his head again; that fluff on his crown swaying, and steps back from your reach deliberately.

“Uhm-uhm.” His lips are rolled tight against each other.

“Dieter, what's up with you? What’s wrong with your mouth?” You say, trying not to smirk at his odd behaviour. But then again, that’s a fucking understatement where Dieter Bravo is concerned.

You’ve been back all of five minutes, jet-lagged to hell and needing a shower, and already there’s some quirky drama unfolding before your eyes.

Attempting - and failing at - nonchalance, he had greeted you with a seemingly forced smile as you stepped in the bedroom with consternation brewing around your temples, but his rapid eye blinking betrayed the subtle nervous energy lingering beneath the surface. It stopped you in your tracks as you lugged your case in.

You knew immeadiately something was up.

And as you try to engage in conversation now, his attempts at passive behaviour are punctuated by occasional fidgets, a breakdance of twitches that hint at a hidden unease, an untold secret.

The same look a dog gives you when they’ve shit all over the floor.

“Are you high?” You question speculatively. Ask a stupid question and ye shall receive a stupid answer, right?

The bedroom echoes with a delicate, yet rabid symphony of Dieter's astute nervous ticks - a restless tap of the foot, a darting glance toward the window and back through red, tired eyes; a momentary pause as he tries to control the involuntary movements. Fingers cracking silver metal bands against one another.

Despite his efforts to appear at ease, there's an undeniable undercurrent of tension, like a tightly wound spring threatening to unravel. A constant hungover spiral in his eyes.

Then Dieter shrugs with a lazy eyebrow cock and sheepish smile. Busted. He’s probably been high all fucking weekend.

You giggle. “What have you been up to?”

You cast your eye about the bedroom, nothing too telling or untoward to witness. The bed is unmade, nothing new there, and there’s no evidence of any bodily fluids in lumpy puddles that you can obviously spy.

When you ask the question, the room becomes a stage where he struggles to perform the role of casual indifference anymore; a two and fro between concealing and revealing the subtle nuances of his nervous twitches.

Do you even want to know?

But then, he beckons you over, with his two fingers and a smile that keeps his lips sealed shut like gummy glue.

He’s not said a word to you. Not even greeted you when you came in, despite you calling out to him repeatedly like a parrot. Just standing silently in the bedroom waiting for you.

An oversized sweatshirt, with the sleeves bunched around the elbows, hangs off of him. Baggy Harem pants sit lazily on his paunchy waist, with a pattern that makes you dizzier the more you look at it.

Hard to believe sometimes, that this man is an Emmy nominated actor, and not some vagabond that’s crawled in off the street looking to warm up.

He looks wildly uncouth, like he’s just rolled out of bed, and probably has, you deduce. You've learned that Dieter, although a fully grown man, doesn't do much when you're not around.

Almost like he's lost his inner compass and twirls in stuck circles of bad decisions, waiting for you to come back and set his navigational dial right again. You're his magnetic pole.

His hands are knotted behind his back and channelling an innocent little boy, rocking back and forth on his heels, who’s just done something suspiciously naughty. Like throw up in your Louboutins again.

Dieter doesn't answer your questions. He just offers nods or shakes of his head, with puzzling mmm’s or uhm’s being tossed at you, as you regale him with ranty anecdotes about your flight back from hell.

But you soon catch on that all is not well in the Bravo mansion as he remains suspiciously tight lipped.

“You’re being weird, why are you being weird?” You narrow, as you reach him.

You don’t want to panic or suspect the worst, but he’a giving you little recourse as it prickles at your scalp.

Past experience tells you that each time you leave, you come back to some sort of carnage. The man can't help it; anarchy sticks to him like Peter Pan's shadow. And Dieter has never been truly ready to grow up and vacate Neverland.

You feel his arms wrap around your lower back, his chest presses taught against yours as he pulls you in. Stacked shoulders mountain over you as one of your hands peak the summit, squeezing gently. You reach under the hem of his bobbling sweater with your other and rub his soft tummy affectionately.

“What did you do this time?” You probe looking into his chocolate browns. They’re a little tired and bloodshot. Puffy, with aging skin dried out a little up this close.

Dieter waggles his eyebrows and then leans in for a welcome kiss.

You avoid it, swerving, as he grazes your cheek; his breathy chortle ebbs out from behind his teeth clamped shut.

“I’m on to you, Mister. Something’s incredibly awry here.”

Smirking, he growls at your playful resistence, grabbing your chin and planting one on you, and your resolve instantly melts down your legs.

You moan gently as he places his lips on yours, delicately at first. As you inhale, he smells like Rasinettes, peculiarly. Dieter plants soft, little pecks that morph into hungry nips, and they soon have you wrestling for the deep trench of his mouth.

God, you've missed this quirky doof.

You slip your tongue in; your hands in the nape of his neck. Fingers curling around the unruly fluff there, matted with styling product that’s probably days old.

He whines into your mouth, clutching onto you tightly with a strength that lights fireworks inside your chest.

His warm tongue slithers against yours, and you gasp when you feel something cool and hard run across it suddenly.

You baulk, breaking the kiss.

"Is that... what I think it is?” You question, bewildered and instantly smirking.

You watch as the pale, pink flush of his lips shifts into the apples of his cheeks, lighting them up a neon magenta. Glowing, like a sleazy, back alley strip joint.

He didn’t… no way.

“Show me,” you cajole, your fingers trying to pull on his bottom lip eagerly.

Dieter slowly protrudes his tongue out at you; it's so long it reaches the end of his chin with ease. Towards the bottom of his tongue, nestled in the pink, wet velvet, lies a silver metal ball.

You start laughing. You can’t help it. It kind of just rolls up the back of your throat and out into his sheepish face.

Then he laughs, his hands rubbing up and down your back. His nails cragg down against the fibres of your top, your spine, and entice your nipples to wake up and pebble in response.

You can see your reflection in it; a cleverly crafted, hidden secret which you can’t stop staring at, despite your animated heckling.

He sucks his tongue back in and you shake your head incredulously.

“Are you having a midlife crisis?” You ask, trying to compose yourself.

He shrugs as though it’s no big deal. “I was high.”

You notice his speech is a little slurred. The foreign invasion in his mouth is somewhat difficult to navigate around basic colloquialism it seems.

Dieter with a lisp is inherently cute, you decide. You can feel your skin coming alive with goose bumps as a wave of delightful shivers dances along the hairs on your arms.

Eager neurons fire, creating a wave of exhilaration. It's a visceral experience, a fusion of giddy butterflies and a magnetic pull towards the rogue source of your body amping up - that darned piercing.

Every heartbeat seems synchronised with the rhythm of your sudden enthusiasm for it, orchestrating a melody of hedonistic anticipation that resonates within your sweat glands as you feel it trickle across the back of your neck and under your arms.

Your clit is standing at full attention.

Your mind is polluted with lewd imagery on a static screen, and you want to pause them all and zoom in so you can get off to them. The bedroom suddenly feels stifling.

“Let me see that again.” You sway.

Smirking at you, Dieter’s tongue rolls out of his mouth once more and you examine it closely.

The slight dip and rise of the barbell certainly hints at some drugged up rebellion. You can only imagine the state he must have been in to embark on such a perilous, and stupid, endeavour. His agent will be pissed.

But you’re not surprised in the slightest that he’d try something wild like this. It’s almost as bold as the kiss print tattoo on his ass cheek. Fucking idiot.

“It’s coming out, it fucking kills, babe. I swear, I’ve chipped a tooth already.” The rhythmic clinks of the stud against his gnashers creates a distinct soundtrack to his words.

“Can you see?” He opens wide and points to his back molars. “Ack ere,” he mouths.

“No, no chip.” You confirm. Nothing but pink gums and filled molars.

“You sure?” He sucks in around his cheeks ungraciously, like he’s got wadding in his mouth from a horrific visit to the dentist, and is trying not to drool from numbed out lips.

“D. Why did you do this?” You ask, pecking at his scruff and nuzzling into him.

He shrugs. “I woke up with it three days ago... Went out. I don't remember. Can’t eat solids. I bit down on it and almost shit myself. Hurts too much.”

You can't help but titter again. “Then why didn’t you just take it out?”

And despite his inert melancholy, and some possible resentment about it, he shifts. His stance and his facial expression mould into something all too wildly familiar.

And you feel it too as he tunes into that x-rated channel hopping in your mutual, debauched hive mind to pick something he knows you'll both enjoy.

“Because,” he says with that shit eating grin getting wider “I heard it can be fun.”

As he speaks, the metallic gleam of the tongue stud catches the light, accentuating his confident, brash words with a hint of flippant audacity.

Yeah, baby. You know you want me.

Each subtle movement from the sly smile to the now thoughtful pause, draws attention to the unconventional accessory that whispers a sordid tale of some narcotic imposed masochism. Chaotic alignment in all its glory, punctured right through that fleshy muscle that clicks in his mouth at you.

Calling you out, persuading you to join the darkside, because your partner now has a tongue stud. Fuck.

“Fun you say?” You query with another smirk brewing.

“Yeah,” he tightens his grip around you and pulls you closer, fingers slipping down onto your ass. You can already feel what kind of fun hardening between his legs.

“For you, I mean.” Dieter clarifies.

You swallow and grin, and the room sways as you register the whiplash from such an impulse. Anticipation wraps around your veins like a tightly coiled spring, ready to release a burst of energy at the slightest trigger.

Your senses heighten, capturing every nuance in the air that crackles like electric. Time seems to stretch, elongating moments as you eagerly conjure and play out every scenario that can, and will more than likely go down.

And you can see he’s pulling it apart too. Mentally jacking off to the sights it envokes.

Your imaginations play like a vivid movie collection, building suspense with each scene of that infernal tongue, sheathed with a metal counterpart added into your foreplay.

It's a crescendo of excitement, a cacaphony of heightened awareness and the sweet agony of expectation that makes your cunt clench wildly.

“Are you telling me you mutilated yourself so you could eat me out with a tongue stud?” You put to him.

“Don’t act like you’re not intrigued, babe.” He sucks back the fluid pooling in his mouth again with a wispy slurp.

“Oh, you can colour me fucking intrigued, D.”

“I thought so.” He croons with that razor grin coming for you like a chainsaw.

He slips his tongue back into your mouth and your own vies for the stud, sliding over it smoothly, and waking something carnal with lacquer claws inside you.

Tongues flicking and sliding over one another, you can taste the herbal, ashy remnants of a probable joint on his. You suck on his tongue feverishly; each of you braying with one another to choke the other on those twisty muscles.

“Ah Jesus.” He whimpers.

“Did I hurt you?” You ask, pulling back.

You cup his cheek, fingers reaching to fiddle with his earring glinting in his lobe, affectionately.

He’s always had a flair for flouting the conventional. A man of his advancing age with tattoos and piercings has a great appeal. You often admire his body art with curious fingertips, or a swirling tongue that traces the patterns, making his skin shiver.

“No, that actually feels better. Do it again.” Dieter prompts.

You run your tongue gently around the circumference of the stud in his mouth as you kiss him once again.

“Mmm,” he sighs into your cheeks. “Yeah, like that.” His grip on you becomes tighter, desperate.

You suck gently on his bottom lip and he crushes your head in his giant hands, guiding you backwards, clumsily, to the uncouthly made bed.

His tongue licks deep to get more of that sensual relief from the aching pang, as your breathing muffles around his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re making me so hard,” he whines. You reach down and give him a gentle squeeze over his jazzy pants and another grunt tumbles out of him.

“You need something, D?” You tease, stroking the obvious tenting. There’s already a wet patch blooming into the material.

He catches his breath, his lips shiny from your kiss and nods his head quickly and excitedly. “But you first.” He smirks.

Your breath becomes a frantic, rhythmic cadence, syncing with the anticipation pulsating through you. The warmth between your thighs radiates, burning you up.

Dieter reaches for your jeans and tugs them down as you sit backwards on the bed. You jostle with your panties, almost comically as you fumble around your desperateness - the elastic getting caught round your toes.

You roll them up and chuck them at him. Catching them, he brings them to his nose and sniffs in deep, emitting a low growl. You watch, as he brazenly stuffs them into the front of his pants, wrapping the flimsy silk of them around his cock.

He jerks himself, once, twice, three times with them before climbing in between your now spread wide legs.

“What a welcome home,” you grin as he smooches up your inner thigh.

He eyes your cunt, sopping and glistening at him. “Touch yourself,” he mutters.

He sucks the saliva down his throat again and it makes you giggle rambunctiously at the sound.

“It’s.” Kiss. “Not.” Kiss. “Funny.” Kiss.

“It’s a little funny.” You titter as his dark eyes flick up at you, hungrily.

Your fingers find their way, slipping into your folds as Dieter hums out in praise as he continues kissing up your thigh.

“How good does that pussy feel?”

“So good.” You moan as you slip over your clit and feel the delicious pang of sweetly mixed pleasure that aches. "I'm so wet for you, Dieter."

“Yeah, you’re soaking.” He agrees, gawping at it, lips dragging closer. "All because of this?"

You watch, in breathless awe, as he rolls his tongue out again; the gleam of the stud flashing at you, and then disappearing from sight as he lowers his head.

You hitch your breath in anticipation, your own fingers removed from your apex, and waiting eagerly for the moment.

You can feel his breath, so warm and moist against you already. So fucking close, but he lingers.

You feel him blow gently and you shudder with the alternating warmth and coolness against you.

“D! Don’t tease me,” you gasp.

“What?” He muses innocently as you feel his breath waft against your lips again. The very slight, tiniest probe of his tongue is felt at the bottom of your slit.

“Oh my God.” You whine.

You hear him laugh, snuffling around his breaths with his tongue still hanging out. A throaty wheeze reverberates as he tickles you ever so lightly, barely ghosting over you there.

Another tiny little prod of his tongue and he withdraws quickly. “You taste so good.” He moans, sucking in again with the hypersalivation.

“Please.”

“What, babe? Tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want.”

“I want to hear you tell me. Slut it up for me.”

You roll your eyes and sigh. “You want me to beg?”

“Yah. Pretty much.” He confirms with a smirk. “Beg me to tongue fuck you.” His eyes almost appear jet now. His fingers feel absorb into your skin. “Tell me.” He grizzles.

“I wanna feel your tongue fucking the shit out of my pussy, D.”

“Yeah!”

“Mmhm. I wanna come all over your face, I want to see it dripping down your chin.”

“Oh, that’s amazing, so hot! I love it when you squirt all over me.”

“Wanna see you soaked. Want to smell it in your beard...” You hum. "Fuck I want to taste myself in your mouth, D."

“Drown me in it.”

“Just please... eat me, Dieter!” You wail, reaching forward for his head and shoving it against your cunt in desperation.

He immediately clamps his mouth over your mound, and you feel that tongue delve into your folds. Running his lips over your outer labia, then wiggling that uneashed tongue deeper inside.

You feel the stud, probing against you in a contrasting coolness, despite it being nestled in the warmth of his plush mouth.

“Mmm, God.” You groan, fingering through his scalp; scissoring tufts of his ratty hair between your fingers.

You can feel the soft prickle from the scruff above his lips tickle and graze as he plunders in further, teasing the outer well of your entrance with the pointed tip of his tongue.

You hiss, head becoming slack on your shoulders; a weightless ball with no pivot, as you shudder.

He pushes in, fucks you slowly and deviously. Lapping, you can feel the stud rub deliciously against your honeyed insides.

“Mmm, fuck. I can feel it,” you smile blissfully. “Oh wow!”

“You like it?”

You nod dreamily, with blown pupils like you’re tripping balls. “Feels really good, D… ah yeah.”

He pulls you apart gently with his fingers, spreading you to reveal the shiny layers of glossy skin. Your clit’s raised and swollen out of its hood as he teases across the tip with the point of his tongue.

Then he lets you feel it; lets the ball of the stud roll over it with ease in a slippery stroke.

Your thighs twitch at the sensation. The slight weight of it - swift and fluid as it skates effortlessly in your slick - makes you groan deeply.

You watch it, how it brushes and knocks against you. Watch how he watches you back, knowing that he’s just utterly fucked your shit up.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

“Yeah? Watch me tongue you.” He smirks as he flickers back and forth, looking back at you with those deep browns.

Watching you watch him as he suctions his lips fully over your clit, sucking like a man starved of water in the desert. Then he lets it go, and flicks his tongue and the stud over that hard, buzzing nub again.

“Yeah!” You pant. "Yes, yes!"

Your eyes cloud over, your vision steams around the edges. It feels so good, so tight and bunching as the ball end runs delicious, chaotic circles around you, making your thighs ripple with each stroke.

Dieter pauses momentarily to swipe into your fleshy ribbons; strings of your slick break from his tongue as he pulls back and observes the mess he’s making of you, with your gloss smeared across his greying, prickly cheek.

You reach forward and run your thumb over his lip and suck it off, tasting yourself. He mouths the word fuck at you in stunned awe as you do so.

He’s relentless as you start moaning, your pants becoming strangled in your throat, fists wrenching in the sheets. Hips lifting and pushing further into his face to seek more, more!

God, you fucking need more!

He works you up with his tongue, relentlessly stroking, licking and sucking all over your saturated cunt. The tongue stud adding to the heightened sensations; the giddy thrill and pleasure of it all builds as glittery phosphenes start to blind you.

He knows you’re so close, so easy to shunt over that edge right now with a mere jab in your lower back. And you’ll be free falling, diving head first into an ocean full of electrical waves.

And he’s enjoying your show of moans and whispers of his name so much to deny you of a good push, or two. Hell, maybe even three.

Dieter speeds up, tongue going twenty to the dozen on your clit like it’s battery operated. The metal ball thrumming against you with just the perfect amount of pressure.

He only stops to suck you up; swallow the glassy slick that pools and leaves tracks, and then he’s settling back into that giddy pace of bubbling annihilation.

“God, your fucking tongue, D!” You wail beside yourself. Legs akimbo and up in the air as though they’re resting in stirrups.

He leans on his elbow, head cocked and resting against your thigh. Insipid tongue wiggling all over your clit ferociously.

You start shaking; your hole already contracting, yearning for his cock to squeeze around. Bearing down on an empty space as you clench and tighten; all of your coils about ready to snap.

And the son of a bitch knows it.

Dieter is wild; like a rabid dog drooling all over you. He shakes his head back and forth crazily as his tongue sweeps side to side over that juicy, swollen clit, humming in delight as he suckles and licks it.

He pulls on your labia, sucking and popping it out of his mouth in lewd squelches.

“Look at you, all spread open for me.” Dieter croons with that slick, sticky smile.

He spits on your pussy and you gasp, biting your lip as his eyes flicker up to you darkly.

He runs his saliva with his fingers all over your cunt. He holds eye contact as he leans in again and sucks on your clit; your body jerking wildly in response.

“Oooooooh fuck!” You cry. “Yeah, oh don’t stop…”

The tongue tornado he’s blasting you with now is making you shake and see ultraviolet stars, sewn like sequins into the back of your eyelids.

He stops licking and sucking, and slips his fingers into you; index and middle right up to the base of his rings.

With his other hand, he pinches your clit out of the hood and runs the ball of the stud around it relentlessly as he fucks you with his fingers curling inside of you.

An insidious puppet master controlling his marionette as you dance on your giddy strings before him.

“Holy shit!” You gasp and cream like crazy.

He can feel you contracting around his fingers as he continues the lick job. Your legs shake violently like in the throes of a demonic possession.

“Fuck, fuuuuuuck! D, I'm coming!”

With your legs spread wide, Dieter, Dieter pussy eater, draws back to watch you come, pulling his fingers out. Just watching with rapt attention as that slit of wet, drenched lips pulses like it’s breathing of its own volition.

Your hole flexing and contracting like a small mouth breathing; the nib of your clit jerking and pulsing as though headbanging to thrash metal.

He marvels, with a wide grin, as your body shakes, the smarmy bastard, and then dives right back in to taste you and repeat the carnage all over again.

You try to shut your legs, crushing his chin and cheeks into your thigh meat, but he keeps you anchored. Preventing you from squirming away, despite how intense it now feels as he continues gnawing on your over-sensitized clit and knocking the stud against it like thunder.

You’re panting now, breathless. Choking on the sensation of his name being lodged and wrenched from the back of your throat.

"D... Oh fuck, Dieter."

And he's got you there again; pulls you up and balances you on the ledge once more, to simply push you off and watch you fly.

As you come again, it froths around his lips. Bubbles of your slick squelching and catching in his scruffy ‘tache, and Dieter hums deeply in satisfaction as he swallows it all down.

He licks you through it, barely settling his pace as he pushes you towards overstimulation. You try to squirm away, but his hands anchor your thighs open and apply the pressure. His eyes flick up to you, flaring brilliantly.

I’m not done with you yet, babe.

He smirks around his tongue hanging out, flashing the fucking audacity of that stud at you as he waggles it about on your clit, and watches you shake with every zap it causes.

“Oh-fuck-fuck-don't-stop-please-D! Fuck!” You blabber.

And then he places a kiss on your pussy, a gentle little mwah. The sweetest of smooches before he dives inside you with his tongue again.

“Dieter!” You holler.

His hands wind under your thighs and rest on your stomach, slowly massaging and squeezing the soft fat there.

“Mmm,” he whines. The tip of his nose grazes your clit as he slides his tongue in and out of your hole.

You feel him go lower still and run his tongue around the tight knot of your ass.

“Mmm,” you coo as you gasp.

You feel the stud run over that puckered, tight flesh and back up again as he detours to your ass, and you feel the tip of his tongue circle it teasingly.

Tracks of his saliva and your slick have slid down to your ass and they glisten at him as he pulls back. His cock twitches in exasperation to just rub himself all in it.

It takes every inch of restraint not to pull himself out and splash you down with his come already. But he wants you to enjoy this; savour the piercing whilst it’s still in because after this, that bitch is coming out.

He works through the pain, that dull throbbing, and for a while forgets about it completely as he drowns himself in your folds.

He wants to fuck you so bad. Just get his cock wet inside you and feel you gush all over him. Shit, it’s a fucking drug. He’s addicted to this pussy, can’t give it up.

Just one more hit. Just one more hit.

He reaches down and gives himself a squeeze, feels your panties still stuffed in there around him and pumps. He grunts into your hole, fluttering around his tongue.

He wants to cover you with his come. Paint you with it. Watch as it seeps through your lips and down to your ass.

Flood you with every bit of him and lick it all up after.

“Oh, fuck.” He growls audibly around your pussy at the thought; his cock pulses in his grip and he swears he’s almost there himself. A few more pumps and he’ll be spilling liberally in your panties.

The best part is when he’s come, and then he slips himself back inside you; feels your mutual wet warmth and carries on thrusting gently. Sometimes, and when he’s not completely whacked out of his gourd, Dieter can get fully hard again inside you doing just that.

Just feeling the gentle pulsing of your walls post-orgasm, twitching around him, brings him back from the brink of a floppy death. Building himself up and spraying you down again and again.

The sex between you lasting for hours. Just fucking you with his come all over your mound, sticking in your thighs and on his belly. Watching in intense awe as that cream pie pearls out of you.

Yeah, fuck that’s nice.

Dieter thinks about the way in which he fucks you; flexing his hips upwards in a circular motion to hit directly on that spot that makes you go cross-eyed every damn time.

Your reach forward through your legs, feeling your stomach crunch as you weave your hand through his hair again, subtly crushing his face to your centre, grinding up against it and he thrashes back and forth.

“I want you to squirt, babe. You think you can do that for me?”

“Make me,” you plead, hoarsely and nodding.

He circles, teasing up and down; sweetly sinful licks as he brushes the hub of you with the bar. He runs his fingertips gently over you; your clit bobbling under the pads of them and you groan before he slides back and inserts a finger into you, pulling it out and dragging the gooey slick over it.

He teases those swollen pussy lips around his tongue as you buzz wildly.

“I love how soaked you get. Fuck.” His eyes twinkle as you glance down at him.

He slips in another finger, down to the hilt, and pulls it out; rubbing them together and feeling the silky wet of you around his thick digits.

“Come all over my face. Soak me. Soak me!” He instructs. He pluders his fingers deep inside you, stroking fast against your spot. The metal batters against your clit as he flicks his tongue back and forth over it.

“Oh fuck, D!” You wail, arching and writhing as he increases his speed and the pressure of his deeply buried digits. “Holy shit, that’s so fucking good! Keep going, baby! I'm almost there!”

You hear him quaff in; the wetness of your cunt sucked to the back of his throat as he thrashes his tongue about like in the throes of a mosh pit.

The beads on his wrist clack together in a fast tempo as he finger fucks you hard. Those two fingers sluicing in and out of your hole as the stud flicks back and forth, sending you soaring, higher and higher.

Frothy, cream foams in your lips. And he tastes it all in his mouth, groaning for more.

You can feel it, rushing into your core, bearing down and contracting. The weight felt against your bladder like a shock. Your core muscles tighten and weigh heavier as it builds.

And he pulls it out of you like an incantation.

You go momentarily deaf; your body feels like it's rising, floating off the bed entirely in those few seconds before it hits.

Before the wave crashes through your core and gushes out of you.

“Oh my God, oh shit! DIETER!!”

You give him what he wants, you utterly soak him. Wet splashes of you spray his face and sluice down his chin. You soak the front of his sweater as he draws back to watch you squirt buck wild as you explode.

“Fuck yeah!” He’s utterly beside himself and can feel his cock pulse wildly as he immeadiately spurts around your panties too.

Thick, pearly strings congeal around your labia as he breathes out groaning, and licks up and down your slit slowly and languidly.

The stud hits your overly sensitised clit and you flinch like you’ve been tasered.

He pants as he licks you clean like he’s just run a marathon. He runs his chin up, smirking as your slick catches in the fuzzy hairs of it, and he leans up and plants a kiss on the soft skin just under your belly button, gently making out with it.

“Mmm,” you groan languidly with heavy lids. He climbs up your body and rubs his sticky chin and lips across your mouth and cheeks, as you giggle and wail at him to get off you.

He chuckles and rests up over you on his palms; broad shoulders hunched and his sweater riding up over his belly. You can feel the jab of his thick cock against you.

“Show me that tongue,” you prompt and he sticks it out at you, craning his neck down into you so you can suck gently on the end of it; taste the stud inside your mouth and the sweet tang of your cunt.

You smile at him, completely blissed out through heavy eyes, that same relaxed glassiness about you when you’ve just taken a deep drag of dope and cuddle up with him to watch Weekend At Bernies.

“Maybe I should keep it, the stud?” Dieter suggests with that hint of a lisp again.

You giggle and toss a pillow up at him. It boffs the side of his face and he chortles, trying not to drool once more.

“Maybe you should,” you smirk as he plants a fat, sticky kiss on your mouth.

You reach down inside his pants to give him a squeeze and feel how wet it is in there.

“Couldn’t help it,” he says to you bashfully as you grin at him. “That was too fucking hot.”

Dieter smirks, sticking his damned, metal filled tongue back out at you again.

Thanks ever so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed some tongue time with Dieter! 👅🖤

MASTERLIST | DIETER BRAVO MASTERLIST

#dieter bravo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo the bubble #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo trash panda #dieter bravo fanfiction #jett's writing #dieter is a menace

[blue2black]

COD incorrect quotes, but their from TikToks I saw and are now buried somewhere deep in my likes:

PART 1

—————————

*in an Uber*

Soap: And I find out that my parents are like, related.

Gaz: Like, their siblings?

Soap: Yeah like, blood siblings.

Gaz: Is that why you walk weird?

—————————

Soap, walking up to Ghost with a camera: Cheese!

Ghost: What is this? 🤨

Soap: I really think I can’t treat you anymore.

Soap: The fact is…

Soap: I’m in love with you. 😍

Ghost: The fu-?? 😨

—————————

Graves: Come on sweetheart, give us a smile.

Graves: Geez Louise, must be on your period. HA HA HA!

Valeria: …

Valeria: Let me drive a seven ton semi-truck over your torso and I’ll be smiling throughout my entire prison sentence.

—————————

Gaz: Nik is so old fashioned.

Laswell: Oh, really?

Gaz: Nik is so old fashioned that he doesn’t even watch TV.

Gaz: Like, when he wants to kick back and unwind he just goes on long fishing trips with Price.

Gaz: And Nik doesn’t listen to any new music, he just listens to a bunch of metal mixtapes that Price sends him.

Laswell: Wait, John sends Nik metal mixtapes?

Gaz: Nik is so old fashioned that he really struggles showing affection.

Gaz: Like, he rarely hugs me or anyone of that matter.

Gaz: One time I thought I saw him and you holding hands underneath a table from afar, but then I got closer and I saw it was just him and Price.

Laswell: Nik and John were holding hands underneath a table? (.-_.^)

Gaz: Well, yeah, but it really more like a good old fashioned handshake. You know? Like, the prolonged kind where two old school guys don’t let go of each other’s hands while sitting side by side listening to a briefing.

Laswell: Kyle…are Nik and John dating?

Gaz: What? No, Nik isn’t dating Price!

Gaz: Most of the time when Nik and Price hang out, they just get in fist fights with each other.

Laswell: They get in fist fights??

Gaz: Yeah, I can not tell you the number of times I’ve overheard Nik and Price go into an office, lock the door and just fist fight each other.

Gaz: I mean, the halls positively echo with the sound of flesh smacking up against flesh, furniture bumping against the walls…

Gaz: And not for nothing, but I think old fashioned Nik is winning pretty much every one of fights based on how loud I hear Price moaning-

Laswell, getting up: OKAY-

(Gaz knew what was going on, he was just fucking with her like the lil shit he is.)

—————————

Price: I just don’t wanna see you get hurt, okay?

Price: Those people up there can kill you!

Price: I know you think you’re tough, Farah, but you are fucking 5 feet tall!

Farah: I AM 5 FOOT 5! 😡

—————————

Laswell, getting ready to order food: Alright, what do you want?

Soap: Hamburger.

Laswell, parroting: Hamburger.

Soap: Chips.

Laswell: Chips.

Soap: Fart.

Laswell: Fart.

Laswell: 👏🏻 SOAP. 🤬

Soap: HEHEHEHEHE *evil Scottish giggle*

—————————

Valeria, dressed up: Okay, how do I look?

Diego: Like a woman about to go forth in sin.

Valeria: Oh, good. Exactly the look I was hoping for. 😉

—————————

—TEXT—

Scottish Bastard: hey

Scottish Bastard: ghost

Scottish Bastard: HELLOOO

Scottish Bastard: simon?!?!

Scottish Bastard: are you there??

Scottish Bastard: ………

Scottish Bastard: just imagine

Scottish Bastard: you and me

Scottish Bastard: in a room

Scottish Bastard: with nothing on

Scottish Bastard: OILED UP

Scottish Bastard: and ready to mingle

You: What the fuck are you on about?

Scottish Bastard: now that i have your attention

Scottish Bastard: i have an idea >:]

—————————

Soap and Price, waiting for exfil: ….

Soap: …

Soap: Last night I dreamed I was a bottle of ketchup, and you were mustard.

Soap: Which is weird, because usually you’re mayonnaise in my dreams.

Price: 🤨???

Soap: Why do you suppose that is?

—————————

Ghost: When I die…

Ghost: ✨Viking funeral✨

Ghost, handing Gaz a gun: You shoot the shot.

Gaz, cocking the gun: Okay.

Ghost: If you miss, you kill yourself.

Gaz: Wait, what- 😨

—————————

*in an Uber pt 2*

Soap: Well, I’m shocked—of course.

Gaz: This is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life.

Soap: I mean, that’s dramatic.

Gaz: No, it’s not dramatic! Your parents are-

Soap: That’s dramatic!

Soap: Listen…I was shocked at first.

Gaz: At first??

Gaz: You’re not shocked still??? (ಠ_ಠ)

—————————

(Nik being the cool dad to everybody in 141)

Nik, answering his ringing phone: Hello?

Norris: Hello, sir, I'm the Colonel working for Captain John Price. I have Sergeant MacTavish in my office.

Nik: Okay, what did he do? 🙄

*Norris looks at Soap*

Soap: 😢

Norris: *sighs* He punched another solider in the genitals.

Norris: Three times.

Nik: OH MY GOD, DID YOU JUST SAY GENITALS? HAHAHA-

Norris, listening to Nik laughing his ass off through the phone: THAT IS THE FUNNIEST THING I'VE HEARD ALL DAY-

Norris: *looks at Soap*

Soap: *smiling proudly*

Nik: OH MY GOD, he is so funny! 😆

—————————

Ghost: Don't touch me, Soap!

Laswell: Can you guys like, stop having relationship issues while I'm trying to hack into their security?

#call of duty modern warfare #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #call of duty #nikolai cod #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john price #captain price #kate laswell #farah karim #valeria garza #phillip graves #soapghost #nikprice #incorrect quotes #tiktok quotes #tiktok #blue2black: call of duty

[takeme-totheworld]

I think what bothers me the most about the "Aziraphale doesn't have religious trauma" argument (which I've seen from many many different people, this is not aimed at anyone in particular) is that it's usually based on the idea that religious trauma = trauma based on being taught to believe in something imaginary, whereas in the GO universe God and Satan and Heaven and Hell are all real.

And like...yes, that's true and I understand where the people who say this are coming from.

But "being taught to believe in something imaginary" is actually not the basis for a lot of what I saw in Aziraphale that I identified so strongly with along religious trauma lines.

You know what things are a hundred percent real?

The church I was raised in and the heavy sway it holds over its members.

Institutional Christianity in general and its influence on the world in general and my country (the US) in particular.

The indoctrination I was subjected to, which was not only about the alleged existence of God, Satan, etc, but was also very much about inculcating us all with a very specific (and harmful) moral framework, and an extremely narrow-minded and tribalistic view toward the rest of society, and intensely harsh, self-punishing rules for being A Good And Righteous Person.

And all those other things, especially the self-punishing moral strictures, have stuck with me far longer and been much more difficult to excise from my brain than the fear of Hell, which I was actually able to dispense with fairly quickly once my brain made all the necessary "oh, this is all bullshit actually" connections.

So when I talk about my personal religious trauma, I'm talking about the trauma I experienced at the hands of a religious institution, which actually encompassed a much broader category of things than "being taught to believe in a scary imaginary mythology." Yes, that was absolutely part of it, and yes, that part was used as the basis to justify the rest of it—but in my case, it was in some ways the least impactful part.

When I see Aziraphale clinging to the belief that Heaven is "the side of truth, of light, of good," I see myself desperately clinging to my love and trust in the basic moral goodness and rightness of the church even when it was measurably harming me. When I see Aziraphale saying things like "it's not for us to understand" or all the weird propaganda about the virtues of poverty in the Edinburgh episode, I see myself parroting real-world ideologies I'd been indoctrinated with growing up, even in the face of factual evidence that life was actually much more complicated than that.

I was taught trust and loyalty toward a deeply harmful institution, I was taught to accept whatever that institution told me was the truth without questioning it, I was taught a bunch of factually wrong and deeply fucked up paradigms about how the actual world of human beings was supposed to work, and I had to work incredibly hard to unlearn all of that. And those are the things I see in Aziraphale that I identify with so intensely and so painfully. And all of those things are also religious trauma.

Anyway, I'm not trying to start an argument about this, just to articulate where I'm coming from. If you are a person who also has religious trauma, who doesn't personally see your experience reflected in Aziraphale, it's totally valid to say that! But to categorically state that it's therefore not religious trauma, or that religious trauma is the wrong metaphor for anyone to use here...just maybe don't do that?

If there's one thing that's become obvious to me in this fandom it's how many different lenses this story can be interpreted through, and it makes me feel icky to see the one that most resonates with me repeatedly and specifically called out as incorrect. By, genuinely, lots of different people, over and over again.

#good omens #aziraphale #personal #religious trauma #religious indoctrination

[ddejavvu]

hi babes im literally so anxious that school is starting and i need some kind of comfort

can you do eddie helping r out of a panic attack or just helping them with their anxiety <33

i'm sorry you're anxious about school, honey! i wish you the best of luck, i'm always here if you need to talk, and i hope this helps!

--

The stance that Eddie finds you in already has his heart picking up speed, your hands bunched in your blankets as your knees draw to your chest like magnets. Your breathing is staccato, rapidfire puffs of not-enough air entering and escaping your lungs all too fast.

He doesn't know which is worse, the hand clawing at your calf, or the one that's itching at your neck. Both are leaving marks, and he rushes for the closest first, the one on your leg.

"Hey!" He's sure that doesn't help, but he can't figure out a better way to announce his presence. He grips your hand as you jolt tugging it hurriedly away from your leg and wincing when it draws blood as your nails rip off of your skin.

"Fuck," He dabs away the surface level scrape, his white shirt now dotted with crimson, "Babe, babe, let go."

He reaches for your other hand, trying a calmer approach this time. He's upset that panic is now infesting him, he berates himself for not being the strong one, but you're hurting and he doesn't know how to help you, and he's panicking.

He lays his hand out over yours, feeling a tremble wrack through your frame, "Let go, sweetheart, hold my hand instead."

You do, and Eddie takes it as a sign that you're still somewhat coherent. That maybe you're not gone, maybe you just need help finding your way back. He feels your fingers tighten around his and nods encouragingly even though you can't see him, "Yeah, there 'ya go. Squeeze, baby, get it all out."

He's absolutely certain his fingers will ache tomorrow, but he doesn't care. He lets you mutilate his hand, because it's better than mutilating your neck. Sobs pour out of you like rainfall, quiet one second and striking the next, and he sees your teeth dig unforgivingly into your plush bottom lip.

"No more," He urges, guiding your first hand to the one that's clasped in his own and using his now-free hand to tug your lip out from under your teeth, "C'mon baby, you're gonna cut it open."

You're no longer able to muffle your sobs by biting your lips and Eddie finds them even more heart-wrenching at full-volume. He tugs you sideways into his chest, you're bent at an awkward angle, but you can hear his heartbeat, and that's all that matters.

Maybe it's your newfound stress toy in Eddie's fingers, or maybe it's the soft thumping of his heart in his chest, or maybe it's his voice humming you familiar tunes that vibrate through his chest and send ripples of calm through your own, but you're coming back. Your breathing is clearer, your sobs aren't as frequent, and your fingers are starting to loosen up on his hands.

Finally your cries turn to sniffles, your shaking to an occasional quiver, and you let your hands go limp in Eddie's grasp.

"Hey there," He breathes shakily, his voice thick with emotion, "You okay, baby?"

"I'm sorry," Are the first words out of your mouth, and they only twist the knife in Eddie's heart, "I didn't mean for you to see that. And- and I probably hurt your hand, I'm really sorry, Eddie."

"Don't apologize." He insists, his brown eyes glistening with unshed tears, "That's- that's not something to apologize for. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." You offer lamely, wiping at your tears, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He parrots, "You're not."

"You're not either." You frown at his mangled fingers, "Do you want ice?"

"No," He shakes his head, lacing his with yours, "No, just talk to me. I wanna- I wanna know what happened."

"Nothing happened." You mumble, "Not yet."

Eddie cocks his head to the side, waiting for an explanation.

"I just- I'm really anxious." You admit, the word coming out chewy and strained, "I.. sometimes I don't know how to shut my brain off."

"Drugs." He grumbles, and it gets a laugh out of you. He relaxes an inch.

"It's hard." You continue, face dropping from the chuckle, "Sometimes it's a little too hard."

"Yeah." He nods, blinking his tears away when you squeeze his hand, lighter this time, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"I.. I really am sorry, Eddie." You repeat, and his eyes snap to yours, ready to fight, "Just-! Just listen," You beg, and he nods once.

"I don't.. I try not to do that in front of people. It's- well, I know it's not a comforting sight. I'm sorry for scaring you, but thank you for.. for staying. And helping."

"I'm glad you scared me," He admits, a glossy sheen over his pretty doe eyes as his nose burns red, "Ignoring scary things doesn't make them go away. I wanna face the scary things, I- I wanna fight 'em. With you."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He smiles weakly at you, leaning forwards to nuzzle his nose with yours. It's intimate, sweet and tender, and it nearly resurfaces your tears.

"'Gonna beat its ass." He adds, after a moment of too-good-to-be-true silence from him, "Stupid fuckin' anxiety."

"It's in my head," You laugh, "You're gonna hit me in the head?"

He reconsiders, brows furrowed. Then he grabs your face, tilting it so that he's speaking directly into your ear, definitely a bit too loud.

"Hey, you in there! He-lloooo," He taps a fingertip on your temple, "Anxiety? Get the fuck outta my baby!"

You giggle at his antics, "Eddie-"

"'Can't see anything in there," He cuts you off, turning from your ear to your face, peering into your eyes, but past them somehow, "No, not there, maybe-?" He lifts your chin, peers intently up your nose, "Shit, not there either. How about-?" Then he's popping your mouth open, peering around while you giggle lamely under his touch.

"Fuck." He concludes, "Can't find it. Wherever it is, though, I'm ready." He holds up a threatening fist, "Not gonna let that little shit hurt you anymore, sweetheart."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one-shot #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hc #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson dialogue #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fanfiction #eddie munson angst

[nekropsii]

VERY IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I am saying this as someone who has Vriska as one of my favorite characters. She is a deeply complicated, very well written character who, yes, has done a lot of fucked up things... But she was ultimately a severely troubled 13 year old girl who grew up on Alternia who, in being completely disabled from the ability to heal from abuse and trauma, perpetuated the cycle of abuse because it was all she ever knew. I love how she is written. I think she is a very good character.

With that out of the way...

A major reason why the position of "Vriska did nothing wrong" provoked such a harsh reaction from fans back in the day doesn't just have to do with how controversial she was as a character. It doesn't just have to do with people already hating her, or thinking she's irredeemable. It's not irrelevant by any means, but there's a lot more to the reaction than just "Vriska Bad, and I disagree with you" than I think a lot of younger fans especially do not realize. The online culture in and around the 2000's and 2010's was rife with extremism and bigotry. Yes, it still is, but it's genuinely hard to compare how things are in the online political landscape right now to how they were in the 2000's and 2010's. It was fucking severe. Naziism was a substantially more open and honest part of meme culture, and shockingly bigoted phrases were parroted left and right like it was a serviceable punchline. A major part of what contributed to this culture was 4Chan, particularly /pol/- these were back in "the glory days," when 4Chan was considered an internet giant that wasn't to be trifled with, rather than just... A bunch of anonymous nerds on an imageboard.

This exposition is necessary, but I won't keep you here all day. Onto the main point.

"Vriska did nothing wrong" is a troll position. It has a lot of... Political charge behind it. Intentional political charge.

A part of why it invoked such a nasty response was that it was directly and intentionally echoing an oft-repeated phrase at the time, born directly from 4Chan's /pol/: "Hitler did nothing wrong."

Again, I need to stress this: This parallel is intentional. It was literally part of the bit. That was the entire meme, that's why people said it- it was extremely shocking to say, not just because of how contrarian it was, but because it was literally parroting Neonazi Rhetoric. I see a lot of people using that phrase as a defense still, or saying it as a joke, but from the way people talk about it, it seems like the history behind it has been forgotten.

This post is a reminder. This is not an attempt to stir the pot, this is not an invitation to start more Vriscourse, nor is this post Vriscourse in itself. I am reminding everyone that this phrase is loaded for reasons that have nothing to do with Vriska being controversial. Tread a little more carefully. At the very least, be aware of what joke you're making.

#homestuck #homestuck meta #homestuck analysis #homestuck fandom #beta trolls #vriska serket #vriscourse #cw antisemitism #vriska.pdf #homestuck.pdf #nekro.pdf #nekro.txt

[ok-ish-hermitcraft-headcanons]

Just a bunch of species headcanons for the hermits! Also they are all either gods/immortal for fun :)

Xisuma (he/void): Voidwalker prince. Knows he's immortal. One of the oldest immortals

Grian (he/parrot/chirp/they): Parrot hybrid, Head/First Watcher. Minor god of chaos. Has lived a thousand lives. Treats YHS as a joke because why not?

Mumbo (he/him): Half Watcher, minor blood god. Does not know he's a god. Eats redstone for fun, scares his friends because of it.

Scar (he/it/vex): Vexling elf (Vex with allay magic). Does not know he's a god. Was born in Riverdale, kidnapped at a young age.

Pearl (she/her): Half-Watcher/moth hybrid. Also knows she's a god, actually likes the Watchers.

Impulse (he/they/yellow): Demon. Very much knows he's immortal, wishing that he isn't because he doesn't want to watch his brothers die. One of the oldest hermits

Tango (he/magma/they): Netherborn avian, Listener hybrid. Party knows he's a god. His Listener traits aren't visible and more of a development from the experience that was his high school to keep him fucking alive

Zed (he/void/wool): Harbinger of the Nether. Knows he's immortal. Looks like a basic sheep hybrid but also has demon wings and black blood!

Gem (she/her): Faun. Thinks she might be a god but it would mean her brothers aren't. Also has magic and can world-hop!

Etho (whatever vibes work for you): Voidling (Voidborn changeling), Watcher. Knows he's a god, could care less. First player turned Watcher. One of the first players

Iskall (they/he/she + some neos): Cyborg (also something else. I don't fucking know anymore). Doesn't care about gods, marked by the God of the Hunt.

Doc (he/it/blast): Creeper/goat/cyborg. Can and will fight the gods, Xisuma hopes that he doesn't find out he is immortal (he knows).

Ren (he/pup/they): Wolf-shifter. Knows he's the god of the Hunt. Idk this dude is cool

Bdubs (he/sun/sky): Glare/phantom hybrid, also has a connection to plants. God of the sun and flaunts it. Also is a full blooded Listener

Stress (she/leaf/spring): Nature spirt. Knows that she's immortal. Looks like a cinnamon roll, would kill you.

False (she/wing/they): Avian, with golden eagle wings. Does know she's a god, could care less.

Cleo (she/they/rot): Zombie hybrid. Knows she's immortal. Spites her old friends by getting attached to Joe. Also one of the oldest players

Joe (any pronouns): Angel of life. Known immortal. Just vibing with the soul he was meant to harvest.

Jevin (he/it/slime): Slime hybrid. Doesn't know he's immortal. Honestly idk much about him

Cub (he/it): Allayling (allay with vex magic.). Doesn't know he's a minor god. Claims to be a vex for fun.

TFC (he/ender): Ender dragon hybrid. Knows he's a god. Brothers with Notch and Herobrine.

Beef (he/they/it): Cow hybrid. Doesn't know he's immortal. He is basically just existing. Gotta love it.

Keralis (they/he/black/empty): Watcher!. Knows he's immortal. I also know next to nothing about this dude

Xb (he/river/fish/they/it): Guardian hybrid. Doesn't know he's a god. Idk fish

Hypno (he/they): Fire sprit. Could care less about being immortal.

Wels (he/him): Angel hybrid. Knows he's immortal. Hates being an angel because they are a bunch of stuck up beings.

----

Bonus (5) Helsmits:

Ex (he/they/void/end): Voidwalker prince, 2/3 Watcher. Yeah knows their immortal

Hels (they/it/he/fire/blaze/hell): Fallen angel/Watcher. Same as Wels tbh. But 10x worse because Wels escaped and Hels suffered.

Badtimes (he/blue/xe/they): Allayling! Also a Listener! Just vibing :D

Xornoth (they/it/red/dark/vine/he): Demonic elf! Demigod and just out there living vines life

Grain/Ariana Griande (she/it/chirp): Watcher! She knows it's immortal! (trans mtf not important to the hybrid sheet but important to me <3)

I went nuts with pronouns the rest of the helsmits have so much more I'm holding myself back bc I'm being forced to bed :( - 🔮🍄

fun!!

(also i’m so sorry this is from jan 2023)

#hermitcraft #headcanons #hermitcraft headcanons #hermitblr #xisumavoid #grian #mumbo jumbo #gtws #impulsesv #tangotek #zedaph #geminitay #ethoslab #iskall85 #docm77 #rendog #bdouble0100 #stressmonster101 #falsesymmetry #zombie cleo #joe hills #ijevin #cubfan135 #tinfoilchef #vintagebeef #keralis #xbcrafted #hypnotizd #welsknight #🔮🍄 anon

[arachine]

dc (the psychological thriller/horror type. you know i’m a sucker for horror content) for miguel would be crazy… like man lives as himself on another earth. something feels off about him but he looks & acts just like your miguel. think he would be one of the only spider-people this would be in character for too. he’s definitely darker & more brutal than the rest but also thinks he’s doing the right thing. tell me that isn’t him before he actively tries to reform himself

+ nobody steal this idea bc i wanna write a full fledged fic where reader is his s/o

oh it most definitely is him. but let’s run back that ‘man lives as himself on another earth’ because that’s such a creepy fucking concept.

like can you imagine being the neighbor who runs into him every now and then? your conversations are surface-level, usually genial, in the way that conversations go when you’re in a hurry but still don’t want to seem rude. you usually catch him when he’s heading out the door to drop his daughter off. most mornings, he’s got a cup of coffee in one hand, with a school bad tucked under an arm, while the other hand struggles to juggle his keys and a lunch bag.

gabri’s the first to speak. always bright-eyed and over-enthusiastic, a stark contrast to the man behind her who is obviously not a believer in the phrase: the early bird gets the worm. still, despite his tiredness, he isn’t too good to offer you a kind smile and a small nod of acknowledgement.

“good morning!” she beams, with the same eagerness you’ve come to anticipate everyday. miguel is usually the next to say something, sometimes it’s a simple parrot of his daughter’s “good morning” or a “hello”.

but today? today is different. there’s no greeting, no smile—not even a nod of acknowledgement. his walk is different too, straight-backed and stiff, and the bags under his eyes have all but disappeared (not that you’ve committed them to memory or anything).

“good morning,” you say first. experimenting. waiting. he stops mid-footfall and turns to look at you, but it’s strange — his face. there’s an uncertainty on it, like he’s confused by your greeting.

“oh, hi.” curt. you poke again, curious.

“hey, wait!” you close your door, running down the steps and across the grass to catch him. “i made a bunch of these last night,” you hold up a container of cookies, “maybe gabri can take ‘em to school and share with the class?”

his eyes linger on the box in your hands for a few seconds before they flit to your face. again, that hesitance, uncertainty. then, he reaches a hand out to grab them.

“alert. impending threat,” his watch announces.

“wha—“

miguel retracts his arm possessively, knocking down the box of cookies in his wake. he looks at you once, and it’s startling, amber eyes ablaze with specks of golden ire.

without saying another word, he resumes his trek to the car and drives away. when you bend down to pick up the cookies, there’s a stray wisp of silver webbing hanging from the side of the container.

whoever that was, it definitely wasn’t miguel o’hara.

#made us the neighbor #bc yolo #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv x reader #miguel o’hara

[socialistexan]

The "we can always tell" crowd is having a real normal one on tiktok recently.

So, basically, a trans man who passes extremely well made a video that if one of the many bathroom bills passes, "you can expect this face in the women's bathroom."

And oh my Lord the number replies and stitches that are some variation of Conservative White Man Facebook Photo incarnate that play a gun cocking sound and speaking in that slow-ass white man cadiance saying shit like "Listen here Twinklefart Sugarfaggot" or some shit, and then just letting loose a string of violent threats that it would make the Punisher blush.

I'm absolutely certain if you're in tiktok you've seen some of them. It's just... So wild. They never get it.

And the comments of these videos are full to the brim of a bunch of chucklefucks just falling over themselves to parrot the same transphobic shit and tough guy posturing over and over. And it's like, man there can't be this many of y'all that are this fucking ignorant yet so firm in your convictions. It's staggering.

If y'all can always tell, then why are y'all threatening a person who was assigned female at birth doing exactly what y'all want

But this isn't some fun gotcha game, this means real violence for trans people, all of us trans women, men and NB people, and also any gender nonconforming woman really. None of us are safe. These people have been fully conditioned to see anyone they deem a man (no matter the truth of it) entering a women's restroom as a threat and told to shoot first and ask questions later.

I'm not sure the solution, we're about a step and a half from death squads.