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"I don't want to read this" is totally valid.

"This is disgusting to me" is totally valid.

"I don't want to read this because it is disgusting to me" is totally valid.

"I don't think anyone should be allowed to read or write this because it is disgusting to me" is authoritarian.

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Hey, can y’all rb this if it’s okay to send you messages asking about your ocs, cause on god I wanna interact with y’all but I am terrified of being annoying lol

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umm i need reassurance that my presence is wanted but i can’t ask for reassurance because that’s really Embarrassing and it wouldn’t feel genuine if i asked for it

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As an adult you must cultivate the skill of “Gross! Oh, well. Not my business.”

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Anemoia (How Long Will You Reach For The Ghosts Of Distant Stars?)

They could see the stars tonight, bright splatters of light across the shadows of the sky. They don't really know why they decided to come out here, so far from the comfort of their little cottage, but they don't want to return, not yet at least. Wrapped in their cloak, they nestle themselves into the trunk of an old, hollowed out tree as they crane their neck upwards. The stars flicker and blink down at them, almost as if they were waving a hello. A ridiculous thought they don't mind entertaining as they raise their own hand to wave back. Maybe they are a bit of a fool, but they never claimed to be wise in the first place.

This reminds them of dreams they could have sworn they had forgotten, the wisps of names and faces that linger on their tongue even as the memories faded from their mind. They could almost feel the leathery skin underneath their fingertips, the sharp edges of scales too big. The blooming feeling of awe as feather and fur alike curl around their shoulders. Even the whistling winds, rustling through leaves and grass, remind them of the songs they used to sing, the lyrics long forgotten. Not quite unexpectedly, it hurts. Aching something fierce and bold in their chest, that forces tears to well in their eyes. Logically, they know it's silly to cry over something they can barely remember, over something that the world doesn't remember existing. At least, not in this life.

But they don't swallow down the sob that leaves their throat nor wipe away the iridescent tears that fall from their eyes. They don't mind the chill that seeps into their chest as their tears soak through the thin fabric of their shirt, far too busy watching the stars drift across the skies. They think, at first, only distantly, that they can see the twisting shapes of long serpentine bodies and billowing wings. They swear they can hear the timber of voices overlapped, the shadows of all too human bodies that they should know but can't quite remember. They wonder if they can miss people that don't exist.

They wonder if these memories are what drives them away from the people, the connections, of this earth. Star child, they remember their grandmother whispering to them in the late hours of the night. You are loved, they remember her murmuring to them every day from then on. They remember clinging to her feeble form as she spun tales of mystical beasts and stories of man made gods. Rivers to a lake, spiraling into the deep caverns underneath, hoarding knowledge underneath their silence. They wonder if there was some truth to her tales after all.

Star child, that name, title they suppose, has haunted them throughout their entire life. They wonder if it is why they can taste lightning on their tongue even when the skies are clear, if it is why they can feel the brittle-snap of thunder between their teeth. They wonder if it is why frost cradles their skin even when hearth-warm fire curls in their chest, the duality often leaving them sick and bedridden. Wildfires spark to life, just shy of burning and charring the vulnerable flesh of their heart. That coil around their ribcage and rumble as though the earth was quaking under a cat's quiet purr. All the while, ice forms at the base of their throat, encircling their arms like sharp shackles. They don't mind the chill, even when it hurts to speak. They welcome the frost and the cold, wrapping themselves in snow to stave off the constant heat.

They suppose it is, just like the winds that push for them to wander the world. A wanderlust unseen in their family, where others root themselves into the soil, they take to the skies. Following where the breeze and the gales blow them, the peaks of snow-capped mountains and the depths of oceans. Their body is not meant for travel, frail from the war that wages inside them. But it's not as if they could stop. They ache for the road, to chase after the stars as if they could someday reach up to pluck them from the skies. Their only real companion over the years, the feel of coiled bodies in the palm of their hand and the sound of an echoing roar in their ears.

Sometimes, they still expect a tail to curl itself around their legs even though the creature that tail is connected to only resides in their dreams. They still turn and expect to see the divine tipped claws of monsters, to have to tip their head back to speak to looming shadows of those they should know and still somewhat do, even if they haven't met them yet. Their disappointment when all that greets them is silence and emptiness is often crushing and immeasurable, inconsolable grief that drapes across their shoulders like a dark veil. Those days, they spend their time inside, away from the sun and the stars, away from the gaze of the people that stare and stare. They spend those days painting and writing, over and over, trying to capture the faces and forms of their companions they so desperately want to remember.

But it never looks quite right. Something is always wrong, always off. Failure is a bitter thing to swallow, it tastes of bile and blood and tainted honor. It is the shattering of pride, the sting of human hubris that leads them to bury their half written journals and messily sketched paintings. It is what forces them to grip the few pieces of their memories close, cradling their dreams like the most precious of treasures. Long fluttering scarves and cloaks, flowing fabrics that hide the invisible pouches of chiming bells and glimmering scales. Though they carry little on their journey, they can't help but feel an anchor's weight on their shoulders, Atlas heavy. A worthwhile price for the imaginary companions that drive away the loneliness, even if they do still want to feel the steady heartbeat underneath their hands.

Star child, they muse to themselves, it grows more fitting by the year. Stardust in their veins and the world at their fingertips, it is only a matter of time before they will be cradled in the careful coils of their once lost companions, one way or another.

@n0tamused

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I think that one thing people fail to understand is that unsolicited literary criticism coming from an online stranger who is reading with no knowledge of what the authors intended goal is, is not going to be received the same as say: the authors beta reader or friends who know what the authors intended goal and has the sufficient knowledge and input to help the author reach that desired outcome.

"But I'm only trying to be helpful" How do I know you have the knowledge and literary skill for you to be able to actaully do that when we don't know each other and you are essentially a stranger to me? Are you applying this criticism based out of personal biased experience and desire to see the story or characterization be driven in another direction or tweaked, or do you know the author's intentions for the character? If the story is incomplete, are you basing your criticism of a character on the incomplete narration with only partial information available of them or are you building up a report until the story's completion? Did the author provide you with the information needed to make a fully informed criticism?

Have you discussed with the author what their plans are or are you assuming them based off the narration, especially if the narration is proven or implied to be unreliable or missing key points of the plot? Are you unbiased enough to help them reach their desired outcome for the characters and story regardless of your personal feelings towards the characters/antagonists and setting? Can you handle being told your specific input isn't wanted because you're a reader and/or have no written anything relating to their genre or topic? Do you understand and respect that the author's personal experiences might influence their writing and make it different than how you would have done it personally? Do you understand if an author only wants input from a specific demographic relating to their story?

If it's for fanfiction or other hobby media, are you holding a free hobby to a professional standard? Are you trying to give criticism because you feel like the author has produced 'subpar job performance' of their fic? Are you viewing their work as a personal intimate outlet or something that must conform with mass media? Are you applying rules and guidelines when the fic is shared for simple sharing sake? Is your criticism worded appropriately and focused on the parts where the author has requested input on rather than a general dismissal and or disapproval?

Have you put yourself in a place where you assumed you have the input needed for the story to evolve better, or have you asked what the author needs and what they're having trouble with? Can you handle having your criticism rejected if the author decides their story doesn't need the change and not take it as a personal offense against your character? Are you crossing that boundary because you think you are doing the author a favor? Are you trying to be helpful, or do you just want to be?

I think sometimes when people hear authors go 'please don't give me unsolicited writing advice or criticism' they automatically chalk it up to 'this author doesn't want ANY constructive feedback on their stuff at all' and not "i already have trusted individuals who will help me with my writing goals and- hey i don't know you like that, please stop acting so overly familiar with me'

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I use a variety of things but mostly my messages app. I write and send drafts to myself.

plz reblog for science

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some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.

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I think some people forget that some literature and some media is meant to be deeply uncomfortable and unsettling. It's meant to make you have a very visceral reaction to it. If you genuinely can't handle these stories then you are under no obligation to consume them but acting as if they have no purpose or as if people don't have a right to tell these stories, stories that often relate to the darkest or most disturbing parts of life, then you should do some introspection.

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bone and marrow; cut and served

word count: 2.4K content warnings: i think this one works better without too specific warnings, but general content warning for heavy yandere content and everything that comes with that, including kidnapping, torture, explicit physical abuse, drugging and so on. ← NOT kidding please heed the warnings

a/n: wanted to try something a different style since i think my dialogue could use some improvement. so this is 100% dialogue and is meant to read like a dialogue script!

Ah, y-you're back… You're… finally back…

…Paid? You got… paid? Did you… are you selling me off to someone else? O-oh, you mean my ransom finally got paid… by my family…

Right, you did mention that…

…

…You're not going to hit me for disobeying you, or forgetting? N-no? Because you're… not that cruel?

Wait, does that mean that. That when you ripped off my nails o-on camera, it wasn't so you could… so you could rewatch the recording and enjoy my pathetic crying and wailing? O-oh… I see…

I… I guess that does make more sense. I mean, who would… who would want to record something like that for their own sick pleasure, right?

Hii— I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you! Of course it's—of course it's fine if you want to record something like that for yourself! Someone like me has no right to com—

Ah, a joke…

Of course I'm relieved. I'm just…

…

I'm not used to you not digging your nails into my cheeks every time I dare look away from you…

And, um, well. This doesn't. It doesn't feel real, you know? It's been five months since you, uh, p-placed me in… well, kidnapped me. B-being free again sound so… surreal…

This isn't… some sick joke, right? It's really not? You promise?

I-I'm glad. …Thank you.

…Huh? There's something seriously wrong with me if I thank you after everything you've done to me? W-well! You know!

…I don't sound very thankful? That's, um…

…

…Do you want me to get knees and kiss your shoes? You'd need to unbind me for that th—No! Of course I'm kidding! I'm—

O-oh, you're really… you're really doing it, you're really unbinding me. I, wow…

You must really trust me…

W-well, yeah, of course the handcuffs were really uncomfortable. You only ever let me out of them when you were, were t-tortu… I can't say it.

The… huh? No, rubbing them this harshly won't just make the scarring worse, l-like you're, um, saying. W-wait, please don't thro—ow!

Oh, this is… disinfectant…

Um, well, for all I know you could've put some cleaning product in here like the last time you… Even if you're insisting it safe because the ran… Right, the ransom got paid. I'm free now…

N-no! I'll use it, I'll use it! You're way too close!

Even if you put something else in here again, or it's really disinfectant and you're going to beat me again for using it because this really is just your idea of entertainment… I'll use it. You did give it to me, after all.

…Only on my wrists? Okay, only on my wrists…

…

So, uh, when's the exchange date? Or time? You're not usually this chatty. Normally you just dump food on the floor in front of me, or whip out the camera and then, well…

…Today? In… in a couple of hours? Oh… you're really early then?

You want me to… you want me to get cleaned up first? Y-you mean, in your bathroom? I'll get to… use your products? R-really?

Yeah, I'm… really happy to be clean again… I seem happier now than when you told me I'm to be free?

Well, it's just. It's just sinking in that this is for real now…

And the drive should be pretty far away from… I mean, what would I know. I was out cold for that. I just assumed… It would be kind of stupid to kidnap and hold someone close to where they live, right? You'd want to be a distance away and not get caught… right?

OW!

Ow, that really hurt! You didn't need to twist my arm like th—ow! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I wasn't calling you stupid, I was complimenting y—ah!

You're pulling… holy shit, you're pulling my hair really hard. I won't run, so you don't have to—hng! I'm—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to backtalk.

…I knew it.

You said, earlier, earlier you said you weren't that cruel, but you really do enjoy my tea—I mean, you really do enjoy hurting me.

Ah! Don't shove me that hard, you—

Because we've… arrived? At the—wait, wait, wait but you said that was still a couple hours away? You—oh, your… your bathroom…

Y-yeah, of course I knew that. I was just…

…

The bath looks really warm… Is it really okay for me to—I should just get in already and stop wasting your time? Y-yeah, um… sorry…

—H!

You made this scalding hot on purpose, didn't you?

N-no, I'm not complaining. I'll take it, I'll take it… This is better than no bath, s-so…

…I should put my hands out? Okay…

Is this your—your bath soap?

…

…I'm! It just feels really nice to smell something so mundane again…

No, wait, wait, I'll use it! I'll stop wasting your time, please don't take it away!

…I should… I should be thankful because I finally get to clean myself?

R-right… Um, t… thank you very much…

—H-huh? I should kiss your feet to r-really prove it l-like I offered to earlier?

That's… that's so… I'll—Okay, I'll do it..

Oh it was a, it was just a joke… I'm not eager! This is just—Of course you'll hurt me less if I do as you say, even if it's—

Even if it's something like this…

…

It's… it's already time to get out?

Um, right…

…

Actually, um, could I… could I stay a couple more minutes? I just… This is my first bath in so long, I don't want it to end…

OW! You really don't have to pull on my hair every time I—ow! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please don't—

Wh… what are you… doing with those scissors?

If I… if I misbehave again you're going to… No, no, nonono I'm sorry! Please, please, don't—I'll behave, just don't—Please! I'm really sorry, I don't, I won't—

Aah…

Okay, thank you, I'm sorry, thank you…

…

A-ah? Change into this? You even… you not only let me use your bathroom, you even got me new clothes…

Y-yes! Thank you! I'm sorry! I'll—

Eek!—I'll be quiet now. I'm sorry.

…

S-stick out my hands again? Okay…

…Handcuffs again? No, no of course I don't mind! It's okay! Please don't get mad…

Y-you're not? Okay…

…I talk a lot? Um, I think… Maybe, I'm just kind of lonely…

You, uh, you have been my only social contact for five months now…

Or, um, roughly five months now. I'm assuming. It's kind of hard to tell how much time has passed when you've been stuck in a basement for so long.

I just…

…

I'm not—I'm not just stalling for time!

It's just… Are you, are you sure this isn't some messed up joke? You're not dangling this hope in front of me just to take it away?

This would… this would be a good time to reveal that.

…No? My family really paid the entire amount?

…They've never really… cared about me, so it's kind of surprising… Honestly, when you first mentioned it, I thought you were joking. I mean, it's true they have the money…

I'm their son, so it's only natural? Well, yeah, I guess, but…

It's… That's cruel of you to say. You had to have known what our relationship was like before you…

…Anyway, this joke isn't funny anymore. Please take me back to the basement now.

…

…It really isn't. You've done it, you've completely dashed my hopes. I hope you're happy now. I… I'm never getting out of here, I know that, okay?

It's… really cruel of you to toy with me like that.

So just… just take me back.

That's what the handcuffs are for, too, right?

…

…No?

No, you're really just going to throw me away like this?

Actually, I… when you approached me that night and told me to get into your car or else, I didn't know what to do. It made me so, so happy when I realised you must've planned this months in advance.

To think you were spending that much time thinking about me…

I was so, so certain you were finally getting revenge on me…

…Yeah. I thought… I'd been stalking you for two years, and even before that—so I thought… I thought that you'd taken me home to put me in my place, to teach me a lesson.

The last couple of months have been the happiest in my life. It's like… I was in heaven.

I mean, getting tortured in real life is a totally different ballpark than fantasising about it, that's true, but! But! Even if it was just painful, I wouldn't mind, because it's you! I could never hate or dislike anything you do to me!

You're backing away, but I promise you don't have anything to fear! Even if you go through on your promise, I don't mind! I won't struggle.

I belong to you, so anything you do is justified! You have that right!

But seeing your expression, you really didn't know about any of that…

I thought—I thought!

I thought maybe for once I was something special to someone, even if you did just hate me! I thought that with hard work and a lot of time, maybe I could be someone special to you in more ways than just the toy you keep in your basement!

I thought that…

…I guess it makes sense that you just remembered me as that rich loser you shared a class with once. But I…

…

…Why don't you just keep me in your basement again?

You wouldn't even need to keep me in handcuffs; I'd never run away! Or—or, of course, you could keep me bound the entire time, if that would make you feel more at ease!

You can… you can keep doing whatever you want to me! At any time! I won't struggle anymore! I'll cry and look cute and pitiful and pretty and whatever else you want me to!

You don't need to feed me regularly, or at all, or—Please don't back away…

I actually… I actually really like it when you pull on my hair!

I… I really love looking at my reflection in the mirror you left up in the basement, because I get to see the permanent marks you left on my face, like when you broke my nose three weeks into being home with you!

My favourite is probably when you coo at me and call me cute and condescendingly wipe away my tears—it always seemed to please you when I cried even harder… Even if—even if that was just an act, you seemed to be having fun!

And—and you really liked forcing me to look directly into the camera and.. and making me degrade myself, and repeat all those embarrassing lines, and—

What about that time you suggested getting me a shock collar? Or, or what about all those times you threatened to carve your name into my skin so I'd be ruined for everyone who came after you? You were joking but, but you seemed really into the idea! We could do that!

Am I talking too much again? You can tape up my mouth if you want, or break my arm for scaring you, or for being so arrogant, or—

Don't you—don't you want that to continue?

Nothing has to change!

Just throw me into that chair and lock the door and don't give me anything to eat for a week in punishment and raise my price and things can go back to the way they were! Or however way you want them to be!

Ack—Y-you're really pulling again, I can feel your nails really digging into my scalp—No, that's not a complaint!

I'll be good! I'll do anything! Anything—just please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease don't throw me away!

Pl—

…Really?

You'll do it? You will?

Thank you!

Thank you thank you thank you thankyouthankyouthank—

Mgh! I'm sorry, I'll be quiet now.

…Do you… do you want me to kiss your feet? Hehe, of course I'd be happy t—

Nngh! You're pulling my hair really hard…

You should… you should lead me around your house more like this. I have to bend at such an awkward angle when you pull like this…

Ah! Right, sorry, I'm sorry, I'll be good.

…

…Um.

We… just passed the basement?

…

…Why are you… unlocking the front door?

…Hey?

…

…Um, um that's the—that's your car. Why are you—

Aah! Wait, no, even if you shove me into your—You're just—You lied to me!

No—wait—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get mad and accuse you of anything! Please, don't throw me away! I'll be good! I can—I can be useful!

I'm obviously already yours, but I could really b—

Stop, wait, don't close the car door! I'll—UGH!

Ow, you really… you really hit my stomach hard…

…That's what I get for not cooperating? I'm sorry…

…

Nngh…

…

W-wait, don't start driving, I—ow—Wait! Don't you want this too?

I know it wasn't just my imagination! You—hng—you enjoyed this too, didn't you? You insist you're not like that, but you actually really like having someone at your mercy, d-don't you?

I can be that for you! You don't—you don't have to do this! I'd be really happy like this, so won't it work out for both of us if you—

You can, you can, keep extorting my parents for larger and larger sums of money! I know they've set aside a fund for my inheritance—even if it's smaller than my brothers', it's still enough for you to live a comfortable life! And then I can stay with you forever, so…

Aren't I talking too much again? Aren't you… going to punish me for this? I know you want to.

So won't you—Ahh, you really kicked me hard—Won't you please recon…

…Why are you stopping? Y-yeah, this place is pretty remote, but we're in the middle of the road… W-wouldn't it be better to turn arou—

Wait, no, nononononononono please don't bring out the chloroform, wait, please, don't throw me away like this, I can be good, wait wait no wait, please—

Please don't leave me like this!

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Spider Web Lies Of A Thousand Mirror Eyes

Winding corridors of dust covered shelves, missing the little hatchling who wandered the halls. Wispy smoke reaches out, a frail finger tipping a half finished book into waiting hands. The ink has long dried, but the memories have not, so they take up a brush. Swirling the fine bristles into the ink, staining the pages with shadow and tar. Another name, another chapter, one more world to add to the archives. They set the brush down, dabbing away the ink with a damp cloth as they gather stardust into their arms, weaving it into the image of a spider's web. Engraving it into the leather covers with sunglow pins, the name shimmers in the faint light of the lanterns. A moment of hesitation before they turn, the doors silently closing behind them. Distant, ephemeral stories await their arrival, and a vast archive trapped in time can always wait just a little bit longer.

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This is Money Snake. She only appears every 312 years. 

If you reblog her picture within the next twenty-five seconds you will have good luck and fortune for the rest of your life. 

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*long-suffering sigh*

just a small psa — if yandere/dark content isn’t your cup of tea, just block and move on. you are in charge of your internet experience.

writing/consuming this genre, as much as it is a coping mechanism used by me and others, does not equate to glorifying it. please utilize reading comprehension and pay attention to disclaimers, and the way these topics are depicted.

does the author of the work you’re reading properly tag and call for the importance of seeking mental health if you/others are portraying unhealthy behaviors? conduct research on the author and confirm whether or not they have a history of condoning shitty behaviors. consume art with a critical eye.

moral senses are not universal and should never be treated as such.

ask questions. cross reference. if something squicks you, blacklist or block! you aren’t the target audience, and that is okay. everything is not for you.

and PLEASE conduct some self–study and unpack your biases with your concepts of good and bad. not everything is black and white. i pray that someday, you learn to be significantly less judgmental with what people choose to spend their time doing. if nobody is being hurt, leave the perpetrator be. moral greyness isn’t evil, bad, and shouldn’t be shunned or demonized.

writers/artists are already given enough shit, no matter the genre. you don’t like it? scroll. block. it’s free. make your own stuff. create what you want to see. art with scary/dark themes has been here for centuries, and will be here after all of us are gone. do you think something is worthy of critique? offer something constructive and move on!

just because YOU!! don’t like a piece of art with dark themes doesn’t mean it should never exist. if you want sterile, clean work then make your own.

and for the love of all, please practice what you preach and be kind.

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I think some people forget that some literature and some media is meant to be deeply uncomfortable and unsettling. It's meant to make you have a very visceral reaction to it. If you genuinely can't handle these stories then you are under no obligation to consume them but acting as if they have no purpose or as if people don't have a right to tell these stories, stories that often relate to the darkest or most disturbing parts of life, then you should do some introspection.

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i support all dark content writers and artists and readers and enjoyers; i don’t have to love everything that you love to respect you and to have your back.

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A Home Amidst The Infinite Stars

He looks inhuman, with his smile that strains just a little too much at the corners and eyes that gleam with an artificial liveliness. An ink black stain on his skin, marring his neck and displaying his sin. Dangerous, you hear the whispers, mocking and cruel with a hint of caution that feels ice cold. Aventurine, they call him, with eyes of vivid colors that perhaps would have been mesmerizing once, but were dull and glassy now. A gem, polished and set on a pedestal for all to see.

You find it, and him most of all, tragic. Someone clearly put effort into making him presentable, clothing him in bright hues that are impossible to ignore, and his personality is loud, ringing in your ears like the echoes of a scream within the long halls of desolation. He hides himself away, protecting himself in the only way he can. Even then, you see the scars that chip away at his mind, the tiny nicks and scratches that feel like chasms to your stardust vision.

You want to reach out, wish you could cup his soul in your hands, and hide him away beneath the starshine veil you wear. You want to fill his wound with sunglow and stitch him back together with a long thread, shadow stained to prevent another scar. Perhaps he would not notice a new mark on his skin, but you did not wish to add to his canvas. Perhaps kindness is poison to him now, years of cruelty that led to painful isolation.

He is frozen, frostbitten limbs that burn as they warm by the fire. You wonder if he would cry if you hugged him, the steady pulse of a star in your chest that reaches out for him just as it has for your cherished companions. You wonder how long it will take before he willingly returns to your side, head bowed as he presses himself into your chest and shudders as though he'll fall apart the moment you let him go.

You wonder when he will relax in your hold and when he will not flinch but lean willingly into your touch. Perhaps it will take years, or even decades. Perhaps he will never lose the sharp, jagged edges of his broken pieces. But that's okay, you have time. You will wait however long it takes, just as you have for each and every one of your beloved companions.

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bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements