#Tw locking up

[problematic-alters-unsilenced]

tw for being locked up, isolation for no reason, shitty ex of ours, dormancy/sui mentions

im the host and had the misfortune of one of my alters meeting this girl.

originally, i would be locked in my headspace room if the caretakers/protectors/headspace leaders didn’t deem me safe for myself.

it was always because i apparently threw a tantrum.

but it didnt happen much before we met this girl.

long story short, she was mainly using us to play whatever fantasies she had with two alters that were fictives from her favorite animes.

I have hundreds of alters at this point and she asks for and demands for only two at all times. the alter that met her and told her we were a sys is not one of them.

he really had feelings for her and it just feels like she used it to get him to convince me to not be with anyone else.

the story gets very complicated but basically i ended up wanting to be with someone else. and as the host, i feel like it was my choice. the body is mine, and i felt lots of love for this other person.

she didn’t like this person, they knew each other, and didn’t like that i wanted to be with someone else.

when i was ignored always?

anyways when i tried to be with this person, she didn’t like it. and the two alters she always talked to liked her too and basically always did what she wanted.

and because i wasnt doing what she wanted and was apparently acting like a child and throwing tantrums, i was put in my room for weeks.

whenever i did front, i would try to talk to her and only felt ignored. so i went back to talking to the person i did like.

eventually they got annoyed because apparently i wasnt learning my lesson and started being put in this empty room. completely bare, no decor no bed no nothing just empty and dark and alone.

i think i remember trying to die multiple times, hoping to stay dormant permanently and just not have to deal with any of it.

we arent with that person anymore, we have a partner system now (i think you can call it that?) and i have someone that tells me they care for me now

i just wanted to talk about this because its something thats been on my mind for a few days now and it’s been upsetting me.

it still happens occasionally now, but my alters reasoning now is that i get hysterical and wont calm down. empty rooms scare me though

- 💖

Not putting on anon cause i don’t care pft

that is absolutely horrible D: you deserve to be listened to and understood and respected just like anybody else. That is just.. horrible. I hope you're doing better now and that it gets better in the future <3

[cutetanuki-chan]

“You can’t cure this,” said the Prince. “It’s spirit shit … possession. You can ward people so they don’t get grabbed—if you’re really good—but otherwise, chop them up and burn the bits. That’s the cure. Civilian or Edenite or House, it makes no difference.”

[catscidr]

// taking care of your dogboy (hsr edition!) //

i. note — sry i havent been posting yall i got a job + ive been working on three cosplays at the same time bc my local con is coming up lmao (´ཀ`」 ∠) however the brainrot never stops. it only takes a break. a little break of approximatively. a month. ish. ......... anyways dog hybrid hsr boys brainrot !!! lmk if we want more of this with more boys •ᴗ• comments and asks are appreciated hehe ii. includes — blade, gepard, boothill and gn!reader iii. cw — slice of life stuff turning into smut, possessive behaviour, overstim, slight dom/sub dynamics, real messy stuff, manhandling. use of the word "hole" to keep reader gender neutral iv. wc — 1,9k

blade is a mutt riddled in scars and dirty bandages from living on the streets and fighting to survive.

you think he might be some german shepherd mix, but he refuses to let you swab his teeth n gums for a dna test (last time you tried you narrowly avoided a punch to the face. he apologized in his own way afterwards), so whenever people ask, just say he’s a rescue to avoid revealing that you actually just… don’t really know what breed he is. they usually drop the subject and simply go on their merry way, seeing as he wasn’t the type of pup to appreciate affection from strangers anyways– it’s rare for you to leave the house in the first place, though.

you had to switch to a remote job because blade is just so persistent when it comes to you. although possessive is a much better descriptor, because he doesn’t let anyone near you. whenever you leave to get groceries he ends up practically breathing down your neck from how close he gets— acting as if he were your literal shadow— glaring at everyone that gets too close to you. you’ve made it a habit to always go to self-checkout lane so blade doesn’t scare off the cashiers.

the second you get home he’s all over you, determined to rid you of that outside stench and replace it with his own. you started packing your grocery bags in a way that nothing will break if (read: when) you suddenly drop them on the floor, all because you’re so familiar with blade’s impatience.

he holds you still by engulfing your body with his, knees caging your hips as he grinds into you, shallow and deep. blade’s growls and huffs fill your ears just as much as his cock fills your hole, his knot kissing your tightness from the outside.

“do you like this? like how i have to fuck you every time you decide to go outside again when you could stay here,” with me blade omits, his tail swishing back and forth on the bedsheets behind him, the sound just barely grounding you to reality.

your grocery bags were long forgotten on the foor (as they usually are), your mind too foggy to function. clawing at the sheets, you try to crawl away from blade’s grip— to no avail.

he tuts, craning his head to bite down onto the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “i might just need to mark you for extra precaution,” he bucks into you, knocking the air out of your lungs. you hear squelching, the constant plap! plap! plap! from his thighs smacking against your ass and whine, broken babbles leaving your kiss-bruised lips.

“b-blade, y’can’t- ah,” he shushes you by plugging you full of his lengthy cock, his knot almost threatening to press inside of you. you whimper, feeling lightheaded from a mix of both nervousness and arousal.

he soothes the hickey he left on your neck, licking it languidly as he stills to bask into the way your hole throbs around him. warm and tight and oh so tempting.

“shit, wanna fill you. wanna… have everyone know they can’t have you. you’re mine, mine to love ‘n mine to fuck,” you’re not lucid enough to process his thinly veiled confession, too busy writhing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to get him to continue moving.

you might want to invest into some good concealer or into those skin coloured tattoo patches to cover the bruises and bite marks blade’ll leave on you if you want to continue being a functioning member of society. you can’t really be walking around in public as if a dog had just mauled you right before you left the house, can you?

gepard is a golden retriever because of COURSE he is. similarly to blade, he likes to invade your personal space a lot— not because he’s possessive, but because he’s extremely protective of you.

the random bruises you used to randomly notice on your body faded as soon as he came into your life. gepard’s soft, lingering touches healed them; gently placing a hand on your hip before you bump into sharp furniture so it doesn’t hit you, redirecting your head to his shoulder as you nod-off in the train before you bang your head, and so on.

it’s a full-time job and he’s working 24/7, always on the lookout for anything that could possibly hurt you as you saunter off… wherever, without a care in the world— because he took care of everything!

he would clean the apartment for you, cook (though you usually insist you do the cooking; a human doesn’t have the same taste in food as a hybrid), and even act as your own personal alarm clock. gone were the days of being woken up by loud, blaring beeping. gepard woke you up with forehead kisses instead, making your mornings much more pleasant.

but poor geppie, he’s always taking care of you; so take care of him, won’t you?

every so often you’ll sit in his lap to help him get rid of whatever stress he held in his body. your hands will knead at the muscles in his broad shoulders, all while you simultaneously kiss away the strain in his face. his brows are furrowed as you do your best to soothe his muscles; you never forget to smooch his cheek, nose and the corner of his lips.

though the attention and gentle acts of affection always ends with your hands lower than they should be.

“ah ah, no touching, remember?” you murmur in his ear playfully. you had been at it for what felt like hours; gepard’s cock and abdomen was smeared with the remnants of his cum, skin tacky from his previous loads. your hand shows no sign of stopping, not even when he begged oh so sweetly.

“c-come onn. just… jus’ wanna kiss…” and who were you to deny your sweet boy? your lips find his in a heartbeat, his tongue swiping over your own sloppily as he breathes you in like a depraved man.

the only condition you had when you did this was for him to keep his hands to himself— at least until you both decide to move on to something else. until then, his fists clench the sheets beneath the both of you, and his ears stay flat on his fluffy head.

“i’m… i’m close again, g- aah, please, please…!” he begs, cock weeping precum as you continuously jerk him off. you smile, absentmindedly rocking your hips to the rhythm you held him prisoner to— gepard was too engulfed in the warmth of your hand to notice, anyways. “cum whenever you want sweet boy,” you purr, and he keens as he buries his face in your neck, his hips lifting off the bed ever so slightly as they meet your hand and he thrusts, riding the high of his orgasm.

sticky cum coats your hand for the nth time; you relent your grip on his cock for his sake, instead choosing to shower him with chaste kisses all over his face. gepard whines, taking ahold of your waist weakly as he breathes into the crook of your neck.

“geppie, your han-“ he cuts you off, swiftly switching positions so you’re now laying on your back as he hovers over you, chest rising and falling quickly, catching his breath from the intensity of his orgasm. gepard’s tail wags slowly behind him as his hands creep up from your waist to your chest just as slowly- you feel his cock harden against your pelvis, precum spilling from his pinky tip.

“‘ts my turn now,” he huffs, leaning down to nip at your neck.

boothill is the most obnoxious dalmatian hybrid you’ve ever seen (not that you’ve seen many, or at all). but he’s made your life so fun so you can’t be too mad at him

he’s always dragging you out of bed to go do something— could be going to the park nearby or sit in the living room playing video games on your dusty console, it doesn’t matter because he’ll MAKE you step out of your cozy nest!!

you’re glad he’s friendly, because you’re not sure how you would handle such an excited hybrid when you left the house. people come up to the both of you to chat and he indulges their questions, essentially leading the conversation (while you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to say).

boothill is also great with kids, unexpectedly. 9 times out of 10 when you go to the park he ends up playing with someone’s child, bright smile on his face as he messes up their hair with a rough hand. they’ll throw a frisbee for him to go catch and he’ll do it happily, or he’ll even… teach them how to beat people up.

(you stare mortified as he teaches a little girl how to throw a proper punch only for her to then punch her parent when she leaves boothill’s side. you go up to them and apologize profusely, forcing boothill to bow with you.)

he also loves to help you out, even though he’s not the greatest at household chores— but he definitely tries! though he is a stellar cook, which never fails to surprise you whenever he’s on dinner duty. he just… really sucks at everything else.

it’s… mostly because he just has so much energy. he sweeps the floor? nope, he’s picking off the pieces of the broom off of the floor because he accidentally broke it. he’s fixing your bed? nuh uh, you’re throwing out the ruined bedsheets because he accidentally tore them to shreds somehow.

so, with all of these accidents happening because he’s just brimming with energy 24/7, you started purposely exhausting him. or, rather, gave him the green light to exhaust you until he tires himself out.

“booth-aah, w-wait, you’re being too…!” you fall over on top of his hard chest, keening at the new angle his cock reached inside of you. he repeated his assault on the spot that made you see stars as your jaw gaped, broken moans leaving your lips.

“don’t tell me y’re tapping out.. haa, already!” boothill grunts, his grip on your hips tightening. he throws his head back with a loud moan, abs tensing as he nears yet another climax— the 5th one of the night. maybe, maybe not. you lost count after the third one.

you bury your face into the crook of his neck, focusing on the feeling of his cock plugging you full instead of the soreness, the burn in your muscles that came from your knees holding you up on his lap.

watching you riding him will always be his favourite thing in the world, even if he always ends up fucking up into you and taking back control at the end of the night.

“gonna cu-uum…” you whine, clenching around his length almost painfully tightly, hearing his breathing hitch as an orgasm is ripped out of him in consequence to yours. boothill’s fingers dig into your ass, his hips lifting off the bed as he cums deep inside of your sloppy hole again, sticky fluid building up beneath the sheets.

you collapse on top of him fully, chest heaving against his own as you come back to your senses, slowly but surely. boothill’s ears perk up, hearing how your breathing had evening out.

“so… got another round in ya?”

[ezramire]

htn comic wip

[drawerbread]

this will probably stay a wip forever because backgrounds drive me insane… anyway happy valentine’s day (sorry)

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price and Carol Ohmart

House on Haunted Hill (1959) dir. William Castle

[amlli]

silliest worsties

[notedchampagne]

later loser! you took the part that cared

[midnightcrows]

"'I pardon him, as God shall pardon me,'" said the Emperor. "Come, swear your loyalty, my son—my brother—beloved—Lyctor—saint."

Rereading for Mercy scenes made me get inspired from this bit

[felidaefatigue]

why yes i do have tlt and tt brainrot

[dorkfruit]

i was wondering what would have happened if ianthe had successfully cut her own arm off and regrown a flesh magic one on her own, so i did some doodles to play around with different concepts for it.

my thoughts on the matter below....if u even care

my initial idea was like, to do a very noodley string of flesh. something very rubbery, sticky, and stretchy. because anything she created wouldn't have the support of bones, i thought maybe it could be very flexible to compensate. she doesn't have a regular hand, and so the "string" wraps around the base of objects to give her a grip on it. for heavier objects, she fuses the veins on the string to the handle of the object, as well as adds more veins on the "shoulder" and "elbow" sections for more support. also i thought it'd be funny to watch her try and slap someone, so she winds her shoulder back and smacks them like an arcade sticky hand which is hilarious to visualize for me LOL

^ arcade sticky hand

anyways, i figure she made the noodle arm as a Oh My God I Just Cut My Arm Off I Need To Replace It Quick type of solution. it's temporary, but sort of works. then it's like. okay we need more muscle on this because this is kinda impractical, so she adds onto the base (near the shoulder), and it eventually forms into a weird tentacle thing, throbbing and veiny and gross, that tapers into a thin strand near the end, to keep the whole Wrapping Around Objects To Grab Them (although this sacrifices some of the stretchiness in favor of strength) but it is kinda interesting to have her switch between the two (and perhaps other shapes i didn't think of yet) based on which is more appropriate for the situation, sort of like a swiss arm knife but made of meat.............. and so yea that was just my idea on how she would have done a flesh arm as opposed to having harrow's bone arm (: lots of fun concepts and much more to explore but this is just my first attempt .. for now maybe

[boobgoogler]

klavier is a project sekai addict capcom told me (truth) and I just KNOWWWW apollo picks at his lips when he's working hard on som shit... aka... afflicting klapollo with mo'isms

[uncanny-tranny]

Maybe this is just my inner abused child speaking, but I am always initially suspicious of parents who complain that their child is a demon. Almost every single time, it turns out that that child is either facing intense internal turmoil or they are currently being abused and are trying anything to scream for help. They are drowning in a river all whilst the adults in their life complain that they can see that kid flailing in the waters.

In my experience, it is an abuse tactic to treat the victim-survivor like they are the issue, that they need to be gotten rid of, that everybody's lives would be better off if they were gone. Be extremely fucking wary of that.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

The House on Haunted Hill (1959)

[cirrocula]

that one french anti-smoking ad but make it hoodflash

instagram | twitter

[ghostietea]

One Homestuck / The Locked Tomb parallel that I'm surprised I haven't seen anyone bring up is how Jade Harley is essentially a lyctor. She absorbed the soul of her best friend to gain immense power and immortality. He's gone forever, existence forfeited to save her life, and yet she'll see a bit of him every time she looks in the mirror.