#a crazed lunatic

[soildmud]

yalllll my gf just bought me bg3 today and i was so excited because its been on my wishlist for like ever and stuff so as soon as it allowed me to i started installing/downloading it—IT TOOK THREE FUCKING HOURS!!!!!! BECAUSE I’M POOR AND CAN’T GET SHIT TO OPTIMISE DOWNLOAD TIMES!!!!!!

but the worst part of it all….IT WON’T OPEN. it stopped responding every time i tried to open it up (i’m a mac user so i am already at a disadvantage) so i desperately look online as to what i have to do and according to steam i have to Verify File Integrity which i thought they were supposed to do after everything downloads, hence why it took 3 hours, because it took an extra hour to verify everything—but apparently there might be a file corruption or something idk i’m just a girl i know nothing about these things. BUT GET THIS: THE FILE VERIFICATION IS GOING TAKE OVER 24 HOURS TO COMPLETE. oh my god. why did i choose to quit my job and not save for a Real computer. why did i not ask for that for christmas. (no one had the money to buy one, that’s why—which is fine, i have never asked for anything expensive for christmas) WHY DID I HAVE TO GET ATTACHED TO BIG HUMONGOUS FUCKING GAMES THAT KILL MY LAPTOP!!!!!!!!!

i am usually a patient person yknow. i have willingly gone on 3 day nonstop car rides with my family of mentally unwell and untreated people. i have gone through almost 12 years of american public education without ever asking for accommodations to my crippling mental illnesses or deteriorating health. i have done hour long layovers while sick from anxiety and stress in airports full of stressful stimuli. i have gone thru a lot. but this was the straw that broke the camel’s back i think. as soon as i saw the number fluctuate between 22 to 1D 8hrs i just about cried. i felt defeated. i nearly threw a tantrum like a toddler because of this. i wanted to start pulling my hair out of my head and furiously scratch my skin until it bled out of pure and unbridled rage and frustration. (i am probably autistic and i think someone told me this could be a meltdown???) but i only merely grabbed my hair very harshly and started hyperventilating for a couple minutes before i sat down on my bed and started doing eye makeup. why??? idk.

all this is to say i am not happy with BG3 right now, even though the issue is not all with the game, but the fact that i am attempting to play it on a heavily aged macbook air that definitely was not made for playing anything above coolmathgames.com. my spring break is nearly over. i have like three days left. i just want to enjoy my freedom a little longer by making my little OC in this game and then putting them through The Horrors. i will update you all later, it is now 4:08AM and i have not slept for almost 24 hours. i feel sick to my stomach and my head hurts, but i think it’s because i made the foolish mistake of drinking about 20oz of coffee (which didn’t even taste good btw, because i had to make the coffee with a creamer that Wasnt my beloved oat milk creamer—i cannot enjoy my coffee if it is not made with the oat milk creamer. nothing else will suffice.) and then proceeded to make four different rainbow loom bracelets (i just bought the monstertail loom after debating whether or not i should) in rapid succession without breaks. i also watched eight episodes (maybe more) of the watcher podcast, because the coffee gave me extreme anxiety to the point where i had to carry scissors with me every time i left my bedroom because i was convinced there was someone in my apartment (but what would scissors have done??? i am incredibly out of shape and have never even fought another human being physically since i was under the age of 10) and the scissors were the only thing that would make me feel safer. and my phone in case i could hide and call 911.

sorry for the brain dump i am just incredibly sleep deprived and am waiting for my wife’s return from work—which should be soon! which means i’ll be okay and no longer anxious or stressed. SEE YOU LATER GUYS MIGHT DELETE THIS BUT IDK !!!!! SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON MY DOWNWARD SPIRAL!!!!!!!

[cattailtales]

international cat day, post fuzzy miscreants

[starlooove]

The Wayne’s being a branch of the Addams family would be so funny actually

[svtskneecaps]

not to qsmp purgatory post in the month of our lord december 2023, but genuine question for soulfire mains:

i've seen a lot of fanposting about soulfire being connected to ice symbolically the way bolas was to gas, how much of that symbolism was directly pushed or reinforced by the ccs?

as a bolas main, i can think of blue's spawn being a frozen hellscape, bad wearing the freeze armor 24/7, and bad finding green's base with the ice from a blizzard event!

[liliallowed]

others: who's your favorite character? or crush? is he hot anime villain?

me: *looks at dust*

yes absolutely.

I want to affectionately punch him in the face

he's my favorite Disney princess.

[forget-me-not-automaton]

Sometimes you love a thing so much that when you see it the happy stims are SO intense that they feel like convulsions-

[llamaflower]

A character that thinks their doomed by the narrative but not really because they have been living near doomed characters for so long it has just become their normal. :D

[animebw]

“Are all my issues with women Christopher Nolan movies? Because yes, women are involved, but it’s never really about them.”

I will never get tired of this show’s willingness to just run famous people over with a cement mixer on a daily basis. Sometimes with their explicit support!

[synchlora]

so after all the last thing that i sawwwww

were the waves crashing violently--

on the shoooooooooooooooooooorreee

[frenchpsychiatrymuderedmycnut]

by unofficial

traffic heading my way

somewhere in Bergerac with Antoni

——-

…unhinged…deranged…manic…unbalanced…bonkers…loopy…insane…bananas…mad…touched…mental…crazed…berserk…lunatic…batty…disturbed…

+++

…this positively…thoughtful…day…of yet…another week…

+++

…sitting…thoughtfully.…transiting…mental illnesses…

+++

…my dark hole…my empty hole…my holy hole

+++

…amen…

~by unofficial

_____

I made it out by the skin of my griefs.

~Ocean Vuong

[wrestlezon]

pros and cons of chuck taylor not being on tv for me:

con: i am not seeing chuck on the tv pro: not being on tv means he is letting his hair growing out. he is generally looking more and more scruffy. nice

[mxrainbowsheep]

lmaoooo “ you should never leave dumb fucking tags on strangers post” This is tumblr mate, would you have rather I left a dumb fucking reblog with my opinion instead? Also, consider, this is the fucking internet. Everyone’s a goddamn stranger. Further, I do know what consent is, because A.) I’ve had it violated and B.) I have had gay sex. Because I am gay. so smooth move, ex-lax.

To be honest a better insult would have been to call me a “wretched immature child” which wouldn’t be too far off (except for the fact I am an adult) because then at least you could have made a point to say that my take was childish, or that I am inexperienced. But please, tell me that my first hand experience of how consent in (gay) sex works is wrong as well as my second hand knowledge of how consent in kink/bdsm works is also wrong (no seriously please do it’s a fascinating topic, I did a little bit of reading on some of the other consent systems).

Otherwise, please have fun at pride sucking on dick, clit, and tit shaped lollipops.

[suguann]

OH, DARLING—ASTARION

✎. he’s in a perpetually strange mood for the rest of the day, quieter than usual and more sulky, and you have the sneaking suspicion he's upset with you. | wc. 1.3K+

tags. fem!reader, established relationship, jealousy, slight dirty talk, pet names [18+ only]

masterlist

Eighteen days. That’s how long it takes between the Shadowlands and reaching Wyrm’s Crossing. Longer still since you’ve interacted with anyone other than bandits, lost refugees, cult-crazed lunatics, and your merry band of weirdos (Gale’s words, not yours). 

For once, you’re not picking berries off bushes to offset hunger until you make camp or plucking bramble from your pants when the occasional trail turns out to be safer than the King’s Road. You can finally sit at a bartop and order wine instead of choking down the contents of an ancient bottle of Ithbank you snatched from a cellar in some decrepit village.

That was at least the most tolerable thing you experienced outside the gates, as far as roughing it in the wilds goes.

And it might be your newfound appreciation for city life, of finding an escape from what’s become your current normal—sneaking past goblin-infested camps, waterlogged boots, and haystacks for beds (an upgrade from sleeping on the cold, hard dirt, you suppose)—that lures the Drow twins over to your party walking down from the top floor of the Sharess’ Caress.

“You must be curious after keeping such…” Nym glances over Astarion, Shadowheart, and Karlach, hovering behind you, threatening with blood stains on their clothes and out of place in an establishment full of nobles and wealthy ministers. “Interesting company.”

It’s safe to say you’re uninterested in the twins, but that doesn’t stop your curiosity from piquing when Nym demonstrates her talents with a peach she snatches from a fruit bowl off the nearest table. By the end of it—an obscene display that catches the eye of a few patrons walking by and sends your imagination reeling—you wonder how often she does this to gain clientele. If it’s always so…hands-on.

“So what do you think?” 

You don’t know what to think, oddly confused like that first time Astarion had to spell out for you that he wanted to have sex—you’re going to be so fun to break, pet—a girl who’s every bit the product and trappings of a sheltered fool. 

“Are you interested?”

The mutilated peach in Nym’s hand drips clear fruit juice down her wrist in thin rivulets, collecting at her elbow. You start to shake your head—

Astarion scoffs. “She already has her hands full without your sticky fingers and whatever the hells you’re doing to that innocent peach.” 

Nym’s mouth curls up into a coy smile before her gaze sweeps over to Astarion. “Her lover, I presume?”

“As in, I already tasted said peach while you’re still trying to get your mouth on it; well then, yes. Very much so.”

You slap his chest, your face somehow getting hotter. “Astarion!”

“Darling, we’re in a whorehouse. I assure you they’ve heard worse.”

Nym makes a wordless, amused sound. “Well, if you ever find yourself curious or—” she gives Astarion one last scrutinizing once over and looks at you again “—unsatisfied, you know where to find me and my brother.”

Before you can politely decline, Astarion chips in on your behalf, “Trust me, she’s not.”

He steers you toward the door—I’m never going to look at a silly piece of fruit the same after this—and you don’t miss how he sends the twins a withering stare right before he joins you on the street.

He’s in a perpetually strange mood for the rest of the day, quieter than usual and more sulky. 

You stare at the back of his head as he walks in front of you, bulky pack slung over his shoulder with the books and scrolls you bought earlier, deciding whether you should join him or leave him to his thoughts.

Karlach nudges your shoulder. “Trouble in paradise, soldier?”

“Not really.” You bite your lip. “Should there be?”

Her gaze follows yours to Astarion, and she hums in understanding.

“If you stare at his back any longer, you might burn a hole through it." Heat crawls up your neck, and you try to give her a shove when Astarion looks at both of you over his shoulder, but she doesn't move an inch and laughs instead. "He’s probably upset over finding another pebble in his boot again. Don’t sweat it.”

An unreasonable suggestion, for you know it’s more than another pebble.

He doesn’t say anything once you all reach camp, nor does he give you even the slightest acknowledgment when you walk by his tent on your way to bed or look up from his book—no hello, my sweet readily waiting on his tongue—when you slip a little note under his nose. 

It’s starting to give you the sneaking suspicion he’s upset with you—though you hardly have the faintest idea why.

You’re pulled awake by the quiet, careful shifting of your blanket as someone slips into your bedroll behind you. You stare blearily at the barn's wall, trying to blink away the disorienting feeling still clinging to you like dew on a humid summer day. 

It’s the first brush of sharp incisors against your throat that erases the last vestiges of sleep altogether.

Ah, so he read your note.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you whisper, aware enough to remember the other two people sleeping in the barn with you.

“Have I?”

“You know what I mean.” You tighten your grip on your blanket. “You’re upset, aren’t you?”

He kisses the tender spot below your ear. “I wouldn’t phrase it like that.”

“But you’re unhappy.”

Your breath hitches when his tongue flicks out to taste your skin. 

“Yes, I’m unhappy.”

“Was it because of what that drow said?”

“Hm, be more specific.”

“When she—with the peach.” You squirm a little, a mouse blessedly caught by the tail. “You know.”

His chuckle is soft, faintly mocking.

“Oh, darling. You think I’m jealous?” He runs a thumb over the fluttering pulse in your neck. “How cute.” 

And right before he applies the smallest amount of pressure—

“Well, you would be correct.”

When Astarion works at the laces of your pants, loosening them just enough to slip his hand underneath, you jump at the first cool brush of his fingers tracing across your heated skin. Your muscles jump, jump, jump under his touch, goosebumps prickling along your arms when his hand fits suddenly between your legs. Two soft pats that make you gasp.

“Drippy,” he murmurs. You don’t think your face can get any hotter.

Then he’s hooking two—fuck, three—fingers into you, splitting you open, curling up toward your belly; you can’t bite back the moan that breaks free.

“Hush, pet.”

Nipping at your neck, he scissors his fingers, smiling at your choked, stuttered gasp.

“Do you think I’d let anyone see how you fall apart with a few quick strokes of the fingers? How you sound? How you taste?” 

The questions are followed by his thumb pressing into the achy spot at the apex between your legs, and you don’t mention that he’s doing this with two other people sleeping soundly on the other side of the room. 

“This—” his fingers curl inside you, pressing until he finds soft flesh that makes your legs jerk. “This is all for me—mine—wouldn’t you agree?”

You nod slowly, hand clamped over your mouth to trap the sounds that keep escaping.

“Good, so we understand each other then.”

Your thighs tremble around his wrist. His fangs drag across the thin, breakable column throat, almost like a warning, catching at two identical scars that haven’t fully healed since you’ve let a feral, lost little vampire into your camp before he gives in and bites.

Digging in—messy—you imagine the dribble of red down his pale chin, how he sometimes leaves it there to savor later.

You’re limp and floating in a matter of seconds, your mind blissfully quiet for the first time in days.

“Remember that, darling, the next time someone starts giving you ideas.” After a moment, he whispers: "But I'm also happy you said no."

And he slips out of your bedroll without so much of a creak in the floorboards and out of the barn as if he was never there.

[too-deviant]

MDNI 🃏 — W/ PATRICK ZWEIG

when patrick zweig fucks, he fucks hard.

his mind clouds over almost the second you give him those eyes, slide a hand up his leg. his mouth is salivating before you can even suggest going up to your room, or say that it’ll be okay if you’re a few minutes late.

he doesn’t think about much else but you, and where his hands will go on you this time round. he’s a serial tit grabber, but sometimes he’ll pay extra close attention to the plush of your thighs — especially when they’re resting on either side of his face.

he isn’t afraid to bite. he’ll nip at your collarbones, your nipples, your legs. his hands will roam every inch of you before he can even think about going near where you want him the most — but when he finally does?

he is insatiable. always, even when it comes to tennis. he will stop at little. his determination is what makes you go back to him time and time again. even when you shouldn’t.

he’ll eat you out like a crazed lunatic — huffing and grunting into your pussy, hands squeezing your legs as they wrap tighter around him. he’ll pull back, rest his forehead on your lower stomach, and catch his breath before diving right back in. he will leave you a mess — panting and sweating — but he won’t take even a moment before he’s pulling his cock out.

and my god, is it big.

he gives you very little warning before bottoming himself out — he pays minimal attention to anything but your pleasure, only zoning in if he hears a mutter of your allocated safe word.

sometimes, on slower days, he’ll talk to you. from grunting sweet praises into your neck to asking you about your day while you’re spread open for him — it’s rare, but sometimes he just needs to hear your voice.

he peppers your cheeks with kisses, throws your legs over his shoulders, and pistons into you like a well oiled machine that won’t let up until it’s done it’s job.

and he does his job. every single time.

and then, after fucking you senseless, he’ll stroke your shaking legs and watch you come down with those lidded eyes of his that just make you want to jump his bones once more.

oh, he will see that look in your eyes, too. and then he’ll tut, give you that sick sick smirk of his, and say, “don’t be overzealous, baby. i’m not going anywhere.”

[kiwicopia]

🔞 MDNI | Kinktober: Knife Play 🔞

🎃 Slasher!Toji x Fem!Reader 🎃

TW: Non-con, obsessed serial killer, reader bound and gagged, slight choking, knife usage, use of a pet name (doll), mentions of stalking, insinuated kidnapping, age gap (Toji in his mid thirties, reader in early to mid twenties), creampie, sideways position.

tags: @stygianoir @uzxotic @shes-so-insane

You never believed in monsters. The stories your parents told you as a kid were nothing more than that. Stories. Lies that parents told children to keep them in line, and you knew that. It was why you never fell into the paranoia that swept over your city with the latest string of murders. Some crazed lunatic that snuck in through open windows and sliced the throats of their victims before leaving without a trace. Maybe you were asking for it when you decided to leave your window cracked one night, or perhaps you were just wanting to see if they would show. Either way, you knew one thing: you weren’t afraid of a monster. Or so you thought.

You didn’t have time to even comprehend what was happening through the daze of exhaustion. Having woken up once you felt large hands move along your body before they roughly turned you over. That was when the fear kicked in, but it was too late by then, as your wrists were bound together tightly behind your back by cable. You tried to scream, but it seemed as though the intruder was one step ahead and shoved your panties in your mouth, silencing you. 

“Can't have you screamin’, doll,” he drawled. His voice was deep, husky, and it sent a shiver down your spine as you lay in your own bed, completely at his mercy. “Been watchin’ ya for a while now. Pretty careless to leave your window open like that.” He paused, and you felt another shiver run down your spine as his blade slid carefully down your back. His body shifted as he straddled you and leaned his face down to your ear. “Unless it was an invitation,” he whispered. You tried to speak in response, yet your panties muffled the noise, and the man chuckled. “A girl like you ought to be careful. Didn’t your parents ever warn you?” Your eyes widened when his large hands shifted your body, turning you onto your side. “Gonna have a little fun with ya.” 

Once again, your sounds were muffled as you tried to speak in protest, to which the intruder blatantly ignored. He was too focused on putting you in position. With you on your side and one leg on the bed while the other was placed over his shoulder, he unzipped his pants and quickly yanked them down. Your room was too dark to see him—not that you could from that angle—but you made a small whining noise when you felt his cockhead slide up against your folds. You should have been ashamed of how wet you had gotten, with your slick coating his tip enough for him to slide in with ease. 

Your muscles tensed the further he pushed his cock in, only to pull halfway out before his hips snapped forward harshly. He got himself into a steady rhythm, and aside from your pathetic and muffled moans, the only sounds heard within your room were his grunts and the slapping of his balls against your ass. “Fuck,” he groaned. He relished in the feeling of your cunt as it constantly sucked his dick back inside of you, and his pace soon slowed as he shifted around again. His chest pressed against your back as he lay behind you, and one hand tightened around your ankle, keeping your leg up while his other settled around your neck. The slight pressure applied had you moaning against the panties in your mouth, all while he bullied your pretty cunt with his cock. 

The position he had you in, the angle, it felt so good. Too good. Honestly, you really should have been ashamed, but the pleasure that flooded your body from the way he fucked into you clouded your judgement. His breath tickled your ear as he buried his face into your neck. “So good,” he mumbled. “All for me. All for me.” The hand around your throat squeezed a little once more before moving to your mouth, pulling out the panties that kept your sounds muffled. “Talk to me,” he said. “Tell me how good ‘m fuckin’ ya.” 

“So good,” you whined. The man groaned at your response and shoved his dick deeper into your cunny. A moan fell from your lips as your head leaned back from the pleasure it gave you. “More,” you panted. “Harder.” His chuckle sent a shiver down your spine as he complied with your request. The pace at which his cock bullied your hole increased, causing your eyes to roll back at the feeling. It was like your pussy was made for him, and only him, but it was starting to feel like too much. You could already feel the way he twitched inside of you, yet he showed no signs of stopping or even pulling out. “Wait, stop—.” 

“Shut up,” he growled. Your chest tightened at his tone, but you remained quiet, save for your wanton moaning that echoed off your walls. “Been waitin’ for this.” You didn’t know what he meant by that, and he knew it. You were oblivious to his stalking, and while you were supposed to be another victim, something about you changed his mind. He didn’t know what it was, but all he knew was that he had you now, and there wasn’t a damn thing in this world that would get in the way of that. 

His hand moved back to your throat and tightened around it while the other hand squeezed your ankle, and his thrusts increased further as his cock practically hammered into your sopping hole. The lewd squelching only fueled his desire to fuck you even more, and that was exactly what he did—until he was driven over the edge. The man’s hips sputtered as he bucked into you one last time, spilling into you and painting your gummy walls with his cum. His hand around your throat tightened to the point where you struggled to breathe a bit, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t bring forth an orgasm. 

Your release came while your pussy milked him, and he groaned into your ear at the way your walls squeezed him, almost as if coaxing him to cum again. Your mind was in such a daze from the moment that you didn’t feel him slide out of you, however, you did feel him pull your nightgown up over your hips. A sharp hiss slipped out between clenched teeth as the tip of his blade dug into your skin, drawing blood, yet it only lasted for a few minutes. Once finished, the man sat back and admired his work before looking at you. 

“I’d kill ya, but I want to keep ya,” he said. His body moved away from you as he slipped his pants back on and gave you one last glance. “I’ll come back for ya later.” All you did in response was nod and pant hard before watching him approach you again. There was a small cutting noise, and you realized that you could now move your hands. When your eyes looked back at him, he was already slipping back out through your window, shutting it before vanishing into the night. 

You laid in your bed for a while longer, resting until you got enough strength to head into your bathroom. When you lifted your nightgown, you saw it. Jagged and still bleeding were two letters that seemed to be his initials. T.F. He marked you, yet you didn��t know why, and you would never know until he came back for you a week later.