#and it's been the most freeing experience of my life

[ghoulphile]

no use cryin' over spilled milk | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.8 k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, frottage, lactation kink, pregnant!reader, fingerfucking, praise kink, breast play, the ghoul calls reader pretty mama, he's a pervert who wants to lend a 'helping' hand ➥ summary | based off this ask; oops being an experiment from vault 4 where you may be the first rad resistant human pregnant with a possibly rad resistant baby, and you come across the ghoul who helps you get to a safe place but then he gets attached with you and the baby 🥺 (this is just me trying to insert a lactation kink somewhere i'm sorry) ➥ notes | uhhhh pls let me know if i missed anything, my brain is dribbling out my ears (its 3:44 am and i have work at 8 am rip) but the parasites persist. i'll do the tag list when i wake up ❤️ masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

Going topside wasn’t an easy decision.

In fact, bile bitter regret often lingers in the back of your throat - a lump that stifled the air in your lungs.

And while you might’ve been bioengineered to survive better under these harsh wasteland conditions, every time you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, you're catapulted headlong into paralyzing self doubt; alone and rudderless.

No one lives in the vaults - not truly.

Birdie (and the others) warned you of what awaited beyond those lead-lined walls. But you couldn’t abide spending the rest of your life trapped in a cage, albeit a gilded one.

Not anymore.

Oh no, you wanted to feel a real breeze instead of air pumped through the HVAC. Experience the sun baking warm into your skin like fresh bread instead of the artificial heat of the UV lamp used for mandatory light therapy sessions. Complain about the chafe of sand in your shoes and hear the crunch of dirt under foot instead of a hollow clunk of sterile metal.

To witness first hand all the sights, sounds, and smells this world offers. 

Only… you didn’t expect it to be this hard.

Nor did you expect to be pregnant when setting off into the great unknown on your own (a definite oversight on your part [you really shouldn’t have had one last hurrah before hitting the road]).

Through trial and error, motion sicknesses that swing into crippling nausea as manic energy - your first taste of true freedom! - dwindled into dragging fatigue, you found a happy medium. None of which would have been possible had it not been for the most unlikely of companions.

Ghouls; who knew, huh?

Sure, you’d heard of them from the rotating door of visitors that found themselves at Vault 4, but you’d never seen them. While you grew up surrounded by visible mutations, seeing the battlefield of his body was off putting; how a person could survive a patina of burns and patchwork slices without unraveling at the seams was beyond you.

And kind of frightening.

But he took it in stride, introducing himself as Ghoul. Refused to divulge anything else of substance no matter how much you poked and prodded.  His life pre-bomb was a complete mystery filled with plot holes and unanswered questions (which is exactly what he preferred).

You learned to be comfortable with his meandering conversations, and all the words he spoke that said much of nothing. And what you did glean, you did so through observation alone. 

He was alone - had been for a very long time.

He was very old - one of the last of his kind.

And he was, in his own way, very kind - at least by wasteland standards.

“The fuck you doin’?”

Pausing, you stop mid push and hover awkwardly on your hands and knees. The vault suit pulls taut across your hips, pinching behind your knees uncomfortably. Your toes squeak in your shoes, socks thoroughly soaked through with sweat.

It’s been unseasonably hot (or it’s the hormones). Whatever the case, this is the first semi-decent lodging you’ve camped in for weeks, and you’re not about to miss an opportunity to freshen up.

And maybe find a way to soothe the building ache in your tits - flesh swollen tender and nipples rubbed raw.

“I’m just, uh, gonna,” you motion towards the back of the house, the askew bathroom door clinging to its hinges by a corner, “y’know, f-freshen up. See if they don’t still have some water.”

The Ghoul scans you up and down, gimlet-eyed. “S’that so?”

You huff, your knees starting to ache.

Being five months pregnant throws your center of gravity for a loop, the atmosphere weighing extra heavy on your bones. It doesn’t help that the baby’s decided sitting directly on your bladder with a foot tucked under your ribs is the best position.

“Didn’t know I needed permission to take a piss now,” you snipe. Usually, you try to reign in the hormones but the day’s been too long and you’re in pain. Anyone would be a little snippy (right?). “Can I do that on my own or do you need to watch, Mr. Ghoul?”

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his gaze glinting from beneath the rim of his hat as he tips his head. “Better watch it, sweetheart,” he says. “Otherwise, I might have’ta wash your mouth out with soap.”

Pushing yourself up with a grunt, you determinedly ignore the raspy chuckle that follows as you waddle towards the bathroom. Cussing him out all the while in your mind.

While he’s been ‘nicer’ today - stopping for extra breaks, even packing it in several hours earlier than usual because he noticed how weary you looked - he’s still an asshole.

The toilet’s gone, the tub’s tipped sideways, the linoleum’s cracked, and closing the door sounds like a pack of howling mole rats but its functional. When you catch your reflection in the spider web fractures of the mirror, you grimace.

The wastes have certainly left their mark on you. Gone is the prim-and-proper vault dweller, replaced by a gremlin of a woman Overseer Benjamin would surely scowl at.

A true ‘surfie’ now.

“Great,” you groan, scrubbing a palm over your face. “Just - ugh!”

You’re caked in grime, a steak of dirt smeared across the bridge of your nose. Mysterious stains darken the blue fabric, the golden stripes of your suit an off-putting grey.

Your hair clumps in greasy chunks. You’re glossy with sweat, and while your curves have plumped up over the last few months, you didn’t realize just how much until now.

The vault suit’s always been tight - now it clings and creases in unflattering places. And there’s nothing you can do about it, unless the Ghoul is willing to spare a sewing kit.

You could let the waist out some…

What the hell am I gonna do if he won’t? There’s no way I’ll fit if this baby gets any bigger. Shit, I look like a fucking sausage. Your hand cradles the side of your stomach, stroking over the bump with a frown. This is all your fault, you little parasite.

“You better be so fucking cute - the cutest goddamn baby in the wasteland. Or I will riot.”

Tugging down the zipper over your breasts is heaven, the swollen flesh spilling out of the parting fabric, no longer compressed. It’s almost enough to make you cry as you struggle to tug the lycra off your shoulders, the fabric putting up a fight.

After some awkward contortions that pull uncomfortably at the muscles of your shoulder blades, you manage to wrangle yourself free.

The temptation to burn the stupid goddamn suit is almost too much to resist, but then you’d really be traipsing around the wasteland in the nude and just… no.

Peeling off your undershirt is another story altogether, the soft cotton feeling like sandpaper as it scrapes over sensitive skin. Your nerves tingle with awareness, bolts of pain shooting through your nipples with every shift.

Quick like a bandaid, you think, taking a steadying inhale.

It’s a miracle you don’t scream.

Tears cling to your lashes, your nose running as you toss the shirt to the side with one hand and cradle your chest with the other. Sure, you’ve had tenderness with your period but this kind of pain? A whole new level.

You almost don’t know what to do with yourself.

How is this fair - aren’t you suffering enough?

Sniffling, you peer down at your tits and gingerly cup them with your palms. Swollen hard and warm to the touch; a heavy weight crushing your ribs.

Do I really have to milk myself like a fucking brahmin? Another bolt of lightning crackles through your nerve endings as if in response. Fine. God, this is embarrassing.

Only any attempt at touching your nipples produces pure agony, shards of glass biting into delicate skin.

No matter how slight your touch, no matter how gentle your fingers - it doesn’t work. Leaves you more distraught and in pain than when you began as inflamed nerve endings crackle and burn.

And when the tears truly start, the dam breaks. It’s not long before they drip down your cheeks in fat rivulets, your breath hitching from you in pathetic little exhales.

Your fist shoves against your mouth in an attempt to smother the sounds, teeth sinking into your knuckle until you leave sore indents.

But you should know better, not only does the Ghoul have heightened senses (he’s taunted you constantly with this fact like the asshole he is), but he’s uncannily perceptive in a very annoying way.

You don’t hear the squeal of the door, but you do sense his presence behind you; the rad warm burn of his body as he stops a scant few inches away. You feel his breath against the nape of your neck, the barest brush of his chest as he inhales.

“You ready ta stop bein’ stubborn?” he hums. “I thought I told you not ta wait s’long.”

Your voice warbles from you, “G’way.” You curl into yourself, shoulders hunching as you hang your head. “Don’t need your help.”

The Ghoul snorts. “Cuz you doin’ so well on your own, huh?”

“I resent that.” You shoot him a weak glare, the animosity ruined by the crumble of your lips. “I really, really do.”

You hate always having to rely on him, so desperate to prove that you can take care of yourself only to have every effort to do so thrown back in your face.

Shit, you hate how right Birdie was, “Honey, you won’t last five minutes on your own. Please stay here with us where it’s safe.”

“Well, maybe so. But pickers can’t be choosers, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a languid roll of the shoulders. “Ain’t no use cryin’ over spilled milk. C’mon, the longer you wait, the worse it’s gon be.”

“I just - you don’t understand…”

He reaches around you to set his hat on the sink, the dwindling light of twilight creeping in through the holes in the roof to bathe him in its bloody light.

He looks like a grotesque demon that clawed its way from the depths of hell. It gets your pulse thudding, electric awareness an unwelcome visitor as it roosts behind your navel.

“I understand plenty. Now, let me.”

Not an offer - not really.

More akin to a demand, one wrapped up pretty like a gift. You’ve been here many times before, and while the Ghoul proffers his help under the guise of not wanting to hear your bitching and moaning, the hungry gleam of his eyes as they rake over your face say otherwise.

If it’s one thing you’ve learned in your travels with him, it’s this: he is entirely self-serving. He offers because he wants to suck on a set of pretty tits. If you happen to cream your panties while he does, well, he counts it as a win-win.

Quid pro quo.

And what you hate more than how utterly correct everyone is about life on the surface, is how needy he makes you. How desperate and dumb and dripping he’s got you by the end, drunk off the flick of his tongue and the rasp of his touch.

Because it’s so hard to be strong in the face of pain when the solution is right there; open-palmed.

“...Fine, just don’t - don’t leave marks this time, okay?”

A slow waking smile creaks across his face, and he says, “I ain’t makin’ any promises, sweetheart.”

Your stomach swoops, and your thighs clench.

Shit.

Scarred lips work over tender flesh as a talented tongue flicks and swirls over the bumps of your areola, the tip digging into your nipple and drawing the swollen nub into a hot mouth. You whimper, arms tossed over the Ghoul’s broad shoulders.

Cold ceramic digs into the base of your spine, your body crowded back against the sink as he plasters himself to your front. Cuts off any escape routes and refuses to let you squirm away from the overwhelming sensations as he suckles.

Heavy palms grope at the plush curves of your hips, fingertips digging into the fat.

His lips pop off your nipple with a sticky smack. “Always taste s’fucking good,” he groans against your sternum. “Got the prettiest set a tits in the wasteland.”

“Hnn! N-Not so hard.”

While you say that, you don’t mean it - not really. Your pussy throbs in time with your heartbeat, clit swollen and aching for friction. Your inner thighs are a mess of slick, your vault suit caught around your knees.

He never touches you below the waist directly (some boundaries still exist between you two), but at this point in your pregnancy, you’re so sensitive a gentle breeze could set you off.

“Heh, ain’t you know lyin’s a sin?” he says.

A scarred cheek drags over the swell of your breast, the rasp of rad burn alighting your nerves. Bolts of desire ricochet down your spine, fizzle like Nuka Cola on your tongue. He presses an open mouth kiss to your nipple, his tongue flicking out to massage the tender bud.

At the taste of your skin, his cock twitches where its grinding against your thigh. You feel him through his ragged pinstripe slacks, his shaft a thick line of heat.

It’s probably the hormones (you refuse to admit its anything else) but just the thought of touching him, of sinking down onto his erection - feeling how fucking good he’d stretch you out and fill you up - makes you dizzy.

You pant, your voice distinctly whiny when you say, “Please, d-do something. It still hurts.”

His grin reminds you of the mongrels roaming the wastelands. “Sh,” he hushes you. “I got you, sweetheart.”

The tips of his fingers brush along the side of your swollen stomach. Your heart flips in your chest, your breath catching as he follows the contours of your body, reaching down to brush over the skin of your mound. This is new, he’s never done this before. It’s simultaneously as arousing as it is terrifying.

“Can smell how wet you are for me,” he says, tone low and gruff. “You gonna be a good girl for me, ain’t you?”

“I-”

Then his mouth is slurping at your tit, his teeth biting down on your nipple gently as those strong fingers dip between your thighs. Blunt nails scratch through your pubic hair, a calloused pad swirling circles around your slippery clit. Your hips jump, your head rolling back between your shoulders as a loud moan rips itself from your throat.

You arch back so far your belly presses against the Ghoul’s, your tits smothering his face.

You think, half deliriously, it’s a good thing he doesn’t have a nose otherwise you might’ve broken it.

“Shit, that’s so - oh, fuck, please, please, please!’

Your legs widen to make room for his hand as yours fly up to grab his biceps, nails biting into the rough leather of his duster.

His tongue flutters across your areola. “C’mon, pretty mama, give it ta me.”

“Oh.” Sparks dance behind your eyes, your knees shaking as the Ghoul strokes over your folds, tests your wetness and the give of your cunt as he plays with your entrance. “Right there,” you gasp. “I’m gonna…”

He grunts, tugging on your nipple with his teeth.

The sharp bite of pain shoots through you, deepens the kindling warmth behind your navel that steadily builds and builds and builds. You feel on the very edge, nerves plucked like the keys of a piano.

So close you can taste it.

Then a tingling starts in the tips of your fingers.

Burns its way up your arms to settle in the weight of your chest, pins and needles pricking across the skin of your tits, lancing through the swollen buds of your nipples.

You tremble, the relief bringing tears to your eyes as tears the heaviness releases in a warm flood, your milk letting down to flow into the Ghoul’s eagerly pulling mouth.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he moans, chasing after the taste by nuzzling into your chest. His cock ruts against you. “Took you’re sweet damn time, didn’t you, darlin’?”

Your head spins, hazy thoughts scattering like confetti.

Endorphins simmer through your veins as you float on a cloud of cotton softness. Reality seems worlds away, your vision blurry as you focus on the points of contact between your bodies. The stretch of his fingers plunging into your pussy to stroke over the front wall.

Mouth slack, your hands creep up the Ghoul’s arms to trace over the sides of his neck, watch the dance of your fingers over his skin. “It feels s’good,” you slur. “Please don’t stop - wanna cum just like this.”

“Heh, wouldn’t dream of it.”

[whump-obsessed-less-stressed]

Umm... hi! ?

I've been lurking around here for almost a year aand I've finally built up the courage to make my own blog?? Idek? oh wow never expected that tbh I'm surprised of myself

Name: My name is Em, Ems or Wrath, pick your poison lol

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: Umm old enough but also young??

About me: Ummm- I'm in multiple fandoms (like A TON), average whump enjoyer (maybe a bit more than that but shh), I like writing (duh), I do fencing?? (Whumpy sport??? I mean I get to stab people with swords-), I've got adhd and way too much free time! Chronically online. Book & fanfic addict

Whump: I've always enjoyed whump since I was a little kid but I was always veery much embarassed because I thought it was wrong ("Oh yes let's play doctor but you're actually an evil psycho who wants to do experiments on me" "..........." "WHAT THE-"). Then I found that there's people like me in here! Love me some whumper friends.

TROPES/WHUMPY STUFF I ENJOY YAY:

Lady whump

Used as a bait

Pet whump

Bound/gagged

Lab rat whump

Magic whump

RESTRAINTS!!!!

Betrayal whump

ENVIRONMENTAL WHUMP

MAGIC!! Eg. Supernatural whumpees/whumpers etc.

Probably a ton more but those are the most important ones?

Blogs: So, my fav blogs are @painsandconfusion @whumpninja @whumblr @whump-is-love-whump-is-life @whumpshaped @whumperofworlds @jump-in-the-whump @jordanstrophe aand many other ones though--

Might make a post about my whumpees/whumpers/caretakers and WIPS later?

[usertransducks]

DCRC Week 1 or "Ducks Tries Not To Spoil His Second Favorite Comic Series"

I've been ready to write the post for PKNA #0: EVRONIANS since day 1 but I was trying to do it without spoiling future issues. I'll be summarizing the issue while adding my own thoughts!

Just a heads up that my blog won't be spoiler-free because I reblog a lot of fan art!

We're immediately introduced to our main hero and villains for the series on the cover; the long-time favorite Paperinik, known as "The Duck Avenger" in English, and the titular Evronians. It has that 90s dark Sci-Fi feel that tells the reader that this series will be somewhat different from the usual PK stories they've read before.

The issue starts out with the invasion of an, at this time, unnamed planet by an Evronian fleet.

Although most of the people we see end up getting cool-flamed, at the end of the segment we see there is at least one survivor. They'll be important later (and I can't wait!!!!!!)

After that, we transition to Duckburg! Its time to learn about the city's favorite sitcom, Anxieties, and finally meet up with PK. Unfortunately, the actress Duckie Starry ends up being attacked by cool-flames, who are a bit stronger than PK's usual foes.

After an Evronian flies off with the cool-flames, we encounter the guy whose figure is super expensive on eBay and he orders the absorption of PK's emotions.

(why are you so expensive *cries*)

The next morning, Donald's tv time is interrupted by a call from Scrooge, who has bought Ducklair Tower and wants Donald to work there. We learn the Everett Ducklair is missing and Scrooge bought all his stuff at an auction.

Donald is put in charge of custodial of all 150 floors of the tower, but because Donald is just like me fr he ends up counting all the floors and realizing there are 151 floors instead.

We see inside the offices of Channel 00, where we have to, unfortunately, meet Angus Fangus in exchange for meeting the platonic love of my life, Lyla Lay. She is one of my 3 favorite female characters in PKNA and I regularly want to fight characters who mistreat her in a Family Dollar parking lot. Expect a lot of gushing about her when we get to later issues 👍

Angus goes to harass Donald because he's a known friend of PK (established in the older PK comics) and we get to meet Camera 9!!!! I love him and there is a fic shipping him with Donald that I have in my Mark For Later list to read tonight. Camera 9 tells Donald that the actor Brad van Beck is missing, although Angus claims that he never speaks.

That night PK breaks into the 151st floor and we finally meet the whole reason why I try to get people to read PKNA:

UNO!!!!!!!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳

Uno is the AI running Ducklair Tower who was built by his dad, Everett Ducklair, so he could talk to someone just as smart as him. Uno tells PK about how everything Everett builds ends up being a weapon of mass destruction, even when he doesn't intend to do so. He then runs away from all his problems to a monastery to "better himself."

Anyways now they're friends!!! YIPPEE!!!

More people who work on Anxieties get cool-flamed, PK gets chased by Evronians, and unfortunately PK has his first of many near-death experiences involving the Duckburg subways. This one is not even close to the worst one so I don't have to add anything to Donald's trauma counter yet.

Donald and Uno scheme to convince Scrooge to rent out the terrace of Ducklair Tower so the Anxieties cast can have their party there. The Evronians crash the party and try to cool-flame Lyla, but the beam just bounces off of her! (I wonder why that is? :3) PK also shows up to crash the party.

This is when we see PK's main weapon for this series, the X-Transformer Shield, in action! It's resistant to the Everonians' weapons, it has a beam that can suspend the target's subjective time, and it allows for PK to have a tiny Uno with him at all times! Uno calls him "partner" :)

The shield has a ton of other features that we'll see later but for now PK throws it as a boomerang to save Duckie Starry once again. Because of this, PK gets his first of many kisses (sadly he doesn't get one from Uno or give him one either)

Angus Fangus makes everyone reading the comic want to fight him by going on air and accusing PK and the Evronians of working together. Paperinik Will Remember That

Breaking the formula to say that I love that Uno stops PK from going on the roof and tells him to sleep so that he doesn't stay up even longer. Currently most of this care and "mommy-ing" is because PK is his first friend, but later that care becomes more and more genuine because he learns to, quote, "have affection" for him. That's why a lot of us ship them <3

I adore most of the characters in PKNA and even the ones I hate I love how they fit into the story. Hope y'all enjoyed this issue and want to read more!!!!!!!

Also someone help me find cheap PKNA figures I cry every time I see the Uno orb listed because even when the price is affordable it'll have $30+ shipping even though all the other stuff I've ordered from Italy has had significantly cheaper shipping.

[vapolis]

listen , , , i never played the old demo but in my heart of hearts i know i would still be obsessed w D nonetheless bc of how u have written them presently. their genuine kindness is sooo unnerving to my merc bc as you've established, the merc isn't really someone who's been treated with kindness and tenderness (QWQ) but . my merc is a simp and alas D's allure and kindness is irresistible. they have had to be at another person's heel and is treated like a feral mutt (which. isn't entirely unwarranted .) but being treated as an equal and as another human being makes them sooooo wistful it makes themself want to bite themself as a way of scolding themselves aihowdfjsdf.

also the nsfw snippet you posted of dante a while back was DIABOLICAL and has been living in my mind rent free. i hope dante haunts u in the most sexy manner possible . because what the actual FUCK compelled u to write that it's been living in my mind rent free and it makes me insane fr.

(also. ik people love jax. and he is sexy . but how could u want him when d and royal are right there. offering kindness and tenderness and show-stopping sex appeal. [tho its a bit unfortunate on royal's part bc as the last chap has shown us he is like a housecat trying to step into the alley in my heart shdfoHSDFO].)

i love ur IF so much u dont understand how much its haunted me (orla is also mother of the year and could order me around like the dog i am but that's neither here or there).

i'm rambling but i really do think d offers a sense of warmth none of the other RO's do (in the sense that the merc is viewed as an equal who is Struggling and in the trenches rather than. the merc. orla's dog. a ticking time bomb.) which again! is valid but also :(((( they are baby. to me . they have done nothing wrong ever <3 i just love d so much bc of the way u convey their genuine kindness and desire to connect with the merc it makes me froth at the mouth and sob fr i hope ur days are kind 2 u and that u experience nothing but contentment in life

I love long rambly asks about D like u get it!! they're nice and kind and (at least seem to) genuinely care like no other right now. I'm very excited to get more into that dynamic bc it's different. It's lighter and they're on equal footing and scenes w D always take a turn even for me lmao also so real abt that nsfw scene... both dante's and delilah's have a different kind of chokehold on me personally.

royal is probably most like D in that sense that they give kindness eaily even if last chapter ended badly w them.

anyways tysm for all that!! this ask will be rent free for a little while as I chip away at the chapter and I'm very happy you enjoy the IF (and D) as much as you do <33

[sluttylittlenewsboy]

It is genuinely so terrifying to realize that you truly and wholly want to spend the rest of your life with someone

[fictionadventurer]

There's something about reading really great writing that's so relaxing. You can just sit back and let the words wash over you, knowing that you can trust the writer.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Just curious what the average level of personal investment in these sorts of things is. Like, how much do people usually get into silly stuff like this their friends ask of them? etc. etc. Which I know, only surveying a small sample on a very specific website means I'm not getting an exact average idea lol, but.. curious nonetheless .. Maybe reblog for bigger sample size but also this is not very serious at all/not worth a call to action gbhjbhjb

[isfjmel-phleg]

🫥

*it cut off my last tags which were: I don't know what I can do about this but in the meantime it's a struggle

[scoliosisgoblin]

bunch of sketches before I sleep, cleaned up some of them, but uhhhhhhh

Minnie belongs to @plumbus-central :) love those fellas

[kingslionheart]

thinking A LOT about the look on aaron's face as soon as he sees jack for the first time since his confession.

at first it seemed as if he felt safe, like he could be himself around her because she knew about his queerness and she, a priest, told him that it was fine, that he did nothing that the god he so desperately believes in would ever punish him for, then there's the moment when those first instances of safety end and are replaced by a sort of darkness that can be translated in the reminder of the guilt he lived in for most of his life, a guilt that can't be pushed down so easily and always comes back at full force.

THAT is the religious trauma experience, the terrible feeling of not being able to quiet down the words, the lies, you have heard your whole life, and that even if you know, even if a religious authority you value told you that it is not something that god would punish you for, you still have the belief you grew up with and that needs years and years to be destroyed, if it ever even cease to exist in the first place.

[transbee]

having did and being online in any capacity is so fucking exhausting because you literally can't go anywhere without seeing the most heinous takes about your existence or validity it's like. can we be normal. can we please be normal and Chill for like two seconds.

[thedeadthree]

OCS AS ART

tagged by the darlings @chuckhansen, @adelaidedrubman, @leviiackrman, @aartyom, and @dihardys to take this uquiz for the loves! ty so much dears!

(x)

TAGGING: @griffin-wood, @risingsh0t, @leviiackrman, @queennymeria, @chuckhansen, @blackreaches, @florbelles, @jackiesarch, @swordcoasts, @noonfaerie, @rosebarsoap, @themysteriouslou, @yennas, @stormveils, @confidentandgood, @arklay, @shellibisshe, @jacobseed, @multiverse-of-themind, @loriane-elmuerto, @roofgeese and you!

MUSIC

you are a breath of fresh air. you are soft and free. you disappear as quickly as you appear, and everyone wishes you had stayed around longer than you did. your voice is what makes people fall in love. everything you say is in harmonies and codes, and only the most experienced listeners can fully understand you. your presence is always enjoyed but you aren’t always given the praise you deserve; people will let you stay in the background. all you want is for someone to really listen to you.

PAINTINGS

everything you do is a work of art. you are beautiful without even trying, simply lounging around looks like you’re posing and waiting for someone to sketch you. you come off as light and easy but you are often misunderstood. people don’t tend to see you for who you really are, and focus too much on how effortlessly you appear to navigate the world. there's some kind of darkness behind your eyes that only some can see under all the layers of paint.

FILMS

you are wild and there’s no way for your essence to be captured in a frozen format. you are a character and the only way to describe you is to capture you in motion. you are electric. people are naturally drawn to you because you exude confidence. everything you do, you seem to know what your next step is. you are the muse to many, even if you don't know it, but deep down you do. people tend to fall in love with the idea of which i'm sure can be exhausting.

NOVELS

you fall in love easily and hard, and you are the image that pops into someone’s brain when they think of a love interest. you are a romantic and find yourself falling in love a hundred times a day because your imagination is wild and certainly knows how to get the best of you. you are soft and delicate and need to be handled with care, because a heartbreak would break you into a million pieces. you don’t want much else except to be loved and to love. you want to live out your wildest dreams, and the person that loves you can't help but let their imagination run wild with you.

POETRY

you choose your words carefully and your words will be heard. you’re smart as hell. you know it and so does everyone else and you carry yourself with a sort of confidence. you’re a bit of an artist yourself, even if unintentional. you can find beauty in mundanity but you also know when to be a realist. people fall in love with you because you are a confident mystery and they're dying to find out more. you fear that this attraction that people have to you is based purely in curiosity and nothing else.

[saturniade]

need to get obsessed with something and draw it constantly and post badly cropped 10% of it AT MOST.

[mejomonster]

My adult advice is if you do pursue something you're passionate in for a career (or really if you go about getting any job) that being treated like shit is not fair to you. Working over 40 hours for your dream job a week, working 60 hour crunch hours for months for your dream job, working with no health insurance for years, your dream job paying you a wage too low to live where you need to in order to do the job so you're financially getting worse, your job not hiring enough people because you care about the work too much to let it fail so they just overwork you and have you do 2-3 peoples jobs, your dream job does not protect you from work hazards and you feel you'll lose your job if you bring it up? You don't deserve any of that shit. You deserve better. Whether your job is some boring thing you don't care about, or your absolute favorite thing in the world that you care about deeply and find to be the meaning of your life, you deserve to be treated fairly. You deserve to not be overworked to the point of suicidal or sick, you deserve to be able to go to the doctor and take your kids to the doctor and know if your kid gets a long term illness you can get long term treatment, you deserve to not have the entire success of a company fall on your shoulders to do multiple jobs if you weren't the supervisor who decided Not to adequately hire, you deserve to be able to go pee when you need to, you deserve to have adequate protection from dangers to your life. Period. No matter what job. If you're being treated like shit, you don't deserve it. It's not a price you should be expected to endure, not even for your dream job. It's a fucked up situation that real people caused by deciding to treat their employees badly.

[thedreadvampy]

haha I triggered myself

[featherymainffins]

One thing about me is I don't understand why people say that you should never try even one cigarette because they all got addicted after one. I had the worst fucking nightmare experience with my first cigarette you couldn't pay me to smoke one of these again.