#bit of a vent piece

[the-lights-are-loud]

Unimportant Person

Unimportant words from unimportant people

Same problems, different days

Listening

I thought listening works

I thought that talking it out helped

But all it's done

is make you think you can dump everything on me

And make me hate talking to you

Unimportant thoughts from unimportant people

Every day, the same problems

I don't want to be disinterested

I want to be there for you

But you make me feel so powerless

And I'll never be able to save you

Unimportant person

Unimportant view

Unimportant words that I can say to you

Nothing matters

What's the point?

Because I'm an unimportant person

With unimportant words

With an unimportant will

and

unable

to

save

you.

Masterlist

[theredqueenandthebloodwyrm]

Bout to start gnawing and biting motherfuckers on here, istg. Fuck you third party voters, fuck you "I didn't vote because that would taint me", fuck you holier-than-thou moral purity fuckers. Fuck anyone who voted for Trump.

[patchworkcuddlebug]

A Parasite

Norae was always... resistant to having a doll. Her covenmates tell her about theirs like they're little slave-things, always wandering around your house and doing things you should be doing on your own. It's creepy, and (she would never say this out loud) enabling laziness.

But as her power grows, so does her manor. She begins noticing hallways stretching out longer than they once did, with protrusions shaped like doorknobs emerging from the walls. There's already a set of stairs leading uselessly into the ceiling, no doubt where the second story will begin to grow.

The effort she put into keeping things in order used to be paltry for a witch as powerful as her, but she's starting to get annoyed by the distractions. She is growing tired of pruning new furniture like weeds.

She knows nothing of clockwork, and she never developed her skills in magical dollcraft for obvious reasons. But she will sometimes catch sight of a stray, trying to find purpose in picking the wild berries just beyond her yard. She wonders if she'll be helpful enough, before quietly correcting herself and wondering if it will be helpful enough.

She told her coven how she was thinking about leaving a sort of trap for it, a cup of tea under a cardboard box held up with a stick, only half serious. Regardless, they told her that dolls are much more trusting and docile than she was assuming, and that she simply needed to approach and talk to it.

She waited with a book, just on the edges of her property. The wide brim of her hat helped block the glare of the sun as she'd occasionally look off through the trees. Soon, it came walking past her unceremoniously, seeming as if it's trying to ignore her. It's walking to the bush. There's already a few ripe berries piled neatly in its hand.

It was made with porcelain, with a more tattered version of the maid dress they all seem to wear, walking with just as much rigidity and poise. But this is the first doll she's seen with a wind-up key. It slowly turned just a few degrees for every moment that passed. She could see a little rope tied to one of the sides, presumably so that one could wind it on her own.

"Excuse me? ...Doll?" Just as she starts speaking, it perks up, looking ready to leap into action. "Y... yes, Miss?" Its voice is timid, but eager.

"Would you like to, uh..." She hesitates for a moment, feeling ridiculous. This is the first time she's had to say something like this out loud. "Belong to me? I have tea."

It gasps. "Yes! Oh, yes, thank you Miss!" She runs up to the witch as if to give her a hug, only to skitter to a last-second stop just in front of her and give a polite bow, with proper curtsy.

"Right. Um, follow me, then." She closes her book and begins walking back to her door, her movements awkward as the doll followed close behind. She can't stop looking back at it, at its bizarrely serene face and excited steps. "So, do you have a name?"

"This one's old witch called it Lullaby, Miss!" It seems so happy to say.

"That's... still your name then, I think."

"Yay! Thank you Miss!"

. . . . .

Colloquially, the word "doll" is often used to describe any construct that obeys a witch, with considerable variation thereupon. Perhaps the most infamous among these variants in classification is the combat doll. These ones can often be identified by their more metallic exterior, such that they can easily be confused for androids at first glance, but there also exists combat dolls that

"Excuse this one, Miss?" the thing knocks at the door to the witch's study. It lingers in the doorway, not wanting to intrude further.

Norae tries to stifle a sigh of annoyance as she turns away from her book. "Yes, Lullaby?" She just noticed that her its hair just a little dishevelled from working, but it's not nearly as matted and gnarled as it was earlier today. She's glad it looks so much more... healthy.

"This one has finished sweeping the first floor, Miss!" The doll smiled, clearly proud of herself. The witch is caught in her own head for only a moment, ruminating on owning someone... something so close to a human. "What would you like it to do next?"

"You..." it takes her a moment to stifle her shock. She's read enough to know that such a task is to be expected from dolls, but it still seemed to work so hard so fast. "Then you've completed your chores. Treat yourself to some tea." She tells it matter-of-factly and turns back to her book, trying to match the professionalism of her literature.

"But, Miss!" The doll says. Norae turns back, and sees the doll has a very human, very concerned look. "This one has barely worked today! Would you like it to scrub the floors as well? Or organize your bookshelf? It can cook for you, Miss!"

"Hey, calm down, it's alright." The doll's owner tries to sound reassuring, as one would to a friend. "I don't know how your last witch did it, but I don't want to overwork you. Do you like to read? I have a library."

The doll tried to swallow its apprehensive look. "This one will read for you, Miss." It nods dutifully and runs along.

That... went well, she thinks. She understands that dolls are... eager, to a certain degree, but she's sincere about not wanting to exhaust the poor girl thing. She also thinks about her own autonomy, and how listless she'd feel if left without her own chores.

. . . . .

Norae lets out a bored sigh as she watched the vegetables sizzle in their pan. She tries to stir them around, spreading them evenly in the oil, but it's more to entertain herself than to properly cook.

She hears Lullaby quickly, yet still with a polite reservation, hurry up the stairs.

"Miss!" It calls out, drowning out its footsteps before it turns the corner. As it emerges into the kitchen, it looks... mortified. "It's so sorry, let this one, good dolls should-"

"Lullaby, it's okay!" She holds the frying pan up, higher than the doll can reach. "You don't have to do everything for me just because you're a doll."

"But, Miss, this one wants to!" It looks desperate and pleading. "Please, Miss, you've been so nice, and this-"

"Hey, calm down, there's no need for that." Norae tries to sound reassuring. She sets the pan down and turns to give Lullaby her full attention, kneeling to match her its eye level and placing a hand on its shoulder. "I know you want to help, but I enjoy being able to take care of myself, too. You already do plenty, and you should be proud of that."

The doll trembles, only as much as its docility will allow. "Yes Miss, Thank you Miss." After a quick bow, it gets out of Miss's way, leaving her to return to her monotonous stove-watching.

Lullaby takes a seat on Miss's couch. eyes forward and hands on its lap. It's so comfortable, the soft cushioning much more enveloping that the stumps it was used to sitting on. It tries to find a place to rest its eyes. On Miss's roaring fire, magically permeating a tender warmth through the room? On the door to the maid's quarters, where Miss had cleaned it and told it all it had to know? On Miss's beautiful and intricate grandfather clock, which it is letting collect a thin layer of dust?

It shouldn't cry. Miss is being nice, after all.

. . . . .

The doll shakes itself from a stupor. It wasn't still; there was no comfort in its emptiness, just effortful restraint fading into a half-present miasma.

Norae gestures for it to face away, gently guiding its shoulders to face where she sat on the couch. "Lean forward, please."

"It's okay, Miss." The doll sounded groggy, words tumbling heavily out of its mouth. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

The witch leaned to the side, showing the sympathetic look she had on her face. "Why wouldn't I wind you up? It's no trouble at all, and... I can't just let you pass out."

Lullaby slowly, heavily, shook its head. It wanted to be polite, to word itself delicately and reserve itself, but its clockwork was moving too slowly to stop it before it spoke. "No, please. It's a bother. This one doesn't do enough, it's not worth it."

Miss places a hand on its shoulder. "Oh, Lullaby, no, that's not true at all. You do just as much as you need to."

"It's not enough." The doll rested its elbows on its knees, leaning forward and cupping its face in its hands. "Miss is so nice, and this one just... takes it all in without giving enough back. It feels so useless, and pathetic, and... i-it just wants to be helpful." Its voice falters just at the end, hitching into a repressed sob.

Norae felt a pang in her heart that deepened with every word. Of course, she's been such an idiot. She feels like a bum when she doesn't keep herself busy, how would a being purpose-made to be helpful feel? It finally dawns on her, what the extent of a doll's inhumanity means.

"I'm so sorry, I... had no idea you felt that way." There's a sincere sorrow in her voice, the doll hearing Miss's confidence drop for the first time. "I never meant to hurt you, I just didn't want to be too hard on you."

She placed a hand on her doll's back, careful to leave room for its key to turn. "From now on, you get to do whatever you like. Cooking, cleaning, anything. I might still make you take some breaks so I can do something myself, but I'll never leave you with nothing to do."

Lullaby slowly, hopefully, lifts its head to look at Miss. "This one doesn't want to make you do anything you don't want, Miss, it can-"

"Lullaby, if you do everything you can to never feel like this again, you'll make me the happiest witch in the world." She put on a reassuring smile.

Norae didn't have time to see the grin widening on her doll's face before it latched on for a hug. All it could say was thank you as its tears left wet marks on the witch's dress.

"I'm just happy that you're happy." Miss hugged back, making the doll feel more loved than it could remember. "Now let's get you wound up, you've got some dishes to do."

[romatito]

coloring experiments with some displeased españas 🍅 i always love digging beneath his optimism to find the negativity underneath thats Just as passionate -- its one of the most fascinating things about him to me

closeups under the cut

[saint-hymn]

WIP - tommy, i-

part of the zombie au

[hollandsbeybladeburstblog]

Control

Old habits die hard...

[animeyanderelover]

I love Anime, don’t get me wrong but sometimes I absolutely hate the fans. I am literally unable to read comment sections anymore because someone always, always has to end up hating on other stuff, especially if the post or video revolves around more than one show. It’s not a fucking competition, dude! I don’t care who from the Big 3 is the best! My favorite from them is Bleach and if it’s yours that’s cool and if it isn’t that’s fine too! As long as you’re respectful about it we’re good but why do fans online constantly have to be at each other’s throats😭

Also, I think that powerscaling and shipping are two of the worst aspects that can befall a fandom. I guess it makes sense if you at least keep it within the same show but why the fuck do you have to pair up characters from different verses and then ask who the strongest is?? Why are we comparing school girls with magical powers from Sailor Moon against pirates from One Piece?? What even is the meaning?? Sometimes it legitimately sounds to me like people try to argue that their show is better than other ones because they have the strongest characters. I don’t give a shit!! All that matters to me is which show I like more!!

Don’t even get me started on shipping. Seriously, is your life so sad and meaningless that you cling desperately to a fictional couple and literally send death threats to the mangaka just because you want them to end up being together?? I don’t give a rat’s ass if Ichigo should have ended up with Rukia instead of Orihime, if Dazai and Chuuya have a thing for each other or if Suguru and Satoru were just best friends or secretly in love with each other. If the genre doesn’t specifically state that it’s romance, harem, reverse harem, Yuri or Yaoi the main focus shouldn’t even be on who might end up with whom.

I don’t mind if you ship as long as you are normal about it! Why is it so hard to do that?? Why do you have to present me with abominations like this??

This is apparently a list of favorite ships in Japan from Jjk and I wish that I could unsee this!!!

[galacticsabc]

Let him curse my name On these blood stained pages of misery

[thefingerblaster]

You are a love demon, or parasite, or leech or what have you. The name isn't important. What is important is this party you're at.

You came here to find love since you heard that places like this are where People find it for themselves.

It was something you didn't feel, not unless someone else was projecting onto you. In which case you mimicked the performance, fed into the idea they loved you, because you didn't have any yourself.

Did you enjoy it? If someone asked then you would say yes. Sometimes. You could certainly say you enjoyed having love given to you. Handed over freely by someone who decided you were cute-

"Hey, yer looking a little spaced out there." Right, a Person was talking to you. All at once you re-engaged your surroundings. There was a Person talking to you. She was tall and domineering, or maybe you were short and diminutive.

This Person had approached you because you looked "lost" and "anxious" standing alone in a corner of the room where you could observe the People at this party. And- wait you were talking to someone.

You lift your gaze to meet hers. You have to upturn your head to be properly facing her. You know that's supposed to be important for getting love.

She's a making a face you can't parse.

"Sorry, I'm not really used to talking to People." That was true enough. You had said something like that enough times that maybe it was true. It was honest.

"You don' seem like the sort ta come ta places like this." Her green eyes roam over you, unsubtlety lingering on your bare thighs below the black and gold patterned skirt you wore, seemingly not noting the black band logo t-shirt. You decided to not mention that.

She was still talking to you.

"Why don't we go out ta get some air, it's pretty hot and stuff what with everyone dancing around and bein' so close." She wanted to be alone with you, which was a promising start. You leap at this opportunity.

You nod mutely. You avert your eyes from hers once it starts upsetting you. "Yeah. Sounds good."

She turns to face a back door and strides toward it with utter confidence, you soon trailing behind her. You notice her lightly muscled arms and strong shoulders brandished by her tank top.

Her short dirty blonde hair with black tips. Her typical blue jeans and brown sweater tied around her waist.

Your internals writhe with thoughts of what it might be like to be touched by her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I wasn't really expecting ta find someone as cute as you at that party-" Carla, she said her name was, told you as she drove her truck. "-house parties aren't really my thing. Too much noise and not always a wellspring of particularly exciting girls." She was volunteering quite a bit of enlightening information to you.

You told her your name was Amy when she asked. It was an acceptable name that you managed to piece together how to spell. She said it suited you.

"That's not ta say you're not exciting, you're downright adorable." A part of you was taking a liking to being called that.

You also were quickly taking a liking to riding in trucks, the smooth steady locomotion was easy to just relax into while the sights blurred past you. It occurred to you that maybe you ought to say something nice about her. You heard that works.

"Thank you." You ponder for precious seconds of silence until the first thing you think pours from your mouth. "You're adorable, also."

You hear her snort at that then make a sound you believe is a laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Here we are, Princess Amy." Carla proclaimed as s brought the truck to a stop before a multi tier building, an apartment complex you think it was called. "Well, not quite there yet. I'm on the third floor, then we will have arrived."

You were already dismounting the steel beast once she turned off the engine that made the pleasing thrumming and rumbling.

She stops in front of the door, looking at you like she's expecting something. You stare uncomprehending at her, your internals writhe anxiously while trying to conceive what she might be expecting.

You nearly jump when she asks. "You're not gonna put your arm in mine?" She presents her arm to illustrate the question.

"Oh." You reply. You loop your arms around her presented one hurriedly. Even through her leather jacket you can feel the firm muscles underneath.

"You don't have ta if you don' wanna."

"No. It's ok. I like it." You press your cheek on her shoulder while looking slightly to the left of her eyes. The display seems to have satisfied Carla as she then lead you by interlocked arms inside and up the complex like you were a princess and she the handsome prince.

You hope she doesn't realize how hungrily you're holding her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Now it won't too luxurious or grand, but it is a suitable enough lair for us tonight." She winked at you before unlocking the door, (you don't remember what that gesture means) the lock clicked loudly as it slid out of place.

"That's fine." You just wanted to be inside.

The grey painted door creaked open to reveal an unassuming lair but it didn't lack suitable decoration or furnishings. A black couch sat in front of a fairly wide TV which sat atop a carved wood dresser.

Carla herded you toward the couch which you demurely sat yourself on (after removing your shoes, you remembered this time) You couldn't help but notice yourself reflected in the black screen. Your reflection stares back at you, your wide doe eyes don't express much, neither does your face. Has your been blank, expressionless this entire time? You don't know.

She takes the cushion next to you. pinning you between herself and the end of the couch.

The gravity well she made by sitting pulled you even closer to her, so much so that you head rested on her shoulder. Her body radiated power as you surrendered to her arm wrapping around your narrow and small shoulders.

The weight of her muscled arm resting on you is reassuring. Your hands unwound and rewound themselves as she held your chin. It pulls your focus onto her. Even her fingers held force that excited you so much your internals began to wiggle from under your epidermis. Is this love? You want her love, you want her inside you.

Slowly, she brushed your long, curly, dark hair away from your face. "I'm gonna kiss you now, princess." She whispers in her husky voice that makes your outermost layer melt.

Her hand is holding the back of your head. The fingers coil the strands of hair around themselves. She pulls you closer.

Once her lips meet yours her hand wanders down and under the hem of your shirt. Your skin bubbles as her hand slides up your belly, taking your shirt up with it.

Cloying tendrils emerge to pull her further. You want to tear your clothes off. Your hands come completely undone winding around her waist, you press on her abs and back, they're so firm. You press and press and press-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She recoils from you in a panic. Her eyes scan you frantically, you don't wan her fear. You are afraid. You slink away in panic, you don't want her to see you. She knows you lied she knows you lied she kn-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are huddled in a corner, cowering, hoping she isn't angry. You really don't like when People are angry, its so harsh and bitter. It hurts so badly.

You want to tell her to go away. You want to hug her. You want to cry. You want love.

"So... Can you tell me what you are?" She sits next to you and asks in a voice that carries genuine question.

You peek over your knees. She's seated next to you, looking out at the living room, you still can't read her face. Seeing her sit makes you want to do the same.

"Y-es." You stammer out an answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fully naked, you crawl toward her, drinking in the attention she gives you. Your bare skin brushing against itself sent warm ripples through the epidermis.

Your eyes roam over her muscled body. Her abs, her arms, her thighs. Seeing her seeing you makes you want to show everything to her. You want to touch every inch of her.

You want her eyes to always be on your body, you want her focus always on you. You want to open yourself to her. To let her touch your most delicate and hidden parts.

"How did I go so long without you." She posits the question to the void as you rub yourself up her form. Your skin parts while she remains sturdy like the shore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All of you is coiled around her powerful arms and legs. She looms over you on hands and knees, dominant by virtue of her position. Splayed out on her bed you submit to her entirely. You've both stopped using your eyes, only aware of each other by touch, and sound, and smell.

Your chest lay open for her. Having your inner flesh teased by her tongue has you making some very inhuman noises. Your heart pulses through both of you whenever she bites or licks at it. She does it so tenderly, like it might break if not handled like fragile cargo.

The edges of your chest want to close on her, to pull her inside. Both of you are animals in heat.

It's exciting to be so vulnerable. To leave yourself open for her.

Her love is creamy and rich, filling you to the brim. It's smoother than the sheets underneath you, more pungent than her sweat. You love it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You both lay in an undignified heap, tangled in each other's limbs, mutually trapped by the tiredness and need. You are barely conscious. You let yourself be pliant as she places you atop herself. You are too contented to move, save for the reflex to coil around her torso, fondling the muscles of her back and belly.

"Goodnight, sweet princess." She whispers in your ear. "I love you." You reply by nuzzling her collar bone and squeezing.

You believe she loves you. Since you love her with all your body.

[naivety]

mothers are true pioneers of inventing new ways to betray a person

[jittyjames]

so kinda want to talk about something that happened in the past few days and an ongoing issue within the ham community atm. i know y'all have seen all of the stuff going around, people hiding behind anonymity to tear each other down, name dropping accounts to get them harassed etc.. the blog was fun at first, and i even enjoyed putting in harmless opinions on women's representation and aaron burr being my favorite character, but it quickly devolved into something concerning. but hey! you can't censor people by deleting or ignoring posts on a confession blog right? that would defeat the purpose. so of course all of this discord will be allowed.

except the moderator had no problem taking down my anonymous post that called out the undermining of harmful slurs being used by the community.

i blurred the person's name i was referring to because although it was all over the confessions blog and they have no problem with airing this minor's name after she's already gotten death threats, i don't want to spread it outside of there for people not involved. so here's the following conversation that took place.

(context for anyone who's had the great fortune of not running into this blog: someone had said a homophobic slur in a derogatory way and there was a question if they could reclaim it or not.) (rebuttal is also not the right word, but my mind was racin and that's what we got. i meant response.)

at first, i thought there was a misunderstanding. that someone had asked them to take something down and they mistook my post for it since they made a post saying they did in fact take down a post by someone's request. but i had a feeling it was something more. clearly, the moderator values someone who doesn't want people speaking out about an issue of homophobia being down played's opinion over an actual member of the lgbtq+ community. it's 2024 and we're still having to have the conversation about if slurs are bad or not, and it's frankly exhausting.

i might have adjusted my original post a bit more in the actual tumblr inbox, but this was the gist of what it said bc i always write down what i want to say first outside of the app (social anxiety says hi 🤪). as you can see it lines up with the conversation at hand— the conversation that was allowed and was still up, i might add— and i was polite about everything— unlike the actual hate mongering on the account. i really don't know where this attitude came from or why my specific post about queerness was targeted out of so many, but as you can see, they did so clear as day. to my knowledge, no other post has been taken down despite there being multiple continued conversations that are vague enough to not specifically be about fandom (like the morality of long distance incest, arguing over which hamilton artist they don't like, and people complaining about the drama going on across the blog.) those were allowed to be up, and i believe they should be if those are the conversations that people want to have about the fandom space. so why the detestation in these responses? it's not even veiled disdain. you would think i was the one bullying random minors just because i didn't like their art style or the one sending death threats. when a marginalized person expresses concern over something happening under your watch, why is the first line of action to be hateful and flippant while making excuses that don't even make sense and referring to rules that aren't even followed. despite all of this, it's my opinion it didn't even break said rules. the conversation at hand was about slur usage in the fandom. why did the posts claiming people were basically dumb for finding an issue with it stay, and mine get deleted?

why has the biggest crime on that blog—by the moderator's standards, the post so horrible they had to step in and delete and tell the person to leave the page—a gentle reminder that some people find the use of homophobic slurs a disrespectful practice when the word is in the wrong mouth. even if someone disagreed with my post, which is their right, why was it erased completely?

but that blog was taken down. and we thought it was over. but strangely enough last night, my anon box was filled with so many hate comments i had to turn off anon, and i have no plans of turning them back on. and it appears the blog was remade with rules but only one specific rule.

now here’s the issue. whore can’t really be compared to homophobic slurs or racial slurs due to the way it’s evolved in culture. and let’s say whore is a slur. let’s go with that. just because you listen to music or consume content that has people reclaiming slurs, it does not give you the right to reclaim them and say them for yourself. that is ignorance. you can't silence a community by saying they can't take issue over SLURS with this excuse used over and over again when it's not even an appropriate once. something that will always stand is people should not be saying slurs they can't reclaim.

you all can keep playing around with that blog if you want. just remember while you're arguing and cursing each other over fictional queer ships, actual queer issues are being censored by the person hosting y'all for no apparent reason other than some unnamed person asking for it's removal and the moderator's apparent disdain for queer people asking people not to use harmful slurs. which makes no sense to anyone if you think about it for more than two seconds.

i'm just a blip in this fandom, and there's so many of you i haven't gotten the fortune of talking to, but you need to sit down and ask why you guys are doing this to yourselves in the first place. why are you continuously feeding in to a bullying platform when you know how it's effecting people? when you know the moderator's intentions have been made clear in just want hatred bred throughout the fandom? why are we so dead set on being mean to each other? maybe you think i'm trying to stir up trouble or be self-important by butting my nose into people's business, and that's your right to think that. but this account has split the fandom in two and made it's fun diminish for everyone involved. you can say that every fandom is like this, but i've been in the fandom since the beginning and active on this account for almost three years and i've never seen anything like this. if you want to see change and for the fandom to go back to normal, stop torturing yourselves and calling it entertainment. the drama was silly and fun in the beginning, but now with specific attacks on minors and disparaging an entire community by telling us to take our "queer concern" elsewhere and saying we can't speak out against people using slurs, it's gotten worrying.

obviously, i'm not going to tell anyone what to do or fault them if they continue to play the intoxicating game of ganging up on someone because they don't know who you are and you know you won't face any repercussions. but just realize it could be you or a close friend being endlessly harassed and silenced. i used to think there was no place in this community for things like this, but there's always something that weasels it's way in.

it's basic and you've heard it from every single adult in your life, but think before you post. think about what the intentions are. think about why you find all of this fun. think about why this person behaves the way they do.

[spiderman2-99]

Here it is.

December 16th, 2099.

The day the leader of the Spider Society has been dreading ever since it popped up on his calendar. A looming spectre over his work. As inevitable and ever-present as mortality itself.

His day off.

No, seriously, he hates it. Especially now that he’s been given more of them in the wake of… 1610. (God, is it really delegated to a footnote now?)

Being aimless for a whole 24 hours, nothing to distract himself with— especially now that LYLA’s blocked any sort of paperwork that could come in— is legitimately close to a personal hell.

… okay, he’s being melodramatic.

Still. An itch thrums beneath Miguel’s skin to do- something. Anything. It’s not the productive kind— though he’s deep-cleaned his apartment twice over by 17:28 precisely. Nor is it the creative kind, or else the mere thought of having to sit down with his own hyperactive mind and force the spirals into some kind of direction wouldn’t leave him already weary before he starts.

No.

It’s a full-body urge to escape his own skin and mind; an understimulation that could only be rivaled by a bear in a concrete cage.

(Maybe that’s what he is.)

Downright potent when combined with lingering guilt that clings to him like dust on old furniture. The kind that only comes with living a life of constantly washing filth off his hands. Filth that’ll never come off.

There’s ways of dealing with it, of course; as much as sticking a band-aid on a hemorrhage is “dealing with it”. But he doesn’t quite have enough gumption to portal himself into the only gym that could support his strength— God knows what kind of ribbing he’d get— nor does the weather support those long, winding runs he’d take until he’d felt on the verge of passing out.

Times like this, Miguel almost wishes he were just Nueva York’s vigilante again. But no, he’s moved the stakes higher, and with them go his priorities.

… and of course, there’s liquid ways of dealing with it too.

Liquid ways that he’s been trying to cut back on lately. Got rid of the bottle and shot glasses hidden beneath his office desk and everything.

But here? In his apartment that he spends so little time at that it never really reflects his life choices anymore?

…

No.

No, no no no, no, absolutely not, you spineless imbecile.

It’s been, what, a week? And he’s already-

But what would just a little bit hurt? To take off the edge? The constant feeling of unease and too much, too loud, all at once? No.

Miguel made a plan, and he’s sticking with it, for shock’s sake. The hell kind of a man is he, folding so quickly just because he can’t escape his own stupid, ever-abusive mind? Besides. There’s… other things he could…

Probably….

Find to do…

Somewhere…

…

..

.

Al diablo con eso. He doesn’t deserve that.

[darkness-nova]

"TILL THE DAY I DIE"

[samhaven]

🍡 SWEET TOOTH 🍡

[phagodyke]

7hrs into my work day lets play a fun game of how much overtime will they make me do 🥰

[ghostzzy]

it was fun to sit and talk with my cousin who has extensively studied world religions and is a practicing buddhist and just take the piss out of new age spirituality together for like an hour