#i didn't even feel a sting

[vaguely-concerned]

...the 'almond room' thing in the unwanted guest IS a reference to/play on words on amygdala, right? (amygdala comes from the greek word for almond!) I didn't read that wrong? it is stupid sexy Ianthe coyly inviting Palamedes into a different chamber of her brain, as it were?

(also the pieces of meat -- the feeding or kissing, it's hard to say which of it all -- being present right from the beginning... ianthe DOES know exactly what has happened to her, doesn't she. palamedes is just cutting his way through her layers of denial and repression all merciless and scalpel-like to get her to admit it. or, she knows subconsciously at least -- each person comes in and feeds her something that she's helpless to stop from becoming a part of her even in her coffin, with bloody kisses. oh baby love is feeding me bad meat and I have no choice but to swallow it down. like yeah I suspect that is how human contact can feel when your sense of self and boundaries developed to be a specific kind of Fucked Up lol. that shit could make a person dream of being a diamond in a glass of wine; perfect, inviolable, untouchable, eternally separate and safe. In the words of Andrea Gibson in Prism:

They say the womb is where we learn love is knowing the cord that feeds you could at any moment wrap around your neck

that is quite literally ianthe's first introduction to love -- her sister, a cord around her neck. Corona is Ianthe's other self, a second soul running around outside of her body, and she seems to consider herself as responsible for (and entitled to) the preservation of Corona's soul as her own. the way this mirrors that growing up, Ianthe had to be two necromancers in one body to let them stay together. (twins and ghosts all the way down I guess.) she's still just trying to do the same thing, I think, she's simply put on some bigger boots about it. the central problem of lyctorhood, self vs. connection/love, rears its head once again -- Ianthe existentially wants total self-contained self-sufficiency, perfect control, sovereign sway and masterdom over her soul... but she wants that at the same time as being in uninterrupted (uninterruptible!), eternal and indelible intimacy with her sister, whose soul also cannot be allowed to change. which, you know. freedom and love don't coexist the way you want them to, Ianthe, no matter how clever you are there won't be a way to get what you want. (especially not with a sister whose idea of what love is seems to go more towards being consumed, made one, by whatever violence necessary -- 'she could have taken me'.) man. Ianthe is a spectacular and ongoing piece of work, but sometimes it's hard to see how she could ever have turned out otherwise considering the conditions she was born and raised under haha.

the two-way street of the horror of digestion, whether you're the devourer or the devouree. part of you in me, part of me in you, whether either of us likes it or not we're both changed by this. bad news: you can't get out of interconnectedness by finding the cleverest loophole around it, ianthe. nice try, though)

[cerealbishh]

"You're pretty new at this whole relationship thing, huh?"

"... Yeah."

[sysig]

You’re so obvious, DAX (Patreon)

[magentagalaxies]

.

[fer3112]

The most annoying person you know (me) cried all day at work because dnp already cancelled 3 dates in mexico and they're not coming with their new tour (again)

[clairenatural]

losing online friends is usually so much less dramatic than losing irl friends but it still like. hurts

[maddy-ferguson]

i'm not gonna reblog the post but saying that the party was very nice for helping dustin carry and set up cerebro when they didn't believe he had a girlfriend is so funny because like. not believing that your friend got a girlfriend and going on and on about her not being real is already being mean😭

[elytrafemme]

i’m so in love. fuck, i’m so in love.

[windkonig]

when people say "ok but x bug has no benefit to nature" I bet they can't even name 5 facts about the bug they're shitting on. so how could they Possibly know what its function is in the environment and if it's "useless" or not

wasps being the perfect example, I still get people saying "oh bees are cute and pollinate :) yay. but WASPS ARE EVIL and they don't contribute ANYTHING!!!" and it's like buddy. wasps pollinate too. they also control spider populations. they do a lot of great valuable things. but even if they didn't, they're still worthy of being here. I see SO much hatred toward wasps and I wish people would try to learn a little more about them.

I'm mainly talking about paper wasps here because these are common ones we run into in daily life and most commonly deemed "aggressive". but wasps have body language. and if you learn to read this language and learn how to properly act around them, things will go a lot better for you! wasps can be curious creatures and they may come up to observe you, especially if you're wearing something brightly colored. this can be startling for sure, but my best advice is to just be still, DO NOT SWAT or wave your arms. try to just back away or sidestep so it loses interest and leaves. swatting is just gonna make them feel as if they are being attacked and increase your chances of being stung.

many stings happen due to unfortunate but accidental circumstances. unknowingly getting too close to a nest, stepping on a wasp on accident, one getting stuck in clothing, etc. I got stung once while gardening, went to pull a weed and the wasp was on it, so I grabbed her without knowing and she stung me because she was scared. this doesn't mean "oh wasps are AGGRESSIVE and EVIL" it means you stumbled into an unfortunate situation where the wasps felt threatened and defensive. instead of being like "FUCK all wasps" go forward trying to learn about common nesting areas, be wary of holes in the ground, wear gloves while gardening, and if you do have to be around a nest, try not to make a lot of noise. if the nest absolutely needs removed, call a professional.

[robinsnest2111]

oop the "scratch" I thought I got at work a couple days ago looks more like a deep flesh wound now that it's started to heal and doesn't bleed profusely anymore 😬

[sysig]

It always seems like such a good idea in the moment (Patreon)

The first four are in reference to a great idea I had of - since I’ve finished my lower-limit page number testing for making books; shorter fics take up less page space, and just increasing the font size isn’t as handsome! - simply making a mini book! All it would take would be to halve the pages again, right? Just cut them right down the middle! Easy peasy!

As I’m sure you can tell by the second, no. Not easy peasy. Difficult painful un-fun >:(

Obviously I still did it tho! What do you take me for, someone who could have the idea of an even tinier book and then not do something about it?? No It’s also the only one so far to have a paper bookmark rather than a ribbon!

All told it’s a bit smaller than your average manga (I love the monochrome covers on these under their dust jackets haha <3) - you can see even with effectively doubling up the pages by halving their size, it was still very small-spined!

A quick shot while it was still being made hehe ♪ It’s Out! Paired here - and the earlier one, just without its dust jacket haha - with my Zarla SC2 collection (ft. Family, Negotiations are Going...Well, and With No Obligation) - I absolutely kicked myself after the fact for not including Out as the run-up to everything, I was really trying to make a full collection in probably-chronological order! Out would’ve been a perfect start! And it only would’ve taken like four pages!!

Ah well, it was still quite a learning experience - I probably wouldn’t make another standalone of under 4k-ish just for formatting reasons but I did get some good ideas of how to do so if I wanted to! Although, my next project is going to be even more of a formatting nightmare........I’ll get there when I get there! Lol

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

[medicinemane]

If only there were a cranberry bog near me, I could probably go there and be like "listen... I actively like spiders... you should hire me", and then maybe I could get a nice job with the benefit of working collaboratively with spiders if I understand things correctly

[morose-melodies]

when you hit capitano, he let you.

you were angry, you were frustrated and he understood that very well.

your family was gone, your friends were gone and all of this carnage was caused by his sword.

when you hit him again, trying to shove him, he removed his helmet for you - hit him wherever you pleased, and he'd allow it.

he didn't feel sorry for your family, nor did he feel sorry for your friends - he didn't even feel sorry for taking you from your home. it was something he deemed a necessary evil.

you weren't happy where you were; maybe now that everyone you once knew was gone, you were trying to convince yourself that you cared for them, that you were closer to them than you truly were.

you scratched at him, leaving a long stinging mark on his cheek. his eyes had hearts in them as he looked down at you - you were perfect, you deserved nothing less than the best.

you grabbed a pillow from his bed and started beating him with it.

"you're so- ugh, you make me sick!"

you were getting frustrated with him. the captain felt for you, he just wanted you to be happy, "hit me harder if you must, stab me if it pleases you, rip out my hair, spit in my face for all I care."

"sh-shut up... what's wrong with you...?"

you sighed, your arms were sore and you were tired - you'd been crying and yelling at him for hours it seemed.

the captain raised a hand and reached for your face, wiping away a stray tear rolling down your cheek, "I love you... too much-"

you smacked his hand away, glaring at him.

he lowered his hand. "(y/n), I'd like for you to understand why-"

"stop talking! you're making everything worse. just shut up!" you cried over, covering your eyes and cried into your hands.

he wanted to hug you, comfort you, and ease the sadness you felt but he was well aware that that would make things worse.

so, he watched instead.

it was as if he was admiring you even in your weakest moment - he couldn't see you in a negative light, ever. he loved you, that last thing he wanted was for you to think otherwise.

but it seemed you already did.

he'd have to make it up to you, he reasoned.

[seat-safety-switch]

When we were kids, we didn't have access to cool power tools. Every summer, when the soapbox derby race was coming, we'd break into my neighbour's garage while he was at work. Then, we'd use his drill press, lathe, table saw, all the fun tools. Over the course of a week, a race car was produced, which is more than the workshop ever made during the rest of the year.

Sure, we could have asked him if we could have borrowed his tools, but no doubt he would want to be there to supervise. And then he'd want to help. We'd never get done while we were busy indulging the suburb-tinged fantasies of someone who didn't take wood shop and chose instead to idly worship at the altar of Television Presents: The Fantasy of Bob Vila in adulthood.

One year, Old Man Garrett got a security system. Probably this was because Ted (fucking Ted) didn't clean up the sawdust that one time like we asked him to. The old man must have seen the footprint, and realized that he did not wear size-seven Nikes. Child thieves, casing his precious table saw! Now, our humble breaking-and-entering had become significantly more difficult than "reach a coat hanger under the door and pull the emergency release."

With the help of some of the high-school kids who were taking electronics class, we managed to defeat the security system. We did so using an ancient Japanese technique known as "distract Old Man Garrett while he's setting it, and then cut the wires to the panel." I think it loses something in translation, but you get the gist of it. That year's car was especially sweet.

In adulthood, I got drunk and bragged to some work buddies about our little scam. They responded in abject horror, because I was still occupying the weird hump in the middle of a normal distribution of "acceptable crimes." It was terrifying to them to see one of their own, one of the suburbanites, speak openly about largely-harmless property crimes. What if we had been hurt, they shrieked. Around the water cooler, I would become a pariah, unless I could make amends.

I did hunt down Old Man Garrett after that, still feeling the sting of rejection. He was still on the property, and he still had a beautiful collection of immaculate cabinet-making tools in the garage. I rang his doorbell and, when he answered, I told him the whole story. He laughed.

"I knew it was you dumb shits from the beginning," he bragged. "Fucking Ted -"

"Fucking Ted," I echoed, unconsciously.

"Fucking Ted left his library book on building race cars behind on the workbench that first year. You didn't let him drive, did you?"

I shook my head. "We ran the car into him if the hockey-stick brakes ever failed."

We had a good laugh about the whole thing that evening, and I returned to work with my soul cleansed. It's just a pity Ted didn't know how bad he actually was at crime, before he tried to knock over that liquor store and all.

[slvttyplum]

the ass that you had on you was something serious, and everyone seemed to know that besides you. that was until suguru made it painfully obvious, and he had no shame about it whatsoever. slapping it every chance he got, resting his head on it, rubbing on it—he just couldn't resist; something about it just turned him on.

one thing that had him bending you over in a second was jeans.

the specific jeans that you wore made your ass look way more sculpted than it already was; he just couldn't take his eyes off of it. the more he stared, the more agitated he got each second. he wasn't buried deep inside of you, squeezing your ass cheeks as his tip pressed into your sweet spot.

as much as he loved looking at that beautiful face of yours, it was something he loved about watching the way your ass moved when he would thrust into you, watching your ass bounce back on him, or slapping your ass every two seconds until it was sore, moaning every time he did it, making him want to do it even more.

suguru couldn't deny the fact that he was an ass man. even if he tried, he loved boobs and all they had to offer as much as the next person, but you in particular changed his perspective when it came to ass and how fluid it could be, especially outside of sex.

his hand was never not placed on that big ass of yours; even in public, he couldn't keep his hand away; it was like there was a magnet attracting his hand and your ass, blaming you every time you would scold him while out in public to cool it.

of course he would cool it out to respect boundaries out in public, but once y'all were back in the house, all limits were off, fucking you until he couldn't anymore, pushing your head into the pillow as you moaned with every thrust.

your moans ringing through the walls, the more aggressive he got. once he had your flesh in his hands, he got greedy and wanted more, so he went from grabbing it to smacking it until your ass was sore and stinging.

instead of you drooling into the pillow and your vision going blurry, it was him instead, his head dizzy and drool sliding out the corner of his mouth. the longer he fucked you, the more delirious he got, with a bright smile on his face, still staring at your ass and making sure you didn't budge from the position you were in.

"fuck suguru, i… i cant." gritting his teeth at your whining, knowing that was a cop out because two hours on your stomach was light work for you, you just couldn't take his dick well in this position, but suguru wasn't having it.

"you can, and you will. okay?" a moan in response to his harsh words, yet they still turned you on, tightening around you as you finished right on his dick, moaning louder and louder the deeper he got inside of you. his dick glistening with your fluids all over, his eyes sliding from your ass and your pussy, and it was too good for him to stop.

slapping your ass even more, knowing that it turned you on just as much as it did his, and he didn't do a cute little smack to the ass during sex; he wanted it to hurt, wanted you to flinch while he stuffed you with dick, feeling how tight you could get.

you weren't innocent; you loved the fact that suguru loved your ass as much as he did. that round bundle of joy got you whatever you wanted whenever you needed it, and if that meant getting fucked into a pillow until you lost time, that's what was going to happen. his big hands rubbing over your ass was somewhat comforting, and you loved it, but a smack to the ass while he was deep inside of you was even better.

his cute moans whenever you squeezed around him were something you could listen to for days. the fucked-out look in his eye when he was finally done with a wet chin from his drool was so sexy it made you want to get back into position just for him to fuck you up again, to see his flushed face and blabber around about how sexy you were.

sometimes he was just so down bad that he would pull those tiny little shorts you loved to tease him with and pull them to the side and slide his thick dick inside of you as his big hand rubbed over your soft ass.

a soft "fuck" sliding past his lips whenever he did, bracing himself and preparing to fuck for a couple of hours or until the sun was rising.

suguru had restraint, but he had to take deep swallows whenever he saw you naked or even with jeans on, having to stop himself from pouncing on you.