#self paras

[dancer-subclarington]

Self Para: What Was I Thinking

(Submissive Independent Study bts part 1)

“Ugh this is so annoying.” Kyla looked from her phone to her laptop, where she had pulled up her new class schedule. “I change my mind,” she announced to the laptop. “I don’t want to do a submissive independent study. Sign me up for some aftercare class instead.” But the screen remained unchanged. “I just haaad to try to be mature,” she nearly lectured herself. “‘I should take some time to reflect,’ I thought to myself. ‘I should deal with my issues,’ I decided. What a dumbass.”

In selecting classes since her arrival, she’d taken most everything she was interested in. She’d even taken some classes she wasn’t that interested in, because she knew her future Dom would probably like those things. This time around, she thought she should try to get around some problems she knew she had, even though she’d been able to more or less avoid them for this long. She was very good at avoiding unpleasant things. Life was too short for ugliness.

But between her father, her mother, and her ex, she had some issues. Things to unlearn. Things to figure out. Like a definitive list of her kinks. What she actually liked versus what other people liked. Which was why she was laying on her bed now, looking at a list of kinks on her phone that she’d found online. And it was fine at first. Feet: not her thing. Clitoral stimulation: definitely her thing. But then it got more in-depth, and she realized what she’d secretly already suspected, which was that she didn’t know.

Did she like or dislike impact play? Well she liked little slaps on the ass sometimes, did that actually count though? She certainly wasn’t the kind of person who would probably enjoy the pain from being dipped into lava. But could she be into a crop or something? Maybe? What about a paddle? The cute little ones, sure. But an actual wooden or metal paddle? Maybe not. Or maybe yes.

And elevator sex. How the hell does one know if they’re into elevator sex? She’d done a couple things in an elevator before and it had been thrilling, but was that because of the elevator or was it because she and the guy were sneaking around?

Also up for discussion? Knives. Kyla loved knives. She liked to collect them, and she liked to throw them. But would she like them in a submissive or sexual kind of way? The glint of a knife against skin would be pretty. Would a little blood be pretty too? Or gross? How painful would it be? Could she be into it? Great, now she was back to wondering about pain.

“Screw this,” she groaned. She’d just go clean her toys. That would be sufficient work for now.

[maya-hadler]

Greetings From The Past || Self Para

“My mom’s here.” 

“What?” Jonas replies back in shock, whipping his head from side to side so he can try to catch a glance of Emilia Lang. 

It’s the night of her graduation. Not her undergrad degree, which she secured three years ago nearly to the day, but her grad degree. She’s been in school now on and off for over ten years, and it’s about damn time. She’s fucking earned this. This celebration her friends and Jonas have thrown at Hotline is well, well deserved and long overdue. Through the ups and downs, and of course with the help of her partner Jonas and friends, she made it through. 

Even after her father’s passing, and the toll grief took on her, Maya still managed to pick herself up, and move forward. Cut to now, nearly four years later, and she’s better off. So then why, oh, why the hell, has she just seen her mother in the crowd of Hotline, staring back at her? And with a look that’s so intense, it causes her heart to slow its pace? 

There are many, many questions that arise in Maya’s mind when she first sets eyes on her mother standing still in the weaving crowd. Seriously? Her attendance in general, is laughable, at best. Almost an insult to not only Maya, but her father. For years and years they struggled without her to manage medical expenses and the toll cancer took on her father’s body; and on top of Maya’s schooling, the bills, and debt that came with that. It nearly wrecked both of them mentally, physically, financially…it definitely contributed to the slow deterioration of her father’s health just before he passed away. Even now years later, Maya’s dealing with the consequences of said debt. But still, even with those expenses racking up, Maya manages to continue on and complete her undergraduate and graduate degree in architecture in under nearly four and a half years. 

It was a lot of fucking work, and a lot of sleepless nights. A lot of accidentally falling asleep at her desk, and Jonas coming home from work needing to put her to bed. A lot of forgetting to eat, needing Jonas to remind her by quite literally stuffing a bowl of soup in her face. Not that he minded, of course he says he enjoys taking care of her, but Maya never likes to feel like a burden. And then of course, a lot of rants about the current state of architecture that her partner never quite grasps, but bless his heart, he tries his best. He listens at least, and nods at all the right times. But that’s four and a half years of love and support, right there. Jonas saw Maya through her father’s death. Through his funeral, the ceremony, and the years of grief that follow.

Not once has her mother called to check in, not in all this time. Did she show up when dad passed away? Yes, briefly. Maya saw her standing in the back of the room, sunglasses covering her eyes, when she gave a eulogy at her fathers funeral shortly following his death. Emilia left not too long after without a goodbye. Predictable. In fact, she packed up and left when Maya was ten, so as far as Maya’s concerned, she’s a nonissue. A nonexistent one. 

So yeah, the first question that arises in Maya’s mind is why? 

Why are you here? 

What the actual fuck, do you think you’re doing? 

Who do you think you are? 

Once anger passes through her like a tidal wave hitting a rock, she manages to turn away and grab hold of something, the nearest thing. That thing, just so happens to be her partner of almost four years, Jonas. 

“My mom’s here.” 

“What?” He looks around a bit frantic-like, eyes scanning the crowd. Jonas is highly aware of the relationship, or lack thereof. 

“Where?”

“There,” Maya nods in her mother’s direction, trying not to draw attention to herself. She shifts into Jonas and his personal space, easily ducking to hide in his chest. Even with her slight height, Maya fits perfectly under her partner; so her head bumps into his chin. 

His arm slides along her waist, pulling her in closer while the other twists through strands of loose hair from her messy updo. “Hey, look at me, Maya. You don’t have to say anything to her, okay? Not if you don’t want to. You don’t owe her anything.” 

Maya blinks, her face blankly staring back at him for a moment while she contemplates. “You’re right, I don’t…” 

How does she go about this situation? Talk to her mom, or ignore her? Or option C…kick her out, cause a scene. She’d rather not have to go with option C. Looking past the crowd, and her friends, Maya looks at her mother. Their eyes meet. Fuck. She’s staring right at her. Maya looks away and instead chooses to focus on various members of her little Grid Gang. They dwindled over the years because of life, in general, getting the better of them. But a few remain in Boston; or close by. 

Their friends are scattered about; some dancing, others ordering drinks and/or drinking them, and they’re waiting for Javier’s wife, Zara, to go on stage and perform. Over the years, the infamous singer, musician, and part-time DJ grew somewhat of a following in Boston. A lot of people came to see Zara perform, and she’d invited them to have Maya’s graduation party the night of her set at Hotline to see her in action. Seeing how crowded the place is, Maya’s finally getting to see firsthand what all the hype is about. 

She’s seen Zara perform a handful of times before; she and Javier are quite close, which means Zara and Maya talk as well. They get along well enough, though they’re definitely not, and probably won’t be, as close as she and Javier are. The rest of the group consists of Riley, Bailey, June, Sal, and Sebastian, who are all off, scattered around Hotline. 

Maya smiles as she watches them simply exist, still trying to ignore her mother’s eyes wearing a hole into the side of her head. Hell, if she’s gonna be so intense about it, why not come over and have a conversation, then? Why all the intense staring from afar? What will that accomplish? 

Maya’s eye roll. “I’m trying to be the bigger person here, but she's really pissing me off. Like, I just don’t…why the hell did she even come here? Did she seriously follow us from the ceremony to here? I’m- I can’t be bothered with it. Seriously,” Maya finally gets out, hands in the air with her head shaking back and forth. 

The answer is no. No to all of it. If she can avoid her mother, she would much rather just go ahead and do that. Right now, though…she’s making it nearly impossible to ignore her. She’s standing near the exit, her back close to a nearby wall, clutching at her handbag. From where Maya stands, Emilia almost looks a little…desperate. Distraught, and uneasy. There’s something Maya sees in her eyes that makes her heart summersault. Emilia parts her lips slightly as if she’s got something to say sitting just at the tip of her tongue, threatening to spill over. It’s not like Maya could hear her from where she’s standing, feet away, anyway. Over the music, and patrons talking. 

They stare at each other over the music, which is somehow much quieter than their eyes. She can feel Jonas’ gaze on her, worried. He leans forward to press his lips gently against her cheek, skin grazing skin, raising heat. Jonas lingers there for a moment, pressing endless small kisses into her skin. 

“I can tell her to leave,” he offers gently, still eyeing her. “This is your day. You worked really hard for this.” 

“I did,” Maya agrees, nodding as she looks up at him. A soft smile presses against her lips as she leans up to capture them with hers. “And it can still be a celebration, I think,” she murmurs when they separate, letting her eyes remain closed for a moment longer. 

“I just need to go talk to her. Get it over with; break the seal, or whatever.” 

“You sure? You want me to come with you?” 

“No, no…or maybe stay a ways back just in case…” Maya bites down on her lower lip, suddenly a little more nervous than she had been moments ago. 

Shit. What the hell is she going to say to her? What the hell is her mother going to say to her? Well…‘hi,’ is a good start, she supposes. Giving Jonas’ hand a small squeeze, she takes a deep breath and starts out towards her mother, passing by a couple people she knows in the process. A cordial smile here, a wave there, even a small pat on the back, and hand hold of, ‘congratulations on graduating,’ came from a few. All the while, Emilia Lang stands still as a statue, frozen in place when her daughter finally approaches.  

A chill runs down Maya’s spine and she contemplates walking past her mother out the door. No, hold steady. You’ve got this, Maya. You’ve got this, she assures herself, taking a deep breath in and releasing it with her words. 

“Hi Emilia. Did you see the ceremony?”

“H-Hi, Maya. How…yes, yes I saw. You look lovely, dear. Beautiful. And I’m- I’m really proud of you. You’ve done so well for yourself, I mean…a masters degree in architecture.” 

“Yeah, it’s uh…it’s certainly been a journey,” Maya agrees, her hand tightening on the glass of red wine she’s holding. It takes everything in her to hold back her comments about her mother leaving them almost 20 years ago. 

Another deep breath in and out. 

“I know it hasn’t been easy, Maya,” she begins, and Maya snorts. That’s putting it lightly…looking around, she becomes highly aware of the space they're in and having the conversation they're having in it…doesn’t add up. Maya gently takes her mother’s hand and begins to lead her outside Hotline. 

“Let’s talk out here,” she reasons, as she leads the way. Once they’re outside, she lets go of Emilia’s hand once they’re finally outside, in the fresh air. 

Emilia goes on, “I can’t…I simply can’t imagine what you must have been- what you are going through. I…I know I left, but that had nothing to do with your father, or you. Your father was a good person. The best, actually.” 

Jesus… “Okay, so then why did you leave?” 

Emilia pauses. “Maya…”

“No seriously, why did you leave then?” She goes on, arms folding in front of her chest. 

“That’s…it’s a hard question to answer.”

“Well obviously it wasn’t because of dad or I. We’re perfect. We’re better than you, so it has to do with you then, right? You’re the problem?”

Maybe it’s mean or harsh, but Maya thinks Emilia needs to hear it. If not now, then when? When is the best time to tell someone the goddamn honest to God truth? Never any time like the present; and Emilia’s quiet and stunned enough into submission to listen. 

“What? You just, ‘couldn’t handle it?’ Couldn’t hack being a mom? Being responsible for someone else? Because I sure as hell know it’s got nothing to do with me. I know it. Years, and years of therapy taught me that, Emilia. Like I may doubt myself at times because I’ve got anxiety, but I know exactly who I am, and what I want. I’m loyal, I’m brave, I’m strong, I’m there for the people I care about. I don’t leave when I’m scared. I don’t bail on people I love because I’m scared. I fight through it because I’m strong. That’s how I know this thing, this rift between us? Has everything to do with you not working out whatever issues you have being there for me. Quite frankly, dad did enough for the both of you. My friends, and my partner, and myself, do that for me now. I’m there for me. That guy back there, the blonde? Jonas? He’s there for me. My friends are there for me. So you really don’t have to show up here now, to be here for me. That’s already covered. And I’m shocked you think you have the right.” 

Jesus, that came out in a bit of a word vomit. Maya breathes deeply, and silences herself while she takes a minute to examine her mother. Tears are forming in the woman's eyes and Maya can’t help but feel guilty for that. Is she angry with her mother? Yes, but she doesn’t want to see her cry, either. 

“I- I’m…sorry I raised my voice. I’m sorry I sort of just…attacked you,” Maya mutters, eyeing her mother cautiously. Tears won’t take away the fact that this woman abandoned her for over nineteen years. That fact can’t and doesn’t escape her even if she’s apologizing. 

“No, no, you…you have every right to be upset. Every right. I left you, I didn’t give an explanation, or say goodbye. This is on me, Maya, and I do know that.”

Maya wants to believe her, and she sort of does. It’s coming off as genuine. She sure as hell hopes it is, because this conversation is all she’s ever wanted, for nineteen years. It’s a long damn time coming. So she should hear her out, right? She wanted a mom for so long, but shut that want off years ago to preserve herself, for protection. Now that it’s right in front of her, an actual possibility, well…it feels like a lot. 

“I think that’s why I felt so compelled to come out here and see you. For so, so many years I let the regret and guilt of leaving keep me from trying to develop a relationship with you again. I was scared you wouldn’t accept what I had to say, or the apology I wanted to give. I’m sorry. Truly, Maya, I am. And you don’t have to accept my apology, or invite me into your life. I know I’m not owed that after what I’ve done,” the older woman finishes, wiping tears away with the back of her hand. 

Jeez…this went deep. Maya doesn’t know how to respond at first. She hasn’t forgiven her mother, not even when she apologizes can she even consider beginning to forgive her right now, after all this time…it just hurts too much. Quite frankly, she still wishes she hadn’t shown up at all, and left it the way she did. Maybe if this meeting happened before her father died, she’d feel differently. But now…well, her heart’s got walls up. She’s guarded. She isn’t as willing to let others in as she once was, and she’s definitely not as willing to trust in the same way. That scar came from her mother, when she was ten.

It took years, and years to see it before her father passed away, but it took that act for her to finally bring it to the surface. All the trauma surrounding her mother walking out and her absence after came up with the grief she had for her father. The grief she still has. It’s hard. It almost feels like her mother subconsciously feels as though Maya needs her now that her father has passed. She doesn’t. Maya has lived without her before, she can still do it now. 

It’s her father she misses. Her father who took care of her throughout her entire childhood; who raised her. Maya clears her throat and looks down. She’s unsure of what to do with her hands, so she uses one to tuck loose hair behind her ear, and the other to fold across her chest when the breeze picks up a little. Both the women shift uncomfortably where they stand. More silence passes before Maya finally speaks up.

“I appreciate you saying that, mom. I really do. But I think…I dunno. I don’t think I can forgive you yet. There’s been so much time that’s passed by now, and I can’t forget the nearly twenty years you weren’t there.” Her mother looks down when Maya says the last bit. 

“Dad may have died four years ago now, but it still feels fresh to me. I’m not gonna replace one parent with another, if that’s what you think will happen here-”

“I’m not trying to do that, Maya, never,” Emilia says almost in tandem with her daughter speaking. 

“-It won’t. Okay, well, I’m almost 30 now. Just to be clear, I can take care of myself, and have been. But…maybe one day we can try to be friends, or…something. I don’t know what, but we can try. When I’m ready. Just, not right now. I do appreciate the gesture though, I’m, um…glad, you did it. I am. It’s a step forward, at least.” And that’s all she’s willing to give her mother after this extension of an olive branch, twenty years later. Emilia doesn’t deserve it, not by a longshot. But Maya’s father would have liked to see his daughter and ex-wife rekindling their relationship all these years later. He always wanted that for them; he died wanting that. 

So for him, and right now at least, only him, she gives her mother the opportunity to make up for lost time. To redeem herself, if that’s even humanly possible. They’ll just have to wait and see, she supposes. 

“I can accept that,” Emilia nods, smiling gently towards her daughter. “I’d like for us to be friends, or something. Anything…when you’re ready. Can I…” she hesitates, but then reaches into her back pocket. 

“Can we exchange numbers? Your dad used to keep me updated, but I didn’t know…”

“My number’s the same as it always has been. Here,” Maya says, reaching over to take her mother’s phone. She types in her own name, and when it pops up, she clicks on it, and presses the call button. Once it’s connected, she hangs up, and hands the phone back to her mother. 

“There, now I have your number too. And I can um…reach out. When I’m ready,” Maya repeats with a nod of her head. 

For a moment they both just stand there in silence, looking awkwardly at the ground, and then each other. Well…that’s it then, isn’t it? Maya’s said all she can say. Now it’s time to go back inside to her graduation party; to her celebration with her friends and her partner. This is about her for once. 

“Thank you. I’ll um…I’ll see or talk to you later, then?” Again, Emilia hesitates in her movements, but eventually reaches out to hug her daughter. Maya accepts it, awkwardly, not knowing exactly how to fit into her mother’s arms.

It’s so…foreign. She really doesn’t know this person; Emilia’s practically just an acquaintance. After a moment of standing in their stiff awkward embrace, Maya breaks it, and begins to back away slowly towards the club. 

“See or talk to you later, Emilia. Nice seeing you,” she says politely as she waves goodbye and turns to walk away. Without realizing it, Maya releases the tension building in her shoulders, dropping them almost instantly when she’s back inside Hotline. Despite being outside in fresh air, it felt almost more suffocating being out there than it did here. 

“Oops!” Maya exclaims, nearly running into someone on her way back in. Oh. It’s Jonas. Immediately, her arms wrap around him. “Oh thank fuck,” she breaths into him, closing her eyes. “That was rough.” 

“You okay?” Jonas murmurs into her hair, tilting his head so his chin dips just above Maya’s  forehead. He kisses that spot gently a few times as his own arms wrap around her. “I was just coming to grab you; Zara’s going on next… that looked a little intense out there at first.” 

“Oh she is? Good timing... I’m okay, just…tired. I’m, like, exhausted now, actually. But just mentally exhausted, like I’m still extremely ready for all this,” Maya clarifies quickly. “I’m here for Zara performing okay? Like…I just need to forget about that for a little while and have fun, you know? This is my day. I worked hard for this!" Maya hypes herself up, trying to forget the slight pain of nerves growing in her chest. Seeing her mother is a lot. But it's important to her she's present in the moment for this celebration of her hard work. Her mother would not, and could not take that away from her now.

"We can talk about it later, though, because I want to. For right now though? I wanna just forget about it, about her, and I wanna dance with you.” Maybe her partner can tell something's off about her; especially after all these years of being together, he's gotten good at reading her. But he lets it go, instead choosing to believe her words and follow them through. They'll talk later.

Jonas smiles, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against hers. “I think I can manage that.”

Maya scrunches her nose when she smiles back at him, tapping his nose. “I knew you could.” 

With that, she leans forward, catching his lips softly against hers. Even if things weren’t perfect, they’d be okay. Even if the relationship she had with her mother was strained, they could begin to repair that relationship. Even though her father passed away, he’s still present in her life now. All those things are true. All of those things are true. All of those things are true. She reminds herself of this again, and again as she takes Jonas’ hand, leading him towards the dance floor just as Zara takes the stage.

[reneexthompson]

self para // post-valentine's auction

She had waited too long to leave The Wilson- that much had become clear as she got into her car to head back to her apartment. Once the announcement had been made, Renee had started checking on everyone around her to make sure that they were safe or knew what they were going to do to get to safety. It was just part of her nature- wanting to make sure that others were okay and taken care of. She'd been like that her whole life in one way or another, looking after her mother whenever she needed a shoulder to lean on because of whatever Ricky had done. She was the dependable one after all. The brunette was having mixed feelings about that role more lately, but it didn't matter at the moment.

The belt on her coat was tied tightly as Renee finally left The Wilson and walked to her car in the lot. The weather was already so terrible, she could hardly see the vehicle before she was right in front of it. A sigh of relief came from her lips when she finally got into the car and changed her shoes. It was a saving grace that she'd decided to stuff a pair of boots in the car before heading to the auction so she could get out of her heels.

Sitting in the lot while the car did its best to warm up, Renee sent a quick text to her mother and brother - "Leaving The Wilson now. Headed back to my apartment. Hope you're both safe and staying warm. ❤️" Finally giving in, she buckled her seatbelt and started driving as carefully as she could. Each minute that passed made it more and more difficult to see the road or any markings, but thankfully she figured that she was the only person stupid enough to be out on the road at this point. Unfortunately, she was wrong and the flash of the lights from a car coming towards her caused the brunette to swerve right into a patch of ice. Losing control of the car, it rolled over into a ditch onto the driver's side. Her left hand crushed between the steering wheel and door while her head whacked the headrest before the airbags deployed.

She had lost consciousness for a few moments before coming to and realizing she couldn't move her hand. Groaning, she used her free hand to try and reach her phone on it's windshield mount. She could vaguely make out the words "No Service" on the phone. "No... no, no! Help!" She yelled as if there was anyone nearby to hear her. She hit the Emergency button and just hoped that it would go through.

It felt like a million years before EMTs finally got her out of the car. She had been getting closer and closer to shutting her eyes, between hitting her head and being unable to move. "What's your name?" "Um... R-Renee Thom-Thompson."

Everything else was a blur to her until she woke up in a hospital bed, the fluorescent lights causing her to squint and wince from the pain in her head. But her head was the last thing on her mind when she raised her hand to find it covered in a cast. How was she supposed to cook with a broken hand?

[proship-angelbunny]

Since I just saw a post about this I figured I’d remind everyone

THERES NO SUCH THING AS A INHERENTLY HARMFUL PARAPHILIA!! Yes even those ones. There only harmful ways of expressing these attractions

[neuroticboyfriend]

some disabled & neurodivergent side of tumblr safety & etiquette:

dont: dump negativity on positivity posts. if you dont relate to a post, it's either not aimed at you, or you're not ready for its message (and thats ok!)

do: make your own posts expressing how you feel; your feelings still matter and your blog is just the place to express them.

dont: speak over people with different experiences than yours, or speak on things you don't know about.

do: have an open mind and educate yourself on things you don't know much about - uplift the voices of people with direct experience.

dont: send unprompted vent or advice asks to blogs that dont have that as a stated purpose.

do: check out a blog to see if they take vent/advice asks; if you dont see anything, ask if you can vent/seek advice first - or add a disclaimer at the start of your asks, with TW.

dont: engage with triggering content. dont post your triggers publicly either, my lord.

do: engage with content that helps you express, process, and cope with your health. take breaks when you need them, too.

dont: treat bloggers like celebrities or like they owe you a response.

do: treat bloggers like regular people; respect boundaries.

dont: demonize ANY condition. including paraphilic disorders, sexual/moral OCD, personality disorders, addiction, or factitious disorders

remember: we're all dealing with our own stuff, and we're all in this together. if anyone acts as if this isnt true, they're probably not in a good place themself.

(feel free to add on!)

[wallpapedits-vvc]

Matching wallpapers #180

Like/reblog if you save ✨

None of this wallpapers/pictures belongs to me, I just do the matching.

[saltandskeletrons]

Hamilton was one of the first pop culture medias I was really into with a cheating plot line and I was like damn. Can’t believe this guy threw away his successful career he dedicated his whole life to and incredible wife and family for one hook up. I should not have been surprised Apparently this is very common and easy for men.

[craycraybluejay]

You said in tags once that pedophiles and child predators aren't the same, can you explain why? /GEN

For the same reason that people with any kind of attraction to anyone ever aren't all rapists/don't all pursue romantic/sexual feelings that could or definitely would hurt the other person. Because paraphilias are simply the morally neutral state of experiencing attraction and rape/grooming is Not That. Because people *choose* to hurt others, but not what they feel. Because a good majority of child sexual abusers aren't even pathologically/paraphilically attracted to children, they *just want to hurt them because they can.* Because they're dissatisfied with something in life, or want a punching bag, or want to feel powerful, etc etc.

It's not really different conceptually from physical abuse. Do people do it because they have icky feelings about liking blood or violence? No. They do it to feel powerful. Sexual abuse is not about sex but about power. Hope this answers your question. I've answered it a good million times on this blog but eh I'm in a generous mood.

[tai-janai]

littel... voices,,, hug and makeu p...

ill do the rest of the scene too so part one i guess

[desasters-blog]

"bonito es coincidir con alguien que te cuide, que te respete y no tenga miedo de quererte con todo el corazón"

[bloodyboxcutter]

Dog boy AGAIN

[vilisisms]

˚☽˚.⋆ ― open event starter // @exitiumstarters // phase 2 in the middle of the chaos

heat, pain, and the soulless eyes of an oea agent. those were the last things she remembered. the heat, that was the most vivid sensation she remembered. it came from... the fog of hiding so much, she didn't know why she felt the heat only that it was burning her from the very inside out. then the pain, she could see through the fog of her thoughts the cause of the pain and it was the cause of whoever those eyes belonged to.

she tried to get up, to move, to call out, but she felt trapped in her body and with her mind still covered in a fog, she couldn't understand why. it wasn't until she began to regain her hearing that a new memory flashed and broke free of the fog. screaming, the loudest screams she's ever heard in her life and then she realized it had been coming from her. the pain was so bad, and the agent would not stop, she didn't even realize she was screaming.

then it all went quiet, and the pain stopped. all of the pain, everything all at once just stopped and a peace like she's never felt before flooded over her and then it was black and she was gone.

that was until this moment.

she felt dazed and her confusion on what happened and what was happening was taking over as the fog disappeared. then all at once, she felt herself jerk back into her body and her eyes fluttered open. billie. she had been with billie searching rooms for a way out, but then they were caught....

'fuck.' those were her first thoughts as she moved sit up and take in the chaos around her. her throat was dry, and she felt weak but she would worry about that later, all she could think about right now was finding her family, briggs, and ryker. riley didn't know what she would tell them, hell, she had no idea what was even going on or what happened but she could gather from the scenes around her that every worst case scenario that they had thought of, happened.

then it hit her as fast as the pain had, she hadn't been just injured and knocked out. she had died. whatever the agent had done to her, killed her. this was her transition.

[dead-air-radio]

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱༻¨:·

SAWYER

Trans he/him, switch, pan

I was originally @rotting-gorewhoree but tumblr Hates me

Block don't report

- emo and gorewhore

-religious truama turned kinks

-horror lover and freak

-morute and gloomy lover <3

This blog will have gore and explicit things on it and I'm making you aware. This is personally just a vent and rant blog about things I like don't take it too seriously. I have an ed and vent about it but I don't condone it

I'm fine with any nicknames,

Signing off

[wallpapedits-vvc]

Matching wallpapers #170

Like/reblog if you save ✨

First edit by me. Credits of the original photos to their respective owners.

[blue-madd]

Write about your paracosms!!

I just read back some stuffs I wrote about a paracosm I created based on a dream like 5-7 years ago and I am sobbing. Yes, it's written badly. Yes, I'm judging myself a little but still-

Most of it is nonsense since I forgot some of the lore (like there are a lot of characters being mentioned with absolutely 0 clue of who they are & I can't remember shit about them so it's v frustrating) but I'm so happy I still thought about writing and keeping parts of this story because it's amazing and exciting and I'm so proud of myself, I can't believe my brain came up with all of that based on one fucked up dream!?

My point is : write it down. Doesn't need to be well written or make 50 pages but one day your future self might find it back and be amazed at how creative you are. One day, you might miss these worlds so keep a trace of it to help you remember how awesome they are.

These will make good memories to look back to, I promise.

[thefirstvessel]

The way our brain chemistry got rewritten all because a masked British dude with an oral fixation decided to name a song Vore 💀