#someone get me off tumblr please it’s the only social media i have left and i fear that it is still one too many | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Text

𝒏𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒎

part 3 of 💔broken family💔

summary - your life has gone downhill so fast, having drowned your emotions in alcohol, you're met with your ex-husband dropping your son off.

warning - angst, alcohol abuse, self-doubt, thoughts of disappearing, flashbacks, sad moments, crying, swearing, mentions of not taking care of themselves.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 2 - part 4

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You didn’t know how long it had been since you last saw Ari and Jason. You didn’t bother to check your phone or take good care of yourself. You hadn’t left the house, and it had gotten worse than when your son was living here, sure. He didn’t love you, but at least someone was there to bring you out of the dark. The bottles piled up in the corner, and bags had gathered under your eyes. You had showered, unable to live with the smell that would occur if you didn’t, but you barely ate. You couldn’t stomach it. The food had slowly gone off, and you relied on the alcohol between your hands to bring you back to those happy dreams, the world you would rather be in than this one.

You had probably lost your job, but you had already lost everything else in life that you didn’t care anymore. You took another swig, more tears flowing down your face as the memories kept replaying over and over. You stared at the blank tv, remembering when you had first met Ari.

You were in your twenties, wearing the prettiest light pink sundress and standing in line to get your favourite coffee. You hadn’t noticed the hunk watching you from a table. His laptop opened in front of him as you caught his eye. You were naive but not stupid. He had seen you come in every day, always ordering the same thing and always wearing a different colour sundress. Your head turned, and your eyes connected, causing a spark to flow through the two of you, and you gave him a soft smile, your cheek heating up as he returned it. You remember some asshole bumping into you just as you went to take a sip of your drink, causing the liquid to splash out and stain your dress. Ari had shot up, moving toward you so quickly, making sure you were okay, and giving the man hell before he went and ordered you a new one. You remember sitting down with him, feeling so shy, in the presence of someone so handsome.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He sat down next to you, handing you napkins and putting a large hand on your back as he stared at you with those beautiful blue eyes. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, crap. I forgot to introduce myself.” You swear your heart stopped as he chuckled. The smile on his face and the sound that escaped him was so… So perfect. His eyes connected with yours again, “I’m Ari. What’s your name, gorgeous?” Oh, at that moment, you wished your name was gorgeous. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it would beat out of your chest.

“I’m Y/n.” His warm hand encased yours, giving it a soft squeeze, and the rest was history. You had fallen in love, got engaged a year after meeting, and then had Jason two years after getting married. You went so perfectly together, you were happy, and it was as if you were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together, but then everything changed.

You blink, coming out of the memory, gulping down some more of your drink. You are startled as there is a knock at the door. Not knowing that you were supposed to be expecting someone, you got up and headed over to the door, slowly opening it and sighing as you came face to face with Ari, his eyes moving up and down your body, and you just sipped the wine out of the glass in your hand. “Did you need something?”

“I’m here to drop Jason off.” You raise a brow, wondering why he is dropping your son off, thinking that maybe he has another date with the unknown woman. “Are you up for taking care of him?” You roll your eyes, placing the now empty glass down.

“Of course, I’m up for taking care of my own son. I’m his mother.” Ari nods and lets you know that he will go and get Jason, and you sit back on the couch. When your eyes land on him, you try and smile. “Hey, baby. I missed you. Did you have fun at your dad’s?” He stays between your ex-husband's legs, clinging to him as if you’d steal him away. “I got some new toys for you?” You could feel this draining you further, bringing you deeper into the darkness.

Jason’s ears perk up at the sound of new toys, causing him to run to his room. “I can take to daddy’s!” You hold back the tears, not wanting Ari to see you so weak as you realise your son still doesn’t want to be around you. How could you fail as a mother? You watch as he comes back with the new toys, holding them in his tiny arms as he heads back over to his father, you try and smile at them, but this is breaking you too much.

As they leave, you place your head in your hands and burst into tears, screaming and crying. Why was this happening to you? All you wanted to do was hold your son in your arms and tell him you love him. All you wanted was for Ari never to have stopped loving you. The tears kept flowing, and you whimpered into your hands, feeling your heart squeeze inside your chest. Everything had become too much, and you didn’t think you could go any longer like this. You were so lost in your mind that you didn’t notice Ari walking back into the house, his heart breaking as he heard your screams. He had rushed over, kneeling on the ground and bringing you into a hug, his hands gripping the back of your head as your fingers curled into his shirt, sobbing into him, finally letting go of all the pain.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, honey. I’m here. It’s okay.” He whispered, but his words were no comfort, not when you knew he wasn’t really here. He would never be here for you. Why would he? He left. Ari held you closer as you shook your head.

“You’re not, and it’s not.” You pull away, staring at him with tear-filled eyes. “I don’t have anyone anymore, Ari. You left. I lost the love of my life because you stopped loving me! I’ve even lost my son because he blames me!” You slam your fists into his chest, more tears flowing down as your heart keeps breaking. “Why are you even here!? Why are you acting as if you care?!” You bite your bottom lip, whimpering and sobbing, staring into the love of your life's eyes, thinking that the hurt look you see is all in your head. You push away, curling into the couch and turning your head. “Just go… It’s what you do best, Ari. You never even gave me a reason…..” You look at him. “Was I that hard to love?” You watch the many emotions go through him, but your eyes slip closed as you lean back into the chair. “You can go now… Looking at you hurts too much.”

Ari nods, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on your forehead before he walks out of your house. Your tears continue to flow because again. You are truly alone. Your eyes open in shock when tiny arms wrap around you, hugging your body. “I sorry, mummy! I wuv you!” You stare at your son before your eyes move up and lock with Ari’s. Your arms slowly wrap around Jason’s, and you rest your head on top of his head as your eyes slip back closed, smelling his sweet scent, having missed him. “I stay?” You pull back and look at his wide blue eyes.

“Do you want to, baby?” He nods, nuzzling his head into your chest. You look back up to Ari, and he gives you a nod and soft smile before looking back down at your son, holding him closer to you. It felt like you finally got to feel your baby in your arms again before everything went wrong. But you couldn’t get your hopes up because it would break you if he turned around and did what he did before. “Thank you… I’ll drop him off tomorrow.” He waves you off before leaving. “Baby, what do you want to do today?”

“Food and movies?” He stares up at you with wide eyes, and you nod, excusing yourself first to brush your teeth, change and wash your face, needing to get the scent of alcohol off of you before heading back into the room, noticing him nuzzled into the pillow. When Jason’s eyes meet yours, he gives a little smile. “Mummy!” You smile and head over, sitting down and breathing in as he nuzzles into your side, holding onto you for dear life. You grab your phone and scroll through take-out options.

“Did you want pizza for dinner, baby?” He replies with a little yes, and you nod before standing, his little hands going up as he signals he wants to come with you. You pick him up, place him on your hip and make your way to the kitchen, setting him down on the counter as you prepare the snacks for the movie as you both wait for the pizza. “Have you been enjoying staying at your father’s, baby?”

Jason nods, “Is good. But at night is sad. Like here.” You tilt your head, stopping what you are doing and wiping your hands onto a teatowel. You slowly move over to him and cup his cheeks.

“What do you mean sad, baby?” You stroke his cheek, staring down worriedly at him. “Baby, what happens at night at daddy’s house?”

He sniffles, pouting as he looks up at you. “At nigh’, daddy cries. Is like here when you cry, he tries to be quiet, but I hear him.” Jason leans into your hand. “Is sad.” He pats your hands, “I in trouble?”

You shake your head, “No, baby. You aren’t in trouble. Do you know why he’s always crying?” You continue to stroke his cheek.

Jason shrugs. “All hear is I sowwy.” You nod, pressing a kiss on his head.

“Okay, baby. Don’t worry. Nothing is your fault, okay?” He nods, sucking on his thumb as you go back to the food, your mind now filled with why Ari was crying and who he was apologising to. You knew Ari was one to cry when something really hurt him. It was another one of the reasons you fell in love with him. He would let his feelings out, you had thought you found the perfect guy when he chose to communicate through problems instead of leaving, but you guess you were wrong with your judgement. “Alright, baby. The snacks are ready, and pizza is on its way. Do you want to help mummy carry the snacks to the loungeroom?” Jason nods, grabbing some of the food as you pick him up and grab the remaining. Once you’ve sat down and placed the snacks on the coffee table before you, you turn toward your son. “What do you want to watch, baby?”

“Avengers!” He giggles, punching the air. You shake your head, smiling before putting the Avengers on, “Captin!” Your son squeals, seeing his favourite superhero on the screen. “Pow! Pow!” You smile, sinking into the couch and holding your son close, your heart finally feeling warm after feeling so cold for so long. “Mumma! Wook! Cap ‘Merica!” Jason’s head moves from you to the screen, staring wide-eyed at the blue, white and red man. “Look like daddy?”

When those words slip from his lips, you stare at the screen, seeing the resemblance of the man you love. Your eyes move down his body and back to his face, those pretty blue eyes. You blink and shake your head. It’s your mind, and it’s playing tricks on you, making you see him because you miss him. You feel a finger poke your cheek. You look down and see your son staring at you with furrowed brows. “Yeah, baby. He looks like daddy.” You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead, smiling as he bursts into giggles.

“Mumma?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“You still wuv me?” He pats his chest, pouting.

“Oh, baby. Of course, I still love you and will never stop loving you.” You place him onto your lap, “Why do you think otherwise?”

You stroke his sides as he pouts at you. “Just tought… I, bad boy, tought you stopped wuving me.” He sniffles, fat tears brimming in his eyes.

Tears fill your eyes, bringing your son closer to you as you place a kiss on his head, pulling him into you. “I will always love you, baby. Even when you hate me, I’ll still love you.”

Jason shakes his head into your chest, “I don’ hate you! I wuv you mummy!” Hearing those words felt good... But no one would ever know how broken you really are.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

504 notes · View notes

scarlettgauthor · 3 months

Text

His Sacred Incantations NOW IN AUDIOBOOK FORM!

(Y'all I basically had to fistfight Adobe Premiere in an alley to get that preview made, please clap.)

Yes, Tumblr! It's happening! It has happened! The His Sacred Incantations audiobook is finally available, and you're hearing about it now! Fifteen hours of femdom fantasy adventure coming straight to your earholes! Bondage! Pegging! A really cool fight with a necromancer! At least one dragon! This story has everything, and now you can listen to it!

I am so, so delighted that Martin Martinez was willing to come back for the second book to complete Lucían and Glory's story. When I'm reviewing the audiobooks I no longer hear a narrator doing a voice, I just hear Lucían and Glory's voices, which is an incredible testament to Martin's performance. He had a fantastic time reading this (which I know for a fact because he reached out to me to say these were his favorite books he's never narrated) and that comes across in the audio.

Some narrators might be intimidated by a book that's 25% sex scene by volume (I did the math once) but not Martin! He put his whole ass and libido into reading the kink scenes, and then Antoine Bandele of AB Book Services took his raw reading and added musical stings and special effects that really elevate the entire auditory experience. It's truly everything I could possibly have wanted from an audiobook.

Also! In celebration of the book being available, I'm putting the His Secret Illuminations audiobook on sale on my website for 50% off! Grab both at a savings, and settle in for thirty whole hours of Martin's wonderful voice and my wild story.

Where can I buy it?

Right now? Just on my website! It's been submitted to Audible and also for wider distribution through Author's Republic, but those take time to percolate through the system and my website is almost immediate!

As with the His Secret Illuminations audiobook, I had to break it into five parts in order to get around the file size limit. Everything I sell through my website is DRM free, and I get the entire cover price instead of only 25-50%. It's the best way to directly support me, and once you have it, you own the files and no one can take them away from you.

More retailers will be coming soon, but as Patrons you get the direct link and the first announcement!

How can I help out?

Spread the word about the audio book! Y'all have the sneak peek, but I'll be sharing this on social media in the next couple of days. Like, reskeet, reblog, reshare, leave good reviews of the audio book where appropriate--all of that is a huge help to me, someone who is her own marketing department. Also, as mentioned in a previous update, I just left my day job, so writing is now my only income. Word of mouth has been my most valuable tool, so I want to thank every one of you who has ever recommended my books to a friend! You're helping keep weird art alive!

Grab the recording, and settle in for a horny weekend, Patrons!

64 notes · View notes

sailorhaumea · 1 month

Text

This is going to be my only contribution to Discourse for the foreseeable future: the fact that I now find myself having to check the Tumblr of people whose fics seem interesting on AO3 to make sure they're not a straight up war crimes denier/conspiracy theorist (any conflict, really, take your pick, but this was mainly prompted by Palestine) is incredibly upsetting and not good for my mental health. And stop trying to fandomize conflict when *real people* are dying. It's fucked up. If your activism doesn't recognize this very important detail it's not helping anyone.

Don't be posting completely monstrous things like "actually hostages are treated well" or "there's no evidence of sexual violence" or "actually all the people killed were killed by Israel" or telling Jews to "go back to Poland". What the fuck is wrong with you? This isn't helping people who are suffering. No one is benefiting from this! And neither is opposing a ceasefire because you think it'd let the IDF win. When people did this on Twitter they were called out by actual Palestinians for it because, again, this is real life, not a game. This isn't two sports teams playing against each other. People are dying every day.

On another note: as someone who saw her Syrian friends talk for years about the Assad regime grinding hundreds of thousands of people into dust, some of them being permanently silenced out of nowhere one day never to say another word because their life was snuffed out by a barrel bomb, if someone tried to make a fucked up "fandom" around the Syrian Revolution, I'd think they were an asshole. Do better. And don't you fucking dare heap praise on groups pretending to care about your cause when they're also still helping Assad kill more people. Fuck off with your praise for the Houthis, or Hezbollah, or the IRGC. I have lost friends to these murderers. Their claims to care about your cause are lies. They only care about human rights violations against Palestinians if they can be used as a prop to distract people from recognizing their own crimes against humanity.

I will not be lectured about how Hezbollah or Assad are friends of Palestinians when they slaughtered countless Palestinian refugees in Yarmouk. When Assad's father Hafez was a Syrian nationalist who openly stated that Palestinians were just Syrians, that there was no Palestinian people.

And please, for the love of G-d, don't fucking boost people like Rania Khalek, or Max Blumenthal, or Ben Norton, who cheerlead these mass murderers from one side of their mouth while pretending to care about civilians if they're Palestinians. If you see someone reposting some sort of Twitter bluecheck, please fucking do a background check, because for years Assadists have used Palestine as a way to do entryism into movements.

That's all I have to say. I left Twitter and made Tumblr my primary social media to get away from having to subject myself to the worst takes imaginable. This is my only return to anything that could be considered political I intend to do on this website. You will see no other posts remotely related to this topic from me. Don't ask me to make more. I've suffered enough damage to my mental health as a Jewish woman the past seven months.

#jumblr #palestine #activism #israel #i/p #free syria

25 notes · View notes

superfluouskeys · 6 days

Text

wip actually wednesday! ♥

I was certainly not tagged by non-tumblr-user @menzosarres in my personal favorite form of social media, being snapchatted a tumblr post, but anyway, I have chosen to bother you all with more original thing because it's been awhile and also I want to and it makes me happy :) I'm also sharing two snippets bc see above :) and also the sections are related but my transitional sections in this part are a bit of a mess rn LOL.

I really need a better sorting system this is starting to become egregious.

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4

I'm doing a cop-out and saying if you want to do the thing pls feel free to consider yourself tagged!

“Back already, Sister?”

Tamsin startles. Althea turns with poise and grace. The owner of the voice is not nearly so imposing in her stature as Althea, but no less regal in her countenance. Her flaxen hair is arranged delicately around her shoulders, accentuating the delicate shape of her face. She wears a dress of deep red that appears to Tamsin a bit more fashionable than what Althea prefers, fitted at the waist and flared out down to her ankles.

“Sister Maren,” Althea nods cordially. “There was an unexpected development.”

Maren’s sharp eyes fall upon Tamsin. “So I see.”

“May I introduce Tamsin of Godsplace?” says Althea.

Tamsin glances nervously between them. “Uh. Pleased to meet you.”

She attempts a surpassingly awkward curtsey. Maren’s thin-lipped smile exudes haughty derision.

“Yes,” says Maren. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”

“So, as you can see, I’ll need to take her to get settled in and find someone who’s available to initiate her.”

Maren hums, a short, affected sound. “I can teach her,” she says, with a sharp-eyed glance toward Tamsin, “if you want it done properly.”

Althea laughs. “I think I’d prefer that our newest student survive her first week.”

Maren’s brow twitches in subtle annoyance at the jab. “Suit yourself,” she says primly. “But don’t come crying to me when Sister Helie teaches her whatever it is she’s calling proper form these days.”

“Did you need something, Maren?” Althea asks her evenly.

Maren scoffs. “And here I thought I was coming to greet an old friend,” she replies mildly. “Yes, as it happens, but I didn’t know you’d have company. Come and find me, when you can spare the time.”

She turns to leave without waiting for an answer, her red skirts twirling dramatically around her. Before she gets very far, though, she stops abruptly and turns back toward Tamsin. “Oh, and,” she begins, and then curtseys low, curling her hand into a fist somewhere near her heart. “Well come and well met, little sister.”

Tamsin watches her go in stunned silence.

“Well,” says Althea, with muted amusement. “What a welcome. Let’s get you settled, shall we?”

She sets off with surety, and Tamsin is left to scramble after her.

“Is she really a teacher?” Tamsin wonders, for lack of a better way to begin. Tamsin does not have much experience with teachers, but the small handful of schoolteachers in Godsplace are all kind, if somewhat harried women, all but one among them (who but recently began as a sort of apprentice) much older and married with children.

Tamsin supposes Maren could be much older than she appears, but she certainly doesn’t have the air of patience Tamsin would expect from a teacher. Tamsin wonders if teachers are very different here at the Academy.

“You doubt her suitability?” Althea wonders, still with that lilt of amusement about her voice.

“Oh, no, I only—“

“It’s understandable, but I assure you Sister Maren is an excellent teacher, and has an excellent heart besides. Her style, however, is…not for the faint of heart, shall we say.”

“That was sort of what I was wondering about,” says Tamsin.

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough,” says Althea.

Whatever Tamsin is expecting, Teacher Helie is not it. She is noticeably slight of frame, particularly set against Althea, not quite plump but with an air of softness about her, and the silvery blonde of her hair and eyelashes gives her the look of one lightly dusted with the morning dew. She greets Tamsin in the same way Maren did, except that it is not the same at all. The curtsey, the gesture, and the words all bear the conviction of deepest sincerity.

“Tamsin cannot see the Gift thus far,” Althea tells Helie, “and it’s my impression she still doubts me when I tell her she possesses it at all.”

Tamsin ducks her head, embarrassed, although the words are true.

“Oh, dear,” says Helie gently, reaching out for Tamsin’s hands, “we Forgotten must never bow our heads in shame!” Her voice matches her countenance, soft and sweet, and with the lilt of an accent Tamsin does not recognize. When Tamsin takes her hands and looks up, she notices that Helie’s eyes are unusually pale, as though painted with the same brush as her hair and lashes.

Helie smiles kindly and squeezes Tamsin’s hands. “Every Gift, big or small, is precious,” she says, with the same heart-wrenching conviction as well come and well met. “And I believe that no Gift is an accident.” She leans in, almost conspiratorial. “The Gift wants to be used, you see. Even the tiniest sliver of magic, in the right hands, may one day take the world by storm.”

“See? Just as I’ve been saying,” says Althea, pleased, but restrained as ever. “And with that, I shall leave you in Sister Helie’s capable hands.” To Tamsin’s surprise, Althea then mimics the greeting the others have bestowed upon her. Althea’s version is not sarcastic, but neither is it effusive. Althea makes the gesture seem somehow ordinary, as though it were the way one should always expect to be greeted. “Well come and well met, little sister,” she says with a regal curtsey. “If there’s anything you need, your teachers can likely provide it, but nevertheless, please do not hesitate to seek me out.”

“Ah,” Helie sighs musically when Althea closes the door behind her. “Forgive me for saying so, Tamsin, but you must really have left an impression on Sister Althea.” She chuckles lightly. “Normally she doesn’t like to be sought out by anyone.”

Tamsin picks at her skirt self-consciously. “She could have just been saying that to be polite.”

Helie laughs. It is a bright, joyful sound. “Believe me when I tell you, Sister Althea doesn’t 'just say' anything. And certainly not for the sake of politeness!”

Helie leads her to the front of the classroom, and pushes some of the frontmost desks out of the way. “Now,” she begins. “I’m sure Althea’s told you, but just to reiterate, it’s not at all unusual to be unable to see the Gift at first, particularly if you were raised in an environment where magic was not commonplace.” She taps her temple. “Our eyes can play tricks on us, you see. We see what we expect to see, and our very minds are wont to ignore what doesn’t make sense to us.”

Tamsin considers this. The statement somehow sparks both comfort and anxiety. She wonders how much of her life she has somehow misremembered. She wonders if perhaps there were signs that she had the Gift and she simply didn’t have the eyes to see them. She wonders, with a sudden and intense twinge of remorse, if she could have escaped sooner, or if she’d have even thought to try.

“For those who cannot see, I find it’s best to start with feeling,” Helie continues. “Now, don’t be discouraged if this doesn’t work right away, either. Many of us are inclined to ignore what our bodies tell us, too.”

Tamsin lets out a breath of something like laughter. “You make it sound a bit bleak.”

Helie considers this with a subtle furrowing of her delicate brow. “Bleak?” she echoes. “Oh, not at all, dear. Perhaps you’re thinking of the time you’ve lost? Wishing you’d realized earlier?”

Tamsin averts her gaze. “You’ve read my mind, I’m afraid.”

Helie shakes her head. “Whatever happened in the past, Tamsin, you’ve made it all the way here. That is no small feat. Where you are now is already so very different from where you started. We Forgotten sacrifice much, but what we gain is…immeasurable.”

She holds out her hands, palms upturned, but it feels somehow different than before. Tamsin watches her for a moment, hesitant, until Helie nods her encouragement.

Tamsin takes her hands.

She looks up, trying and failing to hide her disappointment. She had expected something to happen.

“Close your eyes,” says Helie.

Tamsin closes her eyes.

“Take a deep breath.”

Tamsin breathes. Her chest is tight, and she realizes only now that she is trembling.

“Another,” Helie directs. “Breath by breath, let go of your fear.”

Tamsin breathes again. But another voice echoes in the back of her mind, the man from the Town Square back in Godsplace. Do you know fear? How will you find peace? Burn her, burn her, burn her—

Tamsin staggers back from Helie, heart racing, gasping for air, and with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she stammers. “I’m sorry, I really tried, I—“

“Oh, dear,” Helie soothes, with hands gently patting her arms. “I see now. Your power frightens you.”

Tamsin scrubs at her face, but the tears will not stop flowing. It’s like the whole journey has come crashing back into her all at once, the horror of the screaming girl in the Square, the sorrow at the loss of a dear friend to an archaic tradition, the muted fury at the way her mother treats her, the terror at what would befall her at the whim of Teddy Page, and then--!

And then, perhaps worst of all, the hope! The horrible, heart-rending hope that someone had come to save her at last, that everything would be different from now on--and the shame, that a nothing and a nobody should dare to want such change for herself, let alone allow herself to have it.

Tamsin covers her face, unable to stop her crying. Helie continues patting her arms, and she speaks in a soft, soothing tone. “It’s all right now, Tamsin,” says Helie. “It always hurts the most before it starts to heal. And can I tell you something else?”

Again Tamsin attempts to dry her eyes. She sniffles miserably. Helie withdraws, and digs a handkerchief out of her pocket, which she offers to Tamsin.

“Some people think foreswearing home and family and all that came before is the hardest part about becoming Forgotten. And for them, that may be true. But it’s not just about dedicating yourself to your craft, or to your sisters.”

Helie pats her shoulder again, more firmly this time. “It’s about letting go,” she says with a smile, “of what is holding you back.”

The gravity of her words stuns Tamsin into a state of calm, and she is able to dry her eyes at last.

“Shall we try again?” Helie asks her.

Tamsin nods.

Helie moves away, back to the center of the space, giving Tamsin room to follow her. Tamsin watches the way she holds herself, the way she presents her hands to Tamsin, like there is some sort of strength flowing through her arms, even though Helie doesn’t look remotely like the sort of person one would consider physically strong.

Tamsin tries to imitate Helie’s posture, squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath before she approaches to take Helie’s hands.

“I can see what you’re thinking,” says Helie with a wry smile. “You don’t want that to happen again. But it might.”

Tamsin falters. She withdraws her hands, and so does Helie.

“You have a lot of pain,” says Helie kindly. “I’d guess it’s pain you barely even knew was there. It won’t just go away like that.”

“Then…” says Tamsin uncertainly, “what should I do?”

“Let it all in,” says Helie. Again, she presents her hands. “The pain, yes. But also the joy.”

Tamsin nods. She takes Helie’s hands, and closes her eyes like before.

“Breathe in,” says Helie. “Feel your fear, your sorrow, your anger. Then breathe out, and let it go.”

Tamsin breathes in. It’s like being outside in the dead of winter. Her chest aches, and she is still trembling. Dozens of burnings flash before her eyes, each one the same, each one an injustice. Her cheeks burn with the shame of her namelessness, her ingratitude toward the woman who didn’t have to raise her, even in spite of everything Mrs. Burkow did and said. Whatever Tamsin imagined in the recesses of her mind, she had always expected to lead an unremarkable existence.

But Tamsin is no longer unremarkable. And it no longer matters that she has no family and no name. Tamsin is here because Keeper Althea saw something in her that no one else ever could. Tamsin is here because she has the Gift, because Althea believes she has the Gift, and so she must have the Gift, because, because—

Tamsin gasps, and she almost withdraws her hands, almost opens her eyes. She feels…something, like a tingle beneath her hands, like some sort of invisible energy is radiating from Helie’s palms, real enough to touch. She holds on tighter, as though she could get more of the feeling just by pressing down, but the tingle remains subtle, distant, like the fleeting remnants of a wonderful dream.

“Do you feel it?” Helie whispers, but there is a smile in her voice. She already knows the answer.

“Yes,” Tamsin breathes. Again there are tears in her eyes, but she isn’t embarrassed. These are tears of joy.

#i'm so tired today it was hard for me to type wednesday i kept misspelling it LOL #so happy wip webnesday to you #exciting tag for writing things #personal #i miss my original thing :( i'm ready to return to being insane about it #the part around these two snippets is like especially messy lol bc i was way too excited abt these two moments in particular #it's aaaaaaaallllllllllllllllll coming together!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#okay back into the work cave i go

7 notes · View notes

gamora-borealis · 6 months

Note

hi so im one of those ppl that watched dnp religiously years ago and ive been out of the loop for a long time so what’s the thing about the wedding theory & the phil tag thing? if you dont mind explaining or maybe pointing me in the direction of someone else who could?

Oh well hello welcome back! Very long rambley answer under the cut :)

Tbh there's been way more insane stuff that's happened since, but in 2022 the biggest thing that had happened was Dan released his video "Why I Quit YouTube" where he announced that he was going on a solo tour ("We're All Doomed") and making some YouTube videos to go along with / promote the tour ("Dystopia Daily"). So I don't remember the exact details (I bet if you search dan and phil iceland on tumblr you might find some stuff), but Dan's tour was supposed to end in Iceland, and based on some stuff his friend PJ said on twitch it seemed like maybe he (and his gf) and Dan and Phil were going to have a vacation in Iceland after the last show. And idk if there was anything else (like maybe based on stuff they were liking on social media idk lol) people were like... what if they are having a wedding in Iceland after the last show? Apparently Iceland has been advertised as a gay wedding tourism destination too so idk. I think tumblr phannies were just bored and clowning but also it was 2022 which was the infamous prophesized year they were supposed to get married (based on a joke Crabstickz made years ago), so there was this thought like, what if they get married in early 2023 (when the Iceland show was supposed to be) out of spite.

Anyways, the Iceland show ended up getting cancelled. I'm not exactly sure why, but there were some other cancelled shows too and some people suspect it was due to poor ticket sales / too many shows in one city / issues with venues (maybe they were scheduling some that were too big) / issues with promotion (dan's management and touring agencies left most of the promotion to him outside of the standard local venues in-house promotion). Both Dan and Phil got new management this year after all that (Dan now has an agent for his comedy / touring stuff, Phil has an agent for his own channel, and then they have another agent for the gaming channel).

Anyways, 2023 kicked off and Dan and Phil started doing all kinds of insane stuff, which that's a whole other long post about how wild this year has been (Japhan 3.0, OnlyPhans, Gaming Channel comeback, Dan being a slutty nun for Halloween baking, Catboy calendar, etc) and they have been pretty open and comfortable together online lately (while still being fairly private) and more settled in their lives that some people actually think they might actually be getting married. Which, idk maybe we are just being insane again but this time I actually do think it's more believable lol. They bought/designed a house together (though I think it's actually a condo? penthouse? something like that) and Phil has had some health issues so even though they might not really be the kind to want to get married, some people are wondering if they might do it for legal reasons and also to maybe celebrate their relationship with family since Dan came out to his family and then like 9 months after their coming out videos the pandemic happened. Also doesn't help that next year is their 15th anniversary, which the anniversary of the first day they met takes place on the same day Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance are performing at the We Were Young Festival 2024 lmaooo. I mean some people are still convinced that they are queerplatonic and romantic exes or something like that but there's a lot they have shared that heavily implies that they aren't.

Okay, now the Phil tag examiner... Idk there was this blog that kept sending people asks anytime they posted something in the Dan and Phil or dnp tags that didn't explicitly mention Phil, and were like "hello this is the Phil tag examiner please keep posts only about Dan out of the Dan and Phil tag" and it was kinda funny to be honest. It stopped after a while idk what happened to them but no one was taking them seriously.

Anyways, I got back into dnp while Dan was on his tour about a year ago, and it's been such a wild year and now is probably like one of the best times to start watching them again there's sooo much new content with the gaming channel and they are being very authentically themselves it's really great.

#dan and phil #dnp #phan #<- for the fandometrics <3 #ask

15 notes · View notes

strapskinkstories · 6 months

Text

Fen becomes a rubber maid and then gets trashed!

Sissy Fen sat down to his computer in the evening on a Friday night, just off work. He looked through his social medias and saw nothing, he put a bowl of instant noodles in the microwave and sighed saying to himself “Wonderful, another boring…” *KERDINK* His laptop chimed. Sissy Fen left the microwave alone and sat at the computer. On it was the following message to his Tumblr.

“Hello Fen, I hope you can possibly meet with me this evening for a full weekend session. I saw your want ad in the oddities and sex work section of the classifieds online and it told me to come message you on here. I’m looking for a rubber covered maid, you said you want to be converted into a rubber covered maid. I have all the clothing and everything, there’s only one stipulation, you have to live in my house wearing the uniform, you will be stored in the uniform like an object. If you at any time fail to clean the house perfectly I reserve the right to administer a punishment like no other. Respond to me if you are serious, if you are a time waster don’t bother, I’m in serious need of a RUBBER MAID SLAVE!”

CC Craigslist Ad: Submissive Rubber Sissy Guy 34M Seeks Live In Slave Arrangement - 34M Uncut, looking for live in slave arrangement, don’t have gear, just want to be permanently rubbered up and never released from it. don’t email me with CL, Tumblr message me at @sissyfen

I feel my heart skip a beat as I read and re-read the message, my cock throbbing as the thought. With barely a seconds thought, I quickly type out a reply.

“Hello, and thank you so much for your message. I am free right now if you can tell me where to go. I would love to be turned into your rubber maid, and happily consent to being stored away while not being used like a true object, as well as any punishment you deem fit. I will surrender myself to your every whim for the chance to be a true rubber object! Please please please come back to me asap!”

I hit send, not truly thinking about what is next, my microwave noodles completely forgotten as I begin to get lost in a spiral of ever deepening fantasy

*BEEP BEEP* Fen snaps out of fantasy as the microwave starts to angrily beep at him. Fen grabs his soggy noodles and sits at the desk, he stares at the screen scrolling through porn. Fen sighs thinking he got hit by a catfisher yet again. Suddenly *KERDINK* the window pops up. It's Master Blunn. Master Blunn shows you his house and says "214 E Poplar Drive, don't be later than 7PM and expect to get dressed and stored away until your workday tomorrow."

I wolf down the soggy noodles in an instant, barely tasting them as I rush to get ready. It’s already 6PM, and Poplar drive is 45 mins at least from my apartment.

I am soon out the door, locking it behind me and rushing to meet the 7PM deadline. I haven’t brought anything with me other than my keys and wallet, my mind filled with thoughts of serving as a true rubber maid for a full weekend.

I finally reach the massive house, knocking on the door at 1 minute past 7

Master Blunn opens the door and says "Hmph, a minute late, you've never been to a doctors office, people show up early to see me. Oh right, well now you know what I do when I'm not here at the mansion, I'm a surgeon. Neurosurgeon to be exact. Master Blunn was actually Dr Albert Blunn, the universities head of neurosurgery. He wore a shiny white labcoat made of latex, beneath it he had on green rubber scrub pants and shirt. Master Blunn said looking at Fen "Before you even ask if I wear my rubber to work, yes, I do all the time, people love seeing me in it and a lot of people love rubber hugs before getting gassed out or IV'd out. I only wash it when someone gets sick, I keep it super clean using a special purple light that doesn't destroy smells, because this rubber smells lovely! Every person who hugs me likes the sweaty sweet salty rubbery smell. Why don't you try giving Dr Blunn the snuggle doctor a hug!?" He opened his arms wide, his scrub shirt dripping sweat onto his pants

I take a sniff, immediately feeling weak at the smell of the latex and rubber, it being the perfect blend of heavenly and just a bit disgusting, before meekly stepping forward towards Master Blunn’s open arms. He is massive, towering over me. I briefly wondering if I have made a mistake coming here so quickly before I am dragged into a glorious sweaty, rubbery hug.

Master Blunn squeezes Fen tightly and says "Come on, who can refuse a sweaty Blunn hug!" He falls forward onto Fen body slamming Fen onto the relatively hard carpeted floor. He lays there pulling his arms tighter and tighter saying "You're gonna suffocate sucking on my sweaty scrub shirt! Either that or I'm gonna feel you orgasm beneath me as I crush your face into my sweaty shirt!"

The breath is forced out of me by the sudden body slam, my gasp to try and draw in more doing nothing but filling my mouth with the sweaty latex. I thrash beneath Master Blunn, though can do nothing more than weakly struggle as I am held firmly beneath him. I feel myself getting light headed as my lungs burn for oxygen, my cock spasming in an involuntary orgasm as I start to black out.

Fen in the rubber dress & apron (Source: Tumblr Generic - @sissyfen)

Master Blunn keeps you in the tight grip, he laughs as you black out. When you black out he injects a small syringe into your neck to keep you asleep. Master Blunn forces your limp body into a thick heavy 30lb latex dress with a 10lb latex apron on over it. He puts 10lb handcuffs on Fen's hands and as he awakens pulls a hood on over his head zipping it shut and locking it along with the dress. Master Blunn holds the keys up to Fen's face and then throws them across the room into the fireplace saying "Orgasm smelling my sweaty scrubs, you become my rubber slave forever, until you mess up. First time you mess up, things get worse, second time things get even worse, third time your life becomes a miserable hell." Master Blunn forces Fen down into a small pit in the floor. He is forced to kneel down with his head pressed against his rubber apron. Master Blunn closes the floor trap door and says "I'll see you in the morning, until then enjoy getting acquainted with the smell of your uniform, I bet you like its smell, if you liked my sweaty work uniform you'll love the dirty maids uniform that I've had every rubber maid wear, I've had over 500 maids in that uniform over the last 30 years. It's never been washed, it's been sweat in pissed in puked in covered in all sorts of filth. Have fun huffing the stink of that apron and dress all night long slave Fen! Tomorrow we can figure out a new name for you."

I let out a moan as the trap door is forced shut, a heavy click heralding the lock, pushing my face even further into the heavy apron, leaving me in a crushed ball position. I can barely even wiggle as I try and call out, but all that escapes is a soft moan.

True to Master Blunn’s word, the Apron and maids uniform are disgusting the smells of piss, sweat and puke overwhelming me in the tight confines, while the sheer weight of the dress, combined with the manacles and my prison mean all I can do is gasp for what little rancid air I can pull in

The night passes very slowly for poor Fen, Master Blunn awakens Fen the next morning by dumping squidgy rotting yogurt fruit and vegetables into the pit, he forces the door shut and says "Enjoy your breafast, enjoy drowning in sticky nasty rotting filth! When you've had enough of drowning you can drink it down and there's your fucking meal you stupid worm! Fucking dumb of you to come here. I have dozens of people stored away, some permanently stored away. You're gonna be my permanent slave to clean the place and eat all of the trash and food that spoils, understand dumb worm!" He pauses for a few minutes staring into Fen's eyes as the gooey yogurt and trash settles around him allowing Master Blunn to pour more in until it's up to Fen's neck

I choke and splutter, fear rising in me as the disgusting mess is poured down onto me, Master Blunn’s words ringing in my ears. I try to mumble and beg for mercy, but all that gets me is a mouthful of the disgusting sour yogurt and other have rotten or partially eaten food. I gag, my eyes filling with tears, but I instantly see that any plea I can make will fall entirely on deaf ears, Master Blunn leering down at me with a sadistic glare.

With a whimper, I try and slurp down more of the disgusting slop, having to stop and wretch every few mouthfuls to stop myself throwing up and making the mess even worse.

“P...Please...” I weakly manage between mouthfuls

Master Blunn laughs, he pours a heavy stinking blue rotting yogurt over Fen's head and forces the lid shut saying "have fun drowning in it, even after you're done drowning you'll stll be suffering breathing it off of your uniform and the apron. When that pit is empty, or when you can't eat any more, scream for me, but I want it at least half empty or you're gonna end up being tossed into a trash compactor and crushed to death, so get eating that nasty sludge worm! After you eat your breakfast it'll be your time to do the yard work!

I struggle through the disgusting mess, forcing myself to eat mouthful after mouthful. More than once I slip and my head goes, and soon I am completely covered in the filthy mess. The stench is awful, but eventually I have managed to eat about three quarters of the slop.

“M...Master Blunn! I’m...finished” I call out, wretching as the smell assaults me yet again

Master Blunn returns. He opens the hatch and forces Fen to stand up and says “Your new name is Sissy. Understand Sissy? Now you go outside and do the yard yard work.” Master Blunn attached a lead chain to the heavy cuffs and dragged Fen outside into the 100 degree heat. He held a manual push mower to him and said “Should take you a good 12 hours. Just come pass out in the dirty workwear bin over there when you’re done. Who cares if a stupid slave like you gets to breathe proper air. Stinking dirty workwear is enough as long as you don’t suffocate.” Master Alex sat on a beach chair sipping lemonade and shouted “If you’re good I’ll let you drink my sweat!” He chuckled wearing a thick leather jacket with no lining against his skin

The sun is unbearable as I start to push the ancient hand mower. It is heavy and stiff, forcing me to put all my weight behind it just to move it. In mere moments I’m drenching in sweat, adding to the awful smell that now clings to me.

For a moment I wonder if I should just run for it, but the heavy manacles force me to stay, let along the heavy rubber dress. As the hours pass, my body screams I protest, forcing me to stop more than once, only to push myself again as I catch a glare from Master Blunn. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of torment, I cut the last blade of grass, crawling over to the dirty workwear bin.

With the last ounce of my strength I open the lid, before recoiling at the stench, greeted by what looks like hundreds of overalls, work boots and thick butchers aprons covered in mud, puke, trash and every other manner of filth.

I try and move away from the bin, but before I can, I feel Master Blunn grabbing me from behind

Master Blunn forces Fen into the bin. He grabs the collar of the dress and pulls the dress up over Fen’s head zipping it closed and locking it. He pulls dozens of the dirty overalls over Fen and buries Fen up to his chin saying “Feel good I bet. Fuckin boiling in stink. Smell that nasty dress! It’s all you will breathe for the night. All you get to inhale is the smell in that dirty workwear bin. Some of that shit not been washed in 50 years. Fen heard a loud chain lock click shut and then heard Master Blunns footsteps fade to silence. Right then and there Fen knew he was totally alone for the whole night

I let out a sob, trying to move to get any sort of fresh air. Instead, something shifts within the pile, collapsing underneath me and sending me sprawling onto my back, the pile of rancid work clothes tumbling over on top of me, burying me fully. I try to scream, but all I manage to do is get a filthy apron lodged in my mouth

The taste is awful, the industrial rubber coated with piss and sweat, and forcing my mouth to remain open so anything else can dribble in.

Utterly exhausted, I slump as much as I am able against the crushing weight of the clothes, unable to move more than an inch, struggling for each breath. Sleep never comes, the minutes passing with agonising, tortuous slowness

Master Blunn returns the next day to the bin. He looks down and sees that Fen had made the gear collapse around him. Master Blunn rolled over a massive keg of sour yogurt mixed with beer and poured the pink concoction into the bin and said “Have fun. Hope you can eat it all and you don’t drown. Dead people aren’t fun to play with. I like my captives to be alive!” Master Blunn slammed the lid shut and kicked the bin saying “Start eating garbage disposal. Think that’s gonna be your permanent job. Don’t fail at it or I’ll reassign you from one job to another until I reduce you to nothing but a fuckin’ apron!”

I let out a gargling scream as the disgusting yogurt pours into my wedged open mouth, unable to do anything other than swallow it while still trapped under the mountain of clothes.

Even with everything, and to my shame, I’m still rock hard beneath my dress, the torment making it strain painfully, even as I am unable to even get near it to relieve myself

Master Blunn laughs hearing the gurgling sounds coming from the bin. He said "See you tonight, I'll have to get you out of there and move you elsewhere unless you wanna get crushed in the landfill"

I’m completely spent at the words, sobbing around the vile filth surrounding me, crushing the day I ever responded to that message

Master Blunn returns that night, he pulls Fen out of the bin and helps him walk into the house. He says "Thought you were gonna get a reprieve from nasty stinky crushing? Nah, I got something just as bad if not worse for you!" He lead Fen into an ABDL nursery, he opened the diaper chute and threw Fen head first in yelling "Have fun suffering buried amongst several thousand piss and shit filled diapers and plastic pants!" Fen fell into a big pit of diapers PVC pants and PVC clothes, with each move he sank deeper. He could faintly hear Master Blunn say "Eat at least five gross diapers clean and I'll let you move to your next slave task stupid slut!"

...I scream and cry as the diapers cling to me, the stench of piss and other filled diapers mixing with rubber into an unholy stench. I puke into the pile, which only makes it worse, and for close to an hour I just lie there, unable to contemplate moving. Finally, I slowly try and do what Master has said, though my stomach refuses to aid me, barely allowing me to get through three of the disgusting soggy masses when the lid of the diaper chute is opened the next morning

Master Blunn says "Shame, you couldn't eat five diapers to save yourself. I guess you actually do want that twisted fantasy you had posted on GarbageBagged years ago to happen to you. Do you remember that fucked up fantasy, do you remember wanting to be thrown away with a bunch of dirty overalls and dirty winter coats? It's a good thing I have a whole bin of filthy foul dirty roadworkers jackets to throw you away with! Like the worthless trash you are!"

Master Blunn dragged Fen out of the diaper bin and dragged him up the stairs dripping in filth and sweat. Master Blunn threw Fen into a large bin of tar grease mud cow shit and sweat soaked hiviz workwear

“No, please!” I scream, floundering in the slime, trying and failing to stand up.

“M-Master Blunn, I don’t want this anymore! I thought I did, but I just want to go home! It was just a fantasy!!!”

I grab onto the side of the bin, the tar acting like glue, adding to my dresses weight so I can barely move, let alone haul myself out of the bin.

“Please.” I whimper, looking up at you through the cow shit smeared across my face

Master Blunn laughs at Fen and pushes him back into the bin, this time he pushes him in face first making sure to smash his face into a grimy gritty hiviz vest. The vest was soaked in machine oil and mud along with SWEAT. Fen made bubbling sounds as Master Blunn pressed him down harder and harder. Master Blunn climbed in on top of Fen and stood on top of him, crushing his body down into the dirty workwear saying "Fuckin sink! Fuckin sink below all of the workwear, fuckin drown in filthy workwear! After I'm done with you you're gonna be sewn in the clear pocket of one of these vests, you'll be forever suffering in a stinky thick PVC hell surrounded by gooey rotting hiviz!"

I flail as best as I can but it’s in vain, my strength utterly spent from the torment. My mouth is filled with the disgusting muddy trash as I wonder if this is how it all ends, my vision beginning to go dark as I begin to pass out. Master Blunn just laughs, pushing harder, already reaching for the massive trash bag beside the disgusting trash

Master Blunn holds Fen down until his struggles stop, he picks him up by the neck and lifts him into a massive rubber bag, he packs the bag full of dirty vests and says "See you in a few months, the compression will slowly shrink you to no larger than a gum ball, it will be extremely slow, painful, hot and stinky. Goodbye!" He left, the vacuum turned on, the bag crushed poor Fen in the dirty workwear for 3 minutes then released him for a minute then repeated the cycle, 3 minutes on 1 minute off without ending. This is how Fen will spend the entire week, being slowly crushed to a new size

For an entire week my world is nothing but agony and disgusting slop, my body being crushed again and again. True to Masters words I feel myself shrinking, the sludge pressing in on all sides, until I’m little more than a mound of flesh, my limbs useless and atrophied, while my skin has absorbed the gunge around it, ensuring that I will never escape the disgusting smells that I am trapped with now.

If I had thought I was helpless before I know better now unable to move even if I was completely removed from the now far oversized dress and disgusting sweaty work clothes

Now trapped inside of the dress Fen was truly reduced to nothing. Master Blunn picks up the dress and pisses into it before jacking off into it, he has 500 other men jerk off into it and then he rolls the dress into a vacuum bag and vacuum seals it saying "Poor fucker can't die, bet you want to though, fucking crushed in all that nasty crusty stinking rubber about to be crushed even harder!" Master Blunn turned on the vacuum and walked away leaving Fen there as the dress compacted around his helpless body

I scream as best I can, utterly helpless yet in agony all the same. My scream is instantly stolen by the vacuum, the air sucked from my lungs as the disgusting slime and filthy clothes as pulled ever closer to my face and body. I want to struggle, I want to die, but I can’t do either, so I just suffer for Master’s amusement

Master Blunn leaves the vacuum running for a whole hour. He then wraps Fens poor compressed body in thirty heavy thick quilts, he then forces the massive roll of quilts into a 10mm thick vacuum bag. The ultra heavy thick vacuum bag is sealed, the vacuum is turned on and Master Blunn yells "If you can hear me crushed inside there, enjoy being slowly crushed til your body is flattened in filth! Fuckin filth filling your lungs stomach, every inch of your body filled with filth!"

I can hear Master, though only just, the terror setting in anew as my breath is stolen once more. The weight of the quilts crushes into me, while the vacuum squeezes out every last drop of sweat and filth, each one seeming to find its way to the centre of the mass; my ever flattening body. After mere hours, it’s done, Sissy Fen now little more than a disk of flattened flesh, yet impossibly I’m still alive, my eyes wide and my lungs burning for air that I haven’t tasted seemingly for lifetimes

Master Blunn unzipped the bag 100 years later, he unwrapped the quilts revealing the dress with Sissy Fen wrapped inside of it. Master Blunn unrolled the crusty stiff dress and said "You thought it's been horrible? You don't know horrible!" Master Blunn and 100 mn walked in, they all shat into the bag letting their thick sticky shit flow into the dress. Master Blunn tied the dress shut and said "How's it feel drowning in shit along with all the other filth, about to be crushed to death in shit!" Master Blunn folded the dress violently and tightly, he then folded it in half several times. He wrapped the dress in 30 more quilts, making it 60 quilts total. He violently and brutally folded the quilts forcing them into the massive vacuum bag. Master Blunn turned on the vacuum and yelled "I'm welding the door shut and leaving the vacuum running, it'll be a long slow cruel death for you. Have fun dying, could take thousands of years, but your death will be here, sucking the shit soaked rubber dress and all the other nasty filth you are encased in!

I try and talk, but my mouth has long since fused into an open scream, once packed with sweat and now packed with human shit from hundreds of men. My body burns with constant agony of hundreds of years of crushing pressure, leaving me wishing for nothing more than death

Unbeknownst to me however, death would never come, no release permitted to Blunn’s slaves. My immortality had been ensured from the moment he had first injected me all those millennia ago. Now, as centuries turn, I become nothing more than a forgotten footnote, the building slowly buried by time, leaving me forever buried and crushed beneath the shit of my betters. After being told I might die I never did, I lay there 10,000 years later, still sucking the rotting rubber tasting the shit piss cum sweat and all the other congealing rotting filth around me, knowing that nothing will change as I slowly sink deeper and deeper into the earth, the temperature getting warmer as time passes. I know in some hundred thousand years, maybe, maybe not, my body will be liquified and burned up in the core of the earth, that or I’ll live in that molten magma, crushed the hardest, unable to smell, only able to feel the searing hot crushing grip around my worthless atrophied paralyzed body. Now I am nothing but a worthless bag of flesh to the world, I may as well be dead.

#fantasy #stinky #sweaty #stink torture #breathplay #breath control #suffocation #crushing #permanent entrapment #extreme stink torture #buried alive #buried in diapers #rubber dress #maid uniform

9 notes · View notes

clairelsonao3 · 10 months

Text

Writer Q&A Tag Game

Thank you to @winterandwords for tagging me in this one! I love Q&As, I don't care what the questions are!

1. What motivates you to write?

The pursuit of fame and fortune.

Just kidding. No, in all honesty, there was a time when I was obsessed with writing for the market. I still want to make money with my fiction someday, I'm not gonna lie. But actually, it's always been about telling stories that I know no one else will tell and that need to be told. If I'm that invested in a story, nothing will stop me from finishing it.

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

This is the last section of the opening chapter of The Adored. And it's going to get changed, so don't get too attached. But the gist of it has stayed through all drafts:

CW: Mention of teen females (consensually?) groping a teen male:

Hell, before this year, he’d never left the state of Minnesota. He and Afton didn’t eat pie on a boat on their first date, either. They didn’t even have a first date. But he’s let the world believe it, along with a million other lies that look pretty under pastel filters and amazing in 200 characters or less. Lies that dance center stage, that come alive under the lights. The lies are Afton’s truth. Thayer’s truth. Social media’s truth.

But they aren’t ours. Micah's and my truth is different. It’s underground, rotting in basements and prison cells, and all the dark places he still prays never to have to go back to. It’s about the night I saw Afton with a man in a dark Jaguar that turns Micah pale when he sees it, about the chains that still choke his heart and soul. It’s the jagged puzzle whose pieces he relied on me to put together, then told me never to reveal — the whats, but not the whys.

It’s why we’re really quitting.

But there’s one last truth. It’s what he’s trusting me to find. Me, the gawky giraffe in borrowed Balenciaga, with a bass she can barely play. The blurry face in the background. The tacked-on name at the bottom of the story. Bandmate Isley Nash.

I want to ask him, why me?

But before I can, it’s over. He throws himself backward off the stage. His body arches through space like a supernova. This is the moment they’ve been waiting for. They caress him, groping his hair, his legs, his junk. His eyes close. He’s lost. He’s theirs. For them, there’s only tonight.

And unless I find that truth, tonight is all there will ever be.

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

Micah (see above) is a reluctant teen rock star, a defiant rebel, a deadpan snarker, a (probable) murder victim, and my OG sad boi, so I'm always going to go with him.

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Editing. Drafting is trying to make something out of nothing, which is torture. Editing, meanwhile, is sculpting something you create (which is almost always terrible to start off with) into something good, which is fun and fulfilling. I will vomit unreadable, ungrammatical crap onto the page just so there's something there to edit when I go back. For me, that's where 99% of the real work of writing gets done.

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Dialogue! I think my dialogue is often funny and entertaining. Can I say that? I'm saying that.

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Getting tagged to fill out Q&As like this and ramble about myself ad nauseum! No, seriously, the community I've found on Tumblr has amazingly changed my life in the best way -- and I've really only been here a few months! Here, I've found talented writers, engaged readers, and all-around wonderful human beings, who do not only NOT judge me for my bizarre tastes, but in many cases actually share them. Finding a community like that is rare enough in the internet hellscape where we often find ourselves, let alone IRL, and I will be grateful for it always.

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

I've reluctantly come around to Grammarly, even though I snobbishly thought I didn't need it. Oh, and chatGPT. No, I'm kidding. I have tried it out, though. (Haven't we all?)

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

CW for discussing slavery in a clinical, dispassionate way (IDK, might be a trigger for some).

I've long thought you can't really understand or write about slavery without understanding the basic economics behind it, whether historically or in a fictional context. In most fiction with institutionalized slavery, it's either completely controlled by a dystopian government or by one single, massive company. To me, neither seemed realistic, and I think this is where this world differs from other related ones. In the world of GSNBTR, slavery is like any other sector under capitalism: it's multiple businesses of various sizes and with different niches competing against each other for customers, while being regulated (relatively lightly) by the government (as lobbied for by special interests, of course). And that also means thinking hard about the kinds of roles slaves would be likely to fill in a modern society built on that system, where they come from (likely many different places), who would own, trade, and manage them (whether government, corporations, or individuals) and how they would be likely to be used -- ie., it's not just domestic servants and sex workers, in fact, those are likely the minority of slaves. The majority are fast-food workers, landscapers, cleaners, dishwashers, farmworkers, general laborers, etc. etc. I suspect some are also used in the entertainment industry in some capacity (i.e. some actors/musicians/athletes are literally owned by movie studies/record companies/sports leagues), but I haven't really puzzled this out in detail. This stuff isn't necessarily fun to think about, but it's a must in a story like this, and I definitely did spend a lot of time thinking about it.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Are you writing what you really want to write? Always write what you want, not what you think you should. And if you can't write just for yourself, write for just one person. The rest of your audience will come naturally.

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

I have to of course start with the talented writers whose work was so amazing it drew me in and got me to stay: @little-peril-stories @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

And then, to my astonishment, they reached out to support me and my own work, at times in ways far beyond anything I ever could have imagined. 💕

And then! On various levels, I've been lucky enough to know and interact with @i-can-even-burn-salad @whither-wander-whump @rickie-the-storyteller @mysticstarlightduck @painful-pooch @tabswrites @burntcoffeewhump, and @winterandwords!

And there are so many more great folks that I'm only just starting to discover, such as the following I'll gently tag (as well as OPEN TAG for anyone I mentioned above -- since you're already here, after all -- and anyone else reading this! 😂)

@romanceandshenanigans @digital-chance

#tag game #q&a #my writing #writeblr #wip: the adored #gsnbtr

18 notes · View notes

sootonthecarpet · 2 years

Text

hate how just looking at things online is like an inherently loaded economic and political choice now. do I want to familiarize myself with what the bigots that endanger my country are saying by checking out primary sources? I'm giving them 'clicks', boosting their ratings and potentially encouraging an algorithm to share their content more widely.

if I go to watch them speak on youtube they may make money directly off of this. if I download an ad blocker to get around this, I am taking away money from small time marginalized creators if I watch any of their videos without disabling it. if I want to read a news article that implies people like me are less than human, I have to accept that I am giving them the positive feedback of my engagement JUST by clicking on the link. depending how I am serviced this link (such as through an automated rec feed that came bundled with a default web browser) I run the risk of reinforcing to my personal device that I would like to be served more links from news sites that run stories implying people like me are less than human, rather than that every few months I will grudgingly observe bigotry with the intention of better guarding myself against it in the future.

every decision I make to look at or avoid something on most major websites, especially news, video platforms, and any social media site but tumblr, has to take into account not just "do I want to have seen this" but "do I want to concretely make this thing more popular and/or leave a trail of stored information registering me as somebody who wants to observe this thing?" I'm not on tiktok (I don't even log in to youtube) but the way the algorithm there works, prioritizing content you spend the most time looking at (or perhaps unable to look away from?) rather than content you mark yourself as 'liking', is something right out of one of my paranoid delusions.

the push for a more profitable internet is one of the driving forces behind our online panopticon and I've seen very little discussion about how this like. automatically makes the very basic act of trying to get context on the way bigots who want you dead are drumming up support into an action of direct support for bigots. yes, I know there are adblocks and archived page versions and all kinds of clever little workarounds. but when did we need a workaround to be able to see with our eyes without funding nazis? I could, let's say, walk into a library and pull a copy of mein kampf off the shelf and skim through it where I stood without having at any point provided money, validation, or a 'boost' in publicity to nazis active in my country, and potentially without anyone else becoming aware that I am reading a copy of mein kampf. if I wanna read a fox article because I know they're a wildly popular news network that has been on the cutting edge of american bigotry my whole life? I have validated fox news's siterunners with my pageview, left an enormous digital paper trail, potentially encouraged my device to show me more fox news articles, and potentially provided fox news with ad revenue they can use to more efficiently spread their dangerous lies and half-truths.

faced with meaningful and legitimate calls to de-platform hateful voices on an immediate interpersonal level, and sentiments like 'here are screenshots/wayback links, please don't give them the clicks' as the only pushback against this constant tracking and leveraging of our viewership (to say nothing of how often content creators rely on widespread outrage and hatewatching to gain engagement that their fans alone could never provide, and the subsequent pleas to avoid watching any bigoted content whatsoever lest you fall prey to their outrage marketing), the logical choice in the absence of someone else offering an easy workaround begins to look like self imposed ignorance and isolation; unless we have a great degree of computer literacy, or hacker friends with the same who can handhold us through our entire online presence, we are forced to either resort to knowingly funding bigots (and potentially marking ourselves as one), or to refusing to arm ourselves with knowledge altogether. YEAUGHHH 💢

183 notes · View notes

ramayantika · 9 months

Text

Random free gyan for chotus here

I took time off from social media, news, everything for a while. I logged out of my main insta page. I used the internet only to watch lectures, dance and writing. I have come back but I no longer login to tumblr like I used to nor do I use my other accounts for Instagram that much. My main account is still logged out since 27th August. Hence, here are some few things I discovered/realized

1. Navigating through loneliness, FOMO, and restlessness about your work/future/friends etc

I took a drop year in 2022, gave entrance exams till July and I have now secured a college. All this while I barely talked to my school friends who themselves were busy in their courses and college activities. So it does feel sad and a little depressing seeing everyone do other stuff while you are here in a small room studying the same 11th 12th books.

Then I made a new insta account once again after my exam dates neared so I would reconnect with everyone again. Does it happen so easily? Not at all. I was still alone. I would like reels, stories and posts but apart from that nothing except a few calls from friends.

That did give me a desperation to share everything about myself. No one to talk to, no friend nearby and you have so much to talk. I remember staying late up and writing god knows what on my closed stories, ranting about my crying episodes every damn thing. Then after getting a college I was still feeling lost, thinking what to do ahead regarding my career plans. I would then chat with whoever I found from school groups or online friends groupchats late at night but a lot of it was just shallow interaction because I wanted to pass time and not utilize time. We all write about the strange cringe feeling we get after oversharing about ourselves, put up memes for it, but do we ever work on it.

Yes, you can shitpost on tumblr, reblog those relatable posts but you have to put in work to control yourself. And after a while I was fed up. I knew I needed to change it. I needed to put a line over myself which made me disable and log out social media accounts. I came back home after completing my admission related work at my college, finally deciding to find my own worth, fix my restless hopeless personality for wanting to share everything on the first online app I get. This doesn't mean that you stop posting on tumblr. I literally wrote in all caps about savitha Sastry, dance stuff, college, yes. But if you are someone who is alone preparing for exams, away from friends, do not give in to that strong desperate urge to put up everything for everyone to read; to share every bit of it to the new person you made friends online.

I have had my own share of FOMO. Not knowing what I am doing with myself while seeing others doing internships, attending competitions, fests and trips while I sit here scrolling right to left. We are all online most of the time, but it is really necessary to not attach your sense of worth to social media.

Some of you are younger to me, still in school, and maybe you all aren't at that stage now, you all can be tomorrow for preparing for entrances or other stuff that will demand you to be away from social events for a while, to have a rigorous academic schedules. It's sad, but that's how it is. Maybe some change can be brought later for young minds to still have a healthy routine that combines studies as well as other activities.

If you all ever get this dreadful feeling wondering where you are, what are you doing, is it all even worth it. I need you all to take a deep breath. Yes, it is worth it. Yes, you are at the right place, and yes you are learning at this age so you are doing good. It's okay. Your attempts, your hardwork will always get you 'success.' failure is a path to success, and all that disappointment, sadness etc will exist. You will have endless doubts over yourself but please remember that all of it was worthy. You will definitely see in some later period that whatever you underwent was all worth it.

But what about my lost time, lost friends didi?

You know little ones, friends change with age. Some stay intact for a long time while some move away and sometimes you grow out of it. Sometimes you will also reconnect with those friends from class with whom you barely had any conversation but later you see them talking with you and you realize that they are fun too.

And about lost time... I did this mistake too. You all never lose time. You aren't ahead in the race nor are you behind. You are where you have to be. You will get your desired friends, colleges and life. But to reach there, that 'lost' time teaches you patience. And to learn patience, one needs to learn how to wait through hopeless situations and endless moments of despair where you want to give up. But that's the catch, if you give up, you don't learn it anymore.

This is why for every thing that sometimes goes wrong in your life at this delicate stage where you all are growing up, I want you all to be kind to yourself. Take a deep breath, and indulge yourself in your favourite activity or close your eyes and actually meditate or just listen to music depending on your mood. Yes, the same advice everyone gives, but it works. You all, me, everyone needs discipline bacha. Wherever you see yourself, be it career, financial stuff or relationships, one needs to learn discipline and patience. You need to learn how to control the mind because it's going to be very easy to fall into a mindless scrolling session, or giving in to other distracting temptations.

The mind loves chaos. It easily jumps to doubtful thoughts. In the end, from this age you need to learn to control the mind and take steps to be your best self, best adult figure for your younger self to look upto. Jin posts ko reblog karte ho ki I want to be the woman, my 10 year self would look upto etc uske liye effort time sab lagana padega.

Meine bhi voh memes pinterest posts like reblog ki hai that were about existential crisis, the absolute dread of not doing anything in life and other stuff that are actually problematic in the long run for the mind. Kahin na kahin tum jab inko like reblog karte ho they do retain inside your head and tum vaise hi mind ko train karte ho.

Aaj jee neet cuet ke liye akele sabse durr rehna hai, kal badme masters ke liye wait karna padega ek saal ya phir baki exams. Uske liye vapas doston se durr, ek room mein padhai, phone kamm, shaadiyan trips band hoti rahegi. We all need to take life in a simple and easy way too. And sometimes these problems have solutions that you all know deep inside but choose to procrastinate or not take a step towards it.

In the end all of you chotus, just understand one thing ki life badi hai. Aaj yeh nahi hai kuch mahine baad sab milega vapas. Phir kuch pal baad tumhe vapas se akele rehna padega yeh phase sabka hota rehta hai. Rona aarha hai ro lo, akelapan lagega but iske liye jaisa meine pehle kaha tumhe hi khudko kehna hoga ki mujhe apne life mein abhi bahut kuch karna hai yeh sab usi laksh tak le jayegi. I know you all are wonderful, and capable of so many things. You all need to wait for a while, and work hard. Tumhare friends sab tumhe badme milenge humesha aisa boring akela phase zindagi bhar nahi rehta aur nahi hai humesha Bunny from yjhd types happening hogi.

Jab yeh sab permanent nahi hai toh bas mann ko samjhao ki apne kaam pe dhyan do. Tumblr pe bhadas nikaldi kabhi ek baar kisiko overshare kar diya theek hai chalta hai par isse apni personality mein pura entwine nahi kar daalo.

You all are made for so much for. There's so much in life that you all will slowly experience, good and bad everything. You all are growing up and I wish you all the best for it.

#samridhi speaks #desiblr #log out maar rahi for now because I have dance class in an hour #this is for chotu mutuals who are in school #wish you all the best once again aur zindagi badi hai sirf vahi same dost aur same school life teenage life hi nahi hai agar mil gaya sab #acha toh good and if not toh aur bhi achi chizein wait kar rahi hai

7 notes · View notes

throwaway-chi · 2 years

Text

Dappervolk PSA

Note: Please do not harass, dox, threaten, or attack the owner and staff of Dappervolk. Not only would you be committing a punishable crime, but also, these are individuals who’re still deserving of basic human decency.

Constructive criticism is beneficial; inflammatory comments are not.

Don’t publicly share this post on Dappervolk unless you want to risk punishment. If anyone inquires about the “PSD sabotage” or “Nazi name,” feel free to privately share this link: https://throwaway-chi.tumblr.com/post/693539038348673024/dappervolk-psa

This PSA is only here to inform people of matters from the site owner’s public past as 1) they’re still relevant to this day, and 2) so that users can make an informed choice regarding their continued support of DV.

Some people may or may not view the following instances as controversial or scandalous. I encourage you to make your own judgment.

(If I’m ever banned, all I have to say is this is democracy manifest. Ta-ta and farewell.)

The PSD Sabotage

Anji—also known as Quislings, Quisling, Quisles, Quis, Syncline, Sync, and Snailio—is the site owner and main artist of Dappervolk.

Considered a big name artist on a petsite called Aywas, Anji sabotaged the PSDs that a user named Ellie was meant to receive in 2014. An apology was never issued.

For context, read:

Aywas Confessions

3ammicrosleeps

Response to Synclines’ Public Statement

Another Response to Synclines

YouTube Comments

Volkconfessions

In 2021, my friends and I reached out to Ellie to get her side of the story. She confirmed this is all true. She never received the original PSDs, so she had to start them over from scratch over the span of 1 to 2 years. As she was badly harassed by Sync’s group, she’s afraid that the newfound attention will send her a fresh, new wave of harassment. Ellie requested that we do not share what she said to us verbatim.

Notes:

Anji was already an adult in her 20s in 2014, and by 2022, she should be in her 30s. This is relevant, as age is often used to excuse certain behaviors.

Since people have asked how this relates to Dappervolk and what should be the resolution: I think it's still acceptable for Anji to apologize and acknowledge what happened in 2014 on her social media, on whatever platform she chooses to use. She committed the PSD sabotage as a paid site artist, so taking accountability is the professional course of action. In 2020, she apologized on her tumblr blog for using a racial slur back in 2012, so in my opinion, there is no time limit for apologies and for acknowledging a past wrongdoing. Even if this has "nothing" to do with Dappervolk because it all happened on Aywas, it's still relevant to her credibility as a professional site artist.

Quisling Name Controversy

Anji publicly went by the pseudonyms Quisling and Quislings for several years.

I can't get over Quis' username being that. It's the name of a literal nazi who sold out Norway during WW2, it's extremely insensitive to see that name used in a positive connotation.

i was looking up dappervolk the other day, and was VERY taken aback by the dev being named quisling everywhere. yes, it is taught in schools over here, and more than that, quisling traitored his country so hard that his name became a synonym for traitor to your country. it’s in the dictionaries. it’s not something i would’ve built a brand around, or at least put a disclaimer about somewhere. it has pretty negative connotations.

In 2012, a family member looked up the dictionary definition of Quisling. (Source)

In 2015, someone informed Anji of her pseudonym’s association with Vidkun Quisling, a Nazi collaborator, which she acknowledged but laughed off. (Source)

In 2020, I brought up the controversial name on DV and suggested changing it. My thread was promptly removed, and I was issued a message from staff. In the message, the head moderator asked me to use the Ticket Desk to file my complaint. But two months after my ticket was left on pending, staff informed me "this user’s onsite name is simply 'Quis’ and it is outside of our jurisdiction to be policing usernames offsite.” (Full Text and Screenshots)

As of this writing, her onsite player name is still Quis (#4867) and she continues to use variations of this name on various platforms. Quisling being shortened to Quis is like Lady Antebellum being shortened to Lady A.

Additional Controversies

1) Anji lists Patricia Highsmith, a historically-known racist and anti-semite, as her favorite author on her DeviantArt page.

Original Ask

Quislings dA Captures (Wayback Machine)

Quisles dA Captures (Wayback Machine)

Wayback Machine Context

Reader Response

2) "Volk” from the site name, Dappervolk, on its own, is pretty innocuous; however, it was often used by Nazis in nationalist slogans and various other avenues such as the car company Volkswagen (which was founded by a Nazi group). It’s mostly that given the origins/associations of the ‘Quisling/Quis’ names gives the use of volk an extra side eye.

Volk (Wikipedia Article)

15 notes · View notes

imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Text

𝒖𝒏𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅

this is the more extended version of my unwanted drabble, thank you to @jessybarnes for some of the ideas. I hope you all enjoy.

summary - steve tricked you before kidnapping you, leaving you locked away in the basement as you begin to mess with his mind.

warning - angst, mentions of killing, mentions of sadness, mentions of being trapped.

the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

“What? You want me to meow or something?”

Steve sat there shocked, staring at you with wonder. It’s as if you had no care and weren’t freaking out like others. He stares into your eyes, seeing nothing there, and his head tilts as he looks at you. “No..?” He looks confused, wondering. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t.” You state, turning your head back to the wall and staring at it. You miss how his eyebrows shoot up. “So… When are you going to kill me?” You pick at your nails, continuing to feel stupid for thinking someone like him would actually want you. You turn your head when you don’t hear a response and tilt your head as he stares at you, confused. “That’s why you tricked me, right? To kill me, you didn’t exactly pretend to like me, drug me, and tie me up in your basement because you’re madly in love with me, and that’s the only way you thought you could get me.”

“You’re not afraid? Why aren’t you screaming, crying or swearing at me?” He’s so confused, getting closer to you, kneeling before you as he looks into your eyes. “Why is there nothing? You’re so empty.”

You blink, staring at him blankly. “If you don’t mind, ‘Steve’. I would like not to talk and for you to just get to the point.” You move away from him, crawling up the bed and lying on your back as you stare at the ceiling. “I’ll be here… Waiting patiently for my death. Not like I have anywhere to go.”

You let out a sigh when he left the room, one side of your mind begging for him to stay and the other staying quiet. You couldn’t let yourself fall for his stupid face again, and you didn’t want to beg someone to love you. You wanted that to come naturally. But you don’t think that will ever happen because… You were you, and people didn’t like what they saw.

Steve was curious, and you were like a puzzle to him. He had never met anyone so void of emotion and missed the woman he met. You seemed so happy and carefree, sure. He did notice that you were more closed off and didn’t seem to let him so close. He wanted to change that. He needed some sort of reaction, some sort of emotion. How can you be so calm during all this? Steve left you alone for a while, barely acknowledging the other women locked up, barely acknowledging his wife and kids, or the women he promised dates to. You were occupying his mind, and it was driving him crazy. He had destroyed most of the upstairs, trying anything to get you out of his head. He couldn’t take it. The look in your eyes, your words, it was all getting to him.

Steve remembered your dates and how you told him about the books you used to write. He recalled that you said it was the only thing that made you genuinely feel something, and an idea sparked. Steve gathered a notebook, some pens, and some food and water before making his way down to the basement. He knocks on the door before sliding it open and smiling at you. “I brought you something that I think you’ll enjoy.” You continue to stare at the wall, your eyes tired. Steve sighs, softly walking over and placing the items before you. “I’m trusting you with these pens, but if you do something—”

“You’ll what? Kill me?” You scoff, eyes slowly moving to connect with his. “That was already your plan, and this would make the killing go faster.” You roll your eyes, barely looking at the things he placed before you. “Did you need anything else? Because I’d rather you just hurry this along.” Your head turns again, ignoring him because what was the point of giving him any more attention?

“Why are you behaving like this? I bought you some of the things I remember you talked about. You should at least feel happy?” Your head falls back as you let out a laugh, startling Steve, who stares at you as if you’ve grown three heads. “What? What’s so funny?!” Why wouldn’t you just submit?! Why were you so different from the others?! It bewildered Steve how you could sit so emotionless and then laugh as if he had said something funny.

“You. Do you think giving me a notebook and pens would suddenly make me happy? Did you not stop to think that you are the problem? I have already come to terms with the fact that no one will ever love me, that you only pretended so you could kidnap me and kill me. So why aren’t you killing me?! Why are you taking your sweet time?!” You snap, struggling against the chains as you stand and move toward Steve, punching his chest. “Kill me! Kill me, goddammit!” You scream, your eyes are still emotionless, yet your words hold so much power.

Steve holds your wrists, stopping you from hitting him. He stares down at you, wondering why his heart clenches like this. “No.” He moves away, needing to get out of this room and get away from you as you make his head fuzzy. He watches as you stare at him in disbelief.

“So, what… I’m not good enough to love and not good enough to kill either?” You sink back onto the bed, your eyes staring at the wall as you realise you will never be good enough for anything or anyone. Steve quickly leaves the room, going through the house, destroying more things on the way. How could you get into his head like this? No one else had done it, so why were you so different?

You sat there, staring at the untouched notebook before slowly reaching for it, and as you grabbed the pen, the words began to flow out of you and onto the page. Everything you felt deep inside was coming out through stories. Not feeling in the mood to eat or drink, you spend most of the day and night writing. As many more days pass, Steve comes in and out with more gifts and food. You continued to ignore him, not knowing how to react, waiting for him to decide when it was your time to die finally. But the day never came. You think a month had passed, but you weren’t so sure. Steve walked into your room, undoing the chains and holding out his hand. “C’mon. I’ve prepared us some dinner.” You stare at him warily before slowly standing and following him. He leads you to the kitchen and pulls out the chair for you.

“Why am I out here?” You sit, tapping the table, watching him place the food onto the plates, not daring to touch it as Steve sits across from you.

“I’ve come to realise something, and at first, it scared me. You’re different from the rest.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m serious. Do you know how confusing this is for me? You’ve taken over my mind, and I can’t focus on anything else.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I’ve stopped you from tricking other women into believing you love them.” Your eyes roll again, leaning back into the chair. “Do you need a tissue?” You pick up the napkin beside your plate, offering it out to him.

Steve stares at you blankly, his eye twitching as he’s stuck between wanting to strangle you and make love to you. “No, I do not need a tissue. I’m trying to tell you that I feel something for you.” He’s startled again as you laugh.

“You feel something for me?” You feel tears prick your eyes as you continue to laugh. “Oh, god. That’s probably the funniest thing I’ve heard. I think you are delusional.” You shake your head, and your laughter slowly dies down. Your eyes connect with him, and you stare. “You’ve already got me here. You don’t need to keep lying to make yourself feel better.” You continue to tap on the table. “So… When am I going to die?”

“You aren’t. I’m keeping you alive.”

“Oh, great. Fantastic. Sounds so fun to be alive and kept locked away in a basement for the rest of my life. Good plan.” You give a little clap and throw him a fake smile. But deep down, your stomach twisted, and your heart dropped. This was worse than waiting to die. Now you would be locked away, unloved, and eventually wither away. Your expression on the outside stayed void of any emotion.

“No, you will stay up here. With me.”

You wished you had never even gone to that stupid market. You wished you had never believed Steve’s stupid words or smile. How could you be so stupid to believe someone would ever choose you?

You were unwanted.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

359 notes · View notes

sisterssafespace · 2 years

Note

I cannot stop stalking my ex fiancé online and his new girlfriend, I know this is a sin but I don’t know how to stop can you please give me some tips

:')

When I first received this ask I thought ' I am the last person that can help with this 😅 ' so I had to seek help from my sisters.

They suggested to do a social media detox for a long while until you'd stop thinking of them and to obviously unfollow (or even block) them everywhere. - Though I know from experience that it is not easy, it is not just a switch you can turn off in your brain. Also sometimes on social media (especially on Tumblr) you can block someone and still check their page. Ugh. Another recommendation was to keep busy and work out. But it is deeper than this. The decision and the commitment to stop needs to come from within. I remember having a conversation with my therapist about this same situation, because years later I couldn't stop. She said that it has become an obsession to me. And that it was more about me than about them. That it didn't mean that I still had feelings, or that they still seem special or interesting to me, it was just something my brain got sorta addicted to doing. And I had to cut that addiction. It was about me. And that actually helped me stop. I am not going to lie, it wasn't easy, I would still get the urge to type the username and check the page, but I no longer acted on my impulse.

However, I am not saying you have an obsession too, to each of us their different situation, what I am saying is : this is about you not about them. You are obviously still hurt, with a hint of jealousy. To feel hurt is acceptable and understanable, to feel jealous is not. Prophet Muhammad ﷺ warned us saying "Do not hate one another, and do not be jealous of one another".

Now, the main idea here is that by stalking them even though you yourself admitted that it is a sin - Allah swt said in surat Al Hujurat "O you who have believed, avoid much [negative] assumption. Indeed, some assumption is sin. And do not spy or backbite each other. Would one of you like to eat the flesh of his brother when dead? You would detest it. And fear Allah ; indeed, Allah is Accepting of repentance and Merciful." {Qur'an 49:12}.

You know what's the worst part? You are only inflicting more pain upon yourself. Why would you subject yourself to this torture my dear? Do you think Allah swt would want you to suffer like this? The pain of being rejected or betrayed or left, that's something that will go away with time. One day you will wake up and it will hurt less and less, until one day it won't hurt anymore and it won't matter anymore. But the pain and the heat of jealousy, and probably envy, that you are causing yourself on purpose, that's from Shaytan. Shaytan wants you to disobey Allah swt and to hurt yourself endlessly like this. Are you gonna give in? I think you could be stronger than this. You don't deserve to put yourself through this. You are far more precious and far more valuable.

I think you have to really take a step back and evaluate the actions of this ' bad habit ' let's say. You have to ask yourself why are you doing this and what good are you getting out of it.... ?

And if you want my honest opinion, they are not even worth sinning. Nobody is.

Here's a hack: whenever you feel the urge to go see what they are up to, say AstaghfiruAllah x10 times, and send 10 salawat upon the prophet ﷺ. The thought will disappear. And if it didn't still, leave your phone, go for a walk, talk to a friend, read a page of Quran, prepare something to eat, go sit with your family, anything to distract yourself and preferably something beneficial. Allahu al mustaān my dear.

May Allah swt grant you the strength and patience to move on from this painful situation. Ameen.

- A. Z. 🤍🍃

#sisterssafespace

8 notes · View notes

maygic · 1 year

Text

how many years have I been writing?

I started my anime otaku sideblog 8-9 years ago. this main blog, on the other hand, has been running since 2008. there’s a long history to these two blogs, and I've been proudly running it since I was a teenager until now.

even if I was treating my blogs as if I was talking to someone, a group of people, I didn’t actively seek for audience back then. I still don’t–on Tumblr, at least. I was happy enough to receive a single note; I was happy enough to receive the only message on my inbox saying that they liked my writing. it was 2011-2012; I was younger, unsure of what the world outside had to offer—but, in a way, I had some more resilience as to how others perceived me.

I don’t have it—or I don’t have enough of it, today.

I used to be active on this blog. when the great Tumblr purge occurred, I had to switch back to Twitter, among many others, but the transition was rather smooth because it occurred the same time I started losing interest with the two fandoms that started it all. my first Twitter account is as old as my main blog, which I run for a different purpose: if Twitter is the mask I put in front of my friends, then Tumblr is where I come clean. it’s a diary I leave out in the open.

I repurposed an old private Twitter account for fangirling. for the first few years, I followed a few people, but I mainly talked to myself the way I do with Tumblr. I have mutuals, but even then, I rarely interact with them unless necessary. I’m happy in my own space, drawing bad doodles of my ships and sharing my headcanon to an empty wall, with no one replying.

up until a few years ago, this is what I used to be: I wasn’t afraid to be a bad writer, I just wanted to write.

moving platform to Twitter is where things began to go downhill. it’s a disease that I think almost everyone on social media can relate to: you start to feel like you’re never satisfied with yourself, and especially, the things you create.

back in 2018, I posted my first fic. it was a multi-chaptered fic, and although it was far from perfect, it was my pride and joy. it garnered a small following, and I was content with what I received.

but as I moved to Twitter and began to posting my AUs and promoting my fics in the platform, I started to feel that my writing is not good enough. I started to compare myself with others—I feel jealous of those who speak English as their first language, not having to constantly check the dictionary because you know what words to use. I feel even more jealous—and ashamed—with fellow ESLs because they can write fics in English so well despite it not being their mother tongue. I feel jealous of fellow writers in my native language who managed to get a thousand likes for their AU on Twitter so effortlessly because I struggled getting 500. I feel jealous with how hardworking people can be to write good stories and with how readers flocked in, excited to read their works.

I feel upset whenever I check in to my AO3 account to find only a few people left comments and kudos instead of being content with what I’ve received. ugly thoughts began to seep into my mind: are people not excited to read my works? do they read them but find them not good enough to comment on? do people just see the link to my fics with pretty headers I made in Canva, and think that it’s not worth their time? in a span of a few months writing for this fandom, I grew very self-conscious, and I tried to brush it off until it became too noticeable and I could no longer lie with myself.

and that’s when I accepted the truth: I’ve since stopped writing for fun and began writing to please. even if I love the source material that I’m writing, I still ended up hurting because I tried to write something that people like and I beat myself up when it turned out not to be the case. I’ve tried talking to friends, stepping back from writing, from the community, from the source material that led into all of this—and it still wasn’t enough. I go on circles of self-loathing and self-pity (hell, even this whole post is so self-absorbed, in a way) and an impostor syndrome–something I never thought I would ever have.

in the end, the one hobby I loved, the one that saved me multiple times, turned into something that I should avoid to save myself.

when 13 year old me signed up to this account, all she wanted to do was find cute layouts for her blog and write about funny occurrences in her life. today me is just so desperate for readers.

and that’s not even the worst outcome, because I ended up unable to stomach fics from the same tag. I couldn’t read fics that other writers worked so hard to write because their fics are good and are more praised than mine. I compare my works to everyone, even mutuals, and I read too much into things when I see the same user who left a short comment on my fics left a longer, comprehensive comment to others’, thinking they don’t like my fics enough. my insecurities became apparent, and it made me an awful person.

hell, I even went back and forth reediting this post because I feel like it’s not good enough.

now what is my point in writing all of this, you ask? all I’m saying is that, as I enter this year, I just want to heal. I’m well aware that it’s not anybody’s fault that I don’t write as good as the others. it’s not anybody’s fault that people have preferences and they don’t like my works enough like they do with other writers. it’s all on me.

I don’t regret everything that happened, though, because writing and content creating has taken me places, once upon a time. it brought me friends that I hold dear, and it still saved me, in a way. it’s the one hobby that shaped my youth a lot. I’m proud of my progress and everything I’ve written—finished or not.

but lately I realized: I need a break.

I need to put down my pen and leave it for a while. parting ways with something you love, no matter how short, is not going to be easy. but it’s necessary, or so I’d like to think, until I can make peace with myself. but I promised myself that this is not indefinite, that one day I’ll return with stories to tell.

if anyone is reading this, I hope no one will have to go through the ordeal I’m going through. and I hope you find happiness—even in the bleakest of days.

2 notes · View notes

witchern · 2 years

Note

if you wouldn’t mind, may i ask how you got into your career? did you get a degree in it, what is your degree? how long did it take you to progress in the field?

totally disregard this if it’s too much! i just noticed your about and i’ve followed you for awhile and im a bit interested in the field you’re in!

omg of course, i don't mind at all! i actually kinda love talking about it – i'm the type of loser who genuinely likes their career (even though you WILL still see me bitching about the stupid aspects of it lmao).

under a cut because i am apparently incapable of shutting up!!

so i actually kinda fell into this line of work out of desperation lmao. i was originally trying to get a job in book publishing after i graduated college which is, like....notoriously difficult to break into. so after struggling for so damn long, i was at my wit's end when i had a thought like, "well, i grew up using social media. i'm on it all the time. i know how it works. lemme see if i can finagle this into a resume."

and then somehow it fucking worked??? i saw a job posting looking for a social media person to work specifically on this one company's twitter and tumblr accounts. yes, they were on tumblr. in 2016. and they needed someone who knew how it worked and how to run a blog. i was the only terminally online loser who fit the bill, and that's literally how i got started.

as far as degrees go, i majored in creative writing. social media degrees/studies were only JUST getting off the ground when i graduated, so it wasn't much of a thing back then. everything i know was either self-taught or learned via the WONDERFUL community of social media managers i've found over the years. there are SO many people who work in this field who are eager to help each other out, because the irony of it all is that it's.....kind of an isolating job? even though you're basically the frontline/mouthpiece of the company, your coworkers tend to forget about you. i've been left out of whole entire marketing meetings because they figured they could just hand me a pile of random content with ZERO context and i'd just be able to magically piece everything together by myself. so it's nice to have a community of folks that have been through the same struggles and can act as a shoulder for you to lean on when things get frustrating. and yeah, if i ever have a question about anything – from "what's a reasonable salary range for this position" to "what the fuck is going on with the instagram algorithm today" – someone will always answer.

and as for job progression, it's funny – when it comes to the actual job function, i haven't really "risen" up the ranks that much, but i LIKE it that way! i don't want to be a manager or anything like that – i really do love being the person who gets to dream up the content, write the captions, film the videos (sometimes), and figure out the best ways to share them. i've worked at 4 different companies since 2016 and by total coincidence, at each company i was the first person they'd ever hired to run social media as a single entity, rather than just handing it off to an employee who already had a full-time job of their own. so that means i also get to set all the benchmarks and design all the platform strategies from scratch – which sounds daunting but again, i'm the kind of loser who finds that shit fun lmao. it's partly creative and partly analytical, so it never gets boring.

ANYWAY yeah, can you tell i love chatting about this stuff lmao. it started out with me bullshitting my way into that first job by being like "i've been terminally online since 2009, please hire me" and now i actually DO know what i'm doing. kind of nuts!! i love it lol 💕

#anonymous #asks #thank u for letting me rave about this xoxo

3 notes · View notes

asagi-red-wolf · 1 year

Note

What happened with the zines?

Hey Anon, I'm gonna keep this short as the subject is a little anxiety inducing for me so apologies if I skim over things

I had a severe mental health crisis in December of 2021, including a suicide attempt, after wich my mom stepped in and temporarily cut me off from my projects for my health- she tried to step in and help following my instructions but understandably it was quite an enormous undertaking for someone who had no experience with zines, project management to that scale, or even using social media or instant messaging, and it was incredibly hard for her to try to keep things up

Some projects fell apart completely, like the Miraculous magic zine, others were taken over by my very capable and extremely kind and lovely co-mods, like the Yuri On Ice zines

I tried to keep in touch with some of the co-mods via email as I no longer had access to my discord, but unfortunately, as I'm sure many are aware, emails get lost and eaten quite often, and on some occasions I lost contact with my mods and fell outside of the project

There were also some cases, especially with the Teen Wolf soulmates zine, where I had been left as the only mod for months and I was trying to get help from contributors to update the social media, as the Tumblr purge on my zine blogs left only the Twitters available and I had no access to them, but that only occassionally worked

Financial management was either given to other mods (in the case of things like the YOI projects), or was held onto wile waiting for leftover sales to hit, like in cases with the IchiRuki zine, wich I later found out was taken over by one of the other mods who I've been trying to get in touch with to iron out details with, as we still had packages left from the Russian mail ban that haven't gone out and I was reluctant to start leftovers until those packages (as there are quite a few) could find their ways to their owners, however, there were also cases like the Yugioh horror zine where the zine was actually overdrawn (in the case of the horror zine, we were short over $300, wich I had spent out of my own pocket to complete shipping on, I had needed leftover sales to happen in order to make any donations, not to mention reimburse me for the money I'd spent- wich, between all projects, ended up totaling around $2,000 just in terms of funding shipping to contributors- IE: what I needed reimbursement for (things like certain packaging materials, customs import costs, and adding embellishments to bookmarks/necklaces, wich all totaled around $1,000, I was paying for out of my own pocket anyway and sought no reimbursement- they were things I was happy to provide for the zines out of love for my passion projects)

If anyone needs to reach out to me privately I can connect you with one of my co-mods to confirm that I covered $2,000 of my own money in zine production/shipping costs- I only say "privately" because I don't want to risk her getting slammed with messages out of nowhere, but please be aware (as evidenced by looking at my archive on here) I'm not on Tumblr much these days, I own my business and it keeps me extremely busy so I rarely have any down time

I still love zines, I still purchase them on a regular basis, so I'm heart-broken that things went the way they did, especially as I had made some really great connections through them that I've now lost due to losing access to my discord, but the mental health crisis I went through during the last year or so of my working on them was very serious and I'm lucky to have had my mom putting safeguards in place that I otherwise wouldn't have had to keep things from getting.... permanent....

If anyone needs to receipt check me, feel free to ask, I don't have access to some of the information anymore like the Bigcartel data as I closed my Bigcartel account ages ago and the data went with it, Awesomemerch also went belly up so certain things that I don't have on emails (like the proofs for some of the orders) aren't available either, but I do still have all of my receipts from every project I've worked on in case anything ever comes up about it and I need to show a papper trail

I know alot of people were upset by what happened, and mostly confused as I dissappeared into the ether and had no way of directing people from my past blog to this one, as- for those who don't know- Tumblr deleted my account in 2021 under false claims of it being a spam account (still boggled by that one to be honest) wich was posted about on many of the zine socials and can be confirmed by several different co-mods, for some reason my personal blog is still up but because it was a sideblog and not my actual account I can't log into it- the login page just says "this account was deactivated" when I try- and I'm extremely sorry that everything unfolded the way it did, but I'm happy and relieved to see that several of the projects I left in my comods' hands did well, that was all I ever cared about

#suicide mention tw #mental health tw

0 notes