♡⃣ v a l k y r i e ’ s simple affection is shown by…𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑ 𖥻 ִ ۫ ּ

….basking in your presence. mika is content anywhere as long as you’re the person beside him. running errands with you goes beyond being a favorite pastime of his, it’s a genuine honor of his to be allowed to spend the most mundane hours of life with you. holding your grocery bags while talking about the colors in the advertisements you’ve seen in store windows, making up names and stories for puppies seen tied to cafe tables outside, predicting the weather, discussing how intelligent humans are for inventing things for even the smallest of inconveniences—in the silence between topics mika thanks that god over and over again that someone could love a half broken product like him. he feels truly blessed by you, especially if you find the right time to rub his head or scratch under his chin. in the small times you spend together, he blushes so much around you that you begin to believe he really is just a cherry cheeked kind of boy

….pinching your cheek and clicking his teeth. only you can hear the care in shu’s nagging, the softness in his correction. only he can see the hair on your head that’s out of place, the tag sticking out of your shirt. brushing a hair out of your face while your hands are full, fastening your necklace for you after you’ve fumbled with the latch for a minutes or so, retying your shoes for you mumbling about how childish you truly are—shu can’t admit it but he really does enjoy just taking care of you. you’re a precious artifact to him, something that needs delicate hands and a proper home. taking note of the colors you wear often, the times of year you sneeze the most, the kind of drinks that you cringe at, whether or not you enjoy the guitar and if he should find ways to incorporate into his work..even in his own little world, there remains a spot for you. somehow you’re approval has also become vital to his projects, knowing you believe in his genius gives his a sense of pride like he’s never felt when he’s done this alone. after so many years of safe and cold porcelain skin, shu never realized how strong his craving was to feel something so warm and inviting until now

Keep seeing that post where OP starts like 'Thinking about...grieving the undead' and then adds on about like. Real life situations where people have not died but have left your life and you would have reason to grieve them.

All respect, that's an important concept, but that is not what I am thinking about when I read 'grieving the undead'.

fascinated/horrified by this set of tweets…

"adhd isn't a disability"

breaks down over trying to start tasks until he deadline is stupidly close

unable to do basic chores unless it's like 4am and then the whole damn house gets cleaned

speaks too fast

tangent and tangent and tangent. makes social situations hard

literally unable to stop themselves from interrupting people mid sentence (and the constant "*interrupts*- sorry, please continue")

knows what they want to say, cannot find the words, even if it's something basic

auditory processing disorder (pretty common with adhd), like how do you explain that you can hear but your brain has minecraft server lag and the chat will appear soon

hyperfixations, and people thinking they are special interests when they are not (they are short term, literally stops you from basic care like eating and drinking when in) edit: it was brought to my attention this comes across like special interests are easier to live with which is not the case, please do not take that away from this post!!!

impulse purchases making bank accounts cry

all or nothing. not hungry to pain. don't need to pee until pain. you get the picture

cannot sit still, like actually can't, constant moving and shuffling which people think would be cute but actually just pisses people off

doesn't have a fidget toy, not bc they are popular but bc they would have to put it away bc dylan over there got a fidget spinner and has been loudly playing with it (dylan is neurotypical)

cannot do anything if there is something else to do that day, must wait

just stfu it is a disability

the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.

sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.

you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.

it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.

but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.

they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.

they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.

barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.

and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.

but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.

they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!

this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.

mob psycho is the greatest show ever made because reigen being cancelled on twitter is one of the most important moments for his character as well as one of the most emotionally heavy episodes of the show but him being trapped in alone in a purgatory dimension slowly starving to death is treated as a gag and never mentioned again

Seeing other writers on tumblr talk about writing is so validating because all of them are basically:

“I hate writing but I love it more than anything but it’s agony but I have a million stories to put to paper but I barely ever write a word”

And like I’ve always felt this way and I worried it meant I wasn’t supposed to be a writer, which tore me to shreds. But no. That’s just the curse of being one, I guess.

TW// Abuse implication

Thinking about possible Vox and Angel's interactions and how they'd go down. Theres such a unique mix of hatred to each other and common ground with their different experiences with Valentino, has me thinking.

Also just want to clarify I love Vox's character a LOT but ofc obv don't sympathise with him or think he is any way shape or form a decent individual, cant with stupid toxic dumbass x

AND IF YOU SEE ANY MISTAKES OR TYPOS NO YOU DONT- (i was so tired when drawing it forgive me TwT)

ITS THREE AM AND YOU KNOW WHAT THIS CANNOT KILL ME IN A WAY THAT MATTERS COMMISSION NEEDS????

S PI R A L S

Horror isekai where Perceiving the Weird Eldritch Thing gets you catapulted into a nightmare labyrinth of puzzle-solving.

I.e Those Who Perceive The Hunt of the Goblin King Must Partake In The Labyrinth and Can Only Be Freed If They Complete It In One Day and One Night. By Fae Law. For Reasons.

But the definition of “perception” clearly needs to be updated because some normal guy simply films the Hunt of the Goblin King Behind Arby’s, and puts it on Facebook -

No, not instagram or TikTok, it’s important that it be Facebook -

Because the rules are pretty clear, “the rules are the rules” as is carved ominously in elvish runes above the grim gate, and the Contract is Sealed. and so therefore the guy and 25 of their most random real-life acquaintances must run the gauntlet together. It’s Some Guy, their immediate neighbors, their first partner’s mom, their friends from hobby Facebook groups (oh this poor guy and their hobbies; the elderly birdwatchers from Facebook and the young up-and-coming drag king community), their random teen kid niece, college friends, a dog who also watched the video, a couple consisting of a woman who is the guy’s Facebook friend and showed her husband the video, and the husband doesn’t even know Some Guy, so he’s in the labyrinth and absolutely furious about being forced to be involved, and they proceed to break up over the course of the puzzle.

It’s important that the narrative keeps trying to be a sexy dark horror isekai! but within this the comedic reality of Catherine, 52, the guy’s horse-riding instructor, being passionately involved in escape-room-style puzzle solving and grappling with minor goblins. They are in fact speedrunning the gauntlet.

The Goblin King finally has to say: all right, actually, I only really set all this up to fuck with one (1) guy at a time, thanks for your willingness to participate, but I think all 25 of you can consider the gauntlet fully run.

And the group would be quite hurt by that. The rules are the rules. We have a contract, actually. Let Catherine cook.

obey me c a s u a l t o u c h ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

no warnings | gn!mc | not proofread <_<

♢ in the hustle and bustle of the devildom on the weekends, you always find yourself pushing through crowds in the street markets to buy groceries for the week. after being bumped into for the umpteenth time, you decide to let your step fall behind lucifer’s, that way if you were to be separated you could still see his large head above the crowd and make your way back to him. sensing your presence move from beside him, lucifer stops walking turning to look at you. “make sure not to get lost” he puts a light hand on the small of your back to guide you in front of him as to not lose sight of you. occasionally, you’ll feel his hands on your shoulders moving you forward without letting you stray from him.

♢ you and mammon sit shoulder to shoulder staring at the black screen of his ddd. there wasn’t any reason to be nervous, but mammon was anxiously awaiting to hear from his agent if he had booked a new gig—an small role in a new d-drama. the acclamation was one thing, the money another, mammon hadn’t stopped talking abt it since his audition. finally his screen lit up: an email notification. he opened it slowly and yelled “we did it!!! we did it! oh man, you’re my good luck charm we gonna be so rich!!!!” he threw his arms around you and jumped in a circle, mammon’s happiness is your happiness as well.

♢ in front of the computer screen, one hand on the mouse other on the keyboard, levi kept giving you directions on where to go and what to do even though he said he would let you play the game yourself. “wait, wait if you turn around and walk through tht wall there’s a secret cave full of ss grade items! no, no turn around argh” he puts his hand on your shoulder and points in the opposite direction in which you were moving “literally it’s a wall covered in vines. i found it on accident my seventeenth time playing through it hahahah that was the round i completed the fastest…” his story is much harder to follow when his voice is this close to you, but you never want to miss his words.

♢ many food ingredients in the devildom remind you of things you can find back home in the human realm, so you decide to try and recreate a meal you already know. while stirring the pot, you feel someone approach you from behind “hmm? what is it that you’re making?” it’s satan it’s his head titled to the side. he had placed his hand on the counter trapping your waist between himself and the stove, his other hand placed on his hip in curiosity. his fingers tapped on the marble, his eyebrows furrowed and unfurrowed. you dipped the spoon in and brought it to his lips to taste.

♢ there were so many formal events held at diavolo’s castle you began wondering if it really was so imperative that you and everyone had to attend every single one. racing down the hallway, you hear asmo’s voice “oii your tag is sticking out. sigh, come here, come here!” you stop in your tracks, your hands shooting to the back of your formal attire. you can hear asmo chuckling. “let me see〜” one hand gracefully touches your side, the other you feel down your collar tucking your tag back into place. “this is perfect timing,” he says from behind you, “i need someone to help me zip my dress♪”

♢ without you asking, beel takes bottle from you hand and twists the lid off for you. “humans are so fragile” he mentions and hands it back to you, not tht you needed his help to open a bottle of raspberry juice. with that thought in mind, you managed to spilled some down your chin. are you a child? beel chuckles to himself, putting one hand on the top of your head, the other takes out a handkerchief and wipes it off for you. punctuating his handiwork with a head rub he adds “humans are so clumsy, too.” you drink your juice more carefully this time.

♢ a new cafe was opening downtown! the first hundred patrons would receive a mystery prize and a free parfait topping! while scrolling devilgram you saw the post and called belphie over to look. he places his head on your shoulder to look over your shoulder at your phone. “ah, im pretty sure that’s the same place i was talking to you about last week? when i said we should eat a strawberry parfait together” he lazily drapes his arm around your shoulder. though, you’re sure he did not ask you to eat desert together, maybe he had dreamt about it.

LET THE BOY HAVE AN EDUCATION

officially at the point where we're starting to see where it's all headed and I am just going NYEEHEEHEE in delight at it all. ahhh...next week can't come soon enough...

The hunger games: capitalism pits individuals against each other in order to prevent us from uniting against the systems in power that maintain our oppression

teen dystopian YA for the next decade: light hair good boy 😍??? Or dark hair bad boy 🫣😈😈

My followers: And is this “writing” you’ve been “working on” in the room with us right now?

so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.