So if you know our main blog then we don't need to give context, but if you don't we'll get to that in a few

This blog is like 100% dedicated to be about, well, nothing. Maybe some venting maybe observations from the perspective of a system, but like zero fandom stuff.

Meanwhile our main blog is like the full opposite. It's all our fandom stuff. But we're also like, totally open about being a system on there. And like we still get new followers/mutuals who are just like "Yeah I realize you're plural. You're two people, and both of you are cool dudes :)"

And it's just like *surprised Pikachu face* everytime. We're so used to having to sit people down and give the whole "so you know what an imaginary friend is, right? well a system is basically-" talk to get them to be even just surface level supportive of the idea.

Course it's been ten years, and it was only around 2021 that we became full frontal transparent about our plurality. Maybe the pandemic was good for one isolated facet of our lives, as we grew tired of being coy and secretive about it.

Probably a good time to go eat

> finds a massive list of anti endo blogs

> like over 600 this is nuts

> starts going through the list but keeps encountering missing blogs

> did they block us first or delete the blog? who knows

> we have stuff to do and this was only supposed to be a half hour thing

> goes to the "anti endo" tag on tumblr and just starts mass blocking the top posts from the past year

> because if anything that ensures all the current antiendo bloggers are gotten, which is the main thing we care about

> more than likely a lot of blogs were abandoned as people stopped caring about discourse, in which case it probably won't affect us

> looks at the list of blogs tumblr recommends as the top posters

> you can't just directly block them on mobile, you have to go to the blog itself

> starts going to the blogs and searching them to make sure they're actually anti endo

> most are and get blocked

> sees that the only post with a similar tag on one of them is "anti endos dni"

> realizes there's a possibility we just blocked several pro endo blogs by mistake

for every 20 posts we see mentioning trans girls specifically we see maybe one about trans guys and it's just... (heavy sigh)

We really can't be trusted with more than one blog holy smokes asdfghhjk

You are the young, newly-widowed spouse of the foolish and disliked noble who started this devastating war at the border; when a mix of common folk and soldiers drag you from your bed you are already resigned to whatever fate they have chosen for you. You are dragged out in your sheer silk nightwear and forced to your knees in the mud of the main road. Glancing up you see the figures opposite, the enemy, the great hulking orcs your husband angered. Above you, you hear frantic talking - frantic, useless. None of you speak their tongue.

Finally, in desperation, you crawl forward and bow your head, pulling your hair aside to bare your neck. Surely that cannot be misunderstood. You are willing to give your life for peace. The townspeople are hardly going to let you live either way.

(You are the chieftain of an orc clan reluctantly drawn into this skirmish as a matter of honour, and when the humans drag out a small, helpless one of their own and offer it you hesitate. It is dressed in silk and wears jewels at its neck and throat, which means it is important. As grotesque as the practice is to you, your sense of pride, you know they often exchange hostages between themselves. You glance at your second, who visibly rolls her eyes but nods. Any excuse to go home.)

The orcs do not kill you there and then, but take you; you cannot tell yet if that is a mercy or a misfortune. You are bound at the wrists and ankles and flung over an orc soldier's shoulder like a sack of grain, and passed between many of them during the journey. In their own language they joke and laugh as they pass you over, sometimes pinching at the bare skin of your thigh where your clothes have hitched up.

At their camp you are deposited in the tent of the chieftain. You have heard rumours of what they do with captives, and between being ravaged until broken or eaten alive you do not know what to hope for. You merely lie there, limp and trembling slightly, until you hear the sound of someone entering. The hulking orc chieftain looks at you, tusked face unreadable, then drags you upright by a fistful of your hair to briefly press a flask to your lips. When you have gulped nearly all the water he drops you, grunts and leaves. He does not return to the tent the entire night. You know this, because the low buzzing terror in the back of your mind doesn't let you sleep.

(You hardly know what to do with the little thing. Your comrades say it is easy to carry but odd, it is full grown by the look of it but doesn't struggle at all or even try to bargain in its babbling little language. Maybe it is unwell. You order it placed in your tent and give it water yourself, but it shows no more signs of life, dull-eyed and staring at nothing. You decide to let it sleep and go back outside to drink until you pass out under the stars and the warm summer skies.)

On the second night you are taken to a river before camp, and following the example of those around you, you wash yourself; as you return to the riverbank you find your clothes gone. The orcs watch you, even the smallest of them half-again your size. You swallow your fear and walk naked back to the chieftain's tent. Once there you lower yourself to your hands and knees on the bedroll, bare skin still damp from the water. You cannot stop him from taking you, but perhaps it will hurt less or be over faster if you comply.

The orcs chieftain makes a brief, almost hissing sound at the sight of you, but does not leave this time. Their hand brushes across your back and you can feel their claws retracting. They touch and inspect you like a prize hound and you keep your eyes to the ground, tears of shame welling up. Then he presses two large, blunt fingers inside you, and you brace yourself. He fingerfucks you lazily for a minute or so before suddenly growling something you don't understand and turning you on your back, so you scramble to reposition yourself and hold your legs wide. He cradles your face in both his hands as he slowly sinks his swollen cock into you, larger than you think you could ever take and stretching you painfully yet unable to look away from his face. Your husband used to force you to look at him like this only when he wanted to watch you cry, so you brace yourself for the firm hold to turn into hard slaps that leave your ears ringing.

(The little thing washes with the others and you are approaching the tent with an armful of fabric in what you hope is close to their size when you are hit with the unexpected sight of them uncovered in your tent, positioned as any orc begging to be bred would be. You have to smother a gasp and restrain yourself; it has been too long, and little thing's fragile shape and delicate features are somehow all the more appealing for their strangeness. But you were raised well, taught that all parties must agree before partners bed each other; you don't know their tongue to ask them. You seek permission from their body language instead, first touching their back, the curve of their ass and leg, then with tentative fingers in their soft tight little hole. They do not flinch or try to flee, and they wetten for your fingers. Surely you can continue? Forgetting yourself you ask out loud.)

You wait to be hit. It doesn't happen. You wait to used rough and hurt inside; it doesn't happen either.

The looming figure of the great orc warrior above you moves with an almost incongruous care, pressing into you slowly and then simply resting there until your body becomes accustomed enough to his huge cock that he can start to move without tearing you. It's almost as if his gaze on your face is tracking the small hitched breaths or softening of your expression to know when he can begin to carefully thrust. Yet that makes no sense to you. Men have never used you so gentle, why would a savage orc do so?

He is big enough it does hurt some little but that sensation is soon overwhelmed by another, unfamiliar and disorienting; a low heat building your abdomen, a curl of pleasure that makes you whimper. Another growl comes in response, so you try to quieten, but his expression - it is so hard to read, so different, but he does not look angry.

(You are confused and troubled, but the tight heat of the little thing is so perfect around your cock. They are acting like a new prospective mate, taking your body like a mate would, but when you watch their face to try and find the answers you'd normally seek out loud there is something missing. You fuck them very gently, as such delicate pretty things should be treated, and forget yourself enough to apologise out loud when they whimper. You promise them in words they don't know that you want to make them feel good, you will stop if they struggle even once, that they are safe with you.)

The orc chief finishes with a single deep thrust and you can feel your abdomen swell with how filled you are, a little of their cum already beginning to leak down your thighs. He pulls away and you instinctively curl in on yourself, protective - the sound he makes in response is urgent but more distressed than angry. He paws at you to uncurl, look at him again; as you tilt your face up and force your body to relax he huffs and lowers his great head between your legs. Before you can even process it his rough tongue is on you, and you can feel the smooth dangerous weight of his tusks against your inner thighs. The rush of banked pleasure is equally unexpected, as he coaxes a climax from you that leaves you shaking. Afterward you are gathered up like a doll in his arms, and for the first time in three days actually believe you may be safe. Very, very, tentatively, you reach for his face and pause halfway in question.

(The little thing flinches only afterwards, but it does flinch and you immediately fight back a rush of guilt and worry. Rank be damned, the clan will not stand for taking any person unwilling, even a human one. You try to comfort them with small touches, check their face for signs of what's wrong. They are unreadable. You check between their legs and can tell they did not quite find pleasure yet, so quickly duck your head to correct it. Perhaps that is what was wrong, because when their body responds they do not flinch away from being held close. They even reach for your face, and after you nod encouragingly they trace their tiny fingers over the ridges of your skin and kiss nervously at the smooth curve of your tusk. You thrill, but say nothing; maybe they have no idea what an intimate gesture that is. You just happily nestle close.)

You were the young, newly-widowed spouse of the foolish and disliked noble who started this devastating war at the border; now, it seems, you are claimed by the warrior chief who bested him and the bedmate of a mighty orc who is gentler with you than said husband ever was and - slightly endearingly - buries his face in the crook of your neck with a low rumbling sound not unlike a purr when sleepy and post-coital.

.

ahhhh

stuck in the waiting room. it's been an hour

have to pretend to be so incredibly not horny

we just need med renewals

ahhhhh

host

It's taking so, so much strength to not outright block my roommate's phone number. Holy fucking shit I want to take her to court over some of these texts she sends

It's no fucking wonder her discord account got banned. Christ on a stick

The moment we move out of here... we're ghosting so unbelievably hard

host

There's times you just gotta... Let out the urge to destroy everything you've worked towards you know? Be the bad guy others want you to be. Bite the hands that feed you. Destroy yourself in such a way that people look at you with horror rather than pitty. To expose your own viscera to an audience and cackle maniacally as they wretch. To hurt both inside and out. The wounds you leave being unstitchable. To chew on flesh until you reach bone. The ancestors say you crave companionship but the beast craves blood and fear. Blood and solitude. Teeth and claws to rend and tear. Biting, biting, biting.

oh that would be so evil. the karma would be instant, but for those first five minutes the catharsis would be heavenly

host

Still never quite sure what exactly our roommate said was in that box, but too scared to check if she really did say "Yeah this box has my old VR headset. You can have it. Also there's a vibrator in there."

. . .

Like an ACTUAL VIBRATOR????

Tumblr: here's a post based on your likes!

[shows a pro life post]

Us: Uhm.. not really. Let's look at the blog, see if it's worth blocking them just to not see this kind of stuff..

[posts of active harassment towards someone and some really disturbing takes about the situation in the middle east]

Us: ...Okay, gonna go ahead and report all that...

host

It's interesting that.. if it weren't for the desire to have sex I could be living a perfectly content life as an ace

both

Will never hate anyone for having a fetish blog or a sexual content blog in general but please by the love of our sanity use something to tag your posts with. For folks who aren't interested in stuff like that give them some sort of way to filter that stuff

We're willing to block if necessary but that doesn't stop the fact we feel bad when doing it 😭

both

We don't enjoy the ''non trauma systems DNI" trend for several reasons, and we've talked about this before, but if a system just doesn't want to have to validate their existence by seeking out the trauma related reasons for their formation, just.. let them be

Not everyone takes pride in knowing they come from trauma.

Let them enjoy the world they've imagined for themselves if no one is getting hurt

If that world is devoid of the trauma that played a part, then let them be

We use the word tulpa because it implies both of us had a choice in the matter

It's a word that some deem to be negative

A joke even

But you know what people rarely feel when they see that word?

Pity.

*hands on head*

We attract one kind of reader and one kind of reader only, apparently

*nervous siiigh* Guess we'll see how well they react to later chapters ahahaha

All the love to our readers, but-

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

both

> writing foreplay that occurs before an actual smut scene

> like it's not even sexual yet it's just very spicy making out

> takes a moment to just stare back at what's written

"Wait they're not even at the sex yet"

> double checks

> yep there's been no contact below the waist technically

> it's just that spicy

"Damn"