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#absolutely fucking begging
protectoroffaeries · 3 months
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i have a lot of leftist friends who are very strongly pro-voting and i have a lot of leftist friends who are very strongly anti-voting and i'm always telling them the same fucking thing: being a condescending asshole about your voting perspective is not going bridge that difference. it is just going to drive a further wedge in our movement.
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bigcatbulges · 6 months
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Source - DANNON_511
(Artist's FurAffinity Itaku Pixiv Bluesky and Picarto)
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the center for missing and exploited children has been getting daily calls about wren eleanor for the past two years. sometimes hundreds of calls per day. just for her. i know this because they told me as much when i called them myself a few hours ago.
it hurts.
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navree · 3 months
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"that you could be so cruel" ok correct me if i'm wrong but does penelope featherington not run a gossip rag that exist solely to publish unsubstantiated rumors about women she doesn't like for various reasons that have profoundly negative repercussions on those women (didn't the publication of marina's pregnancy lead to marina almost dying in her quest to terminate said pregnancy??????) and has in fact used that same rag to put not just colin's entire family but also specifically colin's sister, her best friend, through a significant amount of grief and strife that came as a direct result of that rag?
but colin's the cruel one? because she happened to eavesdrop on a conversation where he said he doesn't wanna date her? that's cruelty but all the other stuff isn't?
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lovesickeros · 2 months
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☆ from gold, i am undone
{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, implied self harm, implied suicide attempts {☆} word count 0.9k
You weren't meant to be here.
You can feel it in the marrow of your bones– it weighs you down like heavy shackles, gold bleeding from your pores until it is all you know. The taste of ichor on your tongue, the warmth of its invasion beneath your skin, that gleam of gold that lingers in the color of your eyes like specks of dust.
You are changed, and you are whole.
But you are so unbearably broken.
A shattered piece of porcelain hastily put back together with gold to fill the cracks.
Decoration, in the end, for you are not fit to walk as "mortals" do. This gold had filled every empty crevice of your body, spilled the red into your frantic hands and made you bleed so it's callous gold could make room inside your body. It has taken from you many things, given many more, but you scratch and bite and tear until it drips onto the floor and even then it never leaves. It stains the floor no matter how hard you scrub– a permanent reminder of the sickening gold that molds you into something that used to look like you– that does look like you. Desecrated, yet so horribly divine.
All you see is a monster.
Something new, something old.
A hollowed out shell, wounds left to rot and fester until you suited the image of the Creator they bore upon statues and murals, the Creator worshiped in prayers spoken in hushed whispers and joyous chants praising your magnificence.
But what magnificence is there in detachment? What joy is there to be found in carving a God out of a human? They kneel like lambs before the shepherd, but the flock has made you– and you want to unmake them. Unweave the tapestry of their being stitch by stitch until it all falls apart and the world knows the cost of casting molten gold into the shape of a human, knows the price that has been left unpaid.
You want to take it from them. Watch them squabble and pray, blind sheep stepping into the wolf's open maw– to tear the seams of their being until the world is unwound by your heavy hands.
But you know it will not satisfy you.
Nothing does anymore.
You are no wolf. Only the shepherd who guides.
And with every drop of blood spilled, they ripped the humanity from your very bones until your body was the cast in which they made something anew– something gold, something horrific. A monster as much a God, a beast as much a man.
There is nothing left but absolute authority.
You try again and again to mend this act of desecration, to peel back the outer shell and rend the gold from your marrow– but your body cannot, will not, die. It mends itself back into place no matter how damaged, and all you feel is the uncomfortable tug of your body forcing itself to live. You cannot die, but were you ever truly alive at all?
Yet with every cycle, you know only one constant besides the thrum of golden ichor in your veins– cold.
Ice that burns, ice that spreads and festers and devours. Claws that pull you apart until the gold runs thick, teeth that burrow into your bones and rip it out from the source..eyes that witness the fall of a God with reverence– hungering, all consuming reverence.
You welcome it.
It is the first time you felt pain since you were cast into an image of a being you were not meant to be. The sting of cold upon your skin makes you shiver, your body tries to reject it, but you want to welcome it– for a brief moment that lasts only as long as it takes for you to blink, you see the glint of something familiar in the reflection of her empty eyes. Something achingly, horribly familiar– something human, all the more terrifying for it.
Even when Teyvat itself crumples like paper beneath the weight of her sins – of this desecration anew, this wretched heresy – you allow her hands to do it again. You grasp her hands in yours like chains, willing her to shackle you, willing her to pull you apart and make you whole again. To break you until the gold cannot put you back together again.
You long, each time, for those eyes like spears that lodge into your skin– burrow deep and sting deeper, making gold flow like water. You long for the biting tongue, the cutting words and those teeth like weapons– long to see the spite and anger and impure disgust aimed at the woman of silver who leads you down a hall that ends only in damnation. You follow each time like the lamb led astray by the wolf, but you do not wail in betrayal when she sinks her teeth into your throat and devours you whole.
For is it a sin if you welcome it? Has their God sinned, in the eyes of the flock, for welcoming such heresy with open arms? For allowing the wolf into their home?
Is it a sin to be broken beneath the only hands that have loved you?
Is it a sin to want to love, too, those hands and teeth stained in gold?
Then you shall be damned, you swear it. Damned, but gold no more.
For death is the closest you have ever felt to being human.
#sagau#genshin sagau#self aware genshin#genshin impact sagau#self aware genshin impact#fic tag#tsaritsa#genshin cult au#genshin impact cult au#tsaritsa x reader#this is. technically not a sequel but not a prequel but a secret third thing (mental health crisis)#kidding i just wanted 2 write the prev fic from more reader oriented pov bc it wasnt fucked up enough!!!!!#i need fucked up reader who is irreparably changed in horrifying ways!!!!!! and they cant die bc teyvat kinda needs them 2 uh#exist at all. and if u die well thats it. hits reset button#the horrifying fate of a mortal forced to be a god against their will and all the drawbacks that come with it#where is love to be found when they all cannot see themselves as anything but beneath you? there will always be imbalance#oh they try. they claw and scramble and beg but being the creator has changed you.#none of their worship. none of their sacrifices and gifts and pleas make you feel a thing and what a haunting thing it must be#do they reject it? delude themselves into thinking that they must try harder?#or do they accept that this is a god? absolute. horrifying in its entirety. something that even the archons cannot truly understand#a manmade god who seeks absolution in only the most heretical. the most blasphemous#literally shaking chewing on the bars of my cage LET ME OUT#i love deep dives like this sorry 2 everyone i made think i was normal my bad#i just think immortality and godhood r funky concepts and i love making them WORSE#also this took so long because i was playing b@Idurs g@t3 3 erm. censored so it doesnt show up in tags PLEASE DONT SHOW UP IN TAGS#taking i need the tsaritsa to bite me to a whole new entirely worse level!!#i just think (starts talking for 5 hours straight and doesnt Shut Up)#this one is also. considerably more openly fucked up then the other fic. even if its hidden behind flowery language uh. take it seriously.#okay im done no more angst its fluff from here on out i need 2 be NORMAL. i am a normal well functioning adult. maybe.
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peachypizzicato · 10 months
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listen not to blow smoke but some of you bitches really just do not understand that sometimes characters are not villains but are functionally antagonistic and meant to evoke something complex.
no, miguel is NOT a villain. he’s an antagonistic force in the story who is meant to be complicated, you aren’t meant to just cleanly agree or disagree. his methods are SUPPOSED to be questionable at best and his motives are supposed to be understandable on some level. for the love of god please just learn some fucking media literacy i can’t take this anymore
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i live a healthy, balanced life. i eat a bowl of ramen for breakfast, a microwaved burrito for dinner, and then at 2 am i devour an entire head of lettuce
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sandinthepipes · 1 month
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Me shaking Peter Jackson by the shoulders like a stuck vending machine: IF THEY'RE NOT GAY WHY EVERYTHING ELSE? WHY PETER? WHAT IS THAT?
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avernusreject · 8 months
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sunnibits · 9 months
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I literally have zero art motivation right now but you can have these ofmd x pokémon doodles I made ages ago and never posted ‼️
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scintillyyy · 2 months
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the thing is that there are interesting ways to play with the idea that thomas and martha weren't the perfect parents that bruce will always venerate them as on account of they died when he was 8 (i feel like the ones i'm most interested are the throwaway lines that imply they might've sent bruce to boarding school + the idea that thomas was maybe a little too focused on prioritizing his work over family), however dc seems to constantly go for ~but did thomas cheat on martha?? was he imperfect in his potential unfaithfulness???~ (they do this for a lot dad characters in general i feel like) and it's just overdone and tiring and i hate it so.
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starflungwaddledee · 5 months
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atthebell · 2 months
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el chico más lindo del mundo entero
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cordelia-street · 3 months
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whatever you do, don't think too much about sejanus plinth
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EEPY
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tachimichishrine · 6 months
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Please I am begging, I can’t get over just how perfect Tachihara would be with the whole ghost face trend. Please please please
<what. what if I told you I wholeheartedly agree. throws my headcanons and love at you>
"scream for me"
⫭◦⨝◦⫬
tachihara michizou x fem! reader {ghostface trend} hcs
warnings: nsfw ; kitchen sex ; knife play ; intended lowercase ; cursing; unedited so unedited i wrote this half asleep thinking abt being pussy drunk on tachi pls forgive me
manz is a SPY. he's done undercover work and wears a disguise 24/7 (his disguise is a goddamn bandaid but he's hot so we let it slide) he adores getting dressed up
I think he'd be really bad at taking it serious though
100% he gets very childish about things like birthdays, holidays, halloween bc he didn't get that kind of experience with his family when he was younger (womp womp :/)
the hunting dogs obviously don't have anything to do with halloween so imagine his surprise when he caught the port mafia hq covered in spider webs and blood.
the blood was likely real
elise was the one who insisted on it, and if she insists, everyone is wearing cat ears and fake vampire fangs.
chuuya was a vampire the dude definitely had practice
he was definitely in the spooky scary spirit when he had his head on your lap, one hand sliding under and up between your thighs like a pillow and watching scream
i KNOW he felt just the teeny tiniest insecurity when you started calling certain scenes really hot but he tried, really hard, to ignore it.
got a little too comfortable and sleepy when you starting running your fingers through his hair and found himself letting out a yelp at the stupidest jumpscares
you teased him for it all night
"do you think I'd survive in one of those horror movies?" you asked later that night, curled up in bed.
"your dumbass would probably trip and kill yourself on a kitchen knife while making breakfast."
"well, fuck you."
"only if you insist" said with his trademark grin.
you got him back by playing into his jumpiness and hiding around every corner, even when you're on missions
you sprung out with a dramatic ghost-like scream (holding back laughter) on one important mission and the man almost shot you
like he pulled the trigger and everything and had to use his ability to keep the bullet from drilling a hole in your stupid skull.
you toned down the pranks after that.
however, it did give him an idea.
he started using his ability to set up the mood for payback by making metal doors creak or scraping chair legs on the ground slowly
a chill physically ran up your spine when you were walking hand in hand and the front door of an empty "for sale" store slammed open, then shut.
maybe he liked it a little how you squeezed his hand when he did that
maybe he liked it a little when you punched him on the shoulder as you realized it was just his antics
but he sure as hell liked it when you roughly smacked his naked ass and shoved his face into the sheets later that night to teach him a lesson
you liked his screams more like that anyways
tachihara was nowhere to be found after you disappeared into the shower trying to wash off all the smeared cum he'd left on your body. you already thought it was strange that he didn't join you even when you offered, but it was even weirder when you came out in nothing but a towel, and the bed was empty.
"michi, I know you're tryin' to be cute or whatever and scare me, but you're not very subtle about it," you giggled, ditching the underwear to just put on some shorts and one of his shirts. your body bounced onto the mattress that was still warm from your bodies, still smelling like sex and gunpowder. the covers were thrown over you and snuggled into and you waited patiently.
it was amusing, at first.
it was annoying after 10 minutes.
you'd gone on your phone, scrolling listlessly to pass the time while you waited for him to finish up whatever stupid prank he was planning so you could get back to sleep, but a whole half hour had passed and it was beginning to feel a little wrong. you weren't worried (he kicked your ass in training too many times for you not to know how strong he was), but sure as hell curious as to what was going on. it was the spooky season, after all, and there was no harm in indulging a little bit; you dialed his number and heard it ring from somewhere in the apartment.
he was really trying to set it up for you, huh? cute. you figured you'd play along.
the phone was vibrating from the kitchen counter, and you picked it cautiously, glancing around you to find out from where your boyfriend was inevitably going to try to jump at you. you heard a chair move, and your eyes darted to look over in that direction out of instinct.
of course a hand clasped around your mouth and another pulled your waist backwards. you bit his gloved hand playfully to get him to let you go and just giggled, shoving your hips back onto him teasingly and trying to flip around to get a look at him.
your entire body got slammed onto the kitchen counter, hair pulled back in one harsh movement
oh fuck.
you didn't think you'd be bent over so fast, his hips already grinding into your ass while the thin, cheap plastic of his mask rubbed against your cheek, his husky voice laying out every lewd thing you both knew you were thinking. from the way his body was leaning onto you, you guessed that he was shirtless and wearing just about the tightest, low-cut pants known to man being held up by a belt (there was definitely a thick belt; you felt the buckle poke into your lower back every time he'd grind too hard)
"michzou..." you didn't have any problems with what he was doing, but loose fingers were touching your body all over and the thin shorts you'd thrown on previously without a second thought were soaking with every word he'd rasp out. "michi, stop playin' around, I-"
it seems your simple ask got you manhandled again, and both gloved hands were now on your thighs, lifting you up to sit you down on the counter so he could rub against you from the front. it was hard to take it seriously and you let out a giggle when you watched him loom over you with the ghostface mask on, trying to be serious. your fingers went to dig into his shoulders as your hips rolled, back arched trying to feel him better.
he sighed, groaning and trying to slip off the mask when he realized it wasn't having the effect he wanted, but you flicked it back on.
"just because I'm laughing doesn't mean I don't think this is fuckin' hot," you reassured him, ironically chuckling again, and this spurred him to grab your hands and pin them above your head on the cabinets above.
"can't believe you liked gettin' fucked by a masked man this much." his voice was deeper than it usually was but god did it get you throbbing. your legs wrapped around his hips, trying to regain control without your hands.
you quipped back with a sly grin. "would be better if you actually fucked me."
shit, you knew just what to say to get him riled up. he let your hands go to pull off your useless shorts which already had splotches of your arousal, and you seized the opportunity to unbuckle his belt, slide your fist into his pants and pull him out.
getting fucked senseless by your masked boyfriend on the kitchen counter at 3 in the morning was not on your schedule for halloween.
"you know," you mused, your pace slowing once the build up had passed but still rocking yourself on him, "usually the victims try to fight back."
"the fuck does that me-"
the cold metal of a knife poked and teased the exposed skin on his neck, and you felt a little irritated you couldn't see his shock through the mask. "c'mon, you've had your fun, baby, it's my turn."
he wanted to play the part, he really did, but before he could try to resist you had him gently sliced into streaks of red, teeth marks coating his body and his tongue gagging on blood-stained fingers from under the mask. your legs were still secured around his hips, fucking into him slowly and deeply, and every guttural groan that echoed out in the hollow apartment was good enough to keep you going while his body tensed up with rigid muscles and heavy breaths.
he couldn't take it anymore once the searing sting of you smearing his blood on his skin mixed in with the pleasure of dragging against your tightly clenched walls, and he murmured a curse before discarding the mask, messily kissing you with groaning lips buried into your neck once he finally got enough air to pant your name.
ah, the dumbass. he really tried to get you to play along but it was hard when you had him under your thumb. maybe next year, he'd try again.
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