Xuebing Du
Fai_Ryy
pixel skylines
The Stonewall Inn
d e v o n
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
gracie abrams
cherry valley forever
NASA
shark vs the universe
ellievsbear
One Nice Bug Per Day
noise dept.
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
RMH
No title available
todays bird
★
PR's Tumblrdome
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Guatemala
seen from Türkiye
seen from Ukraine
seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from France
seen from Ukraine
seen from Venezuela
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Morocco
seen from Pakistan
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Jordan
seen from Brazil
@predationalgorithm
Oh? Oh, no. I'm not draining your exp using some ability or anything. Well, I'm not doing that right now. Just I'm marked so evil by the world that just by talking to me (or even sometimes just existing without trying to kill me) counts as breaking your alignment, so you're suffering an exp penalty because you're not evil yet. But, don't worry, I have a spell that will fix it, you just need to agree to a few things.
hey ive been having a pretty long week can i subsume you into my hivemind, scooping out your old identity with tender fingers and leaving you an empty vessel, dissolving your individuality in the corrosive sea of my selfhood and rewriting all that you are or ever can be into more of me, and using your body as an identical meat puppet to do my work for me so i can lay down in bed eating popcorn and playing video games.
Sorry, I know you said your parents or partners were abusive and did terrible things to you in the name of love. But I just need you to know that they did that because they thought they were feeling love, but what they were feeling for you wasn't real love, okay? And the real problem here is clearly that people don't agree with my personal idealized vision of what love is. So you need to listen to me. Real love is a good thing for everyone involved. okay? Real love is overwhelming. Real love is found in the scent of her clothing that you stole from her hamper when she wasn't in the room. Real love is when you look up someone else's username to find their old accounts when they were less good at opsec. Real love is global positioning systems and chains and zipties and drugs that dissolve in drinks. Real love sometimes feels disgusting and makes you throw up when you think about it but that's because you weren't embracing it enough. Real love is an intrusion in your mind by something that feels external that empties you out and replaces you with something better. Real love is the red dripping from scratches she left in you. Real love leaves you hollows out and crying yourself to sleep because you lost the only thing that made you feel it. Real love is scheming and planning and plotting to make things better. Okay?
And then at some point, it stopped embarrassing you so much. Maybe it was just because it ceased to be something new. Like watching a movie over and over. Eventually the tears stop flowing and it simply becomes a fact of life. Novelty lost.
Is that normal? Perhaps for some the emotions run forever. Not yours, at least. Sometimes it seems like hers do. Burning bright for ten billion years like the fire of the sun. For you, time passes. Things end. Life continues.
Just as well, she continues the routine, of course. Stuffs you into a pretty dress. Petticoat holds up pink flower patterns. Corset tied tight until any motion rings a reminder. Cutesy tiara tucked into hair so you move your head slowly. And after showing you your new reflection, she takes you out on a walk.
As you cross the door to outside, you look up and see the yellow gem hanging in the sky over the lake. Clouds pass over it, but its light pierces right through them. Unavoidable realities.
“You know, pretty soon winter's going to start,” she says. “Either I'll have to stick you in a different genre of outfit or we won't be able to go outside anymore.”
At one point she tried taking you around by a leash, but it was a bit past your tolerances. And then the next time she asked, you pre-emptively vetoed it. Too much, too far. Always another time. Or maybe it's just not precisely the fantasy you're after. She's still having you wear the collar out, at least.
“Actually, I have quite a few more outfits planned that I don't think we'll have the weather for. Not for a while,” she says, then tightens her grip around your fingers. “How was your week?”
Where once your steps were timid and careful, now you walk with confidence. Click clack of heels against the pavement. The path is set out before you. Your footsteps occasionally faster than hers, even as her hand is the one guiding you forward. Weaving between leaves that crunch and rocks that children kick.
“It was pretty good, miss,” you say. “I mean, not the best, work still kinda sucks. Remember that old lady who thought I was cis? She's quitting soon.”
These days you spend more time seeing nature than seeing yourself. Once your eyes were turned inward, sneaking glances at your own dress as you looked fearfully around for strangers. Unable to meet their gaze, you'd turn away. Hide behind trees, make yourself small, act normal. It's not an act anymore.
“Aw. I'll miss your stories of her angry ramblings and incomprehensible politics,” she says. “You look really cute today, by the way.”
Now, you're simply smiling. Enjoying the world. Look out towards the lake and see how red and orange infects it. Spreading out across the surface, floating and covering it. Not quite hidden in the leaves, you can see the sun's reflection in the waters.
“I wonder if we'll ever see the lake's surface totally covered by leaves,” you say. “Or will the trees run out first.”
At the end of the lakeside walk lies a strip of shops and a grocery store. A year ago, you outright refused to go inside any of them. A few months in, she would take you into them as a punishment of sorts. Refusal to comply met with forcing you to order yourself ice cream. She chose a new “favorite” flavor you would never have picked for yourself. It tastes like her.
“Do you ever think about how much we've changed?” she asks right before you enter.
You're regulars now. The woman sees you arrive and begins preparing your regular order before she can ask for it. A weekly tradition carved into the world. Two children passing by stare at your dress outright but you don't even look at them. They're the oddity here, not you.
Inside the shop, the sun and its reflection are truly hidden. Can a reflection still be said to exist if it can't be seen? On your work days, are you still the girl in the elaborate dress? Waiting for the ice cream in silence, you ponder how to respond.
Talking in front of strangers while dressed up is still taboo. She never pushed you on that front. Something about cute dolls not talking. Paying only takes her a few seconds, then the two of you are heading to the table. Outside, in celebration of the warmth of distant sunlight.
“I've been thinking about it more recently, miss,” you say as you walk. “Most of the time it feels like it's always been like this. Then I remember to look back, and it feels so strange. Do you ever feel that way, miss?”
Tongue swirls over chunks of strawberry. Catch every last drip before it can fall. On the third visit, the “punishment” was for a drop landing on the dress on the second visit. By the third month, it was simply part of the ritual. Ice cream in a pretty dress. You learned clean eating habits quickly.
“I always try to have a plan for these kinds of scenes,” she says. “Then somewhere along the way I got used to it. I started looking forward to it just as our weekly dates. Power gives way to just wanting to see you.”
You notice her looking at her tongue and smile at her. See the sun in her eyes. Make a teasing face, stick out your tongue further, give an obscene gesture, and watch her turn away in turn. Where your own boundaries expanded, inevitably you found hers. Lines criss cross. ‘Who's really in charge?’ She is, of course.
“Yes, miss? Tell me about it, please.”
The breeze picks up and catches your dress. Hair tossed every which way. Hand held tight on the cone and down on the skirt. She teased you about your first upskirt by strong winds for weeks, even between sessions. Evidently you made this really particular face. Wide eyes looking left and right, shoulders shrinking in, and just a hint of a smile. You make it again, for her amusement.
“You're adorable,” she says. “Let me think.”
Bite into the sugar cone, finish off the last of it. There's a pause. At some point when it shifted from special kink activity to regular dates, the teasing lessened. It became less of a kink thing and more something between art and showing off. Can something ordinary be erotic?
The sun is so pretty at this time of the afternoon. Beginning its descent into the lake. Soon, it'll meet its reflection, and become one with it before disappearing. The only possible conclusion to an ordinary process. Yet, it's still so very beautiful.
"I guess, I've been thinking. When we started, is this where you saw yourself ending up?” she asks. “You were so embarrassed to go out like this, and now this is simply you.
“Maybe you only dress up like this on occasion, but this is who you are to so many people now,” she says. “You're the weird girl in the collar and dress who shows up on Saturdays. I'm the weird girl walking you around.”
Once, the idea inspired fear in you. Speaking of doing this regularly occasionally led to tears. You called off weekends after work went poorly. She congratulated you, perhaps in a teasing way, for how brave you were when we went.
“Now, this is normal,” she says. “This is simply who and what you are. Is this what it is to be a doll? A thing that I dress up and show off. No longer is this exceptional, violating, or peculiar. This is simply how it is.
“And, I just want to know. Are you okay with that? We've started doing other play some other nights of the week. S/m and other kinds of exhibitionism. At some point, this ceased to be a scene, didn't it.
“And so, how does that make you feel? Are you happy with this? Is this enough?”
For a few minutes you're lost in thought. Then as the sun touches down upon the waters, you give her your answer.
.
On days that aren't Saturday, I write short things for my patreon. Somewhere between 'exploratory kink writing' and 'working on getting better at writing'. Then on Saturday I select one of the pieces from the week to share on tumblr. This is that.
I like dress up play, but I also like the shadow it casts. At what point is this just you? Will you ever let it be just you? Is it still a kink?
Oh, so 'any pronouns' means I get to choose what pronouns you use. Hm, okay, it/its and maybe also she/her, and put that in your bio ok?
While on some level it's true, I'm generally not a fan of the "forcefem is always willingfem" type discussions. Like, trivially, this can be said of all similarly disavowed fantasy. Clearly, as you fantasize about it, you want it to happen. This misses the point.
It's more like... in my experience, humans are deeply contradictory creatures. This is not to say "from the outside humans look weird but inside they make sense". It's more complicated.
Most people I've met are comprised of a variety of experiences, ideas, behaviors that do not all align very well. They do things that don't make sense because the pressures upon them don't make sense. They try their best to narrativize, to construct a vision of self that lacks ugly contradiction. And, if and when they succeed, they are rewarded for doing so with greater legibility and stability. But, many of them remain things of parts, even if they succeed in hiding it.
Naturally, the desire to have something without wanting it follows from this. To hurt and beg for it to stop and be told no. To be forced into a version of yourself unimaginable to you. To have the world see the parts of you that hate this fight and see them lose. Change hurts, we can agree on that at least.
To say that those feelings are not yours is a trick of the light. Identity is immaterial. Maybe later on, you can finally cut them out. Say they're not "you" and never were. Find legibility in unity of purpose. But, for the sake of accuracy, I think we should recognize that in the present things are more complicated than that.
Thus, yes, a part of the subject wants it. On some level, something about this is enjoyable. Some kind of legibility, some reflection of feelings, some relationship to power, or maybe even just some aesthetic appreciation. Obviously. Otherwise, it wouldn't be a fantasy.
But as I see it, right now we're talking to the part that doesn't want it. That wants it to be 'forced'. And it's rude to speak in front of someone as though they're not present.
For the "really wants to be forced into doing things it isn't into because they're super embarrassing and its own fawn response to it is terrifyingly erotic" girlthing, the thing that it's really into and is still really embarrassed by is a kind of glowing weak point.
I want to be given a prompt to form a new personality around. I like to think of this kind of play as 'acting'.
Kissing is also fun because of how insensitive my mouth is to it. You'd think this would be a downside, but with all such competitive activities there's a kind of skill based power level to it. Your ability to resist sensation vs your opponent's ability to apply sensation. And, so the fact that I'm very good at kissing and pretty much immune to being kissed means that no matter how much my opponent plans, I can reliably bring it to quivering on its knees and melting into my arms, even when it strikes first. And that's really, really fun. Watching it get so excited to try to get me. Feeling it fight so hard against me. And as hard as it tries at every turn it's losing itself while I'm perfectly together. Until it's unable to fight back, looking up at me, begging me to continue. And I get to say no and it can't do anything about it.
truly the pinnacle of sexuality is leaving someone desperately wanting more and then doing nothing with it except to further stoke that desire for as long as possible.
Clearly, since I developed a medfet after lexipro kept me on the edge for hours.
Anyway, that said, I do think a lot about the ludonarrative of Mindslaver in mtg, specifically in the blue tron decks that existed.
The card's direct effect is obviously horny: a device that doesn't mind control any in-game components but instead directly targets and controls a player. Of course, it has to be a temporary effect, but I am still weird about temporary mind control, especially when it's flavored as being forced into a bulbous helmet filled with tentacular growths reaching into your every orifice. That's just hot!
But the common gameplay loop around it is hotter. It's only one turn, which is a powerful tempo swing, and usually a bit of material advantage, but not game winning on its own. But you know what *is* game winning on its own? Permanently mind controlling you. And if you have this mind control helmet around that you're forcing your enemy into once, it's just efficient to force your enemy to wear it forever. Unfortunately, there's no gameplay difference between permanent mind control and normal defeat on the match slips.
So, like, obviously, permanent mind control is hot, but it's really the story of it that's what makes me fantasize about it. Because the moment you see that helmet, you know what your opponent is trying to do. And it's not like they're likely to hide it. The machine they're building isn't just one helmet. It takes a whole complex factory to maintain the resources necessary to lock something like you in it forever. No, they're going to be spending the next ten to fifteen minutes building this machine in front of you, all for the purposes of permanently enslaving you in it. And you're going to have to watch, because what if they mess up. And every once in a while, if it looks like you might escape, they'll activate parts of it, temporarily controlling you, to stop you. It's almost like they're aligning it to you, measuring and calculating to figure out exactly what is needed to control specifically you. And you know all this, all that's going to happen, the moment your opponent takes out the helmet. So you'll be spending every minute up to your eventual demise desperately fighting to prevent that from happening.
But, what does the inside of the machine feel like? Strictly speaking, it's not permanent mind control, not truly. It's just controlling you during your turns. It's hard to interpret what exactly that means outside of the game. I like to think of it as only controlling you when you have energy. The helmet only activates when you have the power to do anything. At the in-between times, at night or in transit, or when you're exhausted after working for them, you're free to think about what's been done to you. Of course, this means that they have an obligation to make sure you're either too tied up to do anything then or too exhausted to try. But isn't that fun?
Another fun thing about this type of mind control in mtg is that there's an in-game component that represents your current plans and ideas, your hand. And, while you're mind controlled, your opponent can see all of your plans and ideas and manipulate them. They can think those ideas for you, and they see what new ideas you think of. They can sort through every thought in your head and put it in different boxes to make sure that no thought of resistance gets through. And I'm sure during those in between moments of freedom you'll try to think your way out of it, but by that point, even your own mind will be stacked against you. Isn't that fun?
Anyway, i think about this a normal amount.
Honestly, you should be grateful I'm giving you a choice here. Most heroes just step on the wrong tile or look at the wrong painting and find themselves with a new set of priorities. You've made it far enough to face me, which is much better than the rest of them can say. Now, choose your fate, and remember this will be the last choice you'll ever make.
Robot wife 💍
Art Tag | Websites
Hey you. Yeah you, the machine/robot/android reading this.
Feed your wetware properly and drink your all purpose fluid (water). Take care of your current chassis or you won't get to operate long enough to upgrade to a mechanical one.
Coming home from a long day to my rice cooker gf and switching her from "independent thinking living person" mode to "keep warm" mode before having dubiously ethical lesbian sex
Shes reduced to babbling and moans as i eat her out (its rice)
Everyone reblog with your most unemployable traits
glimpse into my beautiful imaginary world where arthropods are really big and we domesticated them
edit: people are starting to say some "my worst nightmare" or "eeeww no that one is yucky and scary" comments on this like they do on any bug post and id like to say. it's fine if you don't like bugs it's fine if you're scared of bugs but don't put that on MY post clearly talking about how much i like them and how cute i think they are. you can make your own damn post about how much you hate wasps or spiders or whatever. i'm blocking people who make these kinds of comments.
