chronicles of a tired sadblob.

[about] /// [tags]

[voidthing]

i'm too stuck in my own head and always forget that i can just, like. say things here. anything at all. i don't need anyone's permission for that. this is my blog. i can do what i want and no one can stop me. hello. aaaaa. hjklhjklhjkl. asdfasdfsk. just to make a point.

[voidthing]

Komm, süßer Tod

A necrophile recounts how his desires were awakened.

category & rating: M/F, explicit word count: 6,700 words prompt: June 3 | Necrophilia for @unwholesomeocweek additional warnings: underage masturbation

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When I was a kid, I used to roam around outside a lot. It was normal back then that kids would spend their time outdoors messing around without their parents knowing where they were, not like today where something like that seems unthinkable, or so I hear. One day, in third or fourth grade I think, I was roaming the woods at the edge of town, not too far from my childhood home, like I often did when I had nothing better to do, when I came across a dead body. The corpse of a young woman. It was laid to rest in a very shallow hole. I don't know if the hole was already there, a natural ditch, or if someone dug it specifically for her; it was the right size though and fit her well. The body wasn't covered up at all, just lying there, out in the open, for all the world to see. She looked so very peaceful.

I remember, when I first found her, I was scared. I knew instinctively that something was wrong, very wrong, and that this woman was dead. And I felt this fear with my entire being. Heart racing and everything. She was so unnaturally pale and just lay there, motionless, with open eyes. What I didn't know at the time was, the body was still fresh. Very fresh. I approached her, slowly, didn't call out to her, didn't try to talk to her, knew that she wouldn't answer anyway. I could tell that much. There were lots of dead leaves all around her, and I kneeled down beside her. Just looked at her. She was beautiful.

[Read the full text on AO3]

[voidthing]

It's a hell of a feeling though

A teen girl is talked into performing sexual services.

category & rating: M/F, explicit word count: 3,000 words prompt: June 2 | Coercion for @unwholesomeocweek additional warnings: adult/teen relationship, rape, dubious consent, underage sex, underage drinking

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I pick Samantha up, a few blocks down from her mom's apartment. She throws her bag in the backseat and gets in the passenger seat herself. I lean over to kiss her.

"It's good to see you," I say. It makes her smile and she gives me another kiss.

Her mom doesn't know about me, and it's certainly for the better. Sam's a freshman and I'm more than ten years her senior. Her mom works a lot though, so it's easy enough to avoid her. We even fucked in Sam's bed once, in the room she shares with her little sister, while both of them were out. No big deal. I'm more concerned about nosy neighbors potentially seeing us and telling her about it. I'd rather avoid that if possible. I don't know what exactly she tells her mom, but officially, Sam is staying with a friend from school, like every time when she's actually with me. Her mom doesn't seem to care, or maybe she's glad to have Sam out of the house. Who knows. Suits me just fine either way.

[Read the full text on AO3]

[voidthing]

So let me feel your gaze

A father has developed a questionable interest in his pubescent daughter.

category & rating: M/F, explicit word count: 1,700 words prompt: June 2 | Proxy Sex ("Character A has sex with character B while thinking of character C" [via]) for @unwholesomeocweek additional warnings: incest, a father fantasizing about his daughter

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When my daughter's breasts started to bud, something started budding inside me, too. I don't know why. I never looked at Amy in this way before. Never had an interest in other children either, at all. This was wholly new and unfamiliar for me. But suddenly, looking at her made me feel things. Things no one should feel for their child. I can't help it though, can't shake these feelings. I'm not sure I want to anyway. What's wrong with enjoying it? I'm not going to touch her. I would never do that to her. So why not savor it? She's a beautiful girl in my eyes and looking can't hurt anyone. And really, I can't get enough of her. Of that adorable smile, those full lips. Her round cheeks and the delicate neck. Those small bumps on her chest. The little butt. Can you blame me? I'm a proud father.

[Read the full text on AO3]

[voidthing]

And there will be no tenderness

Jess wants to leave her husband. He's not having it.

category & rating: M/F, explicit word count: 2,900 words prompt: June 1 | Hatefucking, Violence, Divorce for @unwholesomeocweek additional warnings: intimate partner violence, spousal rape, choking

[Read on AO3]

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"I want a divorce."

"What?"

Jess looks down at me and tilts her head slightly, pauses.

"It's over. I'm leaving you," she says.

"Come on, you can't mean that," I stammer, and it comes out more like a question than a statement.

She sighs, raises her eyebrows. Almost like she's talking to a child who won't listen, clearly annoyed. "I have enough of this. All of it. I'm done with you."

I stare at her. Stunned, bewildered. Shaking my head. My mouth falls open but it takes a while before sounds come out. "Are you– are you serious?"

She stands right in front of me, sitting on the couch, her legs slightly spread, fists resting on her hips, with a deep frown. She always does that, this pose. Makes herself seem big and intimidating. And it works on me, I admit that, it does work. Because I’m a wimp and easily intimidated. I don't like fighting and hate it when people get angry. So I try to defuse the situation and do the only thing I’m familiar with: I cower. I coo. I make myself small and put on my softest voice. She always takes advantage of that, too, it's always the same. But I try, I still try anyway. It's all I can do.

"Please, honey. We can talk about this. Let's talk first. Sit down."

"There's nothing to talk about."

I shift around nervously. She's always like this, and it drives me up the wall. I'm used to her refusing to talk to me and making decisions on her own without consulting with me, and I've learned to accept that and let her have her way when it comes to small, everyday matters, even if it means swallowing my pride more often than not. That's simply how she is – stubborn, obstinate, intractable. But not like this. Not in this case. Just this once, I deserve to have a say, too.

"If there's a problem, you can always talk to me. I thought you know that."

"I've made my decision. And it's final. I'm simply informing you."

It's a one-sided decision, yet again. She has enough, she says, and what? She can simply decide to throw away not only her own life but mine too because of that? Everything we worked for together? Everything we built together? Just like that? Just because she has enough? That's not fair!

And why now? We're putting two kids through college. What about them? Couldn't she at least wait until they both graduated? It's so selfish of her. So typical. Inconsiderate, as usual. Reckless. She gets her will and others have to deal with the consequences.

"Just tell me what to do. We can work something out. Please."

"There's nothing you can do," she says, surprisingly softly. "This isn't the life I wanted. I can't go on like this."

The life she wanted? This woman does whatever she wants all the time! I don't keep her chained at home. In fact, I mostly stay out of her way. She has friends, hobbies, her church group. In what way would leaving me change any of that? Or improve her life? She already has all the freedom she could want!

"And what kind of life would that be?"

She stares at me and furrows her brows, but says nothing. The implication that hangs in the room, unspoken, is 'one without you'.

I can't believe this. We've been together for twenty-seven years. It can't end like this!

"You have no reason to divorce me!" 'No right' is what I really wanted to say.

"This conversation is over."

"This conversation is over when I say it," I bark, and Jess flinches.

My voice came out louder than intended. It surprised me too. I don't usually raise my voice, quite the opposite. It's Jess who starts yelling when she's angry, at the slightest provocation, and I'm expected to take it, or else she only gets louder. What's even more surprising is her reaction. I made her flinch. That felt good. It's a crack in the surface. A sign of weakness. Something I don't get to see otherwise. It made something inside me stir. A hardness and resolve in the pit of my stomach, forming a lump that quivers and convulses, compressed under immense pressure. Something that seeks to break free. Something that's about to burst and explode.

Divorce? No. No, I won't allow it.

I jump to my feet and Jess actually has to take a step back because I'm suddenly very close, too close, right in her face. I give her a push and she stumbles backward, flails her arms to keep her balance.

She stares at me, wide-eyed. Frozen in shock, like a deer in the headlights. I've never seen her like this before. I raise my finger, point it at her.

"You can't just leave me," I say with a calm but firm voice.

Hearing that, Jess snaps out of it, returns to her usual self. Her face darkens.

"Yes, I can, and I will."

"You won't!" I shout.

A moment of silence hangs between us.

Jess bursts out laughing.

The tension inside me reaches its physical limit, and it suddenly unloads in a burst of energy when I close the gap and rush towards Jess. I shove her into the chairs and the dining table with all my strength. She falls, crying out, lands on her side. I grab her arm and pull her upper body off the floor.

"You won't!" I shout again. "You won't!"

She tries to get up and I let her, help her even. Back on her feet, she shoves me away and before I can think, my right arm pulls back, seemingly by itself, and my fist lands in her face. Just like that. It all happens so fast. Jess topples down, lands on her knees. She holds her cheek with one hand, gasping, unable to make a sound.

I'm not a violent person. I've never hit my wife before, not even once. I'm in a daze, everything around me blurring, disappearing. The rush of blood makes my ears ring. I feel lightheaded. Seeing her like this is shocking. Bent over and certainly in pain. It feels empowering. It's so invigorating. My body is flooded with a cold, prickling sensation, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I can feel every fiber in the muscles of my arms, can feel them contracting, tensing up. I beat the back of her head with my fist.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?!" I scream.

I beat her again. Jess puts her arms around her head, but I keep punching, hammering her with the bottom of my fist. She lowers her head to the ground and makes herself as small as possible, hiding under what little protection her arms offer. I take a step back and look down at her, at the pathetic bundle of a person in front of me. She's breathing hard. I can see her arched back rising and falling. So far, she hasn't made a sound.

I have never felt bigger and stronger in my life. I have never felt more in control of myself.

Jess pushes herself off the ground, leaning on one arm and holding her head with the other hand. She raises her upper body fully, sitting on her knees, panting, and shoots me a glare. I tower over her and clench my fists. Despite that, she starts to get up.

I used to do anything to maintain the peace in our marriage. But that's unmistakably over and in the past. Kept up appearances. Acted the good little husband for her. But no more. No longer. I've had it, too. Enough of this farce. Enough.

I push her over as she tries to get back on her feet, push her to the ground. It's really so easy. I have no issue manhandling her. Who would have thought? And it's so freeing. It feels so right. So very right. And so I hold her down and get on top of her and punch her in the fucking face with my fist and then I do it again. Jess puts her hands up in defense.

"I was so good to you," I yell at her between punches. "I did anything you asked. Cared for you. Tried to make you happy. I listened to you. Cleaned the dishes. Put away the laundry. What the hell else do you want? I gave you everything! You stupid bitch!"

I grab her jaw, lean in close. Pause before I continue, to gather myself and calm down for a moment, to weigh my next words. I look her in the eyes. Her fear is tangible. It's riveting. Delectable.

"And you, you just want to throw all that away? And for what? For what end? Do you think you will be happier without me? That I hold you back somehow? As if you didn't already do whatever the fuck you wanted, no matter what I say." I let out a sharp sigh and hold her gaze. "So what, what's the point? Didn't you have it good enough with me? Do you think you could do better than this? Do you really think there's someone better out there, just waiting for you? For you?"

I don't wait for an answer. Instead, I strike her in the face.

"You ungrateful piece of shit. You're nothing without me. Nothing!"

I grab her face, force her to look at me. She twists, wants to pull away, but I don't let her. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to shake her head.

"What did you think would happen? What the fuck did you think?! That I say yes and that's it? Just cower again, take the beating? Take it like a little bitch? Like the little bitch you thought I was?"

The anger inside me is boiling. It's a real, physical sensation. I can feel it surge and wash over me. It's sharp, bright, and burning hot, seething under my skin and searing as it courses through my veins, numbing all other sensations. A frenzied feeling; something that's straining to get out, seeking to escape. I unload a flurry of punches on her face with both of my fists. Jess raises her hands in defense, desperately tries to hold me back.

Something broke in me. Those magic words she uttered took off the self-imposed chains. Really, I was deluding myself. I fucking hate that bitch. It feels good to finally admit it. Hate, how that word rolls off the tongue. Hate. Excellent mouthfeel. Harsh, pointed. Hate, hate, hate. Fuck.

I let the hate flow freely now. Channel it into my fists. Materialize it. Beat her and beat her. Jess is still holding her hands up, though the beating must be getting to her. She hardly resists, barely makes a sound. Even when the hits smack her face, there's little reaction coming from her at this point. Her head just bops left and right under the force of my punches, that's all.

There is blood running down from her nostrils and over her cheek. Her lip is busted, her left eye has started to swell. There's blood on my knuckles, too, but I can't tell whose it is. The way I'm beating her, my fists should be hurting by now, but I don't feel any pain.

I stop the beating and take a deep breath. Good. This is good. It feels right. She deserves it. I deserve it. I really needed this. And I'm not done with her yet. No. I decide that I want more.

Jess is groaning and seems disoriented, still trying to stop my punches, even though none are coming. I get off her and start working on her pants. I open the button and zipper, pull them down along with the panties. She just lets me, too out of it to offer any resistance.

"Stop, please stop..." she whimpers and I'm surprised she's still able to speak, but I don't listen anyway.

Her hands are aimlessly waving about, looking for an opponent that isn't there. I follow suit and take my own pants off, position myself between her legs and start making my cock hard. It doesn't take long. Dry as she is, it won't just go in though. My tip enters unhindered, but there's some pinching and friction when I try to move and penetrate her fully. That won't stop me, however. I ram my cock into her by force, pumping in and out of her to spread her natural wetness around. It doesn't take long before her cunt lubricates itself under my thrusts, to my surprise, and I start fucking her and get into a rhythm.

"Help," she lets out, quietly. For what? There's no one here who could hear her, no one who could help.

I answer her plea with a punch in her face; then another one. I curse her out as I pound into her. Slap her, and it makes my cock feel very good. Jess puts her arms over her face in defense. Hide all you want, I don't care and fuck into her harder. My cock made her pussy nice and wet, and the sound of naked flesh slapping against naked flesh fills the living room.

But looking down at her like this is giving me an idea. Covering her face has left her neck fully exposed, and so I put both of my hands around her throat and squeeze, holding onto her while my cock slides in and out. It's really good. Makes me feel so powerful and in control, how vulnerable she is in this position, fragile, pinned down. I only heard about choking from people who griped about violent pornography and how all the young people were doing it nowadays. I never knew what I was actually missing out on. I wish I knew before. Then again, Jess would have never let me do that to her willingly. And this, this is all the more fun.

It doesn't take long before Jess grabs my wrists, tries to pull me away, unsuccessfully of course, then beats against my forearms, but it's all too little, barely worthy of note, not nearly enough to get me off her. I'm not a strong man by any means, but this much? It's laughable. By now, the panic has returned some of her capacities. She seems more alert again, the way she stares at me with wide-opened eyes, firmly gripping my arms. She twists, attempting to get away from under me.

I put my weight into it to keep her down and choke her harder. Her cunt twitches around my cock. I can feel it and that, too, feels good. Real good.

Her head slowly falls to the side, her grip on my arms loosens, and her movements gradually fade out. I slap her and she comes to her senses again, gasps for air and groans. All the while, I keep fucking her.

It's been months since we had sex, and I don't remember the last time I enjoyed it. Now I do though. I definitely do enjoy this. It's great to finally let loose and lay into her, fuck her like a piece of meat. Like she deserves. Feels fantastic. My cock feels fantastic too. It's throbbing inside her, so swollen and plump, pumped so full of blood, it might just burst. The hardest erection I've ever had. I can feel it pulsing and dripping.

And I can feel my orgasm approaching. I let go of her neck and punch her in the face, twice, then begin to moan and shoot my cum deep into her cunt. Keep pounding, frantically, harder and harder. The orgasm rolls over me in waves and gives me goosebumps. It seems almost endless, that moment. I've never cum this hard before. Fuck.

And then I laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh. And in that moment, I finally felt happy. I finally felt bliss. Yes, this was good. Real good. Real fucking good. It felt so right.

She always pushed me around. Always made me feel small. Made me walk on egg shells around her. Always nagging, taking out her mood on me. And I let her. Let her walk all over me. And why? For our sake. Because I told myself she didn't mean it, that she had a rough day and just needed to let off some steam; told myself that it doesn't hurt me, even when I knew damn well it did. Didn't want to rock the boat. That's what it means to be married. You put up with each other, in good times as in bad times, you stick together, no matter what. And because I told myself that I loved her. But the truth is, I was weak. I was a wimp. Lived under her thumb like a fucking pussy.

But no more. No longer. It's over. No more being pushed around. I won't let her treat me like that ever again. I won't let her get away that easily either. We're done when I say we're done. From now on, I will assert my natural rights as her husband. 'til death do us fucking part, bitch.

[voidthing]

happy month, fellow slurs.

[voidthing]

unwholesome oc week is about to start and i have now spent five weeks preparing for that. what i have written so far is: violent rape; sexual coercion slash underage rape by virtue of one partner (14-15 yo) being blackout drunk; necrophile desecrating a corpse as a child; incestuous rape; a teacher/high school student relationship; a school shooter fangirl featuring self-harm, wound fucking and fantasies of mass shootings, among other things; and lastly i'm about to write a text about a father who fantasizes about his pubescent daughter. isn't that fucking lovely? you want unwholesome, you can get unwholesome.

[voidthing]

week 22

- bauernfrühstück. potato pancakes. curry. - went on a walk every day. not only that but even did long (5.5 km) rounds on five out of seven days!! pogo says it was 32 km total this week, which sounds about right and is lot! - saw geese and their offspring again on four days. lots of them sunday! the other days it was just one pair plus two goslings each time, but on sunday i saw first a whole flock of canada geese grazing and then three pairs with offspring together. saw bats while out late on two evenings. - more heat and humidity. very soupy air. two thunderstorms on friday. - pretty migrainy week overall. ugh. that drags everything down and certainly didn't make the reading and writing easier, i can tell you that. - worked on my sixth unwholesome oc week entry, but mostly didn't and procrastinated a lot. wrote most of it in two days and finished it though. tomorrow the posting will finally start. ideally, i should write another text to have the full week... let's see if i can manage. - still reading siege of burning grass by premee mohamed and still not done with it. it's a bit of a drag and not capturing my interest.

[myfootyrthroat]

Lotta people who talk a big game about their marginalization have what I'll refer to as "big HOA energy".

[myfootyrthroat]

The most rancid, hateful person you can imagine who spends hours a day attacking their allies over perceived slights, and then has "Fix your hearts or die. Love conquers all." in their profile.

[pukicho]

Just had an evil thought. I am morally compromised. Even though I disagreed with it, I still thought it. I cannot be trusted.

[willgrahamscock]

you’re always posting about some faggot shit

hell yeah brother

[wildehacked]

things in fic I'm used to people kind of faking their way through writing about:

the city of los angeles

the city of new york

sex

how drinking alcohol works

how getting high works

how a child of any age speaks

how nuclear physics work

how [my job] works

how debilitating being shot in the shoulder is

how hypothermia works

things I have never before seen someone fake their way through writing about, until today:

what french toast is

[headspace-hotel]

read through the notes on this one trust me

[kiragecko]

Here's some of the notes, starting with the things multiple people brought up:

SHRIMP COCKTAIL:

banahbanah: #flashback to that one fic where Peter Parker frets about drinking shrimp cocktail because of the alcohol

generaldeliciousness: adding: what a prawn/shrimp cocktail is

#why is your character turning it down because they're under 21 #do you think prawn cocktail is a cocktail #this lives in my brain rent-free constantly #the rest of the fic was so normal #and good enough that i'll still re-read it #but bro

And then many, MANY, people wondering if this was actually authour mistake, since Peter really would do this!

POMEGRANATES:

zhajhassa: #haha where's that post that was like someone describing someone eating a pomegranate but they ate it like an apple

thornhands: #once someone wrote persephone biting into a whole Pomegranate #had to stop and stare at a wall for a minute

sungsingsanguine: I once saw someone very confidently write about a character eating slices of pomegranate.

FRUIT TREES:

zagreuses-toast: #given a very endearing glimpse into a writers blindspots by seeing them describe someone sitting under a ''pineapple tree''

salatrash: I remember something about picking watermelons... OF A FUCKING TREE

baander: #cranberry trees

DOUGH/BATTER:

maycelium: #I'm a chef so I'm really used to people not accurately describing how to cook food #But I was surprisingly flabbergasted when someone was writing making a cake and was kneading it. Which uh #Not necessary for cake. It was interesting for sure but just bizarre

livebloggingmydescentintomadness: #the one that drove me nuts was when a character set aside a batch of PASTA DOUGH 'to rise' #pasta doesn't have yeast!! #it does need to REST but it will never RISE #you do not want an airy crumb on your noodles

lovesodeepandwideandwell: #THE ONE WHERE THEY MADE COOKIES BY LADLING BATTER INTO A TRAY

Some other topics:

ANIMALS:

catenarwhal: #mandatory 'how cows produce milk' mention#i'll never recover from that one I fear

piromantic: #one time i saw someone fake their way through describing how spiders behave

pluto-lichen: horses

misskittypotter: #stardew valley faking its way through what fresh fish smell like

pa-pa-plasma: #saw someone faking their way through knowing what a seal is once #i still am fucked up over that one to this day. they just straight up did not know #& they were NOT good at guessing it either like it was clear they had never googled that animal ever #& was only just now realizing via answering questions from anons that seals are not!! what they assumed. initially

SEX:

dykevandyke: #what a prostate is #and where it is located #as in. external.

dreamyeyedrose: #I remember back in the ff.net days reading an Ichigo/Renji fic where the writer assumed the penises go inside each other #and I was like “I mean I don't know how it works for sure I don't have one but idk if that's how it works”

SOME OTHER FOOD STUFF:

thetrekkiehasthephonebox: #add another one to the list bloggers#this character is cooking a salad

shosta: #still baffled about the published work that didn't know food could freeze

sun-dari: #once i read a fic where the author didn't understand cinnamon

alto-tenure: #read something recently where the author was just. blatantly wrong about spices

dramatic-dolphin: #i saw someone try to fake their way through what ramen is once. like 14 years ago.#but i remember.#i was very confused about ramen for a few months. they were writing it so authoritatively.

the-celery-stalks-at-midnight: #i will never ever forget someone putting leftover fries in the microwave to reheat them and setting the timer for five minutes

typeghost: #this sparked a memory of a hannibal fic where the author had to fake their way through writing about gravy

draculin: #the one fanfic where the author knows about coffee only as a concept wrote a character as a coffee drinker#was very interesting#I don't remember the fandom or the plot but I was mesmerized by the coffee actions and choices

11235811235811: #there's a lot of faking their way thru congee in the svsss fandom i'll also note

fishali3n: #read one where the person clearly didnt know what tofu is

emmy-everafter: #in the aftermath of shadow and bone s2 i saw a lot of people pretending to know what stroopwafels are #babes they are more like cookies than breakfast waffles #like yes there is a waffle pattern but you're not gonna cut into a stack of them with syrup and sugar#🤣🤣🤣

NON-FOOD STUFF:

red-umbrella-811: Shoutout to Dame Agatha Christie for faking her way through what a wrench is in a very popular published work.

bluebeetle: #once saw someone have a character put an entire phone book in their pocket

nonametis: #- sex talk in languages other than english #<- or just the petnames in a different language other than English

sadisticpony: #the fanfiction i saw this week where op DIDNT KNOW HOW AUTOMATIC DOORS WORKED #and that they arent in peoples homes!!! of course. also opening the automatic door for someone is unironically very funny but its not #its not like. grabbing the door handle to let someone in. helpppp

danmeichael: #reminds me of the fic with the figure drawing class where the character started with the feet. #i love you feet first figure drawing author

meowmix1100blr: #me watching this one fic absolutely obliterate what the board of directors does

vexedhexes: #one time i read an architect character making a doorway bigger by building a bigger door #what a beautiful world. #OH. also gravity falls fic where they go 'oh piedmont is in california so its warm all year round'

leveragehunters: #characters going to a beer garden #And it's literally a garden outside the pub#It was a very cute mistake

fitofpique: #yes! #grown men do not get blind drunk off two beers #but i am possibly guilty of the hypothermia one #assuming it does not make you very horny?

dadvans-likes: #always thinking abt the soup kitchen fic #the entire setting of the fic was 'soup kitchen' #and i very quickly realized #the author did not know what a soup kitchen was #and they thought that soup kitchens only served soup #fic

msmargaretmurry: #i love fanfiction #once read a fic where the characters played 20 questions #but the author seemed to not know how to play 20 questions and was just kind of winging it........ #immaculate

shakespeareaddict: #Look I know not all of us are hockey experts #But it takes about ten seconds of research or any attention paid to the show to realize #That the Stanley cup playoffs are not in fucking September

baejax-the-great: #the funniest one i saw #was someone faking what church is like #like 1. they really didn't have to write an entire church experience for their fic #and 2. they had clearly never even watched a show where people went to church #it was bonkers weird

twosunson: #things ive seen authors faking #knowing how to unclog a drain #knowing. literally any history #knowing what ketamine looks like (apparently- oregano) #(you know who you are)

waterhorseyblues-ao3: #beltane being celebrated in winter #wales being portrayed as a completely separated land from england (i wish) #characters getting up after weeks of bedrest like that dosnt completely fuck you up

violetfairydust: #i once read a fic where the flight time from london to seattle was 3 hours

purekesseltrash: One time, in a fic set specifically in Des Moines, IA, two of the characters casually drove 20 minutes to the ocean. The memory continues to delight me. I want to know where that author thought that Iowa was.

[voidthing]

[kuma-kami]

Visit Original Link

[snowdaysforever]

DELETE THIS POST

[theoldspaceevibes-deactivated20]

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

[froborr]

*clicks play in morbid curiosity*

*hammers reblog button*

[chongoblog]

I think I find this post every April Fools Day and I am so happy that I do

[celtic-pyro-deactivated20230725]

[theperksofneurodivergency]

“Emotional abuse works like this: You are screamed at, and then, not knowing any better, you stand up for yourself. You think this is a way of being strong. You think this is a defense tactic.But this only provokes more screaming. Going silent provokes more screaming too, but usually it keeps the threats to the minimum. It keeps it just at screaming and not: a shove down the stairs, or order to pack your stuff and get out. So you learn how to go silent. How to play dead. How to cry without making a noise. How to swallow noise. How to wipe your cheeks, get out of the car, and go about your day. You learn. And when the screaming has stopped, when the two of you are in the car or out to dinner and they’re all smiles, all asking for favors, all questions, you are still hurt and annoyed and want to ask them, how? How can you speak to me like that? How can you pretend you did not say those things? How can you have forgotten? But you’ve learned. So you listen to, “Can I borrow your key”s and “how was your day”s and you play dead. You swallow the noise. And sometimes it doesn’t matter who is speaking to you, it doesn’t matter if they’re a friend, it doesn’t matter if their criticism is constructive, it doesn’t matter. You’ve learned. Any sort of speaking, any raising of the voice, any insult and you play dead.”

— Good Girl, Lora Mathis (via lora-mathis)

[luckyladylily]

I've known a number of non binary people in my life and I think single biggest conclusion I can draw from that is that non binary people are not the same. Like if Men fit in box A and women fit in box B, people really, really want nonbinary people to fit in a theoretical box C, and it just doesn't work like that. They are outside the boxes. They defy any simple categorization because they are not a third way of being, but every other possible way of being.

Being supportive of binary people is relatively simple, they have decided to sort themselves into one of the boxes that we have lots of experience interacting with. Being supportive of nonbinary people can be comparatively tricky, because you have to resist the urge to create box C and drop them all there. That's how we end up with various prejudices like "woman lite". Humans really, really like to categorize things. It helps us think. Unfortunately, sometimes it helps us think wrong.

If you have a non binary person in your life, I think it is important to take the extra effort to learn about them specifically.

[recherchen-und-archiv]

Man kann ja über die deutsche Literatur sagen was man will aber Märchen haben schon sehr damit gekocht, dass der standard Abschlussatz "Und wenn sie nicht gestorben sind, dann leben sie noch heute." geworden ist. Großartige Anreihung von Worten. Ja, I guess wenn sie nicht gestorben sind, dann leben sie noch heute. Kann man nichts gegen sagen. Waren sie glücklich bis ans Ende ihrer Tage? Wer weiß! Aber solange sie nicht gestorben sind dann leben sie noch. Logischer Rückschluss oder so.