Welcome to my blog! If you’re here you’re either autistic, a lesbian or a total loser. But it’s ok, because I’m all three of those things! I’ll post a variety of things on this blog so hopefully you’ll never get bored. I absolutely adore all my mutuals <3
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okay sooo i have a tag game idea! essentially, match up ceramic tiles to you and your s/o or whoever you're shifting for! i found mine on pinterest
i'm doing me and ravi for my spider-verse / marvel / 9-1-1 dr!
tag list ! @girlfanged, @dracuthea, @easyboyrecliner, @evangeliooon, @marcellasdiary, @starlvrz, @byswrld, @sillygirlsalad, @fadeintomia222, @hermanuscript, @ang3leyes, and anyone else that sees this or would like to join!!
Tysm for the tag!!! I’m so sorry it’s taken me forever to get to this. I’ve been so busy with my final semester of college that I’ve been neglecting my social media. I only have one final left before I graduate so I’ll hopefully be posting more content soon.
✮ Supernatural DR: Sarah Winchester and Anastasia Williams
“do I seem anxious to you? do i seem backed into a corner?”
The youngest child of John and Mary Winchester, Sarah was raised alongside Sam and Dean to be soldiers against the supernatural. However, she was much more emotional than her brothers and hesitated to harm monsters, especially those with intellect and sentience similar to humans. Stolen by the demon Lilith she was dragged into purgatory shortly after her fourteenth birthday where she was put through a series of trials to become the perfect vessel for the demon.
Upon escaping Lilith’s clutches and returning to the mortal realm Sarah quickly reunited with her brothers and learned of her father’s death. This uncharacteristically, did not bother her. Throwing herself into hunting Sarah alternates between ruthless and childish, having becoming prone to emotional outbursts. Five years of demonic influence and fighting for survival have changed her, leaving Sam and Dean unsure of how to interact with their baby sister. Will they be able to reestablish a relationship a Sarah or will she fall into madness?
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✮ Name: Sarah Charolette Winchester
✮ Nicknames: Cockroach (by Crowley), Kid, Kiddo,
Sweetheart, The Bane of Purgatory, Lilith’s Bitch, The Sacrificial Undying Lamb
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Due to their nature, spirit touched humans have a variety of abilities that are unique to their spirit type. These abilities are based in the emotion that triggers their creation. That said, wraiths have abilities related to the emotional state of fear. It is worth noting most of these abilities manipulate of influence the emotions, particularly fear, of a wraith’s target.
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Emotion Absorption: Wraiths are able to absorb emotions as a form of sustenance. When in human form, this is done through direct physical contact with the intended individual. In wraith form, the wraith makes eye contact with the intended individual rendering them immobile. The wraith then opens their mouth and releases a screeching sound while consuming the target’s emotions. Consuming the emotions of other humanoids strengthens wraiths and soothes their own inner turmoil. 
Emotion Manipulation: Through emotion abortion wraiths are able to manipulate the emotions of humanoids. For example, if a wraith consumes a person’s happiness, they would be filled with a sense of despair and vice versa. Additionally, gazing into a wraith’s eyes can induce insomnia, nightmares, and an overwhelming sense of fear.
Incorporeal Movement: At the expense of a large amount of energy, wraiths are able to become incorporeal and travel through solid objects. Additionally, they can use the shadows as a means of travel. Due to this ability, there is currently no known method of containing a wraith.
Shadow Self Projection: Wraiths can produce several shadowy projections of themself that act as an extension of their own consciousness. These shadows speak in a language of growls, shrieks, and whispers that the host wraith can understand. Shadow projections are generally more mischievous and occasionally malicious than the wraith themself.
Umbrakinesis: Wraiths are able to create shadows that would otherwise not exist. Additionally, they are able to manipulate shadows to use for various purposes and see in total darkness.
Wraith Form: Similar to hydes, wraiths are able to transform into a secondary form at will. This forms appears as a humanoid shadow with elongated limbs and white, glowing dots for eyes. While in this form, wraiths have access to enhanced abilities and increased range with their umbrakinesis. Wraiths in this form generally reach around 10 - 12 feet in height but can make themselves larger or smaller at will.
kinda motivating as well, i’ve been detached from shifting for some reason, like i can’t find anything to do, i have free time but i also don’t have it 😭 please friends help me lol
what I like about this is not the method itself, but the fact that this user recognized what they needed and adapted their method to fit that 👏🏼
you don’t need a method. but this is what everyone means when they say FIND WHAT WORKS FOR YOU. what resonates with you? what makes the most sense for you? what makes you feel good?
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
“heh- you look like you’ve seen a ghost… or a wraith.”
Spirit touched humans cover a broad range of outcast types. However, they are one of the rarest types of outcasts due to the fact that they are not born, but created. While the exact process behind the creation of spirit touched humans is unknown, there are two consist features:
1. A person must have a strong connection with the spiritual world from an early age.
2. This person must experience an emotional extreme over an extended period of time.
The type of sprit touched human is then determined by the emotion that created them. While these emotions can be positive or negative, there is a slightly larger amount of spirit touched humans created through negative emotions. For example, wraiths are created through fear, poltergeists through anger, and banshees through grief. All spirit touched humans have a common ability, incorporeal movement, but all other abilities are unique to the spirit type.
Taken from an expert of Understanding the Outcast Mind.
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✮ Name: Valerie Everthorn
✮ Age: Fifteen; this is a highschool DR
✮ Star Sign: Taurus
✮ Gender: AFAB Agender, They/Them
✮ Sexuality: Lesbian
✮ MBTI: INTJ-T
✮ Outcast Type: Spirit Touched Human; Wraith
✮ Outcast Abilities: Emotion Absorption and Manipulation, Incorporeal Movement, Shadow Self Projection, Umbrakinesis, Wraith Form
But it is not quiet. Beneath the night sky, the forest is alive with sound. There is a girl, running as fast as she can with the wind whipping at her face. She has been running for so long that she can no longer remember what she is running from. Her head feels like it has been stuffed full of cotton. Any knowledge of herself, who she was, where she came from, alluded her. Her human consciousness had taken a back seat in her mind, leaving a frantic animal scrambling for survival in front. She was wholly unaware of the world around her.
Jumping, twisting, ducking, weaving, branches scratched at the girl’s arms as she kept her face covered. The faint light of the moon barely broke through the treetops, far too dim to illuminate the forest floor. Instead, she ran through the night unable to see even an inch away from her face. The only thing that kept her going was the primal fear deep in her gut and the singular thought that consumed her mind,
Find her.
Suddenly, the girl’s consciousness was thrust to the front of her mind. It felt like she had been living outside of her body, only to be slammed back in without any warning. The girl tumbled over a tree root, her body falling to the crowd. Panic consumed her as she scrambled to her feet, tripping once again over obstacles she could not see. Her mind was a whirlwind of thought, none of them coherent, and all of them blurring together.
Find her! Run! They’re coming!
Voices that didn’t belong to her swirled in the girl’s head and she raised her hands to her head in frustration. Pressing both palms against her temples the girl doubled over and screamed. Suddenly, her mind was quiet and she stilled having forgotten why she was running in the first place. Aggressive rubbing her hands against the peach fuzz growing from her scalp, the girl looked down at herself. Orange jumper, jeans, socks. All of them too large and soaked wet. She couldn’t recall when she had put them all or where she had gotten them in the first place. This was wrong, wasn’t it? This wasn’t what she was supposed to look like. Was she someone else? Her eyes flickered to the inside of her left wrist, looking for a constant that always grounded her, 012. She sighed in relief, she was still her.
Wait… wasn’t she just running from something? Should she still be running. Several low growls emanated from behind her and she spun around. Several baying hounds without faces had caught up and surrounding her in a circle. The face of the hound directly in front of her split into five pieces and let out a terrible shriek. 012 thrust a hand out, stopping the monster mid air. Pain radiated through her temples and she cried out before dropping her hold on the creature. The dog-like creature pawed at the ground, seemingly undisturbed as the others surrounded her stepped closer. It was infuriating.
“STOP IT!” the girl shrieked as the creatures finally lunged at her.
The monsters skidded to a stop, seemingly entranced by the girl’s words. “You,” she said pointing to one of the monsters before beckoning to it with a come hither motion. It stepped forwards while the others waited obediently for their own command. 012 leaned down, running her hands against the cold, wet, head of the monster that had just tried to attack her. “Take. Me. To. Her.” She said clearly, leaving no room for misinterpretation. The monster somehow sniffed at the air despite not having a nose beforewalking past.
012 took several steps back, exiting the circle of monsters as they remained unmoved. Their heads turned and they looked at her with those closed, split, faces. “Kill. Each. Other.” 012 said firmly, before turning on her heel. Dropping down to her hands and knees, she began to crawl like a dog as the sound of teeth tearing apart flesh faded in the distance behind her. Blood flowed from her nose as she followed the final monster even deeper into the darkness.
Find her. Find her. Find her.
A little drabble detailing a shift to a non-scripted Stranger Things DR. I would highly recommend scripting some protection after experiencing this. At least I had powers.
notes: a failed attempt at headcanons (i forgot about the format-style, so they just read as unconnected blurbs).
→ He’d spent the whole afternoon buoyed by the prospect: his father, of all people, had carved out an evening, a formal dinner, as though the four of you were a family stitched together rather than haphazardly stapled. Lucas kept sending you these bright, little glances, as if your presence might guarantee the man’s arrival.
But the clock performs its gradual death: minute hand dragging itself onward, each click a small laceration until he bleeds out. Clare scoffs and leaves like she had predicted this all along. The chair across from you stays obstinately empty. His grin falters first at the edges, then collapses inward, leaving something brittle in its place.
You reach for him but Lucas recoils into that practiced near-shrug, a gesture meant to trivialize the wound even as it bleeds.
“Let’s just go,” he says, already half on his feet, escape being the only dignity left to reclaim.
→ When arousal comes for him, his pupils don’t simply dilate, they engulf, black tides rising until there’s barely a ring of color left. Whatever softness he normally carries evaporates. What’s left is the stare of a creature who’s remembered its hunger.
That slender vein beneath his eye surfaces more prominently, pulsing with a kind of insurgent insistence, as if his body can’t quite keep the truth of his want contained. It’s the smallest thing, that throb, but it exposes him more than any groan or gasp ever could.
→ Lucas has this reflexive instinct to turn your own words into an echo chamber. Whatever confession slips out of you, he seizes it, moulds it back into your ear in his low, ragged voice. You gasp out something reckless — “wanna cum all over your dick” — and he answers with a sharp, hungry little laugh: “yeah? You wanna cum all over my dick?” Sometimes it sounds like he’s teasing you, but sometimes it sounds like the words have been punched out of him.
→ He gets embarrassingly earnest about helping you onto the horse, hands at your waist. Your legs are wobbling like you’re mounting a mythical beast instead of a placid animal, and you irately mumble something about needing a saddle.
Lucas just laughs. Of course you’d demand equipment.
“You’re not riding it,” he says, grinning so hard it borders on painful. “You’re just sitting.”
And he loves — truly loves — the way you cling to him, even when your nails dig into the back of his hand: one hand buried in the horse’s mane like you expect it to detonate beneath you, the other crushing his fingers in a grip that is indicative of a final prayer.
The horse shifts. A single, bored adjustment of weight.
Lucas loses it. Another laugh bursts out of him, bright and boyish, because your whole body reacts like you’ve survived a near-death experience.
“You’re okay!” he insists, still laughing, still holding on to you as though you might evaporate off the creature’s back at any moment.
→ He takes to your wash days with a grave solemnity. The seriousness would be laughable if it weren’t so endearing, eyebrows knit, his lips set, his fingers working through your hair with the painstaking care of a man afraid you might rescind the privilege if he tugs too hard. He sections, detangles, smooths, all with that dogged concentration he reserves for things he genuinely wants to get right. He hardly speaks during it; concentration lends him a monastic air, as though tending to you in this small domesticity grants him a fleeting sense of competence.
And sometimes the favor reverses. His own hair, stringy and neglected in the long aftermath of his mother’s death, has the forlorn quality of something abandoned to the elements. When you guide him to sit, he obeys without protest, shoulders bowed, expression vaguely chastened but ultimately laden with an ever-present fatigue. You work your curl creams through the freshly-washed strands, coaxing life back into them, his eyes closing as if the act of being cared for is almost too much to bear.
→ He accumulates mementos with the tragic fervor of a man convinced that discarding anything is tantamount to erasing himself. Lucas cannot release what wounds him; he broods over old slights, old griefs, letting them steep in him like bitter tea. Yet the same instinct makes him cling to the smallest relics of tenderness.
Cinema tickets are the clearest proof. You might forget the film entirely, mediocre drama in a half-empty theatre, popcorn that had the same consistency as cardboard, but Lucas keeps the tickets. A corrugated wrapper from a snack you handed him once without thinking. Receipts too, curling at the edges: a dessert you insisted on paying for, a bookstore you dragged him into, a grocery run where nothing happened except that you walked beside him.
He doesn’t arrange any of it. No scrapbook, no journal, no curated shrine. Not like his mom had. He simply places each scrap into a plain box, a little reliquary of inconsequential moments that became, for him, unbearably significant.
→ When pleasure overruns his composure, it blooms at the corners of his eyes. A faint lacquer of moisture gathers there, betraying him long before he can marshal whatever threadbare dignity he thinks he possesses. The overstimulation overwhelms him and his body responds with those involuntary tears, the way a glass sweats under heat. Lucas is a very pretty crier.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
my moots LOVE this tag game down omg I'm being tagged LEFT AND RIGHT thank you for the tag my loves @feralamb @sorenverse @ryanmirae @angeliqirl @linasdreamnotes @easyboyrecliner
3. currently reading: I just started reading uzumaki! i got the book as an xmas gift last year and haven't touched it lmao
4. currently watching: I picked up "a fragrant flower blooms with dignity" which is cute so far but I'm still on the fence on if I want to keep watching....
5. currently craving: apple cider <3 but my favorite spot in my city hasn't put it out this year so f me I guess. just gonna have to yearn.
6. coffee or tea? I mostly drink tea because too much caffeine makes me anxious/tired (I don't know why either) but I love coffee </3
tags: @etrnlvesper @swagfiles @anhelically @ferriescent @shiftinlace @lyridial, plus anyone else!!
jbbartram-illu
gummygunk
baratheonpilled
blakekathryn
jacobvanloon
