#// do you really want food poisoning by iron man?

[universalthaumaturge]

Nobilis Dash Simulator

❤️‍🔥 theworkofhellisholy Follow

i love you shipping discourse i love you having to make accounts for everything i love you small talk i love you esophageal cancer i love you deforestation i love you scabs you can't help but pick even though you're not supposed to i love you scabs as in strikebreakers i love you unbearably hot weather in winter i love you people who film strangers in public without their consent i love you prion disease i love you car-based infrastructure i love you gallstones i love you stock market i love you enshittification i lov

36 notes

🌳 sneacensnoveonthesnorldsnash Follow

just ate an elfsciene panini for the first time and cried i love u world

🌺 flore7 Follow

i'm dying of cake so i can't really eat it without being crushed to death by a giant cake mountain but aelfscienne's is so good i don't even care anymore LOL

🌳 sneacensnoveonthesnorldsnash Follow

i want you carnally

🪲 lord-entropy-official Follow

Why do I even bother anymore.

607,789 notes

🐶 surolam Follow

Remember to use miracles responsibly! There has been a surprising increase in dementia animus cases lately.

lakedrinker10000-deactivated60231212

and what if we don't?

👨‍⚖️ locourtbailiff Follow

oh thats simple! TEN THOUSAND LOCUST ATTACK 🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗

12,144 notes

🕵️ illegalregal Follow

ok i know we're meant to "enact vengeance no more than sevenfold unto their crime" or whatever but what the fuck does that MEAN????

🕵️ illegalregal Follow

like, if an excrucian eats the leftovers i had on my fridge, do i eat their food? do i punch them (but softly enough that it's not over 7x as worse as having your leftovers stolen!)?? is there a conversion guide somewhere. how the hell do you MEASURE that?????

7 notes

🦑 yog-sazasthur Follow

Kids these days TOO FOCUS on their damned CELL-PHONES..... They should be Eating... Having Sex... And Wriggling !

30,054 notes

👽 prescottsdaddy Follow

do you think cneph and harumaph ever explored eachother's bodies

cneph Follow

we did

👽 prescottsdaddy Follow

dude's literally roleplaying as the great maker and the angels in the notes are calling ME blasphemous???

90,732 notes

☠️ chattering-monkeys-and-parrots Follow

kys. just in general

🧍‍♂️ the-light-is-perfection Follow

excuse you???

☠️ chattering-monkeys-and-parrots Follow

kys in particular

281,667 notes

👼 graceful-invader Follow

guys the voice of the creator is telling me we should kiss eachother with tounge. this is what heaven needs

733,712 notes

🔨 warry-in-main Follow

just did my first tempering and it turns out the dude was lactose intolerant

🐻 peregrine-twink Follow

aw man that sucks. is there anything we can do to help?

🔨 warry-in-main Follow

take my test boy

1,907 notes

🧸 dailydahlia Follow

Why do people still think i'm a mimic?!

#seriously guys! #longfurby is RIGHT THERE.

1 note

💠 itfuckenwildy Follow

god i fucking hate it here

🎩 qistjannuja Follow

Hate? No no no my enemy, you don't "hate" creation. Not really.

Let me tell you about actual hate. Pure, undiluted, wyrdbound Hate.

I was ROYALTY. I ruled over my lands with a kind hand and an iron fist and we THRIVED. But then, the little prick you call a maker fucking drowned it all in… in THIS. This grimy, glitched, causational mess you dare to call home.

If that was it, I'd be pissed. I'd be furious, even. But that's not all.

It had the AUDACITY to poison me with its substance. I physically can't stay in the void because it leaks out and poisons it too. And when I come back, guess what? It kills me. Over and over and over and over. I've died five times this month. Died of HORSES. Imagine getting stampeded on just for daring to exist, **WHICH I DON'T BY THE WAY**.

And you know what? if that was it, I could take it. If that was it, I would just take the L and try to adapt. I would try to find beauty in the world, you know? stop and smell the flowers? But GUESS WHAT. Your "great maker" DIDN'T EVEN MAKE THE WORLD RIGHT. It's all... eugh.

I can't stand the creation simps who try to defend it but HARUMAPH-MY-WITNESS I FUCKING DESPISE the ones who think they hate it more than me. YOU DON'T. Fuck you. I'll world-breaker's hand you. Bitch.

💠 itfuckenwildy Follow

nvm i love it here. where else would you get shit like this

🎭 gaathika-aupa-yochelm Follow

"i'll world-breaker's hand you. bitch." LMAOOO i bet this dumbass doesn't even have the drunkard's gift

🎩 qistjannuja Follow

It's none of your fucking business, ""Aupa"", and besides, it seems you don't understand what an ANALOGY is.

"World-Breaker's Handing" someone is simply meant to imply utterly and retroactively erasing them, something your deceiveroid intellect probably wouldn't comprehend anyways.

I am a Votary in my Dream-of-Self and a Dustcloak of my Sphere, I don't need some paltry Wyrd-trick to kill either of you.

🎭 gaathika-aupa-yochelm Follow

🌌 not-heritage-posts Follow

Not-Heritage Post

124,801 notes

🌸 botanyhellyeah Follow

my gf mde fun of me bc i cant open the jar of pickle but shes a supernal martialart master and im jsut a little motal i'm not even miraculous in natures

🧘‍♂️ zulander Follow

Rosie, sweetheart, do you remember the miraculous bracers you made? the ones with the oak leaves, that make you as strong as a noble when you say the command word? the ones you're wearing right now?

🌸 botanyhellyeah Follow

FUFK

25,678 notes

👥 weamlegion0015 Follow

normalize consuming peolpe and incorporating them into the unliving matrix of your pseudoself! ^u^

🪀 jojotun Follow

Are you an actual

👥 weamlegion0015 Follow.

no what makes u say that? :P

🪀 weamlegion0016 FOLLOW.

aah it was nohting! my bad XD

20 notes

🤫 iolithae Follow

this joke format is still funny and relevant

5 notes

👚 dionylsus Follow

look it's not a sex thing when i pretend to be a set of human clothes and my partner wears me to the movies, ok? we do it so we don't have to pay two tickets. putting me in the washing machine IS a sex thing though

120 notes

cneph Follow

can someone please get me out of this fiddle. the wi-fi is great but i can't stretch without getting splinters

0 notes

🌟 ananda Follow

I might have accidentally let a few urbana escape into the prosaic. Stay safe out there.

141,235,813 notes

👨 im-an-anchor-you-wankor Follow

WHY THE FUCK IS MY TRASH CAN BITING ME

[sapphic-agent]

You wanna know who the #1 beneficiary of the tech power creep is in this series? Momo. One thing this mech suit shows is that Momo totally wasted her time trying to beat people with sticks. The idea of trying to create items in a battle as a form of problem solving is stupid, or at best, should be done as a last resort. Her power was always meant for technology. That's the true power in this world. She should have been trying to be Ironman. You know how All Might spent his fortune on the suit, and that was meant to be a limiting factor as to why this tech can't be widely used? Well, guess who has the ability to generate materials with no cost. Even the idea of her inventions requiring studying to make things more complex stops holding water when you look at the torture device she tried to strap Midoriya into during Class A vs Deku. She made that in an instant and it posed an immediate threat. What could she make if she wasn't trying to do it during stressful battles with enemies right in front of her? So, her limiting factor really is her ability to study advanced concepts and have people explain them to her, and most importantly, what an author is willing to let her do. The path forward for her was always to pay people smarter and more educated than her to invent things and then she can have them explain it to her so she can recreate it. If her family had paid the cost to design that Iron Might suit, then she'd pay it. Once. And then be able to use the schematics to create as many of them as she wants. Or better yet, make killer robots except use the tech inside of the suit. Create an entire army of them so she never has to be in any sort of danger at all. Control them remotely. UA has been shown to have advanced AI robots who have personalities. Said bots have enough restraint to never kill any of the kids in the sports festival or entrance exam. This could be used for hero work. This also gets into what a valuable resource Mei Hatsume is and how if you wanted Momo to be a god, you could just have them meet in middle school. Mei just has to design a working device, once, and then Momo can study it and forever use it. What could she come up with, if the idea was that Momo would hide somewhere, perhaps in an APC, while she uses drones and robots to fight at a distance? Energy/food costs for her also aren't a concern. She's clearly able to output more energy than she takes in, given she can create cannons and things that weigh more than her. So she could use up all of her lipids creating a dead meat cube that contains as many calories as she's capable of packing into an object, then eat it. And repeat this process as needed.

This is definitely interesting.

Momo absolutely has the potential to be the most OP in the series. Horikoshi originally wanted to give her quirk to a pro but recognized that someone experienced would nerf the entire story.

I don't necessarily think that making things for problem-solving is the issue; I think it's way more that Horikoshi just didn't have the creativity for it. Like you said the entrapment device she made during 1A vs Izuku was maybe her most effective creation. Instead of disinfectant, imagine she made poison gas and simply knocked Kendo and the other 1B students out (not sure if she can create chemical reactions, but she could theoretically cause one by using components right).

I doubt she would be comfortable doing next to nothing as a hero. I do wish we knew her motivations, but relying purely on her money while doing minimal work doesn't paint a great picture for her. I like that in canon she doesn't rely on her status or wealth for hero work, she relies on her intelligence.

Momo should be an underground hero. She could be the equivalent of Batman (no this isn't my love for Batman over Iron-Man talking), strategizing and having any gadget she needs at her disposal. I would love to see more tech incorporated into her work as a hero. I also wouldn't mind the bo staff if she was allowed to actually use it like a bo staff (seriously she barely does anything with it what's the point of giving it to her. Nah give my girl a sword and let her cut people)

[yanderepuck]

K but like a cooking event. Like a cooking show. There are two teams. We got:

Rei Garu Dante

Kuya Quincy Olivine

Yakumo is like the one helping them, he's in charge of it all. Edmond is helping with taste testing and he's terrified. Blade is also there for taste testing which isn't helpful. Eiden is also terrified. He has no hopes that they can make something good.

Let's look at the first team.

Rei? He's a great cook but you don't want to eat what he makes. Man finds a dead animal in the woods and drags it back home to eat. You think he can hunt? Look at him. He only knows how to cook with weird possibly poisonous shit.

Dante understands the concept of cooking, I feel like he didn't cook for himself but he's watched others cook so how hard can it be?

Garu.. Well he's eating all the ingredients. Rei can't tell him no.

Garu: can I eat that?

Rei: yeah sure *gives him some*

Garu: can I eat that?

Rei: here you go *gives him it*

And that's how they ended up with no ingredients. Dante came back after going to grab something and sees almost everything is gone.

Dante: WHERE DID THE FOOD GO

Rei: doesn't matter. I don't know how to cook with that stuff anyway *pulls it plants that very much look dead and/or poisonous*

Dante: we are NOT using those

Rei: as long as you cook them hot enough they won't kill you

Man has an iron stomach and Garu is full of food. Dante is going around the kitchen trying to find anyone else they could possibly use.

Now our second team.

Olivine is just so happy to be there and he's excited to start cooking. He's good at cooking, loves to do it.

Quincy does not want to participate. He rather taste test. He's also accepted the fact that he's going to be chopping everything up. But he's also there to keep an eye on Kuya. Why?

Kuya is trying to sabotage everything. Doesn't want to be there. His weak ass taste buds probably can't even handle what they are making.

The thing is ... Olivine is way too positive. Everything Kuya tries to sabotage Olivine is perfectly able to incorporate it into the recipe. It's driving Kuya insane. It would be best if he sat there and did nothing, but he's incapable of doing that. He has to meddle.

He tried to set some vegetables on fire and it ended up cooking them perfectly and Olivine is praising him. He turns the oven up higher but it turns out the oven doesn't work well so turning it up higher actually sets it to the correct temperature and Olivine is like "You're so smart! How did you realize that?"

Quincy is just standing there telling Kuya to just stand to the side and to stop touching everything.

Garu comes over and asks for some of their food

Kuya: what happened to your food?

Garu: I ate it!

Kuya: .. yeah here you go

Kuya also cannot tell him no.

Rei is doing what he wants while Dante is trying to swap out rotting food for whatever he can find really. But whatever he makes it turns out decent. It looks foul but when Rei tries it he says it's really good. Dante refuses to try it and he's holding back Garu so he doesn't eat any.

Taste testing is scary

Olivine is so proud of everyone for helping and their dish came out wonderful and he's so proud of Kuya for helping as much as he did.

[strawbby-shortcake]

Dating The Narrator! ᵔᴗᵔ

Narrator is a very, very uptight and nervous man. He doesn't know how to interact with you.

Because of this, he stalks you until you catch him and ask him what the hell he's doing.

He comes clean!!! And shyly, but very poorly, admits that he's interested in you and he'd like to take you out sometime.

You pity the guy, so you said okay.

He took you to a hole-in-the-wall Chinese takeout place where you both got food poisoning and threw up at his apartment.

Narrator felt super bad that your first date with him went terrible, so he visited you and gave you flowers as an apology. Also, he made sure to wear a clean shirt before he saw you; he even ironed it.

You forgave him and you two went on a second date to Ikea!! He would ramble about all the latest furniture and his yin-yang table. You thought it was cute.

After a few months of dating, Narrator opened up to you about his insomnia issues.

He asks you to hold him while he attempts to sleep, or play with his hair.

LOVES physical touch, but he won't admit it. He's been deprived of it for so long that he tenses and relaxes at the slightest touch from you.

If you're rubbing his back but stop after a while, he'll whine quietly, hoping you notice.

Narrator gets you involved with the support groups and always picks you to be his partner to cry on.

He tries his best to have good hygiene around you like washing his hair every few days, wearing deodorant, and brushing his teeth.

He's a really picky eater, but he might try the food if you made it for him.

TYLER DURDEN/FIGHT CLUB ARC

Narrator isn't completely honest with you about Fight Club or Tyler Durden. You knew that something was going on, but you didn't want to ask at first.

He always appeared more tired, the eyebags under his eyes getting worse week after week.

When his apartment was blown up, he found the house on Paper Street and you moved in with him there.

He had bruises and cuts, which wasn't normal for you to see.

You also noticed that he started smoking; again, unusual. And it concerned you even more when he started to have cigarette burns all over his arms.

After confronting him a few times, he finally gave in and told you the truth.

You promised to not tell anyone about Tyler or Fight Club and he thanked you.

You tended to his wounds regularly so that they wouldn't get infected.

When he had to go to the hospital, he told you that Tyler told him to tell the doctors that he fell down the stairs. You weren't sure where Tyler was, but you trusted his judgement.

His attention was more focused on Fight Club, and it's not that you minded, but he turned into a completely different man than who you first met.

Sometimes he'd have angry outbursts and apologize profusely afterward. He would never lay a finger on you though.

PROJECT MAYHEM ARC (where tyler and narrator are the same)

Narrator was ALWAYS in the basement of the Paper Street house. He didn't let you down there often, but you noticed that he was always working with chemicals.

Strange men would come by the house and stand outside for a few days before they were let in. You had no idea what for.

Narrator told you about Tyler's Project Mayhem and you just nodded, not getting in the way of it.

However, you were worried about his mental and physical health. You wanted him to take a break. He refused.

When Bob was killed, Narrator was devastated for days. You consoled him, helped him eat, and made sure he was okay.

He was distant for a while until he came to you in a panicked frenzy and told you what the Space Monkeys were planning to do, how he was actually Tyler Durden, how he started Fight Club and Project Mayhem, and the bombs that would blow up several buildings in the city.

He kept you far away from the city, but you were worried about him.

When Narrator shot himself in the cheek, the Space Monkeys had brought you to his side and you held him close.

He took your hand in his and he promised that you'd be okay.

CUTE BONUS!!

He never has clean clothes to wear, so he asks if he can borrow some of your shirts. He's pretty skinny so depending on the shirt, it can look big on him which is absolutely adorable.

He gets very protective and jealous easily. You know Angel Face? Yeah if that guy ever tries flirting with you, he's done for.

You collect his name tags from the support groups in a little binder.

Narrator is super sensitive to touch. Even if you tickle him, he'll squeak and turn red.

He's a bit shy to ask for what he wants, most of the time.

He has a bit of a skin picking problem, so you hold his hands to prevent him from hurting himself.

You kiss his burn marks often and all of his scars as well.

He gave you a lye kiss! So now you two have matching right hands teehee.

He likes to go to Ikea with you and just spend the day there, pretending to have a normal life.

He sleeps like a baby when you're next to him.

[imlivinginyourtrashcan]

Hi hello im a dirty American heres some friendsgiving headcannons for the sp character

Cartman:

That man aint bringing shit

Only there for the food

The type of mf to steal ingrediants while youre cooking something

Dives RIGHT for the pumpkin pie

Nobody is happy

He denies it but its do obvious hes stealing shit 🤬

Does not wait for a toast

Bro just dives in

Getting seconds, thirds, fourths

When hes done theres no left overs

If he were to bring something id be pie

His moms recipe

BUT THIS LITTLE FUCK EATS IT IN THE CAR

Kyle:

Sometimes hosts the friendsgiving at his house

Brings the sparkling grape juice/apple juice

And also the Kosher things

Only has one helping, tries to get leftovers for the family or for kenny

Helps his mom cook when hes hosting

Setting the table always

Tries to toast but ends up yelling at Cartman for eating before hes done

Helps Ike pack for those little kindergarten thanksgivings?

Yknow when you dressed as a pilgrim and ate food?

Was I the only one who did that??

Stan:

He panicks and brings what he can find

"Hey dude! What you bring?"

"Uhhh... leftover mash potatos?"

Hes TRYING

Downing the sparkling juices like no tomorrow

The eggnog too

Cartman encourages it

"CHUG CHUG CHUG"

Watching the football game

RESTRAINS himself when it comes to food

Like, he wants it but knows Kyles gonna be pissed

Plays catch with everyone else

Or pingpong

Doesnt give a fuck about the Macys parade

Kenny:

Brings canned stuff he got from the food drive

Like cranberry sauce

Sneaking leftovers for his family

Plays catch with the boys

Died from a football lodged in his eye

Oh and from the

"Macys parade"

Incident

You dont want to know

Butters:

Brings the sweet potatos

Suggest christmas music/movies be played

Cartman called him gay immediately

So that got shut down

Brings the extra pies and everything since Cartman eats his

Lover of cranberry sauce and other things most people hate on thanksgiving

"Oh that was good! Could I have more please?"

"Butters what the fuck who likes CRANBERRY SAUCE???"

"I do!"

Doer of the toast

Often gets hit in the face when they play catch and cries

Can't stay for long cuz his parents are strict but hes there on video call rest of the time

Craig:

The type of mf when you ask what he brought he says

"My presence"

MF-

No!!!

You need to bring FOOD

They have to kick him out

He comes back with bread rolls or crackers, cheese and olives

So hes aloud back in

Doesnt care abt the parades or catch or anything

Just kinda there for Tweek

If someone asks him to do sonething he'll do it though

Hes limited by meals thanks to his braces

He doesnt care

Thats future craigs problem

Flips someone off if they beat him in a sport

Or flips off the tv when someone does something stupid in football

Has restraint when it comes to food

Bro will just wait

Wait

Wait

Wait

And then devour his plate in seconds

Tweek:

Brings homemade cider or pumpkin spice

Panicked the whole time

Hiding upstairs half the time

At least until food

He looks like a sopping wet cat

Doesnt really eat that much

Convinced the food is poison

Dont try to reassure him either he doesnt trust you

Has to check a million times though

"Is this poison???"

"No???"

"GAHH!! I dont believe you!!"

Leaves after feasting

He can only handle so much

Arrives super late too which is ironic

Jimmy:

Brings the food over and makes a puns

Like puts devil horns on eggs

"Jimmy what is that?"

"D-d-d-deviled Eggs"

Bro is telling thanksgiving jokes every second

Does the toast some years

Its like a stand up comedy routine tho

He lets you eat during that

Sneaking food

Mischievous little bastard

Puts on family fued when he realizes the boys are too pissed at football

Also has brace limits

But does he follow them ever? Nope

Drinks sparkling juice from a wine glass

Able to keep the party going for a WHILE he has ENERGY

Card playing KING

Winning at Crazy 8s left and RRRRIGHTTTTTT

Clyde:

Brought mac and cheese

Either that or bread

Food sneaker

Thinks hes good at sports

Hes not

He gets hit in the face so often

And cries

Tried Tweeks coffee

Started coughing and gagging immediately

Hes a picky eater im calling it now

Like will not eat if he doesnt think he'll like it

Me too Clyde i get it

Likes the Macys parade

Fucking weirdass

Arrives a bit before Tweek but is still late

The mf to get seconds

Wont eat before the event either

Saving his stomach for yum yums

Tolkien:

Also hosts

Helps his parents with food

Makes the dinner table look like a whole buffet

When hes not hosting he brings stuffing or some expensive good food

Or like

Homemade dip?

Casserole?

Idk

Seems like itd change every year

Great at sports

Helps clean up too

Toasts sometimes

Very generic toast

Doesnt seem like someone who has much to say

[misty-doodles]

AIB Executive Board found family HC's 2

He ho here are the last 4 of my exec fam. I decided not to do Arisu, but he is in my heart. as a reminder, this is a dysfunctional family unit, so there is some angst ahead.

This time on the board; Hatter, Ann, Niragi, and Lass boss.

-hatter is the fun dad. Hides the best alcohol in his room,

-also didn't intend to adopt a haggle of emotionally stunted 20 somethings', but here we go

-oh, is absolutely still gay for Aguni, but respects their friendship enough not to push it. Would 100% play matchmaker with the other execs and be fantastic at it (read this for whatever ship you desire)

-special spot for Arisu, as a fellow heart player. It is in the 'I can make him worse' kind of way, though, so this causes some grief with Aguni

-the person you go to for hair care tips, and nothing else. Can't cook for shit and would probably give you food poisoning. 

-Makes sex jokes, and every time someone covers Arisu's ears

-his slow descent into madness makes everyone sad, bc they know he's a good guy at heart. Everyone can see how the beach is slowly poisoning the humanity of those who run it, but they wouldn't have met without it. It's a sad reality the executive board face.

-Does like Niragi (again not in a good way) but they have an animosity between them. They both care for Aguni, and neither can express that properly. 

-Ann is the only one with her own brain cell, and she waves that above everyone's head.

-The older sister of the group and laughs wherever people find out she's like almost 30. Gives 'when I was your age' ironically but in a deadpan tone. Vibes with Chishiya the most bc he can be quiet.

-Wears shades all the time because she's shit at maintaining eye contact. 

-She and Mira are girl-buddies, and will sit and whisper during meetings whenever the disaster duo start arguing. 

-She likes to paint her nails different colors every day of the week, and has successfully gotten hatter, Mira, Lass Boss, and Kuzuryu to wear it as well.

-she wears heals to spite Chishiya, who is 5'5 in (1.65 m) elevated sneakers. They have peak sibling rivalry, thank you.

-the exec board likes to play 'is this woman Lesbian, Straight, or Aromantic?' bc with Ann it is honestly a toss up. (again, read this as you desire)

-Hates Niragi with her whole body, since she's quite close with Usagi. They don't get a long at all.

-Niragi is the most detached from the family unit. They all (reasonably) give him grief for the bad things he does around the beach, and he's too proud to apologize or, ya know, stop so here we are

-Being given a gun was the worst possible choice, and Hatter and Aguni both know it made him a worse person. He was a normal asshole with anger issue before, and since joining the militants he's become…. Well…

-He is a game engineer nerd at heart, tho, and will occasionally go off on a 20-minute tangent on something game related. The exec's find this side of him very cute.

-Although he doesn't care for other's lives, he's usually the one who can find loopholes in games that would allow for the least amount of deaths. He doesn't say this, ofc, but he does know it.

-Best friends with Lass Boss, and is the only one who gets first name privileges. They sometimes vibe in comfortable silence when no one else is around. Lass boss knows the most personal facts about him, and his silent acceptance is why Niragi likes him. They're platonic soulmates, no romance, thank you.

-Actually really likes Arisu and wants him around, but doesn't know how to do that in a healthy way besides making him as fucked up  (i.e removing Usagi from the picture). On a good day, they can have a semi-civil convo about games and be nerds together. 

-Has the most respect for Aguni and views him as a sort of father, but won't acknowledge that for shit. He knows hatter is what makes Aguni sad, unintentionally or not, and that's why he hates the man so much. Aside from the fact he's a bad leader.

-Lass boss is certainly neurodivergent, you can decide in what way

-A dyslexia journalist, (he just like me fr)

-Doesn't talk much, but agreed to be a chill militant with a stabby stabby obsession. Aside from that, probably the least problematic militant. Still not great, but really they're all different flavors of 'please seek help'

-Would have an in depth discussion on certain books with Kuzuyu, and they'd be very analytical. 

-Respects Kuina for her fighting skills and the fact she can do it in a bikini

-Gender? Fuck if Lass boss knows or cares. He/They/it pronouns, but you'd only know from context clues. Literally never came out, people just figured it out. 

-Would rather die than obey the swimsuit rule, and hatter has come to accept this.

-Is one of the few exec members who can cook, and since Niragi can bake, they're a functioning unit in the kitchen.

-(ha i did this all without using third-person singular pronouns without even trying)

[spacecowboy6780]

HII !!! LOVED YOUR ART ♡

do your csm ocs have lore? i'd love to read it ! (not me trying to make fanart no how would you think that nooooo of course nooooott)

HAADJKFMKLGD THANK YOUUU SO MUCH 😭😭 i dont know if i really have any good lore yet... im pretty bad at making that typa stuff i kinda just draw things lol

Orion!!

(i draw him a little differently each time dw abt it)

his pants are like- loose at the bottom so not tight fit :)) and he has like black combat boots i guess he's a whole sucker for black and white clothing hehe..

has a tongue piercing and a piercing on his right ear

he has a contract with the fox devil

likes the color white

does mma, anything to do with shooting things, and fishing

barem's right hand man (just a person to do his dirty work lol)

he's wasian, white mom (died during his birth), japanese dad (hates him for his mom's death and makes him try twice as hard because of it)

from a rich family who owns a [blank] company (i haven't decided what yet, i feel like a gun company would work but that's kinda ironic cuz yk)

he was a good child! always trying to meet his father's standards so he could do well, he wanted to be the best because he wanted his father's "love" (it wasn't really love. his father was emotionally manipulative and abusive and only gave him "love" whenever he did something in his favor or good. when he didn't he would tell him how much of a disgrace he is. only to treat him nicely again when he did something good.)

a social bird, made friend easily all throughout his school years, a popular and friendly person. he started to realize he could do whatever during his highschool years, because of his status as the sole heir to his father's company so he started to become more rebellious, going out more, skipping classes, getting drunk, but he always brought back straight A's. he became a rowdy asshole genius typa guy

closeted homo up to college years, he started really embracing his gay then. during highschool and middle school he would date women but he didn't really feel anything for them and would usually break up with them after a few months. he would make up the sweetest and most heartbreaking reasons why and they would forgive him, when in reality he really didn't care about them

his dad was suffering from heart issues as he got older, and as orion got older he grew to hate his dad, he slowly poisoned him with arsenic which led to him having a heart attack and dying!! one day he accidentally put too much arsenic into his food but he was like yknow what it's okay and then made sure to keep the maids away from his slowly decaying father, put him to bed early and tada he had a heart attack

he got away with it cause a) he’s the sole heir to the company and b) if he went to court? 💰💥💰💥💰💥

he met barem at the chainsaw church!! he was curious about it, flyers and all over town so he went to check it out. he got a tour from one of the church members before bumping into him. it was kind of a physical attraction at first, he just wanted to get into his pants. so he got a tour from barem, saying he didn't remember any of it (playing dumb blond stereotype lol). but after talking to him he was like hey wait this guy is also kind of cool and an eye opener (idk what he would've said i'll figure something out) and then he started to reeeeally take a liking to barem. he started to appear more around the chainsaw church, mostly around barem and talk to him a lot but he wouldn't join it. he didn't want to marry a woman. barem asked why he would come to the csm church if he didn't want to join it. orion was blunt and was like to see you ofc. barem was like ???.

sooner or later orion became his right hand man (i'll explain more on how later), or more of a person to just do a lot of his dirty work because he was so willing to do it. he's also willing to pay for all of barem's expenses. lol sugar daddy

ok i think im done for now but ill make like- a better doc for him i think he's like the first kind of fleshed out oc i've made in a while haha!

[yantisocial]

if you do subsystems could you make a 3-5 headmate large marvel cinematic universe subsys? if not, just one headmate!

This is gonna be so chaotic because I mayyyy or may not have mostly just included my favorite mcu characters UwU (and its mostly just basic info, due to the amount i'm writing. so...I lied. my self control is in shambles and i got really into this.)

{ I have included Paraphilias here since you didn���t request there to not be, but you can obv disregard anything in this that you don’t want 😊}

anyways, I hope you find these packs helpful!

BODY/GENERAL INFO

Birth Name: Myles Mangjeol

Age: 27

Collective Pronouns: he/they + ai/ais/aiself

Collective Name: Matchbox (Match), Cryo

(Cis)IDs: half-East Asian (South Korea), half-Caucasian (Germany), ocd, did, npd, avpd

TransIDs: genderflux, transMasc, transKind, permaWindblownHair, 

Discomforts/Triggers: food stands/trucks

Appearance:

ALTER 1:

(I went a little off the rails for this one, sorry lol. They came to me in a vision and HAD to be included here.)

Name(s): Match, Lighter, Pyro, Burne

Nickname(s): Pie, Bur

General Description: Pyro is a civilian who lives in NYC near Stark Tower, and has looked up to Tony Stark for years. They are a pyromaniac but are not nonconsensually violent (aka they don’t start fights, they finish them, lol). They’re trained in self defense and enjoy taekwondo, which he has earned their blue belt in. burn also knows how to street fight, but no longer does so unless necessary. however, when they were 16-18 they were quite a thug and did do some petty crimes, such as theft. A lot of times they miss that life. They tend to scrape by in life, are a survivalist at its core, and generally live paycheck to paycheck. Nonetheless they have a brilliant mind and love to tinker with and make all sorts of gadgets (mostly ones that include fire in some way lol).

Age: 25

Pronouns: he/it/burn/they/she ; prefers masculine or neutral terms

Interests: heroes, cooking, eating, burning things, street fighting, taekwondo, rapping

Discomforts/Triggers: hates being called anything like “kid” or kiddo, or being referred to as a girl/woman, even when using she/her pronouns ; Cynophobic (fear of dogs), Haphephobic (fear of being touched), Scoptophobic (fear of being stared at), Agoraphobic (fear of crowds and/or open/public spaces)

(Cis)IDs: Pyromaniac, Abrosexual, Asexual-spec, Partially Blind, Puerterican-American, Mutant (moderate strength enhancement)

TransIDs: transArsonist, permaBurned, permaScarredHands, permaScarredFace, transPyromancer, transReciprosexual, permaBloodyNose, transCriminal, transVillain, permaRedIrises

Role (if any): Host ; Has been around since the body was 12

Emoji and/or Proxy Tag: 🫥❤️‍🔥 or ~ℼ or 🥧🔥

Source Talk (if applicable): yes

Paras: Sadomasochism (hurting others & being hurt), Agonophilia (consensual noncon), Odaxelagnia (biting/being bitten), Pyrophilia (fire)

Appearance: 

Extra: relates HEAVILY to the songs “Redemption” by Poor Man’s Poison, “Saint Bernard” by Lincoln, “Coffee” by Jack Stauber, and “BURN IN HELL” by Red Leather. They really can't see w/o their glasses/contacts but often takes them off and leave them at home for sensory reasons

ALTER 2:

Name(s): Anthony Stark

Nickname(s): Tony

General Description: Tony does not consider himself to be Iron Man in any way, just a tech genius. He has no interest in heroism, but loves creating new technology. He does really like Iron Man though.

Age: 32

Pronouns: he/it/tech

Interests: tech, computers, AI, fidget toys (tech likes the keyboard ones best), inventing

Discomforts/Triggers: dislikes intimacy and is a self-proclaimed “playboy” due to this

(Cis)IDs: cishet man, aromantic-spec, white, partially deaf in one ear

TransIDs: transSocial, transBisexual, transRich

Role (if any): emotional protector

Emoji and/or Proxy Tag: 🤖🛠️ or --T.Stark

Source Talk (if applicable): yes

Paras: Hybristophilia (Criminals), Mazophilia (breasts)

Appearance: 

Extra: enjoys music by Red Leather, Hollywood Undead, Paramore and Saint Motel

ALTER 3:

Name(s): Winter Soldier, J.B.

Nickname(s): Jim, Wint, Soldier

General Description: J.B. is cold, closed off, and generally feels very few emotions, though not zero. He dislikes talking to others, including those in his system, but if its what needed to get the job done, he’ll do it. He split very recently due to the system being overworked and underslept. He doesn’t feel hunger, so the others have to remind him to eat. He has an insanely high pain tolerance.

Age: 26

Pronouns: he/him

Interests: drumming, fighting, indie and punk rock music (he REALLY likes the songs "Risk" by Mega Mango, “Sleepwalk” by Forrest Day, and “Feel Better” by Penelope Scott, but you’d have better luck pulling his teeth than getting him to admit he likes anything other than violence lmao), dark chocolate, deadly sweet coffee

Discomforts/Triggers: people in general ; he’s incredibly antisocial

(Cis)IDs: white, bisexual, ASPD, Autistic

Role (if any): Cassmate

Emoji and/or Proxy Tag: [JB] or --WS

Source Talk (if applicable): no.

Paras: Haematophilia (blood)

Appearance:

Extra: god he’s so emo. Head in hands my dude. Get this man a coffee (specifically the starbucks peppermint mocha or espresso con panna) and a band tee with the sleeves cut off STAT. he also really likes fall weather and watching the leaves fall from the trees to relax. He hates mint but loves peppermint. He laughs at pain (both his own and others’) because he doesn’t realize it…actually hurts…

ALTER 4:

Name(s): Loki Laufeyson

General Description: agent of chaos, bastard king. Loves to lie and is scary smart. He’s kinda chill though, ngl. WILL cover up a murder for you if you ask. Not that you would ask. probably.

Age: 1,082

Pronouns: any, enjoys when they’re switched up

Interests: stirring the pot (causing drama), cheesy drama shows like Love Island and The Bachelor/-ette

Discomforts/Triggers: ornithophobic (fear of birds), haphephobia (fear of/disgust from touch) and honestly, he just really doesn’t like the hulk

(Cis)IDs: bisexual, genderfuck, npd, bpd, aspd

TransIDs: nullspecies, nullrace, nullethnicity, nullgender

Role (if any): no one knows, he just exists to be a bastard i think

Emoji and/or Proxy Tag: 💎👑 or 😏💸 or -L.

Source Talk (if applicable): not unless you’re pretty close

Paras: there’s gotta be some sort of asguardian word for “mortal-liker,” right…?

Appearance:

Extra: POINTS AT HER. 🫵 WILL WOOD AND MINDLESS SELF INDULGENCE ENJOYER...that's all thank you.

[originemesis]

@bored2deathiswear xxx

Man is simple really- a fact the one who'd poisoned humanity is likely all too aware of given his accomodations so far. At every mortal core, the hard wiring of creature comforts serves a typical infrastructure to man, a blueprint for any that desired to contain it, and had since the very start of creation. Shut off from the world in a gilded cage where any place within was a suitable shelter to sleep unhindered, and where any concept of hunger couldn't exist with the abundance of food anywhere the eye fell, and where getting one's fervish flights of 'frustrations' out was as unassuming as a scent.

That was what the clown thought he'd created here- wasn't it? Like the structure that contained his terrible secret wasn't just some house in hell. It definitely was no Eden, that was for sure- no matter how closely its 'merciful' creator tried to replicate it. And for what? To prove something? That somehow he hadn't been wrong some seven thousand years ago? Or more believably, had always thought himself the owner of the beings that dwelled within the garden's simulation? Adam had been content there once, never considering the gaps in the gate like he did now when formulating the amount of voltage he'd have to endure to get just one step beyond the forcefield that trapped him in the guest room with everything he could ever want and yet... didn't. How fucking ironic. And Lucifer had no one to blame for it but himself. Because of his meddling, humans would always want what they didn't have, and what he didn't have in a room closed off from even heaven's all seeing capability of tracking their angels was- a concept now mounted above the devil's mantle, as if he weren't the one to propose freedom from one's confinement in the first place.

Well, he certainly wasn't the one who proposed an eye for an eye mentality, old or testament through they were...or in this case- a pie for a pie. The sound of its sugar crystal crust first cracking around Lucifer's face and cutting off the coax of his gaze in the process is almost as cathartic as his choking. And as he wriggles and writhes to find even a sliver of air in the pie from the struggle, Adam makes sure he doesn't get to enjoy it by wrenching the grip on his neck to keep anything going in from going down as if he hoped the other would finally just vomit out of desperation so he could grind that into his face next until- until...he felt better? Could he even do that anymore?

Ignoring the pinpricks of claws that manage to scrape at his gloved forearms in a panicked flail, he doubles down on his smothering method by forcing his weight down as if he can't decide if choking the other out or crushing him would feel best and so settles for something in between. "What- not so fun when I give it back to you, huh~?" Asked like the hellish shit had any means to respond other than writhing. "All you ever fucking do is take, so go on... TAKE it- I fucking dare you, you miserable waste of a cunt-"

Crunch. The wall cracks in spider veins around his back once he's suddenly launched from the devil below him, and gravity has little time to claim him in a downwards slide at the edge of the bed before the careless crack of seraphim wings becomes all too apparent. Or were they cherebim? Nobody in heaven willing to discuss the matter could decide, only agree that their owner clearly lacked the heart of both. The breath knocked free of him, Adam peeks through one gilded eye with his teeth grinding all the while, only to spot a fist flying in much too quick to block...though a flinch seems to divert it into the wall. When several flings of ashen knuckles bash the plaster on either side of his head enough times to create a cloud of debris dust, the man forces a forearm up as a makeshift barricade between his face and the dripping fury of Lucifer's ire once the arrival of infernal wings had helped pin the first man in place. Of course he fucking would bring those out - salt in his closed wounds with no way to wash them out lest he find a way to slice them back open.

And it's when the other starts to laugh as if the man had told a joke rather than attempt to wring his neck that Adam affixes the mounting mirth with a soured scowl. "Oh, sure- pull out all the wings to stop me. Fucking hilarious, bruh. You're a joke that writes itself." Seething as if his frazzled remarks do anything more than self soothe, he only falls quiet with the uncomfortable heat burning through his mask at the proximity that Lucifer issues when 'kindly' informing him of- yet another bad joke. About why the Exorcist commander's ceaseless struggle against settling in to his prisoner role is actually just proof that whether he submits to the other's demands or not, the devil always wins- one way or another, and the burning lump in his throat is enough of a reminder even before the fucker points it out like a legacy to be long lauded over the first man's head. It's a sobering enough strike without having even come to retaliatory blows that prompts him to screw the garrish yellows of his eyes shut and petulantly tip his face away from the burning Lucifer's caused at too close a range.

He hardly registers the new set of shackles as they bind his arms backwards, leaving him half curled up on the floor with nothing to look forward to except apparently hellfire fastened at his wrist if he wiggled the wrong way. Not that he had much wiggle left in him after the height of his earlier explosion had joined him on the floor, and the familiar exhaustion of a failed tantrum weighed down on him like the aftermath of a storm leaving soaked robes heavy and dragging. "An anti-chains advocate...unless they suit your agenda, course! How fucking typical-" He gripes, already prepared for the crick in his neck from however sleeping in this position was going to work out if he couldn't wobble himself up and over to bed. Though with all that shitty apple pie smeared on the sheets, the floor was actually looking preferable.

That prompting prod to his side where his rib cage lacked a bar earns a subtle jerk to accompany the squeaky toy of a sound it emits, but he sucks his teeth soon after in a poor attempt to disguise the discomfort at the reminder that anyone he's since used to fill the void left behind by Eve was not here. The connection between him and his flock would rot away eventually - and he can't help but think that was exactly what the fucker was counting on when he'd rendered him flightless. Eyes narrowing to follow Lucifer's feet towards the door, he's left grimacing at the parting shot of a...not so much a suggestion than a sentencing. And though he's inclined to disagree with a middle finger he couldn't flip the other with his arms bound to his back, his captor's prior premonitions start to fester at the edges of subconsciousness as the dark of the room eventually bleeds into dawn.

----

Breakfast appears on the table as normal- because of course it did. Since it's most likely a further jab from Lucifer knowing how he'd left the man bound and face planted to the floor, he ignores the drifting smell of pancakes in favor of facing the tedious task of finding his feet. Shit probably had apples on it anyway. After last night he doubts he's going to see anything edible without the fruit mixed in to it somewhere. That's how the bastard had operated so far...find a sticking point and then ram it until the man was inevitably forced to relent. It was annoying as it was cyclical.

With no immediate way to yank himself up, he resorts to the next best thing and inchworms across the room, albeit pausing often to collect his wits through a few rounds of breathless slurs. Once he'd made it to his intended target - being the window, he inches up the wall to hook his chin onto the ledge which he uses to help yank himself the rest of the way up after some struggle and numerous teeth gritting grunts.

He'd already spent enough time roosting in the window nook to know the view from inside looking out well enough. There's a small shrub like tree not unlike a camelia that takes its pruning neglect out on his window with each shift in the wind's direction. It's the only inhabitant of the carved out section of garden below that likely no one would stumble through given how the veil of the forcefield containing him in the room also extends to just below the window frame on its outside. And aside from misjudging how long it took broken wings to mend, his captor hadn't overlooked much in way of ways out when setting up the enclosure. Given his hulking size in comparison to the sliver of afforded garden, the trip to take a look down below didn't seem worth it considering there would be no room for him to even turn fully around on the ground level.

So when his half lidded gaze made its usual lazy sweep of the outside, it isn't with any motive other than fading out for the next few hours. Only instead, his gaze catches on something white and discarded lying beneath the boughs of the camelia. Head tipping to each side, he tries his best to identify the new object he'd yet to spot til now. Was that a...glove? One that resembled those he'd seen the clown pulling off when entering the room on some occasions. Brows furrow and his gaze narrows as he feels a slight twinge of a pull in his side towards the discarded garment. Perhaps he wanted a piece of the other to pull apart for his own amusement, or perhaps the unsettling urge to collect it off the ground stemmed from wanting to see if the twitch in his side would settle down once he had it. Either way, the window bursts outward in a spray of glass once he bashes the blunt side of his horns against it.

The heat that follows fastened around his wrists is - as Lucifer mentioned, more intense than a hot iron rammed up the ass, and it leaves him sucking his teeth hard around a half stifled yelp of "son of a whore!!" as he waits for the stinging to subside to clean the rest of the glass out of the frame with a sweep of his horns.

It's whenever Lucifer returns that the extent of Adam's attempt at venturing down shows. The man had managed to push himself halfway out of the window feet first only to become lodged in place once his stomach passed a point where even sucking in didn't allow it to squeeze through. Hanging rather limply with his head bowed as if he opted for a nap mid extraction, he lifts his gaze once he hears the telltale click of boots making a beeline for him.

"...don't you say shit." He warns, a firm wriggle in place- no more intimidating than a budgie cupped in a palm. "Seriously."

[noodyl-blasstal]

Dr Google

Friends believe I've been thinking about vampires again.

---

Symptoms:  Pale Cold Sore teeth Nausea No Irregular pulse  Bloodlust Thirsty Sunburn

He wasn’t supposed to Google medical stuff anymore, Sloane and his Mums had told him off for it so many times he’d lost count, but Kravitz hated to make a fuss and surely it was easier to just check quickly. “Some guy mugged me apart from he didn’t take my wallet and he accidentally bit me a little bit… lottle bit” seemed like the kind of thing that would waste Dr Highchurch’s time. All he’d be able to do was whack some antiseptic on there and make some horrifying comments about the way he extracted the juices to make whatever poultice he decided was best. Kravitz had obviously disinfected the bite mark once he got home. Sure, he’d been passed out in the alley for a bit, but once he’d woken up he felt fine, he’d made it home in no time! It didn’t really seem ringing the police because nothing was taken and the bite wasn’t even really that bad, only a few teeth seemed to have pierced the skin.

The worst bit was the whole food situation. Kravitz was hungry, was the thing, ravenous, but when he’d tried to eat the leftovers in the fridge he’d puked them straight back up again. Obviously food poisoning was the logical choice, so he’d thrown them away and tried something basic instead. The toast tasted disgusting. He thought the butter might have turned, had a go at the biscuits in the cupboard instead. Also a nope. Everything tasted terrible, nothing stayed down. He knew it was important to stay hydrated when you had a stomach bug, of course, so he drank plenty of water. It wouldn’t stay put either. He tried medicine for settling his stomach, rebalancing his humours (well, salts and electrolytes according to the package), and painkillers. Nothing helped. So now it was five days since he’d eaten anything and he really really really wanted to, but he couldn’t. He didn’t really know what Dr Highchurch could suggest for that - he usually seemed to struggle a bit unless you could give him direction. Hence, the Googling. 

Kravitz was being sensible, of course, he knew the good symptom checkers. He wasn’t irresponsible, just needed some reliable health information which didn’t come with a side of arbour ardour. That didn’t seem unreasonable to ask. He input his symptoms and waited for the computer to ease his mind.

Iron deficiency anaemia

B12 deficiency anaemia 

Coma

One of those things was not like the others but unless this was some kind of incredibly vivid hallucination, Kravitz was good on the coma front. Anaemia though? He’d had low iron before and knew it could fuck you up. No point in bothering Dr Highchurch by asking for a blood test, he may as well just skip straight to the supplements. 

Kravitz was most of the way to the door when the dizziness and fatigue he’d seen on the symptom list kicked in. Sure, he’d been feeling a bit run down, but he was fit! He was healthy! He did his 10,000 steps and change every single day, he swam, he hiked! He should be able to walk a block over to the CVS even if he was a bit under the weather.

By the time he had willed himself onto the couch he was ready to admit defeat. Maybe he could just take a nap and then go? Or, even better, he could Door Dash it then take a nap until it was medicine time. Kravitz tapped around on his phone trying to figure the app out. It took a lot longer than it should have because everything seemed to be fuzzing round the edges - maybe he needed to book an eye test too, he was probably due one. Finally he was fairly convinced he’d put all the right details in and allowed his slow blinking eyes to stay shut.

“Honey, I’m home!” Yelled a strange voice as a man burst through the door of his apartment. Sure, Kravitz had said the door was open and to drop the bag inside in his notes, but this seemed excessive. Kravitz’s brain was full of sand and all he wanted to do was eat something, anything. The delivery man was handsome, handsome enough that Kravitz decided he’d rate him highly regardless of the breaking and entering. He smelled good too, really, really good.

Kravitz tried to struggle up into a sitting position, failed miserably, and hoped he didn’t look too pathetic. “Thank you.” It was at this point he realised he hadn’t spoken out loud since the mugging. Maybe the bite knocked his vocal chords around a bit because he sounded so croaky and raw.

“You okay there, Kemosabe?” The delivery guy focused in on Kravitz and his beautiful brow crinkled. “You look like shit.”

“Low iron.” Croaked Kravitz. Taako’s cologne was amazing, Kravitz could smell him from across the room but it wasn’t cloying and overpowering. There was a hint of sweetness to it, something Kravitz couldn’t place. 

“Uh huh. That is a thing that could be happening, sure.” 

“Or it could be B12, and a stomach bug.” 

“Look, I can’t leave you here without checking you’re okay my guy. If I deliver this, fuck off, and then you beef it it’s Taako who’s gonna end up getting arrested for it and that’s a big ol’ no thanks from me.”

“What Taco?” 

“Me, Goofus. Now, let me see.” 

“Like the food? I’m okay, thank you. I think just taking some of the iron tablets will help. Maybe the B12 too just in case. That should mean I can keep water down.” His throat’s feeling a bit better at least, less haggard for some practice at speaking. Maybe he needs to start talking to himself out loud, or, probably more sanely, ringing his Mums and Sloane.

“No not like the food, like the me. Tee ay ay kay oh. Now, shut up and let me make sure you’re not gonna die.”

Taako was so close now, Kravitz could reach out and touch him, Kravitz really wanted to reach out and touch him… and maybe grab him, kiss him, bite his… “Ow! Fuck!” Kravitz winced in pain. His lip throbbed, how the fuck did he manage to bite himself without moving his mouth?

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, you’ve got a bad case of the vampires, my guy.”

[kitsumidori]

OC Ramblings: Salem Edition

I've been wanting to talk about Salem because I've...... never really had a chance to do so.

----------------------------------------------------------

- Salem did (at one point) have a tendency to bite people when she was younger. When there's a new face, she has to bite them at least once.

- It's gotten to a point that Vaughn turned it into an indoctrination for the newbies. Despite having sharp teeth, Salem doesn't bite hard.

- However there were a few incidents when she did straight up attack someone, those being...

Timothy: She mistook him for Handsome Jack and thus attacked in self defense. This was actually the first time she'd attacked someone.

Rhys: Maya and Krieg were out one night and Sasha was going to babysit her, but she ended up being a bit busy at the moment so Rhys said he'll look after her for a bit. When Sasha was finished she found her husband curled up in a corner with his robotic arm missing and Salem in the middle of the room chewing on said arm. He's more thankful it's childproof.

Hansuke (Katagawa jr): Dude was a bad man, he tried to make Auncle Zer0 look bad.

- Salem didn't start to speak properly until she was 5, one night she went up to Timothy (who was still traumatized after almost getting mauled to death by a baby) and asked for a drink. Timothy told her parents the next day.

- Salem has a beautiful singing voice, but she doesn't sing very often in fear of people barging in on her.

- That being said, she has a few songs on her playlist that would be considered..... inappropriate for her at age 13. (Mainly cursing)

- Salem can't cook for shit. While she'll eat whatever she makes for herself (kid has a cast iron stomach, she'll even eat that mysterious ruined food with the purple steam that you see in animes/video games), when she makes something for others, it's usually a struggle for them to eat since it'll be either raw, burnt or both.

- While Salem was surprisingly lucky she didn't have to get braces (especially with teeth like her's), she did have to wear a retainer (and I don't mean the shield).

- Surprisingly, Salem is actually immune to eridium poisoning likely due to her already mutated genetics. Along with that, she can also break off bits from an ore and eat it like candy.

- When she was younger, Salem was a lot more brawn than brain. However by adulthood, Salem became a full blown genius even helping with her mother's research by becoming a eridian arciologist herself.

- Salem had ended up getting lost in the Jakobs Manor far too many times, along with it being huge the manor itself has many secret rooms and hidden doors/pathways.

More would be added later.

[cellarfulofnose]

poison headache

The story of Maggie’s Farm comes to life in a series of diary entries from the mid-’60s. Twenty-nothing poet Bob Dylan works on the McCawell farm under the iron fist of Joseph “Pa” McCawell, his pious wife “Ma” Edith, and their harebrained son Willie. Maggie McCawell, the boss’ coarse daughter, seems to have her sights on Bob, but he only has eyes for Joan, a lovely servant girl. 

March 4, 1965

They moved me from the cabin into Danny’s old room. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t know till today it’s been sitting empty all this time. It was around Christmastime that he went and got married or ran away or something. I’d marry the first girl who passed by if I thought it’d get me out of here. It’s supposed to be sowing season, but the rain’s so bad the fields are mud. I lost both boots in the north field and walked back in my socks. My only hope is that a boot bush’ll spring up in the summer. With my luck they’ll all be two sizes too big. I guess I better start saving newspaper now.

Danny’s room is nothing fancy. There’s a desk by the window and a big wardrobe. It’s small, but it’s better than six guys in five cots and one hammock, rolling over three people every time you toss and turn. They said Danny packed up and left. The room smells like he might’ve died in it. Or something did, anyway. I haven’t had the guts to open the wardrobe.

We can’t plow without compacting the soil, so I’ve been doing inventory. Started two days ago and I haven’t even finished with the cans. There’s walls of them. Pa McCawell is always going on about the Reds and making the servant girls duck and cover. I guess if there really was an atomic blast we’d be all right, food-wise. I wear a can opener clipped to my belt now. Willie said it makes me look like I’m fixing to kill a man, and if I ever try anything funny he’ll be on me like ugly on an ape. Didn’t make me take it off though. I think it scared him pretty good. I lost my knife in a tree when I first got here, so this is the next best thing.

I hope I'm sick. My throat itches and my nose is running, and now this cough won't go away. It comes in spells, I can't breathe for a couple minutes at a time. I hope it's a good old rollicking case of influenza. Or bronchitis or pneumonia or any of your old standards. You start spitting green around here and you get the day off—if you're lucky. I couldn't have been luckier the last time I had a fever. McCawell didn't want to pay the doctor so they gave me to Joan. I talked about her last week and probably a month before that. The half-Mexican kitchen girl. She’s always singing. You hear everybody say that if she’s got breath to sing, she must not be working hard enough, but she gets her work done just as well as anybody else. When I was laid up, she got my fever down and kept me on mullein tea that knocked all the crap right out of my lungs. It was like having Clara Barton nurse you, she was so good, and her black hair parted in the middle.

Joan’s something else. She’s pretty but I don’t know how to describe it. She looks old fashioned, from another time. I got here maybe a year after she did, and I feel we used to know each other before that. Before time. Like we were twin stars, or two little twin girls in the Levant. I think she knows it. She let me pick her guitar once.

Joan got sick too the last time she was taking care of me. I must’ve given it to her. She stopped singing for days, and when she started again, her voice sounded different. I don’t suppose she ever forgave me. If Pa hands me over to her again, I don’t think she’ll be too happy to nurse me, and I don’t blame her. Well, I hope it’s just a little cold or something that’ll go away in a day or two. No sense in bothering her about it.

March 5, 1965

The rain’s stopped. Willie got into a heated debate with Charlie and a couple field hands over the sowing. We’re so behind on planting, he said they better start to plow, but Charlie said they’d never get the tractor out of the mud if they started before it dried out a little. Willie blew his top and climbed up in the tractor himself. It took him fifteen minutes to figure out how to get it moving and all four mules to haul it out of the mud. You never saw his Ma so mad. I heard her tan his hide when they got back to the house, but she didn’t mention the tractor once. She was yelling at him for swearing like a sea dog in front of Maggie and the servant girls. I’ve heard Maggie say worse on a Sunday in Lent.

Willie’s lucky McCawell weren’t home. He left before dawn to make the stock auction in town, otherwise he would have made a jacket out of that boy. Ma is gonna raise hell to Pa when he gets back. Last time Willie got in hot water, he had to advance Danny two weeks' pay to keep him from running and telling McCawell. I guess Charlie gets the payout now, and he'll distribute it as he sees fit. 

I don't care about money if I can't sleep. I was up half the night last night sneezing. I didn't even get a break from the cough. If this is a cold, it's unlike any I ever had. No aches, chills, nothing. Just this feeling like the air’s heavy with dandelion wisps and they're all trying to take root and bloom in my nose. 

There were a couple hours in the middle of the day where it wasn’t too bad. Don’t ask me how I managed to get out of bed, but once I made it through the cans and started inventorying the boxes, I wasn’t sneezing anymore. Better for Joan, I thought, we’d both get off easy. But then right after supper it started again, just as bad as it ever was. I have to pause in my writing just to catch my breath. The cough is ugly but it’s not deep, just stubborn. No point in trying to get a day off out of it. McCawell would say I sounded fine in the house and that he ought to put me to work after supper too, since it seems to cure what’s ailing me.

There’s more to say but I can’t go on writing. This sneezing is taking it out of me. Not much to be done but to sleep it off, though I don’t know how I’ll get to sleep tonight. I was sleeping standing up today, lock-legged, like a horse, from not catching any the night before. I know where Efren keeps the horse pills, if it comes to that. Last time I took those, they woke me up with cold water. Right now that sounds like a vacation. Joan hasn’t noticed how I'm doing, and Ma won’t bless me.

March 6, 1965

It was Ma who called the doctor. Whatever it is, it got bad enough that I came down with a bloody nose. When I started in to sneeze, it wasn't pretty. I was in the barn at the time, so I came in the house looking for something to clean myself up. She saw me with blood all over my face and shirt and about started crying. I must have been coughing then, you couldn't tell her it wasn't consumption. A couple of girls hung around to calm her down. I thought I'd better leave. 

The blood stopped by the time the doctor got here. He took my temperature and listened to my chest and told me I wasn't sick with anything contagious. That meant back to work, but it also meant that Joan was in the clear.  I know it was ridiculous to imagine she might still end up taking care of me. Anyway, it’s better this way.

Then again, who’s to say the doctor knows what he’s talking about? He said “hayfever” and a couple eavesdroppers and I told him it’s not even haying season, and I don’t have any problem when it is. But his advice was that it must be environmental, so I should try and fix my environment. He said to change my bedding to get rid of the built-up dust, then I should stick my head in a steam bath and see if that helps. He’d been anticipating TB, so he didn’t have anything for me to take. Pa said in that case he wasn’t paying. I left when they started arguing, to go strip the bed in Danny’s room.

It was dusty all right. Set me off again pretty good. I gave up halfway through—I didn’t want my nose to start bleeding again. I got the window partway open, and I was just sitting on the half-empty bed when Maggie came in. She heard I wasn’t feeling good and wanted to come see how I was doing. I took out my harmonica because I didn’t want to talk to her. But between the coughs and sneezes, I had to give it up. It’s not that Maggie isn’t a great girl. She’s got a head full of bouncy red curls and freckles all over her body, and she wears tied-off shirts and denim shorts to prove it. I think it’s her eyes that put me off. They’re so big and round and she lines them black. She looks like an owl. Cute, I guess, but I wouldn’t be alone with her in the same room if I could help it.

Maggie said the room smelled like a swamp. That’s one good thing about all this; I can’t smell anymore, so it doesn’t bother me. She got real friendly when I told her that, saying she knew how to clear my head. Maggie likes to fixate on how all the functions of the body are linked to orgasm. She once told me an orgasm is equivalent to eight sneezes. I don’t know how she figured that, but I’d be a lot happier and a lot looser by now if she’d been telling the truth.

She didn’t try to take my pants off. She seemed to want to do it with them on. I told her if she really wanted to help me she’d boil me a pot of water and get me a towel to trap the steam. Most of the guys wish they could lay Maggie, but they’re terrified of incurring McCawell’s wrath. Some of them she flirts with just to piss her daddy off. He threatened Efren with a 12-gauge and now no one wants to look at her. It’s not McCawell I’m scared of. Something about Maggie tells me she’s not satisfied until she sees the white of bone.

I touched her up till she came, the fastest I’ve ever seen her do it. It seemed easier than trying to talk her out of it. Maggie’s not a bad girl. She’s just stuck here like the rest of us, and sex starved. It can’t be good for a girl her age. Once she calmed down, she said Pa had agreed to pay the doctor but he was taking it out of my check. She promised she’d get him to change his mind. I kept telling her she didn’t have to, but she gave me one of her nice handkerchiefs as collateral, with the little MM stitched on the border. I sneezed fresh blood into it within minutes of her leaving. Pa and Maggie and the doctor were all arguing in the kitchen, so I couldn’t boil water for a steam bath, and the bed was still unmade. I ended up just going to the shed for the horse stuff. Taking half a tablet doesn’t knock me out, and they last longer that way besides.

March 8, 1965

A lot has happened so I’ll try to tell the short version.

Danny’s room is growing mold. It’s more mold than room. I don’t know how it didn’t collapse on me. On Sunday I was picking at the wallpaper and a section of it crumbled away. The wall was black. I thought it was ants. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I ran outside and coughed until I lost my breakfast. It was Sunday, so we couldn’t get the doctor, but he couldn’t have told me anything I didn’t know by then. It was the mold that was making me sick. The dust couldn’t have helped either.

Pa won’t get the room repaired. I wasn’t even the one to tell him about the mold. It must have been Maggie or one of the girls. Still, he wouldn’t swallow it. I found out Maggie volunteered to let me stay in her room until they fix Danny’s. Now whenever Pa looks at me he gets all red with fury and can’t speak. I don’t hold it against her. He’d only take it out of my check, anyways.

Willie jumped out of his skin when he saw me. Somehow the news had warped as it traveled, and he’d heard I was dead. I didn’t have any evidence to the contrary, so I let him be.

The real mess happened after I got a few doses of horse pills down. I went to go sleep in the loft when I ran into Joan. She was stealing some wine and said half was mine if I wouldn’t tell. I’d never say no, but horse stuff and booze are like fire and gasoline. We drank the whole jug. I got sloppy. I remember I wanted to kiss her—I don’t know if I did it. I told her I was in love with her and she started crying, saying Maggie was gonna fire her when she found out. She’s jealous that way. I told her again and again I wouldn’t let that happen. Joan kissed my head, and when I woke up it was dark. I waited until dawn, then I marched into the house and told McCawell I quit. He laughed and kept on eating. Even Maggie didn’t say anything. 

I slept in the loft last night, and I haven’t been back in Danny’s room but for a minute to grab a few things. Already, it feels like it’s getting better. I only sneezed once after I woke up this morning. Mostly no cough either. There’s a weird sort of pounding feeling behind my eyes any time that I do cough. Could be nothing, I never know. I was out in the rain a lot yesterday before I ripped up the wallpaper; maybe that’s got something to do with it.

This is my second night sleeping in the loft. It’s supposed to rain again tomorrow. No one knows when it’ll end. Danny’s room is empty again and it looks like it’ll stay that way, but I found another jug of wine squirreled away up here in the hay. Whatever’s coming, I might not end up weathering it alone.

[deathsbestgirl]

so. when i was a kid, and schools decided to try & scare kids away from cigarettes. and they talked about all the things that happen to your body, the way it causes cancer and what cancer looks like...i went home and started stealing my dad's cigarettes & lighters. i did it a lot. and one day my mom found the stash of them hidden in my room. she sat me down and asked why i had them. i told her i didn't want dad to die and she told me dad wasn't going to die. but i think i held onto that fear, it never went away.

and then it happened. he had stage four throat cancer.

before his diagnosis, he was having trouble swallowing for months. eating took him hours. he wasn't taking it seriously, insisting he was fine. my mom & i were on his case for what felt like ages.

when he finally went to the doctor, she gave him antibiotics, obviously that didn't do anything to help. the second time, my mom went with him and he went to an oncologist.

i had a trip planned with my friend, i told her my dad's had cancer & i didn't know if i could go (we were taking a very long road trip back to where she lived). she was great, but my parents insisted i go. so i did.

i called everyday, and my dad was in the hospital the entire time i was gone. when i got back home, my mom & sister told me that he needed to be intubated, at some point he flatlined but he was stable now.

the tumor in his throat was cutting of his airway when they got him to the hospital. i don't remember what he was going to the hospital for, but it was a shock.

at this time, i was still pretty sick myself. and that week i came back home was the worst i ever felt. but it was different. i can't explain to you the panic i was feeling. we were at the hospital everyday for hours. i was making us food & bringing it with us and forcing my mom & sister to eat something. everyday. i couldn't stay in the room when the doctors came in. and eventually it was more than panic and "feelings of doom" — i was so physically ill. i remember going to cvs to get medicine, and everyone in the store getting out of my way & cut the line because i looked like death. i mean a literal walking corpse. i was *grey*

it turned out to be iron or copper poisoning. as soon as i got my period, i was perfectly fine. i'll never know which because i couldn't get to the doctor in time for blood work. (i stopped taking medications & chinese herbs & supplements i was on and i never had this problem again but. this is the second time i almost died)

my mom was so mad at me for leaving the hospital room. it was one of the first days i was back & we were at the hospital. i think they might have had to remove part of the tumor, as much as they could. and then he started treatment.

before he could, he had to have his teeth pulled & dentures made. he had already lost so much weight, and with chemo & radiation, he only lost more. my dad was never a big eater, or rather, he didn't really care. he ate what was put in front of him (he has nine siblings) and always finished our leftovers the rest of us ignored. but...eating became a struggle for him for a different reason. the man never ate anything sweet. maybe a coffee cake when he was drinking his black coffee. suddenly he craves sugar, because it was the only thing that didn't taste bland or terrible.

the longer treatment went on, the weaker he got. i can't tell you how many times i had to pick him up off the floor. (once, i was napping downstairs and he had to bang on the floor to get my attention. we got him a little siren thing after that, because he couldn't yell loud enough if we weren't close by, and banging wasn't always the best option.) or how i had to take the emergency break off his car so he could go somewhere. or once, he was determined to mow the lawn but he couldn't start the lawnmower, but neither could i (the thing was a dinosaur). i was suddenly bigger than my dad.

he had to have a feeding tube eventually, because he kept aspirating. i had to hide all of the alcohol in the house. he had stoped smoking cigarettes, but he was vaping. his fucking oncologist told him it was okay. i guess this was earlier on when they first came out.

the wound around his feeding tube just. never healed. we took him to the hospital a few times because of it.

i can't remember what happened, but one night we had to call an ambulance. my mom & i followed them to the hospital after we grabbed a few things. my aunt & cousin beat us to the hospital. and when we got there, before we found them, there was some confusion with the ambulances. and they mistakenly told us that he was septic. but it wasn't him, it was another man. and as they were wheeling him in we were so confused. the man actually looked so much like my dad, it was scary. but then someone said his name and we were like no. i looked at him again and was like. oh my god mom that's not him. he has no beard. and that's when my cousin popped her head out and told us where my dad was.

it was one of those things we had to laugh at and my poor dad had no idea what was going on.

whenever my dad was in the hospital, my mom & i would go to the bar with my aunt, uncle & cousin. tbone, the bartender & friend of the family, would send us home with a huge to go cup of our drink of choice. he never charged us correctly. i can't explain what a lifeline they all were. (it was the only time my mom & i would drink after my dad was sick & couldn't.)

there was a time he wasn't sleeping, like he'd be awake for days? one day i went out into the kitchen, and my dad was acting a little crazy. i think this was early on. he had spilled coffee everywhere but he wasn't cleaning it up. which was all very weird, as in i don't think i'd ever seen him spill anything. and he was a clean & neat man. i have no idea what he was fussing about, but i told him i would clean it up and he got so annoyed at me, because he was going to clean it up. but i waited at least ten minutes and he didn't.

after that, my mom got his doctor to give him something for anxiety. xanax, and he could only take half and it would knock him out for hours. it helped him so much though. finally getting sleep made him a brand new person.

early on, i think after that first hospital stay, they gave us an oxygen tank & cpr equipment. teaching us how to use it...but my sister & i we're lifeguards. we knew. and he did have to use the oxygen tank. there was one night there was a power outage, and when you have someone on oxygen in the home, you need to call the power company to alert them. they're supposed to give you priority. i can't even remember how this oxygen tank work, but i guess it needed electricity. i can't even picture the thing anymore, and so much is a blur. but it was not a fun experience. we were on edge.

and my dad. god he was such a goofy, quiet guy. unless you got him talking and he could TALK. he was very unlike himself. grumpy & quiet in a different way. bored out of his mind. he wasn't worried that night like we were.

there was another day, he was going to an appointment on his own. i don't remember what it was for. but it wasn't supposed to take long and he was gone for hours. he didn't have a cell phone, never felt like he needed one. he had tried to go to the medical supply store after his appointment, but he didn't know where it was. but instead of going home, he just kept driving up & down the road it was on. so me and my mom and half the family were driving around looking for him. my mom & i on the phone, and i finally spotted his car and he pulled into the shop rite parking lot. he was so angry & frustrated. all of this was really scary, it was completely unlike him. i think this was another reason for the xanax, and a cell phone. (for the longest time i kept the few texts we had sent each other. eventually lost them when i got a new phone.)

he did go into remission eventually, the chemo & radiation worked...but he never regained the muscles in his throat. he was going to physical therapy (or whatever therapy) to learn to swallow again and there wasn't improvement. the doctors said he physically wouldn't be able to eat or drink again.

and then one day, after i had just gotten back from a trip to boston, i was at work. my sister left college because she couldn't stand being 7 hours away when he was sick. they had a very special relationship i wish i could describe. and suddenly, i get a call from tracey, my mom's friend from work and it was her son i was working with. she told me to leave & get home right away. of course it was like 5pm and a 20 minute drive took at least 30. my aunt kathleen, who i had no idea was even in town, also called me. and i could hear in her voice exactly what was wrong. i don't even know who called me first. i remember texting the group chat with my friends that something was really wrong, i couldn't say it but i knew. through all of it, i had never gotten a phone call like that.

i get home and there's an ambulance outside. my aunt kathleen & aunt joanne are there. my sister is in my downstairs apartment. he had a blood clot in his throat that burst. my sister was alone with him. she had to call 911 & do cpr until the ambulance arrived, and they couldn't save him. it was his half birthday.

i can't describe what i feel for my sister. she wouldn't talk about it and she still hasn't. i had to stop my mom from looking at my dad. i don't think she could have handled it.

i've talked about how i don't remember that week very well. but what i do remember is needing to get his chair out of the house. it's where he was sitting when it happened, and we only got it so he could have an easier time standing.

not too long after...my now wife moved in with us. and then my nanny had to move in and my mom gave me & renata the master bedroom. she couldn't stand being in there anymore. she redid the bathroom & we painted, and she took the smallest bedroom.

after my nanny passed, and the pandemic hit. she took a trip down to cape may with my sister and she came home with a trailer at a campground. she lived down there the entire summer until october. and then she decided she wasn't coming back. she bought a house.

for a few years, we rented the house from my mom until she had to sell it. now it's gone. i haven't felt too sad about it, but i do now.

when it was happening, the only people i talked to about it were renata (wife) and ryn & james (my best friends). more recently, it's been easier to talk about him. it's been 4.5 years. and i have the best friends i've ever had. it's good to remember him and feel a connection to him.

remembering this wasn't easy but i think about it a lot. he never really complained, so he never told us what it was like for him. but how it was during it all isn't how i remember him. i remember him before, from when i was little & the tickle fights. the time i threw a tantrum because i wanted to stay home with him instead of going to school. going with him to the bookstore he worked in (all the books we had without covers) the stories he'd tell me about when i was a baby.m (he taught me to climb out of my crib, i'd pull the cabinet doors off & he's put them back on and i'd do it again) what a weirdo he was calculating his gas mileage. how he didn't vote consistently until i started making him. all the sci-fi shows he watched & that we would watch together. when he wouldn't tell me what the word orgasm meant & just kept laughing at me. the way he would take his sweet time making his coffee christmas morning while my sister was vibrating & waiting for him to sit down. how he only ever wore jeans, even in the ocean. how he walked around the house in his boots. how he hated getting new shoes because they were never the same. the way he always gave me & my sister something for valentine's day. when i needed a cortisone shot in my jaw & he took me and didn't make me go back to school after because i was miserable. the way he danced. he loved 30s, 40s & 50s music. he didn't understand how we could listen to the same songs over & over, but he watched the same things over & over. his love of horror. how he taken (mini series) with my sister. the last picture with all of his siblings. the picture of him & my mom when he's wearing a lime green shirt. him mowing the lawn with the bandana rapped our his head. the way i wore bandanas because i wanted to be like him. the greenhouse we used to have in the yard. how he used to grow pot on our deck and my mom made him get rid of it when i did dare (finding weed in his drawer but having no idea what it was lol). how he collected all the different quarters and kept half dollars & dollar coins. the photos he carried around with pictures of all the kids in our family. the way i'm "just like him" and what everyone really means is probably autistic lol the story about a gay man hitting on him. the time he was arrested at the shore for open alcohol or whatever and the cop was basically a kid lol the way he would swim out really far in the ocean with me & my mom would be having a heart attack and eventually the lifeguards would yell at us to come back in. the way he went on the rollercoasters with my sister bc i didn't like them. the way he barely used crutches for a day after his knee surgery. i think about my uncle kevin telling me how much he loved me & my sister & my mom.

[soullessfawn]

Combine & Create, SBI Event

#CombineAndCreate2023

Day three: Fae + “Why are you cuddling me?” “You’re warm.”

Unlike most stories of the fae, this one started the way no one expected it to. Phil was a lone traveler, having spent the majority of his life without a home. With his vast knowledge of survival he knew how to work around the fae and there rules.

He’s met many but fell to none. Word spread of his travels through forest after forest without once falling to the hands of the creatures.

People called him a man without mortal ties, an idiot, an abomination.

What human would willingly go into the forest knowing what lays there waiting? But Phil didn’t care. There iron brackets people hand him when he goes into town as a gift that we’re secretly tests did not burn him.

Nor would he speak the truth so frequently. Where did he come from? A town, hidden away from most others. By an ocean where only boats could sail to. He lied and lied, to the point no one new of his beginnings.

This all stopped one day when he’s face to face with a tall pink headed fae. “Hellu.” It calls, eyes not even turning towards him as he sat perfectly still between two large tree roots.

Phil stopped in his tracks, quickly looking around for the fae’s ring. He spots it a bit away, red flowers curling around poisonous mushrooms. “Hi mate.” He replies. Respect leads to living, surviving. “Taking a midday nap?”

“Yes.” The fae shifts, laying on his side as he gazed up at him. Phil was about to say a quick goodbye, only to pause. The half lidded eyes of the fae were… blue. Fae’s eyes were never blue. Unless—

“Your a changling.” He blurts, eyes widening. He hasn’t seen one in years. They don’t survive past being able to walk. Nevertheless past ten. This fae looks to be in there teenage years, but he didn’t mind that before.

Fae age slower then humans and meeting a teenage fae cam sometimes be more dangerous then meeting an adult one. But if he’s a changling. Then that would mean—

“Very observant of you.” The fae drawls, yawning. “Now leave, before I dam you to the fae realm to be used as fodder.” Phil could only blink as the fae closes back his eyes fo take a nap.

Did the fae just tell him to leave? He didn’t sound very serious about the damming him thing. More so tired that he was even here talking to the man, no, child. Because this fae was a changling teenager. A rare thing.

Phil doesn’t leave. Instead he sets up camp in the small clearing. And when the fae wakes, he makes himself known. “Had a nice nap mate?” The changling jolts, head whipping over towards him in surprise.

“Not really.” He says without thinking. Blunt. Like he had forgotten he had to tell the truth no matter what. The fae huffs, narrowing his eyes on him. “What’s your name, human.”

“Phil.” He replies immediately. No power lashes at him, no bind. The fae wilts, like he had actually expected him to say his full name.

“…What is your middle and last name?” He adds.

Phil chuckles, stroking the fire he has going in front of him. “I’m not giving you those, mate.”

“Worth a try.” The teen shrugs. “Now, what are you still doing here?” Phil felt the weight of the words, like it wasn’t what the other actually wanted to say. Phil looked down at his fire poker, at the iron in his hands.

The changling wanted to know why he hasn’t stabbed him yet. “I don’t know.” He says honestly. He looks over at his packet of food, then over at the teen. He had bags underneath his eyes, dark ones. And he looked for to pale and skinny for a changling. “Do you like stake?”

For some reason, the fae followed him. Phil didn’t see him half the time, the teen sticking to the shadows and the trees. But any time Phil returned from a village, the other would be there. “Did you get more stake?”

And he reply with a simple yes. Because the other really seemed to like it. It’s one night with the teen setting up his spot next to a tree, that Phil asks a question that’s been bothering him. “Where are your parents?”

The fae stops, eyes caused downwards on his makeshift bed. “With my brothers.”

“You have siblings? Are they—“

“No, their not fae. There perfect.” The fae lays down, shutting his eyes. “They’re the reason I survived long enough to live on my own.”

Phil only hummed, eyes stuck on the kid huddled in on himself. It wasn’t rare for siblings to protect a changling from there parents. A bond like that didn’t fade just because one was a ‘monster’.

“Do you want to see them?” The fae snapped his eyes open, turning towards him.

“Heh!?”

“I’ll take you.” Phil smiles. “I’ll get you there safely.” And he means it, because no matter how many times he tried to leave in the middle of the night. Something about a child living on there own, hunted for who they are had made him stuck here.

It reminded him of family. Something he’s never really had. The fae gets up and walks over towards him, sitting down beside him. Phil stiffens, only for the other to rest his head against his shoulder. “Why are you cuddling me, mate?” He laughs.

“Your warm.” The fae hums, fully relaxing. “And it’s… Techno.” No power lashes at him, no bind. Techno had a middle and last name too, then.

“Okay.” He nods, settling down to go to bed. “We’ll set out to find your siblings in the morning. Sweat dreams.”

That morning when Phil asks how Techno slept, the changling said “Good.”

[antimonasia]

Howling at the Moon

Sandor Clegane Smut by cuntoid

The only sound for a long time is the low creak of the leather in his armor, followed closely by the metallic thud of his boots, his sword. It’s in his nature to be silent like this. Mindful. Always on alert and ready to go at a moment’s notice, fueled by some simmering thing deep in his being like a blight. His brow, perpetually drawn by both nature and his disposition, is knotted with some clear hostility today. His fondness for tolerating you on small errands such as this one is usually exciting, the chance to see a little into his life, into what he really gets up to, and you’ve been led to believe he finds amusement in it, in your perpetual wonder at his ‘mundane’ existence. This time he hasn’t so much as nodded to you since meeting you in the market and whisking you off, some food under his arm and the request for a shortcut toward the Riverlands.

“Hey… you all right?”

The Hound grunts dismissively, sparing you the barest courtesy of even looking your way. His sourness leeches into the air, a miasma that permeates through your skin and eats into your own cheerful mood, and it irks you that he’s acting like such a insolent child. You stop in your tracks and watch him trudge forth several steps before he notices your absence. He turns, grim against the gorgeous, clouded sky, ominous, and you stare him down until he gestures impatiently at the beaten path.

Once you catch up to him, he scoffs. “Something twisting your knickers?”

A hundred crude responses fill your mind and spill over your tongue, bitten back only by the remaining shred of your will. This time, you give him the gift of his own medicine, treating him to a baited silence with your eyes trained forward.

He grabs your shoulder with one huge hand, stopping you with enough force to make you stumble over your own feet. He steadies you in the same gesture, towering easily a foot or more above you, the ball of your shoulder fitting easily into the curve of his palm. Now, he looks. Now, his eyes blaze at you like the fire he hates so much.

“Out with it, girl. The fuck you want from me?”

“I just wanted to help. You haven’t said a damn thing the entire way – ”

“Did it not occur to you that this was on purpose? Do I so owe you these things, my thoughts, my burdens?” He grabs your chin when your eyes shift away from his, jerking your focus back to him. “Oh, no, none of that. You want so badly into my business, do ya? Go on, little girl. Ask your fucking questions.”

“That’s not fair!”

“We ain’t talkin fairness, are we? Can’t tease a man and pull away the last minute – go on.”

“Sandor.”

His name leaves your lips low, poisonous. It gives him pause as he considers you again, jaw tightened perceptibly as the bright boil of hate slows back to a simmer. Still he rolls his eyes and curls his lip at you, in no mood to entertain your curiosity.

“Needn’t be concerning yourself with my affairs, I think. You want to be useful? Hm? Be useful by keeping quiet and showing me to fucking Riverrun. The only use your pretty little mouth has doesn’t involve much talking.”

“You should be so lucky,” you spit, hate filling your spine like iron. Hate, and something else, something even more sinister than that. A wayward tingle that fills you and reaches out in tendrils, in long, searching fingers that sneak under your ribs and quicken your pulse. “You’re vile.”

“Yeah?” His frown melts slowly into a smirk, slanted in cruel glee, and he cocks his good brow. “Am I vile? Look at you. Flushed pink over it. You want my cock in your mouth, girl? That it?”

Whether he’s bluffing or not, blood rushes up underneath your skin and warms your throat, your ears, the apples of your cheeks. You burn with both resentment and disgust, that he should be so shamelessly forward. The most infuriating part is the truth, which pools molten in the cradle of your hips, begging to be stoked to the blaze you know he can handle.

“Bite your tongue, Hound.”

“Rather bite yours, little lamb.” He scents the air as he leans down, nose skimming the delicate edge of your ear, his hot breath on your throat, and he inhales until it comes back out in a growled hum. There’s barely room between you to start with, but he makes the effort to close the space, radiating heat and naked, stark hunger. “Think I can’t smell your cunt every time we’re alone? I can see it in your eyes, wide and dumb with lust – am I getting hotter?”

His derisive chuckle makes you shudder. His lips refuse to light on your skin and you refuse to admit to yourself that this is a necessity; loneliness is blind, after all, and you’re ready to jump directly into whatever seedy abyss seems to be parting before you, like a vision, like a fever-dream as he brings his thumb across your lips and brings his teeth to your throat. A desperate, high sound leaves you without your express bidding and this time you feel his laugh rather than hear it, buried in the nape of your neck where he seals it against you with an open-mouthed kiss, saliva hot on your skin.

He stoops low until he can grab at the hem of your skirts, inching them higher, higher, until they’re rucked up around your thighs and his fingers press into your panties, tracing the slit of your cunt through the fabric.

“Feels like I’m getting hotter. Fuck. Your poor little pussy burning up? This starved for cock, are you?”

Who has ever spoken to you like this? It’s like something from a fantasy before you drift to sleep, something unspeakably sinful that electrifies you in late hours in bed with your own hand tucked between your thighs. And now he’s here, insistent and big as ever, pawing at you like you barely have a choice in the matter. His rough hands; that’s all you can think of as his thumb pushes between your lips with one hand and he yanks your panties down with the other.

“Y’want me to ask nice, girlie?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought… lie down.”

“In the dirt…?”

In an instant, he twists two thick fingers into your pussy. As slick and eager as you are, the sudden breach inside of you is unexpected and the stretch stings, it throbs around his knuckles as he curls them into a place that laces the pain with stars, with pleasure that comes in rapid little bursts that match the scattered moans you breathe into his ear.

“Fuck, oh fuck –”

“You want to be a filthy little whore for me, and filthy... little... whores... do two things: they do what I ask of them, and they cum on my cock. Doesn’t that sound easy?”

He pulls you down, the absence of his fingers aching worse than the pain of receiving them as you wait for him to free his cock. He kneels between your spread thighs and stares down at your cunt, exposed and parted for him like a flower, like a delicacy. Like it’s his for the taking. The sight of you alone makes him draw a deep breath, chest filling before trembling on the exhale. He may not resemble a hound in the least, but he makes for a wonderful predator, shoulders undulating as he crawls the rest of the way over your prone form and tips his hips forward.

The only generosity afforded you through his first thrust is the slowness with which he moves, driving into you inch by gentle inch until he’s somehow hilted within you. He puts a hand over your mouth and coos in your ear, dripping with ridicule.

“Oh, come on, darlin’ girl – been craving it. Mmh, fuck, hold still – you’re tight, very fucking tight. Is this what you like? Being fucked into the ground by bigger, older men, hm? Should have used you before – if only I’d known. If only I’d known how hungry you were for it, for a monster like me to fill you up.”

If there are comprehensible words leaving your mouth, trapped between your lips and the tight seal of his palm, you can’t make them out. You say his name, beg him, thank him, you whine like a bitch in heat. He takes on a pace that borderlines pain, your spine arching up underneath him as if your poor, overstimulated body can’t stand to have an inch of skin not pressing against him. You swivel and buck in your limited range of motion and ride against the pain of his size, swollen and thick and forcing into you with each vicious pound. The sound your bodies make in the quiet stretch of nothingness around you must echo pretty far; the thought of an innocent stranger in the distance hearing your wanton squealing is enough to make you clench your inner walls around his cock, squeezing him, earning yourself a rumbling growl that only serves to make you spasm all over again.

“Easy, little bird. You love this. I can feel you, slut – I can feel you cum. Go on, then, keep cumming for me. Show me what a good girl you can be. Bound to make a man very happy someday; you were made to be fucked like this, like my very own little toy.”

He tilts his hips and unleashes a vicious series of thrusts that makes you scream against his hand, thrashing under his massive body as he puts more of his weight on you, pinning you, fucking you open while you reach violent climax, the swell of his head rocking into a spot so sweet you could cry. He murmurs something in your ear and it could be anything – soothing little nothings, commands, death threats – none of it would make a difference in the midst of the explosively hot rush of ecstasy that races through every vein, that glows inside of you like divine light. How could this be wrong? He’s right – he’s right about all of it, about how you’re already fantasizing about the next time he’ll do this to you as he pauses, flips you on your belly, and lifts your ass into the air so he can fuck you from behind.

The new position gives the both of you a slow hiss of approval as you suck air between your clenched teeth. It’s so much tighter this way, new nerves sparking in the dying tingle of your aftershocks. The Hound shoves his fingers into your mouth, the same fingers he’d had tucked deep inside your pussy before all this. They still faintly taste of you and he rolls his hips, needing barely a few strokes before digging his fingers into the fleshy curve of your hip with urgency, with the tension of someone about to burst.

“That’s it, fuck, there it is – bounce back on my cock, girl, do it. Do it, yeah, like that – come on, make me cum, make me cum deep inside that tight little cunt,” he grunts, losing his rhythm as he swells even bigger. The telltale throb gives him away before his moaning does, the broken stutter of his hips as he holds you flush against his body and empties his balls inside of your twitching, sore cunt.

His fingers relax over your tongue and slide out with a pop. He uses much more care disconnecting your bodies, sliding out of you a moment later and steadying you so you can redress, pulling your panties back up with some guilty pleasure at the thought of his seed seeping out of you over the afternoon, the secret thrill of your damp underwear as you walk and go about your business. He sighs with clear satisfaction as you watch, furtively, pretending to busy yourself with your skirts while he arranges his own clothing.

Once put back together, you share a silent, unreadable stare with him until he clears his throat and nods in the direction of your destination, the barest hint of a smirk on his mouth. The marks of his teeth and the feeling of his lips on your flesh is still vibrantly alive.

“Get moving, girlie. We don’t have long.”

[lshark-cs]

Iron God Chapter 8 [Ido]

  CW ABUSE

       Ido's heart hammered. He swallowed hard. As he stepped up to the shelter where their boss slept, sweat soaked his forehead even though it was freezing cold.

His brother clapped him on the shoulder. "I've got your back, Ido."

That gave the boy some courage. He rubbed his hands together and breathed on them to warm them up. "I'm back, boss!"

Haode emerged from the shelter. His eyes darted around, then found the brothers. He reached into his pockets and handed them each a pair of slitted snow goggles. Then he went and stood by the remains of the fire pit. He didn't say a single word.

Ido put his goggles on. Immediately, the growing daylight was far less harsh on his eyes. Ferash Therall's deep red eyes were meant to find light in the darkest places, and during broad daylight, they did their work too well. Ido often wished he, like Haode, could have a normal human's eyes when he wanted them, but that was a blessing known only to the most powerful Ferash Therall.

Dakko struggled to adjust his goggles. Ido offered to help, but his brother declined. Haode stayed quiet. Too quiet.

Ido came to the older warrior's side. "Haode?"

Haode startled at the sound of Ido's voice. He gasped and his head snapped around. "What?" His voice was a growl.

Ido backed away. His heart sped to a frantic race. This was bad, he thought. Haode was usually calmer in the mornings, but the sun was barely up, and he was already tense. Ido struggled for words. "I...um, can we eat now?"

Haode took a deep breath. Ido noticed him shivering as he bent down and rummaged through his pack. "Here." His voice was stiff as he handed each of the brothers a strip of jerky. Ido took his and bit into it.

Dakko accepted the offering with a tentative hand. "Thanks."

Haode nodded, then stared at the ground.

Ido swallowed, then crouched next to their boss. "You should eat too."

"I know," said Haode. He grabbed a strip of meat for himself and stared at it, wide-eyed. His body gave a violent shudder as he took a bite. Haode gagged and then forced himself to swallow.

Ido couldn't even imagine the agony of living in so much fear that food became poison.

Haode rubbed his eyes. "Put your hood up, Dakko."

Dakko did as he was told. Ido shot his brother a nervous glance. Any moment, their boss could lose what little composure he held onto, and they both knew it.

When Haode's eyes met his, Ido resisted the urge to shrink away. "Haode, there's something we need to tell you."

"I know." Haode stood up. "What's stopping you from saying it, then?"

Ido stayed on the ground and trembled. He looked at Dakko, who also looked petrified.

Haode slapped him. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Ido cried out in pain. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He clutched his head in his hands. "Boss, I found a blood trail. Tracks that vanished into a bluehole. I think Styzia got her."

Haode grabbed the boy's upper arm and yanked him to his feet. "I know. I heard your little discussion." His eyes widened. "I heard everything."

"Boss, we can still get her," said Dakko. "Really. It's not over yet."

"That's what I want to believe. So desperately." Haode let go of Ido and lowered his head. "I don't want to die."

Ido still couldn't wrap his head around how someone could suffer like this for as long as Haode had and still not want to die. Wouldn't it be a relief? He wanted to ask, but he was too afraid of being struck again.

Haode squeezed his arm. "Ido?"

Ido put a hand on the man's wrist. "What is it?"

Haode asked in a small voice, like a scared child. "Do you want me to die?"

"Of course not." Dakko interrupted. "Why would we?"

"I'm asking Ido." Some of Haode's growl returned. "Ido, do you want me to die?"

Ido stiffened. He knew the wrong answer could lead to a broken bone. "No," he said.

"But?" Haode asked. "If you have more to say, then say it."

Ido took a deep breath. "But is this living, boss? Is this really better than whatever death will bring?"

"I've seen what death brings," said Haode. His eyes turned from brown to the Ferash Therall's red, then back to brown. "I can't let that happen. Not to me, and not to either of you."

A tear slipped down Ido's still-inflamed cheek.

Haode let go of him and nodded. "Let's ask the people what happened. Dakko, scatter our camp. Ido and I will be at the village. You can catch up to us when you're ready." He swung his pack over his shoulders.

Ido grabbed his pack and followed Haode. "See you soon, brother."

"See you." Dakko set to work scattering the remains of their fire pit.

Ido struggled to keep up with Haode. There were so many tree roots and ice slicks hidden under the snow that he could barely keep his footing. The older warrior stayed far ahead of him and never so much as stumbled. From behind, Haode almost looked like his old self. Confident, composed, and ready for every possible outcome.

They arrived at the tiny village of Felltree as the sun lifted itself farther off the horizon. The trees were sparser, and the sunlight was blindingly bright, even through the snow goggles. Ido squinted and tried to shield his eyes with his hand. Haode wasn't troubled. He had been through two ascensions while Ido and his brother had only endured one. Not that he wanted another ascension, Ido thought. One had been bad enough. Still, it would have been wonderful to see in daylight without pain.

Felltree had only one path. The homes were tiny cabins, likely none with more than one room. It was dead quiet until a pack of children scurried out of one lodge. Their laughter filled the air. One boy pushed another to the ground. Then the laughter turned to yelling.

"Get back in here!" A woman shouted from the doorway. "Now, or the sabretooth will get you!" She herded them back inside and slammed the door behind them.

Ido caught up to Haode. "Sabretooth?"

"They might not be talking about the cat." Haode wiped sweat off his forehead. "Ido, go ahead and give her a knock."

The apparent lack of fear in his boss's voice startled Ido. He nodded, then ran to the woman's door and gave a few firm knocks on the splintery old wood.

Inside, he heard the children yell and laugh. The woman scolded them. Thinking he hadn't been heard the first time, Ido knocked again.

"I'm coming, you impatient cur!" The door swung open. She looked at Ido up and down. "Oh, you're not – wait, who are you? I've never seen you before."

Ido hoped his eyes didn't shine too much through the goggles. "I'm sorry, I..."

Haode came up behind him and clapped him on the shoulder. "We don't mean any trouble, ma'am, but we're passing through here and have a few questions."

The woman crossed her arms. "No one ever shows up in Felltree, not until recently at least." She looked down. "And the most recent passers-through brought nothing but trouble. I'm not interested." She reached to close the door.

Haode put his foot in the doorway. "Did one of them have white hair?"

"Hell if I know." She looked over her shoulder to glare at the pack of rowdy children.

Ido glanced at Haode and then back at the woman. "What about a man in a sabretooth mask?"

She stopped. Her eyes widened. "What are you getting at?"

The children fell quiet behind her. Then one started to cry. Ido bit his lip. He felt Haode's hand tremble on his shoulder.

Haode's voice, however, showed no fear. "Tell us what happened. Everything. We might be able to help you."

She gave them a long and wary look, then propped the door to let them in. "Might as well not stand out in the cold, then. What are your names?"

"I'm Haode," his boss said. "And this is Ido."

The woman brushed aside a strand of her wiry dark hair. "He your son?"

"He might as well be," said Haode.

Ido's heart clenched up at those words. He looked down at the snow-tracked floor and said nothing.

"My name is Pileated Woodpecker," said the woman. "Everyone calls me Peck, though. I'm the head of this village. Or what's left of it." She went over to the crying child and hugged him. "It's all right, Starling. Shhh."

Ido watched her comfort the crying boy and wondered what a mother's hug felt like. He counted seven children in the room and had to ask. "Are they all yours?"

"They might as well be now," said Peck. "All these little fledglings lost their father a short while ago, when the beasts came to us." She looked up and her face twisted with rage and grief. "For that girl with the white hair. That devil-child. They murdered our sweet Nana and stole her face. Our entire village guard, all slaughtered. In one night and day I lost a fifth of my people."

"I'm so sorry," said Ido. For a split second he imagined losing Dakko or Haode, and the thought alone nearly crushed him.

"Those monsters came from Styzia," Haode growled. "Do you know if they took that girl?"

Peck shrugged. A girl barely above a toddler tugged at her hair. Peck flinched, then patted the little girl's head. "What does it matter to you, anyway? We're no one and we live out in nowhere." Then her eyes widened again. "Those Ferash Therall. Did they attack you too?"

"Show your eyes, Ido," Haode instructed.

Ido did as he was told. Peck gasped. The children shrunk away in collective terror at the sight of his red gaze.

"We are Ferash Therall," said Haode. "Real Ferash Therall."

Peck spread her arms out to shield the children. "Get out. Now."

"But we're not like them," Ido insisted. He lowered his goggles to cover his eyes again. "We're as much their victims as you are."

"Why should I trust you?" Peck snarled. "Your kind have caused my people nothing but agony!"

Ido saw Haode jolt as Peck raised her voice. For a split second, he was afraid his boss would lash out. It surprised him, then, when Haode responded in an almost calm tone. "That makes two of us, then." He rubbed his eyes. "You don't have to trust us, but I believe our goals align."

"And what's that?" Peck pulled herself away from the children and stood up to glare Haode right in the eyes.

Ido swallowed hard.

Haode took a deep, shuddering breath. "No one can deny us our right to live." He bared his teeth. "What's left of your people, any neighboring villages, anyone and everyone who's ever bled at the hands of those beasts. We'll show Styzia the meaning of justice."

Ido shivered. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. But beneath those courageous words was nothing but fear. Fear, savagery, and the desperation of a bear caught in a trap, gnawing at its own foot. For another day of life, no sacrifice was too great. But a vile seed had rooted itself in Ido's mind.

Whatever kept Haode moving forward on his dead end path, could it truly be called life?