#I wanted to have them play their ribs like a xylophone

[darkelfharlot]

I had a very clear idea for my world building artlangs from the jump. Elf language sounds "choppy" and harsh with a lot of double consonants as well as ä and ö sounds in there. Lycan is more smooth and "gravel-y" with emphasis on r and ch type sounds.

The skeletons don't have vocal chords due to being skeletons and decomposed meat mixed with sentient mushroom. They utilize written language, having the most elaborate writing system out of all the races. Skeletons also use a vaguely sign language adjacent system that revolves around each bone on their body having it's own meanings. Though their written language is much, much more flexible. Having a set number of bones to work with limits communication to essentials.

[elliebyrrdwrites]

Draco blinked down at Hermione, her confession perched between them, teetering precariously. Neither seemed to know what to do with it. Hermione returned her focus to her hand, still pressed over his chest, still feeling the racing heart that rapidly beat against his ribs. Briefly, she imagined it playing against them like a xylophone and wondered what the song of his heart would sound like.

Gods, she was mental.

Draco drew back slightly, and lifted a hand rub at his jaw. He hadn’t had a bit of stubble appear over their time here and sometimes, she missed it. Occasionally, when he’d had a rough enough night, he would show up to work without shaving and it was enough to add a bit of ruggedness to his otherwise harsh and angelic features. It would cause her mind to race and her intestines to twist.

He still rubbed at his jawline when he was pensive and it was enough to cause her eyes to stare at the muscles contracting as he stared down at her. There was a slightly perplexed expression to his eyes as they pinched around the edges.

“What does that mean, Granger?” His hand moved to his hair, shoving the wet stubborn strands back. The moisture absorbed by his hair caused the follicles to frizz slightly, and the wave in his hair was more prominent. “You’re engaged with your school sweetheart.”

That pesky pang of guilt swept over her, again. She scowled up at him, blaming him for the reappearance. “Like I don’t know that? Why do you think I want to get back?”

Draco flinched before taking another step back. His hand dragged back down his face and he rubbed furiously at it with his palm as her hand slipped out of his grasp.

“What the fuck, Granger?” His tone was almost scathing and judgy.

It was her turn to flinch. Wrapping her arms around herself in a poor attempt to fight off the sudden chill that had nothing to do with the rain or the cool temperature of the city, Hermione looked away from him, feeling the sting of tears at the backs of her eyes.

“How —” Draco cut himself off. “When,” he paused again, apparently to put her adulterous thoughts into words that made any sense. “Why?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and dropped her arms to her side, her hands balling up into fists. “How dare you act all high and mighty.” His eyes bugged out, momentarily, as she glared up at him.

She stepped fully into his space, adding the steps he subtracted as she divided her fury up into thirds. She felt judged and Hermione never appreciated the feeling, no matter how often she tended to cast the same feeling outwards. She felt hurt by his reaction. Not once since she and Draco became coworkers — and what some may consider friends — had she ever felt judged by him. This one stung a bit, really clawed at the skin beneath her fingernails. And, she felt disappointed. Because she felt that attraction build between them since they both died, possibly before then, and she had looked foreword to the kiss she was certain it would all lead up to.

“You were the one who was inappropriately flirting with me!” She raised her hand and dug her index finger into his chest. “Did you think I woke up that morning, planning on kissing you? Did you think I enjoy knowing that I spent the last two years working beside you pointedly ignoring your looks and your dazzling smile, just to end up wanting to kiss you anyway?”

Draco’s eyes lit up and that stupid, godsawful smile of his dazzled beneath the glare of the street light.

“I wasn’t supposed to develop a single bit of desire for you. But then you went and fucked it all up.”

His smile turned feral at the way she cursed and shoved at him. “And now I’m dead!” She shouted up at him and he might have winced at the brutality of her truth slamming into the conversation.

“I’m dead and now I’m stuck with you, anyway, and your stupid hair and smells and why is everything so damn beautiful? You’re more beautiful in death than in life and I just can’t stand it!”

“Granger.” Draco wrapped his fingers around the one she kept stabbing him in the chest with. She shook her head, furiously ignoring him, because she was not done venting.

“And now we’re actual Grim Reapers, Malfoy!” She was nearly hysterical with a brittle laugh and fresh tears threatening to form. “We died, which apparently was an accident that not even the Fates saw coming and now we have to kill people and all because you hesitated to kiss me!”

Draco bit down on his lip and watched as everything poured out of her and she was certain her face was crimson. She was certain that she was nearly glowing with all of the anger and frustration.

“So don’t you dare judge me for wanting to kiss you despite be—”

Draco’s hands closed over her either side of her face split seconds before he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, effectively shutting her the fuck up.

If every color and every touch was more vibrant and electric, then there may have been no words to describe the way Draco’s lips felt against hers.

There was a vast array of sensations flickering through her at light speed. Shock, nerves, excitement. They all pooled together into want and need and desperation.

His lips were as soft as she had imagined, as firm as she had needed and skilled beyond belief. It sent warmth into her stomach, spreading quickly down between her thighs. His hands were firm against her face, coaxing her head to tilt perfectly so, as his mouth slanted over hers, deepening the kiss with the faintest nudge of his lips.

The feel of his tongue sweeping gently against the seam of her lips sent a thrill through her, shuddering through her body and down her spine. When she felt the gentle dance against her own tongue, she might have keened or moaned at the taste of his mouth. Like cloves and mint and fresh water. Each of those flavors tingled against her tongue as she found her hands pulling him closer, crushing him into her, so that she could drink all of him in, slowly, all at once. She was greedy and filled with so much want that it threatened to destroy her.

Draco’s hands moved to the back of her head and slowly made their way down her shoulders, her back. They settled at two cozy spots, just at the small of back and between her shoulder blades, the damp material of her shirt cinched between his fingers.

She couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t get enough friction on all of the sensitive spots of her body, like the rigid peaks of her breasts or the throbbing warmth dampening between her legs.

Draco seemed just as eager and desperate, his arms tightening around her, his hips crashing into hers. Her breasts squeezed, almost painfully, against his body.

But, he pulled away, both of them gasping for air, and ran a hand over her cheek. It was a failed attempt to remove some of the water quickly collecting on her skin. The mist had evolved into a drizzle and she was looking up at him through the water collecting on the tips of her eyelashes as he stared down at her.

Draco was looking at her with a sense of wonder. He looked at her like he couldn’t believe what was in front of him. He looked at her like he wanted more.

And she was going to kiss him again, demand more for herself. She was going to kiss him for as long as she could because she had forgotten how beautiful and erotic it was to kiss like this.

To be fair, nobody had ever kissed her like this. Not even Ron.

Draco’s lips and his tongue had grace and finesse and for a second, she remembered the way he danced for her just before they fell through the Veil.

But all of that did not lead up to another kiss because there was a sudden creeping sensation at the back of her neck. It pulled at the skin and tightened it, sending the nerves down her back into a sudden, prickly awareness. Something was watching them.

Draco seemed to sense it, too, because he quickly gathered her into his side and peered into the surrounding trees that dotted the property of the park. Both of their wands were out and pointed in the direction the oily sensation seemed to emanate from.

The glare of the street lamp reflected off of two, dark eyes peering back at them. Hermione stiffened and pushed herself more firmly into Draco’s side. The Pacific Northwest was home to all sorts of predators; bears, wolves and even moose were known to be a cause for concern.

But, Draco and Hermione were dead. What could a bear really do to them? However, the feeling she got from the entity tucked in between those two broad Douglas firs was more insidious than predatory.

“We should go.” She murmured to Draco, who nodded, but kept his eyes narrowed in on the vague eyes glowing back at them.

They ran and the unnerving presence trickled away from them them as they stumbled onto a bar attached to a little strip mall. Outside of the bar, motorcycles were lined up, the shiny aluminum sparkling with the rain and the bright blue and green lights attached to the bars sign that read Rivers Bar & Grill.

Draco hauled her inside of the establishment and pinned her onto a barstool before taking one beside her.

“What are we doing here?”

“I need a drink.” He murmured, lifting his finger for the bartender’s attention.

“We’re dead, Malfoy.” She sighed.

“I need to think and I usually have a stiff drink in my hand when I have this much information to process.” He shook his head and raised his hand higher into the air.

“You are forced to process loads of information, every day, at work. I never see you with a drink then.”

“That’s different,” He scoffed. ��Work isn’t the same kind of information. This deals with feelings.” He sighed when he continued to be ignored and dropped his hand to the wooden slab of a bar. “Oi, what do I have to do to get a bloody drink?”

Hermione didn’t fail to notice that the all of the emotions he felt after kissing her was what he was finding more difficult than constructing a diagnostic charm to detect a disruption of energy within this dimension and the calculation of quantum physics. She also didn’t fail to notice that this was the most frazzled he had been since they had died. “We don’t even have money.” She reminded him.

“We don’t need money, Granger, we’re magical. And we're dead. What's the worse that could happen?”

She shrugged and lifted her hand into the air, immediately catching the eye of the bartender behind the counter. He lifted his chin at her and lumbered over, earning a scoff of indignation from Draco.

The bartender was a broad man with a mustache that was the same salt and pepper color as his short hair. He wore a thick flannel of red and black and had a small hoop earring on his left ear.

“What will it be, ma’am?”

“I’ll take a gin and tonic and my friend here,” She shifted in her chair, facing Draco, “Will have a glass of whiskey.”

Draco’s brow lifted and she couldn’t help but grin as the bartender huffed, running a critical eye over Draco and his posh posture.

“Can we get drunk? I haven’t even had a drink of water since we died. Can we even pee?” She asked him, propping her elbow up onto the bar and eyeing him. His cheeks were all flushed from the run and their kiss, his damp hair was carelessly shoved back behind his ears as he pulled several napkins from the little stack set on the bar into his lap. She watched as he began to transfigure them into American tender.

“Consider this an experiment.” His lips quirked as the bartender set their drinks down in front of them. Draco slid a twenty dollar bill onto the bar. “Keep the change.”

[prolix-yuy]

Writers' Iron Chef #9: My Everything and Beyond

[PROMPT] Song lyrics from Leon Bridges’ “Beyond” “Do you think I’m being foolish if I don’t rush in?

I’m scared to death that she might be it That the love is real That the shoe might fit She might just be my everything and beyond”

[TIME LIMIT] Optional, 10 minutes prep. time 30 minutes writing time Optional, 10 minutes editing time

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Rating: T, some angsty Marcus, overthinking galore, lotsa sweetness. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ so MINORS DNI.

Summary: He's never named the feeling in his chest, but it's as much a part of him as he wants you to be,

Notes: Written for Writers’ Iron Chef Prompt 9.

To ease myself back into writing after the holidays, here's a little fun with Marcus. I am a classically trained overthinker, so I thought it would be fun to see Marcus trying his darnedest to not keep making the same mistakes. I love these prompts as little writing warmups, and while this one got a little belabored in the metaphor it definitely got my wheels turning! Thanks to @writersironchef for always giving the best prompts!

He was wrong before, and that’s what scares him now. This twisting, aching, anxious feeling scrambling in his chest is so close to what he felt for Teresa, but with sharper teeth. Claws that scrape and dig between his ribs. And words that drift up and past his ears like steam from an unattended teapot ready to burst into song.

You love her.

You love her.

You love her.

But Marcus doesn’t know when to trust that voice anymore. Every time it’s hissed softly into his hopeful ear his heart took the damage. College girlfriend who balked at his promise ring. A wife gained, a wife lost. Another proposal dashed to bits on the cold concrete. This feeling is a liar, a trickster that beats against its confines no matter how hard Marcus tries to ignore it. 

When you looked at him for the first time, more than the passing glance he waited for every morning, it tapped tentatively against his sternum.

When your morning greetings grew from “Hello Marcus!” to “I wish you never told me about The Subject was Roses, I cried for an hour after. You better have lunch free to talk about it!” it skated up his spine like ascending notes on a xylophone. 

And finally, after six dinners at the same terrible Chinese place between your apartment when he admitted he wished all of them had been dates, it dug its claws into his chest and held still for a breath.

But when you smiled over the lip of your beer, and said “Haven’t they been?” it roared.

Falling in love was Marcus’ true profession, but was he ever lousy at staying employed. Not for lack of trying, and after Teresa he realized maybe for an abundance of trying. So with you he wrestles the tremors of excitement back. He’s going to play it cool, play it slow. Dampen the voice that begs him to kiss you, hold you, tell you every little thing he wants and desires and what he’ll do to give you the world.

He’s going to do it right this time.

But every time he tries not to linger on your touch, he finds his hands ghosting over your skin. Your teases set his face ablaze, needing to take several laps around the office to regain his composure. And the last few times he’d watched you mount your steps, saying goodnight with a beat longer than necessary before heading inside, he wanted to follow. 

He knows he’s getting close to trouble now. The worst part is how much you’re stoking this feeling, and how hard it's becoming to resist. All he wants to do is quell the ache ponging around his stomach, but your last moments each night are spent obsessing over whether now is the time to kiss you. And if it is, can he stop once he’s started?

You’re starting to notice, and it’s only making it worse. The pendulum has swung too far in the other direction, and now Marcus is positively glacial in his courtship. Thinking about it makes his jaw ache, the twin desires of tell her everything and don’t scare her off become a torturous purgatory of his own devising.

Tonight the air is crisp, and you’re walking closer than usual. He took you to a cozy Mediterranean place this time, the vegetal spice of oregano and grape leaves still dancing on his tongue. You’d slipped your hand into his, tucking both into his overcoat pocket and the closeness makes the feeling rabid.

You love her.

I like her. A lot. 

Tell her you love her.

I’ll scare her away.

Tell her you need her.

Stop it.

Kiss her kiss her taste her take her.

Marcus barely realizes he’s climbed the steps with you before he’s there, your hand still in his and your smile soft on your lips. He’s at a loss, all the words he’s warring with trapped in his throat. 

“I…” he manages to croak out.

“Marcus,” you interrupt, opening your front door. If he could just focus for a moment, concentrate on the perfect arrangement of words to let you know how he feels without being too much, too fast, too soon.

“What are you waiting for?”

Your question quells the feeling for the first time in…Marcus isn’t sure how long. But it finally settles, like a feral cat come to love its home. And Marcus finally breathes.

“For you,” he says, chasing your smile as long as you’ll let him.

END

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[awwthenticc]

SO. UM. HERES SOME WRITING WIP I NEVER FINISHED BECAUSE MISS HOLLOWAY AND WILBUR CROSS ARE ON MY MIND AND I WROTE THIS LIKE. A MONTH AGO??

so it's... It's (tries to explain the idea behind this) post-killer track. Miss Holloway is now in her guidance councilor era. So. "Miss Holiday"

I think I was going to make Hollowduke be happy but never got to writing it.

And wilbur basically messes with her. He pokes her around in her own dreams or whatever. IT WAS HONESTLY AN EXCUSE TO DESCRIBE HIM. I WANTED TO WRITE HIM. THATS HONESTLY THE REASON.

(Italics didnt save but i honestly don't care :/)

“Miss Holiday? – Oh, Miss Holloway, you could do so much better than that~...” 

A voice in Miss Holloway’s mind chided her. Voice distant, echoing all around her, reaching the far corners of her mind, yet, it slowly became one, layers overlaying to become a singular voice. Eyes looking down – Miss Holloway would have stood in front of a pile of bones–a recognizable blade buried between the hollow rib cage that was decorated with cobwebs, spiders skittering around. 

–

A sight which seemed to appear out of nowhere while she was busy glancing around the mindscape she was in. It was dark, the floor almost wet, yet if anyone looked close enough, it would become clear that they were in Miss Retro’s diner. A more cryptid, abandoned version of it. Resemblant of one leaving a place behind for another profession. Which only made sense for owning a place with so many smiling faces. And with that, memorable faces that came with more.. Upsetting personalities.

The bones would have bugun to shift around, a force bringing them together, reconstructing with a musical tone– like playing a xylophone. Clitter, Clatter. Click. Clack. It built itself up. 

With joints popping into place. Cartilage. Followed with muscle, appearing from nothing, with a glow of bright green that appeared by his feet, Muscle, skin, twisting, wrapping up the foundation of a body, starting from the bottom of the skeleton, and going up. Same with the glow. As it all came together - layer after layer, the glow grew. Cracking, sculpting, stretching, contorting. It groaned, something from the back of its throat, broken vocal cords deconstructed coming together, fixing itself. Moaning out a weak tone as the thing, just a heap of bones just before, became something necromanced, brought to life.  Features appearing one after the other. The denim wardrobe. The straight stance that built itself up after leaning forward lazily. The silver dog tag. The slicked back, pitch black hair that ran down the figure's neck – A neck which supported a head that was leaned back, before reeling forward, bobbing. 

It was unstable, trying to hold itself up. Before it opened its eyes, lifeless, an endless space of white before it the color of the gaze rolled from the back of its skull. Bright green. Bony fingers popping as it cracked its knuckles before fixing its dog tag, slipping it under its shirt just after wiggling them once or twice. It smiled.. He smiled. Teeth decomposed, rotten, black. 

And with a quick graise of his tongue, his teeth whitened. And he almost looked human. It wasn't a surprise that his teeth were far from perfect. But his sly grin – with sharp canines, and teeth that didn’t look like they hadn’t been brushed every day – would look better than it would before.

Though his smile dropped just as those green eyes glanced down. Though it only dropped just a little. Remembrance flashing over his look as he would let out a shallow, almost dark chuckle. Amusement… Miss Holloway assumed. 

The necromanced man slid a hand up from the resting spot by his sides, trailing up to the black blade that had resided in his reformed appearance. Walking his fingers up towards the handle, and wrapping them around right after. Clutching it with a quiet focus. Trained on it. Taking a moment before..

A faint groan left the mouth of the man as his brows furrowed, the focused look faltering for a second with lids that flickered shut once or twice. The audible slick sound that came from the cavity in which the wound existed. Where the blade resided. Slowly pulling it out, as the skin around it seemed to hold it tight. Keep it in place like it belonged. Healing over with every tug to simply prevent the man from falling apart, resulting in the agonizing sound of wet flesh and muscle as he tore. Squishing, squelching. 

Going on. Just before the green eyed disciple decided to leave this waiting game, and he got it over with. Using both hands he clenched the blade before ripping it out of its place. Earning an exhale, eyes closing for just a moment before opening them once again. Examining the blade.. Skin healing, coming back together as if the hole in his chest never existed.

Black blood dripped from the tip, falling to the floor below.. Along with dripping down to the handle, dribbling onto his closed fist.. 

He dropped it, hitting the wet tile with a hollow clang. Echoing throughout the space they were both in before he kicked it away with one foot.

–

“..I would’ve chosen a different name personally.” He kept his eyes on where his foot kicked the blade before looking at himself to fix his shirt, fix his look, trailing off before knowing when to carry on. Just forgetting what he had just done, acting like it was everything normal. Because it was normal.. He’s pulled himself together more times than he could count by now…

 “Why… they’re both so close to being the same, it just might as well make both of your little “characters” carbon copies….. Or, out of all things.. sisters. ”

Wilbur Cross’s eyes landed on her. Movements of his glance not choppy and quick, flicking around like a frantic piece of prey - no, his eyes rolled, like a marble of sorts, held and set in some place in his skull, existing in his eye sockets, yet it wouldn’t define where his gaze would land. How physics worked.. Because he could still have his head tilted down, and his eyes would be able to still roll into the back of his skull- round about the other way, and come back up from the bottom..  

He grinned. “But we both know that's highly unlikely… don't we? Cause, tell me, when was the last time you’ve seen a pair of twins walk their way around here Miss Hollowa–” 

“What do you want?” The Red headed woman cut him off from finishing his question. Her words are less of a question, and more of a statement. Impatient to hear his mindless talk, and wanting him to get to the point.

And he would frown at her, almost pouting. “Not even letting me finish what I was gonna say?” Though his frowny face would be more playful than anything… Tragically though to his own amusement, Miss Holloway was not bouncing this energy back.

She just looked at him. Then let out the smallest huff. “Not when I don’t have time for you. Insulting what I do isn’t going too–” He cut her off. Drawling with a southern voice.

“Wellllll, I wouldn’t say insulting…. Critiquing would be a better word.” Commenting, stopping her from saying what she had to say… Fixing a loose hair that freed itself from behind his ear. But his green eyes would once again land on her before he blinked with an “OH! Sorry, did I cut you off?.....” 

He asked. Though it would be obvious that any ounce of care in his question would be disregarded for simple fun.. Shown by the smile that he did NOT try to hide. In other words, he was messing with her. 

She stared back. Unamused. “What do you want.” Miss Holloway repeated. “Are you just here to… comment on how I’m living my life? To just talk.. Again?”

Again. 

To Miss Holloway, it wouldn’t be a surprise that Wilbur would be speaking to her in her own mental mindscape. She blamed it on having things on her mind. Recently, she had been thinking about plenty of things that didn’t fully matter.

[thequietmanno1]

TheLreads, Vigilantes ch 103, Replies Part 2

1) “…

They fucking WHAT now

I hope I got that wrong, and you mean to say that Koichi is keeping track of McBee even at higher speeds, because otherwise…”- It seems that the shots somehow follow Koichi’s intended target, albeit with a low curving turn to them. It’s more noticeable with the softball shots, but it makes sense if Koichi’s firing them half on instinct at the indistinct blur Nomura’s become at high speed without really being certain of what part of him to hit. 2) “Bahahaha- McBee got defeated once again by the weakest of shits, oh my god man, AfO did a damn good job with this one, didn’t he?”- Koichi has been beating Nomura back with a nerf gun, when he actually has a genuinely dangerous arsenal hidden as backup. When Nomura finds out that he’s being handled with kiddie gloves this whole time, he’ll flip. 3) “Oh do you Phelps? I thought that you didn’t worked with Vigilantes, and rules and you let this run for too long and blah blah blah just let us see Koichi chasing McBee already.”- It’s actually a task that falls well within the purview of ordinary citizens, albeit rare because of the onset of mobile communication these days: Call for Help. 4) “oh, you mean the guys that you could’ve used before? what a fascinating fucking idea McBee, shame it’s too late for it now.”- It does clear the area of Nomura’s backup to allow him and Koichi to have a solo one-on-one at long last. 5) “Avoiding wasting them… like you did already against Aizawa? Oh my god man, he’s even talking to himself, I think the O'Clock tulpa started to grow sick of his shit.”- Between him and Tomura’s headspace, it seems the writers of the MHA verse have a real thing for giving their main villains multiple mental issues and personalities. 6) “HE FUCKING BETTER NOT

YOU HEAR ME FURUHASHI. YOU BETTER NOT.

IF YOU DO THAT I’LL STEAL YOUR FEMUR AND USE IT TO PLAY XYLOPHONE WITH YOUR RIBS”- Crises has been averted…for now. It’s kinda funny how summoning All Might is as much of a threat to our enjoyment of reading the story as it is to the villains. 7) “YES YES YES THERE’S STILL A CHANCE TO SALVAGE THIS STORY YES McBEE GO AFTER KOICHI AGAINST YOUR BETTER JUDGMENT”- Didn’t have to this time, as Koichi came to him for the final showdown. 8) “OH MY GOD THE O'TULPA JUST WENT “WELL, YOU’RE A LOST CASE, I DON’T KNOW WHAT I CAN SAY TO MAKE YOU NOTICE HOW STUPID THAT IS””- Hey, if rational arguments won’t cut it, indulge in his emotional breakdown so he at least cooperates a bit more, rather than standing still arguing with his imaginary friend, which helps nobody. 9) “OH THANK THE FUCKING GOD!

IT WAS KOICHI

…

WHY IT WAS KOICHI?

IS THIS PART OF THE PLAN SOMEHOW? HUH?”-  Koichi: I Am Here!....to draw Aggro! 10) “McBEE IS LIKE >)

NOW THINGS ARE STARTING TO LOOK PROMISING ONCE AGAIN”- Koichi is the only one not looking forward to this upcoming destined showdown. 11) “And that’s the end of the chapter, and boy did we just dodged a bullet there. Not like McBee that is.

But now that they put that card on the table I’m really fucking concerned that this is how it’s gonna end, with All Might showing up. I’m feeling scared that Koichi is there to cause a distraction while Soga leaves on his bike to call for backup.I’m terrified of that possibility.”- The one time we don’t want the mega-hero to show up and rescue everybody, because that’d mean stealing Koichi’s thunder. @thelreads

[zwoelffarben]

Hi,

I saw your reblog on the fat-phobia thread and saw you claim to be chronically underweight, which is something i don't hear people talk about because I'm one of those people who has ribs that can be played as a xylophone.

But i feel sad about it.

And seeing you say that being chronically underweight was the worst experience of your life somehow led me to thinking that life must be better if I'm fatter.

I don't even know why I'm writing all this to you i have pending assignments but i just somehow felt comfortable telling you this-

thanks X

I'm always happy when my thoughts on my experience help people, so if I may expound upon them further, I'm pretty sure I've got some flavor of metabolic abnormality where food goes through my body without being fully processed. There's a lot of direct and indirect evidence pointing to that explaination but I've never consulted with a doctor about it, so it's just an observation of how my body appears to work and not a diagnosis.

But in my early life, despite eating twice as much food as everyone else around me, I was just apparently not getting enough real caloric intake for my body to store anything as muscle or fat. As a result:

I was terrible at sports because my body didn't have the energy to build strength or endurence; not matter how much I practiced I did not improve.

I was regularly lethargic, feeling the need for 10~14 hours of sleep or rest a day, which of course I wasn't getting being in a society that expects you to sleep maybe 7-8 hours a day.

I was almost constantly hungry even after eating my meals; and if I ever managed to sate myself, I'd be hungry enough to want to eat again within maybe two hours. I was well-acquanted wit the sensation of slowly starving on a full stomach.

I had no fat anywhere on my body; sure you could see my rib bones and play them like a xylophone, but more importantly, my ass was skin over bone. I could accutely feel the geometry of every seat I sat in; if my ass slid along a metal bleacher my coccyx nestled into the groove like the evergiven in the seuz, and if my ass slid across the metal bleacher, my coccyx hopscotched into every groove while I kept count. It was to say the least, deeply uncomfortable.

I was much more miserable about life back then than I am now, and some of that is owed to the fact that I was a teenager being teenaged. We're pretty much all little balls of angst around that age, but I think my state of being skinner than Death contributed an non-insignificant amount toward making me a particularly pungent ball of angst, yeah?

I'm still a skinny guy, but now I've got some thigh fat, ass fat, belly fat, manboob, and facial fat, and various muscles, and I'm much happier about that being the case than I think I would be if you could still play my ribs like a xylophone.

Anyway, enough about me; let's talk about you.

If I may make a recommendation to you as a stranger on the internet with a degree in creative writing and maths, I'd suggest that if your current weight is making you unhappy or uncomfortable because of how being that weight affects your experience of the world, that you look into having a dicussion with a reputable nutritionist about finding a long-term dietary plan to put and keep on weight, and if you and the nutritionist struggle to find an effective plan to meet your goals, you then look into having a chat with a doctor or specialist about potential underlying causes for your body's demonstrated inability to put on weight.

It's possible that my suggestion isn't something you can do or would want to, since it sounds like a non-zero amount of effort and I don't know if your circumstances even present it as an accessable course of action: I'm just a stranger on the internet with a degree in creative writing and maths.

But, if you're unhappy about how something is affecting you, taking whatever steps you consider practical to addressing the root cause of the unhappiness is generally speaking good praxis. And if I had a do-over with infinite resources I definitely would want to chat with an expert or two about why I could eat two large pizzas and still feel a bit peckish while maintaining my sticc ass despite negative effort.

Food for thought

[senor-plume]

Drugs

Playing some Lazy desire music As the centipedes in my legs Crawl around Chewing on the meat And keeping me At high alert In this swanky sickened domicile

So…with the insects inside of me I feel clammy and cold Shaking a bit from The lack of medicine In the cupboard …Down my throat Or in my veins …Nothing up my nose Nor up my smooth ass

If it wasn't for the fine tunes I truly believe I would Raise the tattered rope up From the ceiling And Have done with it …Calling it a day

So, I swallow pesticides In hopes of ending this Infestation And perhaps a nice side effect Will go down And I'll get slightly High …Something to enhance the ditties That I play From the plastic box That is housed on the shelf About three feet away from my fingers

And in the end This will be a day That will come back to me Often And leave it imprints In my buried brain That will not be Reminisced romantically

I play The Fixx For the hell of it As my bong remains Empty And no powder around …No needles …No bottles …No sex even Just me alone Dealing with this anxiety attack Sober

I can…and I do Light a Camel up And exhale the blue smoke Up high Which scatters like a gang bang siren Around the ceiling fan Which is keeping me So very cool On this November afternoon

It is happening

It is going down

And the song comes to its Conclusion And now only a New Wave echo Reaches my waxy ears And parades down my neck Through my spine And deep into my legs Which is my only hope For A touch of normalcy On this crazy day

Life is over

My beard is scratchy And in need of some dye To ink out the grays As I suffer alone On McDonald Avenue Second floor Binghamton, NY With my xylophone ribs Cracked out And in need of a medicine …A pill of some sort That can make me feel Whole Again As I stare directly at the screen And watch as the words Pollute my field of vision

And not a drop of poetry Can save me now No Carver or Bukowski To fill up my empty spaces As the sickness continues on Without my approval Deep inside of me As willow trees sway Like drunkards Outside of my windy window In need of massive canes To hold them Upright and steady

I lay down on the couch Swearing to myself As I withdraw from my dependence In agony But still mighty beautiful No matter what I feel like

I can always make a mirror Look good No Matter What As I file my fingers through my Greasy hair In just a robe And slippers With no newspaper to piddle on Or a pipe to fill up

Domestic monstrosity Today Alone And feeling it hard and heavy As the beasts inside of me Continue on Slicing up my innards And spitting it out Causing my lungs To fill with a funky water And I cough up Chunks of Lord only knows Into my shaking hands That were just days ago Filled with Persian breasts

It is funny how Things change so quickly When you are not looking

So, here we have the man Down for the count And wishing for the doorbell to ring Like an ambulance …To save me From this creation Deep inside of me

I just want to sleep

Yeah, I just want to sleep now So I close my Black and white eyes And let Bette Davis Swim around Dressed in a bathing suit In a fantasy that may be the only thing That can save me now

From myself And from forces Uninvited Inside of me

Leave me be!

Let me go!

Freedom!

I cry out In the dark To no one But still just me And the cracked mirror Next to the sofa That is missing the straws and powders That could Save me now

…The only thing that could Ease my misery

Drugs

Damn right

Call me Mr. Pharmacy Among the empty shelves Of my addictions Tonight In need of a fix And a slap and tickle On my ass To let me know That I have been Reborn And tiny once again

It's really all I want As the blood gurgles Throughout my temple Leaving me cold On a warm afternoon When all I really need Is sleep To save my soft ass From the misery I created For myself These past few days

Addiction… What a laugh So I smile to myself And bring the blanket up to my Chinny chin chin And drift off Finally Leaving me to float Safely Though the misty dreams Of my insanity While they continue on Chewing As I slumber Away an hour or so On the sofa…on the pillow Out of my mind Again For yet One more day

[konata-izumi-kinny-writes]

Sfw Headcanons of Dating Jack Skellington

This man is so sweet fr fr, he needs a hug 🖤

[WARNING: mentions of horror movies]

HAPPY SPOOKY MONTH, YAAAALL!!!!

🖤 boi where do i start lel

🦴 Mans is a big cuddler

🧡 like for real, hes so sweet

🦴 Lots of kisses from this big boi

🖤 Like, for real, hes the most affectionate thing out there

🦴 king of the pumpkin patch, AND romance

🧡 Will scare anyone who makes you sad or angry. And he won't scare you unless you tell him you're okay with it.

🦴 hes a huge flirt. Like, the BIGGEST flirt out there

🖤 make things for him, HE'LL LOVE IT

🦴 hell, he loves you

🧡 Jack makes the best Cider and Hot Cocoa

🦴 His favorite thing to do for a date, is getting caramel corn and going for a walk with you under all of the trees.

🖤 the sun shining through the orange, yellow, and red leaves makes for a beautiful atmosphere

🦴 yall play fetch with Zero too :3

🧡 Wear a skeleton costume :)

🦴 He will either, 1: find it funny, 2: be confused, or 3: be flustered

🖤 I have no idea why, but i headcanon that Jack can play the piano and cello. I have no idea why but it just fits imo

🦴 Sing with him :D

🧡 wait- you expect me to not headcanon a disney character to be musical??... you're insane LMFAO

🦴 Pumpkin bread with chocolate chips is one of Jack's favorite things, if you like baking, make this for him lol

🖤 If you don't live with him and in a seperate house he will walk you home every single time, doesn't matter if you live next door or not.

🦴 HE👏 WANTS👏 YOU👏 SAFE👏 AND👏 IN👏 ONE👏 PIECE👏

🧡 Speaking of which, he's pretty protective of you, but not to the point where its suffocating

🦴 So its basically canon that he knows how to sew right, thats straight up.

🖤 BUT HEAR ME OUT!!!!

🦴 he makes monster plushies with it AND NOBODY CAN CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE

🧡 Like c'mon now, how can you own a sewing machine and NOT make plushies?!?! Its UNHEARD of /j

🦴 Have autism? Or anything similar to it?? HE STIMS WITH YOU!!! (Its because he thinks its fun :3)

🦴 Annoy Jack with bone puns, his reactions are priceless 🤣

🖤 His pet names for you are, Dear, Darling, and Pumpkin

🧡 He likes horror movies, if they're too much for you to handle, thats okay. Jack can always settle for less scary movies.

🦴 His favorites are The Descent, the Saw movies, Trick r' Treat (He thinks Sam is adorable), Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark (because of the nostalgia from the books), and the Fear Street movies

🖤 If you can't handle those scary movies he'll watch mellow ones with you. Like Hocus Pocus, Spooky Buddies, Halloween Is Grinch Night, etc.

🦴 He loves animals... spooky ones.

🧡 This boi wants a Bat, Frog, Tarantula, Snake, Black Cat, or maybe another ghost dog :)

🦴 As long as its not venomous

🖤 It'd be nice for Zero to have another playmate :D

🦴 okay so, while this talks about snuggling in bed and body anatomy, this isn't in a nsfw way so bear with me here lol

🧡 While yall are snugglin, you can flick his ribs to make them sound like a xylophone. You can totally play a song 🤣

🦴 Hes totally interested in your muscles, fat, and skin

🖤 like ???? How tf are you so squishy?!

🦴 He's not complainin though, he loves you how you are <3

🧡 He has cute lil monster outfits for you, Jack lets you pick out your clothes but he just has them for you just in case :)

🦴 Okay so... lets get one thing straight (unlike me LMFAO)

🖤 As a monster, Jack doesn't need to sleep, but he does.

🦴 But this means sometimes he doesn't sleep at all and just wanders around the house at 3 A.M.

🧡 and its actually lowkey scary when you run into him at those times

🦴 He just looks way scarier than usual without even trying. And oh my gosh.

🖤 There have been MULTIPLE times where Jack accidentally scared you half to death while you were looking for a snack 🤣

🦴 When all is said and done, Jack Skellington is a really sweet dude who means well. A very loving person :)))

Thanks for Reading,

HAPP SPOOP MONTH

[kariachi]

‘What have you spent your day on so far, Achi?’ Well, I said someday I’d write the thing, so I wrote the thing.

Argit is very underweight. Nobody is having it.

~~

It all starts with a dunk in the bay. None of them want to get dunked in the bay, none of them planned for it or enjoy it, but while most of them are left freezing and uncomfortable Argit comes out of the water an absolute icicle. Kevin and Ben end up changing to higher body heat species and even when they get safely inside and dry, with both huddled up with him, it takes far too long for him to stop shivering.

The whole time Kevin has a look on his face like this is the last straw.

~~

None of them have ever been under the illusion that Argit is a healthy weight. None of them have been under the illusion that he’s a healthy anything. Kevin’s been huffing about his weight for so long they wouldn’t be surprised to find he’d been having prophetic dreams as a child about it. Getting a good look at how easily you could play his ribs like a xylophone even through the fur only serves to sink the fact more firmly into their brains. While they may have wildly varying opinions on him even Gwendolyn doesn’t like him so little as to want him to stay in that condition once the severity of it is clear. So, when Kevin declares his intention to get another sixty pounds on the bastard or die trying, pretty much everyone is ready and willing to help.

~~

When Gwendolyn finds them an article saying ‘healthy’ weight gain should top out at two pounds a week, they all settle in for a long year. When they see it also mentions getting plenty of sleep they just about give up right there.

~~

“He weighs like sixty-odd pounds soaking wet, how can he not sleep?! That should be all he can do!”

“You remember all the shit I’ve been through? Him too.”

“…fuck.”

~~

They all settle in for a long couple of years.

~~

Kevin dedicates himself wholeheartedly to the cause. It’s not as if money is something he has to worry about anymore, and he’s already partially extracted himself from the criminal underworld and turned his focus to his personal projects. Argit just becomes the highest priority one.

To that end, as soon as they have something resembling a plan he declares Sunday ‘Get Argit Set Day’. He and whoever has the time to help get together to tally up what Argit has and doesn’t have, hit up a few grocery stores, and get his food ready for the week ahead. Small meals he can reheat quickly or eat right out of the fridge. Healthy stuff consisting mostly of fruits, nuts, and vegetables, with hearty sauces, eggs, and fatty poultry.

There would be no worries about lack of easy food access.

~~

“So,” Argit says, Sunday of Week One, as he follows Kevin through Argistrix, watching him drop baskets of portioned snacks next to every spot he spends more than half an hour at a time in, “do I want to know?”

“I’m putting weight on you if it kills me,” comes the answer and Argit laughs.

“Aww, you care.” Kevin rolls his eyes, throwing a small bag of dried fruit at Argit’s head and glowering until he tears it open and starts eating.

“It’s been nearly a decade, if you’re just now figuring that out- You wanna be shocked by something, I’ve got a load of shit to go in the fridge and freezer too and Rook’s promised to come by every other day and help make sure you’re eating it.” Laughter dying out, Argit gives him a look somewhere between paranoia, insult, and the deep-seated affection everyone knows is there for at least Kevin.

“You people just have no faith in me,” he says.

“Again, nearly a decade, Hedgehog.”

~~

Argit essentially doesn’t touch any of it until after Day Four, when Kevin snatches his phone and sets an alarm for six, nine, three pm, and noon every day with the note “Eat a meal, [fuckwit/jackass/moron/etc]”.

The meals start disappearing then, but the snacks remain hardly touched.

~~

At the end of the First Month Argit has gained two pounds. Not much, but they throw a party anyway.

~~

The problem, they discover over time, is threefold.

First, while he is a stress eater- and Ben has a lot to say at first about how someone with his life who stress eats could be so skinny- it turns out that that’s about the only time he eats when left to his own devices. If you set him an alarm and make it easy, or if you put in front of him, he’ll wolf it down like nobody’s business, steal off your plate, hurt anyone who tries to take his food from him, but otherwise? He won’t even think about it unless he’s stressed or actively starving.

Second, there’s a reason for that. Argit, they come to realize, does not notice when he’s hungry. Years of neglect and Null Void living, even before he’d met Kevin, means that he’s gone hungry more often than not. By the time they’d met it was simply background noise, a constant that wasn’t worth paying any mind. Having ready access to food for the past few years has not even touched a habit built over a lifetime.

Third, as a result of going hungry more often than not, he simply can’t take eating all that much at a time. It’s not something that occurred to most of them, Kevin even had thought it a problem Argit had recovered from and fell over himself apologizing for not noticing when they all realized. The new meals are fine, all the articles had said small meal often and so they all rolled with it, but eventually, a few months in and purely by dumb chance, they learn he can’t handle the hurried, binge-like eating he does when you place a large amount of food in front of him. It comes up within the hour, not purposefully but just because his body has never learned to adapt to so much food at once.

Taking this new information into account, they set up a schedule to text him and specifically ask if he’s hungry, in hopes it’ll get him paying attention.

~~

The snack supply does begin to drop a little, to everyone’s great relief.

~~

There’s concern, at first, about building muscle over fat. He needs fat, they know this and have all looked at enough examples of healthy members of his species to understand, but it’s a hard thought-line to break. Even when they do manage to break themselves free of the ‘fat is unhealthy’ mindset, making sure he’s building enough muscle to carry said fat around is still a priority that’s discussed often and in depth. Ideas are thrown left, right, and center for how to get him exercising and keep him doing so, with no agreements made. It’s not until the end of the Third Month that they begin seeing some behavior changes and realize two things.

One: Argit still has that strong Erinaen need to climb and be up high.

Two: He simply hasn’t had the energy to do so.

Immediately they set to making sure he gets out of the office and just wandering about at least a few times a week, and let instinct take it from there.

~~

After four months, he’s gained ten pounds, one above the average guess.

They throw another party.

~~

Over time Argit keeps steadily putting on pounds, and it eases a tension most of them hadn’t even realized they’d been feeling for so long. He begins being more energetic, his attitude improves, and slowly yet surely they start being able to see how he’s filling out.

~~

By the end of Month Ten he’s gained twenty-eight pounds and looks like an actual person rather than a particularly fuzzy Halloween decoration. His winter coat tries to grow in for the first time in, as far as he knows, his life. He’s starting to go and wander about of his own volition, just to do so.

He looks, to the human eye at least, to be an acceptable, even ideal, weight, but they all beat back the urge to call it a job done. They’ve all seen what a healthy Erinaen should look like by this point and refuse to stop until Argit is, to quote Alan, “the fuzziest butterball on this planet”.

~~

‘u hungry?’

‘im good’

‘u sure?’

‘yeah’ ‘just ate a couple minutes ago’

‘good!’ ‘proud of you man’

~~

“Holy shit.” Doing his damnedest not to purr, Argit instead forces it into a huff and a glower.

“Seriously?” Manny doesn’t even pause in rubbing his fingers gently over Argit’s good ear.

“Is this what your fur is supposed to be like? It’s a crime it was ever so patchy.”

“Agreed,” Argit said, rolling his eyes and turning his head as much as he can without breaking contact to where what is supposed to be his bestfriend is laughing. “Will you come get him before he has to die?”

“Nah, you’re enjoying it.”

“Bastard.”

~~

“‘How did you not notice’,” Gwendolyn mutters as she helps Argit take his new measurements and do the math to figure out what size clothes he’s going to have to have made. “‘If this guy weighed less than some hams how did you not notice for nearly five years?’ Because of this! Because you wear clothes so oversized you need to gain forty pounds before you start planning a new set!”

“Well, ya know, Red,” he says with a snicker, “they do say it’s easier to shop a size up.”

The pencil that gets thrown at his head is easily dodged. The bag of pistachios, not so much.

~~

Month Seventeen, nearly a year and a half since Kevin and with him everybody else decided they were done, the whole lot wait with bated breath as Argit steps onto the scale. His eyes are bright, skin no longer thin, fur thick and soft, self wonderfully round, and he had been so close four Saturdays ago…

The room is quiet.

Helen kneels to check the reading.

She comes up with a grin.

“One-hundred-twenty-three pounds and twelve ounces!”

Everything explodes in a combination of cheers and relieved sighs. Off to the side Cooper crows something about “Good enough for government work”. It isn’t quite the sixty pounds they’d planned on, but it’s really damn close. Kevin yanks Argit from the scale and into a hug as Alan reaches over to tug at his ear affectionately.

“You’re still gonna keep up eating, by the way.”

“If you lose so much as an ounce, we’re locking you in a basement for your own good.” Chuckling, Argit let’s himself relax with a purr.

“Whatever you guys say,” he says. “If you really meant it you’d break out that cake though.”

~~

Five-hundred and thirty days, nearly a year and a half, after the dunk in the bay, Argit officially hits fifty-eight pounds and five ounces gained, with promises all around to make sure he keeps the weight on.

They throw the biggest party over it.

[sir-subpar]

Samwell Lore Post!

Below the cut!

Samwell is Pansexual

I have kind of a headcanon voice for him: I imagine he has a slight southern accent

He's 28 years old

He's the second tallest out of the main cast, over 6ft tall.

Samwell's rib bones aren't his clothes, they're part of his actual body. He can move them, they can retract into his body, and he can open them, which kind of exposes his torso a bit, so it's not his favorite.

Samwell is, as you know, a scarecrow! But he isn't entirely fabric and straw- he actually has some blood, bones, and other anatomical insides. No one's quite sure how he was brought to life.

In this world, scarecrows are common, but sentient ones like Samwell? With (some) anatomy? Not common.

Samuel's anatomy and overall sentience fascinates Dr Damus. He wants to study Samwell, but Sam doesn't like the fact Dr Damus asks so many personal questions about his anatomy. He finds Dr Damus unsettling. 

His ribs are ticklish ;) play em like a xylophone! He'll die laughing.

He has teeth. A surprising amount of teeth. 

He has a spine.

He actually has a last name, it's Proctor. Samwell Proctor.

Samwell, despite his soft appearance and voice, is actually really strong. He was designed to be the protector and caretaker of the farm, so he was given a lot of strength.

He could break someone's upper arm by punching it

Samwell can eat, but he has no necessity for it. He doesn't need food or water to survive, so he doesn't eat often. He only really needs to sleep occasionally and he's all good.

That purple part of his face is actually stitched on, as you can tell. He hurt his face years back, real bad. Patches like that are basically the Scarecrow equivalent of having scars. He has a lot of them on his body, he's been in some nasty fights.

He has a shotgun.

Before he learned how to properly control his strength, he tried to give someone a handshake... he broke their hand. (It was accidental, of course.)

His creator died years ago, so he lives alone on the farm. It gets lonely out there.

Having Y/N with him, getting to share the farm with someone he loves- priceless!

He's kind of a hopeless romantic.

He's one of those people who doesn't really like to swear, and so he says random food things instead of swearing, like "sugar honey iced tea", or "sweet hickory ham!" Either he'll do that, or he'll say one of those old-school "swears" that barely mean anything nowadays like "Gadzooks" or "Balderdash" 

I mentioned before that Sinthia pranked him by enchanting part of the farm to grow nothing but zucchini. It always grows no matter what. At first, Samwell was just confused, but didn't mind it so much. He just occasionally thought "I don't remember planting zucchini," and shrugged it off. After a while though he started getting sick of zucchini, so he stopped watering it and hoped it would just wilt. It didn't. No matter how little he cared for it, it always grew.

Over time, he got so done with it, he just went out there and ripped all the plants out by the roots with his bare hands. It took him hours. The next day, he woke up and went outside, and saw that all the zucchini Plants had grown back good as new. 

Now he just harvests those zucchini, and leaves crates of them on people's porches every morning. (It's actually how he meets Y/N) 

~How about some Samwell x Y/N stuff?~

Since I already started talking about the zucchini stuff, here's how he'd meet Y/N:

Y/N has just moved into town, they're finally settling in their new house. Early in the morning, to hear something on their porch. Terrified by this possible intruder, they grab something for self defense, and throw up in the front door- bracing themself for a fight! Only to see a farmer crouched on their front steps with a wooden box. Startled, he freezes, looking at Y/N wide-eyed. He awkwardly sets the box down, and backs away slowly. Once he reaches the sidewalk, he books it. Running away.

As I've mentioned, Samwell was made to work and care for others. Because of this, he's not accustomed to others taking care of him and he doesn't do much besides work. He's internalized this belief that it's silly for others to care for him, and that he has to be productive. Thanks to this, he doesn't really have many hobbies, and he's hard on himself if he's not being productive. If Y/N can get him to relax, kudos to them! Helping him find and explore new interests and hobbies, awesome!

He's never been in a romantic relationship before Y/N, but he's always wanted a family. The closest thing to family he had was his creators, and they were more like bosses to him. He longs for connection.

As Y/N will learn, Samwell is actually pretty affectionate once they're together. He loves to do nose nuzzles!

He can carry Y/N on his shoulder. He absolutely spoils Y/N if they let him. He's not good about being spoiled though. He doesn't know how to handle someone caring for him. He doesn't see himself as deserving of spoilage. 

Kissing him might be tricky with his mouth stitches, but Y/N is welcome to try.

He's always had to be strong, always had to keep his pain to himself. He has trauma he's never really addressed. (You know that thing where a character doesn't realize they're crying until they touch their cheek and see it's damp? And then they just… break? That's him.)

He's not used to someone comforting him, so finally having a shoulder to cry on for the first time in his life, someone who won't judge him for being vulnerable, someone who just… loves him? Best thing he could ask for.

As Samwell and Y/N's relationship develops, they'll discover what kind of things they like, affection wise. (He didn't know this until this point, but he likes it when someone holds his face/head. Caressing his cheek, lightly moving his hair out of the way… and if he really trusts them, he'll let them touch his stitches/patches/scars)

If Y/N has hair or fur, he likes to run his fingers through it.

He likes… for lack of a better term, belly rubs. He finds it relaxing when someone rubs circles on his stomach (and chest).

He is 100% willing to give his significant other massages. ( Thanks to his strength, he can really work out knots in muscles)

Hugs. Yes. He never hugs people with his full strength, because that would literally crush most people to death, and he doesn't like to hurt people unless it's necessary. You can hug him as tight as you want though. He can take it.

He can be protective, but he's not a jealous person. He understands that Y/N has a life outside of spending time with him (like a normal person)

If Y/N is stronger than him, then he won't lie, he thinks it's kinda hot.

If Y/N holds him in a bridal style? Oh he will MELT. He's strong, but not really dominating, personality-wise.

He's easily flustered. Flirting with him turns him into a stuttering, giggling, mess. 

That's all for now. Any questions? Ask away!

[3rdgymbros]

— title; when is a monster not a monster? (oh, when you love it).

— pairing; zhongli x reader

— summary; in which zhongli loses control and turns into a dragon, but you manage to bring him back.

— notes; i don’t play genshin, so i hope it’s not too ooc !! special thanks to @yuebloom​ and​ @degenerate-yandere and @teyvatstories​ for their support !! if anyone is interested, the song referenced in this fic is called asking the zither and can be found here !!

Screaming.

The sound that sears itself into your ears is like nothing you've never heard before, the hoarse scream of an enraged animal that vibrates through your whole body, scraping over your skin like claws.

With much effort, you finally manage to open your eyes. It's excruciating. Your eyelids feel like they're made of lead. Squinting against the sudden light, you try to sit up, but can only groan as your body erupts into joint-wrenching pains. Your face is wet, and dampness runs down into your collar.

"Ow." You say; at least, that's what you try to say. It comes out as more of an indistinct moan. You have to resist the urge to sink back into that suffocating blackness, somewhere far away, where the pain can't reach you. "Where –"

Another scream. Closer this time. Sounding almost human. Wearily, you raise your head, push yourself onto hands and knees; there’s pain in each of your ribs, one by one, like a xylophone breaking as it plays.

Wind rips at your robes and branches fly by. Dirt and bits of grass are rising and dancing chaotically as though enchanted. Trees fall with a shudder that shakes the earth. A deafening roar sounds above your head, and you look up, amazed, to see a dragon, his silhouette dark against the sun. His scales are a dark, burnished shade of brown, his eyes and horns and spinal plates a bright, vivid amber. The dragon throws back his head and screams, blowing out golden flames with his next exhale.

Even as far away as you are, you can still feel the searing heat, washing over your face, and bringing with it memories, roaring through your mind with vicious velocity.  You remember falling to the ground in a bloodied heap, burgundy poison staining your robes. You remember hearing an awful, strangled cry from Rex Lapis, as though he had been the one in pain. And then – nothing.

Staring at the dragon's familiar amber eyes, it isn't so hard to surmise what had happened, how things had taken the worst possible turn.

Now, as a dragon, Rex Lapis has single-handedly managed to turn the tides of battle. Archons and humans alike are turning and fleeing, a mass exodus intent on escaping from this unstoppable force of nature. The dragon lands on the scorched earth, unleashing flames and teeth and claws. You watch his head crane around at the end of that long serpentine neck, watch as his tail lashes sideways and catches a man making his escape, breaking him in two. You have to choke back the urge to vomit, swallowing back your own fear. Blood, and sticky smoke clings to you.

“Rex Lapis!” You scream, unsure if he can hear you. “REX LAPIS!”

His head turns. Smoke rises between his teeth. He sweeps his tail again, sending up a choking storm of dust and sand. You stumble into the cloud of darkness and smoke with a cough. He snaps, flashing razor sharp teeth and claws. The black teeth close inches away from your face.

No, you want to say. Not me, no, no, don't you remember me?

Your chest constricts tightly, practically squeezing your throat shut with panic. The sand is in your eyes now. Stinging, blinding, filling them with tears. Stumbling back, you tumble to the ground once again. Your back and head absorb the brunt of the landing. Warmth drips down your cheeks. You aren't sure if it’s blood, sweat, tears, or a mixture of all three fluids.

Rex Lapis roars, a sound of fury, daring anyone to challenge him. The sound fills your ears. A furnace wind engulfs you. The dragon’s long scaled neck stretches out towards you. His eyes are molten. Panic shivers up your spine. Your mouth is dry, no matter how often you swallow, but you can't – don't dare to – look away.

For the first time in your life, you're scared of Rex Lapis.

He's known to all as the God of War, and you've lost count of the number of times he's personally brought his enemies to their end, but he's always treated you with a guarded tenderness, and you've never felt anything but safe in his presence, as though nothing else in the world had existed but you and him.

Now, Rex Lapis roars full in your face, his breath hot enough to blister skin.

"Rex Lapis." You choke out, barely able to catch your breath. Ash and cinders scorch your throat. “Rex Lapis. It’s [ NAME ]. You remember me, right?”

In the smoldering pits of his eyes, you can see your own reflection. How small you look, how weak and frail and scared. Rex Lapis is looking at you, but he isn’t seeing you. As if sensing danger, your skin prickles, power calling to you. It buzzes through your heart and mind. You imagine vines and thorns erupting from the ground, the green tendrils consuming everyone and everything in their path. For an instant, you think about ending the battle. Enough blood has been shed. You're tired of fighting. You could do it; it would even be easy. But then you look into those eyes, lakes of molten gold, and a lead weight settles upon your shoulders. Your heart gives up, exploding, bursting like a balloon.

Not on him, you think. You can't hurt him. Not when he’s like this; scared, in pain, reeling.

Rex Lapis roars again, the sound full of fear and fury, full of pain. His teeth snap at you, inches away from your face.

“REX LAPIS!”

The dragon jerks his head back.

“Stop!”

Behind a fence of sharp black teeth you glimpse a furnace glow, the shimmer of a sleeping fire. Wisps of smoke spiral upward from the dragon’s nostrils. You can barely see through your tears, but you stare at Rex Lapis until he meets your gaze again. Your legs are quivering, but you fear that if you turn and run now, he truly will be lost to you.

“It’s okay. Rex Lapis, it’s okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you, so please –” You can't finish as your voice breaks, and you're reduced to coughing, trying to clear the sobs caught in your throat. You've expected the terror to abate at your words, or your heart to stop shattering, but it doesn't. It just makes it worse. "Please –"

Please come back.

Come back to me.

His long serpentine neck bends like an archer’s bow, preparing to rain down hellfire again. You swallow past the fear, past the lump of waterworks wedged deep in your throat.

"I used to sing to you. In the gardens, in the afternoons. When you were taking your tea." You say, quietly, quietly, even as something in the pit of your stomach falls away. "Do you remember?"

The dragon looks at you, his gaze lingering for the span of three long heartbeats. You think you see a flicker of awareness. Brief, but it's there.

It feels as though all the air has been squeezed out of your lungs, but still, you sing. You owe it to him, to this god who extended his hand to you in friendship, who offered you warmth and companionship and protection, a home to call your own. Your voice is soft, softer than you've ever heard it.

The night is tender, cold springs ripple. Memories surface in my reflections. I play a song, you smile once more in my dreams.

The words are like a silk shawl, light and cool. You can smell wild roses, fresh-cut hay, bonfires. Grass springs up between your toes, and the earth warms beneath the soles of your feet.

Yours is the only voice that you can hear, the shouts and screams and the world falling away into nothing. Nothing exists except for this, except for your song, the rawness of your throat, pushing the words and a shaky melody out into the still, warm air.

And the dragon listens.

He bends his dark head, and with a last hiss, coils himself around your body like a great serpent, resting his head upon your lap. You can feel him relax, feel him sinking into the earth and into you. His scales are hot to the touch, like armor left too long in the sun.

Still, you continue singing, gentle and reassuring as your hands stroke over his scales, tracing the ragged grooves of his horns. You wish for your touch to be enough, for your voice to bring him back. The dragon slips away from you with a deep exhalation.

You're still holding him close, until long after the sun sets, when the glossy dark scales have melted away, and Rex Lapis lies upon your lap, a man once more.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Masterpost 9

GENERAL ASKS

Skeleton snaps at S/O after a bad day (UT Sans, UF Sans, UF Papyrus, SF Sans, SF Papyrus, MT Sans)

S/O's best friend confesses their love to them (All skeletons)

S/O gives agressive compliments (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O is projecting their dreams (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O kisses Skeleton uncontrolably in the neck (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

Skeletons and knoting/crochet (US Papyrus, HT Papyrus, HS Papyrus, SF Sans, MF Papyrus)

S/O makes some Filipano food for skellyboy (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O asks for help to get back in shape (UT Papyrus, US Sans, DaT Sans, DaT Papyrus, DF Papyrus, MT Papyrus, MF Sans)

What if I was the S/O (All skeletons)

S/O boops the skeleton (All skeletons)

S/O has a diet lazy eye (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans and Papyrus)

How Pumpkin says "I love you" (HS Papyrus)

How Oak became a security guard during a visit to a mall (HT Sans)

Red's first Gyftmas (UF Sans & Papyrus)

How Grillby met Sans and Papyrus (UT Grillby, Sans, Papyrus)

Rus insulted the Queen right in front of the Queen (SF Sans & Papyrus)

Nox teaches Rus how to cook so he doesn't embarrass himself in front of his S/O (SF Sans & Papyrus)

Edge takes care of his Undyne after she killed Asgore (UF Papyrus & Undyne)

S/O tells Papyrus that Sans tied them up (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Papyrus)

Random men try to kidnap S/O's dog while S/O and Skellyman are having a walk (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus, HS Papyrus, DaT Sans, MF Sans)

S/O plays xylophone on their skeleton's ribs (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O loves theorising about how humans and skeletons are related (UT Sans, UT Gaster, UF Sans, OT Sans)

S/O is a mob boss and didn't tell Skellyman before he gets hurt (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O loves to sing but is insecure about this (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

Skellyman thought S/O was dead in their sleep but they are fine actually (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O has a boner (All skeletons)

A Kelpie tries to kill UT characters but it all goes wrong (UT characters)

S/O is helplessly in love with skeleton (US, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O can control thunder (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

Skeleton can have a new power (All skeletons)

S/O dies and comes back as a skeleton monster (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O cries and confess they are in love with skeleton (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

Skeleton's kid is having a mental breakdown while doing homework (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O feels insecure about their thick accent (UF Sans, HF Sans, HS Papyrus, SF Sans, FT Sans, MT Sans, MF Sans, MF Papyrus)

Skeleton's brother is badly injured (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O's sibling keeps coming home with wild animals (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O is very easy to please (UT, US, UF, HT, FT Sans & Papyrus)

Skelly witnesses someone getting molested in public (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O is very forgetful but not when it concerns skeleton (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

Random headcanons about the Horrortale brothers (HT Sans & Papyrus)

S/O can turn into a dragon (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

Skeleton's kid wants to be a forest goblin (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O and UT characters are having a day at the park (UT characters)

S/O tries to convince skeleton to watch cartoons with them (US Sans & Papyrus)

S/O has morbid thoughts (UT, UF, HT Sans & Papyrus)

Skeleton's kid is controlled like Frisk (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O screams to relax (US Sans & Papyrus)

Skeleton's brother flats out asleep after coming home (UT, US, UF, HT, SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O wants to play tag, you're it (US Sans & Papyrus)

S/O forgives skeleton for killing their sibling Underground (UT Sans, US Sans, US Papyrus, HT Sans, HT Papyrus, SF Sans, SF Papyrus)

OTHER THINGS

Some more incorrect quotes

A badass Papyrus moment

Grillby wants Sans head

MYFANWI TALKS

Christmas gifts

Happy New Year 2022

In loving memory of my hard work the two first weeks of january

My dog is 18 years old

I had cool students in 2020

MYFANWI ASKS

S/O has medusa powers and transformed skeleton's brother into a statue

S/O wraps themselves as a gift and got stucked

Skeleton's kid wants to take a photo with Santa and then cries

[vannahfanfics]

Picture Perfect

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Sen Kaibara, Setsuna Tokage

Hello, everybody! I am super stoked to present my story for the @class-b-abuzz-bang! I had the pleasure of working again with my talented friend @danyartime​, so be sure to check out their super beautiful and cute art for the story!

The smudge of ruby-red gradually came into focus as Sen twisted the dial on his camera, revealing a blooming rose nestled among the spiny branches of a rose bush. Its soft, silken petals glistened with dewdrops from the early morning rain. The little beads caught the sunlight to shine like crystal-clear gems on the red petals, their iridescent sheen glinting even through the lens. 

Sen kept his hands steady as he fine-tuned the focus until he was satisfied; then, with a simple press, he clicked the shutter and captured the image. 

He straightened up with a small sigh, letting the camera flop down against his chest while the thick leather strap around his neck kept it from falling. He tilted his head back to squint at the sun, which shone brightly in the azure sky amidst the white, cottony clouds. It was a lovely Saturday morning, still slightly cool with the lingering chill of the night. Sen was making his weekly rounds of the campus to practice his photography. 

Sen had always liked cameras and had dabbled in photography in middle school. Once he arrived at U.A., he thought that homework and hero training would dominate much of his time. However, after Midnight had given them a lecture about the importance of maintaining a hobby to promote mental well-being, he’d picked up his camera again and taken to wandering the campus on the weekend. There were more things to capture than he’d anticipated, so he now had a large collection of candids taped to his dorm room wall and was adding more every week. 

He picked up his camera to inspect the photograph of the rose, scrutinizing it for any imperfections. A smile slowly bloomed on his lips as he realized it was a quite pretty photograph indeed— definitely one he intended to print later. As he mulled about on the sidewalk, wondering where he should look next, he heard the glass doors of the dormitory open. 

He glanced over his shoulder to see Setsuna trotting out onto the porch, and his heart thumped against his ribcage. 

She didn’t notice him standing there at first, giving him an opportunity to unabashedly admire her. She walked out into the sunshine, closing her eyes and tipping back her head to let the warm rays fall upon her face and thread into her dark green-black hair. She wore a sleeveless white dress that hugged her figure and stopped a little above her knees. A golden belt looped around her waist, and shiny white boots enclosed her feet. A golden necklace with a lizard charm hung around her neck. Sen had always thought that Setsuna had impeccable fashion sense, in addition to being stunningly gorgeous. His fingers itched to hit the shutter and snap as many photographs of her as he could. 

Of all the things he’d ever wished to immortalize in a picture, Setsuna Tokage was perhaps the greatest. 

After soaking up the sun rays for several moments, Setsuna opened her eyes and finally noticed him standing in the garden in front of the dormitory. His body had grown slack with dreamly laxity while he’d gazed at her, but he tensed tight when a grin split her face. She cheerily called, “Morning, Sen!” 

“Good morning, Setsuna,” he replied. She hopped down the steps and trotted toward him. He hoped the heat on his cheeks was from the intense spring sun and not a blush rising to the surface. She stopped in front of him and immediately looked down at his camera, and then her eyes widened in curiosity. 

“Oh, are you out and about taking pictures? Do you have any good ones?” 

Sen nodded and lifted the camera, turning it around so she could see the display screen on the back. She pressed up against his side to look over his shoulder, and he felt his face blaze with heat as her hair, still damp and smelling of her dewberry shampoo, brushed over his neck. He could hear her breathing in his ear; every inhale and exhale made him dizzier and dizzier. Somehow, he managed to retain enough control of his body to cycle through the photographs he’d taken that morning. 

The first was of the sunrise. He’d climbed to the roof of the dormitory to catch the hemisphere of white emerging over the horizon, the blue curtain of night rising to reveal a flood of red-orange. It had been cloudy that morning, so the sunbeams had caught on the clouds to stretch in white lines across the sky. “Wow… That’s beautiful,” Setsuna praised. 

“Yeah.” Except, he wasn’t looking at the photograph of the dawn. 

The next photograph was of a squirrel sitting on the roots of the oak tree next to the dormitory. It rested on the gnarled chunk of root that rose from the loamy soil like a sea serpent. Its little paws clutched an acorn, holding it to its little snout while it scored its long front teeth across the surface to try to break through the hard shell. Its fluffy, long tail curled over its back like a plume of wispy brown-gray smoke. Setsuna giggled, “It’s so cute.” 

“Yeah.” Except, he wasn’t looking at the photograph of the squirrel. 

He showed her the photograph of the rose next. She inhaled sharply with awe, then leaned more over his shoulder to peer closer at the screen. His face darkened as more of her body pressed against him, but she was too enraptured by the beautiful bloom bursting in colorful pixels on the screen to notice. Her eyes sparkled as she murmured, “Amazing…” 

“Yeah.” Except, he wasn’t looking at the photograph of the rose. 

Sen lowered his camera back down when she pulled away, though he lamented the loss of her body heat along his side. She smiled radiantly at him. Sen felt his heart start playing his rib cage like a xylophone, and he lowered his face to fiddle with his camera so she couldn’t see the haze of red staining his cheeks. 

“Wow, Sen! I never knew you were so talented!” she gushed. He mumbled some sort of gratuitous remark in response. “What are you going to take pictures of next?” 

Sen felt a lump form instantly in his throat. He peered through his bangs at her, watching, measuring. He’d always wanted to photograph Setsuna, and here she was, so interested in his hobby. Would she agree to a small photoshoot? He didn’t want to bother her or creep her out, but… Holy cow, Sen had never seen someone that was more a work of art than her, and he was gripped with such an intense desire to see her through his photo lens that it was almost suffocating. 

He swallowed several times, but that lump in his throat just bobbed in place. Somehow, he managed to force the words out around it: “I’d like to photograph you, Setsuna.” 

Her eyes blew wide, two dark moons floating in a sea of white. She pointed at herself and squeaked out, “M-me?” 

When he nodded, a bright flush of pink rushed into her cheeks, and a shy smile teased at her lips. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other while her eyes rolled up to the corners, unable to look Sen in the eye at the realization he wanted her to be his muse. He waited patiently for her to answer, despite his stomach twisting in his belly, until she uttered a meek, “O-Okay…” 

Sen couldn’t help the giddy smile that tugged at his lips and the light that lit up his eyes. 

“Okay,” he echoed, and the happiness that bled into his voice made Setsuna smile bashfully. He held out his hand for her, and when Setsuna coyly slipped her fingers into his, it felt like electric shocks rocketed up his nerves. He wanted to jump for joy, but he had to remain professional. He forced down his elation to focus on the task at hand— capturing Setsuna in all her goddess-like glory. Smiling softly, he tugged her down the sidewalk, walking backward while he led the bashful girl by the hand. 

As he walked, he glanced around the garden to find some suitable settings. He couldn’t just photograph Setsuna in any old setting, no, no— it had to be something truly magnificent, fitting of his image of an angel fallen to earth. He thought of her standing on the porch, her head tipped back to soak up the warmth of the sun, and at the same time his eyes fell upon a patch of wild dandelions growing in a patch of empty green grass. Perfect. 

“Here,” he said and pulled her off the sidewalk and into the grass. He treaded carefully, trying to disturb as few of the dandelions as he could. It wouldn’t be much of a backdrop if he kicked all their floaty little seeds to the wind before he could get started, now would it? Setsuna milled about next to him, her cheeks stained as pink as carnations, while Sen stared at the small patch of wildflowers and mumbled under his breath. A vision took shape in his mind, one that made him as floaty as the dandelion seeds. 

He directed Setsuna to sit among the dandelions in the clearest patch they could find. She eased down into the dewy grass, tucking her legs against her side. Her right hand rested on her thigh, while the other pushed into the loamy dirt, supporting her weight. She tossed her tresses of dark green hair over her shoulder, and there was so much magic in that simple movement that Sen’s mind momentarily went black. He just gawked at her, wide-eyed, until Setsuna bashfully said, “Sen? Is this good?” 

“O-oh,” he stammered, flushing. “Yeah, that’s good.” He crouched down a few feet away from her and picked up his camera, then peered through the lens. He tried to keep his hands from shaking— it would ruin his shot— but it was so hard with the way she smiled sweetly at him through the camera lens, her head tilted just so to give her a demure demeanor. Her eyes were lidded as she rested contentedly amongst the dandelions. Sen waited until the wind whistled across the grass, bobbing the dandelions and fluttering her hair, before clicking the shutter in quick succession. 

While he lowered the camera to choose which of the set he believed to be the best, Setsuna turned to watch a few of the dandelion seeds float away on the breeze. As a serene smile graced her lips, Sen snuck a candid photo. Unfortunately, the click of the shutter betrayed him, and she rolled her head on her shoulders to smirk at him in amusement. 

“I feel like a model,” she laughed. “I never thought I would be a part of a photoshoot.” 

Sen blushed, using the bulk of his camera to hide his face. 

“Well…” he mumbled, deleting the photos he didn’t intend to keep so he didn’t have to look directly at her. “Hopefully my photos live up to your expectations.” 

“I know they will,” she hummed with so much conviction that it made Sen’s heart flutter. While waiting on him, she picked up one of the dandelions and gently blew on it. Sen scrambled to back out of his photos so he could snap a picture of her slightly parted lips blowing into the seeds, dislodging them into the breeze. They bobbed around her hair, some of them settling into the waves of dark green like little snowflakes. Suddenly, Setsuna laughed and flopped backward into the patch, slamming her arms down to send hundreds of the little seeds spiralling into the air. 

Sen hopped to his feet, but he didn’t pick up his camera. He just stared in adoration at the beautiful sight before him. Setsuna’s hair spread around her head like a dark halo, threaded with grass blades and dandelion seeds. She gazed reverently at the seeds spinning above her body; with no wind to catch them, they slowly swirled down, down, down to settle on her form. Her eyes drifted to Sen, who was gaping at her like she was the most sublime creature on earth. A tinge of pink appeared on her cheeks as she asked, “What? No more photos?” 

He played with the thick black strap of his camera as he stiffly said, “Some things a photo can’t even do justice.” 

She tilted her head slightly at that, eyebrows creasing in just the barest hint of amusement. Sen took a deep breath, preparing himself for the crazy thing he was about to do; then, he pulled his camera off from around his neck and set it down amongst the grass. Setsuna just watched him as he walked to where she lay in the grass, her chest rising and falling with rapidly-quickening breaths and a knowing smile spreading over her lips. 

“Is that so?” she breathed when he knelt down next to her, on her left side. Surrounded by the grasses, Sen could see the hidden rivers of emerald shining in her eyes and her hair. Even with the most expensive camera equipment, he could never capture those streams concealed within the dark of her hair and eyes; they were immortal only in Sen’s memory. 

“Yeah,” he answered, his voice just as breathy. “A photo could never do you justice, Setsuna. Not in my eyes.” 

A shy smile played over her mouth, and then she quickly swiped her tongue over her lips to wet them. This action did not go unnoticed by Sen; it made his heartbeat quicken and adrenaline surge through his veins. Setsuna’s hand snuck through the grass like a lithe snake, latching onto his. He didn’t resist as she guided him to crawl over her body, knees resting next to her hips, hands on either side of her head. 

“Then why ask me to do a photoshoot for you?” she asked teasingly. 

“It’s a good excuse to be able to look at you longer,” he answered matter-of-factly. Her face flushed red as her flirtatious taunt was turned so effortlessly back to her, and this made Sen’s mouth curl up into a smirk. “Besides, even if a picture can’t do you justice, I’d still like to have them. You’re beautiful, even through a camera lens.” 

He brushed his fingers gently over the cascade of hair framing her face, teasing through the strands and dislodging the dandelion seeds. The way she was looking at him, the fire smoldering in the depths of her eyes, emboldened him. His fingers slowly shifted to skim over her cheek, feeling the heat that rose to the surface in response to his touch. He brushed down the curve of her jaw until he met her chin, and then he turned his hand to place his thumb just under her mouth, tugging down to part her lips ever-so-slightly. 

“May I kiss you, Setsuna?” 

“Please,” she whispered, literally agonized by the fact he wasn’t kissing her already. This made Sen chuckle, but he didn’t want to keep the lady waiting. He dropped down onto his elbows to bring his face centimeters away from hers. She craned her head slightly with a low, needy whine, bumping her nose softly against his with the motion. Sen chuckled again, then tilted his head so he could close the gap and slot his lips against hers. 

Truth be told, Sen had thought about kissing Setsuna many times. Still, all his daydreams could never prepare him for how it really felt to have her lips melding with his. It felt like his heart exploded in his chest, filling him to the brim with a cloudy, floaty feeling from the crown of his head to the very tips of his toes. Sen pressed his body down against hers slightly, grounding himself because it really did feel like he was going to float away, just like those dandelion seeds. 

Setsuna hummed against his lips as he moved his mouth over hers, kissing her with a growing hunger. She just felt so good, tasted so sweet, and that scent of her dewberry shampoo was flooding his nose again. He kissed her until his mind was growing fuzzy with oxygen deprivation instead, then pulled back with a deep intake of air. Setsuna’s eyes fluttered open to look at him reverently, like he’d just hung the moon in the sky for her. Damn it, Sen would if that’s what it took to see that look on her face every single day. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered again. His voice cracked with the sheer amount of worship he put into the statement. Setsuna shyly bit down on her bottom lip, but the twinkle in her eyes intensified. Unable to help himself, he leaned down again to kiss her nose, each of her cheeks, and then her lips again. Setsuna giggled at the soft, feathery kisses brushing over her skin, and the sound was music to Sen’s ears. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she joked cheekily. Sen rolled his eyes, but wasn’t exactly surprised at her impudence. Her overwhelming confidence was one of the many, many things he adored about her. He nosed along her jaw as he smiled softly down at her, making her squirm and giggle. She wound her arms around her neck, indicating that she had no care to go anywhere anytime soon. The wind rustled the grasses around them, dusting Sen in a few of the dandelion seeds. 

No, a picture really couldn’t do her justice at all, Sen thought as he gazed down at Setsuna. She crossed her eyes as a dandelion seed drifted across her nose, then playfully blew it into Sen’s face. The little feathery fibers of the seed tickled his cheek as his lips teased up into a loving smile. A picture was worth a thousand words, many people said— but as they gazed into one another’s eyes, a million words passed between them that a picture couldn’t even hope to capture.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, MHA 296, Replies Part 2

1) “like jesus fuck man

what can I even say about it

the action and excitement of the fight against evil already went away, now it’s the cold and brutal reality of what the villains caused, and what they will continue to cause

this is not the most hellish moment in the story of their country. Just the most hellish momentso far.”- And this was but a mere glimpse of the kind of anarchy and terror that ravaged the lands back in AFO’s heyday. The clock has turned back, the lord of evil has risen anew, and the world is reverting back to the chaotic era wherein he ruled from the shadows, unseen, yet omnipresent in each act of evil and devastation witnessed.

(MHA ch 240)

2) “Definitely greater. There are few heroes that would be able to measure up to him right now, even while working together. And besides that, all those people are willing to kill and die on his name, the heroes can’t do anything without spilling a lot of blood, on both sides.”- Given how much blood and death the heroes have been forced to produce in an effort to stop Tomura and the league, only to have their efforts come to naught in the end, I can’t help but be reminded of nitetzsche’s abyss quote. At this point, what’s the difference between the heroes and the villains beyond the fact that one side wants to stop this before it leads to further tragedy, and the other is enraged and desperately fighting back against the enforcers of the oppressive system that led to them joining this revolution in the first place? Neither side is wholly wrong in their desires, but at the same time, neither one is fully correct with each wanting different versions of the status quo in effect. (MHA ch 257) 3) “EXCUSE ME?

EXCUSE ME WHAT- WHAT WAS THAT? WHAT HAPPENED?

HOLY FUCK THIS DOESN`T SOUND GOOD

THIS ABSOLUTELY DOESN`T SOUND GOOD

OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK”- Whilst this initially seemed to be about the heroes’ mass disappearance to catch the PLF off-guard, it could also be taken symbolically as well. ‘That day, the image of heroes vanished from the city, as they witnessed destruction and chaos nobody could avert’. 4) “that was… fucked up. So fucked up. The absolute devastation and the overwhelming horror at the face of it all, so much that the only thing he could say was that he was not cut for it.

this will fuck me up for a while.”- Underneath it all, a hero is still a human being, and what can a human do about this situation but realise their limitations? 5) “…

wait

wait wh-

WAIT

WAIT WHAT WAS THAT PANEL LAST PAGE”- That…was the main characters suffering their first personal loss. Just because they knew people in their social circles, it didn’t mean they had any kind of plot armour protecting them. Aizawa survived getting mangled as badly as he did through his own rationality and skills, but Midnight, was not as lucky. 6) “FUCK THAT HORIKOSHI YOU BETTER NOT HAVE FUCKING KILLED MIDNIGHT OR I WILL REMOVE YOUR FEMUR AND USE IT TO PLAY XYLOPHONE WITH YOUR RIB CAGE”- And so Horikoshi addresses the “deus ex machina” of Tomura’s survival – it wasn’t truly any external force that revived him, but the mysterious willpower of humanity that enables you to break through your limits and pull off immense feats, which Quirks at times seem to be tapped into. For all the factors in the battle they could control, the heroes couldn’t understand or restrain the all-consuming destructive impulses that lurk in Tomura’s heart, driving him forwards beyond all logic and reasoning. (MHA ch 269) 7) “OH GOD I THINK MIC ACTUALLY GOT HIM ON TIME

HE WASN`T ZAPPED, HE`S STILL DOWN

NOW, AS LONG AS WE CAN KEEP KAMINARI OR ANY NOMU WITH ELECTRIC POWERS AWAY FROM HIM, EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE.”- In the end, it wouldn’t even have mattered. By the narrative’s own admission, the electric shock didn’t even really revive him, it was all Tomura’s literally undying willpower that brought him back from death. The heroes really did kill him, but he’s so empowered by hatred, he can nigh-literally bring himself back from dying no matter how much they kill him. (MHA ch 270)

8) “YOU TAKE THE FUCKING COMATOSE DUDE AWAY FROM HERE BEFORE YOU START HITTING PIECES OF MACHINE THAT CAN CAUSE ELECTRIC ARCS WHEN DAMAGED

I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD, IF YOU ARE THE ONE THAT IS RESPONSIBLE FROM THIS SLEEPY DIPSHIT TO WAKE UP I`M GOING TO DISASSEMBLE YOU ATOM BY ATOM WITH A FUCKING PINCER.”- Technically, he really wasn’t, but that hardly matter now, after everything’s be lost to the ashes… (MHA ch 270) 9) “NOT THAT IT MATTERS BECAUSETHEFUCKING CELLECTIRC CABLE NO NO NO NONONONON GODAFUCKINGDAMMIT X-FUCKER”- Still not really his fault, but, you can’t judge him for wanting to make sure the slightest chance of the villain’s comeback was thwarted. In the end, he was ironically trying to make sure there was no chance of them pulling an Uno-reverse, but thanks to Tomura’s sheer willpower, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

(Vigilantes ch 43)

10) “Now, Furuhashi, we’ll need to have a talk over what her quirk actually does, because although it acted like it was supposed to, you made it seem like it can do more, to be more precise, you made it seem like it is a low form of mind-control, and I’m now wondering if we were supposed to find about it later in the main series or not.”- Well, given Midnight’s fate in the canon, this was probably Horikoshi giving Furuhashi permission to expand on the specific details of midnight’s quirk, since Horikoshi wouldn’t have further opportunities for himself to do so past this point…

(MHA ch 253)

11) “And yet, Mic seems reluctant about it, meaning that it must be a closer teacher, someone like cementoss or Snipe, because I`ll be dead and buried before I suspect Midnight of being a mole.”- Well, now Midnight’s dead and needing buried, so we can definitely strike her off the suspect list for sure.

(MHA ch 255)

12) “Yeah GT, that was a bit fucked up, but then again, it`s not like you guys had another option. Aizawa and Mic understand it, and to be honest, I think this might help both of them to have some closure about this subject. Now, a real fucking shame that Midnight wasn`t allowed the same luxury, but that`s okay, maybe once we have our cloudy back she`ll be able to put the past to rest.”-

‘sucks in breath’ well… guess that’s not happening anymore. Sadly, the quartet will never meet again, whole as they once were, but perhaps it’s for the best that Midnight passed on without finding out the truth about Kumo in the end.

(MHA ch 257) 13) “Yeah yeah this is all going too much along the lines of “I never imagined I would feel this happy” which is usually an invitation for disaster, don`t you dare say something like that Midoriya, if you do I`ll know for sure you won`t be getting out of this alive.”- Well, he’s still alive- for now, but it’s not looking good for him and his long-term hero career with all his injuries, and AFO’s mad obsession with ‘reclaiming’ OFA meaning he’s priority target numbero uno before he moves onto his world domination plot. The same can’t be said about many, many others…. (MHA ch 258) 14) “In the Violet group we have Toya and Ayot, the yang-ying of the league in charge of M.ister Grim and Lexy Lother, Skully :O face and Miss Turtleneck, and of course Punk Yelena and Ironed face furry. Terrifying members, all of them.”- The fact this guy appeared to initially be just a one-off villain amongst many, only to them go and pull off something like this, shows a villainous take on the ‘hero of their own story’ trope MHA is so fond of bringing up. Each student is not a side character in another’s story, and each villain is somebody truly dangerous and terrifying, and not being a joke character Midnight can survive against when she’s badly injured. Worse, he was but one amongst many faces in this line-up- every villain out there on Tomura and AFO’s side is equally capable of pulling this off, of taking out somebody deeply involved in the narrative for a long time without any true pretentions of plot armour involved. There’s nobody who can protect the kids or the people from the terrifying monsters out to hurt them all now.  (MHA ch 259) 15) ““Once we slaughter all of them it all be a-okay, alright? Well, that is, if they don`t slaughter us first- oh, didn`t thought about that possibility. Oof, that ain`t good- Does someone here don`t have a funeral plan ready?” -Midnight, probably”- This did not age well. ( MHA ch 259) 16) “There are way too many familiar faces around us right now, there`s no way some of those lights won`t be snuffed out before the night falls upon this city. I`m scared to think which of them will be crossing the veil”- Well, here’s one of them… (MHA ch 263)  17) “And look at them go! Oh god, so many people I missed! kamui Woods, Mt. Lady, Gang Orca, AND MISS JOKE YES YES YEESSSSSS!

OH GOD

NO NO NOOOOOO AT LEAST ONE OF THEM IS GOING TO FUCKING DIE WON`T THEY?

HORI PLEASE, ANYTHING BUT MISS JOKE. YOU CAN TAKE THE MUSHROOM GIRL AND ANY OF THE UNNAMED EXTRAS, JUST LEAVE MISS JOKE ALONE”- Your wish is Horikoshi’s command…. (MHA ch 263) 18) “Oh you`re not gonna escape the bloodbath Kaminari, Midnight is here to make sure you`re witness to all the horrors that are about to take place.”- Midnight’s corpse winds up being one of the horrors he witnesses… (MHA ch 264) 19) “And as a merciful act, Midnight has come to put them to sleep before death truly takes them away. If they are gonna face judgment beyond the veil, the least she can do is make sure they`ll make the passing towards there peacefully.”- Sadly, the kids’ reactions here make it clear that her own passing was anything but peaceful… (MHA ch 264) 20) “NO NO NO PLEASE NO

OH GOD THEY ARE ALL CRYING

NO PLEASE

ANYONE BUT TWICE PLEASE. YOU CAN KILL ANYONE ELSE BUT TWICE PLEASE”- Well, Twice wasn’t spared in the end, but Horikoshi’s willing to revoke plot armour for both villains and heroes this arc… (MHA ch 267) 21) “Mirko please, enough with the death flags, you`re not Compass kid, okay? Also, Horikoshi would never do that, kill a major character, right? No I`m not in denial over the last chapter, not at all (:  “- ….awkward cough. (MHA ch 278)

22) “Not what I wanted to hear from the one person that can solve this problem, Midnight.”- She can sense the Liberation front members approaching her in the background there, and knows she’s facing the end of the line. Her saying that was admitting that she’s not strong enough to avoid placing the burden on the kids, but instead, she can try and hold the line a little, to buy them time to hit Machia with the sedative whilst keeping the liberation front members from reaching them. It’s also an admittance that she knows she’s not getting out of this, and she’s helpless to avert her fate.

(MHA ch 278) 23) “I think the law can be ignored for a moment if it means that everyone won’t fucking die Midnight

like you and Kamui are about to”-  Kamui? No. Midnight? ….

(MHA ch 278) 24) “Welp, she’s dead Momo. Sad. At least now the patent for her sleeping gas is broken and you can sell it freely, see, capitalism wins again. God bless America.”- America's looking like a mighty safe land of refuge for these kids given how this all turned out.... (MHA ch 278) 25) “Midnight went to sleep Kaminari, that’s what happens when the sun rises.”-She went to sleep, and for her, the sun will never rise again…

(MHA ch 279) 26) “Anywho, who’s ready for the kids of U.A. to meet a gruesome demise? I certainly ain’t but that’s our lot for today it seems. Time for another chapter of the main series, just as Kamui, Midnight and Mt. lady are dead and resting and now it’s up to Momo and her crew to save the day. Oh boy.”- Midnight? Confirmed dead. Resting? Unlikely given the situation at her time of passing. Kamui and Mt lady? Unclear, but they’re not gonna be fit for any heroics anytime soon after what they’ve been through, so that’s two more heroes down for the moment when they’re in greatest need of them. (MHA ch 279) 27) “Stop fucking raising death flags for god’s sake girl don’t you know how manga works? If she as much as break a nail I’m going to blame it on ya words mina.”- Oooooh, I’d say she’s broken just a bit more than a nail here….

28) “I DESPISE YOU, MANGAKA MAN”- And one of the deceased is Native, the hero that Izuku, Iida and Shoto prevented Stain from killing all that time ago. He got spared when so many other heroes perished under Stain’s blades, only to pass on unannounced when greater forces tore through the best efforts the heroes had to bear.

(MHA ch 272)

29) “ALSO RIP TO THOSE TWO THERE AS WELL. THAT MAKES AT LEAST FOUR CONFIRMED KILLS SO FAR. 

SHIGARAKI HAS BEEN AWAKEN FOR LESS THAN ONE MINUTE

THIS IS TURNING INTO A GUN DEVIL SITUATION, I`M JUST WAITING FOR THE NAMES OF THE VICTIMS TO START SHOWING UP IN THE PANELS”- No names, but the faces all tell the same story…and there’s just so many of them, not including the civilians who might have been killed in the devastation as well, that we still don’t know of certain how many got killed, maimed, or otherwise.

(MHA ch 288) 30) “WAITWAITWAIT

NO

NOPENOPENOPE

ABORT ABORT

OJIRO IS THERE, I ALREADY KNOWS HOW THIS IS GONNA END NOPE NOPE NOPE ABORT ABORT”-Luckily Ojiro survived the battle. Unluckily, the war’s only just kicked into high gear, and with all the adults down, out or broken, and All For One gunning for Izuku any way he can, all of 1A have a very special crosshair planted on their backs…. 31) “Now to the people who weren’t directly affected by it, and the apathy in the face of a catastrophe that cost so many lives i suppose.”- The same apathy and complacency that Tenko suffered under, appropriately enough. Now Izuku and the rest of the heroes are gonna walk a mile in his shoes, and it won’t be pleasant. 32) “…and yet, even in face of all those horrors, hope was not extinguished. There are people who still believe in those fighting for justice.

Like they say, Hope has dirt in her clothes, blood in her face, has just spit a teeth, and she got up and is ready to keep going.”-  The innocence of childhood shows that hope still remains strong, even in the face of this massive disaster and the cynicism that it’s bringing forth in the people.  33) “Long time no see, Potato McFuckface. So, how’s the bomber cell thing going for you?”- Well, uhh, I think there’s certainly going to be quite a few cells blown open in just a moment…

34) “Hey, did Dabi’s hair got back to black already?”- Yeah, I checked, and I just think that’s a printing error that made it into the official spread, Dabi shouldn’t have had time or reason to re-dye his hair now that the secret’s out. 35) “…And so we will go down that road.

Fuck me, one wasn’t bad enough, we’ll have to worry about two of them.”- The story was always about a mentor “passing the torch” to the younger generation to take up the fight…. except, the evil mentor rigged the game so he doesn’t have to truly give it up. Now Izuku genuinely has to fight both his arch-enemy and evil predecessor at once, with both vying for the position of “leader of villains” in a shared overlap of killing Izuku

36) “fucking hell man.

this shit was too heavy for me.

I need some time after that.”- The story got real dark, and I wish I could say it gets better, but…

@thelreads

[neonponders]

✨Hogwarts Harringrove ✨ pt. 12 ( 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 13 • ao3 )

However, Billy’s exclusion from the quidditch investigation did not last long. The school left it to Hopper, and Billy actually felt sorry for the man.

“I’m sorry to talk to you about this, Billy, but the faculty have left it to me to sort out the bludger sabotaging.”

“I thought you were retired,” Billy remarked, only glancing at the hospital wing doors because he heard Steve’s discussion within.

Hopper drew him further away to the alcove that looked out over the rolling green hills on one side of the grounds. The side where his large cabin smoked tranquilly from its chimney. “I am, however, my kid has reason to believe certain people are involved - ”

“What, because Steve and I fought before we dated?”

“Easy,” Hopper both soothed and warned. “You’re not actually a suspect. Yet. But since you are dating, you ought to know who might have regular access to Steve’s room - ”

“Just tell me who Ellie suspects. Steve told me she’s got more in her than just her staring power.”

Hopper sighed heavily as he rubbed circles into his eyes. “I guess that’s easier, though I’m not consoled. El saw someone through polyjuice potion.”

Billy had his books for Potions but had not actually started those lab classes yes. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s an illegal potion that kids like to play around with. It’s impressive if they manage to successfully make it, but a hell of a time to work out of their system if something goes wrong. They need samples from a person in order to look like them. A safe dose renders a person looking like another for an hour.”

“I don’t have Potions yet. I wouldn’t know who’s good at that stuff.”

Hopper actually cracked a relieved smile. “Kid, that’s the most favorable thing I’ve heard since yesterday. That definitely works in your advantage, but like I said, Ellie saw through the potion. I’m not familiar with the students yet, so I need to know if you recognize anyone - hopefully just one person - with a blond buzzcut.”

Billy couldn’t claim to, but he asked, “Who were they posing as?”

“Ravenclaw chaser, Elizabeth Conner. Her imposter stayed with us the whole afternoon, making me think they’ve overdosed to stay in the right skin. We’ve recovered Elizabeth, who is disoriented but safe. Unfortunately, you all skip class as regularly as muggle teens, so a missing person isn’t exactly noticed.”

“I’ll ask Steve?” he ventured.

“Yeah. Come down to the cabin if you find anything useful. Is that bird okay?”

Billy huffed a laugh. “Yeah, she’s fine. Steve’s working on a sigil thing for her to wear.”

“Good. If he wants help with that, bring him with you.”

They parted ways, Billy returning to the hospital wing, where a witch was playing Steve’s ribs like a xylophone. He waited until they were done and drew Steve to the alcove where Hopper had taken him. Steve gulped water as he listened, eyes blowing wide when he heard about the blond buzzcut.

“That’s Conner’s boyfriend. He’s a Gryffindor. Oh, youch, and people tried to tease me about being a traitor.”

“Really? Why, because of Buckley?”

Steve scratched the wide of his eyelid as he sighed, “It was a whole thing. Nancy and I broke up, she got with Jonathan, I fought Tommy - ”

“You and Nancy dated?” Billy exclaimed before he meant to. He recalled how there were two prefects with letters, after all.

Steve’s eyes rolled. “Don’t worry, she thoroughly dumped me. I actually thought about dating Robin until she let me down nicely about being a lesbian - ”

His eyes widened for a whole different reason. “I didn’t say that. Understand?”

“She likes Tammy Thomspon,” Billy pieced together, grinning like a wolf. “The same Thompson who openly chases Gregory Milch?”

Steve looked outside for salvation as his weight moved over his feet. “I keep telling her to raise her standards, but she and Tammy are room mates and Robin’s weak to a nice pair. Frankly, I can’t blame her. Getting her own prefect room is going to do Robin a lot of good.”

Billy cackled. Steve playfully shoved his shoulder. “That’s our friend, don’t be a dick. Robin hated my guts for years because Tammy liked me first.”

“What changed?” Billy asked, laughter dwindling to a smug grin.

“We got partnered in our Potions class. It was a nightmare. We had to make a terrarium that got cold enough to make ice cream.”

Billy frowned. “That sounds more like Charms than a potion.”

“I rest my case,” Steve exhaled with a head shake.

“Come on, Hopper’s expecting us. I only hear complaints about Potions, is it really that bad?”

Steve pushed his shirt sleeves up and laced a couple of fingers with Billy’s as they descended through the castle. It was a remarkably warm day today, so he’d also rolled up his jeans to expose that healing bruise on his shin. Steve dressed like such a prep, but Billy liked what those high waisted jeans did for his boyfriend’s silhouette.

Ellie answered the door wearing sunglasses. Steve congratulated, “Are those new? Good color.”

She grinned toothily and asked, “Bird?”

“She’s good. I left her with my friend, Robin. I’ll bring her next time. Hi, Hop.”

“Hey, you doin’ okay?”

“Better, now that I’ve been manhandled by the doctors,” he quipped. “So, uh...Gregory Milch?”

He and Billy explained the correlation while Hopper opened some familiar cans of beer for them. They verified that Steve hadn’t technically seen him for some time. “He sleeps with the curtains drawn, so I think the last time I really saw him was last week.”

“Once the faculty finds him, there will be a room change,” Hopper informed.

“And a breakup,” Billy commented.

“Yeah, that’s safer,” Steve said dryly.

“Well I don’t know the particulars of their relationship, but I intend to have another talk with Elizabeth Conner soon. Either way, I doubt he’ll be inclined to do anything like this for his girlfriend again - ”

“Safe for Milch,” Ellie clarified, cutting off a chunk of fresh baked bread on the table to scoop up some jam.

Hopper looked at her while Steve confirmed, “I’m not letting that guy sleep next to me ever again. And Tommy Hagan? Jesus, don’t even let this get out. Gryffindors take things into their own hands if you’re not fast enough.”

Hopper absorbed that with a gently open expression. “Noted.”

[senor-plume]

Drugs

Playing some Lazy desire music As the centipedes in my legs Crawl around Chewing on the meat And keeping me At high alert In this swanky sickened domicile

So…with the insects inside of me I feel clammy and cold Shaking a bit from The lack of medicine In the cupboard …Down my throat Or in my veins …Nothing up my nose Nor up my smooth ass

If it wasn't for the fine tunes I truly believe I would Raise the tattered rope up From the ceiling And Have done with it …Calling it a day

So, I swallow pesticides In hopes of ending this Infestation And perhaps a nice side effect Will go down And I'll get slightly High …Something to enhance the ditties That I play From the plastic box That is housed on the shelf About three feet away from my fingers

And in the end This will be a day That will come back to me Often And leave it imprints In my buried brain That will not be Reminisced romantically

I play The Fixx For the hell of it As my bong remains Empty And no powder around …No needles …No bottles …No sex even Just me alone Dealing with this anxiety attack Sober

I can…and I do Light a Camel up And exhale the blue smoke Up high Which scatters like a gang bang siren Around the ceiling fan Which is keeping me So very cool On this November afternoon

It is happening

It is going down

And the song comes to its Conclusion And now only a New Wave echo Reaches my waxy ears And parades down my neck Through my spine And deep into my legs Which is my only hope For A touch of normalcy On this crazy day

Life is over

My beard is scratchy And in need of some dye To ink out the grays As I suffer alone On McDonald Avenue Second floor Binghamton, NY With my xylophone ribs Cracked out And in need of a medicine …A pill of some sort That can make me feel Whole Again As I stare directly at the screen And watch as the words Pollute my field of vision

And not a drop of poetry Can save me now No Carver or Bukowski To fill up my empty spaces As the sickness continues on Without my approval Deep inside of me As willow trees sway Like drunkards Outside of my windy window In need of massive canes To hold them Upright and steady

I lay down on the couch Swearing to myself As I withdraw from my dependence In agony But still mighty beautiful No matter what I feel like

I can always make a mirror Look good No Matter What As I file my fingers through my Greasy hair In just a robe And slippers With no newspaper to piddle on Or a pipe to fill up

Domestic monstrosity Today Alone And feeling it hard and heavy As the beasts inside of me Continue on Slicing up my innards And spitting it out Causing my lungs To fill with a funky water And I cough up Chunks of Lord only knows Into my shaking hands That were just days ago Filled with Persian breasts

It is funny how Things change so quickly When you are not looking

So, here we have the man Down for the count And wishing for the doorbell to ring Like an ambulance …To save me From this creation Deep inside of me

I just want to sleep

Yeah, I just want to sleep now So I close my Black and white eyes And let Bette Davis Swim around Dressed in a bathing suit In a fantasy that may be the only thing That can save me now

From myself And from forces Uninvited Inside of me

Leave me be!

Let me go!

Freedom!

I cry out In the dark To no one But still just me And the cracked mirror Next to the sofa That is missing the straws and powders That could Save me now

…The only thing that could Ease my misery

Drugs

Damn right

Call me Mr. Pharmacy Among the empty shelves Of my addictions Tonight In need of a fix And a slap and tickle On my ass To let me know That I have been Reborn And tiny once again

It's really all I want As the blood gurgles Throughout my temple Leaving me cold On a warm afternoon When all I really need Is sleep To save my soft ass From the misery I created For myself These past few days

Addiction… What a laugh So I smile to myself And bring the blanket up to my Chinny chin chin And drift off Finally Leaving me to float Safely Though the misty dreams Of my insanity While they continue on Chewing As I slumber Away an hour or so On the sofa…on the pillow Out of my mind Again For yet One more day