#I will dig this meme up from the ground

[error-silence]

Notice how his real eye has a shine to it as Sal cries? Very mindful, very considerate

Very demure

[deadghosy]

HAZBIN HOTEL X CAELUS! READER

prompt: you were found digging in their trash and they took you in

(I got covid😭 so me posting xreader will be kinda slow)

You were digging for some food ever since you fell from heaven because you kept fighting people over trash…I mean damn reader…

You fell with a blank look as you had a rotten banana in your mouth as you looked down to see pentagram city…so what did you do? You pulled out your fire sword and slash the ground to soften your fall which worked. You changed it to a bat for protection as you found a dumpster!

CHA-CHING✨ MORE TRASHHHH

You dig in the dumpster not hearing a person whistling. The person dropped the garbage bag shocked to see a….? Whatever you are digging in the dumpster. Your face was completely dirty as you lift it up to show you found a cool old watch.

Charlie didn’t know what to do. Are you homeless? Is what she thought as she takes you out the garbage as you blankly stare at her “•_•” “uhm sweetie are you okay?” “……” “not much of a talker huh…” you just stayed quiet as Charlie introduced herself and shook your hand bringing you to the hotel so you can have a place to stay.

I feel like you were a new angel and only stayed for like 1 month…(free trial ass shit…) and so when you didn’t act holy and proper. That’s why you mostly got kicked out

Vaggie will know you are an angel because of your angelic look and golden eyes as you just stand there minding your business. You tell her you fell because you fought over your treasure….your trash practically. So Vaggie tells you what happened to her and you hugged her making her feel safe about herself a bit.

You two have matching bracelets you made from an exercise Charlie did.

Okay I headcannon that Lucifer is already in the hotel living with his daughter. And he felt your presence and he would be like. “Fuck are you doing here”🤨 “I fought for my life.”

Vox one time put you on air with him because of your golden shining eyes….i think he was flirting with you as you ate some gift cookies he made for you…

Velvette tried to make you a model, but you kept wandering off somehow. Literally she got tired of you but never of your face as she at least posted you wearing some nice 2000 makeup

Carmilla had a gut feeling about you being an angel. She wanted to kill you but then you gave her a ring you found in a dumpster because you said she reminded you of your earth mother/parent. Yeah she wanted to adopt you

You help sir Pentious, or who you call penny for his project builds. You dig in dumpster’s, trash bins, and garbage dumps

Angel dust and you sometimes just be on your phones all the time which is obnoxious. But hey, I don’t make the rules. Being on your phone makes it seem like you don’t want to be talked to which is true.

Lucifer made you a duck as he notciced how lonely you are….(you don’t give a fuck, you only need trash as your friends) so Lucifer made you 20 ducks that are based on your favorite things or like idk just ducks

The egg boiz follow you around as you literally calling you the, “TRASH BOSS!” Not in a bad way more like in admiration as you give them stuff from the garbage.

Your golden eyes shining in the night scaring husk as he didn’t even see you in his hind sight. Like he is a cat, but he didn’t even see you?!

You and alastor’s both eat weird things, like he is a cannibal….and for you..either trash or just normal weird food combos

Alastor would definitely try to get you to eat cannibal meat, but to be honest you can tell the difference between human and regular meat. You always know.

Niffty is the kind of person who would give you a trash flower crown, kinda like how she made a crown for Alastor ✨🦆

I headcannon your angelic/demon form to be a raccoon 💀

You send dumbass memes in the hazbin hotel gc…

You are quite the feral person tbh, but who didn’t know when you literally fought people for your damn trash.

You definitely had bit Valentino once as Angel dust brought you to a club and you were digging in trash to find something cool. But Valentino found you adorable in the face and wanted to make you a sex worker. And what did you do when he tried to hurt Angel?

YOU BIT HIS FUCKIN HAND ALMOST OFF AS ANGEL WAS TRYING TO PULL YOU OFF😭

Yeah..you definitely had blood dripping from your mouth when Angel dragged you out of the club

[54625]

I miss kelp cocaine

I miss everyone congregating at Phil and Missa's, I miss Roier's over exaggerated moan every time he and Cellbit kissed, I miss everyone throwing their balaclavas on and going "passa tudo...", Tubbo's constant grilling of Fit and Pac (especially Fit), Mike's hairdressing, everyone singing the Pac e Mike wow wow song, Gegg, the admins striking people with lightning perfectly on cue, the Foolish cheating allegations, Slime and Mariana traumatising their viewers, Dorime playing randomly, people turning eachother rainbow coloured with the rainbow jelly, Dapper randomly pulling out all kinds of crazy creatures from his backpack, the extremely overwhelming pre-event meet ups, Las Casualonas, the casualonas dance, Sunny's materialism, Etoiles telling everyone how and why their armour and weapons aren't actually optimised, Phil breaking the fourth wall, Baghera and her fish joke, Rubius abusing his creative power, Foolish ruining the tension during serious moments, Cellbit obsessing over every lore lead or clue, Roier and his hilarious PNG builds, Felps "finally being added to the server", Fit always looking after Mariana's builds in his absence, everyone playing hide and seek, Cucurucho spying on and jumpscaring everyone, Quackity constantly being made fun of for his dead kid, Phil and Fit's aggressive "friendly" flirting, Cellbit talking over Richas' shoulder while he's painting, Leonarda's spoiledness, Ramón's obsession with the citric acid cycle, Slime's ability to show up for an event out of nowhere and just completely derail everything, new players always freaking out about Fit's voice, Quackity desperately trying to find a match since day 1 and always failing, Maximus' talk show, people teleporting in and out at just the right second, Jaiden's love for Hatsune Miku infecting the server, Bad and Foolish's encounters, Ramón threatening to blow himself up or digging himself into the ground when he doesn't get his way, Tallulah drowning herself when she doesn't get her way, the hilarious mistranslations, the wonderful screenshots, Vegetta's mines, Jaiden's expanding list of nationalities, Antoine being an enigma, the in-game karaoke place, Bobby starting fights, Juanaflippa dying over and over, Empanada trauma dumping about her first death to Bagi, Cellbit's vivo turbo ad, Bad yelling "language!", Pol and Foolish and Mouse not being able to stop laughing around each other, Pierre and Max's damn furry club, "no mames!", Spreen leaving for cigarettes, Bad stealing furniture, Missa being incomprehensibly cringefail (I will never forget that "bucket clutch"), Felps' hole, Tubbo's bigger hole, Mike going crazy that one time, Chayanne whipping out his cooking utensils, "Fofoca!", Pomme being the French Sniper, Pepito being homeless for a sec? Richarlyson's many personalities and characters, Tilin being "la tres leches", Trump even being called Trump to begin with, Cucuruchito flirting with everyone, dozens of plots to break into various federation buildings, hundreds of rule breaks, DanTDM being theorised to be Bagi's missing brother, Etoiles' love-hate relationship with the codes, Kameto going out for milk, Tina's heavily one sided rivalry with Fit, everyone changing their skins for events and some people being so extra with it, things falling into chaos every time an event needed them to travel a long distance together, the messy group photos, Charlie's grief spirals, people meeting up at Spreen's bar way back when, everyone making an effort to speak languages they don't speak, the sharing of international memes, the teaching of swear words, the joy that was born from the interconnectivity.

Just all of the things, dumb, hilarious, or adorable. The moments, bits and little jokes that made the QSMP so engaging, fun and entertaining to watch. That made you feel like you were participating in one massive celebration. I miss it.

[zhongrin]

look at me with love tears in your eyes

◇ characters ◇ zhongli

◇ tags ◇ minors dni, yandere, unhealthy & toxic relationship, dependency, dacryphilia, zhongli with a sadistic streak, overstimulation, dragon!li

◇ a/n ◇ my brain hatched this soft-but-sadistic yan!zhongli so excuse me while i just.... *dumps this idea to you*

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

zhongli loves it when you obediently listen to him, looking up with silent affection and all your attention. your ears focused on his smooth voice, your eyes reflecting his visage, your lips curling in a contented smile; all of your senses being filled with him, and only him.

zhongli loves it when you seek him out specifically for help. it can be the most mundane of tasks, like asking him to get an item stored in a place you can't reach. it could be a simple request like asking him to get some groceries (he'll sneakily put your favorite snacks in there too), or a complicated one like picking a set of clothes that suits you better (he thinks you look good in everything; because how could you not?). and he knows the silent requests, the unspoken plea of help when you gruffly complain into his chest as you tell him how you had the worst day in your life (it's okay. he'll make your day better. and he'll make sure that those who made it a bad day in the first place buried a thousand feet under the ground).

but zhongli loves it most when you cry.

there's just something about your tears. about the overflow of emotions in your eyes and the way they glisten against your skin.

zhongli loves it when you cry out of sadness. so vulnerable and pitiful, choked sobs and broken breaths. all broken and cracked, with him being the only string that holds you up from completely falling and shattering against dark concrete. all it takes is one push and you would be at his mercy. all it takes is a few comforting words and you'd nuzzle against him lovingly. he can make or break you and he knows it. you're quite lucky he has no desire to do the latter.

zhongli loves it when you cry out of joy. sometimes they're accompanied by a peal of wheezing laughter, other times they're a symphony of giggles and soft choked sobs. it's adorable. it's endearing. knowing that he made you so happy to the point of crying... love bleeds from his heart and covers his whole being and so who can blame him for smothering you in it?

zhongli loves it when you cry out of overstimulation. trembling hands trying to dig and push him away as he insists that you take more of him. more more more moremoremoremore. all your senses, all of your body and soul, all your heart - they belong to him and he'll make sure he takes a good care of you. so fall into this little heaven he creates for you and never try to look for your way out.

because when you make a deal with a drago̵̼͂n, there's no escape - not even in death.

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @diebischesther | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ladylofspades | @sup-zfam | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @nachotrash | @algrimmammon | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @pvbbyb0y | @shipperxchaos | @crystalflygeo | @n3r0-1417 | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @justawalkingdisaster | @celestewritestoomuch

[itsabouttimex2]

Taken Abroad is sooo good! And the accompanying memes are great too 💖

Bro imagine if demon reader went full hardcore one day and just keeps letting to circlets dig into their flesh and bone until their hands just fall off, using the second they separate to vanish. Like they are a forest demon, so what if they just regrow their hands? Or make prosthetic nature ones? Like I’m sure their freedom wouldn’t last long (thanks to Monkey King’s gold vision) but I’d love to see the group’s reaction to such gruesome determination!

Taken Aboard:

Amputation

I’m glad you like it! I really thought that the Journeyfam should have a mix of goofy and tragic, because the novel itself can get pretty damn funny.

Another ‘funny’ thing? This little stunt wouldn’t work at all. Given what we know about Wukong’s powers, he can rip his head off and regenerate it (His beheading contest with the Tiger Strength Immortal in the novel) and since he’s still got the circlet after that…

Y/N will still have theirs.

And obviously no one is happy to see that this child would do something so horribly gruesome and bloody to themself, leaving to a wide array of horrified reactions.

Ao Lie is devastated that you would hurt yourself for any reason at all. Once you’ve been dragged back to camp by the snickering Monkey King, the dragon prince rushes to your side and snatches you up, nuzzling you to his chest. “Oh, I’m glad you’re alright! You poor little thing, what were you thinking? Trying to slice those bands off! Sweetie, what if something had gone wrong during the regrowing process? Here, let Brother Lie wash the blood off of you!”

He dotes on you for a good hour or two, starting by thoroughly scrubbing you down in a shallow washbasin. (He heats the water in his draconic form.) There’s a mixture of very light scolding and extraordinary concern, scraping all across your body with a wooden bath brush. Once you’re nice and clean you get wrapped up in one of his spare robes to dry off, forced to sit and listen to one of the monk’s lectures as Lie brushes out and braids your hair.

“I think you need to start sleeping in Brother Lie’s tent from now on, sweetie. Maybe it’ll help to keep those little feet from wandering, hmm?”

His voice is gentle, even as you’re forcibly stuffed into a thick sleeping bag, the same one that Lie always uses. For a moment you think he’s simply going to watch you to prevent any further escapades, but then he squishes in beside you, wrapping you tight in his arms.

“Sleep well, sweetie. Big brother will keep you safe.”

———————————————————————-

Sun Wukong laughs at you first, having tried the same thing by: smashing his forehead inwards, shattering his skull entirely, ripping his head off, etc. “You could have just asked for some advice on the cuffs, bud. I would’ve told ya that they jump back to your real body, y’know!”

His hands work through the tangled locks of your hair, plucking out juicy bugs and crunchy twigs. “Shut up,” you huff, squirming around in his lap. “I hate them. And you wouldn’t have known whether or not it would’ve worked! You only have one of them!” “S’not fair,” he half-heartedly agrees, if only to set up his next few word. “You should’ve just had one- around your neck to shut you up!”

The Great Sage giggles as you lunge at him, dodging your attempt to bite his wrist. “Easy, easy! C’mon, I was just teasing you!” He grabs your waist and wrestles you to the ground, his fingers dragging lightly across your skin as he tries to force a few giggles or even just a smile out of you. Between angry laughs you manage to throw a punch, feeling his snout bend under your hand.

And though it doesn’t hurt worse than a mild sting, Wukong is still a little astounded that his ‘little sibling’ got outright violent with him. “…you know what, bud? Maybe you do need some ‘quiet time’. I’m gonna keep you here in my lap for a few more hours, I think. And! No saying even a word!”

And before you can argue or complain he tacks on a “How bout I tell you another story from my time back in Flower Fruit Mountain, huh?” Of course you get a story, because this isn’t really a punishment, after all. He’s just framing it as one so you ‘have’ to sit and spend time with one. He’s a pretty clever monkey.

“…a story about killing hunters?”

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

———————————————————————-

Sha Wujing has no words. He’s hurt and saddened that you would do this to yourself, nearly in tears at the sight of your wounds. He finally has people who accept not only his mistakes and misdeed, but his demonic form alongside them.

And now one has done this.

To Wujing, this isn’t just a team of random travelers. This is his family. You are his family. And he cannot bear to see you so upset and distraught that you might switch to such gruesome and self-injurious behaviors.

The river demon will switch to baby gloves afterwards, treating you like a porcelain figure that is bound to shatter when mishandled.

He’ll carry you on his shoulders and his back and in his arms, squishing your tiny form perfectly into his protective chest. For hours on end the demon will usher you about, never daring to let you free from the safety and security that his power offers.

Instead of allowing you to feed yourself, Wujing will first cut your meals into pieces and then feed them to you piece by piece, ensuring that you won’t choke (intentionally or otherwise) on them. And he won’t let you get dressed alone, either. Sleeves are a useful tool, after all.

He sees the severance of your limbs more as a form of “self-harm��� than an attempt to escape, unfortunately for you. It leads him to think of you as a danger to yourself that needs to be properly wrangled and tended to.

All you can do when he’s around from then on is submit to “Brother Sand’s” loving care, and pray he might stop thinking of you as unstable and prone to breakage.

———————————————————————-

Zhu Bajie is thoroughly disgusted, though that revulsion is born mostly of worry. Nobody wants to see a kid slice off their own wrists, and he certainly wasn’t hoping to see you standing in a puddle of your own blood, your torn flesh bubbling sizzling and bubbling up as it regrew.

And he especially didn’t want something so awful to happen to his little sibling. Not to someone so very precious to him.

Bajie really just… doesn’t know what to do.

You’re hurt. Usually this scenario ends with him either eating a human or smashing a demon’s head open with his nine-tooth rake. And he’d fight off the monk’s reprimands with his own volley of justifications. “Y/N is a child! Any jerk who would hurt them is unforgivable!” He’d declare, his mouth stained with fresh crimson. “A demon who would put their hands on a child is just a monster, that’s all,” the pig might yell, clutching you to his chest protectively.

Neither of those are options when you’ve the person that hurt you is yourself.

All the swine can really do is hold you and try not to scream your ear off about never hurting yourself again, rocking back and forth like he’s trying to soothe a baby to sleep.

Maybe that will help.

Maybe if he holds you long enough and keeps his grip tight, Bajie can prevent you from being hurt by anyone or anything ever again.

Or maybe it’s just his way of keeping you from leaving him and this little family again.

———————————————————————-

Tang Sanzang, reasonable man that he is, understands that you’re not in a great headspace right now. If things got so bad that you viewed the gory removal of your arms as a reasonable option to escape, then what you need isn’t further punishment… but a firm and guiding hand.

So the monk refrains from the sutra and chooses instead to tend to your fragile condition. Reassurance that he isn’t angry at what you’ve done to yourself, a promise that you’re already forgiven for running. I think he’s likely to mandate constant surveillance of you from now, always to be under the eye of either him or one of his disciples.

He tends any wounds or aches with balm, stitches the tears in your clothing, then puts you to bed with a canteen of water at your side.

His well of patience is truly endless, only leaving room for an occasional reprimand or a quick tightening of the blessed bands on your wrists. There’s no lashing out, no brutal punishments.

Hurting yourself has not changed that.

Sanzang will spend each early morning before travel checking you over for new wounds and changing out any bandages you’ve got wrapped around old injuries.

The Great Monk stills cherishes you, of course. He’ll never stop cherishing you.

He’s just a little more gentle with that love now.

[sky-snz]

September Ballad (M, Cold)

Ok, time for a longer one (2.4k words :P). Here’s a fic with some busy autumn vibes, and cold that sneaks up on Jonah hard at work. xx

cw: mess

-

[A video recording. The Anderson Cottage attic, midday. Jonah squeezes the clamp of the black capo, and brings it down from the sixth fret to the third fret. His eyes drift toward the ground, and slowly, he begins to pluck out a melody on the guitar. In a soft voice, he starts to sing. ‘It’s her that brings me there She’ll say welcome back to earth It’s been far too long for me to bear…’]

It wasn’t quieter, just more chilly. Things in the world seemed to slowly acquire rougher edges - there was the rustling of trees and stacks of dog-eared papers that were important.

[‘Dig my body from the dirt, Gentle, so the roots wouldn’t tear…’]

The width of each day was gradually compressing. Their evening walks had been happening earlier to catch the sunset. And Lily was more often tired, and into September, Jonah tended to work late nights. It seemed he’d exchanged sunsets for a covered pot on the stove in the empty kitchen. Memes sent without additional text. A warm hand ran gently down the back of a thick sweater, a whistling kettle, and curated canisters of vitamins and such that mysteriously appeared on the cluttered counter.

“heeihhHh, HUHdt’EEISSCHHIEWWW!!!” 

Jonah’s long form bent double with a sudden violent, desperate sneeze. His hand quickly gripped onto the edge of the kitchen sink and held tightly, as the force of the expulsion shuddered through his shoulders and threw him forward. It was like a clap of thunder following far behind a streak of lightning - seeming to coming out of no where. He straightened and gave his head a small shake.

His perpetually rosy nostrils flared as he sniffed gently. His long, dark hair seemed to be behaving a bit more than it had just a few days ago, as the temperature subtly began to drop. And that was the bittersweet gateway to autumn. The end to one type of suffering, and onto various others - but with it, came a tradition of compiled solutions by humanity to maintain warmth. Life. Spirit.

He’d chalked up his usual congestion these days to the pollen, although it was trickier to tell for sure, since it had been rather cold. The temperature shift often gave his sinuses grief on its own. Nonetheless, he had work to do. One of his favourite parts of the day was making himself a tea before playing piano, which usually helped with the congestion.

“huht’JSCHH!!-unhh…” He muffled a sneeze into his shoulder, his hands occupied with a bottle of honey and a tablespoon. He sucked in a damp sniffle and sighed softly. 

This game of ‘is this a cold or allergies?’ was getting tiring. He supposed as long as he had the ability to get things done, he’d be fine. But still, “-Ah’TDSCHHhh-!!!” it might be kinder on his sinuses if he was able to tell which was the cause.

Shit. Honey dripped down the side of his mug of tea, as did his nose, dripping into his moustache and onto dry lips. He sucked in a harsh, frustrated sniffle, and reached for the roll of paper towel.

“Bless you.” Jonah heard Lily approaching down the stairs.

“*hsnff!* Thagk you.” Jonah set down the bottle of honey on the counter. As he gently wiped his face with some folded paper towel, he turned to see her enter the kitchen. 

“You doing okay?” she asked softly, lifting a hand and gently running it over his back.

“Just sdeezi’g,” he exhaled. 

“Ah, right on time.” Jonah gave a small, exhausted chuckle. Lily smiled, and reached up to brush his hair out of his face. “You had your meds?” she murmured. Her sea blue eyes stared into his earthy, moss-coloured ones. Jonah grew a bit flustered - every now and then he would forget, but this time he actually did.

“Yes, love,” he said with a gentle grin.

“Yeah? When’d you last use the nose spray?”

Jonah barked a soft, wheezy laugh, then tried to stop as she kept her strange, flirty gaze. He knew that she’d worry. Lily’s eyes ran over his impossibly handsome features. As she moved closer, his hands gently found her waist.

Jonah’s eyelashes fluttered as he gazed down at her. “This morning,” he mumbled hoarsely. 

“Take some now, it should be at least twice a day, right?”

“Once I’ve made my tea,” Jonah replied.

“Let me,” Lily said, gently touching his hand.

“Lil, I’ve got it,” he said gently, his hands still in the task of wiping the side of the mug.

“‘Kay,” Lily breathed. She ran her hand over his back once more, then went to get a glass for herself.

Jonah sniffled gently, but liquidly. The way he cleared his throat again, gruffly, had Lily’s spider sense on guard.

“What time’s the dinner tomorrow?” she asked, once she’d poured herself some water.

“Uh, *snrff!* Seved, I believe. *snrk!*” he said, turning to lean back against the counter.

Following a sip from the hot mug of tea, Jonah let out a soft, shaky exhale. Watery mucus ran down his upper lip, and he sniffled thickly. He held the breath, his chin turning to the side.

“Oh,” he huffed softly, and quickly set down the mug of tea. He lifted his other hand and pinched his sniffly nose, half-stifling a wet sneeze. “KGCHH-!! -unh, *snrff! sdrf!*”

“Bless you,” Lily breathed, and gently rubbed his back. 

“'Scuse mbe, thagk you.”

Lily wandered off to the study corner of the living room to double check her schedule. The dress she’d planned to wear was hung on the door of her closet. She hadn’t worn it in a while, and perhaps it had seen better days, but it was plain, elegant, and reliable.

[‘Eyes above the chasm where the golden hour illuminates her hair… And I’m stood there…’]

There was a heavy ceramic thud against the hardwood floor, the jingle of a teaspoon, and Jonah crying out at full volume.

“Ah-! Fuck…”

Lily straightened quickly like a meerkat, hearing Jonah’s muffled grumblings from the kitchen. From the desk chair in the living room, she tried to peek around the doorway to the dining room.

“Jonah?” she called. She stood and went to the doorway. “You okay, sweetie?”

“I’b fide,” he mumbled as she spotted him in the kitchen, crouching to pick up his empty mug and teaspoon from the puddle of tea on the floor. He had to reign in his temper, it was just a minor inconvenience…

“Oh,” Lily couldn’t help but say, her heart sinking a little. “Did y-“

“AAESSCHIEWW!! -ESSCHIEWW!!-sshieww!!” Before she could get a question out, he dissolved into another rapid, itchy spell of sneezes. “*snnnrgk!* EEEISSCHH!!! *hsddrff* God, I’b soh… *sddrffh!* I’b so sorry, *sdDDRFF!* Jesus,” he murmured hastily, struggling to sniffle back the abundance of mess oozing from his red, dripping nose. His expression was still hazy with desperation.

“Bless you, darling. Here, I got it.” Lily set the mug and teaspoon down in the sink, then tore some paper towels from the roll. She couldn’t help but continue to eye Jonah. “Are you hurt? Did you spill any on yourself?”

“*sdrff!* D-Doe, just… hh-! just- *sddrffh!* hh’just od by- hh’odbypadts-ISSCHIUE-!! HRR’ISSCHIEWWw!!” Jonah barely choked out an answer before the burning irritation overwhelmed him. He groaned softly, sounding stuffy and miserable.

“Bless you. Here, baby love, blow your nose, okay?” Lily offered him a spare handkerchief that she found in the drawer of the phone table. With bleary eyes, Jonah accepted the handkerchief, and rose up from crouching.

“Hh-haH-! Hehh!” Eyelids fluttering, he quickly leaned a hand on the counter before letting out a rapid, itchy triple. “HAAD’SCHHIEWW!!-sshieww!! ESSCHHIEWW!!!”

“Bless you,” Lily said soothingly.

“EEIY’ESSSCHHIEWWW!!!” Oh. Yikes, that sounded like it hurt. He bent double over the sink with that one, and let out a couple of chesty coughs.

“Bless you, love.”

“Thadk you…” Jonah mumbled wearily into the cloth. 

He turned and began to blow his nose. It was heavy, gurgling, sounding much needed. As Lily wiped the last of the spilt tea on the floor, she heard him pause for breath and blow again, producing congested honks. She felt sympathy as he panted for breath, sucking in several sniffles that didn’t seem to be moving much.

After a bit, he turned back around to find that Lily had finished cleaning up his mess.

“Oh,” he said softly. He stared at her, still making a few itchy rubs at his pink nose with the folded hanky. He let out a hoarse, timid chuckle. “Thagk you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Lily stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and lifted a hand to rub his back.

“I’b sorry, I’b such a klutz, *snrgk!*”

“You’re okay,” she said firmly. Lily switched to gently scratching his back instead. Jonah leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Your poor tea, though. Let’s make you another one.”

“Hh’I- hhh’oh, I still deeh- huhh, Gods sakes, *gsdrff!*” he muttered breathily, turning away again. “haaH! HAAASSCHHIEWW!!-Ohh, hih-! RR’AASSCHHIEWW!!! -AASCHIEWW!! …haht’Chieww-!! … g’nhh. *sdrff!*”

“Bless you.”

“*snrgk!* Pardod be, thagk you, *snnrk!* Hold od,” he uttered with defeat, and went to the living room. 

More sad, honking blows could be heard as he walked away. Lily poured more water into the kettle. The switch made a satisfying click as she turned it on, and again, the pot began to heat up.

-

[‘Rendered speechless by silence of it all, And with it all, I’m taken-‘]

Jonah’s noisy, drawn out snores were interrupted by some itchy coughs, ones that came so fast that they startled Lily as she’d begun to nod off. His big torso expanded as he took a wheezy, shuddering gasp, then came a sneeze so vicious that it jerked his head and shoulders forward from the incline of pillows.

“hhHAAASSCHHIEWWW!!!” It was explosive, too - Lily could see the spray in the low light, and hear the wet bursting of thick mucus as the sneeze came at full force.

“Oh, bless you love,” Lily hummed, and reached over to rub her hand soothingly over his thigh.

“HAADSSCHHIEWWw!!!” Just as he was getting his bearings, another wet, thick-sounding sneeze forced its way out of him. 

“Bless you.”

Jonah rolled over, facing away from Lily and feeling dizzily around the bedside for the box of tissues, or a hanky, anything there to catch the sudden abundance of mess he’d just sneezed all over himself. His entire head felt heavy, and his sinuses were aching. Sitting up made his head hurt. He felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Here, babe,” she said softly. Soon his long fingers were squeezing around a handkerchief.

“RRAAHh’CHHIUEWW!!!” Lily winced a little. The one had just sounded so wet, and any attempts to sniffle did nothing, leaving him to sigh and hurry to lift the handkerchief over his swollen, dripping nose. “AASSCHhiu!!-EEISSCHHhh!!”

“Bless you.”

Jonah sat there, panting. The poor thing. A bead of sweat rolled down his face. Lily could hear his weary, heavy breathing as he wiped his face. She lifted the backs of her finger to feel his forehead.

“-hhhh… hHehhhh… HAAAESSCHHHhh!!!”

“Bless you. Ohh, dear. Yup, that’s a fever.”

“HRR’AASSCHHIOOO!!! ....ngh..” 

“Bless you. Here. Breathe in for me.”

Jonah took in a tight, shaky breath. His sore, sensitive sinuses were burning. He needed to blow his nose badly, or his head was going to burst. The attempt at it made an awful noise - the congestion that sat heavily in his sinuses was restricting, and there was so much mucus, an ungodly amount. The handkerchief was damp by the time he finished blowing. 

“ahh’CHIEWW!!hhh….” God, he shouldn’t have blown that hard. The sneeze that it triggered was sudden and scraped across his throat. 

“Bless you, poor thing,” Lily murmured.

“*sngk!* D-Deed- hUHt’CHIEWWw!!!” He winced and rubbed at his nose with the hanky. “g’hh… h-heiHhh?? HAAEESSSCHHiuhh!!-’ISSCHH!!!-CHH!!-TCHHhh!!!”

Oh no. They were coming rapidly again. And they still sounded wet, if not wetter, soaking the humble handkerchief in his hands. Lily reached toward the bedside table and opened the drawer. She found a good, thick handkerchief and touched it to Jonah’s hand. He took it eagerly and shakily lowered the soaked cloth in his hands. Lily caught a glimpse of his red, chapped nostrils, which flared wide again before pitching forward into the fresh cloth.

“YY’AASSCHHIEWW!!!”

“Bless you, sweetie.”

“*snrgk* Thagk you,” he barely croaked. He blew his nose again, cautiously, then emerged with a sniff.

Lily ran her fingers through his loose, frizzy curls. “Want ice?” she breathed.

Jonah nodded. Lily moved towards the other bedside table and reached for the thermos. She opened it and shook some ice into an empty cold pack she’d left there just in case.

“hdt!‘CHIUEWW!!! *snrk! snnnrk~*”

“Bless you.”

“rr’SSCHHIEWWw!! -nnh, *sddrff!*”

“Bless-“

“EEEISSCHHIEWWww!!! *snNrgk!* ‘b so sorry, 'scuse be.” Jonah kept sniffling liquidly. His poor nose just kept running, gushing mess with each itchy sneeze.

Lily gave his thigh a small rub. “Shhhh, you’re okay.” 

He gave another thick, flooding blow into the hanky, and lowered it, panting softly. His eyes were still sunken and hazy with sleep. He looked ready to return to his slumber - then Lily turned to him with the ice pack.

“Here, hun.” Jonah snuffled softly and peeked over at her. “Lie down?”

He did just that, exhaling heavily as his back flattened onto on the mattress. Lily placed the small ice pack on his forehead, and watched his flushed features loosen.

“That good?”

Still panting slightly, he nodded. It felt so good that he could’ve fallen asleep then and there, but-

“I’ll grab you some Tylenol, okay?” Lily leaned down to kiss his warm temple. His bleary eyes followed her as she got out of bed. She came back to the bed and sat by him. “Here. Can you sit up?”

[‘I’m taken, taken, taken…’]

“It’s just a moment, and you can go back to sleep.”

A soft groan of effort tickled Jonah’s scratchy throat, as he pushed his aching body into an upright position. There was some ease as Lily’s hand touched his shoulder. Her thumb grazed over the fabric of his shirt as he downed the two pills in a wrenching gulp. 

Not saying much else, her hand moved to brush back his hair. She left a kiss on his clammy forehead, and murmured for him to lay back down.

[‘And it’s her It’s her that brings me there.’ Jonah looks up from the ground towards the camera. His lips muster a gentle grin, and he reaches over to stop the recording.]

[leighsartworks216]

You Are Mine. Never Forget It.

Ascended Astarion x gn!Spawn!Tav/Reader

This is my first ever Ascended Astarion fic and of course it's spicy. If it's OOC idc

Based on Astarion's new kiss

SPICE BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: ascended Astarion, dom/sub, obedience/controlling, blood, blood drinking

Word Count: 616

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form <- Fill this out if you want to be tagged

You sat in the middle of the bed on your knees, hands folded in your lap. You'd been waiting here for so long, but it was all worth it when the door opened and he came sauntering in.

Astarion smirked wickedly as he circled the bed. Dark crimson eyes dragged over your deliciously nude body, drinking you in. His lovely little pet.

"How long have you been waiting here, little thing?" he purred.

You swallowed, keeping your eyes forward as he bed dipped beside you. If your heart still beat, it would have been pounding against your ribcage. "An hour."

"Is that so?"

His nose brushed your skin as he leaned his face down to your shoulder, lips ghosting by but never lingering. A hand slid along your side, thumbing a nipple before it glided between your legs. You bit back a whimper.

His lips grazed your ear as he spoke. "And you've been thinking about me this whole time?"

You nodded and he growled.

"Use your words, pet. I want to hear you say it."

You nearly moaned out, "Yes." Of course you'd been thinking about him this whole time. You fantasized about how he'd react when he found you, what he'd do to you until you were begging for release or mercy - or both. You shivered just thinking about it.

"Hm, perhaps I should reward you for being so patient." His fingers deftly, teasingly, slid along your sex, all the while he studied your face. You fought not to give in to the minimal pleasure, to be a good little thing while he played with you. "What would you like for your reward, my treasure? Just say the word, and it's yours."

You swallowed again, digging a nail into your thigh just to keep you grounded. Softly, almost embarrassed to request it, you asked, "A kiss?"

He chuckled low against your ear. "Is that all, pet?" He nipped your earlobe with his fang, drawing out a little drop of blood. It tasted like fire on his tongue. "As you wish."

His hand left your sex and trailed up your stomach before grabbing your chin. He was met with no resistance when he turned your face toward him. Your eyes tried to stay locked on his, but you couldn't stop looking at his lips, which curled in a smirk.

He tugged you forward and captured your mouth. He seemed to turn utterly ravenous as he bit and sucked your lips, tongue pressing into your mouth and claiming ever inch he could reach for himself. Every gasp and whimper and moan was swallowed up by him. And all too soon it was over.

Roughly pulling you away with his hold on your chin, he looked down at you with eyes darkened by lust. You always had this effect on him. Just your smell was enough to drive him into a frenzy, until he was satisfied he'd claimed you over and over and over again. You were his. You'd never forget it.

He tilted your head side to side, studying the planes of your face, though he couldn't begin to look away from your kiss-swollen lips, slowly starting to bruise. He thrilled thinking about you draining some pathetic whelp, about the blood rushing through your system and flushing you all pretty and deepening the bruises he left behind. Oh, how he would relish that.

"I'm going to have you," he said lowly, trailing his lips along your cheek, "in every single way I can imagine." You whimpered involuntarily, and he rewarded it with a nip along your jaw. "Until you can't stand, can't think, can't speak - is that understood, pet?"

"Yes," you gasped.

He grinned roguishly. "Good."

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted @bongwaterflavoredgatorade

[zargontari]

hehehehehe

Trick-or-Treat! I have come knocking on your Tumblr door asking for a treat. 🕯️ You can answer with a meme, a bit of art, a snippet of a fic you’re writing, a fic recommendation, pictures of candy, or something else! (Don’t post this ask until October 31. 🖤) Then you can go knocking on another mutual’s Tumblr door. 🦇

Happy Halloween! 🎃👻

Snippet of a WIP!

Pairing: Bill/Ford

Warnings: implied/referenced self harm, obsessive thoughts, writing in the second person

You have not heard from Bill Cipher for two weeks and three days. You are not counting. You deliberately try not to count.

Instead, you work your fingers to the bone with the paneling. The portal is becoming a true structure, by this point — a marvel of science and engineering by any standards, standing proud and talk and nearly infallible except by human error — but is still, largely, uncovered; wiring and circuity is clearly exposed along every edge. The innate magic, held together by carefully inscribed runes splashed with Bill's own blood to power them, dances and sparks along the inner walls as it currents around and around the sleek machinery that shines sleek and bright in the relative darkness of the large room. The panel in your hands digs into the space where your palms connect to your fingers.

Your eyes catch the watch on your wrist as you move the panel. 01:20. Four days.

You're not counting.

You drop the piece of paneling to the ground and walk to the elevator. Your heart points heavily, so hard and fast that it aches in your chest. Really, the whole of you is an ache; even weeks later, Bill's use of your body is obvious, leaving you with an awkward, left-leaning limp that you're really hoping goes away. He would have told you if he'd broken you — he enjoys it whenever you struggle to accept a broken bone, though these days your protests have died down and down until you have very little to say on the subject anymore — so without that morbid confirmation you're left assured that, at the very least, your skeleton is mostly unharmed. The pain is manageable. You exhale shakily whenever you lean against the elevator door. All pain is manageable. That is what Bill tells you, and so that must be what is true.

The second floor of the building is harder to get to than the others. Part of this is due to the design of the building, as it was built over one large, deeper cavern, with only that one basement in mind, but was later given the addition of a second connection to a smaller, longer tunnel, courtesy of Bill. The other part is your own paranoia. You do not trust anyone except for yourself around your most secret place, including and perhaps especially not even Fiddleford.

Your partner is someone you care a lot about (you'd been overjoyed to have him join the project!) but you worry for his dedication to the project. You hear that his commitment to your common goal is not so strong as your own. — or, at least, Bill worries it, and you understand the concern. He is right to be wary, of course: he has waited perhaps millions of years for this portal to be constructed, and he has very understandably tired of waiting. He cannot stand delays. You rub your wrist at the thought, which still aches from the most recent break. Bill had not been pleased with your progress as of late. You had tried to convince him that there was no harm meant, and you had only hit a snag, but—

You step through the doors as the light turns green and they slide apart from one another. Your hip aches sharply enough that you toss a hand onto the wall to balance yourself whenever you move down the hallway, and the pain reminds you of another truth: Bill Cipher does not tolerate excuses, either.

The room that the long tunnel opens up to is perhaps the most important in the entire house: a space dedicated solely to Bill. You have laid candles in a circle along the floor for meditation, and Bill's likeness covers every wall. Some of it is official: things you had found while studying your muse. The rest is your own. Pencil, coal, chalk and ink. Most uncolored, but a few startlingly golden. Almost no room remains for the wall, and, while the ceiling is normally illuminated by one swinging lantern, there is no light tonight. You always put the fire out whenever you leave as a safety precaution, which is funny, distantly, because whenever you hold match to wick and the glass dome floods the room with light, it perfectly encapsulates the sheer amount of blood on the floor.

Dried blood, to be fair. You have not been in this room for a few days, now, and you had not been bleeding the last time you were. Still, though, it is never cleaned — Bill seems to enjoy the reminders, and the smell — so the splotches have dried, and, in some places, rusted wherever the red touches metal. It leaves the room thickly smelling of copper and meat; the latter mostly unexplained, as the blood joins only the former stench. The splatters, streaks, and pools do not reach the walls, though they have stained the candles red, which you light with the same match as the lantern. You stand for a moment, tensely watching the fires, until your fingers begin to burn. A glance down: the match has burnt to nothing in your fingers. Still, you do nothing but watch as red splotches form before the fire burns to nothing, unable to feed itself upon your hand. It aches. It makes you feel a little better as though, by the mere act of feeling pain, you are a little closer to your muse, who so often demands it of you.

Demands.

As if it is something that you do not give freely. As if it is not his to call upon; as if you are more than a vessel of His will. From now until the end of time indeed. Except for the glaringly obvious part where he has abandoned you. It rankles you, sits deep in you, rots in you like the floorboards in your bedroom have begun to. Perhaps abandonment is not the right word, you think, suddenly, with a feeling as though you are about to be struck. Your muse is, of course, allowed to come and go as he pleases. If he finds you uninteresting or distasteful, then it is not up to you to tell him that he cannot. Denial is not a right that you posses. It is a privilege that you have lost.

... Still. The knowledge sits as heavily in your guts as a corpse. You cannot help but to feel adrift at sea, lost and unmoored. Each passing second with no sign of your sun only serves to deepen the well of panic that began to rise the moment that he left you the last time. You are dependant; he is your God. Your parents had had a different god, and perhaps you had known it once, but now you have found your true God and he is the one who's name is Bill Cipher. Let all other false deities burn. Let all other idols crumble and decay. You will sit at his feet until the whole of your reality is fixated on the singular point at which He resides. If His light burns you, if it chars out your eyes until your vision melts away, then— good. To know a God as intimately as you do is to know how and when to sacrifice for Him.

A sacrifice.

You sit at the center of the ring of flames. Your body is a tool, a fact that you’ve grown increasingly intimate with as you and Bill have become more entangled. Violence, sex — often as bloody as the violence itself — and pain are now as familiar to you as your extra extremities. They are instruments to be wielded, as Bill had reminded you, time and time again. The body is simply another means to get what you want. The body is property. And yours belongs to him.

Under normal circumstances, that ownership would mean that what you are about to do would be considered wrong, or some kind of defilement. Your hand clenches around the knife that you do not recall ever picking up. It is a defilement, of sorts — a desecration of the only body you will ever have. But is not pain synonymous to love in the eyes of gods? All pain is worth the cost so long as it means something, and your worth lies in he who bids you to bleed. A sacrifice, then, of your body, would not blaspheme his ownership over you; your bloodshed is, instead, only further proof of his claim.

So, in this case, it is warranted. A cry for attention, perhaps, but the roil in your intestines has not ceased since the moment that he left, and you cannot imagine any kind of continuation wherein he remains gone. You are, at your core, now, bound to him. Whenever he is gone, you are a dwindling flame that dins closer to nothing with every passing second. An empty vessel; a cordless puppet. You realize that you are breathing heavily, and force deep breaths through your aching lungs. Bill is gone. That is a fact that you cannot dispute. He is gone, and you do not know why or for what reason, and he has not heeded any of your beckons to return.

But, perhaps, there is another way to get his attention. You remove your shirt. A sight that you have grown used to greets you: your chest is hardly more than a single wound, at this point, with its myriad of greening bruises. It pains you to breathe, but you do not think that your ribs are anything more than cracked, or Bill would not have left you with them. Or so you hope, anyway. The crowning glory of your most recent wounds is on your right arm; deep in the flesh, and only barely scabbed, is a triangle. Bill had done that one himself, though, unlike the markings along your chest, it was no accident. You had been awake for this one. Heat tinges your cheeks at the memory.

That had been over two weeks ago now. The wound has scabbed, but not healed, and even that scab seems sickly. What is covered is mottled over in an ugly green-purple cover, and the exposed flesh weeps. There is a stench; you do not know much of wounds and injury, but you know infection, and this has only grown worse and worse. Swelling makes the carving look deeper than it is, and the whole thing hurts more than you can stand to touch. You pass your knuckles in front of it and can feel the heat. You had thought, at first, to try and wrap it, but Bill had said very specifically to leave it alone, and you could not stand the thought of invoking his ire, so you have not gone any farther than splashing water on it. Even that, you can hardly stand now.

You turn your attention away from your shoulder. Bill had left that mark there for you to keep, and so you will not mess with it, but the rest of your body is a soft, open canvas. Months of intermittent, mostly accidental fasting have left your body scrawnier than you had been willing to allow yourself to be before— but that was before. Before Gravity Falls, before this shack, before Bill Cipher. Every part of your life is a before, except for him. Everything else, and then only Him. You share a goal, and he shares your mind. He owns your body, and you hold a small part of his attention. The deal is mutually beneficial. Your deal is your lifeline to feeling alive. You had been dead before his light shone upon you; you had been nothing before he allowed you to give yourself to him. He had filled your empty spirit. He had shown you the path to life, and you have seen the truth; for life to continue, there must be pain. For pain, there must be something to bleed for.

You have found someone to bleed for. You have been remade and repossessed. You have found a purpose in Him; He a home in you.

It is time to call Him back.

[ryan-is-a-god]

Alastor and Nifty Crimes 🪡

The Alastor fanfic I'm writing is fairly dark so I'm unsure if I'll ever post it. However, the first scene is essentially the ostrich meme so I thought I'd share.

"oh oh sir! Look what I found! It's a bad boy~~. Can I keep him!?" Nifty cackled fiendishly, as she stabbed her needle into a towering 9ft tall shark demon's shoulder.

The man shrieked in pain and confusion while Alastor lightly covered his mouth to chuckle at Nifty's shenanigans. The shark managed to get loose of Nifty's grasp, flinging her to the ground. A mistake on his part Alastor though amused, watching Nifty dig her sharp legs into the ground for a running start, your only getting her excited.

"Ohh~ I like it when bad boys play rough~" she cackled manically as she lunged at the danmed soul, her needle piercing his ribs. Nifty wasn't really leaving much to keep of the demon, as she stabbed him repeatedly.

"Now now, my dear Nifty, you have plenty of toys at home, and this one is already so broken~" Alastor replied in a sing-song tone, feigning sorrow as he spoke the later part.

Nifty stopped stabbing the man to stare at Alastor with puppy dog eyes and a frown, as though that was going to make the radio demon change his mind. She even threw in a quivering lip to seal the deal. Alastor sighed, leaning forward onto his staff, "How about we make a deal, you can keep his skeleton, and I'll eat his flesh? Haven't had fish in a while, not my favorite meal, but it'll do".

Nifty yelled, "DEAL!" while she shook her head so enthusiastically it looked as though it might dislodge from her neck. The shark man made some pathetic attempt at a plea but it was drowned out by Nifty's repeated stabbings and loud laughter.

____

"You two are back early." Veggie commented before turning around to see Alastor sauntere in with a carcus slung over his shoulder dripping blood everywhere. Nifty climbed up on Alastor's other shoulder carrying a strange skull and kicking her legs joyfully. She looked like she was trying to put the skull on her head while giggling happily.

"Um what do you got there?" Veggie asked pointing a finger in Alastor's direction, once she fully saw what a mess they'd tracked in. Alastor turned towards Nifty and then looked back at Veggie to respond, "Well, that's just Nifty.".

Even though the overlord is always smiles, Veggie could tell he was wearing a shit eating grin. Before she could clarify what she meant, Alastor chimed in again, "oh! You mean this!"

[delicioushologramperson]

Hmmmm, how about "Stasis Shield" for the meme? /chinhands 💖

Copy and paste straight from the Google Doc, still very much in the draft stage, an idea where:

Billy's archeologist parents (their background in the original comics) were metas with shielding and stasis abilities. Mary, his twin sister, could jump ahead in time towards a planned event, such as her parents coming back to the hotel used by the expedition they are currently in.

Which would allow the whole family to come back home without removing the angst of what happened to Billy.

C.C. Batson and his brother Ebenezer both had stasis abilities.

With C.C. using his in concert with Marylin's shielding to protect their archaeological digs and the people within them as needed. And Ebenezer using his to skip on waiting time, preserve his teeth, and prevent his house from aging, accumulate more dust, or grow colder in his absence.

So, Black Adam, going back to his grave years or decades, let's go with decades here, after freeing himself from it, dig it up a bit, maybe with some of his entourage, he is the leader of Khandaq after all, and see a part of Marylin's shield peeking out.

It's still holding thanks to C.C. stasis keeping everything and everyone within the shield from changing. It won't budge until the situation around the shield no longer threaten the people it protects.

The expedition is freed by Black Adam's efforts in getting to the bottom of what the hell is going on with his grave, and all the Khandaqis present are faced with the uneasy realization that the man who claim to be responsible for the stasis field looks and sounds like he could be Captain Marvel's twin brother.

They go to the hotel location and pick up Mary. Who appeared on a pile of the expedition belongings as soon as her parents entered the room she had made the time jump in.

Then it's back to Fawcett asap, with transportation, as well as lawyers paid for by Black Adam, who really doesn't want them to still be there once Billy learns of their continued existence.

He knows that there will be hugs, and doesn't want to be within grabbinging range when the young Champion catch sight of his long gone family.

Due to his own stasis shenanigans, Ebenezer has skipped enough time to still be alive, if quite a bit older, when his brother come to him for answers on Billy's whereabouts.

Dr Sivana isn't happy either, because now he has to pay the expedition he financed. With both interest and adjustement for inflation included to limit the risks of having the stunts he pulled against Billy mentioned at a trial.

Or maybe both Ebenezer and Sivana get to face trial and lose a lot of money as a result.

I really like the idea of Ebenezer and Sivana seeing that Billy's parents are back and having their hair, existant or not, go up in fright.

But I don't know what to do with C.C. and Marilyn in Fawcett past this and Billy pouncing on them for a big pick them off the ground hug.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Hiii, can u make a one shot of having a beach day with powder 🐢?

(Yo! Sorry this took so long but I also was lazy and didn't write a oneshot, just headcannons. This may get a oneshot in the future tho. I also a sorta modern au? Anyways, enjoy!)

Let me get this clear, it's the most fun, chaotic and blood pressure spiking day anyone in this family has ever endured

Vander packed food, Benzo packed essentials, and Silco watched them pack while buying shit for his favorite niece Powder

But Silco forces everyone to wear sunscreen

Powder liked collecting the seashells around

She had like this toy sifter and would go around and sift out the sand to find those little sand bugs and seashells

Vi goes out and collects sea shells for her sister out farther from shore

Powder 10/10 loves the wildlife around there

She finds a crab and throws it at you.

Names it Jeremiah, gives him a mission, and throws him at you

There is no mercy.

She and you dig a hole, a giant one at that

She saw a video online where you cover it with a towel and wait

Your victims were Vi and Ekko

They both just walked over and BOOM

Both their asses down in the ground

Vi was yelling at you guys as she had to lit Ekko out to go get Vander

And you guys dug a MASSIVE hole

A deep one too so much so that Vander laughed so hard when he saw Vi down there

Had to pull her up with Benzos help

Ekko found it funny while Vi did not

Vi chased you both around for the longest time before you both hid from her with Silco

Man's was determined to hide you both, you guys are his favorite

He doesn't hide it either

Powder love, love LOVES making elaborate sand castles

It's a full on job

She forces everyone to participate

It's like a construction site

Forces everyone to have a job

And if anyone breaks a part or messed up, Powder is scary man

Takes her sand castles very seriously

Powder also burries you in the sand

Promises to get you out but doesn't hold up her promise

She finds Jeremiah and leaves him there with you as your stuck in the ground

Vi also picks up Powder and body slams her sister into the big ass waves crashing into them

Powder nearly drowns and has to be saved because she inhaled salt water

A better part of the day is going under water for a minute with goggles on and laying on the sand while looking up through the waves

It's so pretty and she loves it while she can before you both have to go up for air

Powder is that child to be playing mermaids with

She gives the game lore and everything

She finds seaweed and stares at Mylo for a hot minute before she chases after him with it

Mylo hates seaweed with a burnjng passion, the feeling of it is just his major ick

Powder is also one to play chicken fight with you

She's on Vi's shoulders while you are on Claggor's

She loses

And Powder is PETTY asf

She almost drowns you guys with water guns while she forces Vander to be on her side

Vander is just happy to torture his kids

In a fun way tho it's okay sweetie

Also, right when everyone starts to pack up for the day and head home

Vander does a head count and misses three people

You, Powder and Ekko were all missing

Most definitely had an "Oh, shit." Moment

Silco is yelling, Vi is panicking, Benzo is looking for his kid, Claggors is having a panic attack, and Mylo couldn't give two shits

Less kids to annoy him

But he is the one to first point it out

"Found them."

"Where?!" 

Everyone just watched as he points out to sea and looked in horror to see you, Powder and Ekko drifting away on a watermelon floatie

Ekko is waving happily and Powders playing ship captain and you're paddling away with your feet

Que everyone having to run out and swim to go get your asses

Once you gets almost drowned, get scolded, Silco breaks it up

"How dare you yell at them!"

That's him all the time

Is the meme of the dad holding his kid in towels as everyone is just annoyed

But out of everything, it was an amazing day with the people you love most

Vander just needs to now take blood pressure medication

Vi won't let Powder go

Ekkos grounded, but happily

Mylo still couldn't give two shits

Silcos proud

Benzo found it funny

And Claggor is in therapy

You? 

Powder brought Jeremiah back

…run.

[delta-pavonis]

Your answer for pet names in the drummer/dancer dreamling was so sweet I loved it. How about slow dancing in the same universe, or any other wip too

FIVE people, including you Nonny, have asked for this pairing with slow dancing. So, @likephysics, @honeyteacakes, @iprefertheterminsane, and @charlottemairi this is also for you (with bonus hand kisses for @honeyteacakes and singing/humming for @likephysics)

Prompt meme is here.

The fire in the large, low metal bowl (a precaution against any of the flora catching and igniting with how dry it has gotten the further the caravan travels) has faded to all but embers and the rest of the clan has gone to bed when Morpheus drags Hob over to the open space.

Yes, quite literally drags as the drummer has dropped his center of mass and is trying to dig his heels in like a petulant child. Morpheus rolls his eyes and lets go so that Hob falls with a yelp onto his ass, causing a small plume of dust to puff up around him.

Only adding to his childish sulk, Hob crosses his arms and looks up to his lover with a grimace. "I do not dance." He snaps but seems to immediately realize that he sounds quite harsh and looks away.

Undeterred, Morpheus steps forward so that his feet are between Hob's. With a gentle touch he turns his lover's face up to him. "And before you first tapped your fingers on something you did not drum." Hob's eyes narrow at him for he knows that there is no suitable argument to counter that. So, when Morpheus opens his hands to Hob, palms up, the drummer can do naught but take them.

The sword dancer has far more strength in his lithe frame than most anyone gives him credit for and it is a small task to pull Hob up to standing by his own power alone. They end up almost chest-to-chest and Hob leans in to place a peck of a kiss to Morpheus' lips.

"You cannot convince me to stop this with your lips, Hob."

Morpheus regrets it the moment the sentence leaves his mouth because Hob's eyes blaze to life like they have stolen the last sparks from the campfire. His eyebrows move in what someone has no doubt told him is a flirtatious wiggle and he crowds into Morpheus' space. "Wanna bet?"

The dancer should have stretched properly before this endeavor because he is going to pull a damned muscle if he rolls his eyes any harder.

Actually, wait, this could work. Morpheus smirks. "Yes. Yes I do want to bet." He has to bite down on a laugh as Hob looks a little startled - he has yet to realize how a wager can pique Morpheus' interests. "I will make you enjoy a bit of dancing before you can distract me away from it with your lips." Hob goes to speak and is interrupted. "But our pants must stay on and you must keep both your feet on the ground."

Hob's lips form a thin line and Morpheus feels a little swell of pride for himself for catching both of the loopholes that Hob was clearly thinking of. Then Hob actually takes a moment to think, which Morpheus honestly does find a bit impressive, as impulsive as his lover can be. "Alright, pants on, feet down. But no dancing that involves grinding your pretty cock or pert little ass up against me. If I am going to do this, I want real dancing."

Morpheus can tell his own smile has gone from happy to predatory by the glint in Hob's eyes and the slightest waver in his cocksure grin. The bard steps back and bows low, all courtly grace, bringing one of Hob's hands close to his lips. He looks up at Hob through his lashes and drops his voice low. "I would never dream of engaging in such lewd behavior with you, Sirrah." Holding Hob's gaze, Morpheus opens his mouth and lets the tip of his tongue touch Hob's knuckles before pressing a rather obscene kiss there.

"Oh," Hob's voice is a little breathless and he blushes bright enough that Morpheus can see the ruddy color even in the low light. "Just so we're on the same page here, we are playing for a favor yes?"

Morpheus nods. This is the default custom amongst the caravan cultures, for services are worth far more than gold out here. "Do we have a wager?" He asks, lips brushing Hob's skin with each word.

Hob shakes his head vigorously before replying. "Yeah. Yes. I believe we do."

He knows he is showing too many teeth when he smiles. "Excellent." Morpheus stands up straight while still holding Hob's hand. "One question, does the dancing I perform count as real dancing to you?"

The drummer blinks as he realizes that he is caught in a trap: he either belittles the entirety of Morpheus' art or he allows Morpheus to proceed knowing how suggestive some of his dancing can be. "Yes. It is real."

"Good answer." Morpheus purrs as he turns his back to Hob, leaving a good eighteen inches between them. He shrugs out of his tunic and drops it to the side. He can hear Hob start to protest. "Not my pants. And you will need to be able to see my torso and hips in order to mimic what I am doing." Hob's teeth clack when his mouth shuts.

Morpheus reaches back, grabbing one of Hob's hands and placing the palm on the crest of his hip, splaying his fingers wide and pointing towards Morpheus' center, his thumb curved around his back. He repeats with Hob's other hand.

The sword dancer raises his own arms above his head, elongating the whole of his body, and Hob curses behind him. "This is cheating. Somehow, this is cheating."

He ignores his lover's mutterings. "Now, feet close together, you want to move your hips like this. One... Two... Three." He slowly rocks his hips side-to-side with each number and he can hear Hob panting. "Your knees should glide diagonally across, so right knee to the left, left to the right. One... Two... Three. One... Two... Three." Morpheus spins in Hob's grasp, lowers his arms to rest his wrists on Hob's shoulders now that they are facing each other. "One... Two... Three." He repeats, keeping it slow.

Hob is staring at the movement of Morpheus' hips and hot-cold lightning burns through the dancer's veins at how entranced Hob is after just this. It feels far too good to be the subject of this man's regard.

"Do it with me. One... Two... Three." He bites down on a giggle as Hob stutters through it. "Alright, here," Morpheus moves his hands to Hob's hips in a mirror of his own grip. "One... Two... Three." With each number he presses on Hob's hips to move him further left and right than before. "Good. One... Two... Three." Now his uses his hands to smooth the movement. "One... Two... Three. One... Two... Three. You keep going."

Morpheus starts humming a gentle beat and Hob, to his credit, keeps moving his hips to it, even when Morpheus starts weaving forwards and back in addition to side to side. Hob does not, however, look up.

"So," He tangles his fingers in Hob's hair as he hums. "You were going to distract me with your lips?"

Hob growls and pulls Morpheus against him, flush from thighs to chest, hips still moving. "I made a deal with a devil, didn't I?" Morpheus laughs into Hob's neck, holding on as they slowly grind against each other, range of motion limited now that their hips are so perfectly slotted together. "Fine. You win, you damned incubus."

[osleeplessflowero]

this is my one day to meme. time to take advantage of it <3 cursed content up ahead :33 i've actually had this idea in my head for months but wasn't sure when the appropriate time would be to work on it - gender neutral. he'll call you babygirl no matter what gender you are

You thought it was Sans. You could've sworn it was when you first spoke with it. But that THING..it scares you.

It unraveled its form in phases, the final being something truly nightmarish.. something you will never unsee again.

Its taunting laughter echoes through the forest as you run, eyes widened in fear and your hand over where your soul would be. Why? Why you? WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE YOU?! This is the WORST encounter you've had to date!

His thundering footsteps echo as he moves, Sans' iconic laughter coming from its mouth.

"you can't hide from me forever, b a b y g i r l..running is pointless."

You vaguely see his silhouette in the distance, a tall MASSIVE form..

"Get the FUCK away from me and go back to 2017 WHERE YOU BELONG-"

"oh no.. they've had plenty of time with you..now it's MY turn." He pushes two trees apart with his bulky arms, beginning to walk towards you menacingly. "did you really think you could escape from me?.. i will always linger in the back of your mind."

"Stop this, just leave me be! I don't want you!" You shout, continuing to run. His bulky body's bones shine under the moonlight, his body morphing and twisting in ways it really shouldn't.

"just give it up. come to me-" "SHUT THE FUCK-" "you know, you're making this a lot harder than it needs to be."

You've tried everything. You've tried shooting it, that didn't work. You tried slashing at it, that didn't work either. You tried calling the police, they laughed and hung up on you. What are you supposed to do?

"it's okay to be a little cringe, babygirl..just embrace it. embrace me. you know you've missed me."

"It's okay to be a little cringe, but not THIS FAR BACK. I don't even know how you got here!" You hold up your phone, trying to call whoever you can.

"c'mon..aren't you lonely? wouldn't you like to be embraced by my big, strong arms?" He holds his arms out, the space now open for them since he's pushed quite a few trees out of the way.

"Hell no???" You groan when they hang up on you again. "Just go away! Go find someone else to bother!"

"oh no..i couldn't do that. you're the one for me, and i'm the one for you, whether you like it or not. just accept your fate."

You feel a strange sensation in your chest, looking down to see your..now blue soul. Oh god oh fuck oh g-

He begins to drag you towards him unsettlingly slowly, the glowing heart shaped eyelights of his all you can see. You claw desperately at the ground, digging your nails into the dirt and screaming.

"NONONONONO-"

A bone is hurled down from the sky, hitting the creature and distracting him enough for him to let go of you.

"who DARES to-"

"okay, i've seen my fair share of mischaracterizations, but this is ridiculous." Sans sits atop a floating bone, pointing at the creature.

"Sans!" You shout, relieved that he's here and running over once he lands, standing behind him. "That thing pretended to be you and it was really weird and-" Your face resembles a crying cat for a few seconds.

"it's alright, i'm here. and whatever.. that is has gotta go." He twirls a bone in his hand as the creature stands back up, cracking its knuckles and shifting forms.

It now stands before the two of you with a form that's almost identical to Sans, but with slightly incorrect features like his teeth slanting upwards, heart shaped eyelights, and..his head vaguely resembles a peanut from certain angles.

"..you believed this thing was me?" "I DIDN'T SEE THE SIGNS AT FIRST." :C

"everybody knows i am the one they want." "..denial is a river in egypt-"

The two begin fighting, a cartoony cloud of smoke surrounding them accompanied by bonks and squeaky toy sound effects. You hold your hands together, intertwined as you pray that Sans defeats this monster.

Eventually the smoke clears, leaving one skeleton standing above the other and dusting off his hands, walking back over to you.

"y'know, despite all those muscles he was weak as hell. you okay? he didn't do anything, did he?" "No, just kinda dragged my soul a bit but that was right before you got here." "okay, at least you weren't hurt. how about i treat you to some nice cream to make up for this?" He puts his arm around your shoulders. Unless you're taller than him, then he'll settle for your waist.

"yeah, that sounds nice, thanks sans." You smile, walking with him. "anytime.." He finds himself cracking up. "babygirl-" "Call me that again and I will fucking end you-"

He bursts out into laughter as you both exit the scene.

A figure sits up from the ground, putting his hand on his skull. Oh no..you're not getting away that easily.

[shmowder]

This has been on my mind since I originally saw that meme but why is dankovsky canceling my credit card? And is it somehow related in anyway to my credit card having been stolen by someone else? I have to know the credit card lore! Better yet what if I stole his credit card? What’s he gonna do? Cancel it?

Also secondary question where would the patho women fall on the scale of credit card theft,being the credit card and canceling the card…wanna bet that Maria would be somewhere on the stealing credit card spectrum that seems like something she’d do

The last row is supposed to include people who hold the power to cancel your credit card without your knowledge or approval. So the town governor, the nation wide famous doctor and lastly the magical reality altering conscious plague. I would've added Georgiy in there wasn't it for him sadly not meeting the requirements of whoring enough.

But your version sounds fun ngl, the first row steals your credit card, the second row is your spare credit card in the meantime and the third takes it upon themselves to cancel it before the fraudulent charges come in.

If you stole Dankovsky credit card you'll return it soon enough because of the huge amount of bills and borrowed money he has on it. Funding an entire lab ain't cheap, he was going broke and running out of funds by the time the powers that be decided to get on his case, which is why he got desperate enough to travel to the town.

Why he wanted to "earn fame" so bad by creating the first ever vaccine to the sand plague. BECAUSE THAT'S THE ONLY SOURCE OF INCOME HE KNOWS. What could a doctor in thanatology ever help you with? who would even book consultations or appointments with him? Why do you think he also specialised in vaccines? Thanatica wasn't putting bread on the table, that's why.

Maira: She only steals it because she tried to cancel it first but failed so this was her plan B

Anna: Old habits die hard... she might feel bad later if you're friends and pretend to have "found it" on the ground before returning it.

Aspity: no remorse.

-

Yulia: She worked for the inquisiton before and she is currently employed by the Olgimskays to sit around and do nothing. She is rich, in fact I think she was a trust fund kid, she just never flaunts her money around. She donates to Lara's shetler in P1 which shows she has large amounts of spare money.

Lara: She is in fact actually rich in canon! The only daughter to an army general, it makes sense. But she gave all of her money and belongings away once her father passed. Established a shelter and literally donated everything she owns, now she lives humbly.

Victoria: there weren't enough milf characters so we had to dig her up from the grave alongside Nina.

-

Aglaya: She more than has the power to cancel it. In fact, she can cancel your birth certificate and passport as well. She can even cancel your subscription to life with one order.

Katerina: She doesn't have the power, but her husband does. All she needs to do is go cry to him about it, and he'll immediately fold.

Nina: She has the mystical powers to cancel it. Your charges keep getting declined and your account is frozen. Your bank doesn't know what's wrong because everything is fine on paper.

-

Wasn't there space left for Eva but if I had included it her it would be in the "Babygirl x Steals your credit card" square. She does it by accident tbf, she is just used to people handing her money, food, expensive drinks, their credit cards and everything she could ever want. You leave it on the table and she assumes it's a gift for her.

[veliseraptor]

going to be on a plane on sunday so guess what time it is, it's 150 words meme time

send me up to three numbers and I'll write 150 words in the wip of your choosing! excerpts/options under the cut

1. :You were trying to grow things?: Song Lan said, picturing the dismal courtyard of the coffin house as he’d seen it. The faintest touch of a flush colored Xingchen’s cheeks. 

“I wanted a garden,” he said, almost defensively.

“And you did get one,” Xue Yang said. “Sort of. But only you could get anything to come up out of that ground, Daozhang.” There was a kind of forced cheer in his voice that didn’t quite disguise the wistfulness.

There was, briefly, just the flicker of a smile on Xingchen’s face. It vanished quickly, but it’d been there. “I suppose it’s gone now,” he said.

“I tried keeping it up,” Xue Yang said, “but I’m about as good at gardening as you are at cooking.” There was a strange gentleness to his voice, though, belying the insult. Xingchen’s face still fell, though. Song Lan winced.

“No,” Xingchen said, his voice colder. “You had no skill with living things.”

Xue Yang’s face fell, too. “I tried,” he said again, but Xingchen turned his face away and fell silent, closed off once again. (Life After Death)

2. “Don’t fucking–” 

“Vegas,” Pete said. 

“Do that,” Vegas snapped, fingernails digging into his palms. 

“You’re still healing,” Pete said. “The doctor said–” 

“I don’t give a shit what the fucking doctor said,” Vegas said, his voice starting to rise. “I should be able to–” 

Should be able to what? You can’t do anything. Useless, pathetic, waste of space.

He wanted to scream. He wasn’t going to scream. 

Pete didn’t deserve Vegas ripping into him about something that wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was going to walk away eventually but Vegas didn’t have to give him reasons to make it sooner. (post canon vegaspete long fic)

3. The first time, Vegas died next to the pool. Pete didn’t see the shooter coming; by the time he emptied an entire clip into him it was already too late. He sobbed into Vegas’s chest, clutching at his shirt like he could pull him back somehow. His thoughts were a jumble of no, not now, you can’t do this to me now, do you hear me–

But Vegas was still dead and there was nothing he could do, and so he didn’t do anything until somebody came and pulled him away. He fought, struggled and screamed, but it wasn’t enough, he wasn’t enough, and no amount of fighting would bring Vegas back from the dead anyway. He thought of Vegas touching his face and saying if I die today can you be the one who kills me? and sort of wished he had been, that he could have that much at least before turning the gun on himself and following after. (reduce, reuse, recycle)

4. “Dreams can be meaningful,” Xiao Xingchen said. Xue Yang laughed, but it was an ugly sound.

“You really think so?” Xue Yang said. “God, Xingchen, I knew you were into some new age bullshit but I didn’t know you were this deep in it.” 

Xiao Xingchen drew back, hurt. “That’s mean,” he said. Xue Yang’s mouth twisted. 

“Still true,” he said. “Come on. I thought you were smarter than to fall for that kind of woo-woo shit.”

“It’s not about being stupid,” Xiao Xingchen said, anger starting to break through the hurt. “You could stand to have a little bit more of an open mind.”

“An open mind,” Xue Yang sneered. “Maybe you could stand to be a little less gullible.”

“I’m not gullible!” Xiao Xingchen said. “Why are you being so, so…��

“So what does it mean that I dreamed I made you kill yourself?” Xue Yang snapped, his voice rising. “Or do you think that actually happened in this past life we’re supposed to’ve had?”

Xiao Xingchen blinked.

“Yeah,” Xue Yang said savagely. “Thought maybe you hadn’t considered that.”

“I don’t think you actually…” Xiao Xingchen cleared his throat. “When I saw dreams can be meaningful I don’t mean they have to be…literally true.”

“That’s not what you fucking said,” Xue Yang said. “You’re saying that dreams are memories of who we were. What’s that supposed to say about who I was, then?”

Xiao Xingchen opened his mouth, then closed it. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten about Xue Yang’s dreams. But he did think of his own nightmares, of darkness, nothingness, suffocating grief. And wondered, suddenly, if he had a past life that he was remembering, whether he really wanted to. (Redux)

5. “Turns out I’m sort of notorious,” Anders said, his grin hideously strained. “One or two people looking for me. The likeness isn’t great but…nobody told me I had to go but they…I’d’ve been putting all of them in more danger staying. I didn’t want that, so…”

“You’re not concerned about putting me in danger, I take it,” Fenris said, an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was something tickling at the back of his mind, about the Fog Warriors, months on the run, every person he met a potential threat or a potential casualty. 

“Guess not,” Anders said airily, but a moment later he added, “it’s not the same for you. You’re not a mage.” 

“That much is certainly true,” Fenris said. Anders laughed, even though he hadn’t really meant it as a joke. 

“Are you really planning on going to Denerim?” Anders asked. “Or were you just saying that?” 

“I’ll need to find work somewhere,” Fenris said. “It seems as good a place to look as anywhere else.” He hadn’t been planning on it, but he hadn’t really been planning on anything else, either. He didn’t want to admit that, though; something about it seemed pathetic in a way he didn’t relish sharing with the mage. “Where were you thinking of going?” 

“Nowhere in particular,” Anders said. “Free as a bird, me. It’s been a while since I was in Denerim, could be fun to drop in.” 

Fenris eyed him, but decided to let it go. (the best all lack conviction)

6. It just fucking figured, didn’t it, that Vegas only realized how attached he’d gotten to Pete when he might’ve killed him. (Pyrexia)

7. His father wanted a demonic cultivator, so it fell to Jin Guangyao to find one. 

It was not exactly an easy task. If you listened to rumor, there were plenty of people in the jianghu who dabbled, but rumor was hardly accurate and it wasn’t as though he could approach its subjects – excuse me, I hear you practice a forbidden art, is that so – without at best arousing uncomfortable questions. (jgy teaches xy to read)

8. “Why does this bother you so much?” Song Lan asked instead of answering. “I wouldn’t expect you to care.”

“I don’t care about the people,” Xue Yang said. “What’re they to me? It’s the hypocrisy that bothers me. You talk a big game but you’re no different than the cultivation sects: only doing something when it’s convenient for you.” 

“It’s not a matter of convenience,” Song Lan said, stung. “What would you have me do?” Even before Xue Yang spoke he regretted the question. “Don’t answer that.”

“If you were going to be fair,” Xue Yang said, apparently ignoring him, “wipe the whole fucking town off the map.” 

“How is that fair,” Song Lan snapped. “Half of these people – more – are probably innocent. They might well have been entirely ignorant.”

“They still benefited,” Xue Yang said. “Still got good lives out of it. And never asked questions about how come fortune favored them, or where the disappearing people went, or – but sure, call them innocent.” His lip curled, and Song Lan had the sudden, odd feeling that Xue Yang was thinking about something else. “Funny, how you decide what’s your business and what isn’t. What’s worth seeking justice and what isn’t.”

“It’s not a matter of what’s worthwhile,” Song Lan said. “It’s a matter of what’s possible. I won’t kill these people. I’m not even certain what sect territory we’re in that I would report it to – and do you think they would do anything?”

“They never do,” Xue Yang said. “That’s why you have to do it yourself.”

Song Lan had that odd feeling again, like Xue Yang and he were talking about different things. “I’m not going to take the law into my own hands.” 

“Isn’t that how you work? Fix the problems the sects won’t solve?”

“Not to kill human beings!” (Walking Far From Home)

9. “Did I get your name?” He asked as they walked into the street. 

“Cassandra Pentaghast,” she said, her eyes straight ahead. Cullen couldn’t help turning to stare at her. 

“The Dragonslayer?” 

Oddly, she didn’t seem pleased. “I have been called that, yes.” 

He couldn’t decide if it was a good sign or a bad one that the Seekers had sent the Dragonslayer herself to talk to him. Considering the trend of his life so far, probably a bad one. But that was rank self-pity, and he shouldn’t indulge in it. 

As they walked to the docks to take a boat across to the Gallows, Cullen was acutely aware of the condition of the city. The scorch marks and destroyed houses, the makeshift shelters of people with nowhere else to go. He could practically feel the Seeker’s eyes weighing, assessing, judging. 

“We’ve been doing our best to handle the…aftermath,” Cullen said defensively. “But considering the suspicion and mistrust of – well, pretty much everyone – and the lack of any clear leadership, it isn’t easy.” 

“You haven’t taken that role?” 

Cullen tried not to hunch his shoulders. “I haven’t.” He could feel her staring at him, waiting for more explanation, but he didn’t offer one. (Salvage)

10. Time passed. Without benefit of light, she didn’t know how much, so she wasn’t certain how long it had been when she woke to someone standing in the doorway of her room, leaning against the frame and watching her with bright, intense eyes.

Wen Qing stared at him. He smiled at her.

“Hey, Wen-guniang,” said Xue Yang. “Fancy seeing you again! I heard they burned you alive.” 

She stood up, careful to keep her face calm and unaffected. She didn’t know him well, not personally. Their interactions had been fairly limited, by design. She’d found him once sitting with Wen Ning, apparently telling him a story, and for all his laughter and smiles there was something sharp in the way he’d looked at her brother. Curious in the way a cat was curious about a bug.

Wen-guniang! he’d said when he’d seen her. This is your brother, right? He’s so much fun to talk to.

“I’m not supposed to know you’re here,” Xue Yang said. “Technically. Course, technically you’re not supposed to be alive, either, but Lianfang-zun’s got an eye for talent.” He laughed. The way he said it, Wen Qing suspected he was quoting. 

She stayed silent. Perhaps it was beneath her to be just a little bit gratified by the flicker of irritation that crossed Xue Yang’s face, but she’d allow it. 

“What,” he said. “They didn’t cut out your tongue, did they?”

“No.”

Xue Yang grinned. “Good! That would’ve been pretty disappointing. I have so many questions for you.” (fall apart, destroy, release)

11. Xiao Xingchen groped after understanding. His head hurt so badly and kept spinning and he was so confused, knowing things were missing but not knowing what he knew was missing. “I don’t know,” he said, distressed. “I…something wrong. Something…bad?” 

There was a brief, terrifying pause and then a laugh that sounded genuinely amused. “What? You, Daozhang?”

Xiao Xingchen could feel his face warming but he shook his head. “It was something important,” he said. “That I should have…or shouldn’t have…but I can’t remember. Did I…” He took a careful breath and said, “did I hurt you, friend?” 

“Pff,” his friend said. “No. Don’t be stupid. Come on. You won’t let me kill spiders in the house.” A flash of memory at that image, legs tickling his palm and he could feel someone’s amusement even though no one was laughing. It must be his friend. But it seemed like someone else. 

He didn’t know who. 

“Oh,” he said vaguely. “That’s good. I’m glad it wasn’t you.” 

“It wasn’t me what?” 

“That I hurt,” Xiao Xingchen said. “I…” He was seeking in the dark, and he didn’t even know what he was seeking for. “I think I hurt someone very badly,” he said, his voice fading to a shamed whisper. For a long moment his friend was silent and Xiao Xingchen wanted to cringe. (xiao xingchen + concussion)

[sophie-frm-mars]

i love the term "the wyrm" because its a really useful term and also it creates wordplay i really like with brainwyrm. did you intend for that

Yeah actually. So I'm quite influenced in my thinking about all this by Dawkins (ugh) meme theory, the idea that the evolution of ideas as they are passed from person to person is analogous to biolgocal genetic evolution.

There's a triple nature to the Wyrm that I wanna get into in future essays, and the simplest way to describe it is like a good ol fashioned holy trinity: the Wyrm, the mold and the money-borne virus

The Wyrm is my sort of kaiju-like, monstrous, destructive force representation of the thing we're talking about. We can look at the thing like a huge invisible beast, digging up yummy rare earth metals and minerals on indigenous lands, trampling over poor neighbourhoods to replace them with luxury apartments, bombing countless countries in imperialist wars. It sucks the oil out of the ground and it excretes pollution that will eventually choke it to death. The Wyrm is an object manifestation of the hyperobject. It is also helpful to think of this imaginative "body" in order to picture its organs and limbs

The mold is more descriptive of the shape of this thing, if we were going to look at it on a global map. Much like my fungus thought approach to spreading socialism, the Wyrm can also be understood to have a kind of mycellial growth, and it's especially clear when we consider how it grows strongest where resources are withheld from people - a rot sets in. It emerged like a mold, in pockets that sent out spores that established colonies which fed back resources to the starting point. It will be replaced in a fungal manner too, with pockets of collapse of its system opening up a new kind of rot that it can't recuperate, turning into new strains and species competing for space, which will then grow into each other and replace it.

The money-borne virus is the third side of this and it's the part I've formulated the least so far, but the idea is basically that it only exists in our heads, and only grows when we talk other people into it or force them into it through their material conditions. People with more money are more susceptible to money-borne brainworms, go figure

Thanks for the question