#Ophi writes

[writing-time-bitches]

When Ingo returns to Unova after Hisui, Emmet and Elesa are going to have CONSTRAIN the man from punching any wild pokemon that so much as walks ten inches next to them. He is not afraid. He will fight a druddigon if it so much looks at him wrong.

He will out right CLOCK pokemon. He doesnt know fear anymore. He will throw hands.

[erosology]

könig squishing your cheeks as you’re sobbing “it hurts, könig! s’too much!” him shushing you as he sinks into you inch by inch, just enough of his 260lbs + weight to keep you pinned “shh, shh liebling, it will feel good soon, i promise, just take it for me, ya?”

or better yet, könig getting off on the fact that he’s hurting you, pushing your head back down in the mattress and groaning “oh fuck, liebling, so tight. does it hurt, hm?” and right when you sob out a “yes, yes it hurts!” he makes sure you feel every single inch stretch you out “good, keep crying. it’s making me harder”

[ediblehype]

Dazai: I love having an autistic girlfriend. She’s not responding to my texts: has she finally decided to leave me? No. She’s watch people scoop crystals on YouTube.

Y/n, taking her headphones off: Huh? What did you say?

Dazai, smiling: I’m home, how was your day?

[ophieslibrary]

Thinking about Task Force 141 & Reader when they believe someone has betrayed them.

All evidence keeps pointing at different members. The blame keeps getting pushed around and this found family you have been blessed with is starting to fracture.

First, it was Johnny. There was an attack on base near the Captain’s office. A highly lethal explosive was used to infiltrate the building. Investigation found signs of a signature that had only been seen on explosives set by the Scot. He thankfully had been on a 2 week mission with you at the time so his alibi was solid

Then, it was Gaz. A file had been lifted off of the Captain’s computer. The access code used belonged to him. It took a little longer to clear his name than it had for Soap. Thankfully he was able to prove that the code used was a code he had burned years prior. You were able to prove this by looking at the coding embedded in the access code usage from Price’s computer.

The Lieutenant was barely even considered. Someone mentioned that he was absent at the time of the attack and he didn’t need to say a single word to silence those rumors. He leveled one steely glare at the recruit and any talk of him being the traitor happened behind his back. Where was Ghost? He was on a covert operation for Laswell in Ukraine. Definitely above board and not a black operation in any way.

Next, the Captains himself was in the hot seat. He was the only one of the team that would have known Soap’s signature for the bomb and Kyle’s access code, current and previous. He also knew when Ghost would be off base and when you and Soap would be on assignment. Orchestrating the best time to attack.

Finally, the pointing fingers found their way to you. You also would’ve known Soap’s signature. You didn’t know where Ghost was going but you remembered saying goodbye to him before you went to debrief for the mission you and Soap were being sent on. You were also the best at computers and hacking on the team. It took the longest to clear your name, and even while you were put on leave while the investigation was ongoing recruits and other CO’s continued to theorize. Throwing around ideas that it was a team effort and that we were all a cell of terrorists planted in the military.

As accusations continued to rise and your own teammates began to turn on one another you snuck back into Price’s office determined to get to the bottom of this and to save the found family you have grown to love so much.

Turns out the access code used to frame Kyle, could be traced back to a cell tower in Russia. You took your findings to Laswell and the two of you busted down the door of a run down apartment. Inside were three women strung out on lord knows what, and a man passed out with no less than 12 bottles of vodka surrounding him. Viktor Kuzmenko. Number 7 on the CIAs most wanted list. Further investigation and interrogation would later reveal he was behind everything that your team was being blamed for.

You would do anything to protect your family. Even if it means getting your hands a little dirty and doing things in a less than ideal way.

xx

A/N: This was supposed to be much shorter, and I didn’t really proofread this. Sorry if there are typos☠️

Requests are: OPEN

[ophiebot]

Thinking about a Princess Bride AU for the sheer whackiness bc you know sans would be the type to show up after years apart (and in disguise) only to wreak havoc and steal you back because youre the love of his life. and hes a fucking bastard about it too.

Sans in an ill fitting mask: "as you wish"

MC: "....I swear to fuck-"

[ophiedokes]

Sometime in the 2000s, film students found a test for female representation in film and called it the Bechdel Test, so named for the cartoonist who wrote the comic the "test" first appears in. Back in 2013, Alison Bechdel has said that while she's glad mainstream culture is finally catching up to where Lesbian-Feminism was 30 years ago, she can't bring herself to keep relitigating the subject. 40 years out from the comic's creation, I have decided to take up that tiresome chore for myself. The way we talk about the Bechdel Test is incredibly flawed, and in this video essay I use examples ranging from the Shakespeare play Virginia Woolf referenced in A Room Of One's Own when she initially commented on this same phenomenon to the Marvel Cinematic Universe's failure to do right by their female characters.

If you like my writing and would like to toss me a couple of dollars on Ko-Fi it would go very far. I've been out of work since April and I'm trying on whether or not writing and filming this kind of work can be what I do to support myself- https://ko-fi.com/ophiewrites

ty to my best friend @alonglineofbread for doing the voices for Alison and Virginia I love youuuu

[the-fictive-sanctuary]

Realistically for our system we simply cannot keep up with it. Not only are we a large system, but we have a lot of dissociation. We are also autistic (with higher support needs, not entirely sure where stand, but in process of getting help and understanding our needs), we are physically disabled and can be very sick due to regular infections and such. We can barely care for ourselves. So keeping track of our system is impossible. It's already impossible for many polyfragmented systems, but with everything else we experience physically and mentally on top of it only makes it more impossible.

Our host hates it. They want to log all the altera. They want to remember the alters that never got logged when they fronted and now we can't remember them. They want to do so much for them, but we can't. They can't. They can barely care for themselves. We shouldn't have to care for ourselves. We know we need external care, but we do not have it.

So our host holds this guilt about them. Whether it's fictives, other introjects, or brainmade. They wish that we could keep track, but we just can't. Our system is exhausting. Our body is exhausted. We have to work extremely hard to feed ourselves and drink water and rest. We can barely walk with no aids. We are fragile physically and mentally. With very little help irl due to still being neglected. But the reality doesn't make host feel any less guilty. It just makes them sad how our abilities are limited. I can feel for them. It's partly why I made this account for alters (not just fictives though typically fictives since they're the most comfortable being online) when they front. They have this space. Even if not in simplyplural. It helps.

-Ophi

[thecollectionsof]

some crystal/jackie wip wtuesday for @aqpippin (happy birthday lovely thank you for falling into methydcox hours with me <3)

Jackie hears the sound of faint footsteps outside and only has a second to stand back up before Ophelia goes tearing over to the door.

“Ophie baby! Who’s my best girl?” Crystal says delightedly as she opens the door using the key that Jackie has given to her (permanently, at this point. If Jan ever tried to stop over unannounced she wouldn’t be able to get in, not when the spare key is in the hands of a colorful, chaotic whirlwind, but it makes sense. Crystal comes over more than anyone else by a long shot.) “Have you been good for your Mama? Of course you have, you’re—”

Jackie’s looking at her, so of course she notices the moment Crystal notices her. “You call her Ophie?” she says without thinking, and then cringes. Not even a hello? No small talk? This is why she’s single.

“Um. Yeah, she likes it, I think.” Ophelia, Ophie, is proving her point, if her wagging tail and excited steps as she dances around Crystal are any indication of things. “I think it’s cute. I can stop calling her that if you don’t like it.” They both know that means I’ll call her Ophie when you aren’t around, not that Crystal knows she’s focused on her enough in their short conversations to know when she’s lying. Or maybe she does, who knows.

[supertransural]

in heaven:

okay everyone so you’ve all been selected to be assigned a human, your job is going to be to keep them out of trouble until they perform their unbeknownst heavenly duties. everybody take your pick :)

so we have dennis, 16, high school student, main focus is going to be keeping him away from weed — okay here you go… then we have christie, 34, her marriage is failing so you may have to counsel her a bit… perfect thank you for volunteering. uhh who’s next.. right, henry, 52, no real focus to speak of, he’s just clumsy, so watch out for when he’s cooking with knifes — right off you pop. andddd… dean, 29… oh he’s a doozy. i mean this one would be a 24/7 charge, no breaks. veeeery dysfunctional. psychologically challenged, damaged, in danger round the clock, and currently locateeed… in hell.

cas: give.

[ophiespeaks]

Illiteracy in higher education.

i usually don’t post about my personal life on here but i had an interaction so confusing that i wanted to share it into void. if i talk to any of my friends about it it’s too personal and i feel like i’m making fun of this person specifically so internet anonymity is the better option.

So, I essentially work as a writing tutor at my university. People come in and have me look over their academic work and I point to sentences or paragraphs and tell them what I think needs improved or explain to them why a concept works and that sort of thing. I had someone come to me applying for grad school (Yippieee!!) and they asked about a specific type of paper/assignment that can be included in a grad school application that I’ve personally never worked with before. Instead of being like “sorry dog i’ve never applied to grad school” and calling it a day, I decided we would collaboratively look for sources with the information they needed. They watched me almost confused as I scrolled down the first few results and clicked on a website from something like the university of Illinois. they then asked me why i scrolled. almost absentmindedly, i kind of just gave a brief explanation while looking for an example paper, something like “oh, it’s an edu.” They were confused. So, i ramble-explained that .edu, .org, and .gov are all semi-reliable sources when compared to a .com. with further prompting i explained some of the nuances. for example, a .com is commercial, it can be owned by anyone who wants to or in some cases pays for the website to stay up/keep the url. meanwhile i explained edu is educational-sites only, like college homepages, .org is an official organization that has to have some level of verification and documentation that they’re a real company, and .gov is an offfical government site. this person then asked me what does the difference mean in terms of including them in things like essays and research. essentially, I just explained that while .coms are often correct based off of a lose honor system (people wouldn’t visit their site if they were wrong about stuff), they’re almost always secondhand information just conglomerated into one site. (think of wikipedia, for example.) Versus anything published on a .org is probably organization findings, or on a .edu it’s probably professor/instructor research and grad school datasets conducted at the university, a .gov is officially released government information which includes a wide variety of things. but, at its core, the three others are more likely to provide primary sources, finding the original study, data, quote, etc.

i didn’t think too much about it at the time but I’m actually going crazy over it now. I thought that I was incredibly tech illiterate. but— applying for graduate school and not knowing the real difference on why you’d use a .edu over a .com was insane to me. after further thought into this subject I honestly don’t even blame this individual. i genuinely think education, both public and university, are FAILING to teach people not only basic english skills, but basic online navigation.

this person was only 3-6 years older than me. university professors ask you to use APA formatted citations with academic sources and don’t even bother to read your citation list, calling it good enough if it looks correct when they skim over it. not to mention the citation list was almost absolutely generated on perdue owl’s APA 7 generator site. this lack of attention and honestly care of these instructors to teach, combined with the idea of “no child left behind” being implemented is currently allowing adults, some applying for GRADUATE school, to miss crucial aspects of academic writing. what’s worse is this person is studying language. i really don’t blame them— you don’t know what you’re never taught. i’m more upset that the institution had this person go through four years for their bachelor’s degree and somehow never taught them why you should try and use other urls/websites than a .com for an academic source. of course, there are exceptions to this rule, obviously. and, again, .com sites can absolutely be correct. but the fact that i had to explain this to someone applying for graduate school makes me not think that this PERSON is ignorant, but that the education system has failed to teach them the proper channels and methodology for what they’re doing.

this lends to a much bigger issue that I’m seeing in my workplace. that is, English-native speakers not being able to write…anything. illiteracy is no joke. and i work with people with learning disabilities and such pretty frequently— that’s not what I’m talking about. in fact, those writers are often more receptive to feedback and are actually easier to work with than someone who just wants me to “proofread” their essays. I’m not talking about writers with learning disabilities. however, I’ve seen honors-colloquium english students come in with some of the most unreadable garbage i’ve ever seen. and i don’t mean that to be an asshole. i mean, literally, i don’t even know what they’re writing about for half a page because i can’t understand their sentences. common mistakes i see, listed in no particular order:

1. Typing something out how it sounds. A correct sentence would be “David and I walked down town, looking for our lost dog.” I’ve seen a similar sentence that actually said “David an I walked downtown, looking four hour lost dog.”

2. Missing Punctuation. I mean genuinely no punctuation, anywhere. the entire essay is a run-on sentence. (I tutor only at the college level, for reference.) This also includes contractions not having the necessary apostrophe. I’ve seen “im,” “weve” “hasnt” more times than i want to admit.

3. Sentence structure. As in, no one knows how to write one. I get sentence fragments all the time. “Jumped on the bed and sat down.” While you can start on a verb, it most commonly has to be in gerund form (-ing words, in this case, Jumping.) Also, this sentence has no real subject, making it just feel wrong inserted into a larger paragraph. Who’s jumping? Your guess is as good as mine.

4. Right word, wrong type. “Your” versus “You’re.” “There” “Their” “They’re.” This sort of thing. Apostrophe “re” (‘re) signifies “are,” as in “You are” or “They are.” For the other two: There is where we go, I’m headed over there. Their has an “I,” so we’re talking about people, as in, The car is theirs. Another one much more uncommon that personally upsets me when I do see it is “Through,” “Threw,” and “Thru.” We’re going through the tunnel, and she threw the bottle behind her. Threw is a verb, an action word, whereas through is a preposition, adverb, and/or an adjective. “Going through” is an adverb, for example. Thru is a drive thru. You’re picking up a McChicken and a coke.

5. Misunderstanding nuance. This is almost exclusively seen in essays for english courses where they’re reading a book, sometimes something like a play or they watched a movie, but usually it’s a book. This is less “technically” wrong and more…media illiteracy than anything else. For example, I had someone write an essay on why they thought it was stupid that Gatsby was narrated by Nick Carroway. I wanted to hold their hand while I explained why, in fact, it was a purposeful and deliberate choice from Fitzgerald to make Gatsby the focal point but NOT the narrator. That it wasn’t an oversight because the author was stupid. I love literature analysis. But there’s a difference between having a different interpretation of a piece versus just fundamentally misunderstanding it. One of my favorite topics I’ve ever written about is the queer-coded nature of Carroway and Gatsby and symbolism in the novel, which might not be the author’s intent and most likely isn’t the same read that EVERY individual reading Gatsby had. There’s a difference between adding interpretation versus straight up just…not understanding a big part of it.

There’s absolutely more examples but to avoid redundancy (another huge issue in essays I read, but I digress), my point is that schools have failed us. Covid, no child left behind, etc. have ensured that everyone passes so long as they turn their work in. Not just that- completing an assignment is a 100% A+ in most cases. A professor is questioned and hated for giving a bad grade to a bad essay because the student has been Pavlov’d into thinking that turning in essay = A. they aren’t getting better because there’s no upper grade for them. if they can get a perfect grade turning in word vomit, why would they ever give a shit? why would they ever try to get better? but then, they encounter the one professor who doesn’t give easy grades. who wants their work to excel, who wants them to produce something of substance. and not only do they suffer greatly because of educational mishandling outside of their control, but then they blame the PROFESSOR, who only wants better for them. it’s a cycle that keeps everyone hating each other instead of hating the real villain of all of this. The American Education system.

I’m gonna get off of my soapbox because I could genuinely be here all day. Also, if I made any grammar or punctuation errors here and you think pointing it out is some epic “OWNING,” i assure you it is not. because the difference is that this is an unedited tumblr text post that is still written better than 75% of the essays that come across my desk.

[kiwibirdlafayette]

What are Ophi’s music tastes? or music you’d say is his theme?

!!! music music music 👀

I's say overall Ophi's a very musical theater kinda guy! :D I've always sorta wrote him as someone who loves showtunes and more pop music that derives from showtunes (I feel like he'd be really into AJR or whatever the mianite equivalent is) A lot of his motifs come from Hamilton and he also canonically knows about the barbie movie and the songs from it so take that as you will xD

His main character theme is Arrow by Folly and the Hunter ! To me the song's a lot about the fear of never finding and chasing down something that burns like a fire in your heart, calling you to something new and unknown- and finding the strength to leave behind all you've ever known and seeking it out- flying like an arrow towards it, a kind of freedom. It has a dual meaning as it represents Ophi's whole personality and drive to travel across the multiverse become a Dianitee in the face of everyone telling him not to/having to deal with leaving his family behind, and that his strength in combat is as an archer C:

I also have a playlist of his motifs for his character arcs during my mianite rpg POV, currently his arc is represented by Inertia by AJR :D

[writing-time-bitches]

Onward! // Submas drabble

Based on this post by @critterbitter ! Go check it out. Now. 🔫😐

\\\

Zephyr loved his job. He loved being a subway conductor even if the workplace was at times subpar with its safety. Sure the rails needed to be redone, sure the AC sometimes shorted out, and sure people tended to battle on it a few too many times per day but by Arceus’ eighteen plates did he adore the Unovan subway.

The one thing that could possibly outdo his love for trains and railways are children. And there’s a certain trio of kids that come by every time, without fail, when his train comes to a stop in Nimbasa City. They loved the trains almost as much as Zephyr did, particularly the twins. The Sinnohan girl and her Blitzle were quiet, likely due to her language barrier, but they always seemed to be just as excitable.

It was commonplace by now for Zephyr and the kids to exchange greetings when they entered his train. And recently, the Sinnohan has been speaking more too! Zephyr would be lying if he said he didn’t feel like a proud father.

The kids, now with a new companion in the form of dwebble that relaxed in the blitzle’s bags, were seen commonly working on homework when the train was moving. School was starting up again since the summer has drawn to a close. The twins, especially Ingo, would often help their foreign friend with her Galarian and homework.

And today they seemed particularly determined though…

“Right on schedule, Mr. Zephyr!” Emmet and Ingo shouted in tandem, ending off with their hellos. Elesa waved with a grin and their pokemon did the same. Zephyr couldn’t help but let a smile slip through his stoic work facade as he tipped his gray hat at them. They hurriedly approached the subway doors exchanging friendly nods when they entered.

“Oh, by the way…” Zephyr rummaged through his coat pockets and produced four clear plastic bags that were tied with a cute yellow. Blitzle perked and brayed excitedly as he recognized one of the bags’ contents,”I remember you mentioning what treats your pokemon liked so my husband and I made some for you! I apologize if their not the best, I’m not exactly a baker… the sugar cubes are infused with lemon.” Zephyr mentioned, scratching at his growing stubble with an air sheepishness.

Elesa’s and Emmet’s grins grew wider and Ingo produced one of his signature odd Purloin-like smiles. Elesa bowed,”Arigatou! Thank you Mr. Zephyr!” Blitzle drew his lips back in an excited snarl as he sniffed at the bag of sugar, Elesa laughed and sat down in one of the seats close to the door he stood at. The twins were quick to follow her lead.

Zephyr loaded on more passengers, punching their tickets and all, requesting all pokemon larger 3ft be returned to their pokeballs unless they are medically trained. Once the last person was onboard he turned to the twins behind him, and as if they had used Foresight, they turned at the same time. Zephyr didn’t have to say anything they were already jumping to their feet.

Zephyr crouched down and turned on his radio,”Attention all passengers, Line 6 is now departing.” He held the black box towards the boys who screamed into the radio,”ALL ABOOOOAARD!”

All three of them snickered at the yelps and curses of surprises that echoed both within and outside the train. Elesa cackled at a group of teens who turned to glare daggers at Zephyr and the boys while holding their ears.

Emmet grinned with a mischievous triumph, foot tapping,”I am Emmet. I will never grow tired of that.” Ingo nodded in agreement,”Indeed, we owe a gratuitous debt for the times you’ve allowed us to send this train off.”

Zephyr gave a mere chuckle and stood up, straightening his coat,”Ah it’s no big deal. By the way,” he turned to his little passengers,”where are you headed off to this time?”

“Route 10.” Came the synchronized answer. Zephyr’s pale blue eyes widened before a worried frown found its place on his face,”Route 10? Are you sure? You know the cliffs are unstable there… and it right next to the League, plenty of powerful pokemon will be there.” All three nodded their heads, Ingo piped up seemingly having predicted the conductor’s hesitancy,”We are well aware of that. We plan to strictly stay on Boufallant herding trails and on designated hiking trails. And,” he spared a withering glance at his brother,”we will run and hide at the sight of any overly-strong pokemon.” Emmet shrunk at at the glare and exaggerated words,”I am Emmet. I prrrromise to follow the rules.”

Zephyr bite his lip, unconsciously running his hand through the thick brown curled locks of hair under his hat, a few strands fell into his eyes as he glanced between his young passengers,”Are you sure…? Are you going to tell your uncle where you’re going at least?”

Emmet and Elesa gave a shug while Ingo nodded,”That is the first thing we will do when we reach Opelucid. Right Emmet? Elesa?” Under the glare of the eldest twin the two electric-type enthusiasts were quick to nod. Satisfied with their compliance he turned to the other with complete self-assuredness and confidence.

Still, Zephyr couldn’t help but feel a little responsible.

“What if I came with you for part of the hike?” He offered. The trio blinked, apparently having not anticipated that response. Elesa was first to recover,”No need! We handle ourselves perfectly good!” She tried, her Sinnohan accent thick upon her clumsy tongue. Emmet nodded, with his little tynamo sparking,”I am Emmet! Thank you for the offer but no thank you.”

When Ingo hadn’t responded as well the two looked at him with a badly hidden pleas. Ingo, being the ever so responsible young man he was bite the side of cheek in consideration,”… I would not be opposed to the notion…” at that the litwick atop his hat started spewing words a mile-a-minute. Zephyr had no clue what she was saying but from Ingo’s grimace it seemed like something of a scolding. Ingo picked up his ghostly friend and muttered something in argument but the litwick was not hearing it.

Sighing in a dramatic defeat he looked up at the grown he had grown to trust sadly,”I must apologize, it would seem the party’s against a chaperone.” Elesa and Ememt and their pokemon gave a not-so-quiet cheer for independence while Ingo sat in remorseful silence. Zephyr sighed through his nose but gave an understanding smile,”It’s ok, I understand. You’re all growing up to be young adults now, it’s only expected you’d want to go off alone. But promise me one thing, you’ll call your uncle once you’ve reached Route 10’s entrance and when you get back to the city ok?” At that everyone nodded (Litwick gave a begrudging accepting nod and pouted; she will always crave independency and chaos) and Zephyr smiled.

“Good. I hope to see you soon when you’re done.”

Emmet tapped his foot nervously against the cold pavement of the station. Night was starting to fall and the Line 6 train has not arrived yet. Similarly Elesa had begun to pace around the small bench they were seated on, chewing on her already short nails.

Emmet leaned back and complained to his friend,”When is train gonna get heeeeerrrrugh.” He drawled, swinging his legs as he tilted his head to look at his brother who was busy trying to find out why their train was so late. Emmet didn’t like this. Line 6 was never late. Never. Zephyr would never let the subway be so late, especially when he and his friends were supposed to board. Litwick was unusually quiet too, she would definitely be complaining loudly by now but she was statue still as if her wax had cooled off and quiet as the stale wind in the tunnel they were in.

His and Ingo’s moms must be worrying. They should’ve been home by now…

Where the hell was Line 6?

A soft choked gasp erupted unbidden from his brother. Straightening with alarm he and Elesa turned to the eldest of the three,”Ingo? What’s wrong?” Ingo, face sucked pale as the snow that surrounded Iccirus City, turned to face his companions. Emmet felt the unease that was already bubbling in his stomach rise to just underneath his skin at the horrified and grief-stricken look on Ingo’s face. What happ—

“Line 6… had a derailment.”

Two days after the reported crash, the Nimbasan kids stood at the edge of a gathered group of mourners. Their pokemon were tucked in their pokeballs today.

The sun beat down on the group in an almost mockingly cheerful way. Elesa wished the scenery was like what it was in movies. Clouds should be covering the sun, the threat of rainfall thick in the air and congested with sombre music. Not the energetic chirping of pidoves, the yawns of sewaddles and swadloons or the cheerful floating of nearby whismsicott.

It should be depressing. Not single sound should be heard but the barely contained sniffles and sobs of the grieving.

Elesa glanced at the tombstone’s writing: Here lies Zephyr Harrison, loving son, brother and husband. 19xx - 19xx.

Elesa quickly has to look away, hands gripping each other tightly enough that she could feel her nails dig into her skin. She couldn’t bear to think about the kind train conductor who smiled at her proudly whenever she spoke a sentence in galarian, or the man who had given all of them tailor-made gray conductor hats that matched his. She couldn’t bear to think of the man who felt like a doting older brother or a second father.

Next to her Emmet was swaying a little too hard, almost tipping to fall on his face one too many times, and staring— no, glaring— at the earth beneath him like it had wronged him in some inexcusable way. His smile was no where to be seen, replaced by a tight, wobbly straight line instead. His eyes were misty with unshed tears.

Ingo wasn’t much better. His face was schooled into a mask of indifference as he stared distantly past the grave and stock still like a statue. The only thing that told you he was alive was the uneven and short breaths he was taking, as if trying to not burst into fat ugly tears.

To be honest, Elesa was trying to not do the same. She never noticed how constant Zephyr was in their lives until he was 6 feet in the ground. Her mind couldn’t stop replaying all the little moments she had shared with the older man, his fond smiles and the proud glimmer in his eyes, other tics the man had. Like adjusting his hat just before leaving to the control car, or carting his hand through his hair, or how his eye twitched every time he dealt with a Karen on his train. The slightly off-center quirked lips in his teethy grins.

Grief burrowed itself deeper in her heart when she realized she was never going to feel Zephyr’s hand ruffled her hair with unsaid affection.

Elesa was going to miss Zephyr.

The twins were going to miss Zephyr.

[erosology]

slow, sloppy makeout sessions with captain john price :( him coming home late from work, dark, puffy bags under his eyes and the stench of cigars clinging to his skin as an indicator of how stressful the day was. His strong brow furrowed in frustration but smooths out once he sees you; his hands reaching out to you and immediately pulling you in as soon as you’re within arm’s reach; wrestling you into his clutches so you two can watch a movie and unwind together; wandering fingers tracing the bare skin of your hip as your shirt hikes up higher and higher before splaying flat across your stomach; feeling his breath dance across the back of your neck as you try your hardest to follow along to the plot

“this part is really important, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear. “you need to pay close attention”

but you can’t—not when his familiar scent is filling your nose and you can feel the strong, reliable beat of his heart knocking against his ribs and his fingers are grazing against the band of your underwear. and somewhere along the way, you find yourself facing him and all of the beauty that is him and nearly go blind with love and lust, delicate fingers tracing the outline of your eyes as if teasing to tear them out. it’d be worth it, you think, worth having the last thing you see be your lover’s tired, handsome face

and after some more teasing and giggles, you feel his soft beard tickle your cheek and nearly melt into a puddle of desperation. hands shaking with need, you pull him closer by the collar of his shirt and a chuckle reverberates in his chest—low, sweet, tender

“eager, love?”

“jus’ wan’ you, john.”

“you've got me, silly girl. always have, always will”   

his fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt as his chapped lips brush against your cheek, and then your nose, and then he slowly grazes them across yours before he slots them together. his kisses, much like him, start off slow, sensual, gentle until the sparks dance together and a fire inevitably starts and you’re choking on cigar smoke and love and other minuscule things. his calloused palms graze your thigh, stomach, sternum, anything that reminds him of how human you both are and how much he adores your skin. soft moans and groans blend together until someone opens their mouth and then suddenly, tongues are tangled together as you try and swallow each other’s pants

somewhere along the way, you’ve wound up in his lap, grinding against his hardening cock, and now his hands are on your hips and encouraging your movement. more moans tumble out of his lips followed by some curses, his lips swollen and his tongue swiping across them

“f-fuck, baby,” he pants. “slow down. i want to taste you a bit more, yeah? kiss me some more.”

and how can you resist? truth be told, you think you might be able to sit on this very couch for the rest of your life, legs wrapped around his waist and fingers tangled in his hair, lips working against his and pulling pretty noises out of his throat. and honest to god, he thinks he would allow it, maybe even indulge in it a little. because he’s here in his living room, some sort of movie he lost track of the plot of long ago playing on his television, your teeth brushing against his bottom lip as you suck it into your mouth, surrounded by love and relaxation

[starsasunder]

@seatedsacrifice sent: [ dinner ] / Inanna

LOVE LANGUAGES, PART ONE: ACTS OF SERVICE. // Accepting.

[ dinner ] sender takes receiver out to dinner at their favourite place.

As they step out of the portal and find their footing, Inanna's eyes flutter open to find that they have landed in a darkened back alley. A single lamp illuminates the space, but it is blissfully free of onlookers who might question their method of travel. Glad to be free of the Rift for the time being, she glances around at their surroundings before realizing where they have landed. "Oh! Glad I brought a coat," she muses, holding onto his arm as she bends to adjust the strap of her heel, causing her hair to spill in loose curls over her shoulder. "It gets a bit chilly here at night."

[ophieslibrary]

Been thinking a lot about Task Force 141 & reader today. Reader getting captured on mission & the boys worry about getting them back. Except they didn’t need to worry at all.

Getting captured on a mission and taken to a secondary location where they begin torture for information on the infamous men of the 141. But what these idiots didn’t realize is that they left the bindings just a little too loose. So naturally they’re broken, and all the enemies are killed. Brutually. They were a small team that managed to escape to a safe house of sorts, all their other comrades were killed by the boys.

Now the boys are going fucking crazy. They searched up and down the base 3 times. Nothing. They even take a few stragglers that weren’t quite gone yet. They question, interrogate, torture until finally one of these little birds sings about a safe house a couple miles from base in the woods.

The head straight there armed to the nines expecting a fire fight to the death. Instead what greets them is blood and guts and bone. Corpses littering the floor around a table. Atop the table sits their sweet, sunshine in human form, team member. Swinging legs back and forth humming a song about a bunny in the forest.

Price is proud. Taking out every enemy alone is no small feat, even if it was a smaller squad.

Ghost is relieved. Not dead and seemingly okay, minus a few minor cuts and bruises.

Gaz is terrified. Covered in blood head to toe that is clearly belonging to the corpses laying around, and just singing.(!?)

Soap.. Soap knows that song.

Little Bunny Foo Foo hopping through forest, picking up the field mice and bopping them on their heads.

xx

I’m sitting in Urgent Care waiting to see if I have Strep and I couldn’t get this out of my head. It’s a little silly but I HAD to write it.😂🩵

Requests are: OPEN

[ophiebot]

Yo yo whats up! New Undertale AU one shot drabble fic. It's vampires! 🧛🏻