#accessibility NOW motherfuckers

[thebookworm0001]

endgame spoilers

never gonna be over this

[guard-en]

EMERGES FROM THE SHADOWS COVERED IN BLOOD daily Hank day 25... collapses. work doodle because thats all i got FOR NOW.

[nsfwitchy2]

Mad at my parents so I’m gonna lay at the very top of the stairs up to their rooms and block the path until they apologize to me

[hussyknee]

Reports indicate that Sri Lanka’s cashew nut harvest in 2021 also declined by 40% from the average yearly harvest due to the weather conditions. Ratnayake pointed out that while the annual demand for cashew was typically around 25,000 tonnes, this year’s production could fall below 10,000 tonnes. Consequently, there is a significant disparity between the actual quantity needed and the anticipated production.

Y'ever think about what absolute mad decadence we live in that "vanilla" means "plain"

[potya-the-cat]

well hello void - i’m here with the update nobody has been waiting for - shockingly fucker did remember my birthday - 1 day early.

[jankwritten]

Clubbing dumb rich idiots over the head 24/7

[2boldlyqueer]

This has popped off more than most of my posts, so I want to add some resources for folks about IDs.

The number one thing that helped me start writing IDs was this image:

[ImageID: A guide to writing alt text, titled "Writing Alt Text". There are five bubbles of different colors underneath with writing in them. "Identify who" is in green, "expression" is in pink, "description" is in blue, "color" is in yellow, and "interesting features" is in orange. Beneath that is a photo of a capybara with an image description next to it that reads, "A capybara looking relaxed in a hot spa. Yellow yuzu fruits are floating in the water, and one is balanced on the top of the capybara's head. This text is marked with different colors that show what part of the ID describes which of the important components. At the bottom it says "Source: veroniiiica.com" and the word Puzzle as a stylized logo. /EndID]

After seeing that, I checked the source for the image, and found a very helpful website called Veroniiiica (Veronica with Four Eyes). It's a site by someone with low vision about all sorts of visual accessibility. I recommend exploring her posts to learn more about life with and accommodations for visually impaired folks, but if you only read one she's got the most comprehensive guide to IDs and alt text:

She also gets into the difference between alt text and image descriptions, which is important to understand, as they are different things! I find alt text much more difficult than image descriptions because they need to be as brief as possible.

Tumblr thankfully allows a longer alt text, so if I don't have the energy to be super concise I can still put something there. However, only the person who is uploading the image on Tumblr can add alt text, so it's better to put something there even if it doesn't hit every category in the image above.

For formatting, this is a good post talking about formatting of image descriptions and alt text. The rest of Lane's blog, @askablindperson, is full of helpful info about image descriptions and other blindness related resources! The OP, @normal-thoughts-official, also has a lot of great accessibility related stuff on their blog.

The very short summary of that post is that you should include alt text AND image descriptions whenever possible, try to keep the ID as close to the image itself as possible, make sure to put ID and End ID at the beginning and end, only use regular text (don't make it tiny, italic, a different color, or things like that), and that the very common practice of using brackets isn't necessary. Also, don't put them under a "keep reading"! Those often glitch or break, so you can't guarantee everyone who needs the ID will be able to get to it.

If you still want to read more about how to ID, this masterpost by @cepheusgalaxy is awesome (and helped me refind the specific resources I'm highlighting): https://www.tumblr.com/cepheusgalaxy/752115718263373824/image-descriptions-tips-tuts-masterpost

On a final note, the two best things for improving your IDs are to write a lot of them, and to read other people's! Many of us who do descriptions will tag the posts they ID with something like "described". In addition to anyone mentioned in this post already and anyone who made posts in the masterpost, I recommend looking at any of these blogs. Many have resources of their own on IDing, and some are just folks I've noticed are particularly good at IDs and could remember. @accessible-art @cannondisabledcharacters @can-i-make-image-descriptions @accessibleaesthetics @online-accessibility-sideblog @disabled-dragoon @disabledsun

Listen, I know we're all exhausted, but we gotta get better about adding image descriptions to disability related stuff. Everyone should be IDing everything anyways, but there's a particularly cruel irony in disability related stuff not being accessible to folks with low/no vision.

[sold2vlaykz]

CUNT! MICHAEL MYERS X F READER.

(Nothing but smutty smut.)

SCENE!

It’s late at night and Michael hasn’t been home for months. He usually disappeared like this, leaving you all alone.

And tonight you just happened to be horny.

You were in bed, in your room. Hands under the blankets pressing through your pants to get a feel at the outline of your wet area.

Legs clenched as you panted out, sucking your bottom lip heaving.

You could smell your clothed heat all around the room.

Michael destroyed your phone so you really didn’t have the accessibility to porn, so you thought about the only dick that’s driven you insane.

The only dick that you’re allowed to have.

“Hmph” your sweet echoes fill the room, your pussy clenching around the air begging to be filled. You toss the blanket off of you before doing a Quick Look around.

You pull down your pants in a hurry, scratching your skin in the process. You wince but ignore the pain.

Your hands immediately going to your soaking pussy down under, you positioned yourself before sinking a finger in, trembling around it.

Inserting another-

Two fingers sinking deep in your core. Pressing the tip of your fingertips at your G-Spot each press having earning a high pitched moan.

Your whining echoed throughout the halls, begging for him, it almost felt better knowing that you could call out with no shame because he wasn’t here. He couldn’t hear you be a desperate bitch for him. You were desperate for an evil motherfucker who couldn’t care less about anything or you.

You flip over with your back in the air and knees up, knuckles deep in yourself, a better angle on what spots to hit, hands covered in your wet juices.

“Fuck, Michael, God, fuck.”

His name was all in your mouth, leaving and coming back. You couldn’t help but lean into your own touch your hips bucking in the air, craving something long and hard pressuring your clit.

Wanting to relieve the feeling of your fingers doing its ritual cycle again.

You cried out in as your eyes went white, all that finger pounding and air thrusting almost topped off.

You went to thrust in the direction of your hand just to feel how deep you could go, how much more can you take or how long could you take it.

Mid swing when you hit something hard and solid.

Causing your hand to dig yourself deeper into you.

“Mmm oh!”

A long dragged out moan, cum dripping from your fingertips and whatever you soaked behind you.

You tilted your head back, leaning left to take a look at what you bumped into.

A blue jumper.

Michaels abdomen was all you saw, covered in your very cum. you dragged your eyes up to his face in shame and embarrassment, seeing his judging dark eyes through his mask full of nothing but lust and intent.

His heavy breathing coming out like fog in the dim moonlight.

He grabbed your hair and spun you around in a circle , your face now eye level with his clothed dick.

His hand pushed your skull, smushing your face into his area mouth full of hard and erect clothed cock.

You felt him twitch, the wet print he had created dabbing your smushed nose.

You could hear his deep guttural grunt beneath the mask.

Your eyes lock with his with a look of confirmation, all it took was a look in his eye before you reach up to undo his buttons, as he looks down on you. You pull his sleeves off, almost a bit bewildered he’s letting you touch him this much.

You lick his print once, before removing the waterline of his jumper.

He didn’t wear boxers of any kind, his dick kinda outgrew the last too small pair.

He waited for you to pull his cock out, your small hand pulling out his erect dick. His cock sprung free, dripping with pre-cum, your heart thumping with anticipation.

You went to lick the tip before he grabbed your neck and shoved your mouth on his cock, bobbing you up and down, until your nose was smashed against the base of his dick. He really didn’t enjoy any kind of teasing.

He moved your head left and right, up and down, until you hit his good spot letting you up every so often so you could breath.

He let you breath before throwing your head back towards the pillows chest up. Legs open with spit and cum all over your face.

He grabbed your leg to drag you towards the edge of the bed, taking a look before shoving his dick into you angling himself right.

He was quick with his thrust, deeper and deeper with each pull. Heat was radiating off of his skin His breathing had became heavier than before, his deep gasps and growls.

The sound of smacking and the bed creaking filled the room.

Nearing the edge of his climax he grabbed your back and pulling you closer aiming to reach as deep as he could, getting your cervix and bruising it with the chase to cum in you.

Sitting there as his cock softened itself in you.

He let out a loud grunt, you felt the splatter happen inside of you. He shoved his cum coated cock back in his jumper , his eyes lowered and more sleepy looking than they were.

-

REWARD HEADCANONS!

Michael is a very dominant guy, there will be no pegging, no submissiveness, nothing.

He takes what he wants, fucking you whenever he wants just because he’s horny.

Pounding even if it hurts, only stopping when he cum’s, even if you’ve already been milked out on his cock.

Sometimes he doesn’t even stop then, your ass covered in cum as he just pounds. You can hear his grunts and heavy panting under his mask.

Big into choking, he doesn’t even know that he is he just does it.

Wrapping one hand around your throat because that’s all that can fit, bruising your cervix every time you have sex.

Having to hold yourself up on whatever object he bent you over on, legs shaky and being unable to walk.

And even when you regain your ability, the soreness never goes away until weeks or even months later.

He rarely gives you time to heal before abusing your pussy once again.

Pushing your head down on the couch with your ass in the air, his huffing and puffing blowing fog from his mask.

He’s not really into grinding, he usually just takes his dick out and shoves it in.

Hates teasing. You tease him, he’ll give you a long choke while fucking you.

X

-AU First smut after writing break open to constructive criticism!

[theprettynosferatu]

CW: Non-consensual, Intox (aphrodisiac), Mind breaking.

Two years. Two fucking years of work down the drain. The worst two years of her life, working towards a goal she knows she’ll never see, and all because someone up the chain of command got bribed or threatened or who knows what else. What matters is someone fucking sold her out and now she’s bound up, staring at the gang of absolute sadistic freaks she has pushed herself so hard to infiltrate. 

Shit, the things she has done to be accepted as one of them! Well, “one of them” is stretching it. More like a trusted groupie, she figures. The amount of “slutty, fiery latina” acting she has been forced to do almost makes her throw up. It’s a stereotype and a racist one at that but damn it if these dumb motherfuckers raised by porn didn’t appreciate it, in a sick way. And all of it for a goddamn rumor.

They have this new shit, this kinda spray thing, makes any girl wanna fuck you like crazy… True Love, they call it.

Yeah, right. But still, the chance that such a drug could exist and flow through the streets, paired with some rather bizarre incidents of victims fighting to remain by their captor’s side… it was enough to try and get someone on the inside. And she’s ambitious, young, and most importantly, with the proper… attributes to play the gang-doll. Even now she almost wants to chuckle at the memory of the chief trying to explain that part, fighting so hard not to mention her ass. She’s not dumb. Wasn’t then, isn’t now. Without what she, modesty aside, considers the most spectacular ass in the city, the gang would have never even taken a second look at her. And she wouldn’t be here, now, tied up. 

Fuck. She realizes her mind is rambling, going on tangents, trying to escape the simple reality of the situation. She can’t move, and seven men are looking at her like she’s dessert, discussing exactly what to do to her. 

“Maybe we should use it, you know” one says.

She thinks she’s “it”, for a moment. She realizes she’s wrong as Karl, who has more muscles than brain cells and yet for some reason always calls the shots, removes one of the floorboards. Fuck! She has been in this warehouse dozens of times, looked everyone for evidence of the supposed magic drug, and has always come up snake-eyes. And it’s right fucking there, under the goddamn floor. What the fuck is it, the 1950’s? She’s tried every phone, installed keyloggers on laptops, learned every password- in her head, there had to be some clever operation at work, some devious method to keep such a huge deal secret. Nope. It’s under the fucking floor. She wants to tell them to untie her, just so she can kick her own ass. 

They laugh as they get naked, and a wave of shame crashes over her. She realizes she has seen all of these bodies before, and it makes her sick to her stomach. Sure, men get talkative when bragging and trying to get someone into bed. And men lower their guards after they bust a load- that is, if they don’t just roll over and fall asleep instantly. She has used that, over and over, to get information, to get chances to snoop.

Did she have to, though? That question has haunted her, and now it seems to grow solid, like a rock in her chest. Did she truly have to play up all those stereotypes to become some fucked up fantasy of whatever a hot latina is supposed to be? Did she have to buy all those booty shorts, those cheap jewels, those slutty heels? 

And didn’t a part of her enjoy the attention?

Fuck. Chances are she’ll die here, and she doesn’t want to die a delusional bitch. Yes, fine, being the center of attention felt nice. But the sex? No. That was awful. Pretending to be attracted to these meatheads, doing anything they wanted just so her reputation as a grade-A piece of ass would spread, faking orgasms…

Bull and shit. You’re dying here, Mariana. Stop lying to yourself. You didn’t fake all of them.

She’s yanked away from her little spiral of shame by the loud hiss of spray being applied. They’re passing a little can around, coating their cocks with… 

No. It can’t be real. It just can’t. There is no magic spray. It can’t possibly work. Sure, these idiots might think it does, but in reality, no, True Love isn’t a thing.

The images flow into one another like photographs. She knows, rationally, what is happening. A knife is cutting her bindings as two sets of hands are holding her arms. Her shorts are being sliced, ripped off her. Her legs are being held wide open for Meathead Karl. She files these things in her mind, and feels nothing. She’s there, but she’s not really there. Ah, yes. Dissociation as a defense mechanism for trauma. Mariana has read about it, and now feels mildly fascinated by the experience. 

The pain drags her back to reality. Her instincts kick in, and she braces for the suffering that is to come after that initial opening salvo. She grits her teeth, and…

The pain doesn’t come. She hears laughter as her eyes grow wide, a horrible realization dawning on her. The feeling between her legs is a warm thing, a pleasant thing, slithering up her body, unlike anything she has ever felt before. 

“Starting to hit you, Officer? Oh, this is just beginning”, someone says, his voice coming to her as if from a million miles away. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It’s real. Fucking True Love is real. Her mind reels, the interviews with previous victims rushing in her memories. The way they spoke about their abusers as if they were Gods. The way they defended them. The way they longed for them, like junkies going into withdrawal. She can’t become like them. She can’t lose herself like that. She can’t…

She can’t focus. Her mind is getting fuzzy as the delicious sensation reaches her nipples. Every inch of her skin feels sensitive, overwhelming. A pussy. My whole body is one giant pussy. She has no idea where the thought comes from, but it grows inside her as she squirms and little moans escape her lips. No. Don’t give them the satisfaction. Don’t moan. Don’t move.

“Oh, now you’re getting it. Don’t worry. It will get much, much worse”

Whose voice speaks? She can’t tell. She finds it harder and harder to care. Suddenly, her body betrays her as her hips start moving on their own, seeking pleasure, trying to coax the cock inside her deeper…

She feels on fire. She hates herself, hates how good every thrust feels, how much she needs more and more and more. Thoughts flood her, like a strange invasion taking over her mind. Cock. Cock feels good. Cock feels so fucking good. This is good. This is perfect. This is exactly what I should do. This is all I want. This is all I have ever wanted. Her mission starts to fade away. She can barely recall why she ended up being fucked like a good girl by this marvelous cock, and it feels so unimportant, so insignificant. Only the pleasure matters. She needs more. Her eyes cast around her. Cocks. Big, hard cocks, stiff for her. She starts drooling. The men laugh. She doesn’t care. There are hard cocks near her. Why aren’t they using her?

No. Snap back, Mariana. This isn’t you.

Why not?

Isn’t this better than whatever she was before?

One of the men lowered his body, his cock inches away from her face. She needs to taste it. She needs to wrap her tongue around it. She needs to worship it, body and soul.

“Oh, poor slut wants it?”

She’s not sure she understands the words. But she does understand, with a frenzied animal cunning, the desire behind them. They want her to beg. Some distant remain of sanity is pleading with her not to give in, not to surrender her voice, to keep some small part of her true self. It screams in vain.

“Please… give… cock…” she manages to mumble between moans.

“No. Not yet. You see, officer, your mind might be going, but your body is learning very fast. It’s so open now… And we intend to keep you around for a long time. No quick sell for you. So we need to… train you a bit”

Mariana knows the man is talking. The words don’t reach her until he starts playing with her nipples, and a single word takes over her entire existence.

“Cum”

She shakes. She screams. Her entire body is reduced to a single, shining sensation of absolute pleasure. She can feel something inside her breaking, giving in. She pants and a part of her expects the sensations to subside, but they don’t. If anything, the constant pleasure grows, leaving her right at the gates of another orgasm. She tries to grind, to move, to use the cock inside her to cum again…

“Not without permission, toy”, someone says. She almost manages to squeak out a complaint, but the stimulus is too strong. All she can do is squeal and moan.

The world swirls around her, colors heightened, bleeding into each other. She never wants to go back to the gray, solid, difficult past. She wants to stay here, be this- be pleasure.

“Cum”

Yes. She cums, and nothing else matters. This is all she needs. All she exists for. Her eyes are unfocused, her mouth hanging open. She feels the cock touch her lips before she even consciously sees it. The imperative is immediate. Suck. Lick. Take it deep in your throat. Use your tongue, pressure with your lips, the vibrations of your moaning. Use everything you are to please cock. 

“Cum”

Every time it gets stronger, going beyond whatever she ever thought possible. No mind can hope to withstand such a tidal wave of pleasure. As soon as she realizes they’re starting to move her, she hops up. The men don’t have to tell her what they want from her. She wants the same thing. She’s just holes. Holes need to be filled with cock. She impales herself on Karl’s dick and leans forward, letting him suck on her sensitive nipples, leaving her asshole ready, eager. She’s presenting herself like an animal in heat, and she’s loving every second of it. She’ll do anything to keep feeling like this, forever.

“Ass…” she manages to say.

“Not good enough, cunt. Come on, you can use your words better than that”

Words. Words for cock. Words to make cock happy. They own her words. They own her mind. They own her body.

“Please… use my ass… fuck my tight little hole… ram it hard! Wreck it! I need it so bad, need it so bad, need you to take me, take my ass, make me cum, never let me go, please please please…”

Even the pain feels good. Everything feels good. Humiliation feels good. Their mockery feels good. Their spit on her skin feels good. Obeying feels good.

One cock in her ass, using it with no care for her or any pain it might cause. One in her wet cunt, driving her mad. One in her mouth, using her like a breathing fleshlight. One in each hand, the promise of cum to come. This is it. This is bliss. This is heaven. This is all any woman could ever desire. This is home. 

“Such a good fucktoy…”, one mutters, trying to hold back his own orgasm.

The word infects her. Fucktoy. It starts overwriting everything inside her. Fucktoy. Her police training crumbles in her memory. Fucktoy. Her memories of her family fade away, forever. Fucktoy. Her hatred for cruel men vanishes. Fucktoy. Fucktoy. Fucktoy. It is all she is. All she has ever been. All she ever wanted to be. She’s mumbling it in between taking cock in her mouth. It rises like a gigantic obelisk in her mind, ruling over her, conquering all.

Fucktoy.

“Cum. Cum. Cum.”

Wave after wave of pleasure overtake her, crashing into each other, blasting away all that was and all that could ever be.

By the time she gets back something resembling consciousness, warm cum is coating her skin. She can feel the wonderful jizz inside her holes, taste it on her tongue still. She must have swallowed it. Like a good fucktoy. She feels so proud, so valuable, so beautiful. She made cocks cum. She was good. She was useful.

“Officer, remind me… what were you looking for?”

She looks at the man like a confused puppy.

“Cock?”

“I see. And what’s your name?”

She straightens up, full of pride. This one she knows.

“Fucktoy!”, she smiles.

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work and get access to the full library at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

[tommydarlings]

pairing: dom!astonmartin!seb x sub!reader

warnings: smut, dacryphilia, pussy eating

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +65 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

“Dir gefällt das, mein liebling… hab ich recht? Und lüg mich ja nicht an,” you like that, my darling…am I right? And don’t you dare to lie to me. Sebastian mumbled those words quietly to you as he glanced up at your shaking figure while his head was between your trembling thighs, palms fisting the sheets next to your hips as he smirked up at you.

Oh that cheeky motherfucker.

You gulped with a quivering bottom lip as you squeezed your eyes shut for a brief second to get the fresh tears out of your eyes, simply to see him better.

“Eyes on me, c’mon,” he swiftly slapped your inner thigh with his big palm, “want you to keep your pretty little bambi eyes on me, got it?”

You only nodded, without being sure if you even properly understood every single word he just said to you.

Before you could sniffle and wipe the heated tears on your red cheeks away, Sebastian mercilessly attacked your poor cunt with his hungry mouth again, tongue lapping on your big clit with such desperation, almost like a starved man.

You jumped and shrieked in a high pitched tone, throat all hoarse already from all the cries and pleads he forced out of you.

Sebastian groaned and closed his eyes, tongue and lips not stopping their sadly immensely pleasurable assault on your dripping pussy,

“God, I’ve waited so fucking long for this… waited all fucking day to finally eat that pretty pussy, tastes so good, I swear-” he broke his own sentence off by basically burying his face in between your thighs, slurping all of your dripping juice with growls and moans up while his hands kept your shaking legs apart, spreading them.

You gasped unstoppably, hands trying to reach out for his head to push him a bit away since it all just started to feel like to much but that didn’t help.

Sebastian shook his head and looked up at you with a stern gaze, voice deep, “do you really think that you have the strength to push me away from you? To push my head away from that pretty cunt that’s been begging for my attention all day?” He leaned down and sucked on your clit again, tongue sliding up and down your slit with closed eyes now,

“It’s no use, liebes,” love, “trust me… you’re way to weak and let's be honest here, we both know that you secretly want it,” he whispered the last part with a smug smirk, shoving his tongue into your entrance, groaning again,

“say it,” he collected some of your juice with his tongue and swallowed it all with one gulp,

“admit that you secretly want and slowly remove your hands from my head,” he mumbled in a raspy tone.

Slowly, you laid your hands down by your side again, trembling fingers gripping the sheets in utter desperation as the tears continued staining your cheeks, “S-Sebastian?”

He hummed into your pussy, “yes, my love?”

“I'm c-close,” you admitted in a hush tone before you threw your head back and arched your back as his hands glided up to your hips, holding your body down,

Sebastian grinned, “yeah?“ he mumbled before he chuckled, giving your clit passionate open mouthed kisses again before the tip of his tongue played with your clit, “well, I’ve noticed, baby…it’s quite hard not to,” you felt him smiling, his fingers caressing your hips as he groaned into your begging pussy.

[palmettoshenanigans]

I fucking- I can't find it right now, but whichever one of you motherfuckers said Andrew's 'lack of control' was actually just intentionally calculated releases of pressure, that he was always in control when he lashed out because he lashed out in very specific and measured degrees - every single 'too far' was always 'just enough', its just no one else saw the raging volcanic inferno brewing just beneath the floorboards cus they were too distracted by how ear piercing the sound of the tea kettle going off was-

You're so sexy and I love you, but I wanna respond to you in spirit cus I can't find your post babes

We love 'biblically accurate' and 'devil's sacrament' as religious phrases yea? Well, my favorite (aside from 'heated fellowship', a black christian euphemism for fucking nasty) happens to be to 'know' or more specifically to 'know biblically', another word/phrase for fucking someone nasty.

stay with me this is going somewhere i promise pack a bag if you must

The interpretation I was raised with was that sexual intimacy was so vulnerable and exposing of one's most inner authenticity (that which apparently only God had such access to) that sex could make someone Know and See you the way Christ did (yadda yadda, "only fuck other Christians cus they'll be saved and sanctified enough to honor that blessing", yadda yadda) ANYWAY

THE POINT IS

You ever have someone in your life who just,,, saw you? Like, they could take one look at you and just Intuit Through The Vibes that something was up? Like they could just feel your energy and knew what to do or say or whatever? The kind of person who could walk into a room where you're minding your own business, doing something mundane, and they take one cursory scan of your posture and immediately ask "What's wrong?" like,,, what??? why do you ask??? what do you mean 'you can tell', I'm not fucking doing anything???

The kind of being seen for who you are that just leaves you feeling kinda exposed and tender? The kind of thing that leaves you bereft and yearning if you've never experienced it before (or had but lost it) because it feels like everyone only likes different mirages of you?

Andrew and Neil are so Relationship Of All Time because they seemed to See and Know each other like that even before they started locking lips on rooftops.

When Neil said "I want to see you lose control", i'm imagining Andrew probably felt so naked and flayed because everyone assumed he was perpetually losing his grip. On his anger, on his sanity, on reality, on his control. But like,,, Op's Spirit Of Post Long Lost, you were so fucking right. Every bit of Andrew's behavior was carefully calculated and intentionally released packages of what was his True Inner Turbulence that he would never dare release out into the open because that's not a target he's willing to give anyone a chance at aiming for.

Out of control? Andrew hasn't been that since he was probably a tween.

But Neil had never been fooled. From cigarettes and airport pickups to cigarettes and rooftop altercations, not once had he fallen for the mirage.

Without ever having needed to touch him in that way, Neil Knew Andrew. Biblically.

And that's why Andrew simply had to engage him in heated fellowship.

[on-the-clear-blue]

Champion and King Pt1

(Since yall seemed to want this...)

Danny didn't know why he was doing this, didn't know why he agreed to try this for Clockwork...

He cursed the day he defeated Pariah Dark, that great petty bastard cursed him with something much worse than a missing limb or death.

Motherfucking paperwork

And centuries of it, sure there was some meager efforts done by the Ancients over the years but at some point they just stopped.

And now he was stuck behind a desk reading mind-numbing legal jargon trying to figure out what exactly the Observants wanted him to do, the most he was able to comprehend was they wanted support for an increase of dead from leprosy...from 800 BC.

He slapped it with his decline seal and moved onto the next, another plea for more funding by Walker, accepted and pushed to another bin.

Read, Stamp, put in Bin.

That was his life now.

He had become the lamest office worker whenever he wasn't at school or sleeping, he hadn't seen Sam or Tucker in what felt like years...

His eyes skipped over lines of text, sighing as he let the paper drop, his ink stained fingers rubbed at his eyes, yawning as he did.

Stretching back in his chair, Danny stared up at the ceiling of his office, feeling some calm come over his tired mind, his ceiling was covered with stars on pitch black, his eyes could pick out constellations known and unknown, one (and maybe only benefit) of being the Ghost King was that he had full access to all of the ghosts in the Realms, others who looked up to the stars and felt hope.

Watching the stars twinkle for another minute, Danny groaned before looking back to the piles and piles of paperwork, only pausing as there was a bright pink postit note stuck on the paper that he had recently tried to read.

It was both a welcome distraction and a troublesome thing, picking it up, Danny's eyes narrowed as he read.

'Dear King Daniel, I hope this note finds you well, a pressing matter has come to fruition that need your attention. Come to my tower, I wish to speak to you.'

Grumbling, the teen stood, wincing at the creak of his bones as he stretched, he is barely over 14! Why does he have a worse back then his father!

---

Floating through the purple door of the clock tower, Danny looked around for his supposed mentor.

Letting out a grunt as he was tackled from behind, the teen glared at the pint sized Clockwork grinning evilly up at him, "Sup Unc, took you long enough, were you in Ohio? That's totally not skibidi rizz my guy, never Ohio max Danny, it would destroy the time stream."

How is this the same person thst sent that flowery worded message from before? Simple, it was an older Clock Work, as his body cycles through ages, so does his words and how they are used...sadly.

Rolling the young Clock Work off himself, Danny glared for a moment before sighing, "if you brought me here just to sprout brain rot I am calling Technus and making him ban your accounts..."

The small Clock Work glared at Danny for a moment before shifting to a more mature form, "Truely if my excited form is too much for you I fear for the other citizens of the realm." Not letting Danny defend himself the now man steam rolled on, "But that matters not as of now, for I must instruct you on another Kingly duty that you have yet to do."

Danny sucked in a breath and tried to stop the growl that wanted to come out, he would save it for his office and his mountains of paperwork, "Another? I am already drowning in paperwork! I am this close to helping Vlad get my mom just so he teaches me the duplication trick he does!" Pacing the teen dragged his hands down his face, "I am barely in the 800s BC! Undergrowth doesn't need to help save a certain flower that can only be found on one island because it fucking sunk and became Atlantis! Did you know that's how I found out it was real? Fucking Atlantis is real and I found out through paperwork!"

As he ranted Danny gripped at his hair, tugging at it as he continued "I can't even process that because I have Walker up my ass, every second paper is him asking for more funding! Why does he need more ecto? He only has 5 inmates at a time?"

Clockwork o lyrics crossed his arms, watching as Danny raved onward, after he hit the five minute mark, Clock Work grabbed the teen by his shoulders and shook him lightly, "Daniel this will not be anything like the paper work, will you kindly cease speaking and let me tell you what it is?"

---

Billy yawned and decided that today would be a good day, it wasn't really anything that was about this morning that was unnormally good or nice, but Billy couldn't shake the feeling it was going to be great!

Stretching, as he shucked off his sleeping bag, the teen rolled off his sleeping pad and fumbled for his phone, a small rinky dink flip phone he had gotten with prepaid minutes.

Yawning again as he checked on the time, he nodded, he would be able to stop by the shelter in an hour to get breakfast, he could thr pop behind the general store to see if Mister Mathew had anything he needed help with/ was throwing out.

Shuffling around his makeshift area, Billy packed up his things, slotting them into an old military backpack he had been able to snag out of a dumpster, it only had a few holes! Practically brand new for a homeless kid.

Checking over his League communicator, he made sure that the world didn't end while he was sleeping, and set off for the day, humming a tune as he walked through the abandoned subways under his city.

Coming out to one of the less abandoned places, he waved at some of the kinder homeless population, he had been on the streets longer than most, but for some reason a lot of them still treated him like he was fresh out of a foster home.

Taking a deep breath as he came up into the light of day, Billy hummed, a smile on his face as he set to do his morning rounds.

---

Okay so it seemed like the day was purposely trying to make Billy get in a bad mood, the shelter denied him entry since they were full up, which is fine, he has protein bars in his backpack.

Then it seemed like Mister Mathew forgot to tell his new hire about their little deal so he got cussed out and chased off, which is again, is fine, he will try again later when he knows for sure that Mister Mathew is actually there.

No, what was the serious thing that was trying to make him have a bad day was the twenty story tall tentacles that were whipping around trying to destroy the better part of down town Fawcett city.

"Oh shiz...am heh." Shaking his head from his own little pun, the teen ran into a near by alley, did a once over to make sure there wasn't any unexpected viewers, and then called out the old wizards name, "Shizam!"

Lighting tore through the sky and slammed into his chest, in a flash of light Billy Batson, homeless 14 year old was gone, and where he stood was Captain Marvel, Champion of Magic.

---

He didn't do it on purpose, Danny swears mentally as he flew out of reach of the dark whip like tentacle, he still wasn't used to traveling by the Ring of Rage and well...his portaling wasn't as good as it probably should be...

Sending a blast of ecto at what he could only assume to be a being outside of his comprehension, Danny sneered at it "Oy grippy face! Leave the people alone! I brought you here dammit! Fight me you sad sack of calamari!"

Grinning as his taunts got him a feral grumbling and black ichor bubbling at what he could only assume a mouth was? He didn't really care as he focused on freezing the tentacle that missed him, stopping it before it could slam into a near by building.

But before Danny could attack the beast, he froze, his dead heart suddenly pounding in his ears.

After the portal accident, Danny instinctively had a sense about electricity, he could practically taste it when there was a high voltage.

And right now? His mouth was like an ozone ocean, his arm burned once again along the lines of his Lichtenberg scar, and with a boom that rattled Danny's core and left stars flying around his vision, a bolt of white lightning shot from a figure flying not to far away towards the great tentacle beast, making it squeal in pain.

But Danny was still frozen, eyes wide and hands shaking, as another bolt of brilliant white shot out from the being, a man in a scarlet suit, a snow white cape fluttering behind him, and a golden lightning built across his chest.

Danny was not going to have fun this fight isn't he?

[etherealily]

🄱🄻🄴🅂🅂🄴🄳​ // ​🇳​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇯​​🇦​​🇨​​🇴​​🇧​​🇸​.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. SFW, but discretion advised. 🍃.

Part 1 : Whiplash

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 4 : Shards

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Tiny glimpse into his mind because why not?

Desc. : "His hand, so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face."

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

It's not like Nate even knew you.

You just so happened to be the secret to his success, and maybe, perhaps his new obsession.

No biggie.

I mean, whole of the first week of spring break, he didn't text you, you didn't text him, and it was all great and normal.

Pissed him off to no end, because how the hell did you recover so quickly from having a fucking gun in your throat? But, hey, whatever. Maybe you were just that goddamn weird.

The second - and last - week of spring break was when shit got intense.

Because he thought about you.

He realized he hadn't even fucking seen you around town the entirety of it, and that might have freaked him out, just a little.

He worried, you see? Yes, only about his games, and his college apps, but now, all of them had been tied to you, with a pretty little bow around them.

So obviously, now he worried about you.

So, obviously, he needed to find out just where the hell your lucky ass had gone.

He narrowed it down to two options. Both perfectly reasonable, of course.

One, you just had tons of work and stayed indoors.

Two, you had been kidnapped and murdered by the opposing teams because they'd found out about your miracle-working.

See? Perfectly reasonable.

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

It was a happy surprise to learn that you were basically closer to his house than you'd ever been before, after you'd taken up a job at the local supermarket.

Well, happy for him.

For you, it was more of a you-were-seriously-contemplating-suicide surprise.

"You listen to Elvis Presley?", he asked, dropping his purchase down on the counter. Your eyes never moved to it, and stayed on his.

That was one thing he noticed about you.

You were always observing, as if he were a rabid animal that would strike at any moment. As if he would reveal his sinister intentions to you within enough time for you to react.

"What?"

He nodded at the speakers on the wall around the establishment. "Those connected to your Spotify?"

You didn't want to answer unless you knew whether he was about to compliment or mock you.

"Sir, I think you should leave."

God fucking damn it. Why had he never thought about the fact that you wouldn't - (and couldn't)- call him a motherfucker at your workplace? His joy knew no bounds.

"That's so hot. Say it again."

You'd 100% expected that. It was clear on your face.

"There's other people behind you with more items to check out."

He swiveled his head around for a moment.

Old lady. Sometimes he wished he wasn't raised right.

He sighed, nodding. "I'm next up, though.", he warned sternly, pointing at you as he gestured for her to pass him by.

The old lady patted him on the shoulder and smiled, moving ahead with her purchase of an unholy amount of bread and cheese.

And what's worse?

She had coupons.

Way too many for Nate to stand smiling like a good boy behind her as she dug into her purse and fished out probably decades worth of them.

"Yes, dear, so just run all these."

"Uh, ma'am, I wish I could, but most of these are expired."

Thank god.

"Oh, well, you said most. Let's just sort through them and find the ones that aren't expired."

Would it be homicide to kill her? She didn't really have too long to live, anyway. He couldn't say he hadn't thought about it.

"Uh, okay, yeah, sure."

"This'll just take a minute, sweetie.", she whispered to Nate, pinching his cheek as if that would make time go by faster.

"How about I pay for you, ma'am? If that's alright?"

If he'd been allowed access to your mind, you'd never live it down, because you almost thanked him right then and there.

"Oh, there's no need for that, dear, I can-"

"No, please, I insist. It would be my pleasure."

"What a sweet boy."

Both her and Nate decided to ignore the derisive snort that came out of you as you swiped his card.

"Here you go, ma'am.", you smiled, placing the copious amounts of cheese into the bag, then stuffing the bread in, too. "Anything else?"

"Oh, no, that's it for me. God bless you, dear. Both of you."

Watching her walk out, he began to genuinely wonder if this absurd purchase was all part of some scheme some criminal had put up to steal without your knowledge.

"You hear that? We're blessed, you and me."

"Do you actually have anything to buy?"

"Of course I do. I'm not a creepy stalker.", he hissed, slamming his palm down in front of you. Slowly, he lifted it to reveal a stack of eleven condoms.

Oh, yeah, you were blessed with this fuckass' presence.

You sucked your teeth as your gaze traipsed from the condoms up to his eyes. One of them winked.

"Is that all?"

"Oh, come on, you're not even curious why I have them?"

"Probably for the dozens of bitches you're getting.", you scoffed, ringing it up. "$15.99."

"For eleven individual condoms?!"

You shrugged. "Inflation."

"Oh, they better inflate for the amount of money I'm spending."

He rolled his eyes, mumbling to himself as he pulled out the money from his wallet, instead of his card. "Fucking old lady with her bread and cheese."

"You maxed your card?"

"Yeah. Why do people buy so much shit they're barely ever going to use?"

"Like you with your condoms?"

Ah. Nate could've absolutely lost his shit laughing right there- you did care.

"I'm going to use it all. Trust me."

How many times was he going to use the phrase 'trust me' on you until he realized the meaning had eroded away into nothingness between you two? Probably a dozen more.

"Sure. Thanks for shopping with us. Have a great day."

He pouted, stuffing the packets into his pocket as he raised a brow. "You don't sound like you mean it."

"Nate-"

"And why are you even working here, anyway? Oh, shit, is it 'cause I cost you your internship with your perv boss?"

If he felt bad, the grin on his face wasn't really screaming guilt.

"No, fuckass, this is my friend's store, he just wanted someone to help him out for a couple hours."

"Whoa, wait, what happened to Sir? I liked that better."

That was a lie. He fucking loved it.

"Please, Nate. Stop."

"One condition."

There it was. It no longer seemed like he saw you as anything more than a boredom buster. Sudoku, or a crossword, basically. That was you to him.

"Answer one question, truthfully, and I'll leave this... otherwise empty store right after."

"I'm listening."

God, that's all he fucking wanted to hear, and it was oddly exciting. He could literally say anything, and you wouldn't block him out.

"What would you do if I told you that I have a body in my car right now?"

"What?"

"A body. A dead body. It's in my trunk. Right now. What would you say? What's your next move?"

It's like he expected you not to notice the fact that he was tracing shapes on your arm as he spoke.

"Cops."

At this point, even if he wasn't bluffing, you'd still have reacted so nonchalantly. Because it was all in all tiring to continue to play whatever twisted game he was playing.

"They're not an option. It's either silence or help me. Would you help me hide it?"

"Nate, did you kill someone?"

"No."

"Then why even ask?!"

"It's a hypothetical."

"No, probably not."

He tsked, looking away for a moment. "Wrong answer."

"Well, it's my answer."

He brought his fingers up to your face, and your slight flinch meant absolutely nothing to him. Imaginary hearts now plagued your skin. "Change it."

"My answer? No."

"Please."

"Nate, did you kill someone?", you asked once more, praying for an actual answer this time, be it in the negative or the positive.

He smirked.

"Thanks for the condoms.", he whispered, grinning as he gave your cheek a light pat - that was dangerously bordering on a slap.

Would your trunk be big enough to fit his body? You thought about it the rest of the day.

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

His fingers rapped on his dashboard as he watched his phone, set down on speaker on the dashboard, too. Pick up, pick up, pick up.

"Hello?"

Yes. He'd never been this happy to hear someone's voice, and it kinda freaked him out. Okay, whatever. Not important.

"Y/N."

"Who is this?"

"The guy you broke all the rules with before spring break? Made out with on the bleachers?"

"You need to be more specific."

"You better be kidding."

"Of course I am." He had never felt more relieved to hear your stupid ass laugh. "What do you want? I'm not helping you hide a body."

He debated just asking you where you'd been all this time, why you hadn't shown up to a single party or hangout, but he decided he'd just outright ask the real question he needed answered.

"Which one's your window?"

A pause. "What?"

"The one with red or yellow curtains?"

"Nate."

"Red or yellow, babe?"

"Red." Good. You'd gotten so used to him that you didn't waste time pointing out the obvious by asking 'are you outside my house?!'.

"You sure it's not yellow?"

"That's my parents' room."

"Yellow looks more tempting.", he teased, as he shut the car door.

"I'm not messing around."

"Neither am I. Yellow it is."

"Nate!"

This was far too precious to him. You were actually worried. How cute.

The fact that he had to climb up wasn't really making him jump in joy, but he figured you'd enjoy that little touch of vintage chivalry.

Like fucking Rapunzel.

He tapped on your window once.

No answer. Don't fucking play around right now.

He knocked once more.

He was met with your extremely delightful glare as you slid your window up, watching him closely.

"Hey."

"Dude, you-"

"Shh, shh, shh. Let me in.", he mumbled, crouching to cram himself through, his hand still resting on the top of the pane.

"You're insane."

Immediately grabbing your face after he steadied himself, he hissed through gritted teeth, "Where the hell have you been?"

"What?"

"I didn't see you at all before today!"

"Yeah, we got a lot of work to do over spring break."

"This is why you don't take psychology, because you get stupid amounts of homework even during the holidays.", he muttered, as if he'd warned you about this eons ago.

"What do you want?"

"Party. You. Me. Now. Get dressed."

He almost punched you when you started laughing.

"You actually do have a sense of humour, Nate, good for you."

"I'm not kidding. Come on."

"No way in hell."

"You know what? No need to get dressed. You look great. Just come on. Live a little."

"You've already taken me to 'live a little' before, and I ended up shitfaced with a gun in my throat at school at 12:30 am."

Good. So you hadn't gotten over that. He didn't care if he was being sadistic - he was glad.

He sighed, flopping down onto your bed and ignoring the second glare to come from you that night. "This is so typically a teenage girl's bedroom."

He had no clue what he was saying, at this point. But he knew he was itching for a reaction, a reason for you to hit him again, so he could grab you and shut you up. He craved the conflict.

"Surprising, considering that's what I am."

"I mean, the band posters? Really?", he huffed, pointing around at your room as if he was giving you a tour of it.

"Have you even listened to Queen? Presley? Any of the oldies?"

The match was found. Time to light it.

"So the shitty music in the store was connected to your playlist.", he chuckled, shaking his head. "No wonder that old lady was so nice to you. She thought you were one of her Bingo buddies."

It was just a question of how long you could stand him sitting on your bed, disrespecting your music taste.

"If you're only here to invite me to a party, I'm sorry, I'm not coming."

"How would your family like me hanging out here?", he mused, tilting his head. You know, the one you'd probably love to bash into the pavement given a chance? That head.

You were so fucking hot when you were pissed, it was unbelievable to him. He could sense it, the anger.

The smell of your rage made him want to riot.

"You can't keep blackmailing me into doing what you want."

"Alright, fine."

Your uncomfortable frown made him snicker. "What's that look?"

"This is usually the part where you self-harm and tell me I'm being a bitch for not bending to your will."

"Tonight's different."

"Why?"

Because I'm going to unwrap every fucking secret of yours.

He shrugged, the corners of his lips curling downwards. "I don't want to."

"So, you'll leave?"

"I didn't say that.", he trailed off, watching you sit down on the chair across from your bed. "Let's just chill."

"Nate, when have you and I ever chilled?"

He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes at you, before giving you a sly smirk. His fingers emerged from his pocket as he pulled out a packet of pre-rolleds. "Right now."

"You're kidding."

"C'mon. Don't be a pussy."

"They'll smell it."

He lolled his head over to the door. "No, they won't. You're two floors up." He shifted to one side, patting the space next to him. "Come on, Y/N, don't end your badass streak so quickly."

His eyes followed you as you sat down gingerly, rubbing your forehead like he was causing you a genuine migraine. That's funny, she hasn't even seen me high, yet, (and she won't).

"Why do I let you do this?"

"Million dollar question if I ever heard one.", he scoffed, fumbling around his person for a lighter. He found it, placing the cigarette between his lips and lighting it, causing his next catastrophic words to come out a mumble. "But I'm glad you do."

He continued to watch your eyes change from frustration to mild fascination, to hesitation all in one second, as he puffed out through his teeth. "Fuck.", he groaned, handing it to you.

"I don't know about this."

"You think they'd like me?", he mused, looking at the door, and then back at you. "I'm known to make a good impression with parents."

"The no-blackmail thing didn't last long.", you huffed, taking it from him. Nate almost made out with you right then and there, the way your lips wrapped around it as if they were made only for him.

"Didn't want to break tradition.", he snorted as you coughed and sputtered, handing it back to him quickly.

"Gross."

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

The last thing he'd expected from that evening was actually staying. He'd thought he'd get you stoned, you'd pass out, and he'd leave.

But here you were.

Next to him.

Freaking him the hell out.

He looked down at his watch. 2 AM. Fuck.

"I gotta go."

"You've been saying that for the past three hours."

Shut up. "Eh, well, it's not like my parents are worried."

"Why not?"

"They know I can handle myself."

"Right, because I'm such a threat."

"God, no. They'd love you." He shook his head subtly, grinning as you nudged his face playfully with your foot from across the bed. "You should come over, sometime."

"I'm not coming over, Nate."

The weed made sure you didn't push him away when he gently grabbed your leg. "Why not?"

"Because we're not friends. There's no reason for me to meet your parents."

"I just think it's right that you get to judge my room, too.", he muttered, lips on your ankle like it was his life support. "You know, justice or whatever."

"It's probably all monocoloured, plain, boring crap."

"Only one way to find out.", he teased.

He despised the silence that followed. High-you wasn't exactly chatty, it seemed.

"Tell me something about you."

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "Anything."

"This is my first time smoking weed."

"Not exactly a secret, sweetheart."

"You didn't ask for a secret."

"Now I am. Tell me a secret."

"I hate football."

You were more resilient than he thought, seeing as you'd smoked three cigarettes already, and the most you'd given him was your sports preferences.

But he'd take what he got.

"Because of me?"

"No, just generally."

"But you came to games.", he countered.

"Because of Maddy."

"You guys are close?"

You nodded, stirring slightly as you looked out your window. "Mhm."

"So she told you." Shit.

You tilted your head, sitting up as he gripped your calf, moving closer and placing kisses on your knee, too. "About?"

Well, if you didn't already know, no need to tell you.

"To come to the games."

"Oh. Yeah."

Nice save, Jacobs.

"I guess now I owe you a secret, huh?"

"I guess you do."

"You're not gonna like it.", he murmured, lazily tracing even more shapes on your knee, while his other hand had trailed up to your arm. "But I love your lips."

He smiled when the corners of your eyes crinkled up and you burst into a fit of giggles. "What?"

"It's true. They're perfect."

"God, I love weed."

You would, seeing as you smoked more of it than he did. Enough to kind of make him feel slightly guilty.

"It's not just the weed saying this.", he continued, shaking his head. "I'd fight wars for those lips. For you."

He shouldn't have liked the fading of your laugh so much, the slight trepidation brewing on your face, either, but for some reason, he did. "Nate, I'm not... I don't wanna-"

"Be fought for? Why not?"

He took the silence as a cue to brush his finger against your cupid's bow. "You don't think you deserve it?"

He watched your lips move under his finger as you shook your head, side to side. "Well, I do. And, guess what?"

"What?"

"I got another question for you."

Your frown was your response.

"Why didn't you push me away when I kissed you that night on the bleachers?" He knew the answer. Of course he did.

"I was drunk."

"Yeah, see, you weren't that drunk.", he taunted. But no, you were. He'd given you basically one and a half bottles. Just like tonight, taking barely ten puffs while you took thrice as much. You just hadn't noticed.

"I don't know, then."

"I just think that if you didn't push me away, it can't have been the terrible experience you made it out to be, in the car."

"What do you want to hear, Nate?"

"That you want to do it again. 'Cause you do. Don't you?"

"I don't."

"Yes, you do. If you could see your own eyes right now, you'd agree."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

He waited for a reaction, a scoff, an eye roll, anything, but you just looked back at him, and then down at the hand he was holding. Oh, it was the weed.

So he took matters into his own hands. No. He took you into his own hands, tracing the gap between your lips with his tongue before he pushed it in.

Your lips were war-worthy, just like before. But this time, something was different. This time, you kissed back.

There we go.

His hands ran over your back as though he were splaying a huge deck of cards across a table, and he came to the grave realization that maybe, just maybe, he was no longer doing this just for a reaction.

"Come here.", he murmured, making up for his lack of oxygen by trying to steal yours as he pulled you onto him. How Shane Crestin hadn't killed himself over the fact that he'd fumbled this bag, he'd never know. Loser.

His hands slipped under your shirt. Wrong move, seeing as you pulled away. "No."

Wasn't weed supposed to last longer?

"What?"

"I'm not... no."

"You seemed into it, like a moment ago. Face it : you want this. No amount of bullshit self-respect or whatever you wanna call it, is going to change that.", he responded, coolly, as he took a drag from the blunt, his lips immediately feeling the lack of yours.

"You're just trying to get back at Maddy."

God, he wished that were true. Would make much more sense.

He sighed, his forehead on yours. "I'm not, but you're not going to believe me.", he mumbled, watching you get off him and move back to the other side of the bed.

Oceans away. Too fucking far.

"I'm sorry." There was something he hadn't said in a while. "For, like, everything."

"Why am I so fucking important to you? If I just showed up to every game for you, would you leave me the fuck alone? No, you wouldn't, because you sought me out during spring break! Am I just an easy target?"

No. "I don't... I don't fucking know, okay? You just are."

"Is it 'cause you hate me?", you questioned, so quietly that he had to debate whether to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness or actually kill himself in guilt for eliciting it.

"What?"

"Do you hate me?"

"For what?" He had no fucking clue what this could be about. Every single thing he'd done so far indicated the opposite. But he didn't want to let himself go there.

"Being your good luck charm."

Oh. He had to think about that one. "No. It would be weird if it was someone else."

"I just mean... it must be frustrating, when you need someone, and they might not always be there."

"But you will, right? Be there?"

"You scare me, Nate."

He scoffed, slightly, rolling his eyes. "You're unbelievable. Why? Gimme one reason - a real one - why you're scared of me."

"You're violent."

Okay, he was hoping you'd give an invalid one.

"I like beating people up.", he shrugged. "But never for no reason."

"Not exactly a secret, sweetheart. And anyway, it's not only the beating up that you like."

"Hm?"

"You like getting beat up, too."

Remind him never to give you weed again.

"Why would I-"

"On some level, you feel like you deserve it.", you replied, shrugging as you took a long puff of the miracle weed that apparently made you unreasonably perceptive.

Okay, confirmed, not even the word weed would be mentioned around you anymore.

"You think I deserve it?"

"Mostly, yeah. But not... all the time."

"How do you know so much?", he asked, watching your fingers get lost in your hair. He couldn't afford eye contact.

"Psychology."

"See? You shouldn't have taken it. It's creepy."

You sighed, smiling as you looked up at the ceiling. "Sorry."

He did not expect you to back down, that was for sure.

"It's fine. Never giving you weed again, though."

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

It actually took until the very last day of spring break for him to catch up with you again. Not like he was pissed that you pushed him away, or anything. Or that he was confused about the entire interaction in the bedroom of someone who, until three weeks ago, he wouldn't have been caught dead talking to. He was just busy. Sure. Let's go with that.

"Hey."

"Not now, Nate."

"What is your problem?" Wait, no. That kinda talk was why you were pissed at him. "Look, we should start over."

God, he sounded like a cunt. This was definitely something that pathetic Shane Crestin would say. Ew.

"Okay. Can you start by going over there?", you asked, restocking the shelves with whatever bullshit condiment you had to.

"I'm an ass. I'm a jerk, I'm- I'm a dick."

You were silent for a moment, before you added: "A small one, too."

He sighed, beaming with relief. "A small one, too.", he agreed, nodding. "I'm just here to ask you over to dinner. My house. I'll even cook."

Dude, if you didn't agree, he'd actually fucking kill you.

"No way you cook."

"Only one way to find out."

He saw the falling apart. The gradual breaking down. The glacier was melting. "I'll listen to Queen or whatever, with you."

The quiet was taunting him, but you came to his rescue. "No steak."

"No steak."

Yes. Fucking yes.

[e8luhs]

i didnt realize i had OCD for a long time. i never talked about it with anybody because i just never took it very seriously i suppose. everything i read about OCD would make me say "yeah i get that but its not that bad" and often the way that OCD is described its like people think its some magical fucked up thing that your brain is doing to you. for me that just... isnt the case. i thought for a long time i NEEDED to have moral scrupulosity to be a good person. a lot of the obsessions that i have are very rooted in some form of reality for me. i have OCD spirals about homelessness because i dealt with housing insecurity for years, got kicked out by my mom, and jumped into another abusive situation immediately afterwards where homelessness was held over my head to keep me in line again. i pore over my budgeting spreadsheet and calculate all of my finances for the next 3 months in advance several times over and over again because when i get the wrong numbers it scares me and i need to make sure im doing it right. i was like... well its not like im locking my door 6 times exactly to make sure that my dog doesnt die so i guess that couldnt be me. not to say that thats not how it can manifest for some people and i can see where the internal logic would get you from point a to point b in that case still but you know what i mean. i just took that very literally so i never knew

i know im mentally ill but i dont Know that im mentally ill sometimes. like i dont realize the depths in which being mentally ill affects me until someone actually lets me talk about how my thought process works on a fundamental level. same with being traumatized really. its always like i can talk about what happened to me and i can talk about my symptoms in concept but i never talk about how i really truly feel about anything and when i do it just hits me like ohhhh. this isnt normal.....

[thehaberdasheress]

Great news! After a ton of work, I've got my business's 2024 Kickstarter up and running! It's live now until Sunday, November 17.

I have a lot of projects underway that this project will help me see to fruition, including:

Embroidery/historical costume kits with good materials and accessible instructions

A digital sewing pattern for what can be a partlet, if you're feeling nerdy, or a way to bring damn cool sleeves to whatever outfit you want if we're being modern about it

A system of patterns and stencils that bring intricate freehand Elizabethan embroidery down from (imo) terrifying complexity to an accessible art project

And/yet/also, I know myself. I am a bit of an ADHD chaos goblin with chronic pain. So I've learned from Kickstarters past, and made sure to center the campaign around rewards that I can be certain of delivering. That is, this campaign absolutely will include vouchers for free or discounted copies of those projects if they're funded and they happen! But I know they will take time and definitely not arrive by Christmas 2024.

Therefore: I've been designing a bunch of new items that I can be sure of! I wanted to be able to show off my embroidery patterns in new and interesting ways, and find different methods of fulfillment that are ready to roll out the moment the campaign ends and I get your shipping information.

If you've ever wanted to get all the unique patterns I design for my Etsy shop in a charted PDF format? Backing my Kickstarter is the way you get that.

Some of my most popular designs will be available as decorative stickers, paper bullet journal-style productivity stickers, and a mug!

There are a lot of others, and I'll probably detail more about them over the next week and a half, but it's past 4am so I'll keep this relatively short. The outlines are up on the Kickstarter. Here's the one I'm the most excited about:

Motherfucking CUSTOM-WOVEN throw blankets!

I made the design myself, as the intersection of my obsessions with medieval celestial ceilings, sacred geometry, marine navigation, Tolkienian Elvish heraldry, and quilting. It's called "Mariner's Star", and I'm incredibly excited about it. If you don't know about jacquard looms and how they were 19th century punch card proto-computers, I think you're missing out.

Kickstarter link here!

It ends Sunday, Nov 17!