#af rehab

[afrehab]

Rehabilitácia

Naše rehabilitačné centrum poskytuje fyzioterapiu a rehabilitáciu detí a dospelých. Sme jediné oficiálne špecializované pracovisko na SM systém (SPS Spirálna stabilizácia) na Slovensku. Na našej rehabilitačnej klinike nájdete aj certifikovaných terapeutov Vojtovej metódy. V praxi používame aj ďalšie rehabilitačné metódy podľa individuálnych potrieb klientov.

[confinesofmy]

me and my cousin i'm barely on speaking terms with (but in a relatively casual way) repotted her deceased grandmother's pothos today. this was our first time actually properly repotting it bc last summer it was in such a fragile state and we were so scared to hurt it that we just lifted it out of its pot and placed it in a bigger one but this go round we basically dismantled it entirely. we got eight discrete plants and placed it into four different pots!! in nine months it went from the edge of death to that many plants and like ninety leaves altogether. so if you're bad with plants but still wanna fool with them, i guess you should get a pothos.

[pineyw00dsshesquatch]

I just got an accidental cat. He's been here almost a week, he was crying at our door last Sunday night. I live WAY in the boonies, so I think some buttcrack dumped him out here.

We haven't named him yet, he's very young and affectionate, still has bawwls, but imma have a vet cut em out soon. I'd like to have him be more inside, but my resident house cat, Briggy is a certified C'OONT. It's ok, outside boi gets the best scraps.

I need a name for this sweet young man soon.

[liberty-spiked]

my local headshop moved up the street and not only did they play The Interrupters, no they have a pettable and love-addicted dog there 😭

[puck-luck]

evening embrace | jack hughes

warnings: oral (m! & f! receiving) aka 69 BABYYYY!!!!! whiny jack, silly jack, established realtionship af, very domestic pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader request: "jack hughes coming home from practice or a game all grumpy and frustrated and just ranting endlessly about whatever is pissing him off so u just casually decide to give him head mid-rant. without a word you just start palming him over his pants while he’s mid sentence and he’d be like “baby, what are you doing?” and you’d casually make your way to your knees with a shrug and say “you’re stressed, seem like you could use some relief” and once you’ve got his dick out and you’re about to bring it to your lips you’d say “you can continue with your ranting baby, promise i won’t get distracted” with an innocent little pout i-" wc: 4423

Jack had a bad day. The Devils just had their first few preseason games and Jack, although he felt ready to get back into his normal routine, feels like his shoulder injury from last season is still a little tender. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment that he snapped, but he thinks that he blacked out around the time when he missed a pivotal pass that resulted in a breakaway and goal in the game today. He’s never been so angry after a game– and this is just preseason.

He bursts through the door to your shared apartment, already ranting. 

“This is shit,” Jack complains, dropping his bags in the doorway and kicking off his shoes. 

“What’s shit, Jacky?” You ask from the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and reading a book. Now that he’s home, though, you set the book down and give him your attention.

“I’m not playing good enough,” Jack huffs out, frustrated and annoyed. “It’s my stupid shoulder. I’ve rehabbed it, I’ve gotten it fixed through surgery, and I still feel like I’m not playing at 100%.”

“Aw, honey, come sit,” you say, patting the cushion beside you. 

Jack stalks over, collapsing onto the couch cushions and pulling you onto his lap. He kisses you hello before going back to his ranting. 

“I knew I needed to work more on my wrister before the game,” he says. “But Keefe wanted us to run drills at camp so that we could be better all-around.”

You hum when you need to, but Jack’s just complaining and pouting. He had a tough day and wants to get all of his negative thoughts out, knowing that you don’t mind listening to him when he has problems.

“And I appreciate being a good team all-around, you know,” Jack continues. “But there should be times during practice when a guy can go work on his own shit, which will make the team better overall once he’s perfected the skill.”

“Maybe you can talk to Nico about that,” you murmur, tracing the letters on Jack’s shirt. 

“I don’t want to be that guy,” Jack grumbles. “It’s a team sport. If Keefe wants us to practice as a team, then that’s what we’ll do. He’s the coach.”

You nod absentmindedly, adjusting yourself on Jack’s lap. Your hand continues to pet over his covered chest as he talks. His muscles are defined; it’s clear that he put in the work during his time off. You know he did, actually. You’ve watched his body swell and gain muscle mass over the summer and you’ve been able to see the changes up close and personal.

But not this past week: training camp started and Jack has been so tired and stressed out that he’ll come home, eat dinner with you, and collapse into bed with nary a makeout sesh anywhere. He’s been too tired to get off with you, although you know it relaxes him and helps him keep his mind clear, so you haven’t pushed.

Yet, as he talks about his day, you can’t stop thinking about how much better this would be if your lips were wrapped around his dick.

Your hand drops to his lap, palming his length over his shorts and interrupting Jack’s sentence.

He catches your wrist. “Baby, what are you doing?” Jack asks. “I’m talking to you.”

You blink up at him innocently, moving from his lap and sliding down to the ground. You situate yourself prettily on your knees, right between his thighs. Again, you touch the front of his shorts, rubbing the area like you’re giving him a handjob over his pants. “You seem stressed,” you tell him, simply. “Like you could use some relief.”

Jack’s mouth is agape, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “I– um, yeah, I mean, I guess I’m stressed,” he replies, agreeing with you with an additional nod.

“Let me help,” you offer, cupping his bulge with your hand before leaning in to brush a fleeting kiss against the growing tent. You mouth along for a moment before bringing his waistband down, revealing his tight boxer-briefs. His semi is much more noticeable in just the underwear, straining more against the fabric as he grows harder. You fit your lips over the tip of his cock and suck slightly, through his shorts, just to make Jack jump.

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, touching the back of your neck hesitantly. He moves like he’s still confused and not quite sure what’s happening.

“Keep talking, baby,” you say to him as you pull his length out of his underwear and start to stroke it. You press a kiss to the crown of his cock, then pull back. “I’m listening. I promise I won’t get distracted.” You blink up at him through your eyelashes, watching countless emotions pass over Jack’s face before you kitten-lick over his slit and hum in approval. 

“It’s just hard,” Jack says, his eyes still wide and blown because of the shock that came over him when you made your bold move. “To, uh–”

He trails off, gesturing helplessly as your tongue traces the veins on the underside of his cock. You hum, bobbing your head in a commiserating, blatantly sarcastic nod. You know what you’re doing to him. You know that Jack goes boneless whenever you suck him off, that he promptly loses his words when you gag on his cock. 

So, you pull away from him. You let your spit pool where it lay while your lips were around him– able to use it as lube as you pump him, blinking up at him like you’re unimpressed. “C’mon, J. I thought you had things to be frustrated about.”

“I do!” Jack exclaims, finding his words after your mouth parts from his body.

“Oh, you do,” you repeat, a smug little smile on your face. “So tell me about it.”

“I– well– it doesn’t matter now,” Jack whines, his hips twitching under your calm palm. 

You furrow your brow and tilt your head to the side. “It doesn’t?”

Jack covers his face with his hands and makes a frustrated noise.

“Well, if that doesn’t matter, then why am I doing this?” You ask, feigning complete confusion even as you continue to stroke him. Jack has obviously gotten side tracked– and the relief of your mouth is like a wet rag on a dry erase board: it wipes everything completely clean and fresh. “I thought I was offering you something sweet to make up for your bad day.”

“You are, just– stop stopping!” 

You move your head from side to side with each word in your response: “You can’t make me!”

At a stalemate, Jack deflates. He frowns to himself, then pointedly at you. You’re still stroking him, just teasing him, waiting for him to sweetly ask you to continue until–

Jack pulls you up onto the couch and takes your place, sinking to the ground on his knees with his pants and underwear pooling around his ankles. He doesn’t bother to take his clothes off before he touches your leggings reverently with a light ghosting of his fingertips. He brushes a sweet kiss against the inside of your thigh as he touches you, but the sweetness and teasing doesn’t last very long.

“How was your day?” Jack asks with a smirk and another kiss to your covered skin. He pulls at the waistband of your leggings, dragging them down your legs in a totally obvious way.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you warn.

“Not doing anything,” Jack teases. 

“Don’t lie to me, Jack Hughes.”

“Full name,” Jack notes offhandedly. He licks his lips and rubs his thumb along your slit, still covered by your godforsaken panties. If he’s going to do something, he had better do it. “Just giving my baby a taste of her own medicine,” he adds.

“My day was fine, thank you very much,” you retort.

Jack hums, fiddling with the edge of your panties, the part of the underwear that’s covering his favorite part of you. “What’d you do?” He asks.

“I showered,” you say.

“Without me,” Jack adds. You don’t have time to berate him for acting like a fuckboy– not when he starts mouthing over your hipbones until he finds the waistband of your panties. He takes the band between his teeth and drags the fabric down to meet your leggings. All the while, he stares up at you with his own wide, blown, horny eyes. 

“And I had breakfast, then I worked for a while, then I got lunch with my coworker like I told you about last night–” You continue, but Jack interrupts, pulling away from your bare cunt.

He pouts a bit. “What coworker?” Jack asks. “Who was it again?”

You muster the courage to glare at him. Jack just grins, his thumb sweeping through your folds like he hasn’t got a care in the world. 

“Sadie,” you remind him. “The new girl in accounting.”

“Oh, Sadie,” Jack drawls, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. “How could I forget about Sadie?” He smiles at you briefly to show that he’s messing with you, then nears your mound. “What did you eat?” He asks, just before replacing his thumb with the tip of his tongue, pride written all over his face as you take a deep breath.

“We got those Mediterranean bowls you like,” you say. You don’t tell him that there’s one in the fridge waiting for him.

“Without me,” Jack repeats, sounding a little more forlorn than the first time. Who knew that showering without your boyfriend would be less titillating than a Mediterranean bowl from that place down the street?

Regardless, you still don’t tell him about your little surprise in the kitchen.

“Without you,” you agree. “I can’t always be with you, you know.”

“Mhm, and it’s one of the worst things I’ve ever had to go through,” Jack says, using his thumbs to pull your lips apart so he can really dig in and lavish your cunt. Jack drinks up the gasp that leaves your mouth when his tongue twirls against your clit, then drops lower to press against your entrance. Jack presses a kiss against your entrance before his tongue really works into you, rendering him quiet.

You know he expects you to continue speaking, just as you expected him to continue. One thing you’ve always been better at than Jack is compartmentalizing– you swear it comes with the territory of being a woman compared to being a man– but you’ve missed this so much that you don’t care about his gloating that will come later. 

“Jack, come–”

You interrupt yourself with a breathy gasp, hands flying to his hair. Jack has always loved when you tug at the brown waves adorning his head, so the heady look in his eyes when he looks up at you is no surprise. It’s also no surprise that your gasp has Jack flattening his tongue and showering your cunt with attention.

You had meant to ask him to come back up onto the couch, wanting him to be comfortable, but Jack doesn’t seem to care. You still want him to fill your mouth. There’s a trace of his salty precum on your tongue and the absence of his cock on the muscle leaves you writhing. 

He eats you out messily, getting your juices all over his lips, cheeks, and chin. When he pulls away to catch a breath, you admire how his chest heaves with the effort to fill his lungs before diving back in and the way he licks his lips. You grip his hair, tugging slightly to get his attention, and then Jack’s disheveled baby blues are back on you. He smiles dopily, moving to wrap his lips around your clit, but before he can, you speak.

“Come up here,” you implore, tugging at his hair again. 

“Wanna stay here,” Jack replies, succeeding in his efforts to reconnect with your core this time. 

Despite the shockwaves flying through your body at his powerful suction, you remain steadfast. You’re even able to string a sentence together that has Jack pausing: “Please, J, wanna suck you too,” you complain.

It isn’t long until Jack thinks of a joke to refute you. “Baby, I’m 86, not 69.”

“Jack,” you complain, tugging his hair again indignantly as he laughs against your cunt, enjoying his own joke. “Not funny.”

“Very funny,” Jack mumbles, fitting a finger inside of you and thumbing over your clit in the absence of his mouth. You’re grinding down against him now, not nearly full enough or satisfied enough. Jack’s smirk tells you that there’s more coming. “You want to have my cock in your mouth so bad that you’ll do your least favorite sex position on the couch?”

You groan. Of course he remembered the conversation he walked in on when you had your girlfriends over a couple of months ago– a lengthy, very detailed, very philosophical conversation about which sex positions are practical and impractical, as well as what places are more practical than others. 

You don’t suck Jack off as he eats you out often. It’s not something you ever really feel the need to do, even though Jack has admitted to loving the way you’ll moan against his cock and rock back into his mouth like you’re unsure which is better. The reason you don’t do it often, though, is that you can rarely finish like that. And Jack, being the doting, pussy-drunk boyfriend he is, would rather have you in a position where you’ll come all over his cock or his face rather than struggle to make it to your destination.

As for the couch, you’ve always thought that it’s more fun to ride Jack and distract him from whatever he’s watching on the TV, or for him to bend you over the edges of the furniture to pound into you from behind.

But today– today, you’re confident that you can finish. It’s been over a week since Jack felt like doing anything and you’re needy. You’re not ashamed of it, either– you love your boyfriend and the passion shared between you both is enough to steam up the windows of the apartment. It’s no secret that Jack does everything he can to make you feel good.

Which is how you’re going to convince him to get back on the couch and fill you completely, please you from both ends until you’re boneless and smothering him with your cunt– “The ideal way to die,” according to Jack, and all of his friends who insisted he was right when he dared to bring up sex at one of the parties on the lake house the previous summer. 

“Jack,” you say, simple and plain. You lean forward on the couch, reaching down to cradle his face in your palms. Your hands get sticky with your own slick, but it’s no big deal. After all, you’d already touched Jack’s dick, so it’s not like your hands are clean. You press a fleeting kiss to his nose, making Jack grin widely. “Wanna sit on this pretty face,” you tell him. “While I gag on your cock.”

“Mm, yeah?” Jack asks. The way he perks up is laughable: if he was a dog, he’d be wagging his tail. “Gonna come in my mouth while I come in yours?”

You shiver at the thought of a simultaneous orgasm– your own warmth and relaxation taking over your body while Jack fills you up. You nod slightly, biting your lip to hold back a needy whine. Your eyelashes flutter as you watch Jack stand from his spot between your legs. 

He lays on the couch, his head resting on a throw pillow for some extra leverage. He makes himself comfortable, and it’s a little silly that both of you still have your shirts on, but Jack sticks out his tongue and waves you forward. The position makes you laugh, combined with his antics, so you make a silly move of your own. 

You crawl towards him, across the couch, trying to look like Sophie in Mamma Mia while she and Sky sing ‘Lay All Your Love on Me,’ but there’s no music playing. It’s just you and Jack and your soft little giggles, which are eventually quieted by a sweet kiss and a swipe of Jack’s tongue against your own. You can taste yourself on him and he can taste himself on you, which has Jack smiling into the kiss. His teeth clink against yours for a second, then he pats your hip and you pull away.

“Come have a seat, baby,” Jack invites, unable to wipe the grin off of his face. You shake your head and avert your eyes, blushing a little bit at how giddy you’ve made him with just a few kisses, some attention to his cock, and access to your pussy.

“Forgotten all about your bad day?” You tease.

“It turned out okay, I think,” Jack replies with a wink. He keeps his hands on your body as you turn, then line yourself up with his mouth. You’ve got the perfect view of his cock in this position, standing up and red for you, just waiting for you to lean forward and welcome him into the warm wetness of your mouth.

Jack hasn’t waited to admire you. He’s already sloppily mouthing at your lips, sliding his tongue against your clit. He has his arms looped around your thighs, hands planted squarely on your ass. He grips your cheeks and spreads them so that he can pull you back further and work his tongue inside of you. For your hesitation, he gives your clit a little nip to encourage you forward. It doesn’t hurt, but it does surprise you, and you let out a hushed yelp. Jack giggles before returning to your entrance, prodding at you.

You bend forward, laying across Jack’s body and holding yourself up by laying your forearms on his abdomen. Your left hand pets over the skin on his hip while your right holds his base steady. You gather some spit in your mouth before letting it drip onto his slit. The fluid drips down his cock, but you’re determined to replace your spit with ropes of his cum.

You take him in your mouth as far as you can, moaning when his tip nudges the back of your throat. He twitches in your mouth, involuntary but welcome. You love when he’s unable to control his reactions, doubling down on his enthusiasm at your core. 

You can feel yourself dripping all over Jack’s face. His hands are strong on your hips, pulling you back to grind against his mouth. Taking an arm from around your thigh, he brings his fingers back to your core, sliding two inside of you while he focuses on your clit. 

He’s so messy and he keeps making slurping sounds because he’s so into it, which is completely not sexy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You treasure the moans and hums that follow the unattractive slurping– Jack’s voice has grown high-pitched and needy, completely intoxicated by your taste.

You imagine him now, cheeks flushed just as pink as yours. Hell, his lips are probably swollen and the same shade of red as his tip. 

You bring a hand up to move your hair to one side of your head, the strands brushing Jack’s thigh and tickling him slightly. It’s necessary for you to give this blowjob your full attention, and you can’t have your hair getting in the way now, not after you’ve been missing Jack’s cock for a full week.

No, you’re just as drunk as he is, moaning and gagging and humming. You pull out all the stops– leaving his cock to kiss over his balls and suck at the skin while you pump his member. Jack’s always enjoyed that extra touch, his hips jumping uncontrollably into your space for the second time tonight.

“Wanna fuck my face?” You ask, words coming out in a rush. 

Jack keens beneath you, holding you closer. He pumps his fingers inside you quickly, working a third into your hole and curling his knuckles until he finds your sweet spot, making you moan wantonly. His hips are moving again, wiggling beneath you until you bring your lips back to his tip. You press a kiss against his slit before opening your mouth as wide as you can, hollowing your cheeks against his shaft until Jack starts to move.

He’s quick like a jack-hammer. His movements are twitchy and shallow because, as you’ve said time and time again, Jack has never been the world’s greatest multitasker. He’s able to perform well on the ice, very athletically minded and capable, but when his mind gets all foggy and sex-crazed, he’s completely helpless. 

He chases his pleasure wildly. He continues to make his sweet, pretty whimpers against your pussy. His tongue flicks over your clit as fast as he can manage while also fingering you and fucking into your mouth– he’s working overtime and his chest is heaving with harsh breaths. You take it, even rolling your hips against his fingers to try and help him out. 

You’d feel bad about making him do all the work, but you’ve known since the beginning of your relationship how Jack feels about making you come: he loves it. It’s better than his own release. He always wants you to come over his tongue or make a mess all over his cock or fingers.

“Baby, baby,” Jack whines against your clit, his lips brushing the nerves as he talks. “Fuck, gonna come, please, please–”

“Uh-huh,” you hum, the best response you can give with your mouth stuffed with his cock. The vibrations send Jack over the edge and he lurches beneath you, pulling his fingers from your hole and replacing them with his tongue. He switches, putting his thumb on your clit and rubbing furious circles until you’re writhing above him.

You’re able to swallow a mouthful of his cum before you have to squeeze your eyes shut and focus on your own orgasm, milliseconds away from breaking down the dam inside of you. You pull off of Jack’s cock and pant above him, continuing to stroke him through his climax. 

Your eyes are a little teary from the ecstasy coursing through your veins, fueled completely by Jack’s rapid movements and equally frequent muffled pleas. He can’t stop begging you to release all over his face, even with his tongue inside of you. You can’t focus on what he’s saying, but his voice is wrecked and bordering on distressed. That’s how bad he needs you to come, how badly he needs to make you come.

His jaw has got to be aching by this point, having eaten you out for so long, but you’re so close.

You sit up a bit, just enough that you can place your hands on his muscular thighs and grind back against his face. Your hips are quick, messy, and inconsistent. “Jack,” you cry out, your breath leaving you like a hard fall to the ground knocking all the air from your lungs.

“Yeah, yeah,” he encourages, his tongue flicking over your walls.

You come harder than you ever have like this– maybe harder than you ever have in general. Jack holds you against him and laps at your release, despite the pleasure causing your hips to jerk and try to escape. You lose track of yourself, feeling completely gone. There’s a chance you’ll have to wash the couch cushions later, with the way you’re spreading slick over Jack’s face. It feels endless, your orgasm, and you think Jack may have actually made up for a week of nothing in just one night. 

He licks over you until there’s nothing left for him to taste. His hair has gone wild, eyes bright but groggy and hazy at the same time. You’re sure you look the same, unwilling to find yourself in the mirror across the room when you roll off of Jack and find a shaky footing on the floor. Your shirt is damp with sweat, as is Jack’s. He lifts the neckline to wipe the lower half of his face, dazed. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, placing a hand over his heart. His eyes look up at you, a slight smile lifting the edges of his lips. “That might be the closest I’ve ever gotten to dying from your pussy, baby.”

You laugh at that, running your fingers through your hair. “I think we both need a shower,” you say with an easy smile. 

Jack yawns. “Then bed?” He asks. 

“If you don’t fall asleep on me right here,” you reply, nodding at his body as it lounges on the couch. You thought you were bad with going boneless– Jack seems to have sank into the cushions. The sight is hilarious– your boyfriend, completely love drunk and smiling up at you like you’re an angel, with his shirt still on but no pants and no underwear. His dick has softened against his hip, the cum you didn’t swallow drying against his skin. “With your dick out and all. Any burglar would run the other direction.”

“You don’t think he’d be impressed?” Jack sits up just enough to look at his length. 

“Maybe not in this state.”

“I’ll just have to explain to him that my girl fucked me so good that I couldn’t move anymore,” Jack ponders with a shrug. He laughs to himself, eyes hooded but blinking slowly at you.

“Well, you did come first,” you agree. You reach out and take his hands, dragging him up to a sitting position, then up to his feet. 

Jack stumbles into you, petting over your rat’s-nest of a head of hair and pressing a series of kisses all over your face.

“Gross, gonna have to do extra skincare tonight,” you pout, pushing him away. 

Jack continues making kissy noises as you pull him towards your shared bedroom, depositing him in front of the shower so that he can start the water while you grab new clothes for the both of you and go to the bathroom. 

He feels you up in the shower until you’re both laughing and covered in suds, unable to keep your lips from the other person’s for longer than a couple of minutes. He makes his hair into a shampooed mohawk just to make you giggle again. His displeasure from earlier in the night is completely gone, and you couldn’t be more glad. 

notes: this is one of my favorite fics i've ever written, so i hope y'all enjoyed!!

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

shout out to scrubs for making me look professional instead of like i spend my time getting pooped on and trying not to get bitten

[foottoe101001]

Guys umm what I reramp my post book fic about pony struggling and Darry has to work overtime bc Pony had to go the hospital a bunch for smoke inhalation and it cost a shit Tom if money bc he kept passing it/ weezing until he collapsed (Pony never wanted to go Darry was concerned af and always told him it was ok, and the honest truth is that he would rather be working overtime then having Pont dead on him.) and pony feels really bad but curly exists and is like yoo you wanna do drugs si they do and pony gets hooked and dependent and it goes on for a while and then curly gets sent to the reformatory and pony had rlly bad withdrawal to a point he would throw up his guts at even the smell of food and Darry found out and was mad and then sent him to rehab but he didn’t rlly end up getting better and he accidentally ODS on the phone with Darry and it ends Darry pov at his funeral…

I need longs thiughts about this and suggestions pls

OOO I REALLLYYY LIKE THIS SODA PROBABLY NOTICED FIRST AND WAS LIKE “Ho why u skinny and pale also smell like pot🤨”

(Ponyboys coughs sound like a dying hamburger that’s over cooked but probably still moos)

[guiltymepleasures]

It's sweet and all but that necklace is ugly af 😨

But ok this is college Sun Jae who probably has no money and maybe less allowance since dad used up his savings to buy the plane tickets and rehab. And he also bought a cute cake so ok ok

[afrehab]

Funkčná medicína

Trpíte bolesťami a lekári vám nedokážu pomôcť? Nebol vám nájdený bežne dostupnými vyšetrovacími metódami žiadny problém a vaša bolesť pretrváva? Bolí vás koleno? Vedeli ste, že to môže byť zapríčinené virozou žalúdka? Máte problém s inými kĺbmi? Vedeli ste, že možno máte skrytý zápal? Vyskúšajte u nás Funkčnú manuálnu medicínu!

[spirit-of-beetlejuiceblues12]

My thoughts on John Mulaney & the Baby J special

There’s so many places I could start but it doesn’t matter because this is definitely gonna be long af.

So. I’m not exactly clear on what exactly the beef with Mulaney is. Here’s what I have heard:

People are upset about his addiction and stay in rehab. Honestly, I don’t understand why this is even a reason to be angry at someone. Parasocial relationships really have y’all pissed at this one man for something a lot of celebrities have done, are doing, and will continue to do. Dumb reason to vilify him.

Divorcing his wife and having a baby with another woman even after saying he didn’t want children. Okay, if he did cheat on his wife, that’s fucked up and he sucks for that. Another ‘my wife’ guy down the drain. But whether he cheated or not, the reason his marriage fell apart is not our business. Stop taking it personally.

Dave Chapelle transphobia when he opened for JM. Alright, I’ll give you this one. I don’t know the details (honestly I don’t really want to go looking for them), so I’m not going to say whether it did or didn’t happen and how bad it was. I’m a genderqueer person and it makes me sad that Mulaney may have knowingly let that joke happen. I wish he would say something.

I found Baby J comforting in a weird way. I went into it wondering if he was going to address any of the shit that happened in the past few years; I was thrilled to see that that is literally all the special was about.

Someone on tumblr said “John Mulaney is a piece of shit, but he’s still the funniest motherfucker out there” and dude. Yes. As always, his comedic timing was incredible.

Baby J made me laugh so hard. There was some killer lines in there that nearly knocked me out; his vibe is truly different, but there’s also still that token Mulaney dry humor. It reminded me why I took so much comfort in his past specials as a teenager, because his sarcasm and wit have never failed to make me smile. As I watched the special, I found myself relieved that he was back, happy that I have new John Mulaney content to meme about.

Don’t get me wrong, Baby J was not as raw and brutal as Bo Burnham’s Inside. If Mulaney had tried to make it like that, it would’ve been disingenuous and boring. He was true to his own humor and I things that’s really important.

Everything he said was blunt and honest. I noticed that he was genuinely laughing at his own jokes and the memories he was recounting. I don’t think anyone ever realized how truly buttoned up and rigid he was onstage in the last specials because we were all “hehe funny man runnin around”. Isn’t that wild? Suddenly he’s showing his real self, and I think that’s incredible. He’s imperfect and uncomfortable and that’s not something we haven’t gotten to see in celebrities very often.

I can’t speak from experience with addiction because I’ve never had an addiction. But I do understand that it’s a remarkable thing to overcome. I’m really happy for John Mulaney, and I’m very glad he’s doing better. Hopefully we’ll see some more improvement in him from here. I wish we could’ve gotten to hear more about what happened with his wife and the baby, but like I said that’s not really our business.

“When I’m alone, I realize I’m with the person who tried to kill me.” Okay but that one felt very personal, I won’t be taking questions.

TLDR; I think parasocial relationships are a big part of why people are pissed at John Mulaney, and we all need to recognize that. He’s a human being and he’s allowed to fuck up. Baby J was an incredible show from start to finish and I will be watching it a million more times.

[thegnomelord]

I think Hound would grow his hair out when he retires..

Tbh Hound never ever thought he could retire, he figured he would always die either on the battlefield or when he grew out his usefulness to Makarov so he doesn't really know what to do with all the free time. But growing his hair out would help with getting some of his individuality back so Hound could probably grow his hair out during rehab too lol

Also that little thing above him of Hound smiling is cute af dude <3

[legitalicat]

Get to Know...Aegon Targaryen ii

Cover done by @foxyanon ! This is a companion piece to The Lives of Friends, a collaboration between Foxy, myself, @zaldritzosrose, and @thenameswinter99 (writing blog @thenameswinterfics)

Interviewer: This is Gilbar Cheswright with TIME Magazine. Today I have been granted an exclusive with the once famed party boy turned CEO of Valyrian Holdings, one of the most successful businesses in Westeros, Aegon Targaryen ii. Aegon, thank you for joining me.

Aegon: Thank you for having me, Gilbar. It's such a an honor to be chosen for this piece.

GC: I am just glad we could make it work. Now, I want to get straight into it. You credit your uncle and former CEO of Valyrian Holdings, Maegor Targaryen, for your success today. How exactly did he come into play in your life?

AT: Well, my history with partying is no secret. You know, I didn't really have a strong support system in my parents. My dad was…well Viserys Targaryen has five children and none of us speak to him at this point, let's put it that way. And my mom, she didn't really have a leg to stand in to intervene and stuff. So, I found myself partying and drinking at too young of an age, and I even got into some heavy drugs. It was after my probably fourth or fifth stint in the hospital from an overdose that Uncle Maegor finally came and talked to me. He told me I was worth more than being a party boy and offered to send me to rehab. Up until that point, I can’t remember an adult in my life saying that to me. My siblings did, and of course my cousin Rhaenerys, but something about Uncle Maegor, in his proper business attire and his very professional demeanor, saying it to me really got to me.

GC: That's some heavy stuff. So, do you feel like you owe your Uncle in some way?

AT: I owe him everything. He paid for my hospital bills, my rehab stint. He paid for me to move into a better neighborhood and also paid for me to go to school so I could learn what I need for my job. He even got me a dog, Sunfyre, when I got out of rehab on the approval of my therapist so that I could have that companion and see the benefit of my life and sobriety is to others.

GC: Did you find it hard to transition into the business, given your history and considering you never had plans on touching it?

AT: I would be a liar if I said it was easy. I still find myself calling Uncle Maegor asking him questions. But like I said, he sent me to school before I took up the CEO position and he made sure I have an amazing support. He and Aunt Elvira are always in my corner, so is his mother my Great Aunt Visenya, my brother Aemond is our CFO, and I am beyond grateful to know my cousin Rhaenerys will always help if her duties at the museum allow it.

GC: You've mentioned your cousin, Rhaenerys, a couple of times. Can you tell me a bit more about her and your relationship? Was she always supportive of you taking over Valyrian Holdings?

AT: Oh, there's so much I can say about her. I would like to remind everyone reading she is Dr. Rhaenerys Targaryen, having earned her PhD in anthropology with a specialization in linguistics just a couple of years ago. I'm very proud of her, even though at first I didn't get why she wouldn't want to just have the company. I think she's always been one of my biggest supporters, and I will remain one of hers for the rest of my life. If she had wanted Valyrian Holdings, it would've been hers, but she wanted to forge her own path and has lifted up everyone around her while doing so. Even if I'm not the best at showing her all the time how much I appreciate her.

GC: It is so amazing that you have such a great support system. I'm sure they will be beaming with pride when they hear how you speak about them.

AT: I just hope they know it's the truth.

GC: So we’ve talked a bit about your past, your family, the business. I want to know, what are your plans for the future.

AT: Well a few months ago I bought myself a farm. It's really the perfect way to unwind after being in the city, but close enough that I don't have to worry about not being able to get somewhere if someone needs me. Ideally, I'll kind of get to grow that a bit more. I've got a horse and my dog currently, a field of crops going to kind of test the waters. And then, if I'm lucky, in a few years I'll be able to bring home my wife and then maybe start a family there, too.

GC: Is there any woman in particular? You haven't been publicly connected to anyone since you would party.

AT: I hope so. It's still pretty new, just about a month or two. If it were up to me, I'd have screamed her name from the rooftops after our first date. But she needs a bit more time, and I can respect that, cause my family is brought into the spotlight a lot more than I think she's ever been used to. So, all I can say is I'm really happy with her and I really can't wait to continue exploring our relationship.

GC: You sound like a man in love.

AT: Hahaha, I am definitely not saying that before I say it to her. But she is definitely very special and important to me.

GC: Haha, can't blame me for trying. Well, Aegon, thank you again for coming in and sitting down with me. Congratulations on being TIME’s Man of the Year, and I for one will be awaiting your future endeavors.

AT: Thank you, it's been a pleasure.

[girlwhodoeskratom]

btw the rehab green tea monster is nasty af the house down boots. tastes like expired green tea

[helluva-world-innit]

So...they are finally here...the height charts! At least of the main Hazbin Crew (bonus Mimzy; idk about Baxter yet). These are the final designs for me but, as I improve my art skills, I may change some things around I couldn't accomplish when I first started drawing them.

I will do actual character ref pages at some point now that I have their designs (mostly) finalized. I still wanna tweak them a little, ngl, but that will have to wait until I draw them a few more times (and probs after I do the height charts for the Helluva Crew too; everyone else will be sporadic af).

Anyway, since I got a flight soon and can't sleep, let's talk about some of the changes I made for everyone as well as how they got to be where they are now, hm? Sidenote: I have decided the events of this story will take place in 2052 for...reasons. Sidenote sidenote: I went with the original Sin colors for the Rings so Wrath is red, not Pride. Greed is gold, etc., etc.

So, Charlie (Charlotte Lucinda Isadoros) Morningstar has more texture in her hair this time around and I made the stitches on her coat obvious just because I thought it looked more slapdash that way. She's slim to the point of not really having much of a figure (much like her father; they are almost copies of each other but it's because he really didn't use anyone else's "genes" for her) so she gave her coat a little bit of shape to the hips but she still largely wears more masculine clothing. Like most of her extended family, Charlie isn't too hung up on being perceived as strictly male or strictly female, though her title is Crown Princess of Hell (Luci just thinks it sounds cuter, but Charlie doesn't object to people naming her as Crown Prince of Hell either). Age: 222

I already kind of did a rundown for her deal earlier on this blog so lets move on to...

Vanessa Chavez Hernandez Fell into the vicious Ring of Wrath upon her death during the Salvadoran Civil War in 1986. Fun fact: She and Alastor are some of the only Sinners that go by their given names. Everyone else's name tends to be a chosen one. Vannie died fighting on the side of the Farbundo Martí National Liberation Front (FMLN). She was caught and killed with so much (understandable) rage inside that it led to her dropping into Wrath Ring. US soldiers killed her peasant farmer parents in cold blood in front of her when she was 14 for the belief they were aiding the Front with weapons. Her father actually was, but her mother was not aware of any of it. As a result, Vannie dedicated her life to killing as many soldiers and government officials as possible instead of leaving for the States with her older sister. She was killed by beheading at the tender age of 20.

Vannie has been devastating her fellow Sinners in combat ever since. All to avoid being taken for torture practice by the bloodthirsty Ringmaster, Satan, should she lose a fight. Most of the armor pieces she wears are handed down from other fallen warriors, bequeathed to her or surrendered upon her victory. I originally wanted to base her on a Death's-Head Hawkmoth but decided to go with a Banded Skipper moth instead (we don't gotta be that edgy here now). They tend to have quick, skip-like movements and Vannie is very agile to make up for her small stature.

Vannie is very level-headed usually, but when her eyepatch comes off, Blind Rage takes hold and she will not lose focus on a target until they stop moving or perish. She was captured and sold as fodder for the arena, à la Thor in Thor: Ragnarok, and, she quickly grew into a crowd (and Satan) favorite. Joins up with Charlie after being liberated for the rehab project. The fact that Charlie's really cute and has a pout that can put puppies to shame probs had a hand in that decision.

Cherry Bomb! The gal, the legend, the agent of unrestrained chaos. A Brisbane native, Cherry fell to Gluttony in 1987 when punk was dying down, but "be gay, do crimes" was still more than an empty slogan. She got blown up while attempting to steal some food from a grocery store, and, like the cockroach she is, she got back on her two four feet in Hell and stole directly from Beezlebub's gardens instead.

I decided to make her look more diy punk and gave her a mullet. Why? Bitches love mullets is why. And Cherry is very much a lover of the bitches. Based her on a Giant Burrowing Cockroach too, which burrows, as its name suggests. This makes Cherry hella good at tunnels and underground infiltration but she also has a knowledge of how to build explosives as well from her time hanging with her more reckless, anarchist buds back on Earth. Her father (he's become an informant and dealer in Hell), regularly threatens her and Angel to get her to build and develop new ways to take out his competition in Greed (including even Moxxie's father). She was just about 28 when she died.

Since we're going in Ring order here, Sir Pentious is next. This cordial king cobra slithered down to Greed Ring in 1888 (aged 30) after his ambition cost him everything: his inheritance, his family, and ultimately, his life. At age 15, Sir Pen had had enough of just reading about machinery and decided to begin building some of his own. Upon entering a late puberty, this became harder for him to pursue with the pressures of high society barreling at him at full speed (he's trans). Sir Pen often disguised himself with the help of his younger sister and brother and attended engineering presentations and operation theaters despite his gender assignment at birth keeping him from formal training in engineering. The open disdain his parents showed for his inventive spirit and lack of feminine graces led to him becoming more withdrawn and abrasive to would be suitors. By age 22, no man in the county wanted anything to do with the seventh-born, obsessive, outwardly sexless child of the Lord and Lady Edwards of Dacorum, England.

Dejected by the steadily increasing hostility towards him from his family and fellow aristocrats, Sir Pen's own resentment grew and he retreated to the family summer home to begin developing an easier and painless method for removing "damaged" body parts (because of his own untreated body dysphoria) on the battlefield. Unfortunately, he used members of his own household staff to test it on. He was labelled as insane and was due to be moved to a private asylum owned by a distant cousin, but opted to take his own life instead of staying trapped in a cage of society's making anymore. Sir Pen now spends his days in Hell building various contraptions to help him one day compete in the Circus Games. He aims to win the title and position of Overseer to reclaim some of his old glory. Left him a snake because honestly, lookit him. Baby noodle. Also snakes tend to symbolize betrayal and untrustworthiness in Christian folklore so it fits him well enough.

Nifty is based on a skunk cleaner shrimp (look them up, they're super cute and also known as 'Doctor shrimps' >///<) and fell into Envy for similar reasons to SP. Three shitty husbands led Nifty to have a psychological break. She ended up killing them then turning the gun on herself in her grief after witnessing her final husband's infidelity in 1954 at age 33. I made her a cleaner shrimp since she is the maid/cook of the hotel, more or less, but also tends to clean up any of the messes she, Alastor, and Husk make (they eat people together! Isn't that...sweet?) Gave a bigger version of her to see since I made her so leetle.

Growing up poor in 1920's-30's Korea as the daughter of a Japanese soldier and a Korean sex worker with three younger siblings and lots of local children to look after, Nifty developed an early sense of caretaking and the desire for comfort in the ways of a well-kept home and delicious food (when it could be afforded). She married relatively young (17) to better care for her mother as her health declined until her death in 1946.

With trauma from a lifetime of war, poverty, and spousal abuse/neglect, it really is a surprise that she's remained as sweet as she has. At least on the surface. She worked in several restaurants and estates in the Envy's Ring of Influence upon Falling, but never managed to be appreciated no matter how efficient or hospitable she was. In the end, Nifty was approached by and made a deal with Alastor and has happily served him since.

Husk(er), in comparison to his contracted colleague, Nifty, is big, gruff, and a total softie inside despite looking like something out of a Bram Stoker novel. Husk died at the ripe age of 72 (1979) which is no small feat considering the amount of wars and bloody revolutions his home country (Russia) dealt with during his lifetime. A second born son of a Petrograd (St. Petersburg today) baker, Husk lost his older brother in the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917 (Husk was 10 years old) and has had a difficult relationship with conflict and faith ever since. Between marrying a woman he didn't love, being an awkward and distant father to their only daughter, and deserting during WWII, Husk has more passive demons than most.

After returning home in 1958 from hiding out in South Korea, he spends the remainder of his life gambling and drinking to forget all he's lost and given up. He died after passing out in the snow and Fell to Sloth Ring where he quickly amassed enough power from siphoning the soul energy of others (through their blood) to compete in the Circus Games. He even won it, but immediately regretted this as Belphagor proved to be too demanding of a Ringmaster for the bat to submit to. Scared, full of remorse, and aching for some comfort in the coldest Ring in Hell (he ran to Pride to escape Bel), he was approached by and made a deal with Alastor and has faithfully served him ever since. I made him a vampire bat because it just seems to fit a lot better than a cat with wings (OG Husk's ears always made me think of a bat anyhoo) and it's a sort of nod to his feeling like a drain on others. He's wearing a security hat because he is the security bat. More on that when we get to it.

Angel Dust is Hell's highest grossing pornstar. Such fame comes at a terrible price, however. Angel died at the age of 32 in 1947 (yes, i aged him down a little) after a jealous lover from a rival mob family gunned him down. Before that, Angel used his body to get information and fuel his drug habits, routinely practicing drag and giving the anti-sodomy laws a workout during his life, much to his family's embarrassment. He really wasn't too upset or surprised upon finding himself in the Lust Ring of Hell even if he wasn't too happy about the form he took (Angel is terrified of spiders). After a couple decades of banging and binging, Angel's family slowly began making their way to Hell as well and reunited to form one of the most powerful Sinner gangs around. He tried rejoining them too, only to be brutally beaten and ejected by his father. Back out on the streets, but no longer interested in just getting by anymore, Angel became the perfect target for a predatory Overseer of Lust: Valentino.

For the last 75 years, Angel has been featured in countless porn media (even audiobooks!) and loaned out to every demon Valentino aims to have connections with. If he hadn't met Cherry and formed a strong friendship with her shortly after her Fall, the spider's soul most likely would have Broken long before Charlie got a hold of him. While Angel actually likes his job and enjoys having something he excels at, being bound to an Overseer is a one-way ticket to being ground down into pure soul energy for Hell's use. I kept him a spider because I genuinely have no issues with him being a spider, but the fact that his original design doesn't look like one gives me the fucking pip. Also, he gets even more spidery later. Also, also, I gave him two gold fangs because they're actually just his fangs coated in gold under Valentino's orders. Anything to make him less dangerous since Angel does have venom sacs. the poison can't kill anyone already dead, obviously, but it is extremely painful and lasts for hours. He can also inject a solution that temporarily paralyzes others instead of causing them agony.

Finally, there's Alastor, the only Overseer of Pride Ring. Bound to the King of Hell, Lucifer himself, Al enjoys the kind of power most Overseers can only dream of. I made him a rabbit (actually a Snowshoe Hare) mostly to get away from a culturally appropriated beast (you know what one, I ain't finna name it) and to actually make him even more aggressively cuddleable. I like characters that defy expectations. Also, I grew up with Bugs Bunny like many of you and I love the idea of Al having Looney Toons-ass ways to deal with problems. Like hole magic. Go ahead and laugh, it's funny.

Al died in 1938 after being sentenced to the death penalty (electric chair). He was caught in one of his many, many murders after one sloppy mistake at 39 years old. He was a modestly famous radio host in his hometown of New Orleans, but only after moving away from the city with his mother and stepfather to Chicago from ages 6 to 17. His mother died when Al was 8 and his stepfather's abuse led to him becoming a skilled and emancipated serial killer by 16 years old. He saved whatever he could from victims to feed himself and put himself through speech classes when he learned that a decent living could be made on the radio for someone so obviously of mixed blood. Alastor moved back to New Orleans to start over and took advantage of the more seedy sides of the city to cover up his hunts until his discovery and capture.

Al Fell to Pride and began exploring and hunting in the other Rings, meeting a fellow entertainer in Gluttony (Vox; died 1955). The pair of them hunted together for close to 25 years when an unknown rift formed between them and both competed to win the title of Overseer in the same year. There can only ever be one Overseer per Circus (Lucifer burns the losers to ash with holy fire to keep them from returning), but Alastor and Vox are the first and last dual winners in the 200+ history of the competition. Vox pledged himself to Beezlebub while Alastor pledged himself to Lucifer and the pair have been bitter rivals ever since.

Bonus: Mimzy is an Overseer of Lust Ring that knows all the hot goss and isn't afraid to share it. She died in the 1920s after being thrown from her then-boyfriend's car in the Bronx and getting run over by a trolley. Your girl has seen it all and then some. Now, she runs one of the slickest clubs and makes her soul quota for Asmodeus with young performers of all kinds. She and Alastor became fast friends upon meeting and she's one of the only people aside from Valentino and Velvette to know what his history with Vox is. She's got a giggle in her talk and a wiggle in her walk and I so based her on that mink girl from Animaniacs as well as a little bit of Toot from Drawn Together (who was loosely based on Betty Boop). I just want her to be soft and sultry. *Jon Lovitz voice* Is that so wrong?

Woo, this got fucking loooooooong. Hopefully, I covered just enough to get y'all interested in what else I have planned for these knuckleheads and I'll be back with the Helluva Main Cast for you next time. Bye!

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Track Marks And Dial Tones IV

Summary: A cigarette smoked in the dead of night comes back to bite you…

Pairing: Clay Roach x fem!cop!Reader

Word Count: - 2.1k

Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat 18+!, We're Back On The Angst Train, Mentions Of (Past) Self-Harm, Crying, Clay's Dirty AF Flat, Mentions Of Used Needles And Drug Paraphernalia, Mentions Of Withdrawal, Agent Rohr Being Agent Asshole

A/N: *sits down with a grilled cheese sandwich and strawberry milk*

Find The Other Parts Here!

Tagging the horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @r0ttenmess @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess

Love like a needle full of methadone

Potent but not real, left you wanting more

Lipstick track-marks bleeding wet

Like Montagues and Capulets

For us child, the stars refuse to shine

Why for us child, do the stars refuse to shine?

- Methadone By Rise Against

"Time to unfuck this hellhole…" You sighted to yourself, the seams of a pair of thick nitrile gloves tight around your wrists, as you crouched down to shove piles of rubbish into a blackened trash bag.

Involuntarily, memories of this morning, from mere hours ago, flooded your mind because you had knelt down just the same in front of your wardrobe, shoving t-shirts and left-behind shorts from your ex into a gray duffle bag. The bare necessities to drop Clay off at rehab with, before you could pick up some preferably more personal things for him later in the afternoon. Cleaning out his flat alone would pose as a multiple-day-endeavor for which you had called in sick. It hadn't exactly felt like lying to you because you indeed felt sick to some degree. Sick with worry, sick with anxiety and sick with sheer uncertainty about what kind of situation you had conjured for Clay and yourself.

You felt the fuse short-circuiting inside of your brain way before you could do anything against it and with it, a violent rush of hot tears spilled from your tear ducts, soaking your cheeks in no time.

"God, you're so stupid, girl.", You taunted yourself, your torso involuntarily leaning in further forward until your forehead touched down on the dusty, wooden panels, "All you had to do was drive him to fucking rehab, but no, you just had to mess it up."

Your own sore voice echoed back, cutting through you over and over again as heavy droplets pooled down from the tip of your nose. Breathless cries and poorly choked-back sobs rattled through your ribcage and your entire body gradually felt like falling apart in this self-made misery.

"Pathetic…", You sniffled, clawing your shaking hands around your chest, a desperate attempt to physically keep yourself together, "Pathetic! Pathetic! Pathetic!"

For a moment, you sensed the pressing urge to just hammer your head against the floor until the bodily pain would wash over the emotional one. For a split second, you considered it, raising your forehead from the wooden panels whilst closing your burning eyes but instead of thudding it down the way your senses told you to, you halted, stifled even your shallow breaths for a moment.

No, that wouldn't be what Clay wanted you to do right now. He wouldn't want you breaking down over the ridiculous, anxiety-driven nightmares your brain was spewing out like venom for they were nothing but a panicked, blown out of proportion fever dream.

"It'll be okay, it'll be fine…" Trying to bounce right back from the pit of darkness that threatened to swallow you whole, you took a deep breath and sat back up against your heels, arms still tightly wrapped around your torso.

Reluctantly, you raised one palm to your face, wiping it clean from the spill of tears and snot before you inhaled again, reaching for the trash bag and continued on your tedious journey through seemingly endless amounts of clutter and debris.

The hallway for sure wasn't even the worst part. That spot of dubious fame was reserved for Clay's "living room". Careful, avid to not just clutch down right into a hidden away needle, you skimmed through every accumulation of litter with utmost attention to everything, discarding orange plastic caps and syringes alike into a hard plastic container while sorting the plenty of used-up test strips into the general waste.

"Good lord…" You commented on your findings with a murmur, your mind trying to piece together just how many test kits and clean rigs you'd brought him over the past months.

It really must've been quite the amount. All that shit better be gone after detox was over. Just to make sure that this wouldn't just pose as a massive violation of Clay's private space, you had asked him about it on the way to rehab, as he stared out of the window of your car with watery eyes, while the first treacherous, tell-tale droplets of sweat had started to soak through the collar of his shirt.

"You don't have to do that, you know that." Clay had answered to you, his leg nervously bouncing up and down at an erratic pace.

"Yeah, but I want to help you, you know that, too." You had tried to work up a faint smile but it was more of a weirdly lopsided contraction of your lips.

"Don't you think that you've already done more than enough of that? That's more than I'd ever ask for…" Clay had cleared his throat while he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Well, then, good that you aren't asking for it, huh? I'm offering it and all I need to know is that it's okay with you." You led your car to turn right after a crossing, eventually turning into a long avenue leading uphill toward the facility.

"I don't think you'd find anything you haven't seen already. So yeah, thank you." He had agreed with a short nod of his head, his eyes flickering right back to the building that slowly came into view.

With that, he had sealed himself the deal of a clean place to start anew after making it through detox, which would be a journey he’d have to take on his own.

Taking a deep breath whilst sitting back on your heels, your eyes wandered towards the pile of empty strawberry milk cartons in the corner. You pondered over tackling them today, but just the thought of dealing with that desolate kitchen situation led your stomach to twist and turn in disgust. Yeah, no, decluttering the hallway plus the most part of the living room had to be enough for a start.

The late autumn sun hung low as you drove back home, stopping by a pharmacy to get yourself something to deal with the anxiety-fueled nausea. You also bought a few sets of sweatpants and matching hoodies to drop them off at the rehab center tomorrow. Both of your hands filled with your car keys and shopping bags, you let the door to the driver seat fall shut behind you after parking.

"Good afternoon!" You whirled your head towards your doorsteps so hard that you heard your neck cracking.

"Agent Rohr?" Your brows arched in confusion and an unwell feeling started to settle in your stomach.

This man meant nothing but bad news and you avoided him as far as possible. Agent Rohr was an animal, a raging, self-righteous bear that not only roared but simply destroyed what wasn't to his liking.

"Little trip to the pharmacy, I see?" The gray-haired man in his 50s nodded towards the crinkled, brown paper bag in your grasp.

"I'm a bit nauseous, yes.", You strode past him, fumbling with your keys to unlock the door, "What do you want, Agent?"

"Oh, I heard you called in sick today and I just wanted to make sure it's nothing too bad. Heavy case of the flu going 'round the PD lately." The sarcasm practically dripped out of every word that left his slightly curled up lips.

"I should be back to normal in just a few days, thank you." You sneered back, wanting nothing more but to get him out of your sight.

"Does the name Clay Roach ring any bell with you, detective? The dirty junkie from the corner with the cheap diner downtown?" He eventually started shooting his verbal ammunition, causing the hairs at the nape of your neck to perk up.

"He works as my informant, why?" Your fingers clasped themselves around the key in your hand, the scratched metal of Clay's apartment key dangling right next to yours started to burn against your skin.

"We might want to have a little talk about him, if you'd be so kind as to let me in." Agent Rohr pushed against the door with the tip of his boot, forcing it to swing open with you waddling right behind it, not letting go of the key chain.

"Thank you!" He mocked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trench coat as he waltzed right into your kitchen to sit down at the table.

"Fucking bastard…" You groaned to yourself under your breath, trying to soothe your racing thoughts from spiraling out of control again.

Caly…what was going on? Did he break out of rehab or something and why would Agent Rohr even so much as move a finger about that?

"Suit yourself." You huffed at the man, sitting down across from him after closing the door back shut behind you.

"So!", He let one flattened palm hit onto the table, making you flinch involuntarily, "Clay, huh?"

"Pardon?" In a weak attempt to shield yourself from his greasy demeanor, you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Did the heroin dick get you off good?" Rohr nearly spat every word with nothing but I'll intention towards you, his other hand excitedly roaming through an inside pocket of his coat.

"Excuse me?!" You shot back at him, your stomach dropping in panic.

"I'm wondering if he could even get one up, did he?", Grinning widely to himself, he pulled a stack of pictures from the pocket, placing one after the other right in front of you, "Little fucked out lovebirds."

You recognized how your eyes wandered over a well-familiar setting captured out of a different perspective whilst everything in you grew cold as the bomb of fear detonated in your system.

"You know, a while ago I looked at the inventory lists, annoying paperwork but every once in a while I gotta check 'em, and I realized that a truly wild amount of test kits and sterile needles weren't there anymore. Plus, someone from the street worker personnel asked me if I possibly knew where all this was going? So, I started looking around a little bit and what did my eyes have to see?" He tapped the picture that was taken right in the moment you had leaned in to press a kiss to Clay's lips the night before.

"What's even up with all those scars, ew." In a mockingly disgusted grimace, Rohr taunted you.

"None of this is any of your goddamn business. If you want me to pay the department for all the supplies, fine. Done deal." You eventually answered to him.

"I don't think you're getting away with just that, missy.", He chuckled, making himself comfortable on his chair, "Petty theft and a juicy violation of your code of conduct? Hm, the HR commission won't be a fan of that, I'm sure."

"Are you blackmailing me, Rohr?" You clenched your jaws, teeth grinding against each other.

"Looks like it, no? You really kinda got yourself in a situation here now." You stared at each other for a moment, your heart raging in your chest.

“You are really blackmailing me over applying harm reduction to my informant?” Rohr nodded while he let out a biting laugh.

“You call it harm reduction and I see petty theft and fucking a junkie. Tough luck.” The Agent shrugged his shoulders in amusement.

“What do you want from me then, huh? What’s in it for you?” You felt like pouncing him to gauge his eyes out or to strangle him for that stupid grin on his face to disappear.

“Ooooh, I thought about that!”, His eyes bore into yours, a glint of malevolence flickering through them, “I think, I just wanna fuck around a little, get that heroin dick outta you. You’re a fine woman and your file is squeaky clean. Would be a shame for somebody to ruin that, no?”

“Get out of my house.” Your voice turned aggressive and loud.

“Think about it.”

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE NOW!”

[maelathemenace-old]

So. Anyone wanna see the au details me and @iys-cloud made?

No?

TOO BAD!

Au info and headcanons:

Danno: serial killer. The only link between his kills are that everyone killed has wronged Riggy(or his friends) in some way, like by threatening them or smth, on most of his kills he leaves a note or a blue object for the police to find; his first kill was the boss and his cool down period is usually long(except when someone threatens his friends). He sends bloodied gifts to cdot all the time and owes mogswamp a favor. Pear is his weapons dealer and he has a good enough relationship with Melon and Jonny

Some hc about him:

He carves little statues for his close friends made out of human bone

He's favorite knife is a blue dented one that riggy gave to him. He keeps it under his bed in a shoe box along with the rest of his favorite weapons

Once disappeared an entire division of cops

Created a ‘magical’ soap that washes blood really well

He's ominous and creepy with his friends

If he gifts you something it WILL HAVE blood on it

Riggy: you already know Riggy. Riggy has done an unreasonable amount of crime. Nothing has changed with Riggy. Knows about Datchia but so far has said nothing. Owes mogswamp a favor

Some hc about him:

Danno gifted him a bunny statue that he values more than he cares to admit

Gave danno his knife and a machete

Cdotkom: he's the one guy that knows someone, has connections everywhere and in general is the guy you don't want to mess with bc as said, he knows everyone, friends with Danno, Riggy, Melon and Pear. Owes mogswamp a favor

Some hc about him:

Dannos first gift was a bloodied console(with pikmin in it), a finger and a note

Somehow his house is still blood stain free

He's pals with Melon

Danno gave him a bit of his blood soap

Don't be mistaken, he has a knife(that Danno gave him) and will use it if necessary

Pear: head of the Royal Mafia and Danno and Riggy’s weapons dealer. Is roommates with and works with Melon. He may or may not have given someone a concussion by complete accident a few times, ‘rivials’ with bundun. Knows about Datchia. Owes mogswamp a favor or two.

Some hc about him:

He gifts Danno and riggy limited edition pokemon cards with every weapon they buy, bc of this they have almost every single one

Has a little pokemon statue made of human bone in his bedroom, Danno gabe it to him one day as a ‘thank you’ gift

Melon: renown hacker, works with pear and sometimes Danno, Cdot or mogswamp, He's Jonnys mentor and Dans role model; owns a clone rehabilitation center that unindoctrinates them. Knows about Datchia. Owes mogswamp a favor.

Some hc about him:

He can find your address with a single photo

WILL find anything if you give him a day or two

Mogswamp: He knows almost every mafia boss on the planet, everyone owes this guy a favor. EVERYONE.(except Dan)

Dan/Clone Danno: He's 12 year old, and an innocent little guy who is like the iPad kid son to CR and looks up to Melon, he's staying in the clone rehab center while CR finds a home for them.

Some hc about him:

He dyed part of his hair green bc of Melon(even if he doesn't admit it)

Has a bunch of toys

He's still alive solely bc Danno forgives him for following the bosses order

He's scared shitless of Danno

Has a little scar in his neck from the time Danno almost killed him

Clone Riggy/Pasta man/CR/ Preston: wanted thief, rich af but still somehow doesn't have a house, he's Dans parental figure and steals a bunch of toys for him. Currently living in Melons rehab center. Owes mogswamp a favor.

Some hc about him:

The only reason he's alive is because Dannos forgiven him for following the boss

Danno almost killed him, multiple times

Bundun: He tries to start a mafia to rival Pear but it never works bc Pear works with Melon, has tried to convince Jonny to work with him but it never worked, knows better than to owe mogswamp a favor(still owes him one though). He just feels left out from the crime and is jealous of Pear.

Jonny: Melons student, just wanted to learn to code not hack, got wrapped into this mess without wanting, he's low-key just there.

Phaleur: He knows what everyone is doing but won't tell bc he values his life and want to live. He's like the secret keeper, he doesn't participate but he knows. He knows your secrets.

Police tried to interrogate him, all he said was basically ‘I would tell but i want to live and my friends would kill both me and you if I told’.

Joe Caine: literally no clue what’s going on. (Eventually he’s gonna stumble upon Datchia on tumblr, confront Pear about it, and have it be a whole situation)

Datchia: Yknow those corkboards with the red string? Make that a person. The conspiracy theorist that’s actually onto something but they’re on tumblr so nobody notices. Her investigation started when she noticed that most of the murder notes mentioned a “sewer rat” and that was Riggy’s contact name in Danno’s phone

Some hc about her:

‘Y’ALL THE SHORTS YOUTUBERS ALL COMMIT CRIME YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME’

Scared out of her mind constantly because she knows Pear and Melon know what she’s doing

Bambeyo(or whatever): Dead. Danno and Riggy exploded him with what was left of the vpn facility.