#ah fuck what was my writing tag

[grif-hawaiian-rolls]

The Reds and the Feds: Little Trusts

The short version: i got carried away thinking about helmet hair and wanted to doodle something w Neko and Donut

The long version: under the cut

“Oh!” Donut gasped. He was standing in the locker room just outside the showers at the latest base on their ‘tour’ of the Federal Army of Chorus. Outpost eleven….something?? Donut didn’t know the specifics. What he did know was Private Micce was standing across the locker room from him right now and had the prettiest hair Donut had ever seen, himself included. Thick black curls, unleashed from the winding braid Micce usually wore his hair in under his helmet, fell in loose waves down to his hips. His hips! Sarge called Micce’s usual style ‘princess hair’, and frankly (hah) Donut couldn’t help but agree. A tiara would look so good among the curve of the braid. But this? This was some elegant, mermaid, front cover of a novel kind of hair.

“Your hair!” Donut flapped his hand, finally catching Micce’s attention. The federal soldier turned, half towards Donut, and reached an ungloved hand up to his hair.

“What? Is something caught in it?” Micce’s brow furrowed and Donut shook his head.

“No, no, sorry! It’s just- it’s so pretty!” He laughed. Now, normally Franklin Delano Donut was much better at picking his words and saying the right things. But his lack of decent vocabulary could be blamed on spending the majority of the last 12 or so hours in a warthog with Wash— even for the Red team with their undeniable skill with the big guns and engines, twelve hours was a long drive. And Wash had insisted they spend as much of it as possible playing the quiet game. Now that might have worked on Caboose, but Donut knew that it was really just Wash trying to gently tell him to shut up, so he had cheated the ‘game’ by switching off his external speaker and instead having a chat with Lopez on a private channel! So his brain was still coming out of El-Spanisho mode.

Micce just blinked at him. The thick curly bangs that never quite seemed to make it back into the main braid looked almost comical now, seeing the length of the rest of Micce’s hair. Donut didn’t want to say that though, so instead he opted for a cheerful,

“You should wear it down more! It looks so soft too! Is it hard to get it into that braid you wear all the time? I’ve heard that curls can be sooo unruly, especially with helmet hair,” Donut crossed the narrow room now, armor half forgotten by his temporary locker to engage Micce in conversation.

“How do you keep it from getting kinky from the braid? Mine always has this like dip in it from where I tie it up, you have to share the secret with me!”

“Oh,” Micce narrowed his eyes, and held up a hand to pause Donut for a moment. “I don’t wear it down because, ya know, helmet, I think it is pretty soft but I’m biased. It isn’t super hard to braid especially if I’m doing it myself because I’m pretty quick, but it can be a hassle if someone else tries because they get lost in the curls which I think counts as unruly?”

Micce folded down one finger at a time as he answered Donut’s questions. He was so sweet like that, making sure he didn’t miss anything! Donut appreciated it.

“Anddd I switch the direction and angle I braid it at, mostly because if I’m undoing it I hate to put it right back where it was. Also I think it’s because it’s a loose braid? It settles better under my helmet but I think it also doesn't get as squished into the braid kinks because of that?”

Micce lowered his hand now that he had answered the questions and tilted his head curiously at Donut.

“You have long hair?”

“Oh! Right, duh—“ Donut tugged off his helmet, tossing it towards the bench that had his gloves on them already. Then he reached up, taking a moment to find the little hair tie desperately fighting to keep his own hair up in the bun at the back of his head.

“I’ve tried the looser hair style thing! But it just won’t stay up for me when I try, I don’t know why,” Donut lamented, even as he coaxed his own hair free. He knew Micce had seen him without his helmet but, like Micce, it was hard to judge how long Donut’s hair actually was when it was tied up.

“Ta-da!” Donut beamed once his hair was loose. It brushed against his scars, which still felt weird even after all these years. Micce blinked again, and not just the quick kind of blink that everyone does, but his weird slow blink. It always made Donut think of a cat, which, when he told Washington that little fact, Wash had scrunched up his nose in a funny expression that also reminded Donut of a cat. He wondered how Wash would look if he wore cat ears, actually, because Donut was certain Micce could pull them off. Micce had a very cat-like face, especially with his cleft lip and the little fang poking out over his bottom lip because of it.

“Actually, wait, is that why Pavoz calls you Neko all the time? Oh, that’s so sweet! What a fun way to get a nickname,”

“He calls me Neko because my first name is Necoda,” Micce answered, seemingly unphased by Donut’s tirade about cat ears that had not been entirely intended to be said out loud. Oh well. “And because no one pronounces Micce right. Neko is just easier,”

“Wait, I'm not saying it right?” Donut crossed his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner! Oh gosh, I’m sorry- how do I say it right?”

“You- you can’t. It’s hard, it’s like—“ Micce frowned, tilting his head side to side. “It’s a throat thing? I don’t really know how to explain it, but you have to make two sounds at once. I don’t mind whichever sound is easier for people to make to be the version they use, it’s just… not correct? If you want to call me Neko like Pavoz does instead, that’s fine, but how you’ve been saying it is fine too. I don’t care,”

Donut hesitated because usually when someone says they don’t care, they didn’t look so sad about it. And Micce— Neko— did look sad. Why, Donut couldn’t begin to guess but—

“If it’s a Chorusan name, why can’t anyone else say it right? That just seems rude of them,”

“Oh, it’s not Chorusan,” Neko laughed. “I’m not from Chorus,” He snapped like something occured to him and pointed a finger pistol at Donut with the same hand and a grin. “Hey! Something I have in common with you guys! Neat, huh?”

“You’re not? Wait- are you lying again?” Donut squinted.

“I’m not, but if you think I’m lying then asking me doesn’t matter, does it?” Neko winked. “I could be lying about lying, or I’m being completely honest! ‘The next statement is true, the previous statement is false’ kind of shit. You’ll never know the answer,” Micce shook his head. “But we were talking about hair, not tragic backstories,”

“Oh! Right!” Donut could see the obvious topic change but you know what? Fair enough! It was clearly something Neko didn’t want to talk about, and Donut did have one more question about his hair anyways.

“Can I play with your hair? Like, while you’ve got it down?” Donut grinned. “No gloves! Wouldn’t want to catch on anything,”

Neko blinked his weird cat blink, then shrugged.

“Yeah, sure. Just don’t tug,”

“I would never tug on someone unless they wanted me too!”

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[milchig-de]

Caught 2

Pairing: Lighter Lorenz x Reader

Summary: You take care of Lighter after your session and he has a nightmare.

Warnings: Allusion to previous sexual activities, nightmares

Notes: Ok this is gonna be bad im writing this at 1 am publishing with no proof reading. I'll look over it tmrw.... have fun!

The next time you wake up, only an hour or so must have passed. Bleary, you open your eyes. You see Lighter's face- his expression still somewhat fucked out- his eyes closed and mouth slightly open. He doesn't move when you quietly call out his name.

Your room still has the same shitty curtains that let in sunlight even if they're closed, the same cutesy, fluffy carpet that Lucy insisted you needed to have and the same furniture you took great care to choose and buy from folks who simply needed money. An uncomfortable feeling spreads in you. A mix of your muscles screaming at you, your head pounding because of an insufficient amount of sleep and a healthy dose of half dried stickiness from where you're still covered in cum.... Right. That should probably be cleaned.

Groaning, you get up as gently as you can, to avoid waking Lighter up. Then you make your way to a small bathroom that you managed to shoehorn into the already small room. Wetting a cloth with warm water, you wipe yourself off first. It'd be great if you had your own shower, but the sink and toilet were already trouble enough.

After washing the cloth off, you wet it again. Sitting down at the edge of the bed, you stare at Lighter for a moment. The last beams of sunlight stream into your room, illuminating his face just right. His hair glints with a golden hint, his face more relaxed than you've ever seen it while awake. His lips parted, letting out soft snores every once in a while. The scars covering his body can only make you wonder what kind of life he's lived up until now.

Of course, you managed to roughly piece together bits and pieces to get a full picture but... You sigh. Perhaps you will never understand the full extent of the suffering he had, and likely still has, to endure.

For now though, you focus on wiping him down with the cloth.

Pulling back, you observe him once more. His chest still rises frequently and deeply, so he doesn't seem to have woken up. A bit of cum still remains on his side, right in the corner between his body and the bedsheets. You consider moving him to clean, but he's probably too heavy for you. So you satisfy youself with wiping the corners anyway and pushing down the bedding to get everything. After you're done, you wash the cloth off and hang it up to dry. You can wash it properly with the rest of your laundry.

Strewn about clothes from both you and Lighter cover the room. Picking all of them up, you fold them as neatly as you can and place them on the side. You consider putting on boxers, but since he's not wearing any, it's probably fine not to wear any either.

For the third time, you sit down to observe Lighter. Nothing has changed from his previous state. Perhaps it's your headache or your muscle ache that makes your brain so foggy you have to sit down before you continue your tasks.

But before you can move to lie down again, Lighter's chest starts moving up and down faster, almost erratically. On top of that, his limbs twitch, almost clenching his fists. His face scrunches up, seemingly in pain. It's obvious he's having a nightmare. You freeze; what the hell are you supposed to do in a situation like this?

He doesn't give you any time to think, becuase he lets out an awful sounding moan. You vaguely recall someone else comforting their beloved, so you decide to imitate that. Embracing him, you lie on top of him and wind your arms around him. You pepper his face with kisses, throwing in mumbles of "I love you" and "It's fine, it's okay. No one's hurting you" in.

It seems to work, as his breathing calms down soon after that, his expression and muscles relax. You're surprised, but he continues sleeping like nothing happened.

Your heart clenches at the thought that he had to endure this all by himself. You press another gentle kiss to his face, a tear escaping you. You sniffle a little and try to distract yourself by sorting out the muddled together blanket and covering both of you with it. With the headache you already have, crying would be fatal for you. So you manage to successfully suppress your outburst and lie down next to him, falling into a dreamless slumber.

[eosofspades]

also love aroaceness love being aroacespec but i need to vent for a sec, realizing im on the aro spectrum and queering my ideas about how relationships can be has fucking eviscerated my ability to write romance. nearly every one i try to write ends up being more queerplatonic and suuuper not traditionally romantic (in most cases you can't even really call it that), and even when it doesn't, i get totally lost trying to write the attraction bc - i can't describe it as "wanting to be more," bc romance isn't inherently better/more fulfilling than platonic relationships, i think an actual romantic relationship is already just a best friend with different intimacy, but you can't boil it down to JUST that, bc then that's physical/sexual attraction which is a whole third thing, and anyway friends can kiss and sleep together perfectly platonically, and what even IS the difference between platonic and romantic anyway? like yeah my romance writing when i was 12 was a little more shallow but at least it was ROMANCE. please its so dark in here

[lemedstudent2021]

Where should Jews live? Where do they belong? Where do you consider their native land to be? Honest question.

an honest question deserves an honest answer so here ya go:

Anywhere and everywhere. Jews- the followers of the Abrahamic religion Judaism- along with Muslims, Christians, Atheists, Sikhs, Vegans, and literally any human being under the sun have the right to live wherever they please (given certain criteria are met like visas and that it isnt a military station/ off limits area etc).

Yes my dear reader(s) you read that right; ones faith or lack thereof shouldnt be an obstacle in any aspect of ones life, be it medical services, education, job opportunities, so on and so forth. How novel.

That answers where they 'should' live (although I dont by any means impose anything on anyone; y'all do whatever as long as its legal and harms no one including yourself. God bless). Could is more accurate.

As for where they 'belong', this in my opinion is one of the beauties of religion: people from all walks of life can belong to a religion. Diversity lies at the heart of our existence as human beings and denying it is like denying the existence of the sun. Tolerance is a must if we are ever going to get along with each other. And this belonging isn't irrevocabley tied to geography. But I digress :)

Quick aside just so we're all on the same page: converting to a religion renders you just as valid and equal as someone born into a religion. Most if not all religions preach equality between their followers regardless of background, so i wont hear anything of 'oh theyre not real xyz' or 'they dont count' or any of that bs.

By this logic (religious demographics are, generally speaking, very diverse), there is no 'this set of people belong here, and those over there' ...and proof of that in a sense would be atheists/ agnostics; where would they 'belong'? Antarctica? Outer space? alright ill stop XD

If that were the case, most of the planet would be crammed in the Middle East lol [Syria, Jordan, and Lebanon alone are home to 34M (as of 2023), and the followers of the 3 main Abrahamic religions are an estimated 3.4B (as of 2020) globally. We wouldnt fit even if we used one of these]. Yeah nationality/ race/ ethnicity/ background influence and maybe even dictate one's religious identity, but it isn't the all or nothing we may think it to be.

Which brings us nicely to the next point, and here if you'll allow me i'd like to correct it to native land of Judaism (where it originated/ flourished/ spread whatever) as opposed to native land of Jews because as i mentioned above, a religion doesnt (or shouldnt) differentiate nor discriminate between its followers. By restricting them to one geographical location (and for some using it as an indicator of their authenticity) we do them great disservice as well as contradict the teachings themselves. A demonstration:

Im Jordanian right, (dad's maternal side are from bilad al sham; Syria) and im a born Muslim alhamdulillah. My dads Malaysian roommates from his uni days are also born Muslims (and have the best food lol, my all time favourite is lemak cili padi) and seperating us on the basis of them not being Arab or Middle Eastern is unislamic, intolerant, xenophobic, and wrong on every level. Alternatively, im just as Muslim as someone from Mecca or Medina. We're all Muslim. we are the world...

Circling back, Judaism the religion is native to the Holy land (I guess you can say it started in Egypt till it moved there but idk. Regardless), and Jews (adherants of the faith) can't in my humble opinion be fairly categorised as one monolithic unit... just like any and every other faith out there.

Another quick aside; this is merely a tumblr post that cant do the history and culture and intricacies and so much more of this matter a portion of the justice it deserves. I am but a tired medical student answering to the best of my abilities a question I was asked with my limited knowledge in theology and perspective in general, so do me a favour and keep that in mind. And to anyone reading this if you have questions or corrections or resources or anything you want to mention be my guest :)

If you're still here, I'm both grateful and amused. Here's what you probably came for, the piece de resistance if you will: 🍉israel🍉

Disclaimer: thanks for reading this far, but if you disagree in any way shape or form with any of the 30 human rights articles, you may as well stop reading and put your device through the shredder. Bigots, racists, fascists, anti vaxxers etc. dni

So far ive seen this idea, call it what you will, two times (which isnt a lot but its weird that it happened to me twice consecutively), that claims the freedom of Palestine equals a genocide of the Jews.

Er, no? No ma'am. One does not solve a genocide by comitting another genocide. What part of 'never again' are we missing here?

Before we get into politcal nominations and factions and other territories i dont plan on invading (pun intended) but might accidentally cross anyway (I forgot where i was going with this) i want to remind everyone that Judaism is not synonymous with Israel nor zionism (if u disagree with this go ahead and shred ur device too).

A refresher: Judaism is a religion, Israel is an illegal-occupying-apartheid-state, and Zionism is a movement/ ideology

So 'genocide of the Jews' is both wrong (diction) and more wrong (factually incorrect) in that the liberation of Palestine means freedom from oppression, discrimination, settler colonialism... the whole nine yards. Enough bloodshed already its been nearly 76 years.

When Netenyahu is eventually drop kicked out of office (and hopefully hung, drawn, and quartered for his plentiful warcrimes) what happens to the (illegal) citizens of Israel? Well first off, return the stolen homes and land to their rightful owners who have the keys (and documents if they werent tampered with or erased) to prove it.

As for the illegal-under-international-law settlements and new also illegal establishments; I have no idea what international laws will decree (not that I have that much faith in the judiciary system), but I assume they will be seized and evicted of the illegal tenants (how you like me now?) and given to those who have been displaced or homes ruined etc. because its theirs and theirs alone and it was unlawfully and cruelly taken away from them and not because the (remaining lol) former Israeli citizens can't or shouldn't live in palestine. they can go live somewhere where its legal. the priority is Palestinians tho.

What about the indigenous everyone else? As long as their houses aren't stolen or illegal they can should stay because its legal and its theirs and thats that. you cannot kick someone out of their home to give it to another (which was the basis of the creation of Israel.) because its ✨i l l e g a l✨

And the people who dont belong so to speak? I think this one's case by case; like I said at the very, very beginning; people have the right to live wherever as long as its legal and ok to do so regardless of faith or background, and no one should be denied their right to live in Palestine as a country like any other, but they certainly must be denied living in homes stolen and given to them because thats, say it with me now, illegal <3

[presiding]

What is your favourite thing about Billie Lurk?

(Answers are obvious possibly but i love when people talk about her👍)

thanks for the ask!! YEAH ME TOO I love when people talk about Billie! I can't say I have a favourite thing specifically, but I can explain why she's my fav. apologies for not taking this qn literally, but -

short answer: she’s really cool

& you can stop reading there, or, for the maybe 2 mutuals who might have time to read this my thoughts on her as a character, her meta, and her character as raw potential...

long answer:

i considered making this entire thing a gush so you could read a gush about Billie. but, part of what draws me to her is that she’s not always well written, and in fandom she’s underrated for a literal protagonist.

since you ask...

billie is a cool character

when I played Dh2 (hadn't played Dh1), I was excited to see a black woman with disabilities who was captaining a massive ship by herself. wow.

then I discovered Billie’s backstory with Deirdre, the way she responded to that, then having to survive while living on the run, and her bisexuality. as well as her history with daud & delilah. fascinating!

she’s an outsider who has so much to lose, and knows what it's like to lose everything - having lost everything not once but three times - but nevertheless speaks truth to power. she's so brave! she went and helped Emily & Corvo and she must have known they might kill her! plus, she’s smart, she’s funny, she gets shit done, she’s gorgeous.

but... the meta

mild critique of fandom & arkane incoming.

skip this bit if you want - you've been warned twice now - jump to tired Hayao Miyazaki and read from there if you'd like my thoughts on writing her.

i thought Death of the Outsider was going to be amazing and then... well. *sad trombone* i've written about that before so i won't keep banging on. i figured others must be disappointed too, so I joined a few fandom spaces in hopes of finding camaraderie.

most people with complaints about DotO didn’t like how the Outsider and Daud were handled. which is valid & I agree. but it seemed like most paid no attention to Billie; when people talk about her it’s with respect to Daud, as opposed to in her own right. you could argue for fandom misogyny because people don’t talk about adult Emily Kaldwin that much either, but in Billie's case, it’s misogynoir (compare & contrast with the popularity of thomas, particularly the popularity of thomas portrayed as a white man for no particular reason that i've been able to discern - i keep asking around, is it in the books???).

i think this is a LOT better now than it used to be, which is fantastic. or perhaps i have found the correct echo-chamber? ha.

ultimately, The Fandom is a fraction of the entire picture, and not even the important bit since The Fandom is not who these games are made for. you can't make money relying on only your hardcore fans even if all of them spent a fortune on merch, this is true for any AAA game.

while it's true that Billie is underrated from a fandom perspective - but Billie as an underwritten protagonist is squarely Arkane’s fault.

it was reasonable when she was a side character - the lack of info in Dh2 makes perfect sense (if anything there was more lore in Dh2 which is kind of wild)-

- but as a protagonist in Death of the Outsider?

.... there’s lousy writing, and there’s whatever is going on with Billie Lurk, a black woman who mostly exists as a foil or saviour for light-skinned characters. In her own game there’s barely any of her own lore except where it's relevant to saving two dudes.

lore hints at, but barely touches on what race means in the Dh universe (xenophobia is stronger in Dh1; separate essay i guess), but Arkane has patted themselves on the back for portraying non-white characters, which feels like the same thing as the aesthetic of diversity we're seeing in advertising currently because it’s in marketing trend guides. it's self-congratulatory and it's a missed opportunity for deeper storytelling.

you can see an example of diversity at its most shallow in the way that Billie’s written: there’s little engagement with her as an entire person with history & wants & preferences, and the world she walks through in that game feels like it has nothing to do with her. you could make a case for alienation as a theme, but then, how do you handle the titular premise of 'Dishonored' without ever letting Billie make changes in an environment without a chaos system? it's disappointing from that angle too.

in my opinion, whatever it's worth, it was an accident Arkane created such an awesome character - they needed someone to betray daud. congrats billie.

all this said, it makes her an underdog as far as characters to enjoy & create art & stories for. it's nice to find so many like-minded, switched on people! <3

billie's character potential

she’s got a wealth of unexplored lore, being deeply intertwined with both Karnaca & Dunwall’s fates & criminal underbellies, as well as her connections to the witches & whalers, and three Empresses.

she’s lived a few distinct lifetimes and in the games we get to meet her at two peaks (KoD & DotO) & a low (Dh2 as Meagan).

her voice is very distinct, her dry & often dark humour is entertaining & fun to write. her perspective is really interesting - she’s had the widest variety of void-powers of anyone canonically, and she’s also lived through the highest highs and lowest lows.

she's got everything going for her :) i couldn't really pick a fav thing!

[uchiha-gaeshi]

Man I got some posts I gotta re-reblog. I even have some asks that have been sitting in my drafts for months. I’ll be working on it….soon…

[pendinganchor]

i’m currently trying to write a scene of a character coming out as trans to his older brother and i’m legit sobbing so hard i can’t even write it

(cw this if for the harry potter fandom I’M SORRY i just love these characters so much but please understand that i hate jkr with my entire being)

Ron carefully took the gift with one hand— the other staying wrapped around his big brother’s arm. He set it on his lap then unwrapped the cloth. He stared down at the hair clip, tears quickly filling his eyes again. “Thank you.” His voice shook and he knew it didn’t sound genuine.

“You don’t like it?”

Ron’s free hand smacked up to his eyes to cover them. “It’s not that,” he sobbed. He tried to take calming breaths, but it was becoming harder to breathe— harder to stay quiet. “Everything feels wrong. All the time.”

it’s okay ron, i am sobbing right along with you

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

Yknow, the fact that Matsushige looks like a knock-off Sohei Dojima probably really didn’t help matters did it

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

we write like men we post like boys

[monster-noises]

I came on here to make a different post initially and I may still make that post in the tags but now the main body of this post is gunna be about how weird it is that of all the things I have come on here to Repeatedly Gripe about like some big sad lump I am regularly embarrassed and ashamed to write posts about me wanting a relationship and the troubles my mind has about it? Like it's not Less personal than me writing about any other issue I am dealing with but somehow it Feels Different and I keep shying away from it and it's really backing things up in the ol' noggin, which isn't Great

[desperatepleasures]

I was rereading one of my old murayuu fics from a couple years ago and I was like wait this is actually good??? I forgot that for some reason my best writing is inexplicably always murayuu

[arolesbianism]

Having Wickerbottom thoughts... She's so silly

[qeyond]

Youtube | Spotify

CW abuse/trauma/ptsd. It's a pretty raw song (both in lyrics and the way Black Dresses preforms their songs) so listen at your own discretion.

This song really speaks so honestly to the deeply self-destructive spiralling for B, in my opinion. Speaking politeness through your gritted teeth with a lying softness, boiling over, letting it out, feeling it on your bared, snarling teeth, breathing out smoke, "is it me? am I the problem? am I the evil monster?", "its always been me", spitting up blood, biting the hand that feeds and ripping them the fuck to shreds to be left alone.

Lyrics under the cut.

Why thank you for your opinion What you think is so important So let's talk this out i love it You're so funny i hope you're doing well Thank god for the tongue in your mouth I'm so happy i'm so lucky I get to do whatever i can be myself But you know what? I have zero tolerance for Bad little shitheads Who only seem to fuck around

Same shit different day You need to fuck off you need to go away I don't wanna talk about it That's all that I came to say Get out of my space You worthless fucking fuckface

Who the fuck do you think you are? Who the fuck do you think you are? Who the fuck do you think you are? Who the fuck do you think you are?

Hey bitch, what the fuck's going on? Is this how you wanna spend the Last few years of your life? Of your life? The last few years your legacy Your legacy your legacy your

You can hide out in your tiny little lair You can be the fucking evil monster terror Scared you can be the evil monster It was always you it was always you It was always you it was always you It was always you

It was always something I couldn't be That was just outside reality It was always something I couldn't know That I didn't know that I shouldn't show Because everything around me Felt just like a bad dream It was all or nothing Be the kind of person you hate or be

Hated for the things that you Thought were common sense Just a little further One day it will make sense Hold yourself a little tighter Your innocence

Preyed upon and vilified by Your blood and friends

Who am I if I can't assign a Name and place to what this is? Everything that's mine feels rotten from The touch of it everything all the time is a Message that I shouldn't be Who the fuck are you? Stay the fuck away from me

I want to love myself but Memories are killing me I want to live but all the years That came before won't let me be I want to love myself but Memories are killing me I want to live but all the years That came before won't let me be I want to love myself but Memories are killing me I want to live but all the years That came before won't let me be I want to love myself but Memories are killing me Memories are killing me Memories are killing me it hurts

[friedricebunny]

fanfic writer kdj is a idea that sometimes bounces around in my head but honestly i'd have no idea where i'd even go with that idea (also tbh i'm not confident enough in my understanding of kdj or anybody's characterization to want to write them)

[hurryflurrie]

Wow the first post I'm making and I've had this account for how long?! Welp, good of a time as any. I recently made this bundle of joy and I'm quite proud of how they turned out. For context, this was originally a grim reaper OC that I played in character.ai. (Very cringe I am aware)

They were originally a really boring run of the mill grim reaper that wasn't any different from the original. I really wanted them to stand out from other grim reapers I've seen and honestly it ended up better than I expected, so here they are:

Tenshi Nevermore

Age: Unknown

Species: Reaper

Gender: N/A and doesn't care what pronouns are used to refer to them

Sexuality: Aro/Ace

Height: 8'0"

Backstory

Reapers are soulless beings that do not have any emotions and are naturally apathetic creatures. They exist in a realm completely devoid of life. It's a barren, dull, desolate wasteland with the only surroundings being random huts built by the Reapers out of sheer boredom. Many Reapers have died out as a result of their eternal boredom, so very few remain in this realm. Getting sick of letting the boredom overtake them, Tenshi left the realm in search of a purpose for existing, picking up bounty hunting as a way to hunt for souls, the only thing they are able to eat. They wound up in Hell after taking a bounty to kill a seemingly harmless demon named Azamuku, but failed to do so due to the demon matching them in strength. They gained their own way of respect for the demon, spared her, and overtime the two gained a one-sided friendship with Azamuku being the one wanting friendship and Tenshi only keeping her alive to have an occasional rematch from time to time.

Description

Completely skeletal with no organs or skin. Their skull is like a raven's with a torso similar to a human's but the fingers have very sharp ends akin to claws and the legs and feet are talons with black claws. On their back they have black feathered raven wings that span 9 feet which allows them to fly. Tenshi does have blood-red pupils but they only appear when they sense they are in danger or when trying to be intimidating. Their eye sockets are usually empty otherwise. Their attire consists of a black cloak with a hood fashioned with pockets on the inside for storage and black skinny jeans tailored to fit their proportions. All of Tenshi's clothing were made by Azamuku much to Tenshi's protest against it. Their voice is deep, but feminine sounding which is unusual compared to others of their species who have raspy bass voices.

Personality

Nonchalant and non-caring. Due to them being a Reaper, they were born without a soul, rendering them incapable of feeling any emotions so they come across as cold and apathetic. They are also impatient and can be annoyed very easily if prompted. They speak in a soft and monotonous manner when relaxed, but speak with a menacing and sadistic tone when on a job or threatened. Coming from a realm devoid of any life and a bleak colorless atmosphere, they also have an undying boredom that is nearly impossible to satiate. The only times it is temporarily relieved is if they successfully complete a bounty or fight a strong opponent that nearly kills them but it only lasts for a few minutes before coming back. They have a quirk when speaking where instead of saying "god" they instead say words synonymous to nothingness, such as "null".

Likes

Souls

Quiet areas

Combat (takes bounties often for this reason alone)

Melee weapons

Dislikes

Killing things (due to the mess, they'd prefer to just rip the targets' souls out and leave them as husks, but will not hesitate in completely killing them if their job requires it)

Loud constant noise

Boredom

Targets talking to them while fighting

The other members of their race due to their idleness

Guns, Bows, any weapon that is ranged

Weapons

A scythe with the snath being made out of a reinforced, durable dragon spine that has grips wrapped in black leather to make fighting with it easier. The blade is made of a sharpened dragon tooth

Very sharp dual wield daggers carved out of femurs

Strengths

Remarkably clever and observant when in a fight, finding their targets' weaknesses quickly and able to capitalize on them efficiently

When disarmed, they are alarmingly strong despite being skeletal and they are able to maneuver in an agile manner due to their light weight

Creative, and learns crafts rather quickly. Their forging skills are impressive, considering their weapons are made of bone and do not break easily

Weaknesses

Due to their anatomy having avian features, their bones are hollow much like actual birds so they take damage much more severely

Them being quick to annoy also can hinder them in combat, often resulting in them lashing out without thinking and becoming predictable

Tends to underestimate opponents a lot and pays gravely for their error

Very stubborn and will not retreat unless absolutely necessary, which has almost killed them numerous times

You'll need to know this for the test

Tenshi is the shortest of their race. The average height of a Reaper is 12 feet.

Reapers do not care about identity, so none of them have names. Tenshi only has one because Azamuku started calling them "Tenshi" one day and they just got used to it. Their last name they picked for themselves after hearing Azamuku recite an Edgar Allen Poe poem

Tenshi's screams of rage sound like a distorted mix of a Falcon call and several blood curdling screams screaming in unison

Tenshi can die, but eating souls actually adds to their lifespan, making them artificially immortal. If they do not eat souls within the span of 5 years, they will die

When Reapers die, their body disintegrates, leaving nothing behind. They are unable to be resurrected due to lacking a soul

Whenever Tenshi sustains damage, they are able to heal by eating souls, how many they need to eat depends on how severe the damage is

Tenshi can physically feel, such as touch or pain.

When they kill a target/opponent, they usually take a random bone from the body, either as proof the target is 100% dead (they usually just present their soul though) or as a keepsake if they deemed them worthy to remember.

Tenshi has a hidden fascination in weaponcraft and whenever they encounter a new type of weapon, they start studying it immediately. If they like using it enough, they will design one of their own using the bones they have collected

Tenshi can only play most video games for a couple minutes before immediately getting frustrated and/or bored, but they are able to play for longer if the games are specifically Minecraft or Toribash, where they will go for days playing them nonstop.

In Minecraft, Tenshi has a habit of making dirt shacks and completely forgetting where they built them when they go too far from them, so they build a new one and the cycle repeats until the world is littered with abandoned dirt shacks 30 chunks apart from each other...and they will still forget where their numerous dirtshacks are and keep building new ones.

Tenshi is 5th Dan in Toribash and finds enjoyment playing Aikido Big Dojo and Lenshu

If Tenshi played Smash Bros Ultimate they would main Greninja (They would find enjoyment for a few minutes, but never play again since they prefer "realistic" fighting over cartoon violence)

If Tenshi played Mario Kart 8 they would main Dry Bowser and Bone Rattler (They find racing games really boring)

If Tenshi played Splatoon, they would primarily use Splatana Stamper and Splat Dualies (They lack the necessary patience to play shooter games)

If Tenshi played any Pokemon game, they would use only Ghost and Dark types (They think RPGs are tedious and frustrating, especially those with exp systems)