#alas. too chaotic? probably.

[rpftourney]

Can you do mishalecki? I think this could unite us

if i didn’t think it would result in my actual murder i WOULD be tempted to just replace whoever wins with mishalecki i won’t even lie.

[spark-circuit]

haha yeah i can do a quick Survivor run. just to go to the Depths. it'll be fun. wait why am i a mother of two now.

[blujayonthewing]

on the one hand I think an interesting direction to take melliwyk getting increasingly stressed and overtaxed and frantic would be for her behavior become increasingly careless and reckless, but the problem is that a part of why she's been Like This is that I don't want any of the Important Things she's trying to figure out to spin out of control

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION ABOUT THE WEIRD DROW

Replying to a couple of shorter questions! Sorry that I can't get to all of you lest this blog just turns into a stream of constant asks, but I read all of your messages and to be honest there are several that I'm saving to draw something for 😭 alas there are only so many hours in a day.

Thank you for all the support and interactivity as always!

He takes fairly good care of things he considers important or useful - otherwise he's pretty messy or at least indifferent to mess. Definitely a "leaves the wet towel on the bed" guy LOL

Okay so I was bad and not used to DnD mechanics or spells the first time I played the game, so I RARELY ever cast Speak With Animals and had very little sense of their personality during his campaign - BUT THERE WAS THIS ONE TIME WHEN I DID.

THERE WAS ONE TIME WHERE I REMEMBERED.

AND IT WAS PERFECT.

He adores and most of all respects this intense little guy with his whole heart.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Serious answer: he respects wild animals far too much to try and make one into a pet.

Non-serious but still true answer: He would never do that and have to deal with Astarion's incessant Drizzt Do'urden joke comparisons for the rest of his existence. That's that man's personal hell.

He's fairly adaptable! But as far as dynamics go, he does lean bottom regardless of who he's with in bed, but this doesn't necessarily translate into always being on the receptive end of things.

If he were to be with a cisgender woman who doesn't wear a strap like its a second pair of briefs, he would be more than happy to be the pitcher the majority of the time. I think the only scenario where he would be dissatisfied is a restrictive one - he couldn't be with someone who doesn't want to enjoy his whole body in earnest, or who can't flip the roles every once in a while. Also, you have to be a little gross. He has probably caught Astarion off-guard with the things he did on a whim/suggested they do more than once. All in all, as long as whoever he's with is versatile and not a prude, they could probably make it work.

He killed Minthara in her lair and all he got was a bear out of it. Good thing killing her was it's own reward!

MAN... Could just be that his story is far too concrete in my brain already, but it's hard for me to see that working. They are both far too out of touch with their emotions and quiet in their demeanor for me to envision a durable romance sparking. Also, DU drow (who has no clue how old he is himself) thinks of Shadowheart as being far too young for him.

There is a mutual understanding between them that there is a barrier that neither of them is willing to let the other get past - and because that is something they both share, they won't, and they might never try. They work so well as friends because of their similarities, but in a relationship I think that would be to their detriment.

Also, I think silver-haired Shadowheart's wants and needs for her future far diverge from DU drow's chaotic lifestyle, ultimately It's probably best for them to make their own paths.

HAHAHAHA LISTEN.... YOU'RE TALKING AS IF THOSE TWO THINGS DON'T GO TOGETHER PERFECTLY WELL BUT IN MY MIND THEY ARE ONE AND THE SAME.

The thing about DU drow is that he might be a bottom, but he's a very... Uh, engaged bottom. He can be as dominant with a dick in his ass as he can be submissive depending on how it jives with his partner- and he's gonna spew some nonsense either way LOL

Either way... I feel ya brother 😔🍑

He did it himself during a dinner Gortash invited him to. At the table. With a meat knife. He was trying to prove a really stupid point/put Gortash off of him.

I have a script for this and I still need to draw it someday! 🤦‍♂️

He doesn't think anything of it now - it's so far in the past and DU drow obviously isn't the judgemental type when it comes to sordid individuals LOL

As a person, however, Astarion likely wasn't the kind of guy that he would have gotten along with, and vice-versa. Sounds to me like he was pretty poshy and did all his misdeeds under the table - DU drow wouldn't have strong feelings about it from an ethical standpoint, but he wouldn't respect it either. Also, DU drow's is practically anarchistic in his political views - soooooo not much room there to be in love with politicians. I'm sure pre-vampirism Astarion would have less than favorable opinions about him as well so the feeling would have been mutual LOL.

ABSOLUTELY NOT HE NEEDS BOTH EYES TO CUT THROUGH FOES he will gladly put Gale on the slab to see what happens though LMAO

[darling-im-wonderstruck]

hii!! could you write something where peter and reader go grocery shopping, then he gets lost in the store but it’s just super fluffy?? tysm :)

back to you | p.p.

synopsis : no matter what happens, no matter the circumstances, no matter the situation, you knew peter would always find his way back to you.

pairing : bf!peter parker x reader

wc : 589

warnings : flufffffff !! and peter being a chaotic idiot 😭

‎‎ ───── masterlist | request | navigation

a/n : hi ! sorry the fic is a little late this week again 😓, the title and summary is so dramatic given the fic LMAOAOSKSMJSND but anyways !!! this was based on @sacharinee’s grocery shopping headcanons ! please read m’s works, they’re all amazing :) <3 💞

y’know, grocery shopping can be pretty fun if you don’t just sigh and mope around.” you grin. peter on the other hand, had a pout on his face. he was avoiding you whilst making sure he was never further than three feet away.

“you didn’t let me get the chocolate covered wafers,” he mumbles, looking down. you couldn’t help but giggle at your lover’s antics. he’s been like this on the car ride to the grocery store and its only gotten worse once you arrived.

“we’re only here to buy our meals for the week, and you promised, no unnecessary purchases,” you called back to the promise he made before leaving. grocery shopping with peter was almost like babysitting a full grown adult, and you didn’t know if you were up for that today.

but alas, here you were.

“this is necessary! i’m starving,” he groans but he quickly follows it up with, “you’d let me get them if you love me.” a smile was slowly creeping up on his face.

you give him a soft peck on the lips (one gladly accepts), before saying, “i love youuu!” peter grins hopefully after hearing that. “but we are not getting those wafers,” you say, continuing your round throughout the grocery store, peter trailing behind you.

despite peter’s growing hanger, he manages to make himself helpful by grabbing heavy batches of items, placing them into your cart. you send him a smile of approval which makes peter all giddy and proud, suddenly, he’s in a pretty good mood.

his mood only improved once he saw samples, all laid out neatly on a nearby stall. he quickly glances at you to take note of where you are, and he’s off taking multiple samples of the same food so he can share some with you.

but as soon as he comes back to the bread and pastry section, you’re nowhere to be found.

at first, he isn’t too worried about it, he’s certain that you’d come back for him anytime now.

anytime now…

the panic really starts to settle in once thirty minutes have passed, he was starting to get looks, he’d been standing there alone, samples in one hand, phone in the other.

he’d tried calling, unfortunately for him, your phone was on silent.

he couldn’t wait any longer, at some point, he begun showing anyone he could see a photo of you, asking if they’d seen you anywhere. when he realizes no one’s seen you, the panic fully sinks in.

but really, you were lined up by the cashier, you hadn’t noticed when peter had left your side, but you thought it would be safe to assume that he was okay, probably looking for more samples.

unbeknownst to you, he was far from okay.

he paced back and forth in the dairy aisle, mumbling, running his hands through his hair, thinking of every possible outcome of you being separated.

“baby?” and when his head turns towards you, you could’ve sworn you saw tears beginning to form.

next thing you know, his arms are tightly wrapped around your waist and he’s peppering soft kisses on your shoulder.

“what’s wrong?” truthfully, you were starting to worry.

“i turned around and you were just— gone.” that’s when you broke, you couldn’t hold it in anymore, you burst into laughter.

“you, peter parker, are an idiot.” you say, a fond smile on your face, one he couldn’t help but mirror, “and, i hope these will make you feel better.”

you pull something out of your grocery bag, low and behold… “the chocolate covered wafers!”

taglist : (send me an ask/dm to be added !) @live-laugh-lovejoy @tomsholland2412 @parkerpeter24 @herpeanutzombie

a/n : tysm for reading :) pls reblog to support your writers !!! requests are open !

[minecraftdog]

polish dnf for @suenitos event ❤️🤍🥟🍺🕊️🇵🇱

click for better quality

this was heading in a bit of a different direction at the start but then the nostalgia got me and possessed me...

alas, here's real slavic Drzemek and Jerzix, which are not actual polish names, but plays on their names in English creating silly nicknames. and yes, George is Jerzy in Polish and not Grzegorz.

Drzemek is wearing, what I like to call, a wixapol style track suit. He obviously has completely shaved off on his head, like a 'dres', even though he is a cultured man. I apologise for him smoking Marlboro... but it's a commentary about growing up in poverty on osiedle and its consequences to be more prone to do stimulants...

George is fully cunty gay in clothes inspired by half of my gimnazjum, and the trasher hoodies they wore, but make it croptop. The important detail is that he is wearing flipflops and socks, what is very polish. He is doing the slavic squat to show off his tramp stamp. also don't pay attention to who he has on his back pockets...

There's so much stuff and references around them that you probably don't want me to explain. Overall, everything is done in this chaotic meme style that in Poland, I fear, is no longer ironic, and people just like to photoshop mess of pictures and wordart together. I see way too many facebook meme pages with this sorta thing.

Dziękuję bardzo i przepraszam.

[ddarker-dreams]

Hedonist.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan. 

Continuation of Declawed.

Warnings: Not SFW, dubcon (Reader is under the influence of aphrodisiacs), yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics. Word count: 7.5k. 

You are in a room with four walls.

How you got here does not matter. You know you may not leave.

Behind a closed set of drapes lies a window. 

In this room with no past or future, there is but one choice you can make.

Will you peer beyond the curtains or leave them drawn? 

For if you choose to look, there is no telling what you may see. 

… 

“... [First].” 

“Hm?” 

You’re someplace different than where your mind alleged. This is not your coveted room with four, blank walls, where no one can come or go. You’re sitting at a dining room table that tilts too far to the left. There’s an untouched meal in front of you, a cup of tea that’s gone cold, and a napkin folded over your lap just the way you prefer. 

A man sits across from you — Chrollo Lucilfer. He’s staring at you, his fingers steepled, and his body leaning forward. His meal has long been finished. You blink, feeling like a computer that’s booting back up. The fog covering your senses lifts too slowly for your liking. Eventually, a blueprint of your surroundings solidifies in your mind. 

There are three people in the surrounding area, excluding yourself. Two are a formidable threat. One is not. 

“You seem distracted,” Chrollo’s voice gives nothing away. His eyes do though, just a little bit. Concern? Intrigue? You cannot pinpoint where each ends and begins. “That’s unusual for you.” 

You hate when he’s right. “I’d pay more attention if you said anything worthwhile.” 

His lips quirk up. “Is your health not worthwhile?” 

He’s got you where he wants you.

“If you’re truly concerned about my health, then you’ll return my Hatsu,” you maintain unflinching eye contact. He exhales through his nose, belying slight exasperation. “The events of today should prove I’d do better with it from the onset.” 

“In emergencies, yes. And I did return it. Long enough for you to dispatch the threat… and to hurt Feitan’s feelings, evidently.” 

You ignore his last comment, seriously doubting its authenticity. 

“One of the threats, at least,” you make a show of looking him up and down. He sighs, probably heavier than he intended, the chaotic past twenty-four hours undoubtedly weighing him down. Sensing that this particular conversation is better off over, he reclines back into his chair. Instead of mirroring his posture, you cross your legs, fold your gloved hands together, and rest them on your lap. You’re doing everything within your power to give the impression nothing is amiss. 

Alas, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Something is very, very wrong with you. 

It all began with an ambush on the car ride to this safe house. Assassins are par for the course in your line of work, it wasn’t your first encounter and you doubt it’ll be the last. The main problem was that for the first time in your life, you were fighting without your Hatsu in a situation that would’ve strongly benefited from its use. The group focused their attention on you and the Manipulator must’ve met his conditions for his ability to activate. A strange sensation swept over and temporarily debilitated you. Chrollo was quick to notice how you staggered — truthfully, you played it close to the chest to see if he’d risk returning your Hatsu should you be in mortal peril — a gamble that did and didn’t pay off.

It felt like a piece of your soul had been returned to you. Your conjured sword sliced down your three pursuers, they were entirely caught off guard by its appearance. That left you without about a second to retaliate with your briefly returned arsenal until Chrollo realized what you were planning. Ideally, you would’ve preferred to attack Chrollo, since your win condition lay in either killing him or removing his ability to conjure Bandit’s Secret. He was aware of this and kept just enough distance for that very reason. 

It had been Feitan who risked getting the closest to prevent the assassins from doing you any major harm in light of your lackluster dodging. Both he and Chrollo must’ve recognized what you were trying to do and likely considered you more of a threat than the assassin trio. You tried not to be obvious about your intentions, but they’re too sharp. 

The second long window you had felt like more than enough to seriously injure Feitan. While your physical strength had been on the lower side compared to the other Troupe members, you were faster; far outclassing the others in that particular skill set. This boon came with its own share of disadvantages, such as your tendency to tire faster in a fight if it dragged on for hours. However, you were finally in a uniquely advantageous position. You had conserved your strength in case an opening presented itself, and although it almost landed you in hot water to not go all out against three opponents, it ultimately worked in your favor. 

You lunged forward at Feitan with what should’ve been a definitive strike. The speed was there, but the power was not; the Manipulator’s unknown ability weakened you far more than you’d anticipated. It was only recently that you realized his Nen must’ve strengthened in death. It felt mostly inconsequential when you first experienced it; you didn’t think to leave the Manipulator alive as a safeguard. 

Feitan withstood the hit with some minor injuries. Your Hatsu no longer heeded your call, proof that Chrollo had taken it back. You were subdued, Feitan being far rougher than necessary and grumbling under his breath. For the past few hours, you’ve refocused all your energy toward keeping whatever that Manipulator did to you under control without giving your captors a glimpse of your weakened state. This control is steadily waning. Meditation aided you for a time, but you can tell it's growing in intensity, hence your current predicament. 

Your body’s temperature is steadily rising. At first, you hypothesized the ability is supposed to make you mortally ill, but your gut tells you that isn’t the entire picture. Aside from feeling warm and not having all your strength, you don’t believe you’re knocking on death’s door. The symptoms don’t point toward anything that serious. It’s almost as if it made you want something — there’s this primal craving inside you, trying desperately to claw its way to the surface. 

Whatever you’re currently riddled with, it's excruciating. You don’t know how much more you can take or how to put a stop to it. 

There had been a fourth party whose tracking ability led the assassins to you in the first place. After watching his comrades get eviscerated, his Zetsu wavered, giving away his position. Feitan is playing with his new toy in the basement. It’s been in the back of your mind that this fourth man might know the Manipulator’s ability. That’s why you’ve been so desperate to keep the extent of your malaise under wraps, lest Feitan learns something imperative and keeps you in the dark about it. It’ll ultimately be Chrollo’s decision, but you know they’re both not happy with your little stunt earlier. If they learn it’s nothing too detrimental, they’ll let you suffer through it as a punishment. 

“May I be excused?” You inquire with the politest tone you can muster. 

Chrollo motions to your untouched plate. “You haven’t eaten.” 

You knew this would be a point of contention. Not due to any rampant concern on his part, you both know that you’re capable of surviving without food for long periods. He’s just using this as an opportunity to see what’s truly wrong with you — he has to have his suspicions by now. You glance down at your meal. Grilled chicken, leafy greens, and a scoop of rice. The ultra-healthy regiment that Chrollo knows you favor and Feitan complains about. You still remember the look the latter gave you when you wrote chickpeas on the grocery list. 

Lying is a useless endeavor when Chrollo’s involved, he can see past your poker face without issue. Telling the truth is your best bet. “I don’t have an appetite.” 

He makes a show of looking at his watch. “You always have dinner at this time of day.” 

“There’s nothing I can do if I don’t feel hungry now. I’ll eat it in the morning.” 

You know how he loathes food being wasted and try to redirect his attention toward that. This time, you phrase it as a statement rather than a question. Chrollo gives you a long, silent look. His gray eyes pick you apart without any subtlety. He parts his lips, preparing to say something, when his attention shifts elsewhere. 

A blur comes flying your way. From reflex alone, you catch it. A first aid kit? Feitan stands at the kitchen doorway where it must’ve been thrown, wearing a black sleeveless shirt. You stop yourself from frowning. You should’ve been able to sense his presence. Any other time, doing so comes as easy as breathing, but your senses are off-kilter. You can only hope that the ease with which you caught the first aid kit covered this blunder. 

Considering the weight of Chrollo’s stare, that might be a far-fetched dream. 

“Fix this,” Feitan nods at the untreated gash on his right arm, courtesy of your earlier attack. Cutting any synovial hinge joint would have proved helpful, especially against a swordsman like Feitan. Seeing the wound up close shows your aim was slightly off. The attack landed too low on his forearm. You can’t remember the last time you made a mistake like this — it must’ve been back when you were a child. If it weren’t for that Manipulator’s ability, you would be in a far better situation right now.

The chair scrapes against the floor when Feitan pulls it out. Not seeing the point in making his mood worse, you wordlessly take the steps to comply with his demand. You go to the kitchen sink, remove your leather gloves, and wash your hands. The cool water running over your skin feels heavenly. However, you notice a damning detail while you dry yourself off. 

Your hands are shaking. 

You don’t stare at the impending problem so as not to draw unwanted attention. Your body's homeostasis is deteriorating faster than you can manage it. Or, to be more accurate, the ability’s strength must be advancing over time. Any half-decent Nen user should be capable of controlling their body temperature, respiratory rate, blood pressure, and heart rate, or else your aura suffers. You’ll have to pick your poison here. If you focus mostly on your hands, you should be able to stop the shaking for a time. Consequently, that’ll leave your fever unchecked. 

You need to get this over with quickly. 

After putting on surgical gloves and a mask, you situate yourself next to Feitan. 

“Planning operation?” He asks, amusement in his voice. 

“This is far from a sterile environment. I’m taking the necessary precautions to prevent an infection,” you soak a gauze pad in saline solution then dab it against his wound. You’re glad the mask is covering half your face, since you’re unable to stop yourself from frowning. Beating yourself up over your past mistakes won’t do any good, yet you can’t help feeling mildly disappointed seeing your botched work up close. Who knows when you’ll get an opportunity like that again? 

You’re about to wrap it in a bandage when Feitan speaks up again. “Need stitches?” 

Your fingers twitch despite yourself. He’s intentionally trying to rile you up. You won’t let him. 

“... No.” 

He snickers, his eyebrows rising, adding to his air of condescension. “Why?”

“It’s too shallow of a cut.”

“Heh.” 

What a bastard. You momentarily consider the merits of stabbing him with one of the needles in the kit. The temporary satisfaction wouldn’t be worth the trouble it’d cause you later on, you decide. You’ve endured several torments from Feitan up until this point without ever acknowledging his efforts. Truthfully, you don’t understand what exactly it is Feitan wants from you. Chrollo is easier to understand in that one aspect. Your (former?) boss wants your relationship to return to what it was before — he said so outright using words sweet enough to make your teeth ache. 

Feitan has been far less forthcoming with his motivations. He barely talks to you aside from scathing remarks, doesn’t sleep in the same room as you and Chrollo, and frequently goes missing for days at a time. All you have to go off of is the conversation he had with Chrollo the night you gave up your Hatsu in return for Ash’s safe passage. He said he was ‘interested’ in you. It was Chrollo he told this, so you know he wouldn’t lie. He couldn’t have been vaguer if he tried. 

Did he mean ‘interested’ sexually? Romantically? It’s no secret that Feitan is a sadist, but he’s never made passes at you. You don’t think he’d be the type to beat around the bush if he wanted something like that. You’ve caught him staring a few times yet always chalked it up to him thinking you’re about to pull a stunt. Then again, you’re entirely ignorant to whatever agreement Chrollo and Feitan have over you. 

Outwardly, it looks the same as it’s always been. Chrollo gives orders and Feitan obeys them. 

So why is it that your instinct whispers there’s far more to the dynamic than Feitan being an uninterested third party? 

You secure a bandage around his forearm then turn away from him and Chrollo. It’d be nice if enduring the humiliation of tending to the subpar wound you inflicted is your entire punishment, but you somehow doubt that. You know your body well and your limits even better, loathe as you are to admit you have any. Exhaustion is nipping at your heels while the night is still young. The thought of lying down, even if it’s just for a few hours, sounds divine. 

“I’m finished,” you tell Feitan, sensing his eyes on your back while you throw the mask and gloves away. “Was there anything else you needed?” 

“Your hands. Show me.”

You stop turning the faucet on to spare him a glance over your shoulder. “May I ask why?” 

“You can. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” 

Your eyes flicker to Chrollo next, who has remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout this interaction. The closed-mouth smile he’s giving you promises nothing good. He knows you’re hiding something — they both know you are. They’re worse than sharks smelling blood in the water. You’ve been delaying the inevitable to the best of your abilities, but this game of cat-and-mouse can’t last forever.

Resigning yourself to your fate, you take a step forward, only for a bout of lightheadedness to come crashing down. You’re forced to grab the kitchen counter to steady yourself, the granite splintering beneath the intensity of your grip, crumbling to the ground in a noisy cascade. You swear you’re seeing double when you stare down at the ground, your heart rate accelerating and breathing turning erratic. Deep breaths are taken in an attempt to steady yourself.

Immediately, there’s a presence by your side, then a delightfully cold touch against your forehead. You try not to lean into it. 

“Burning up,” Feitan remarks. He moves his hand back, and you almost keen at the loss, a factor that is as mortifying as it is perplexing. You tell yourself it’s because your body wants to regain proper equilibrium by cooling itself off. There can be no other explanation. You’re coming down with a fever, you’ll rest, and this will be over. Simple as that. 

Chrollo makes his way over to you like he has all the time in the world, his countenance giving nothing away. “He was telling the truth, then?” 

“Guess so.” 

“What… what are you both talking about?” You inquire, all the while trying and failing to push yourself up. You, a person capable of wielding an ax that weighs 4,000 pounds with ease, can’t even stand up straight. It’s a miracle your legs haven’t given out beneath you yet. 

“Feitan has been interrogating the man in the basement,” Chrollo reaches into his back pocket to grab something, a napkin, by the looks of it. He holds it up at your eye level. You blink, having to strain so that the word scribbled on it can come into focus. The messy handwriting must belong to Feitan. “I wanted to wait and see it for myself before believing him.” 

You almost get sick when the word finally registers. 

Aphrodisiac.

Feitan must’ve scribbled this note down and handed it to Chrollo. You weren’t in a good position to be perceptive of your surroundings, otherwise, you would’ve surely noticed. 

Chrollo reaches out for you, his fingers settling beneath your chin and lifting it. Your eyelids flutter shut, the simple skin-to-skin contact exhilarating, made even better when his thumb brushes over your lower lip. He gives a content hum over your willingness to accept his touch for the first time in several months. It’s a surreal sensation — how your senses can be both heightened and capable of blocking out so much — your brain is unwilling to register anything aside from the men before you. You’re backed against the now broken countertop when Chrollo advances impossibly closer, his chest pressing against yours. 

“You must’ve been suppressing it through sheer willpower all this time. I’m impressed,” he sounds like it too. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, dear, but this won’t be going away on its own.”

Chrollo’s lips caress the shell of your ear, and his hands start creeping down your body while he speaks. “You need only say the word and we’ll satisfy you. Otherwise, it’ll progress to the point it’s unbearable. I don’t exactly enjoy watching you suffer, whether you believe me or not. So be a dear and—” 

However he intended to end that sentence will forever remain a mystery. It stokes something inside you, rekindling the dying embers of your pride. Bloodlust radiates off you in tangible waves, cracking the glass of a nearby window. The miasma surrounding you is thick and potent. Harnessing the remnants of your strength, you press your hands to Chrollo’s chest, shoving him away with all your might. He stumbles back yet quickly steadies himself. 

“Do not touch me,” you seethe, the words more of a growl than anything. 

Aura envelops Feitan, who must be anticipating further resistance. The flow stops as soon as it begins when Chrollo puts a hand up to stop him. Silence loudly resounds in the tight quarters you’re forced to share with them. You feel akin to a cornered cat, hackles raised and teeth bared. There’s nothing practical you can do — it’s maddening to acknowledge that. You’re entirely at their mercy. 

And you know neither of them have any to give. 

Chrollo sighs, straightening the wrinkles on his shirt your outburst caused. “You’re making this needlessly difficult for yourself, [First].” 

“Just… knock me unconscious until it subsides, or something,” you grit out through clenched teeth. The ghosts of Feitan’s touch against your forehead and Chrollo’s fingers upon your lips haunt you. It’s as if all levels of higher thinking ceased the second they came into contact with you. “I can’t… I refuse…!” 

“Stubborn woman. Not normally this stupid,” Feitan clicks his tongue. “It’s Nen. Doesn’t work like that.” 

You grip your head with your hands. It hurts. It’s hot. Lascivious need wraps its tendrils around you and squeezes. Your body is no longer heeding the orders of your mind. You can smell Chrollo’s cologne — sandalwood, amber — as well as the metallic scent of blood clinging to Feitan. You shouldn’t have pushed him away. You should’ve let him touch you, please you, satiate this voracious appetite that won’t go away on its own. It’s been so long, far too long. He said it wouldn’t go away on its own, didn’t he? How much longer can you fight it off? 

More importantly, do you even want to fight anymore? 

You take an unsteady step forward, your head hanging long, allowing for a shadow to fall over your eyes. Your hand reaches for Chrollo’s belt yet never meets its destination. An undignified noise leaves your lips as you’re scooped up, your cheeks burning and eyes shooting wide open. Your instinct is to struggle, but when you feel a hand press beneath your thighs to steady you, your brain turns to mush. The touch isn’t anything special, though your body acts like it is. You can feel an unnatural amount of wetness staining your panties. Consequently, you rub your thighs together, hoping to alleviate some of the desperate need for friction. 

A deep, dark chuckle reverberates in Chrollo’s chest. “She’s precious, isn’t she, Fei?” 

Feitan doesn’t confirm or deny, though you can feel his eyes boring into you. “Not mad at her?” 

“That can wait for later. For now, though…” he trails off, his voice lowering in pitch and volume. “Aren’t you interested in savoring her to the fullest?” 

You don’t remember the trip to the bedroom. 

There’s the faint sound of rushed footsteps, creaky door hinges groaning, shoes being thrown aside, and the rustling of fabric. Your heartbeat rises to a crescendo when you’re placed on the bed, anticipation gnawing at you. The room is dripping with tension and a sick part of yourself relishes in it. You prop yourself up on your elbows only to find yourself getting pushed not so gently back down. 

Feitan is leering at you from above, his eyes like that of a madman. 

Not a word is uttered as you glare back up at him. Without his cowl, you can see every inch of his countenance, the cruel curve of his lips, and the upward incline of his eyebrows. There’s no time to dwell on the negative emotions such a feral stare instills, for you register movement coming from behind. Familiar toned arms wrap around your torso. Chrollo pulls you onto his lap, your back flush against his broad chest. His lips lovingly caress the shell of your ear, grazing the sensitive flesh with his teeth. 

“Are you ashamed, [First]?” He taunts, his voice taking on a husky tinge. “A woman of your status offering herself over so willingly to two depraved men… I can’t fathom how bruised your ego must be.” 

This compromising position must do something for him. You feel his hardened length poking at your ass, betraying his arousal. 

“Neither of you are capable of harming my ego.” 

You exhale sharply when he tugs your head back by your hair. 

“Casuistry is unbecoming of you, dear.” 

“Is that what that was…?” You trail off, trying not to show how good it feels when Chrollo latches his lips to your neck. “Are you so caught up in your own delusions that you fail to recognize this is about satisfying a biological function, not an expression of passion?” 

You’re grateful for your high pain tolerance when Chrollo sinks his teeth into your skin, hard enough to leave a mark for the days that’ll follow. He lavishes his tongue against it afterward, his chest vibrating from a quiet chuckle. 

“Talks too much,” Feitan grumbles. For a moment, you wonder if he's referring to you or Chrollo. “Gag?” 

“Unnecessary. We wouldn’t want to miss out on the sounds she’s going to make, would we?” 

This line of reasoning seems to satisfy Feitan. Unlike Chrollo, who treats undressing you as if it were a form of foreplay itself, Feitan is rough with your clothes. You’d almost think they offended him somehow. You wince at the sound of ripping. The black fabric covering your torso flutters to the side, revealing the swell of your cleavage. Perspiration clings to you in a thin sheen from your body’s meager attempts to cool down. You swear you hear Feitan’s breath shudder when his sallow fingers descend on your chest. 

He’s far from gentle with his exploration of the soft flesh. He kneads and pulls, giving little heed to what you find pleasurable. Then his pointer finger and thumb find your nipple, visible through your nude-colored bra. A special sadistic delight is taken in twisting the nub and observing the subsequent parting of your lips in a high-pitched gasp. 

“... Cute,” he comments. Your fingers twitch, indignation spurring you on to try and strike him, a rebellion Chrollo ends prematurely by holding your dominant arm in place. He uses enough pressure that you wouldn’t be surprised if the skin bruises in the shape of his hand. 

“Now now, there’s no need to resort to violence, is there?” Chrollo’s voice is akin to nails on a chalkboard. The irony of a mass-murdering thief preaching this platitude isn’t lost on you. 

Feitan quirks up an eyebrow when you jut your head to the side, your teeth clenching and cheeks burning. Damn them both. 

“Ego hurt yet?” Feitan croons. 

You recenter yourself to the best of your abilities, considering every cell in your body is screaming for a return to primal instinct. They’re both dead wrong if they think you’re going to roll over and take everything they dish out. Perhaps it’ll spell more trouble for you further down the line, but the logical side of your brain which normally dominates is waning. You wrench yourself forward with enough force that Chrollo has to lessen his grip on your arm, lest he dislocate it. Maybe there is some truth behind his earlier claim that he ‘doesn’t enjoy watching you suffer’, or maybe the lack of bloodlust clues him in that you aren’t up to anything nefarious. 

Whatever the case, this momentum and easing up of your restraints grants the freedom to do what you plan next. Your hands, marred with dark lines along the veins from Corruption’s improper usage many years prior, hold Feitan’s face in place. His shock is evident by the lack of movement on his part when your lips press against his. Your clammy skin derives satisfaction from how unnaturally cold his body is. 

This is the closest thing you’ve gotten to relieving the gnawing need that’s been threatening to devour you from the inside out. 

In the millisecond it takes for him to comprehend what’s happening, he secures back what little power you temporarily held over him. His kiss is rough, demanding, and clearly inexperienced. You’re too far gone to care. You make a show of kissing him with every ounce of languid affection you once bestowed upon the man behind you, your head tilting to the side and back arching to press further into him. Something between a groan and a grunt leaves Feitan when your hand seeks out his clothed length, palming at it until it fully hardens. 

This temporary rebalancing of power mixed with finally feeding the carnal hunger within you is invigorating, sending adrenaline through your veins. Feitan nips at your lower lip and you grant him access to your mouth. His tongue seeks out yours in a dance you never thought you’d willingly participate in. The world is fuzzy, an unintelligible string of blurred shapes and colors you can’t make any sense of. All that registers to you is an all-encompassing desire to succumb to lust’s bittersweet embrace. 

Is this what it’s like to be drunk? Stuck in a pleasant haze where the slightest stimulation feels far better than it should, potential consequences be damned?

When you part for air, a thin trail of saliva connects you. 

“Still wish to gag me?” You goad, unwilling to resist making a jab at his expense. He enjoyed that far too much for you not to sneak in a snide comment.

Feitan smirks. “Not with rag.” 

He then looks to Chrollo, as if silently asking permission for something. Evidently, he must receive it, for the rest of your outfit is torn from your person. What would’ve irritated you in any other circumstance comes as an immense relief now. The heat enveloping you is stupefying. Cognition is overshadowed by a primal need you never could’ve thought yourself capable of. You’ll do anything to offset this unique torture, the likes of which you’ve never been forced to endure.

You’re left in nothing but your sheer black tights and bra, your chest heaving in a desperate bid to get enough oxygen. Sweat trickles down your temple. 

Every inch of your body is so unusually sensitive, as if your nerve endings have multiplied. The science behind whatever the Manipulator’s ability did intrigues you. Did it decrease activity in your prefrontal cortex, making long-term planning near impossible? Excite the endocrine system in a way that encourages sexual arousal? Trick your brain into activating fight or flight if you’re not being stimulated? 

The relationship between science and Nen has always fascinated you. Regrettably, you’re not in the headspace to conduct research. It’s growing increasingly difficult to form so much as a coherent thought.

Behind you, Chrollo undoes the clasp of your bra, revealing your chest in its entirety to both men. If there was ever any doubt that Feitan’s interest in you is lascivious in nature, his current expression dispels it. He looks at you like one would a piece of tantalizing meat. You never would’ve thought Feitan was sexually attracted to you by the indifferent air he normally held. In retrospect, you wonder if that was his way of trying to keep his impulses under control until the timing was right. 

“Lift yourself up for me, dear,” Chrollo uses such gentle words, but his tone tells you this is an order. You do as he requests. From this angle, he’s able to help pull your tights down by the waistband. It’s a slow, tedious process; he acts as if he has all the time in the world, inching the delicate fabric down to reveal your thighs. You shiver when his fingernails scrape at your skin. It takes everything you have to hold back a sinful moan at the teasing contact. 

“I hadn’t realized tights were so sacred to you,” you say. He had no objections when Feitan tore at the rest of your custom-tailored outfit. 

You can hear the smile on his face when he replies, “There’s only this one pair, whereas we have other clothes for you. It’d be a shame to not see you in something that complements your features so well.” 

“How very considerate.” 

Feitan helps pull it off once it gets to your knees, using a degree of care you thought him incapable of. It must be because his boss willed the action. He spreads your legs without any resistance, his eyes fixating on your covered core. Evidence of your arousal seeps through. It’s a sight that causes Feitan to mutter something in his language that you suspect to be an expletive.

A silver streak soars through your vision. You go motionless, allowing Chrollo to slice through your panties with his Ben’s Knife. 

You glare at him from the corner of your eye. “Are you trying to kill me? What strange paraphilias you’ve developed since we’ve last been intimate.” 

“I was confident in your ability to stay still,” Chrollo’s fingers linger right above your clit, refusing to touch the one place you begrudgingly desire him most. “Besides, we both know a little poison wouldn’t put your life in serious danger. Give yourself more credit, sweetheart.” 

The audacity of this man is astounding. 

Chrollo spreads your folds for Feitan’s viewing pleasure. 

“Isn’t she just lovely?” Chrollo practically purrs, his baritone voice causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin, despite the internal heat afflicting you. “You can touch her, Fei. She won’t bite.” 

It’s an invitation he can’t turn down. 

Without warning, two fingers are thrust inside you. You tense at the unexpected intrusion and have to tell your muscles to relax. Fortunately, there’s enough natural lubrication that it doesn’t hurt as bad as it could’ve. You suppose it should come as no surprise that the man with an affinity for torture isn’t tender in bed. He cackles at your visceral reaction, but you have no chance to retaliate, for he pulls his fingers back out and slams them back in. Dull discomfort quickly transitions to a deep, satisfying feeling. Chrollo further enforces it by finally rubbing precise circles just the way you like on your clit. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and lull your head to the side. Digging deep into the recesses of your hazy mind, you try to block out who exactly is touching you like this, wanting to focus on the pleasure and nothing else. 

Chrollo must have a rough idea of what you’re trying to do. He sighs, as if disappointed, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to face downward. 

“Open your eyes, or we’ll stop,” he whispers. You bite down on your lower lip hard enough to almost bleed. “Oh, [First]. I know very well that you aren’t a prude. Come now. Don’t make me ask again.” 

Your eyelashes flutter open like butterfly wings. From the position he’s holding your head, you have nowhere to look but at Feitan’s fingers slipping in and out of you, a lewd sight that makes you whimper. Maybe you’ll berate yourself for your weakness when you’re in a lucid mindset. For now, however, you’re starting to lift your hips to meet his relentless assault. You feel no better than a vacuous animal, yet embarrassment is the furthest thing on your mind. The word has been wiped clean from your lexicon. 

With how sensitive your body is in this state, it doesn’t take long for that knot in your stomach to tighten. You’re panting, your head is thrown back, taking in each wave of overwhelming stimuli. Chrollo’s lips caressing your neck’s pulse, the friction on your clit, and Feitan’s fingers exploring your insides. It’s too much. The air is heady with the scent of sex, Chrollo’s cologne, and the metallic blood splattered on Feitan. 

You’re so close, your walls clenching and the muscles in your thighs going taut— 

—When they both abruptly stop. 

Breathlessly, you murmur ‘wretched sadists’ in your native tongue.

“Him more so than me,” Chrollo replies. In your frustration, you forgot he was making good progress in learning your country’s language. Soon you won’t even have that to keep for yourself. He’ll have invaded every inch of your life and claimed it for himself. 

Feitan brings his slick-covered pointer and middle finger close to your face. He parts them, observing the string of your arousal it forms with an amused expression. 

“Needy thing,” he snickers. 

He takes his fingers into his mouth, then gives a low hum, apparently enjoying your taste. When the digits slide back out, they’re coated in both his saliva and your essence. You grimace when he places them on your closed lips next, your obsession with hygiene temporarily triumphing over the aphrodisiac’s effects. Feitan frequently poked fun at how you wiped away blood and viscera should any have gotten on your person after a kill. You’ve never been partial to uncleanliness, although you could deal with it just fine when necessary. 

Knowing Feitan, he’s likely getting off on your discomfort. 

“Open,” he demands. You do with some reluctance, tasting yourself on your tongue. Your unusual obedience seems to please him. “Good girl.” 

You narrow your eyes into slits then, warmth flooding your face. He’s the last person you’d ever want to give you a compliment like that. Condescension is an area that both Chrollo and Feitan excel in. Chrollo’s is often more subtle, taking a moment’s consideration to fully comprehend, whereas Feitan is cruelly blunt. You can’t decide which is worse. 

The bed dips as Chrollo readjusts himself. Feitan moves to the side, giving Chrollo plenty of room to do whatever he wants with you next. Your former boss unbuttons his shirt and tosses it aside. His hands go to your shoulders, pushing in a silent communication for you to lay back. If it weren’t for the unfair condition you’re currently plagued with, you would’ve had some choice words at the ready. Especially when he strokes your cheekbone with the back of his knuckles, softly, as a lover would. You internally curse at how your traitorous body leans into his touch. 

The distinct sound of Chrollo undoing his belt catches your attention. 

After ridding himself of his remaining clothes, he lifts your left leg over his shoulder, an enigmatic gleam in his gray eyes. You feel his tip rub teasingly over your folds, gathering your abundant wetness. Proving to you just how desperately your body wants this — wants him. He’s trying to make a point. You imagine you must be quite the sight to him, all disheveled like this. Forcefully dragged out from your icy shell of propriety. Your hair which is normally styled in an updo is loose and forming twirls against the bed, your chest is rising and falling erratically, and your aura is a mess. 

In this moment, you’ve essentially been reduced to a civilian. 

You both let out content noises when he enters you. Your walls convulse around him, taking him in with ease, despite how long it’s been since you’ve had sex. It’s as if your body is telling you that it remembers him, no matter how hard you try to forget. In the dark of night, you sometimes wonder if Chrollo knows you better than you know yourself. He’s committed every little nuance about you to memory. Your preferences, likes and dislikes; he’s showcasing his mastery over you by providing the pleasure only he can. 

You shudder when he fully sheathes himself inside you. It makes the aphrodisiac swallowing you whole slightly more bearable, quelling the fire just enough that you no longer feel you’re being burned. 

Feitan lazily jerks himself off at your indecent expressions, breathing heavily as he pumps his reddened cock up and down. 

“You’re a cruel woman, depriving me of this for so long,” Chrollo takes both your wrists in one hand and pins them above you. “I’ve longed for your body terribly, love. It belongs here — underneath me.” 

By the way your face contorts, he must be able to tell that he won’t like whatever your reply will be, so he sets out to steal the air from your lungs. An undignified whimper leaves your lips at the rough pace he establishes from the onset. You’d almost think it was him under the influence of the aphrodisiac and not you. There’s no gradual, sensual buildup, just skin slapping against skin as he fucks you without mercy. You want to grab ahold of something, anything to steady yourself in the unforgiving onslaught of ecstasy, but his grip on you is unrelenting. Your limbs feel like jello, incapable of displaying your usual strength to break free from his hold. 

Sensing your intentions, as he almost always does, he coos, “If you want something, then be a dear and beg.” 

There’s a darkness in his voice that’s never been directed at you before. An underlying desperation. Chrollo craves you, longs for you, and you’ve denied him his greatest desire. He has no right to sigh and brood over your refusal to go back to how things were, before he betrayed your trust. You let him into your world. Granted him access to parts of yourself that have never seen the light of day, tentatively opened your heart bit by bit. 

Only that alone couldn’t satisfy him. He needed more than your heart. Your mind, your soul, your body; your very being. And you weren’t willing to give him that. Not then, not now, not ever. So you purse your lips, glaring up at him with all the defiance you can muster in this weakened state. 

He chuckles at the ferocity in your eyes, though it’s a humorless sound. Bitter, almost. 

“My stubborn girl,” Chrollo whispers in your native tongue. “Try as you might, you’ll never be rid of me. I won’t even let you go in death.” 

“I’ll— mm— have to test that theory.” 

Something passes over his face then. Is it exasperation? Dismay? Hurt? 

“Go ahead then,” he says. You’ve never seen this look in his eyes. “Do your worst.” 

An odd sensation sweeps over you then. You furrow your eyebrows together, trying to place it, all the while Chrollo increases his speed. This is a phenomenon you’ve experienced and recently at that. It’s akin to puzzle pieces fitting together, everything falling back into its proper place. Then it hits you, the realization causing your eyes to widen and your breath to catch in your throat. 

This bastard just returned your Hatsu. 

You try (and fail) to lift your head. You can barely think straight, much less properly harness your mess of an aura. Being condemned to an eternity of hunger and thirst with food and drink receding from your reach would be preferable to this. It’s wicked; it’s Chrollo making good on his surname. His cock twitches inside you at your futile struggle. He hits a spot in you that makes you keen, you ruined orgasm from earlier growing closer and closer. 

“What are you waiting for?” Chrollo challenges in between soft pants. “Have I rendered one of your country’s best fighters incapable of making a single strike? Hm?” 

“That isn’t—” your own mewl cuts you off, “This is… not fair…!"

He shakes the hair covering his eyes so nothing can obstruct his current view. “I can’t be, darling. Not with you.” 

If you didn’t know any better, you might think he sounds apologetic. 

This is quickly disproven when his fingers find your clit and rub it just right. 

When you come, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. Your back arches into him, your lips part in a silent scream, and you manage to exert enough strength to free your hands from Chrollo’s grasp. You scratch your fingernails down his back, leaving angry red streaks in your wake. Chrollo curses under his breath in a rare instance, given his proclivity for formal speech. Your walls squeeze down on him like a vice. 

His hips stutter and his grip on you becomes bruising. He nuzzles his nose into your neck, quietly moaning your name as if you were a deity; and he, your most devout follower. 

Warmth floods your insides not long after, a seemingly endless stream of cum painting your walls white. Chrollo holds you in place, absentmindedly rubbing circles into the skin he just bruised, a satisfied smile on his lips. You feel him go soft inside you, yet he still makes no sign of pulling out. To add insult to injury, your Hatsu slips away like sand between your fingers, back into his wrongful possession.

Then thick ropes spurt across your tits, accompanied by something like a growl from Feitan. Seeing you come undone must’ve pushed him over the edge. He pumps himself to completion while you struggle to make sense of what just happened. What you just did. 

The aphrodisiac is still active in your system, you can feel it clouding your senses and diluting your judgment. However, it’s far less potent than it was earlier. At its peak, it threatened to fray your sanity. What a dreadful ability. You regret killing the one who used it on you. Had he still been breathing, you would’ve flayed him alive for doing this to you. 

Feitan must not be the pillow talk type. He’s quick to redress, slinking out of the room after giving you an additional once over. He smirks and then leaves you to the whims of his boss. 

Chrollo places the back of his hand against your forehead. “Your fever’s gone down.” 

You avert your eyes and he tilts his head. 

“Don’t tell me you’re upset,” he comments, while finally pulling out. You feel his release seeping out in thick globs. “You would’ve been far worse off had we not intervened. Our guest in the basement can attest to that.” 

When you stay stubbornly silent, he sighs your name. “I know your vocal cords are working just fine. Whatever it is you wish to say, say it.” 

Your head snaps back so you can properly stare him in the eye. There’s a trembling of your lower lip that takes him aback, although he smooths his expression to one of indifference almost immediately. You aren’t the crying type. If anything, he’s probably cried more than you have in the time you’ve known him. He goes to wipe at your lash line, but you smack his hand away. The hit barely has any force behind it. Unexpectedly, he stills, his gaze boring down. 

“I can’t believe I actually l—” you cut yourself off with a shake of your head. You’re exhausted, not thinking straight, and you probably won’t be able to move without help. Whatever lapse in judgment that almost caused you to admit an intimately held secret closes as soon as it opens. 

Chrollo studies you. Whatever he feels then is a mystery, though you hope it cut him deep. Through flesh and sinew, down to the bone. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he eventually says. “I know you hate feeling dirty.” 

When he lifts you up, careful not to aggravate the bruise on your person, you mull over a single question. 

Did he change the subject for your sake, or for his? 

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part twenty-seven

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six

-

Sephiroth can't stand up. It's kind of embarrassing. Actually, forget that - it's really embarrassing! Even when sitting down he feels all wobbly and unsteady!

After the hyperfocus mode passed, it all just sorta crashed down on him.

He's barely managed to wrangle his fluctuating Qi back under control, but the wild surges, stops and starts and the awful flare-ups before have left him feeling like jello in human form. He's gone through what feels like an earthquake, a volcanic eruption, but from the inside - and then he strained to keep at all in! Twisted himself into a pretzel in order to teach, spraining his everything in the progress! Now his veins are freshly scorched, his flesh feels tenderised, and he can feel his bones. It is incredibly unsettling to be so aware of your bones!

For such a minor Qi-deviation it's really too much. Who told Sephiroth to have this much Qi - and also this many muscles! He's strained all of them!

And now he can't stand up. Well, not without swaying and stumbling and probably falling over himself like an idiot, anyway. Which makes it the same thing. His cute disciples - that is, the other SOLDIER members are still watching him. After what he put them through in his delirium, he can't show such an embarrassing face as to get up only to fall flat on his face!

He can hear them now, murmuring quietly amongst themselves in the hall outside.

"... Like, breathing, I think? And I think you're not supposed to think about anything…"

"How can you not think about anything?"

"... Been quiet for a while. No word from the director either…"

"... Think there's still chocolate bars left in the vending machine?"

Ooh, chocolate. Sephiroth could kill for a chocolate bar right now. He really should've thought about that before! Semi-modern world with inexplicably a lot of the same stuff as Earth has - he really should've realised that might include modern style sweets! And, damn, he's missed chocolate so much, back in PIDW. He should get chocolate, as a treat. He deserves it!

But he can't get up. Plus, he destroyed the place! How can he show his face outside after he destroyed the whole room? It's not like he can explain himself - this world doesn't even know what Qi-deviation is! On the outside it seemed just like he went crazy! Which might be in character for Sephiroth, but - still!

So here he is, a third hour in running, cultivating and meditating with no better way to solve this issue. Soon, something would happen to force his hand, or this would go on forever, and eventually he'd die. There's no other recourse.

At least he'd mostly managed to repair the damage done to his meridians. His poor dantians, flooded with chaotic Qi just when he got them to open up, took a hit - but hey, at least there's no golden core there to damage!

Yeah, that just… makes him sadder, really.

Sephiroth draws a slow breath and teases another snag in his system to loosen up - smoothing another scarred vein until it relaxes. He should go back to physical cultivation, it worked so beautifully for Sephiroth's system - but alas… he can't stand up.

Ah, he's really doomed.

"Heads up - elevator."

"Oh, shit, it's Hewley."

"Here we go…"

Sephiroth peeks one eye open, but the SOLDIERs by the door have gone quiet, and the ones further down the hall are too far away for him to hear - especially since it sounds like they're whispering out there. Probably explaining the situation to Angeal.

Ahhh! It's a pity he didn't bust a wall open in his deviated craze - he could've used it to escape! He might be about fifty floors above the ground level, but Sephiroth is supposed to know how to fly, right?! He could make it! He might even grow some wings along the way! It's been known to happen! Somewhere!

Angeal appears by the doorway, taking a moment to soak in all the destruction, and Sephiroth does his best not to look like he wants to curl up and die in shame. That resolution gets harder as Angeal walks over to crouch down in front of him.

Oh no, his face. I'm not angry, just disappointed much?! 

"Sephiroth," Angeal says gently. "Are you alright?"

Oh, come on, Angeal-bro! The disciples other SOLDIERs are right there! What is he supposed to say, huh?

Sephiroth exhales slowly and tries to think what Sephiroth should say in this situation. He destroyed the training room, busted up all the cameras and everything. Destruction of company property! There's probably going to be consequences for that, huh?

"What's the…?" Sephiroth starts and then winces at his voice. His throat is so dry it stings. Ouch.

Angeal relaxes a little. "They want you outta here, asap. There's a transport waiting. I'm supposed to deliver you to it."

… huh? That's, um. He has no idea! Is he being kicked out? He's Sephiroth - isn't he, like, the poster boy for Shinra's military might and stuff?

Angeal, clearly seeing his confusion, elaborates. "You're reassigned to Wutai, effective immediately."

… Oh. Great. "And if I don't feel like going anywhere?"

Angeal sighs. "I don't know. Nothing good. It's not like I can really force you to do anything, Sephiroth, but I'd prefer it if you came willingly."

Hah, jokes on your, bro, Sephiroth can't actually do shit right now!

… But he can't really stay here. And hell, being sent to a war front at least saves him from having to face any of this just yet! Maybe never. It's a corporate dystopia, and he's the poster boy - maybe Shinra will do him a favour and sweep this all under the rug! They did with Nibelheim.

And Wutai is the closest thing to home…

"... Alright," Sephiroth says. "But you're probably going to have to drag me."

"What? No, Sephiroth, you can just walk, it's alright -"

"Angeal, I -" just had a Qi-deviation and my system feels all outta whack, but that's not a thing and he's Sephiroth - can't admit weakness! "Just - give me a hand."

Angeal blinks and then goes, "Oh!" as Sephiroth visibly wavers, trying to get up. "Oh, a delayed reaction? Right, here -"

Sephiroth really has to be dragged up, like some drunk guy. And even then his knees almost give up! So embarrassing! His cute disciples the other SOLDIERs are watching!

Oh, urg, the nausea…

"If I throw up on you, it's nothing personal," Sephiroth groans, closing his eyes, both to fight back the vertigo and so that he doesn't have to see the other SOLDIERs reaction. No one is laughing at him, at least.

And then Angeal laughs at him. Rude! The man sounds relieved, though, as he grabs him firmly by the elbow, propping him up. "I promise I won't hold it against you."

Sephiroth sighs, humiliated. "Thanks," he mutters and then, plaintively asks, "Do they have chocolate in Wutai?"

"Chocolate?"

"I could really go for a chocolate bar right now."

"Oh, I bet," Angeal says, sounding a little amused now. "I don't know about Wutai, but I'm sure we can get you some chocolate somewhere," he promises. "Are you ready to go?"

No. "Yeah, let's go."

-

Is it even SY if he doesn't need to be carried once in a while?

[david-blackthorn]

I havnt read those books in the shadowhunter chronicles yet, what are your favorite things about them? (Im curious whether I should read them or not since I have such a big tbr already)

Oh maaan you're in for a ride

I have no idea which series in the Shadowhunter Universe you meant exactly but i'll start with my fav

Part I:

The Dark Artifices:

Do you ever feel like your soul needs a good mix of romantic pining, chaotic battles, and emotional devastation? The Dark Artifices is calling your name.

But seriously if you love stories that combine heart-pounding action, deep family bonds, and characters so real you’ll find yourself thinking about them long after you've finished the books? This is the series for you!

This series follows a family of Shadowhunters in sunny Los Angeles (yes, there are beaches AND demon fights) as they deal with forbidden love, ancient laws that make no sense, and plot twists that will leave you staring at the ceiling at 3 AM like: what just happened.

It’s got:

Two people who can’t be together because of reasons but have enough chemistry to destroy you.

A goofy warlock with more secrets than anyone is ready for.

A soft boy who paints and probably writes poetry but will absolutely murder you if you hurt his siblings and childhood friend.

A broody faerie loner who says “I work alone” but would probably die for his friends.

“I would die for my siblings, but also, they’re so annoying” energy.

Found-family dynamics that will have you texting your friends, “DO YOU SEE THIS?”

And, of course, the *painful but addictive* mix of love, loyalty, and chaos...

Enemies-to-lovers? No, wait—friends-to-lovers? Actually, it’s more like "reluctantly obsessed but too emotionally constipated to say it."

Three people staring dramatically at each other like ‘Is this polyamory or a REALLY complicated love triangle?

Characters who will make you scream, “JUST COMMUNICATE,” but you’ll love them anyway.

Enough family angst to fuel a therapy session for years.

A genius, autistic boy who solves mysteries but can’t solve the mystery of his own feelings

Main characters? Let’s just say there’s a parabatai bond that’s more complicated than your high school crush.

The plot? Fast-paced, full of betrayal, and packed with vicious fight scenes.

The family? Everything is fine...except when it’s not.

The romance? You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll probably scream and definitely ship things that should not be shipped. :)

Basically a murder mystery, faerie politics, and the most relatable struggle of all: Trying to keep your family alive and well while the world is falling apart.

Fair warning: you’ll never emotionally recover (and you’ll love every second).

part II:

The Mortal Instruments:

If you’re looking for a fast-paced urban fantasy series full of adventure, humor, and heart, you need to pick up The Mortal Instruments.

It’s got everything: shadowy secrets, epic battles, forbidden love, and enough twists and turns to keep you hooked from start to finish. Plus, the friendships and family bonds will hit you right in the feels.

If you like:

Hot people with emotional trauma

Family dynamics so messy even you would say "y’all need therapy"

Enemies-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-allies-to-love(maybe) but make it *gay*

Bonus gay dads with actual functional communication (because someone has to balance the chaos)

A love triangle that's not technically a triangle, but don't worry, it'll still destroy your soul

If you do then babe, let me introduce you to The Mortal Instruments:

It’s like Twilight, but everyone fights better is hotter and has sarcasm set to ✨maximum damage✨.

You'll question the characters' life choices, then realize your own aren’t much better.

There’s an overachieving golden boy with a superiority complex who definitely Googles his own name but is secretly baby.

A girl who just wants to vibe and maybe not be surrounded by apocalypses, but alas.

A cinnamon roll nerd who says, “I don’t want to be here,” but somehow ends up saving the day every time.

And a guy who walks in like: "I’m too goth for this mess," but then adopts everyone and pays for dinner.

The Mortal Instruments is what happens when an ex fanfic writer starts a writing carrier and makes a book series: chaotic, emotional, weirdly self-aware, and packed with heart. Read it. Your inner emo kid will thank you.

Bonus:

The plot? Like Supernatural on speed.

The dialogue? Whedon-esque but with more sass per square inch.

The drama? Every fanfic writer wishes they wrote this level of ✨chaotic bisexual disaster energy✨.

If this sounds appealing, congratulations! This series was literally written for you.

part III:

The Infernal Devices:

The Infernal Devices by Cassandra Clare is an absolute gem of a series, blending romance, adventure, and a touch of Victorian-era steampunk. If you love books with unforgettable characters, heart-wrenching love triangles (in the best way), and a beautifully atmospheric setting, this is the series for you.

It’s full of witty banter, emotional depth, and a story that stays with you long after you turn the last page. Trust me—there’s no ‘right’ team to root for, but you’ll love every moment of trying to decide.

The plot? Wild.

The romance? Devastating.

The side characters? Hot, chaotic, and probably more interesting than the main ones in most other books you’ve read.

Let’s not forget:

The Victorian Aesthetic™ (it’s giving Pinterest board).

A robot army that would make Skynet say, “You okay, bro?”

Poetry recitals that feel like life-or-death declarations.

And more tragic backstories than a Shakespearean play.

It's got:

a steampunk version of London where demons and shadowhunters roam the cobblestone streets, and your biggest problem isn’t the fog, but the ✨existential dread✨.

There’s a protagonist who just wanted to read books but accidentally became the center of everyone’s emotional drama (relatable queen).

A golden retriever boy who’s so perfect it physically hurts and is slowly dying.

And a sad boy™️ who looks like he stepped straight out of a My Chemical Romance album, only with a reading obsession.

A love triangle where instead of fighting, the two love interests are like, ‘Hey, what if we all just loved each other?’

Friendships so deep they’ll make you scream, “WHY CAN’T THE WORLD LET THEM BE HAPPY?”

A heroine who’s like, ‘Do I choose the guy who might secretly hate himself more than anyone else alive, or the literal angel in human form?’ (Spoiler: she chooses both. Iconic.)

Brooding boys who quote poetry in life-or-death situations (because of course they do).

*A love triangle where instead of fighting, the two love interests are like, ‘Hey, what if we all just loved each other?’

Start with Clockwork Angel and get ready to laugh, cry, and ugly sob over Will, Jem, and Tessa. But be warned: this series will RUIN you in the most beautiful way possible.

I won't write a summary of The Last Hours since i haven't finished it yet sorry babes, but hope you liked these *mwa*

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hi, how about oblivious farmer? Like half the town is in love with them and they give them hints they don't see. The farmer treats them as good friends and says they want to be friends with them forever lol. It would also be nice to see them compete with each other a bit (Especially Alex vs Sam, because I like them the most. But my character probably won't get involved with anyone because I'm a little afraid of them having kids. Of course I like kids and would be nice having children, but I just i heard that in sdv they are creepy and people turn them into birds, i'm a bit worried…so story almost taken out of my character's life in stardew valley). Sorry for writing so much and have a nice day

Thank you so much for your ask, dear anon!

_________________________________________

Oh Yoba, bless the heart of the oblivious Farmer. And bless the patience of all the bachelors and bachelorettes who are trying their best to make almost obvious hints to win the interest of the young and chaotic Farmer of the whole Valley. But the real chaos began when word got out that Farmer so-and-so didn't mind dating both guys and ladies. That is, the bachelors began their competition for the Farmer's heart, not realizing that the bachelorettes were also determined to win the Farmer for themselves. Moreover, each was for himself, and one individual has to have as many as 11 potential competitors.

Some left the "game" as soon as it started, not believing that they would have any chance (Penny, Shane, Maru and Sebastian), some began to show "aggressive" friendship to Farmer, almost sticking to them like a faithful dog that would bark and cackle at the sight of outsiders (Alex, Abigail Sam), while others did not employ any tactics, considering sincerity and friendship to be the key to winning hearts (Harvey and Emily). Some decided to go for the sly, and with the help of not too damaging friendship and mental health gossip cleverly push the competitors away from Farmer and win themselves over (Haley). And it also happens that some people were so caught up in the battle for young Farmer's heart that they didn't notice how they fell in love with each other (Elliott/Leah).

The married and adult residents of the Valley looked on in total shock. Someone, namely the parents of some of the bachelors (those same Jodi, Robin and Caroline) also tried to hint to Farmer that their son/daughter really liked them. Someone (Lewis) tried to talk sense into the love-crazed youngsters by nagging them to stop their "loving advances". The children (Jas, Vincent, and Leo) looked on with incomprehension, believing it was "just another grown-up fad" that they, alas, could not yet comprehend. How the others (Marnie, Willy, and Gus) laughed heartily at the whole thing, and how George grumbled at home because all that "love cacophony" kept him from watching TV. Also laughing heartily, the old adventurers (Marlon and Gil) genuinely didn't understand how their young Guild member could calculate sophisticated tactics against dangerous monsters, but can't figure out when someone is flirting with them (they even made a bet who would win, just for fun). Rasmodius shook his head and asked the Farmer if they had knocked over the love potion.

What's funny is that in the end the Farmer's choice fell on Krobus. Because they're a sweet, kind, cool monster, and they smell like licorice. Who would have thought that happiness can be found in stinking sewer drains. Although, given that diamonds or gold ore are found in some garbage cans of the residents of Stardew Valley, there is nothing to be surprised at all...

PS: Also yeah, you're right. Sometime, children in this game looks like a nightmare fuel 😅 And the fact than you can rid of them by turning them into pigeon... Oy vey.

[happypotato48]

GMMTV 2024 PART 2 Unhinged Tangent Thoughts (Only The Queers Though)

Ossan’s Love Thailand รักนี้ให้ "นาย": oh here we go again for the third times. i'm still skeptical about it and Chakrit Yamnam definitely is not an ossan yet but... damnnnnn my inner slut for older men sense is tingling, i know gmmtv just gonna keep doing this boring BL idol pairs nonsense, but like can we get more older gays/age gap BLs? i haven't seen Chakrit in ages and that man still so damn fine! he and our honorary uncle earth could've been something that thai BL is currently lacking, a sloppy hotmess Daddies. but alas that will remain a dream for now.

The ​Heart Killers เขาจ้างให้ผมจีบนักฆ่า: i haven't watch the Eclipse yet and really didn't liked both Star In My Mind and Hidden Agenda and definitely never gonna watch Only Friend (seen all the sex scenes though.) i loved the chaotic energy the trailer giving and i'm always a sucker for black comedy (don't know if this show gonna be that but fingercrossed) when it done correctly. also this show better serve us so many leather bad boy looks. i may have not be completely sold on this show yet, but i'm horny for it.

สายรหัสเทวดา Perfect10 Liners: "Too Many Cooks repeated for several minutes" i'm going to be there for forcebook and juniormark but like wtf in frash glee hell is this, most of these mofos are pushing 30. let them be adults god danm it, i know that the target demographic for gmmtv is young adults and teenagers and that they really love/good at??? school settings. but come on let's our peter pans and wendies fly free. they're probably bored out of their fucking minds by now.

Us รักของเรา | GMMTV 2024 PART 2: i'm gonna be a good little homo and let's all the great wlws do all the talking for this show. i'm not keen on the sibling's lover stealing trope but hey as the great Lucille Bluth one said, good for her.

Thame - Po (เธม-โป้): HEART THAT SKIPS A BEAT: hehehe, Est is so pretty, ok i'm sold i'm easy like that. i was never into any boy bands as a teen, but there like a lot of former thai boy bands members that came out as gay in recent years so maybe i shouda had. anywhoo i probably not gonna mind the singing and dancing in this show since most of them going to be done by singers/dancers and not actors turned idols.

REVAMP THE UNDEAD STORY: i'm really not into serious vempires so this show is kinda meh for me. the goofy ones though those i'd have eat up. this one probably a pass for me.

แฟนที่ทันตแพทย์ส่วนใหญ่แนะนำ Sweet Tooth, Good Dentist: all my blorbos are here we get mark, baby ohm, poon, and หมอjim. ahhhhhhh!! i need it now. i also don't mind dentists like most people especially when they're good looking guys, those handsome doctors can put anything in my mouth😉

เพราะแฟนเก่าเปลี่ยนแปลงบ่อย The Ex-Morning: is this going to be our second coming BL? idk i never there for first one 😝this show either going to be a good meta commentary about the whole business that gone down or its head going be so up it own ass that will take several bottles of lube to get the head out to see the sunlight. we'll see.

[lildevildarlingsmiles]

Aaaannnnnndddd there! … The fusion of Dr. Facilier and Alastor!!!

•

Not gonna lie, this is definitely my favorite fusion so far! (Of course with the King Dice and Vox fusion being in second for favorite character fusions) Honestly it fits so perfectly too with them both having lived in New Orleans, Louisiana and both having a background with voodoo and making deals too! (Honestly think Dr. Facilier might’ve been inspiration for Alastor too now that I think about it)

Also, that’s my first time drawing Dr Facilier btw! So there’s a fun little bit for ya! :)

•

On another note… that other character up there with the fused character(s) is… well, me! Cuz I realize fusing these two characters together probably would make them more chaotic and dangerous perhaps! (As if Alastor wasn’t already dangerous and chaotic enough as it is with all the power he has! Lol but, I imagine he gets more dangerous and chaotic! Well, maybe, I suppose it depends since they’re both fairly similar… but I digress)… but yup, it’s me, just within the Hazbin Universe!

Heh! well they’re more of a Hazbin Oc lol (There’s gonna be some more about them in the upcoming few posts! So ya won’t be stuck in the dark about who they are and all that for too long! >:3)

Well that was a long tangent… but alas! There’s gonna be some more doodles and whatnot posted later on! So… as I always say…

☞Stay Tuned~! ☻︎

[4channerguy]

let loose / kunidazai

hayyyy so im just gonna repost this from my ao3 because ive been lacking in tumblr posts lol!! i hope you enjoy :3 xoxo (。・∀・)ノ i used this prompt when writing this: person B tossing snowballs at person A's window, not knowing the window is open and has no screen. also this is probably ooc but idgaf! and also kind of cringe but i also dgaf!

wc: 1057

warnings ✎ : boyfaliures (´･ω･`)  ➜ ┊ pairings: dazai x kunikida

𓂃 ☆ ⋮ doppo kunikida thinks of himself as a precise and sharp man.

he gets a full seven hours of sleep with no distractions, eating a full breakfast precisely at 6 AM, and then meditating. today was his free day off, and all he could think about was doing work. he’d offered fukuzawa to do more paperwork, to discard the load that was on the old man’s shoulders, but he at first declined saying, “you shouldn’t do too much. this day is possibly your only day off.” kunikida only shook his head, pulling his notebook and pointing at it. “i must follow my ideals, sir,” he said firmly. “i must retain the quota of doing seventy-two pages of work.” fukuzawa stared at him for a moment before sighing slightly. He opened his drawer to obtain a tuna can from his secret-stray-cat-stash (SSCS), because it was his free day too. The man didn’t even bother to protest against the golden-blond, and only wished him luck in his assignments.

now at his apartment, kunikida was prepared. he had a neat stack of paperwork with his laptop and of course, his notebook. he adjusted his glasses while gazing out the window. it had snowed last night, with inches of thick snow covering the pathway. since his desk faced the window, decided to open it to at least have some cool breeze in while he worked. it would give me some form of productivity, he thought while also fully opening the window screen as well. He sighed contently, opening his laptop and started typing.

unbeknownst to him, a troublemaker was walking by.

osamu dazai, who just had a typical failed suicide attempt, was mopeing around like a teenager on a winter break, tossing his empty can of tomato juice around his hands. he was thinking about what he wanted for dinner. canned crab probably. with cheap beer. ten cans of beer, maybe. he whistled to himself and then stopped.

he saw kunikida. But, alas, kunikida did not see him. dazai felt his heart skip slightly, seeing him with a furrowed brow working diligently. His glasses were perched on top of his head, which made dazai slightly swoon-

nah. dazai thought. maybe my body is just wired to tease and bother the shit out of him. typical dazai-centric thoughts. dazai crept up towards kunikida’s apartment and started to slowly form a snowball (with his bare hands of course, because he hoped to also catch hypothermia). “KUNIIIIIKIDAAAAAAA!” dazai yelled, which caused kunikida to snap up his head to see the perpetrator. unfortunately, the snowball hit him.

square in the face.

the snowball slowly dripped from his face and onto his desk. dazai only grinned.

“...”

“...surprise?”

kunikida slowly got out of his chair, grabbed his coat, scarf and gloves, put on his snow boots and walked calmly outside where dazai was waiting with a cheshire-like smirk. he took and breath and screamed, “DAAAAAAZAAAAAAIIIII!” he started forming half-assed snowballs and started pelting dazai with him. dazai, on the other hand, was laughing maniacally like a person high on drugs, with a grin reaching his ears. the snow-covered ground became a battle-ground, the two engaging into a chaotic snowball fight. kunikida’s annoyance gradually turned into amusement as he threw, turning uncharacteristically carefree. the two laughed like children on a playground, the chunks of snow glistening, making it look like a hallmark christmas card. to a passerby’s eye, it looked like two grown assed men who were on drugs.

as the snowball fight continued, it got more competitive. kunikida had the sudden urge to outwit dazai, and started to become strategic, hiding behind various things and even building a snow fort. He began a pattern of throwing each snowball while dazai skillfully dodged his attacks and snapped back with his own. in the midst of the laughter, they found a shared joy of letting go of their burdens (well, mostly on kunikida’s part) and embracing the lightness of the moment. kunkida’s mind shifted away from his ideals, and dazai from his future suicide attempts. they just became two individuals enjoying each other’s company in the purest form of fun. Eventually, fatigue caught up to them, leaving their laughter to only breathless chuckles, with fog coming out of their mouth. they stood facing each other covered in snow with comfortable silence. dazai’s grin turned into a warm smile, brushing snow out of his hair. kunikida did the same with his coat.

“you know, kunikida,” dazai began, still trying to get a chunk of snow on his coat. “it’s good to let loose sometimes.” kunikida nodded, cleaning his glasses. “yes, I suppose you’re right,” he paused and cleared his throat, “for once.” dazai only laughed and went towards him, making kunikida hesitant and step back a little. he brushed more snow out of kunikida’s face which caused him to slightly flush. “you’re always being so uptight,” dazai said softly. “you should loosen up more.”

“...well, um, i-”

“also I have a confession to make,” dazai said seriously, which caused kunikida to twitch, making his ears turn red. “since you were (assuming) doing work, could you do…mine?”

“what.”

“okay here me out, so, um, i was busy having-”

“a one night stand,” kunikida interrupted. “or a suicide attempt. or drinking beer and zoning out.”

“...that’s not true! i was fooling around-, no, wait, um, i mean MENTORING, atsushi for his job with kyoka-”

kunikida turned around and started walking away. “H..Hey! Wait, PLEASE KUNIKIDAAA,” dazai went on his knees. “PLEASEEE, I PROMISE I’LL-”

kunikida sighed and stared back at him, his expression unreadable. “i’ll do it for you. but you have to do something, for once.” dazai beamed and dusted off the snow on his pants. “thanks, kunikida.”

awkward silence.

“...i’ll have to get going.” kunikida said, breaking the silence. “hm? oh, yeah.” dazai replied, sort of red-faced. probably the cold. kunikida guessed. “see you tomorrow! we should do this again,” dazai grinned. kunikida nodded.

they both go to their respective apartments, both smiling (kunikida’s almost barely noticeable). kunikida arrived back, taking off his shoes and closing his window for any further cautions. he was about to start his work, but he decided to take a small break, because after all, maybe the troublemaker, osamu dazai, was right.

⋆｡𖦹 °✩ 06.09.23, do not repost or translate my content :^)

[natequarter]

Headcanons for the ghosts on taskmaster?

my best guess as to what they'd be like:

robin is good all round, in a very chaotic fashion. he's 50/50 on physical tasks, because he goes into everything headfirst without actually planning things out. however, this also allows him to bullshit his way through lateral thinking tasks. unfortunately he's probably one of those people who'd get through a task triumphantly thinking he's absolutely killed it and then they reveal that he completely forgot about one of the task's rules and gets no points. drives alex mad by completely ignoring him. greg would love him though

humphrey is great on lateral thinking tasks, and thinking outside the box is his strong suit. i reckon he'd be pretty good at the prize task, for the same reason, and any of the creative tasks. he could probably do pretty well on team tasks, too. his downfall would be when his clumsiness meets physical tasks and he nearly beheads alex. or himself. have you seen that one tim vine task designed specifically for him to make a pun? he's that. drives alex mad with constant questions about whether he can do xyz

i'm not sure how well mary would do, but i imagine she'd also be good at creative tasks. possibly not so good overall; you need confidence to pull off some tasks. she might be her own downfall for worrying over her plan and thus wasting all her time. would completely smash everyone on at least one task when nobody expects it, though

kitty would be very sweet, but, alas, not very good. she's not awful, she just never quite manages to do any better than consistently alright. great at team tasks or musical tasks, though

thomas would be an absolute idiot. just completely useless. can't do team tasks. continues to bring in, like, a plate or a shoe or something for every prize task. fails tasks in ways you didn't know were possible. you know john kearns? yeah

fanny would be incredible at any task involving maths, and not much use at everything else. owns a lot of weird stuff which works wonderfully for the prize task. possibly the type to be an otherwise deeply intelligent woman who gets onto taskmaster and subsequently proves that (academic) intelligence means nothing on taskmaster

i don't have anything to say about the captain except that alex would give him a ridiculous task that no one else has to do (he does not realise this) and he proceeds to try and fail to do it perfectly. and he will continue until he gets it right

pat would, obviously, be great at team tasks. i think he'd suck at creative tasks, but he'd probably be decently good at everything else, especially anything with practical skills

julian bullshits his way through every task. negotiates his way out of a corn maze. somehow, it works

[boxwinebaddie]

hallowhallowhallow~ my dear, sweet children of the scandy eye-man-candy korn! sorry for the trick, my treats ( ...>.>;; thiiis is why i try not to make promises about postin 'cause, before there was jersey, there was he(a)rsay aka me, the og unreliable narrator w/ great hair *flips* )

either way...it's not you; it's me. more specifically, its a fkn MRI that i have to schedule that i have been avoiding like the plague -- and all my responsibilities along with it. most regrettably of all, dearlings...

i missed the most chaotic bisexual day of the year! :( nOO! perolike call me randy marsh the way i RUINED stan's birthday AGAIN! ( also, aaa!~ can you believe ravenstan turned 22? not my eyes leaking :'} rs really is my fkn angel and my sweet son; i mean that. mi amorcitooo~

...i feel oddly motherly things for him in this chilis <333 ( also he really Hates his bday, but i promise him and jersey did something very cute for it xx ) BUT! more on that later, beloveds! because i am breaking my silence to make a Very Important Announcement:

I Put Jersey In COSPLAY. ;)))))

( ljsDsjldskds crYiiiiiN i'll fix the spelling l8r )

basically! every year for ravenstan's faux, goth heaux, celebprettyboy birthday ( aka HALLOWEEN <333 ) they throw gayven a MASSIVE star-studded, spooky-ooky pacifistic majorRAGER; its THE party!

( probably at whatever the fanciest hotel or hottest nightclub is in NYC at the moment -- or maybe i'll have it at the iconique sicktorian manwhorsion so that rs and jk can sneak off into stan's greenhouse and have a *british tolkien vc* cheeky lil snog ala the climax of rm ;) )

but every year, crimson dawn gayng does a themed group halloween costume ( last year, they went as greta gerwig barbie characters; jimmy went as alan, marj was weird barbie, keny was ken, naturally, and ofc, blonde ravenstan had to go as barbie; it was...Necessary. yw.

ALSO, very important to me that you know that kenny and ravenstan were specifically in the Legendary Hot Pink Cowboy Jumpsuits -- i just KNOW yersey was crying and throwing up; my man looked so GOOD...and bent over an Unncessary Amount Of Times; jail foreVA! )

BUT THIS YEAR!!!!! THIS YEAR!!!!! BECAUSE STAN IS A CRINGEY, BOYFAIL LOSER AND STANIME ENJOYER ( y'all are going to have to pry that hc from my Cold Dead Gay Hands! its is the Right answer! so either get with it or get steppin! Cry! Cope! LAME ASS DORK BOY RAVENSTANIME NATION, WE ARE SOOOOOOOOOO UP LOL! )

they are going as CHAINSAW MAN CHARACTERS. ( am...azing ;-; )

okay...so the lineup Might change? but as it stands atm, i am thinking jimmy is denji ( that...makes so much sense to me, i fear ), KENNY AS POWER IS THE RIGHT ANSWER SORRY, marjorine's hair was already a pink/red color, so i think makima is also just...right...yeah? but, uh...

aNYWAYS WHATS IMPORTANt???!!!! IS THAT RAVENSTAN IS AKI AND THEYRE FORCING JERSEYKYLE AT FUCKING NERF GUN POINT TO GO AS ANGEL!!!! ITS NECESSARY!!!! IT IS THAT SERIOUS.

like...oh my GOOOOOD. if you don't know what the hell i'm talking about, you might have to do some light googling BUT??? WHEN YOU DO PLEASE TELL ME YOU CAN SEE THE VISION. i love you so BAD, pierced and yatted up, edgy boy punk rock ravestaki with his hair up,

( shoutout to when teri ~hi teri~ told me that putting stan's hair up is a nina influenced event...too real; speaking of his hair? i think he is...still a little blonde, like maybe just the bottom half or MAYBE oOOH? ill do his lil eboy curtain bangs because...wow. delicious. thank you god. also i know his makeup and his guyliner was FIERCE, BITCH!

also...i am bringing the lipring chain back bc it is my FAVORITE edgy rs hot topic display acessory -- which means it's Also jersey's bc he has...what? TASTE! /for metal, taco bell cinnamon twists, **achem!** a passion for fashion...and also v pretty twinky nerdy emo boys. <3/ )

BUT UHHHHH...listen. if ANYONE ELSE ASKED, jk would tell you to kys and gut you. but...sigh. ravenstan is actually god's angel, HIS EYES ARE SO BEAUTIFUL AND BLUE AND LARGE, like??? when he reliquishes the matte black golden retriever puppy dog pout, bats his very long dark eyelashes at you, juts the lil stanopener ringed lip out at you and his eyes sparkle like gothboy rapunzel from tangled...it really is SOOOO over. i would fold. jerseykyle...did fold. sorry, king.

RAVENSTAN ALSO NEVER, EVER ASKS FOR ANYTHING?! like he is SO nice and selfless and kind. he never, ever, EVER asks for anything. jk actually like actively has to try and force him to ask for things; its his lil project because God Forbid that man do one less than saintly or self-indulgent thing...fyi, its that every year he asks for a Sword...

WHICH IS SO INSANE, LIKE ABSOLUTEly NOt--did they...get him a sword...i--maybe? oh my god. i knOW HE SCREEEAMED KSLSDkj )

but back to cosplay!jersey ( god, i love my life. when i tell you this was an epic win for pathetic loser gamer boys everywhere LIKE HAHA i got my FINE ASS preppy office siren boyfriend to wear The Outfit ) which...actually isnt that different to what he usually is wearing, tbh?

( also...getting ur messy eboy bf to wear any kind of suit and get all cleaned up, is actually a net win for normie preppy office siren boys everywhere so he Also Won; like it really is just worth it to see rs roll up his sleeve w the TAttoOOS WWWWHEEEW with the hair tie in his mouth while he puts his hair up...jk like E-Excuse Me *goes Feral* )

the halo was sooo cute btw, als the cheekbone guylighter? HOOOO. so...beautiful. i also think he got a little guyliner or shadow...just so i can have ravenstan homoerotically applying his makeup pre-party ;)) BUT THE IMPORTANTE PARTE IS THAT WE GET GORG SWOOPY FARRAH FAWCET JERSEY WITH HIS HAIR STRAIGHTENED WHICH rs also like E-Excuse Me *GOES FKN FERAL* in...SAAAAANE.

it was probably so long and luxurious, it was rs' finest work literally. i know it was steamy in that bathroom. unfortunately god bless him, rs is probably a little autistic ( y...eah...yeah ) and jk kept trying to make out with him, help, bc he's very cute when he takes his medication like a responsible king to combat the severe gaydhd and laserfocuses really hard on what he's doing ( ilysm transmaquilladorble rs xxx <333

he does all his makeup, btw, bc he's shaky asf and doesn't like to inconvenience the makeup artists; they just clean it up for him...he's rlly good, btw ) does the squint and stan lipbite and tilts his head and very gently holds your face...Wowza, truly. jkyle was like u are so beautiful to Me. rs like....what do you MeAN actually ethereal 6ft tall avant garde haute couture european vogue italia supermodel boy whose hair i am straightening in this lil bathroom in my big ass ratty teeshirt with my dumb eboy hair back in this headband sitting on the the bathroom counter trying not to hit my inhaler like a vape every five seconds because this does not feel real to me??? sklhdk In Luv! )

but yeah...super best cosplay stanime boyfriends DEVOURING! i also just want them to do the serran wrap kiss and have it go viral. also x2 if you are looking for them, so sorry, ik, they pregamed a little too hard and looked a little too fine and are probably making out and ruining the extensive labors of stan's beautiful star tattooed emo boy silver ringed tan hands one of which is in jkyle's very lucious straight hair and the other one is probably hiking up his dress shirt...woops!

Amen Gaymen.

[all-that-tmnt-jazz]

The Turtles as Things my Fiancée has Said

Alas, I did end up making one of these posts. Most of the things I have written down are chaotic/hectic so I don't think there will be many for Leo tbh.

Here we go.

[Censored Swearing]

Leo:

Is that a cop? No, it's just a Tesla.

What the flip, man?

I can't- I can't! I'm not doing that. I can't.

Raph:

I will literally punch a grandma in the teeth, I swear to god.

Betty White is strong as f*ck.

That man looks like the toothpick that came out of a crackhead's mouth.

I just shot the bartender.

Aaaaaand I don't really care. I really don't care.

Why the f*ck on the wall?

I got that sh*t too. Back to bed.

I can't tell if I dreamed that or not.

Though I concur, you're f*cked.

Donnie:

No Mikey, not f*cking coffee, you f*cking squirrel.

I'm probably gonna get, like, AIDS doing this... Why do it, you ask? It's for science.

I hear you in the trees, f*cker.

Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake-

How does Donnie know what's going on? That is an excellent question.

Wait where are my glasses? Oh, I'm too tired for this sh*t.

You don't know anything about anything.

A bit scary, but.

It's okay- eh, f*ck it. Whatever. He said to stop there but whatever.

You see, at this point in evolution, Mother Nature gave up.

I don't need a mental health day, I just need mental health.

Mikey:

You are a Dinkelburg. Shut up.

Wait, are you taking me for a haircut? Why?

Well, good evening.

What do you have? Can I have one?

Hey, look! Hi!

Does God pray to himself or to Jesus?

Ask the Little Einsteins, they're Albert's kids.

Should I stop saying that? Probably, but I won't.

*Looking at a car accident* I think you got something on your car.

Can you no?

Distract him? How am I supposed to do that, be famous?

Try to cook me, I dare you.

13 is... That much too many.

*Looking at a different car accident* You can't park there.